• 

i; 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


ANCIENT    HISTORY 


OF   THE 


EGYPTIANS,     CARTHAGINIANS,    ASSYRIANS,     BABYLO- 
NIANS,   MEDES    AND    PERSIANS,    GRECIANS, 
AND    MACEDONIANS. 


INCLUDING    A    HISTORY 


ARTS  AND  SCIENCES  OF  THE  ANCIENTS. 


BY   CHARLES  ROLLIN, 

nUNCIPAI.   OF    THE    UNIVERSITY   OF    PARIS,    FROFESSOE    OF    ELOQUENCE    IX   THE    ROTAL    COLLM* 
AND    MEMBER    OF    THE    ROYAL    ACADEMY    OF    INSCRIPTIONS   AND    BELLES   LETTRES. 


WITH    A 

LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR,  BY  JAMES  BELL, 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


CINCINNATI: 
APPLEGATE,  POUNSFORD  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS, 

No.  43   MAIN   STREET. 
1873. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


IN  presenting  to  the  American  Public,.  this  new  and  improved  edition  of 
ANCIENT  HISTORY,  we  deem  it  proper  to  point  out  a  few  of  the  many  instances 
which,  it  is  believed,  gives  it  a  superiority  over  other  editions  hitherto  published  in 
this  country  —  They  are, 

FIRST  —  The  restoration  of  the  prefatory  remarks  of  Rollin,  to  each  history,  aa 
originally  prepared  by  him  and  inserted  in  the  French  editions. 

SECOND  —  The  addition  of  "A  History  of  the  Arts  and  Sciences  of  the  Ancients,*' 
by  Rollin.  as  inserted  in  the  original,  and  all  subsequent  French  editions. 

The  following  extract  from  the  preface  of  the  Publishers  of  the  Glasgow  Edition 
of  1832,  Edited  by  James  Bell,  will  more  clearly  show  the  importance  of  the  addi- 
tions referred  to. 

"  The  publishers  venture  to  say  this  is  the  only  entire  and  unmutilated  edition  of 
Rollin's  History  in  English,  which  has  issued  from  the  press  for  more  than  eighty 
years:  indeed  they  are  not  aware  that  any  other  unmutilated  edition  was  ever  printed 
in  Britain,  except  the  first  English  edition  published  in  1738  by  J.  &  P.  Knapton, 
London.  In  Rollin's  original  work,  as  may  be  seen  by  consulting  the  French  editions, 
and  the  first  English  edition,  (1738,)  the  author  has  introduced  each  separate  division 
of  the  history  by  suitable  prefatory  remarks.  In  the  subsequent  editions,  however, 
these  different  introductions  have  been  thrown  together  in  the  most  confused  and  undis- 
tinguished manner,  for  the  purpose  of  forming  one  general  preface  to  the  whole  work  ; 
by  which  means  not  only  is  the  original  form  of  the  work  marred,  but  the  utility  of 
those  valuable  portions  of  it  are  in  a  great  measure  destroyed.  But  what  is  still 
worse,  this  part  of  the  work  has  been  exceedingly  mutilated  by  the  suppression  of 
many  paragraphs,  and  even  whole  pages;  by  which  means  the  sentiments  and 
remarks  of  the  learned  and  pious  author  upon  some  of  the  most  important  and  inter- 
esting subjects  have  been  hidden  from  and  lost  to  his  English  readers  ;  and  this  is  the 
more  to  be  regretted,  inasmuch  as  the  mutilator  has  manifested  any  thing  but  a  pre- 
ference for  the  doctrines  and  morality  of  the  Bible,  in  the  selection  of  those  parts  of 
the  work  which  he  has  chosen  to  suppress.  In  order  also  to  make  up  the  above 
mentioned  heterogeneous  preface,  the  whole  of  Chapter  III.  Book  X.  of  the  original 
work,  forming  part  of  the  history  of  the  Persians  and  Grecians,  and  amounting  to 
above  one  hundred  pages  of  the  first  English  edition,  has  been  torn  from  its  original 
place  in  the  work,  and  thrown  into  the  centre  of  the  foresaid  general  preface,  without 
the  smallest  apparent  regard  to  any  principles  of  order  or  connexion,  thus  completing 
such  a  flagrant  instance  of  literary  license  as  it  is  hoped  but  seldom  occurs.  In  the 
edition  now  offered  to  the  public,  the  various  introductions  to  the  several  divisions  of 


i 


215769 


iv  ADVERTISEMENT. 

the  history  have  been  printed  in  their  original  separate  form,  and  the  many  paragraphs 
formerly  suppressed,  as  also  Chapter  HI.  Book  X.  have  all  been  restored  to  their  pro- 
per places  in  the  work. 

"  It  is  a  fact  known  to  few  English  readers  of  Rollin,  that  the  original  edition  of  his 
"Ancient  History,"  and  all  the  subsequent  French  editions  down  to  that  edited  by  M 
Letronne  in  1823,  contain  as  an  integral  part  of  the  work,  "A  History  of  the  Arts  and 
Sciences  of  the  Ancients."  What  first  induced  the  English  publishers  to  mutilate  the 
work,  by  suppressing  so  large  and  valuable  a  part  of  it,  we  shall  not  determine ;  cer- 
tain, however,  it  is,  that  their  injudicious  example  has  been  followed  in  all  the  Eng- 
lish editions  published  since  1740:  so  that  even  few  Booksellers  are  now  aware  of 
the  fact,  that  in  all  the  English  editions  of  Rollin  published  during  the  last  eighty- 
five  years,  nearly  a  THIRD  PART  OF  THE  WORK  HAS  BEEN  SUPPRESSED,  and  that  a  part 
too  which  the  author  himself,  in  common  we  believe  with  every  enlightened  and  phi 
losophic  mind,  regarded  as  the  most  valuable  and  interesting  of  the  whole.  For,  as 
Dr.  Johnson  justly  remarks,  « There  is  no  part  of  history  so  generally  useful  as  that 
which  relates  the  progress  of  the  human  mind,  the  gradual  improvement  of  reason,  the 
successive  advances  of  science,  the  vicissitudes  of  learning  and  ignorance,  which  are 
the  light  and  darkness  of  thinking  beings,  the  extinction  and  resuscitation  of  arts,  and 
the  revolutions  of  the  intellectual  world.  If  accounts  of  battles  and  invasions  are  p& 
culiarly  the  business  of  princes,  surely  the  useful  or  elegant  are  not  to  be  neglected.' ' 


CONTENTS   OF   VOL.  T 


PUBLISHERS'  PKEHCF,  p.  T.— Memoir  of  Rollin,  xiii.— 
Profane,  xix. — Intro  uciion,  xxvi. — Introduction  tu  the  his- 
tory of  the  Assyrians.  Haliyloninns,  Medes,  and  Pi'rnnns. 
«x»il. — Introduction  to  the  himory  of  the  Persians  and  Gre- 
cians, xxviii. —  Introduction  to  the  history  of  Phili|>  king  of 
Macedonia,  and  Alexander  the  Great,  xxxvi. — Introduction 
to  the  history  of  Alexander's  successors,  x;xvii. 

BOOK  I. 

rsm  ANCIENT  BISTORT  OT  THB  EGYPTIANS. 

PAIIT  I.  The  description  of  Egypt:  with  an  account  of 
what  is  most  curious  and  remarkahle  in  thai  country,  p.  43. 

CHAP.  I.  Theuais,  43. 

CHAP.  II.  Middle  Egypt  or  Heptanotnis,  43. 

SECT.  I.  The  obelisks,  44. 

SECT.  II.  The  pyramid*,  44. 

SECT.  III.  The  lahyrinth,  45. 

SECT.  IV.  The  lake  of  Moris,  45. 

SECT.  V.  The  inundation*  of  the  Nile,  48.— The  sources 
flf  the  Vile,  ib. — The  cataracts  of  the  Nile,  ih. — Causes  of 
the  inundations  of  the  Nile,  47. — The  time  and  continuance 
of  the  inundations,  ib. — The  height  of  the  inundations,  ib. — 
The  canals  of  the  Nile  and  spiral  pumps,  ib. — The  fertility 
caused  hv  the  Nile,  ib. — Two  different  prospects  exhibited 
by  the  Nile,  48.— The  canal  formed  by  the  Nile,  by  which  a 
eommunir.nl ion  is  made  betwuen  the  two  seas,  ib. 

CHAP.  III.  Lower  Egypt,  48. 

PART.  II.  Of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Egvp- 
tians.  50. 

CHAP.  I.  Concerning  the  kings  and  government,  50. 

CHAP.  II.  Concerning  the  priests  and  religion  of  the  Egyp- 
tians, 5-J. 

SECT.  I.  The  worship  of  the  various  deities,  52. 

SECT.  II.  The  ceremonies  of  the  Egyptian  funerals,  54. 

CRAP.  III.  Of  the  Egyptian  soldiers  and  war,  55. 

CRAP.  IV.  Of  their  arts  and  sciences,  5I>. 

CHAP.  V.  Of  their  husbandmen,  shepherds,  and  artifi- 
cers, 5ti. 

CHAP.  VI.  Of  the  fertility  of  Egypt,  57. 

PART  III.  The  history  of  the  kings  of  Egypt,  53.— The 
kings  of  Egypt,  60. 

BOOKTI. 

THE  HISTORY  OP  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 

PART  T.  Of  the  character,  manners,  religion,  and  govern- 
ment of  the-  Carthaginians,  70. 

SECT.  I.  Carthage  formed  after  the  model  of  Tyre,  of 
which  that  city  wan  a  colony,  70. 

SECT.  II.  The  religion  of  the  Carthaginians,  71. 

SECT.  III.  Form  of  the  government  of  Carthage,  72.— The 
nfll-ten,  ih. — The  senate,  73. — The  people,  ib. — The  tribunal 
of  the  Hundred,  ib. — Defects  in  the  government  of  Car- 
thage, ib. 

SECT.  IV.  Trade  of  Carthage,  the  first  source  of  its  wealth 
and  power,  74. 

SECT.  V.  The  mines  of  Spain,  the  second  source  of  the 
riches  and  power  of  Carthage,  74. 

SECT.  VI.  War.  75. 

SECT.  VII.  Arts  and  sciences,  76. 

SECT.  VIII.  The  character,  manners,  and  qualities  of  the 
Carthaginians,  77. 

PART  II.  The  history  of  the  Carthaginians,  77. 

CRAP.  I.  The  foundation  of  Carthage,  and  its  aggrandize- 
•tent,  till  the  time  of  the  first  Panic  war,  77. — Conquest* 
of  the  Canh.a2inia.iis  in  Africa,  78.— In  Sardinia,  79.— In 
Spain,  ib.— ItrSicily,  80. 

CHAP.  II.  The  history  of  Carthage,  from  the  first  Punic 
war  to  its  destruction,  87. 

A»T.  I.  The  first  Punic  war,  89. — The  Libyan  war ;  or 
against  the  mercenaries,  95.— The  second  Punic  war,  98.— 
The  remote  and  more  immediate  causes  of  the  second  Pu- 
nic war,  98.— War  proclaimed,  100.— The  beginning  of  the 
•econd  Punic  war,  101.— The  passage  of  the  Rhone,  ib.— 
The  march  after  the  battle  of  the  Rhone,  ib.— Passage  over 
•be  Alps,  102.— Hannibal  enters  Italy,  103.— Battle  of  the 


cavalry  near  the  Ticlnus,  ib.— Battle  of  Trebia,  104.— Of 
Thrasympnus,  105. — Hannibal's  conduct  with  it-spect  u 
Fabius,  106.— The  state  of  affairs  in  Spain,  1(17.— The  bat- 
tle of  Cannae,  ib. — Hannibal  takes  up  his  winter  quarter* 
in  Capua,  Iil9-—  The  transactions  relating  to  Spain  and 
Sardina,  11(1. — The  ill  success  of  Hannibal.  The  siege* 
of  Capua  and  Rome,  ib.— The  defeat  and  death  of  the  two 
Scipioa  in  Spain.  111. — The  defeat  and  death  of  Asdrubal. 
ib.— Scipio  conquers  all  Spain.  Is  appointed  consul,  and 
sails  into  Africa.  Hannibal  is  recalled,  1 12.— Interview 
between  Hannibal  and  Scipio  in  Africa,  followed  by  a  bat- 
tle, 113.— A  peace  concluded  between  the  Carthaginian* 
and  the  Romans.  The  end  of  the  second  Punic  war,  114. 
— A  short  reflection  on  the  government  of  Carthage,  in  tho 
time  of  the  second  Punic  war,  ib. — The  interval  between 
the  second  and  third  Punic  war,  ib. 

SECT.  1.  Continuation  of  the  history  of  Hannibal,  115. — 
Hannibal  undertakes  and  completes  the  reformation  of  the 
courts  of  Justice,  and  the  treasury  of  Carthage,  ib.— Han- 
nibal's retreat  and  death,  116. — His  character  and  eulo- 
gium,  118. 

SECT.  II.  Dissensions  between  the  Carthaginians  and 
Masinissa,  king  of  Numidia,  121.— The  third'  Punic  war, 
ib. — A  digression  on  the  manners  and  character  of  the  se- 
cond Scipio  African  us,  128. — The  history  of  ihe  family  and 
posterity  of  Masinissa,  130. 


BOOK  III. 

THE  HISTORY  OP  THE  ASSYRIANS. 

CHAP.  I.  The  first  empire  of  the  Assyrians,  133. 

SECT.  I.  Duration  of  that  empire,  131.— The  walls  136.— 
The  quays  and  bridge,  136. — The  lake,  ditches,  and  canal* 
made  for  tho  draining  of  the  river,  ib.— The  palace*  and 
hanging  gardens,  ib. — The  temple  of  Beluc,  137. 

CHAP.  II.  The  second  Assyrian  empire,  both  of  Nineveh 
anJ  Babylon,  140. — Kings  of  Babylon,  ib. — Kings  of  Nine- 
veh, ib. 

CHAP.  ITT.  The  history  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Medes,  1441 

CHAP.  IV.  The  history  of  the  Lydiana,  148. 


BOOK  IV. 

THE  FOUNDATION  OF  THB  EMPIRE  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND 
MEDES,  BY  CYRUS  :  CONTAINING  THE  REIGNS  OF  CYRUg, 
OF  CAMBYSES,  AND  8MERD1S  THB  MAO1AM. 

CHAP.  I.  The  history  of  Cyrus,  152. 

ART.  I.  The  history  of  Cyrus,  from  hi*  infancy  to  the 
siege  of  Babylon,  152. 

SECT.  I.  Cyrus's  education,  152. 

SECT.  II.  Cyrus's  journey  to  his  grandfather  Astyage*, 
and  his  return  into  Persia,  153. 

SECT.  HI.  The  first  campaign  of  Cyrus,  who  goes  to  suc- 
cour his  uncle  Cyaxares  against  the  Babylonians,  154. 

SECT.  IV.  The  expedition  of  Cyaxares  and  Cyrus  against 
the  Babylonians.  The  first  battle,  158. 

SECT.  V.  The  battle  of  Thymbra,  between  Cyrus  and 
Cntsus,  162. 

SECT.  VI.  The  taking  of  Sardis  and  Croaus,  165. 

ART.  II.  The  history  of  the  besieging  and  taking  of 
Babylon  by  Cyrus,  166. 

SECT.  I.  Predictions  of  the  principal  circumstance*  re- 
lating to  the  siege  and  the  taking  ol  Babylon,  as  they  arsj 
set  down  in  different  places  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  166. — 
The  prediction  of  the  Jewish  captivity  at  Babylon,  and  of 
the  time  of  iis  duration,  ib.— The  causes  of  God's  wrath, 
against  Babylon,  167. — The  decree  pronounced  against 
Babylon.  Prediction  of  the  calamities  that  were  to  fall 
upon  her,  and  of  her  utter  destruction,  ib. — Cyrus  called 
to  destroy  Babylon,  and  to  deliver  the  J«-ws,  ib. — God 
gives  the  signal  to  ihe  commande.s,  and  to  the  troop*  to 
march  against  Babylon,  ib.— Particular  circumstance*  let 
down  relating  to  the  siege  and  the  taking  of  Babylon,  163 

SBCT.  11.  A  description  of  the  taking  of  Babylon,  169. 

SECT.  III.  The  completion  of  the  prophecy  which  for*> 
told  the  Utal  rv  j  ij4  dwr*ctics=  of  Babylon,  17U. 

A.2  T 


CONTENTS. 


SECT.  IV.  What  followed  upon  the  taking  of  Baby- 
lon. 171. 

ART.  III.  The  history  of  Cynis,  from  the  taking  of  Baby- 
lon to  thr  trne  of  his  death,  173. 

SECT.  I  Cyrus  takes  a  journey  into  Persia.  At  his  re- 
turn fnrn  thence  to  Babylon,  he  forms  a  plan  of  govern- 
ment fir  the  whole  empire.  Daniel's  credit  and  pow- 
er, 173. 

SECT.  II.  The  beginning  of  the  united  empire  of  the 
Persians  and  Medes."  The  ftmous  edict  of  Cyrus.  Dan- 
iel's prophecies,  174.— Reflections  upon  Daniel's  prophe- 
cies. 175. 

SECT.  III.  The  last  years  of  Cyrus  The  death  of  that 
prince,  176. — Character  and  eulogy  of  Cyrus,  177. 

SECT.  IV.  Wherein  Herodotus  and  Xenophon  differ  in 
their  accounts  of  Cyrus,  179. 

CHAP.  II.  The  history  of  Cambyses,  179. 

CHAP.  III.  The  history  of  Smerdis  the  Marian,  183. 

CHAP.  IV.  The  manners  and  customs  of  the  Assyrians, 
Babylonians.  Lydians,  Medes  and  Persians,  184. 

ART.  I   Of  their  government,  184. 

SECT.  I.  Their  monarchical  form  of  government.  The 
respect  they  paid  their  kings.  The  mnaner  of  educating 
their  children,  184. 

SECT.  II.  The  public  council,  wherein  the  affairs  of  state 
were  considered.  1S5. 

SECT.  III.  The  administration  of  justice,  186. 

SS.CT.  IV.  The  care  of  the  provinces,  187. 

SECT.  V  Administration  of  the  revenues,  189. 

ART.  II.  Of  their  war,  190. 

SBCT.  I.  Their  entrance  uoon  military  discipline,  190. 

SECT.  II.  Their  armour,  191. 

SECT.  III.  Chariots  armed  with  scythes,  191. 

SBCT.  IV.  Their  discipline  in  peace  as  well  as  war,  191. 

SECT.  V.  Their  order  of  battle,  192. 

SECT.  VI.  Their  manner  of  attacking  and  defending 
strong  places,  193. — Their  way  of  attacking  places,  ib. — 
Their  manner  of  defending  places,  ib. 

SBCT.  VII  The  condition  of  the  Persian  forces  after  Cy- 
rus's lime,  193. 

ART.  III.  Arts  and  sciences,  194. 

SECT.  I.  Architecture,  194. 

SECT.  II.  Music,  195. 

SECT.  III.  Physic,  195. 

SECT.  IV.  Astronomy,  196. 

SECT.  V.  Judicial  astrology,  196. 

ART.  IV.  Uelieion,  1S7.— Their  marriages,  and  the  man- 
ner of  burying  the  dead,  199. 

ART.  V.  The  cause  of  the  declension  of  the  Persian 
empire,  and  of  the  change  that  happened  in  their  man- 
ners, -200. 

SEI  T.  I.  Luxury  and  magnificence,  200. 

SECT.  II.  The  abject  submission  and  slavery  of  the  Per- 
sians, -201. 

SECT.  III.  The  wrong  education  of  their  princes  another 
cause  of  the  declension  of  the  Persian  empire,  202. 

SECT.  IV.  Their  breach  of  faith  and  want  of  sincerity, 
«08. 

BOOKV. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  ORIGIN  AND  FIRST   SETTLEMENT  OP 
TUB  SEVERAL  STATES  AND   GOVERNMENTS   OF  OREECB. 

ART  I.  A  geographical  description  of  ancient  Greece, 
805.— The  Grecian  isles,  ib. 

ART.  II.  Li  vision  of  the  Grecian  history  into  four  several 
•468,206. 

ART.  ill.  The  primitive  origin  of  the  Grecians,  206. 

ART.  IV.  The  different  states  into  which  Greece  was 
divided.  207. 

ART.  V.  Colonies  of  the  Greeks  sent  into  Asia  Minor, 
SOe.— The  Grecian  dialects,  209. 

ART.  VI.  The  republican  form  of  government  almost 
generally  established  throughout  Greece,  SOU. 

AKT.  VII.  The  Spartan  government.  Laws  established 
by  Lycurzus,  210. — Institution.  The  senate,  ib.— Institu- 
tion. The  division  of  the  lands,  and  the  prohibition  of 
cold  and  silver  money,  ib. — Institution.  The  public  meals, 
§11.— Other  ordinances,  ib.— Kedections  upon  the  govern- 
rr.ent  of  Sparta,  and  upon  the  laws  of  Lycurgus,  213. — 
Things  commendable  in  the  laws  ofLycurgus,  ib. — Things 
blameable  i  a  the  laws  ot  Lycurgus,  215. 

ART.  VIIi.  The  government  of  Athens.  The  laws  of 
bolon.  The  history  of  that  republic  from  the  lime  of  So- 
lon to  the  reign  of  Dai: us  the  t  irst.  216. 

ART  IX.  Illustrious  men  who  distinguished  themselves 
in  arts  and  science*,  2£2. — Of  the  seven  wise  men  of 
Greece,  225. 

BOOKVL 

THB  HISTORT  OF  THB  PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 

CHAP.  I.  The  history  of  Darius  intermixed  with  that  of 
lae  Greeks,  228. 
SBCT.  L  Darins's  marriages    The  imposition  of  si- 


butes.  The  insolence  and  punishment  of  Intaplierne* 
The  death  of  Oreleg.  The  story  of  Democedes  a  physi- 
cian. The  Jews  permitted  lo  carry  on  the  building  (rf 
their  temple.  The  generosity  ot  Syloson  rewarded,  228. 

SECT.  II.  Revolt  and  reduction  of  Babylon,  231. 

SECT.  III.  Darius  prepares  for  an  expedition  against 
the  Scythians.  A  digression  upon  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  that  nation,  232. — A  digression  concerning  ths 
Scvihians.  ib. 

SECT.  IV.  Darius's  expedition  against  the  Scythian*, 
235. 

SECT.  V.  Darius's  conquest  of  India,  2.17. 

SECT.  VI.  The  revolt  of  the  lonians,  -J38. 

SECT.  Vll.  The  expedition  of  Darius's  army  against 
Greece,  24''.— The  state  of  Athens.  The  characters  of 
Miltiadps,  Themistocles,  and  Aristides,  241. — Darius  send* 
heralds  into  Greece,  in  ordpr  to  sound  the  people,  and  to 
require  them  to  submit,  242. — The  Persians  defeated,  at 
Marathon  by  Militaries.  The  melancholy  end  of  that 
general,  243. 

SECT.  VIII  Darius  resolves  to  make  war  in  person 
against  Egypt  and  against  Greece :  is  prevented  by  death. 
Dispute  between  two  of  his  sons,  concerning  the  succes- 
sion to  the  crown.  Xerxes  is  chosen  kins,  246. 

CHAP.  II.  The  history  of  Xerxes,  connected  with  that  of 
the  Greeks,  247. 

SECT.  I.  Xerxes,  after  having  reduced  Egypt,  makes 
preparations  for  carrying  the  war  into  Greece.  He  holds 
a  council.  The  prudent  speech  of  Artabanes.  War  is  re. 
solved  upon.  247. 

SECT.  II.  Xerxes  begins  his  march,  and  passes  from  AsM 
into  Europe,  by  erasing  the  straits  of  the  Hellespont  upon 
a  bridge  of  boats,  249. 

SECT.  III.  Enumeration  of  Xerxes's  forces.  Domanial 
delivers  his  sentiments  freely  upon  that  prince's  enter- 
prise, 252. 

SECT.  IV.  the  Lacedaemonians  and  Athenians  send  to 
their  allies  to  require  succours  from  them,  but  to  no  pur« 
pose.  The  command  of  the  fleet  given  to  the  Lacedznx*- 
nia us.  233. 

SECT.  V.  The  battle  of  Thermopylss.  The  death  of  L*. 
onidas,  254. 

SECT.  VI.  Naval  battle  near  Artemisium,  256. 

SBCT.  VII.  The  Athenians  abandon  their  city,  which  ts 
taken  and  burnt  by  Xerxes,  257. 

SE<-T.  VIII.  The  batile  of  Salamis.  Precipitate  return 
of  Xerxes  into  Asia.  Panegyric  of  Themistoclesand  Aris- 
tides.  The  defeat  of  the  Carthaginians  in  Sicily,  253. 

SECT.  IX.  The  battle  of  Platsea,  261. 

SECT.  X.  The  battle  near  Mycale.  The  defeat  :f  'Jk» 
Persians,  265. 

SECT.  XI.  The  barbarous  and  inhuman  revenge  Df  Arae#- 
tris,  the  wife  of  Xi  rxes,  265. 

SECT.  XII.  The  Athenians  rebuild  the  walls  of  their 
city,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  the  Laceda-mo- 
nians,  266, 

SECT.  XIII.  The  black  design  of  Themistocles  rejected 
unanimously  by  the  people  of  Athens.  Arinides'a  conde- 
scension to  the  people,  -JG?. 

SECT.  XIV.  The  Lacedaemonians  lose  the  chief  com- 
niand  through  the  pride  and  arrogance  of  Pausanias,  268. 

SECT.  XV.  Pausanias1*  secret  conspiracy  with  the  Per- 
sians. His  death,  269. 

SECT. XVI.  Themistocles,  being  prosecuted  by  the  Athe- 
nians and  Lacedemonians,  as  an  accomplice  in  Pausa- 
nias's  cunspi  acy,  tlies  for  shelter  to  king  Ailu.ctos,  -69. 

SECT.  XVII.  Aristides's  disinterested  administration  of 
the  public  treasure.  His  death  and  eulogium,  2*0. 

SECT.  X  VIII.  Death  of  Xerxes,  who  is  kill,  d  by  Anab*- 
nus.  His  character,  272. 


BOOK  VII. 
CHAP.  I. 

SECT.  I.  Anaxerxes  ruins  the  faction  of  Artabanus,  and 
that  of  Hystaspes  his  elder  brother,  273. 

SECT.  11.  'Ihemisioclea  lakes  refuge  with  Arta.xerxes, 
273. 

SECT.  III.  Cimon  begins  lo  make  a  figure  at  AlhtD*. 
His  first  achievements.  A  double  victory  gained  over  th« 
Persians,  near  ihe  river  Eurymeilun.  Death  of  Themisio- 
cles,  275. 

SECT.  IV.  The  revolt  of  the  Egyptians  against  Persia, 
supported  by  the  Athenians,  •J~- 

SECT.  V.  Inarus  is  delivered  up  to  the  king's  mother, 
contrary  lo  ihe  articles  of  the  irealy.  The  affliction  of 
Megabyzus,  who  revolts,  279. 

Stcr".  VI.  Anaxerxes  sends  Ezra,  and  afterwards  N«h» 
miah,  lo  Jerusalem,  279. 

SECT.  Vll.  Character  of  Pericles.  The  method*  em- 
ployed by  him  lo  gain  the  affection  of  ihe  people,  280. 

SECT.  VIII.  An  earthquake  in  Sparta.  Insurrection  of 
the  Helots.  Steds  of  division  between  the  Athenians  an4 
Spartans.  Cloion  is  senl  into  banishment,  to.'. 

SECT.  IX.  Cimon  is  recalled.    He  establishes  peace  b« 


CONTENTS. 


rii 


twwn  the  two  cities.  He  gains  several  victories,  which 
leduce  Arta»erxes  lo  the  necessity  of  concluding  a  treaty 
hishly  honourable  to  the  Greeks.  Cimon's  dealh,  2&f. 

SECT.  X.  Thucydides  is  oppoaed  to  Pericles.  The  envy 
raised  asainst  the  latter.  He  clears  himself,  and  succeeds 
in  procurins  the  banishment  of  Thucydides,  2S4. 

SECT.  XI.  Pericles  changes  his  conduct  towards  the  peo- 
ple. His  nrodisious  authority.  His  disinterestedness,  285. 

SBCT.  XII  Jealousy  and  contests  arise  between  the  Athe- 
nians and  Lacedaemonians.  A  treaty  of  peace  is  concluded 
for  thirty  years,  287. 

SECT.  illl.  New  subjects  of  contention  between  the  two 
nations,  occasioned  by  the  Athenians  laying  siege  to  Sa- 
tnoa:  by  their  succouring  the  people  of  Corcyra,  and  be- 
•iei'ine  Potidaea;  an  open  rupture,  287. 

SECT.  XIV.  Troubles  excited  against  Pericles.  He  de- 
termines the  Athenians  to  engage  in  war  against  the  La- 
cedemonians, 290. 

CHAP.  II. 

Transactions  of  the  Greeks  in  Sicily  and  Italy,  291. 

SECT.  I.  The  Carthaginians  are  defeated  in  Sicily.  The- 
ron,  tyrant  of  Aerigentum.  Reign  of  Gel.in  in  Syracuse, 
and  his  two  brothers.  Liberty  is  restored,  291. 

SECT.  II.  Of  some  famous  persons  and  citizens  in  Grsscia 
Magna ,  Pythagoras,  Charondas,  Zaleucus,  Milo  the  athle- 
te: Crolona,  Sybaris,  aud  Thurium,  295. 

CHAP.  III. 

The  war  of  Peloponnesus,  298. 

SECT.  I.  The  siege  of  Plaia-a  by  the  Thebans.  Alternate 
ravages  of  Attica  and  Peloponnesus.  Honours  paid  to  the 
Athenians  who  fell  in  the  first  campaign,  298. 

SECT.  II.  The  plague  makes  dreadful  havoc  in  Attica. 
Pericles  is  divested  of  the  command.  The  Lacedemo- 
nians have  recourse  to  the  Persians  for  aid.  Polidxa  is 
taken  by  the  Athenians.  Pericles  is  restored  to  his  em- 
ployment. His  death,  and  that  of  Anaxagoras,  300. 

SECT.  HI.  The  Lacedaemonians  besiege  Plaiaea.  Mity- 
lene  is  taken  by  the  Athenians.  Plat  sea.  surrenders.  The 
plague  breaks  out  again  in  Athens,  303. 

SBCT.  IV.  The  Athenians  possess  themselves  of  Pylus, 
and  are  afterwards  besieged  in  it.  The  Spartans  are  shut 
up  in  the  little  island  ofSphacleria.  Cleun  make*  him- 
•elf  maiir  of  it.  Artaxerxes  dies,  303. 


BOOK  VTIL 
CRAP.  L 

SBCT.  I.  The  very  short  reigns  of  Xerxes  II.  and  Sogdi- 
»nu«.  They  are  succeeded  by  Darius  Nolhus.  He  puts  a 
•top  to  the  insurrection  of  Egypt  and  that  of  Media.  He 
bestows  on  Cyrus,  his  youngest  son,  the  supreme  command 
of  all  Asia  Minor,  310. 

SECT.  II.  The  Athenians  make  themselves  masters  of 
the  island  of  Cythera.  Expeditions  of  Brasidas  into  Thrace. 
He  takes  Amphipolis.  Thucydides  the  historian  is  banish- 
ed. A  bailie  is  fought  near  JDelium,  where  the  Athenians 
are  defeated,  312. 

SECT.  IIL  A  twelvemonth's  truce  is  agreed  upon  be- 
tween the  two  states.  Dealh  of  Cleon  and  Brapidas.  A 
treaty  of  peace  for  fifty  years  concluded  between  the  Athe- 
nians and  Lacedaemonians,  313. 

SECT.  IV.  Alcibiades  begins  to  appear  in  public.  His 
character.  He  opposes  Nicias  in  every  thing,  and  breaks 
the  treaty  he  had  concluded.  The  banishment  of  Hyper- 
bolus  puts  an  end  to  the  Ostracism,  314. 

SECT.  V.  Alcibiades  engages  the  Athenians  in  the  war 
of  Sicily,  316. 

SECT.  VI.  Account  of  the  several  people  who  inhabited 
Sicily,  317. 

SECT.  VII.  The  people  of  Egesta  implore  aid  of  the  Athe- 
nians. Nicias  opposes,  but  to  no  purpose,  the  war  of  Sici- 
ly. Alcibiade*  '-aeries  that  point.  They  both  are  appoint- 
ed generals  with  Lamachus,  318. 

SECT.  V  III.  The  Athenians  prepare  to  set  sail.  Sinister 
omens.  The  sullies  of  Mercury  are  mutilated.  Alcibi- 
ades is  accused,  and  insists  upon  his  being  tried,  but  his 
request  is  not  granted.  Triumphant  departure  of  the 
fleet,  3-51. 

SECT.  IX.  Syracuse  is  alarmed.  The  Athenian  fleet  ar- 
rives in  Sicily,  321. 

SBCT.  X.  Alcibiades  is  recalled.  He  flies,  and  is  sen- 
tenced to  die  for  contumacy.  He  retires  to  Sparta.  Flexi- 
bility of  his  genius  and  deposition,  3-1. 

SBCT.  XI.  Description  of  Syracuse,  322. 

SECT.  Xil.  Nicias,  after  some  engagements,  besieges  Sy- 
racuse. Lamachus  is  killed  in  a  battle.  The  city  is  re- 
duced to  the  greatest  extremities,  3£3. 

SECT.  Xlll.  The  Syracusans  resolve  to  capitulate,  but 
Gylippus's  arrival  changes  the  face  of  affaiis.  Nicias  is 
forced  by  his  colleagues  lo  engage  in  a  sea  fight,  and  is 
overcome.  His  land  forces  are  also  defeated,  326. 


SBCT.  XIV.  The  consternatbn  with  which  the  Athenl 
ans  are  seized.  They  again  hazard  a  sea  fi?lit,  and  are 
defeafd.  They  resolve  to  retire  by  '.and.  B^inu'  close 
pursued  by  the  Syracusans,  they  surrender.  Niciss  and 
Demosthenes  are  sentenced  to  die,  and  executed.  The 
effect  which  the  news  of  the  defeat  of  the  ajmy  produces 
in  Athens,  330. 

CHAP.  II. 

SECT.  I.  Consequences  of  the  defeat  of  the  Athenians  in 
Sicily.  Revolt  of  the  allies.  Alcibiades  grows  into  great 
power  with  Tissaphernes,  333. 

SECT.  II.  The  return  of  Alcibiades  to  Athens  negotiated, 
upon  condition  of  establishing  the  aristor.ratical,  in  the 
room  of  the  democraiical  government.  Tissaphernes  con- 
cludes a  new  treaty  with  the  Lacedemonians,  335. 

SECT.  III.  The  whole  authority  of  the  Athenian  govern- 
ment having  been  vested  in  four  hundred  persons,  they 
make  a  tyrannical  abuse  of  their  power  and  are  deposed. 
Alcibiades  is  recalled.  After  various  accidents,  and  seve- 
ral considerable  victories,  he  returns  in  triumph  to  Athens, 
and  is  appointed  generalissimo.  He  causes  the  great  mys- 
teries lo  be  celebrated,  and  departs  with  thu  fleet,  336. 

SECT.  IV.  The  Lacedaemonians  appoint  Lysander  admi- 
ral. He  acquires  great  influence  with  the  younier  Cyrus, 
who  commanded  in  Asia.  He  beats  the  Athenian  fleet 
near  Ephesue  in  the  absence  of  Alcibiades,  who  is  depriv- 
ed of  the  command.  Ten  generals  are  chosen  in  his  stead. 
Callicralidas  succeeds  Lysander,  339. 

SECT.  V.  Callicralidas  is  defeated  by  the  Athenians  near 
the  Arginusae.  The  Athenians  pass  sentence  of  death  up- 
on several  of  their  generals  for  not  having  brought  off  the 
bodies  of  those  who  had  been  elain  in  bailie.  Socrates 
alone  has  the  courage  lo  oppose  so  unjust  a  sentence,  341. 

SECT.  VI.  Lysander  commands  the  Lacedirmonian  fleet. 
Cyrus  is  recalled  to  court  by  his  father.  Lysander  gains  a 
celebrated  victory  over  the  Athenians  at  ^Egospotamos, 

SECT.  VII.  Alhens  besieged  by  Lysander,  capitulates 
and  surrenders.  Lysander  changes  the  form  of  govern- 
ment, and  establishes  thirty  commanders  in  it.  He  sends 
Gylippus  before  him  to  Sparta  with  all  the  gold  and  silver 
taken  from  the  enemy.  Decree  of  Sparta  upon  the  use  to 
be  made  of  it.  The  Peloponnesian  war  ends  in  this  man- 
ner. Dealh  of  Darius  Nolhus,  345. 


BOOK  IX. 
CHAP.  L 

SBCT.  I.  Coronation  of  Anaxerxe*  Mnemon.  Cyrus  at 
tempts  to  assassinate  his  brother,  and  is  sent  into  Asia  Mi- 
nor. Cruel  revenge  of  Slalira,  wife  of  Anaxerxes,  upon 
the  authors  and  accomplices  in  the  murder  of  her  brother 
Death  of  Alcibfades.  His  character,  347. 

SECT.  II.  The  Thirty  exercise  the  most  horrid  cruellies 
at  Athens.  They  put  Theramenes,  one  of  iheir  colleagues, 
lo  death.  Socrates  lakes  his  defence  upon  himself.  Thra- 
sybulus  attacks  the  tyrants,  makes  himself  master  of 
Alhens,  and  restores  its  liberty,  349. 

SECT.  III.  Lysander  abuses  his  power  in  an  extraordina- 
ry manner.  He  is  recalled  to  Sparta  upon  the  complaint 
of  Pharnabazus,  351. 

CHAP.  II. 

The  younger  Cyrus,  wilh  the  aid  of  the  Grecian  troops, 
endeavours  lo  dethrone  his  brother  Artaxerxes.  He  is  kill- 
ed in  bailie.  Famous  retreat  of  the  Ten  Thousand,  352. 

SECT.  I.  Cyrus  raises  troops  secretly  against  his  brother 
Anaxerxes.  Thirteen  thousand  Greeks  join  him.  Resets 
out  from  Sard  is,  and  arrives  at  Babylonia,  after  a  march  of 
more  than  six  months,  321. 

SECT.  II.  The  battle  of  Cunaxa:  the  Greeks  are  victo- 
rious on  iheir  side :  Artaxerxes  on  his :  Cyrus  is  killed,  334. 

SECT.  111.  Euology  of  Cyrus,  356.  ' 

SECT.  IV.  The  king  wishes  to  compel  the  Greeks  to  de- 
liver up  iheir  arms.  They  resolve  lo  die  rather  than  sur- 
render themselves.  A  treaty  is  made  will)  them.  Tiasa- 
pherues  lakes  upon  him  lo  coiiduci  them  back  lo  their  own 
country.  He  treacherously  seizes  Clearchus  and  four  oth- 
er generals,  who  are  all  put  lo  dealh,  357. 

SECT.  V.  Retreat  of  ihe  ten  thousand  Greeks  from  the 
province  of  Babylon  as  far  as  Trebizoud,  3o9. 

SECT.  VI.  The  Greeks,  after  having  undergon*  exces- 
sive faligues,  and  surmounted  many  dangers,  arrive  upon 
the  sea-coasi.  opposite  to  Byzantium.  They  pass  the  strait, 
and  engage  in  the  service  of  Seuihus,  prince  of  Thrace. 
Xenophou  afterwards  repasses  ihe  sea  wiih  his  iroops,  ad- 
vances to  Per^amus,  and  joins  Thimbron,  general  of  the 
Lacedemonians,  who  was  marching  against  Tisaapherne* 
and  I'hamabuzus,  361. 

SECT.  VII.  Consequence*  of  Cyrus's  death  in  the  court 
of  Anaxerxes..  Cruelty  and  jealousy  of  Parrmii.  Sutin 
poisoned,  263. 


CONTENTS. 


CH»°.  III. 

SECT.  I.  The  Grecian  cities  of  Ionia  implore  aid  of  the 
Lacediemnnians  against  Afxxerxes.  Rare  prudence  in  a 
lady  continued  in  her  husband's  government  after  his 
death.  Agesilaus  elected  king  of  Sparta.  His  character, 
364. 

SECT.  II.  Asesilaus  sets  out  for  Asia.  Lysander  foils  out 
with  hi  in  and  returns  to  Sparta.  Hi*  ambitious  designs  to 
alter  the  succession  to  the  throne,  366. 

SEL'T.  III.  Expedition  of  Agesilaus  in  Asia.  Disgrace 
and  death  of  Tisssphernes.  Sparta  gives  Agesilaus  the 
command  of  its  armies  by  sea  and  land.  He  deputes  Pi- 
Bander  to  command  the  fleet.  Interview  of  Agesilaus  and 
Pharnabazus,  368. 

SBCT.  IV.  Leasue  against  the  I<aceda>monians.  Agesila- 
us  recalled  by  the  Eptiori  to  defend  his  country,  obeys  di- 
rectly. Lysander's  death.  Victory  of  the  Laceda-monians 
near  Neirnea.  Their  fleet  is  beaten  by  Conon  off  Cnidus. 
Battle  gained  by  the  Lacedemonians  at  Coronea,  370. 

SECT.  V.  Agesilaus  returns  victorious  to  Sparta.  He  al- 
ways retains  his  simplicity  and  ancient  manners.  Conon 
rebuilds  the  walls  of  Athens.  A  peace,  disgraceful  to 
the  Greeks,  concluded  by  Antalcidas  the  Lacedemonian, 
373. 

SBCT.  VI.  War  of  Artaxerxes  against  Evazoras  king  of 
Salamis.  Eulogy  and  character  of  that  prince.  Tiriba- 
xus  falsely  accused.  His  accuser  punished,  375. 

SBCT.  VII.  The  expedition  of  Artaxerxes  against  the 
Caduaians.  History  of  Datames  the  Carian,  378. 


CHAP.  IV. 

History  of  Socrates  abridged,  381. 

SHOT.  I.  Birth  of  Socrates.  He  applies  at  first  to  sculp- 
ture; then  to  the  study  of  the  sciences.  His  wonderful 
progress  in  them.  His  taste  for  moral  philosophy.  His 
manner  of  living,  and  sufferings  from  the  ill  humour  of  his 
wife,  381. 

SBCT.  II.  Of  the  daemon,  or  familiar  spirit,  of  Socrates, 
383. 

SECT.  III.  Socrates  declared  the  wisest  of  mankind  by 
the  oracle  of  Delphi,  383. 

SECT.  IV.  Socrates  devotes  himself  entirely  to  the  in- 
•truction  of  the  youth  of  Athens.  Affection  of  his  disci- 
ples for  him.  The  admirable  principles  with  which  he  in- 
spires them,  both  with  respect  to  government  and  religion, 
384. 

StfCT.  V.  Socrates  applies  himself  to  discredit  the  so- 
phists in  the  opinion  of  the  young  Athenians.  What  is 
to  be  understood  of  the  ironical  character  ascribed  to  him, 
886. 

SECT.  VI.  Socrates  is  accused  of  holding  bad  opinions  in 
regard  to  the  gods,  and  of  corrupting  the  Athenian  youth. 
He  defends  himself  without  an  or  fear.  He  is  condemned 
to  die,  3S7. 

SECT.  VII.  Socrates  refuses  to  escape  out  of  prison.    He 

E  asses  the  last  day  of  his  life  in  discoursing  with   his 
•Jena's  upon  the  immortality  of  the  soul.    He  drinks  the 
poison.    Punishment  of  his  accusers.    Honours  paid  to  his 
memory,  351. 

SECT.  VIII.  Reflections  upon  the  sentence  passed  on 
Socrates  by  the  Athenians,  and  upon  Socrates  himself, 

BOOK  I. 

The  ancient  history  of  the  Fenians  and  Grecians,  306. 
--Manners  and  customs  of  the  Greeks,  ib. 

CHAP.  I. 
Of  political  government,  396. 

ARTICLE  I. 

Of  the  government  of  Sparta,  397. 

SBCT.  1.  Abridged  idea  of  the  Spartan  government.  En- 
tire submission  to  the  laws  was  in  a  manner  the  soul  of  it, 
8U7. 

SECT.  II.  Love  of  poverty  instituted  at  Sparta,  398. 

SBCT.  111.  Laws  established  by  Minos  in  Crete,  the  mod- 
al of  those  of  Spana,  399. 

ARTICLE  II. 

Of  the  government  of  Athens,  401. 

SBCT.  f.  Foundation  of  the  government  of  Athens  ac- 
eordiug  to  Solon's  plan,  401. 

SBCT.  II.  Of  the  inhabitant*  of  Athens,  402.— Of  the  citi- 
Bens,  ib. — Of  the  strangers,  b. — Of  the  servants,  403. 

SECT.  III.  Of  the  council  or  senate  of  five  Hundred,  403. 

SECT.  IV.  Of  the  Areopagus,  404. 

SBCT   V.  Of  the  magistrates,  4O1. 

SECT   VI.  Of  the  assemblies  of  the  people,  405. 

SBCT.  Vll.  Of  trials,  403. 


SECT.  VIM.  Of  the  Amphictyons,  406. 

SECT.  IX.  Of  the  revenues  of  Athens,  <06. 

SECT. X.  Of  the  education  of  the  youth,  407. — Dancing. 
Music,  ib.—  Of  the  other  exercises  of  the  body,  408.— Of  Lh« 
exercises  of  the  mind,  ib. 

CHAP.  IL 


SECT.  I.  The  nations  of  Greece  in  all  times  rerr  warlih*, 
especially  the  Lacedaemonians  and  Athenians,  408. 

SECT.  II.  Origin  and  use  of  the  valour  and  military  vir- 
tue by  which  the  Lacedemonians  and  Athenians  alwayi 
distinguished  themselves,  409. 

SECT.  Ill  Different  kind  of  troops  of  which  the  armic« 
of  the  Lacedemonians  and  Athenians  were  composed. 
410. 

SECT.  IV.  Of  maritime  affairs,  fleets,  and  naval  forces, 
411. 

SECT.  V.  Peculiar  character  of  the  Athenians,  412. 

SECT.  VI.  Common  character  of  the  Lacedemonian* 
and  Athenians,  414. 

CHAP.  HI. 

Of  reliiion,  415.— Of  the  feasts,  ib.— The  Panathenea, 
416. — Feasts  of  Bacchus,  ib. — The  feasts  of  Eleusis,  417. — 
Of  auguries,  oracles,  fcc.  418. — Of  the  games,  and  combats, 
422.— Athletes,  or  combatants,  424. — Of  wrestling,  ib.— Of 
boxing,  or  the  cestus,  425. — Of  the  Pancratium,  ib. — Of  the 
discus,  or  quoit,  ib. — Of  the  Pentathlum,  426 — Races.  Of 
the  foot  race,  426.— Of  the  horse-race,  427.— Of  the  chariot- 
races,  ib.— Of  the  honours  and  rewards  granted  to  the  vic- 
tors, 428.— Different  taste  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  in  re- 
gard to  public  shows,  429. — Of  the  prizes  of  wit,  and  the 
shows  and  representations  of  the  theatre,  430. — Extraordi- 
nary fondness  of  the  Athenians  for  the  entertainments  of 
the  stage.  Emulation  of  the  poets  in  disputing  the  prizes 
in  u.ose  representations.  A  short  idea  of  dramatic  poeiry, 
ib. — The  origin  and  progress  of  tragedy.  Poets  who  excell- 
ed in  it  at  Athens:  jEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides. 
431.— Of  the  old,  middle,  and  new  comedy,  434.— The  the- 
atre  of  inn  ancients  described,  437.— Passion  for  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  theatre  one  of  the  principal  causes  of  the 
decline,  degeneracy,  and  corruption,  of  the  Athenian  stale, 
433. 

BOOK  XI. 

The  history  of  Dionysius  the  Elder  and  YoaEger,  tyranu 
of  Syracuse,  439. 

CHAP.  I. 

SECT.  I.  Means  made  use  of  by  Dionysius  the  Elder,  to 
possess  himself  of  the  tyranny,  440. 

SEC  T.  II.  Commotions  in  Sicily  and  at  Syracuse  against 
Dionysius.  He  finds  means  to  dispel  tnetn.  To  prevent 
revolts  he  proposes  to  attack  the  Carthaginians.  His  woo 
derful  application  and  success  in  making  preparations  fat 
the  war.  Plato  comes  to  Syracuse.  His  intimacy  and 
friendship  with  Dion,  442. 

SECT.  HI.  Dionysius  declares  war  against  the  Carthagi- 
nians. Various  success  of  it.  Syracuse  reduced  to  ex- 
tremities and  soon  after  delivered.  New  commotion* 
against  Dionysius.  Defeat  of  Imilco,  and  afterwards  of 
Mago.  Unhappy  fate  of  the  city  of  Khegium,  445. 

SECT.  IV.  Violent  passion  of  Dionysius  for  poesy.  Ke 
flections  upon  that  taste  of  the  tyrant.  Generous  freedom 
of  Philoxeuua.  Death  of  Dionysiu*.  His  bad  qualities, 
443. 

CHAP.  II. 

SBCT.  I.  Dionysius  the  Younger  suc:eeds  his  father. 
Dion  engages  him  to  invite  Plato  to  his  ccun.  Surprising 
alteration  occasioned  by  his  presence.  Conspiracy  of  the 
courtiers  to  prevent  the  effects  of  it,  •1r'2. 

SECT.  II.  Banishment  of  Dion.  Plato  quits  the  court 
soon  after  and  returns  into  Greece.  Dion  admired  there 
by  all  the  learned.  Plato  returns  to  Syracuse  454. 

SECT.  HI.  Dion  set*  out  to  deliver  Syracuse.  Sudden 
and  fortunate  success  of  his  enterprise.  Horrid  ingratitude 
of  the  Syracusans.  Unparalleled  goodness  of  Dion  to  them 
and  his  most  cruel  enemies.  His  death,  456. 

SBCT.  IV.  Character  of  Dion,  463. 

SECT.  V.  Dionysius  the  Younger  reascends  the  throne 
Syracuse  implores  aid  of  the  Corinthians,  who  send 
Timoleon.  That  general  enters  Syracuse,  notwithsiand 
ing  all  the  endeavours  of  Icelas  to  prevent  him.  Diony 
sius  surrenders  himself  to  him,  and  retires  to  Corinth 
463. 

SECT.  VI.  Timoleon,  after  several  victories,  restores  lib 
eny  in  Syracuse,  where  he  institutes  wise  laws  He  re 
signs  his  authority,  and  passes  the  rest  of  his  life  in  retire 
incut.  His  drain.  Honours  paid  to  his  memory,  4iie. 


CON  TENTS. 


BOOK  XI L 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THB  PERSIANS  AHD  GRECIANS. 
CHAP.  I. 

SBCT.  I  State  of  Greece  from  the  time  of  the  trmtjr  of 
Anlalcidas.  The  IjiceilaeMiians  declare  war  against  ihe 
eity  'i  Olynihim.  They  seiz<>  by  fraud  ami  violence  upon 
Ibe'ciiadel  of  Theb  9.  Olynthus  surrenders,  468. 

SF  T.  II.  Spara's  prosperity.  Character  of  two  illus- 
Hous  Thebans,  Epaminondas  and  Pelopidas.  The  latter 
foms  the  design  of  restoring  the  liberty  of  his  country. 
Conspiracy  against  the  tyrants  wisely  conducted  and  hap- 
pito  executed.  The  citadel  is  retaken,  •{.(>. 

SF.CT.  III.  Sph'xlrias,  the  Lacedaemonian,  forms  a  design 
against  the  I'ireens  without  success.  The  Athenians  de- 
elarf  f  ir  the  Thebans.  Skirmishes  between  the  latter  and 
the  Ltcptiaein  ini;«ns,  47'i. 

SECT.  IV.  New  troubles  in  Greece.  The  Lacedaemo- 
Diana  Jeclare  war  against  Tliebes.  They  are  defeated  and 
put  lo  flight  in  the  battle  of  Leuctra.  Epaminondas  rava- 
ges Lacfnin,  and  marches  to  the  gates  of  Sparta,  474. 

SECT  V.  The  two  Theban  eenerals,  at  their  return,  are 
accused,  t.iiil  acquitted.  Sparta  implores  aid  of  the  Athe- 
nians TIP  Greeks  send  ambassadors  to  Artaxerxe*.  In- 
fluence nl  i'elopidas  at  ihe  court  of  Persia,  477. 

SECT.  VI.  Pelopidas  marches  against  Alexander  tyrant 
of  Pherae,  and  reiluces  him  to  reason.  He  goes  to  Macedo- 
nia, t.i  nppeaje  the  troubles  of  that  court,  and  brings  Phi- 
lip  to  Thebes  as  a  hostage.  He  returns  into  Thessaly.  is 
teized  by  treachery,  and  made  a  prisoner.  Epaminondas 
deliver,!  him.  Pelopida*  gains  a  victory  against  the  ty- 
rant and  is  killed  in  the  battle.  Extraordinary  honours 
paid  to  his  memory.  Tragical  end  of  Alexander,  479. 

SBCT.  VII.  Epaminondas  is  chosen  general  of  the  The- 
bans.  Hiss-cond  attempt  against  Sparta.  His  celebrated 
victory  at  Maminea.  Hi*  death  and  eulogy,  482. 

SECT.  VIII.  Death  of  Evagoras,  king  of  Salamis.  Nico- 
cles  his  8  •!!  succeeds  him.  Admirable  character  of  ihat 
prince,  4Sj. 

SBCT.  IX.  Artaxerxes  Mnemon  undertakes  the  reduction 
of  Egypt.  I ph ic r.ucs  the  Athenian  is  appointed  general 
of  the  Athenian  troops.  The  enterprise  miscarries  by  the 
111  conduct  of  Pharnabatus  the  IVrsi.m  general,  486. 

SBCT.  X.  The  Lacedaemonians  semi  Agesilaus  to  the  aid 
M'  Tachi«,  who  had  revolted  from  the  Persians.  The  king 
•f  Sparta's  actions  in  Egypt.  Hisdeaih.  The  greatest 
part  "f  the  provinces  revolt  against  Artaxerxe*,  487. 

SECT.  XI.  Troubles  at  the  court  of  Aruxerxes  concern- 
lug  his  success  ir.  Death  uf  that  prince,  433. 

SECT  Xll  Causes  of  the  frequent  insurrections  and  re- 
volts iu  the  Persian  empire,  4S9. 


BOOK  IIII. 

THB  HISTORY  OF  THB  PERSIANS  AMD  GRECIANS. 

SECT.  I.  Ochus  ascends  the  throne  of  Persia.  His  cruel- 
ties. Revolt  of  several  nations,  490. 

SECT.  II.  War  of  the  all ies  against  the  Athenians,  491. 

SECT.  III.  Demosthenes  encourages  the  Athenians,  alarm- 
ed by  the  preparations  made  by  Artaxerxes  for  war  He 
barauju.'s  them  in  favour  of  the  .Me<ia|opolitans,and  after- 
wards" of  the  Khodians.  Death  of'Mausolus.  Extraordi- 
nary grief  of  Artemisia  his  wife,  493. 

SECT.  IV.  Successful  expedition  of  O<  hits  arainst  Phoe- 
nicia and  Cyprus,  and  afterwards  gainst  Ezypl,  495. 

SECT.  V.  "Ue.ith  of  Ochus.  Arses  succeeds  him  and  is 
succeeded  by  Darius  Codomannus.  497. 

SECT.  VI.  A  bridgment  of  the  life  of  Demosthenes  till  the 
time  uf  his  appearance  with  honour  and  applause  in  the 
public  asv'nii'in-s  against  Philip  of  Maced  <i*i,  497. 

SECT.  VII.  Digression  upon  the  manner  of  fitting  out 
fleets  by  the  Athenians,  and  the  exemptions  and  other 
marks  of  honour  granted  by  that  city  lo  such  a*  bad  ren- 
dered ir  great  services,  499. 


BOOK  XIV. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 

SBCT.  I.  The  birth  and  infancy  of  Philip.  Beginning  of 
ki*  reign.  His  fust  conquests.  The  birth  of  Alexander,  502. 

SECT  II.  The  sacred  war.  Se.tuel  of  the  history  uf  Phi- 
lip. He  endeavours  in  vain  lo  possess  himself  uf  the  pass 
M  Thermopylae,  507. 

SECT.  III.  Demosthenes,  upon  Philip's  attempting  Ther- 
BiopyU,  harangues  the  Athenians,  and  animate*  them 
•gainst  that  prince.  Lillle  regard  is  paid  lo  his  advice. 
Olynlhus,  upon  the  point  of  being  besieged  by  Philip,  ad- 
dresses liie  Athenians  for  succour.  Demosthenes  endea- 
vours by  his  oraiions  to  rouse  them  from  their  lethargy. 
They  send  but  a  very  iveak  succour,  and  Philip  ai  length 
Uket  the  place,  £08. 
VOL.  1.— a 


SECT.  IV.  Philip  declares  in  favour  of  Thebes  a'.iiinst 
the  Phooeans,  and  fhereoy  enraiint  in  ihe  sacred  war. 
He  lulls  the  Athenians,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances 
of  Demosthenes,  into  security,  bv  a  pretended  peace  and 
false  promises.  He  seizes  on  Thermopyla-,  subjects  the 
Phocseans,  and  puts  an  end  lo  the  sacred  war.  He  is  ad- 
mined  into  the  council  of  the  Ainnhicivons,  511. 

SBCT.  V.  Philip  being  returned  to  Macedonia,  extends 
his  conquests  into  Illyria  and  Thrace.  He  projects  • 
league  with  the  Thebans,  the  Messenians,  and  the  Argives, 
to  invade  Peloponnesus  in  concert  with  them.  Athens 
having  declared  in  favour  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  this 
league  is  dissolved.  He  again  makes  an  attempt  upon 
Eubo-a,  but  Phocion  drives  him  out  of  it.  Character  ol  thai 
celebrated  Athenian.  Philip  besieges  Perinthus  and  By- 
zantium. The  Athenians,  animated  by  the  orations  of 
Demosthenes,  send  succours  lo  those  two  cities,  under  the 
command  of  Phocion,  who  forces  Philip  to  raise  the  siege 
of  those  places,  513. 

SECT.  VI.  Philip,  by  his  intrigues,  succeeds  in  eettinf 
himself  appointed  generalissimo  of  the  Greeks,  in  the 
council  of  ihe  Amphictyons.  He  possesses  himself  of  t'.la- 
taea.  The  Athenians  and  Thebans,  alarmed  by  the  con- 
quest of  this  city,  unite  against  Philip.  He  makes  over- 
tures of  peace,  which  upon  the  remonstrances  of  Demos- 
thenes, are  rejected-  A  battle  is  fought  «  Cheronafa, 
where  Philip  gains  a  signal  victory.  Demosthenes  is  ac- 
cused and  brought  lo  a  trial  ty  /Eschinea.  The  latter  it 
banished  and  eoes  lo  Rhodes,  518. 

SECT.  VII.  Philip,  in  the  assembly  of  the  Amphictyons, 
is  declared  general  of  ihe  Greeks  against  the  Persians, and 
prepares  for  lhat  imponanl  expedition.  Domestic  trouble*  . 
In  his  household.  He  divorce*  Olympias,  and  marries  an- 
other wife.  He  solemnizes  the  marriage  of  Cleopatra  his 
daughu-  r  wilh  Alexander  king  of  Epirus,  and  i*  killed  at 
the  nuptials,  522. 

SECT.  VIII.  Memorable  action*  and  sayings  of  Philip. 
Good  and  bad  qualities  of  lhat  prince,  524. 


BOOK  XV. 

THB  HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 

SECT.  I.  Alexander's  birth.  The  lemple  of  Ephesu*  i* 
burnt  the  *ame  day.  The  happy  natural  inclinations  of 
thai  prince.  Aristotle  is  appointed  his  preceptor,  who  in- 
spires him  wilh  a  surprising  laale  for  learning.  He  break* 
Bucephalus.  527. 

SECT.  II.  Alexander,  alter  ihe  death  of  Philip,  ascend* 
the  throne  at  twenty  years  of  age.  He  subjects  and  redu- 
ces the  nations  contiguous  to  Macedon  who  had  revolted. 
He  goes  into  Greece  lo  dissolve  ihe  alliance  formed  against 
him.  He  captures  and  destroys  Thebes,  and  pardon*  the 
Athenians.  He  procure*  himself  to  be  nominated,  in  ih« 
diet  or  assembly  at  Corinth,  generalissimo  of  the  Greek* 
against  Persia.  He  returns  to  Macedon,  and  make*  pre- 
parations for  carrying  his  arms  into  Asia,  529. 

SECT.  III.  Alexander  sels  oul  from  Macedon  upon  hi* 
expediiion  agaiusl  the  Persians.  He  arrives  at  Ilion,  and 
pays  gr.-at  honour  to  the  tomb  of  Achilles.  He  fights  the 
fir-it  battle  ag  tinst  the  Persians  it  the  river  Granicus,  aud 
obtains  a  famous  victory,  532. 

SE<T.  IV.  Alexander' conqvers  the  greatest  part  of  Asia 
Minor.  He  is  seized  with  a  dangerous  disease, occasioned 
by  bathing  in  the  river  Cydnus.  Philip  ihe  physician 
cures  him  in  a  few  days.  Alexander  passes  ihe  denies  of 
Cilicia.  Darius  advances  al  llie  same  lime.  The  bold 
and  free  answer  of  Charidemus  to  thul  prince,  which  cost* 
him  his  life.  Description  of  Darius's  march,  534. 

SECT.  V.  Alexander  gains  a  famous  victory  over  Darius, 
near  the  city  of  Issus.  The  consequence*  of  lhat  victory, 
539. 

SECT.  VI.  Alexander  marches  viciorious  into  Syria. 
The  treasures  deposited  in  Damascus  are  delivered  to  him. 
Darius  writes  a  teller  to  Alexander  in  the  mosl  haughty 
terms,  M  Inch  he  answers  in  the  same  style.  The  gale*  of 
ihe  cily  of  Sidon  are  opened  lo  him.  Abdolonymus  is  pla- 
ced upon  the  ihrone  against  his  will.  Alexander  lays  siege 
lo  Tyre,  which,  after  having  made  a  vigorous  delence  tor 
seven  monihs,  is  laken  by  storm.  The  fulfilling  of  differ- 
ent prophecies  relating  U>  Tyre,  543. 

SECT.  VII.  Darius  writes  a  second  letter  lo  Alexander. 
Journey  of  the  latter  10  Jerusalem.  The  honour  which  be 
pays  lo  Jaddus  the  high  priest.  He  is  shown  those  pro- 
phecies of  Daniel  which  relate  lo  himself.  The  king 
grants  great  privilege*  lo  the  Jews,  bui  refuses  them  to 
the  >anianuns  He  besiege*  and  lake*  Gaza,  enter* 
Kcypl,  and  subdues  thai  country.  He  there  lays  the  foun- 
dation of  Alexandria,  then  goes  into  Lybia,  where  he 
visits  the  lemple  of  Jupiier  Ammon,  and  cause*  himself 
lo  be  declared  the  son  of  thai  god.  His  return  into  Egypt, 
Mi 

SECT.  VIII.  Alexander,  after  his  relurn  from  Egypt,  r*. 
solves  lo  go  in  pursuit  of  Dinus.  Al  hi*  setting  uul  be 
bear*  of  the  death  of  that  monarch'*  queen.  He  cause*  to 
be  paid  ber  the  honour*  which  were  due  Ui  her  rauk.  lie 


CONTENTS. 


passes  tlie  Euphratea  and  Tigris,  and  comes  up  with  Da- 
rius. The  famous  battle  of  Arbela,  556. 

SECT.  IX.  Alexander  possesses  himself  of  Arbela,  Baby- 
lon, Susa.  Persepolis;  and  finds  immense  riches  in  those 
cities.  At  a  banquet  he  sets  fire  to  the  palace  of  Persepo- 
lis,  560. 

SECT.  X.  Darius  leaves  Ecbatana.  He  is  betrayed  and 
put  in  chain*  by  Bessus  governor  of  Bactria.  The  latter, 
upon  Alexander's  advancing  towards  him,  flies,  after  hav- 
ing covered  Darius  with  wounds,  who  expires  a  few  mo. 
ments  before  Alexander's  arrival.  He  sends  his  corpse  to 
Sysigambis,  565. 

SECT.  XL  Vices  which  first  caused  the  decline,  and  at 
last  the  ruin,  of  the  Persian  empire,  566. 

SECT.  XII.  Lacedsemon  revolt*  from  the  Macedonians, 
with  almost  all  Peloponnesus.  Antipater  inarches  thither, 
and  defeats  the  enemy  in  a  battle,  in  which  Agis  is  killed. 
Alexander  marches  against  Bessus.  Thalestris,  queen  of 
the  Amazons,  comes  to.  visit  him  from  a  very  remote  conn- 
try.  Alexander,  at  his  return  from  Panhia,  abandons  him- 
self to  pleasure  and  excess.  He  continues  his  march 
against  Bessus.  A  pretended  conspiracy  of  PhUolas  against 
the  king.  He  and  Parmenio  his  father  are  put  to  death. 
Alexander  subdues  several  nations.  He  at  last  arrives  in 
Bar.iriana,  whither  Bessus  is  brought  to  him,  567. 

SECT.  XIII.  Alexander,  after  taking  a  great  many  cities 
in  Bactriana,  builds  one  near  the  river  laxartes,  which  he 
calls  by  his  own  name.  The  Scythians,  alarmed  at  the 
building  of  this  city,  as  it  would  be  a  check  upon  them, 
eend  ambassadors  to  the  king,  who  address  themselves  to 
him  with  uncommon  freedom.  After  having  dismissed 
them,  he  passes  the  laxartes,  gains  a  signal  victory  over 
the  Scythians,  and  behaves  with  humanity  to  the  vanquish- 
ed. He  checks  and  punishes  the  insurrection  of  the  Sog- 
dians,  sends  Bessus  to  Ecbatana  to  be  put  to  death,  and 
takes  the  city  of  Petra,  which  was  thought  impregnable, 
673. 

SECT.  XIV.  The  death  or  Clitua.  Several  expeditions 
of  Alexander.  He  endeavours  to  procure  worship  to  be 
paid  to  himself,  after  the  manner  of  the  1'ersians.  Discon- 
tent* arise  among  the  Macedonians.  Detlh  of  CaUisthe- 
bea  the  philosopher,  (TV. 


SECT.  XV.  Alexander  gets  out  foj  India.  A  digrentot 
with  regard  to  that  country.  He  besieges  and  takes  »e»  ,- 
ral  cities  which  appeared  impregnable,  and  is  often  in 
danger  of  his  life.  He  crosses  the  river  Indus,  and  after- 
wards the  Hydaspes,  and  gains  a  signal  victory  over  Porus, 
whom  he  restores  to  his  throne,  580. 

SECT.  XVI.  Alexander  advances  into  India.  A  digres- 
sion relating  to  the  Brachmans.  That  prince  resolves  to 
march  as  far  as  the  Ganges,  which  raises  a  general  discon 
tent  in  his  army.  Remonstrances  being  made  to  him  OB 
that  account,  he  lays  aside  his  design,  and  is  contented 
with  going  no  father  than  the  ocean.  He  subdues  all  ok- 
stacles  in  his  way  thither,  and  is  exposed  to  great  danger 
at  the  siege  of  the  city  of  the  Oxydracue  ;  and  arriving  at 
last  at  the  ocean,  he  afterwards  prepares  for  his  return  iito 
Europe,  ?85. 

SECT.  XVII.  Alexander,  in  his  march  through  deseits,  it 
grievously  distressed  by  famine.  He  arrives  at  Pasaigada, 
where  Cyrus's  monument  stood.  Orsines,  a  power'ul  sa- 
trap, is  put  to  death  through  the  clandestine  intrigues  of 
Bagoas  the  eunuch.  Calanus  voluntarily  meets  hit  death. 
Alexander  marries  Statira,  the  daughter  of  Darius.  Har- 
pal us  arrives  at  Athens;  Demosthenes  is  banishrd.  Tha 
Macedonian  soldiers  make  an  insurrection,  whicK  Alexan- 
der appeases.  He  recalls  Ami  pater  from  Macedonia,  and 
sends  Cralerus  in  his  room.  The  king's  sorrow  for  the 
death  of  Hephsestion,  590. 

SECT.  XVIII.  Alexander  enters  Babylon,  in  spite  of  th» 
sinister  predictions  of  the  Magi  and  other  soothsayers.  H» 
there  forms  the  plans  of  several  voyages  and  conquests. 
He  sets  about  repairing  the  breaches  made  in  the  embank- 
ments of  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  and  rebuilding  the  tem- 
ple of  Belus.  He  abandons  himself  to  immoderate  drink- 
ing, which  brings  him  to  his  end.  The  universal  grief 
spread  over  the  whole  empire  upon  thai  account.  Sysigan* 
bis  is  not  able  to  survive  him.  Preparations  are  made  to 
convey  Alexander's  corpse  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ammon 
in  Libya,  .">'.)  i. 

SECT.  XIX.  The  judgment  which  we  are  to  form  of  Alex 
ander,  598. 

SBCT.  XX.  Reflection*  on  the  Persian*,  Greek*,  and 
Macedonians,  by  Monsieur  Boacuet,  bishop  y{  iVletui,  604 


APPROBATION. 

PARIS,  M  September,  I72t>. 

I  HAVE  read,  by  order  of  the  Lord-Keeper,  a  manuscript  entitled,  "The  Ancient  Histoiy  of  the  Egyptian*,  Carthagini- 
ans, Assyrians,  Babylonians,  M.-'li-s.  Persians,  Macedonians,  and  (Jreeks,"  &c.  In  this  work  appear  the  same  principlci 
of  religion,  of  probity,  and  the  same  happy  endeavors  to  improve  the  minds  of  youth,  which  are  so  conspicuous  in  all  the 
writings  of  this  author.  The  present  work  is  not  confined  merely  to  the  instruction  of  young  people,  but  may  be  of  ser- 
vice to  all  persons  in  general,  who  will  now  have  an  opportunity  of  reading  in  their  native  tongue,  a  great  number  of  cu- 
rio a*  events,  which  before  were  known  to  few  except  the  learned.  SECOUSSIT 


A  LETTER, 


WRITTEN  BY  THE  RIGHT  REVEREND   DR.    FRANCIS   ATTERBURY,   LATE    LORD   BISHOP  OF   ROCHESTER, 
TO  M.    ROLLIN,   IN   COMMENDATION  OF   THIS   WORK. 


KEVERENDE    ATQfK   ERtlDITISSI  ME   VIR, 

CUM,  monente  amico  quoclam,  qui  juxta  secies  tuas 
nabitat,  gcirem  te  Parisios  revertisse,  statui  saluta- 
tum  te  ire,  ut  primum  per  valetuclinem  liceret.  Id 
offirii,  ex  peduiii  infirimtate  aliquairliu  dilatum.cum 
tandem  me  impleturum  gperarem,  frustra  fui;  domi 
non  eras.  Restat,  ut  quod  coram  exequi  non  potui, 
tcriptis  saltern  literis  praestem;  tibique  ob  eaomaia 
quibus  a  te  auctus  sum,  beneficia,  grates  agam.quas 
habeo  certe,  et  semper  habitant  sum,  niaximas. 

Revera  munera  ilia  librorum  nuperis  a  te  amiisedi- 
torum  egregiaac  perhonorificamihi  visa  sunt.  Multi 
enim  facio,  et  te,  vir  praestantissime,  et  tua  omnia 
quaecunque  in  isto  literarum  genere  perpolita  sunt; 
in  quo  quidem  Te  cseteris  omnibus  ejusmodi  scrin- 
toribus  facile  antecellere,  atque  esse  eundem  et  di- 
cendi  et  gentiendi  magistrum  optimum,  prorsts  ex- 
istimo;  cumque  in  exeolendis  his  studiis  aliquant  u- 
lum  ipse  et  operae  et  temporis  posucrim,  libere  ta- 
men  profiteer  me,  tua  cum  legam  ac  relegam,  ea 
edoctum  esse  ate,  non  sol  urn  quae  nesciebam  prorshs, 
ted  etiam  quas  anteadidicisse  mini  visus  sum.  Mo- 
deste  itaque  nimium  de  opere  tuo  scntis,  cum  juven- 
tuti  tantum  instituendae  elaboratum  id  esse  contend  if. 
Ea  certe  scribis,  quas  a  viris  istius  modi  rerum  baud 
imperitis,  cum  voluptate  et  fructu  legi  possunt.  Ve- 
tera  quidem  et  satis  ccgnita  revocas  in  memoriam; 
sed  ita  revocas,  ut  illustres,  ut  ornes;  utaliquid  ve- 
tustis  adjicias  quod  novuin  sit,  alienis  quod  omnino 
tuum:  bonasque  picturasbona  in  lucecollocandoeffi-" 
cis,  ut  etiam  lis,  a  quibus  sxpissime  conspectaa  sunt, 
elegantiorts  tamen  solito  appareant,  et  placeant 
tnagis. 

Certe,  dum  Xenophontem  sa;piiis  versas,  ab  illo  et 
ea  quae  a  te  plurimis  in  locis  narrantur,  et  ipsum  ubi- 
que  nar  ra  rul  i  modum  videris  traxisse,  sty lique  Xeno- 
phontei  nitorem  ac  venustam  simpliritatem  non  imi- 
tari  tantum,  scd  plane  assequi:  ita  ut  si  Gallice  scis- 
tet  Xenophon,  non  aliis  ilium,  in  eo  argumento  quod 
tractas,  verbis  usuruin,  non  alio  prorsus  more  gcrip- 
turuin,  Judicem. 

Hasc  ego,  baud  assentandi  causa  (quod  vitium  pro- 
cul  a  me  abest,)  sed  vere  ex  animi  sententia  dico 
Cum  enim  pulchris  e  te  donis  ditatus  sim,  quibus  in 
eodem  aut  in  alio  quopiam  doctrinae  genere  referen- 
dis  imparem  me  sentio,  volui  tamen  propenai  erga  te 
animi  gratique  testimonium  proferre.et  te  aliquo  sal- 
tern munusculo,  etsi  perquam  dissimili,  remunerari. 

Perge,  vir  docte  admodum  et  venerande,  de  bonis 
literis,  qua;  nunc  neglectae  passim  et  spretae  jacent, 
bene  mereri;  perge  Jiiventutem  Galhcam  (quando 
illi  goliiinmodb  te  utilem  esse  vis)  optimis  et  prascep- 
tis  et  exemplis  informare. 

Quod  ut  facias,  annis  aelatis  tua;  elapsis  multos  ad- 
jiciat  Deus!  iisque  decurrentibus  sanuni  te  praestet 
atque  incoliimem.  Hoc  ex  animo  optat  ac  vovet 

Tui  observantissimus,  FRANCiscus  ROFFENSIS. 

Pransurum  te  niecum  post  festa  dixit  mihi  amirus 
ille  noster,  qui  tibi  vicinus  est.  Cum  statueris  tecum 
quo  die  adfuturus  es,  id  illi  signifirabis.  Me  certe 
•  nnis  malisque  debilitatum,  quandocunque  vent-rig, 
dcxui  invenies.  6°  Kal.  Jan.  1731. 

TRANSLATION. 

•aVEREKD  AND  MOST  LEARNED  SIR, 

WHEN  I  was  informed  by  a  friend  who  lives  near 
you,  that  you  were  returned  to  Paris,  I  resolved  to 
wait  on  you,  as  goon  as  my  health  would  permit.  After 


having  been  prevented  by  the  gout  for  some  time,  I 
was  in  hopes  at  length  of  paying  my  respects  to  you 
at  your  house,  and  went  thither,  but  found  you  not  at 
home.  It  is  incumbent  on  me,  therefore,  to  do  that  in 
writing,  which  I  could  not  in  person,  and  for  all  the 
favors  you  have  been  pleased  to  confer  upon  me,  to 
return  you  the  warmest  acknowledgements  which, 
as  I  now  feel,  I  shall  ever  continue  to  cherish. 

And  indeed  I  esteem  the  booksyou  have  lately  pub- 
lished, as  presents  of  uncommon  value,  and  such  ai 
do  me  very  great  honor.  For  I  have  the  highest  es- 
teem, most  excellent  Sir,  both  for  you,  and  for  every 
thing  that  comes  from  so  masterly  a  hand  as  £ours,  in 
the  kinrl  of  learning  of  which  you  treat;  in  which  I 
sincerely  believe  that  you  far  excel  all  other  writers, 
and  are  at  the  same  time  the  best  master  both  of 
speaking  and  thinking  well :  and  I  freely  confess  t  hat, 
though  I  had  applied  some  time  and  pains  in  cultivat- 
ing such  stu'lies,  when  I  read  your  volumes  over  and 
over  again,  I  am  instructed  by  you  not  only  in  thingt 
of  which  I  w.as  entirely  ignorant,  but  also  those  which 
I  fancied  myself  to  have  learned  before.  You  have, 
therefore,  too  modest  an  opinion  of  your  work,  when 
j  you  declare  it  composed  solely  for  the  instruction  of 
youth.  What  you  write  may  undoubtedly  be  read 
with  pleasure  and  improvement  by  persons  who  are 
proficients  in  learning  of  that  kind.  For  whilst  you 
call  to  mind  ancient  facts  and  things  sufficiently 
known,  you  do  it  in  such  a  manner,  that  you  illus- 
trate, you  embellish  them;  still  adding  something 
new  to  the  old,  something  entirely  ^your  own  to  the 
labors  of  others:  by  placing  good  pictures  in  a  good 
light,  you  make  them  appear  with  unusual  elegance 
and  more  exalted  beauties,  even  to  those  who  have 
seen  an;!  studied  them  most. 

In  your  frequent  correspondence  with  Xenophon. 
you  have  certainly  extracted  from  him,  both  what 
you  relate  in  many  places,  and  every  where  his  ver^r 
manner  of  relating;  you  seem  not  only  to  have  inn 
tated,  but  attained,  the  shining  elegance  and  beauti- 
ful simplicity  of  that  author's  style:  so  that  had  Xen- 
ophon excelled  in  the  French  language,  in  my  judg- 
ment, he  would  have  used  no  other  words,  nor  writ 
ten  in  any  other  manner,  upon  the  subjects  you  treat, 
than  you  have  done. 

I  do  not  say  this  out  of  flattery  (which  is  far  from 
being  my  vice,)  but  from  my  real  sentiments  and 
opinion.  As  you  have  enriched  me  with  yourhand- 
some  presents  which  I  know  how  incapable  I  am  of 
repaying  either  in  the  same  or  in  any  other  kind  of 
learning,  I  was  willing  to  testify  my  gratitude  and 
affection  for  you,  and^  at  least  to  make  you  some 
small,  though  exceedingly  unequal,  return. 

Go  on,  most  learned  and  venerable  Sir,  to  deserve 
well  of  sound  literature,  which  now  lies  universally 
neglected  and  despised.  Go  on,  in  forming  the  youtn 
of  France  ''since  you  will  have  their  utility  to  be  your 
»ole  view)  upon  the  best  precepts  and  examples. 

Which  that  you  may  effect,  may  it  please  God  to 
add  many  years  to  your  life,  and  during  the  course 
of  them  to  preserve  you  in  health  and  security.  Thi< 
i*  the  earnest  wish  and  pi-ayer  of 

Your  most  faithful  friend,     FRANCIS  ROFFEN 

P.  S.  Our  friend,  your  neighbor,  tells  me  you  in 
tend  to  dine  with  me  after  the  holidays.  When  you 
have  fixed  upon  the  day,  be  pleased  to  let  him  know 
it.  Wheneveryou  come,  you  will  be  sure  to  find  on* 
to  weak  with  age  and  gufferings,  as  I  am  at  homa 

December  26',  1731. 


MEMOIR  OF  ROLLIN. 


CHARLES  ROLLIN  was  born  at  Paris,  January  30, 
1661.  lie  derived  no  lustre  from  his  birth,  for  he 
was  the  second  son  of  a  poor  but  honest  cutler,  who 
intended  that  he  should  follow  the  same  profession. 
But,  though  of  humble  birth  and  obscure  parentage, 
his  nascent  genius  was  early  developed  by  those  in- 
timations of  superior  intelligence  and  nobility  of 
mind  which  enable  its  possessors  to  rise  above  their 
circumstances,  and  emerge  from  obscurity  to  fame. 
A  Benedictine  friar,  whom  he  occasionally  served  at 
mass,  perceived  the  dawnings  of  his  young  mind, 
aud  could  not  think  to  see  them  smothered  in  the 
dull  routine  of  a  mechanical  profession.  He  there- 
fore to.u  the  mother  her  son's  abilities,  and  enlarged 
on  the  propriety  and  advantage  of  cultivating  them. 
His  widowed  mother  (for  he  lost  his  father  at  a  very 
early  period;  thought  it  impossible  from  her  situa- 
tion, to  comply  with  a  scheme  which  her  discern- 
ment approved,  and  urged  her  inability  to  give  her 
ton  a  learned  education.  The  difficulty  was  how- 
ever surmounted  by  the  zeal  of  the  benevolent  Ben- 
edictine, who  procured  for  young  Rollin  a  bursary 
•t  the  college  of  Flessis.  There  he  commenced  his 
•todies  with  that  avid  ity  which  grows  by  what  it  feeds 
on.  The  patronage  of  his  ecclesiastical  benefactor 
was  soon  and  amply  repaid  by  the  celerity  of  his  pro- 
gress, and  the  mother  was  made  to  participate  in  the 
triumphs  and  honors  of  her  son,  as  she  was  often 
visited  at  her  humble  dwelling  by  persons  of  high 
birth  and  eminent  rank,  soliciting  that  young  Rollin 
might  spend  the  vacations  with  their  sons,  his  fellow 
students  at  college.  After  having  studied  the  hu- 
manities and  philosophy  at  this  college,  he  devoted 
three  years  to  theology  at  the  Sorbonne,  the  most 
celebrated  Catholic  theological  seminary  in  France. 
His  teacher  in  rhetoric  was  M.  Hersan,  who  then 
enjoyed  considerable  reputation.  He  conceived  such 
an  exalted  opinion  of  Rollin's  virtue  and  abilities,  as 
sometime*  tempted  him  to  call  him  Divine.  When 
any  composition  in  prose  or  verse  was  required  from 
him,  the  professor  was  not  ashamed  to  commend  his 
pupil  even  to  his  own  disparageu,ent.  "Apply,"  he 
would  sav,  "to  Rollin:  he  will  do  it  better  than  I 
can."  VV  hen  this  gentleman  relinquished  his  labors 
at  the  college  of  rlessis.  Rollin,  though  then  only 
21  years  old,  was  judged  by  the  university  competent 
to  succeed  so  able  and  learned  a  master.  From  that 
honor  he  was  debarred  by  nothing  but  his  own  mo- 
desty. He  consented,  however,  to  become  profes- 
sor of  an  inferior  class,  and  in  1687,  was  advanced 
to  the  chair  of  rhetoric.  The  year  following,  M. 
Hersan,  with  the  permission  of  the  king,  resigned 
in  favor  of  young  Rollin  the  professorship  of  elo- 
quence in  the  Royal  College. 

Rollin  was  not  deficient  in  gratitude  to  his  prede- 
cessor, and  in  the  second  volume  of  his  Traite  des 
Etudes,  has  drawn  up  a  warm  and  affectionate  eulo- 
rium  on  his  virtue,  learning,  and  disinterestedness. 
Of  this  last  Rollin  declares,  that  he  showed  a  rare 
example:  first,  in  sacrificing  from  his  private  fortune 
2,000  crowns  for  some  necessary  repairs  and  embel- 
lishments at  the  college  of  Beauvais;  second,  his  vo- 
luntary retirement  to  Compeigne,  his  native  place, 
and  devoting  himself  wholly  to  the  education  of  the 
poor  children  of  the  town,  building  a  handsome 
tcliool-house  for  them,  aud  establishing  a  master  for 


their  instruction,  fulfilling  the  office  of  one  irmself 
assisting  very  frequently  at  their  lessons,  having  al- 
ways some  of  them  at  nis  table,  clothing  many  of 
them,  and  distributing  to  them — all  at  different  sea- 
sons—different rewards  for  their  encouragement. 
The  sweetest  consolation  this  eminent  person  enjoy 
ed,  was  to  think  that,  after  his  death,  these  children 
would  make  for  him  the  sameprayer  that  the  famous 
John  Gerson,  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Paris, 
and  whose  humility  led  him  to  become  schoolmaster 
at  Lyons,  requested  in  his  will,  to  be  made  for  him 
by  his  pupils,  "My  God,  my  Creator,  have  pity  upon 
thy  poor  servant  John  Gerson;"  and  finally,  that  he 
had  the  blessing  of  dying  poor,  in  some  sort,  amidst 
the  poor;  the  remains  of  his  property  hardly  suf- 
ficing for  a  last  endowment  which  he  had  made  of 
Sitter$  of  Charity,  for  the  instruction  of  girls  and 
the  care  of  sick  persons.  Such  is  the  character  of 
M.  Hersan  from  the  grateful  pen  of  his  protege:  Rol- 
lin. When  our  author  succeeded  to  the  office,  as 
related  before,  he  made  it  one  of  his  chief  cares  to 
make  his  pupils  cultivate  the  knowledge  of  their  na- 
tive tongue,  and  to  make  themselves  familiar  with  tin 
chief  works  in  poetry  and  prose,  which  are  contain* 
ed  in  the  French  language.  Classical  literature 
seems  then  to  have  been  in  a  declining  state,  as  the 
knowledge  of  the  Greek  language  had  been  so  much 
neglected,  that  Rollin  had  the  honor  of  reviving  it 
in  the  university.  To  fix  his  pupils'  attentions  on 
these  studies,  he  established  examinations,  to  which 
the  public  were  admitted,  and  in  which  it  was  the 
duty  of  the  students  to  give  an  account  of,  and  an- 
swer questions  relative  to  the  Latin  or  Greek  authors; 
they  had  read  during  the  preceding  years.  These 
exercises  were  found  so  useful  and  so  agreeable  tc 
the  taste  of  the  nation,  that,  without  any  senatus  con- 
sultum,  they  were  adopted  by  all  the  colleges;  and 
from  these  they  passed  into  private  schools,  and 
penetrated  (our  author  says)  into  all  the  provinces. 
It  was  a  custom,  more  ancient  than  wise,  in  the 
university,  for  professors  to  compose  tragedies,  the 
different  characters  of  which  were  sustained  by  the 
pupils.  Against  this  practice  Rollin  argues  most 
strenuously,  in  his  fourth  volume  of  his  Method  of 
Studying  the  Belles  Lettres,  on  moral  and  religious 
considerations,  as  having  a  tendency  to  convert  uni- 
versities and  schools  into  play-houses;  to  engender 
improper  amorous  feelings  into  the  youthful  mind; 
aiu!  thus  to  undermine  those  principles  of  honor  and 
piety,  which  ought  to  be  so  sedulously  inculcated  and 
cultivated.  His  chief  objection  was— the  practice  i» 
these  tragedies  of  robing  the  young  pupils  in  female 
dresses— a  practice  utterly  repugnant  to  the  express 
declaration  of  scripture: — "The  woman  shall  not 
wear  that  which  pertaineth  unto  a  man,  neither  shall 
a  man  put  on  a  woman's  garment;  for  all  that  do  so 
are  abomination  to  the  Lord  thy  God." — Dtut.  xxii 
5.  This  custom  probably  originated  among  the  hea- 
thens, who  had  male  and  female  deities,  as,  Isis  and 
Osiris  among:  the  Egyptians,  Ashtaroth  and  Tammus 
among  the  Phoenicians,  and  Mars  and  Venus  among 
the  Greeks.  The  Iliad  of  Homer  abounds  in  narra- 
tives of  the  libidinous  intercour«e  and  amours  of  the 
gods.  Venus  was  tl.e  supposed  (rod d ess  of  love  ana 
pleasure.  Mars  the  god  of  war  and  arms.  Men  there- 
fore worshipped  Venus  in  flowered  garments  of  wo  • 
£  13 


14 


MEMOIR  OF  ROLLIN. 


men,  and  the  women  wore  a  coat  of  mail  and  armor, 
wht  n  they  worshipped  Mar*— these  dresses  being 
deemed  suitable  to  the  peculiar  character  of  these 
deities,  and  therefore  more  pleasing  to  them.  It 
wa»  probably  this  idolatrous  practice,  which,  as 
Lowman  thinks,  originated  the  above  express  pro- 
hibition. The  exhibition  of  such  tragedies,  Rollin 
informs  us,  wa*  condemned  by  the  corporation  of 
the  city  of  Toulouse,  and  literary  exercises  adopted 
instead  of  them  at  the  college  of  Esquile;  and,  in 
his  own  day,  this  obnoxious  practice  had  been  aban- 
doned by  most  of  the  colleges  at  Paris ;  and  was  soon 
afterwards  relinquished  at  the  university.  One  of 
the  professors  at  that  university,  M.  Belleville,  was 
distressed  with  agonizing  reflections  on  his  death- 
bed, for  having  followed  this  custom,  which  he  knew 
had  been  the  occasion  of  immoral  practices  to  sev- 
eral of  his  scholar*. 

A  similar  practice  still  exists  at  Westminster 
school,  where  the  scholars  are  annually  obliged  by 
the  teachers  to  perform  one  of  Terence's  comedies. 
We  have  therefore  no  reason  to  boast  of  our  supe- 
rior morality  and  discernment  in  still  following  this 
anti-scriptural  and  Pagan  custom,  which  has  been 
long  exploded  in  France;  and  that  in  virtue  of  the 
unbending  piety  and  persevering  opposition  of  a 
Roman  Catholic  professor. 

After  having  held  the  office  of  the  rhetorical  pro- 
fessorship about  8  or  10  years  with  great  reputation, 
our  author  resigned  his  situation  with  the  view  of 
devoting  his  leisure  to  the  study  of  ancient  history. 
His  absence  from  the  university  was  short.  He  was 
recalled  in  the  close  of  1694  to  oil  the  office  of  rector. 
This  office  he  enjoyed  two  years  successively;  and 
while  he  occupied  that  eminent  literary  station,  he 
wa*  assiduous  and  vigilant  in  performing  its  duties — 
was  strict  in  maintaining  the  college  discipline — re- 
vived the  ancient  customs — and  introduced  some 
salutary  reforms.  In  compliance  with  the  university 
statutes,  he  visited  the  colleges — a  useful  duty  which 
his  predecessors  had  imagined  they  were  at  liberty  to 
neglect.  Heconverted  into  a  law  the  custom  of  com- 
mencing the  lecture  in  the  classes  of  humanity  and 
philosophy,  with  the  explanation  of  »jine  passage  of 
scripture;  and  with  the  same  view  of  extending  bib- 
lical knowledge,  he  published,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
inferior  classes,  a  collection  of  maxims  selected  from 
the  Old  and  New  Testament.  Though  personally 
considered,  no  man  was  more  humble  and  inoffensive 
than  our  author,  yet  when  the  rights  of  his  office 
were  concerned,  and  of  course  the  dignity  of  the 
university,  none  was  more  tenacious  of  supporting 
them — of  which  he  gave  teveral  eminent  instances. 
On  the  expiration  of  his  rectorship,  Rollin  was  en- 
paged  in  superintending  the  education  of  the  ne- 
phews of  Cardinal  de  Noailles.  The  Abb£  Vitte- 
oient  recalled  him  to  a  public  station  by  obtaining  for 
him  the  office  of  Principal  of  the  college  of  Beauvais.. 
It  was  with  some  difficulty  he  could  be  prevailed  on 
by  the  persuasions  of  M.  Duguet,  a  learned  theolo- 
gian, to  undertake  its  official  duties,  from  an  anxious 
sensibility,  which  magnified,  in  his  apprehensions, 
the  difficulties  he  would  have  to  encounter.  Rohiti 
entreated  them  to  furnish  him  with  such  lights  and 
instructions  as  were  necessary  to  be  imparted  to  the 
numerous  youths,  whose  education  he  was  now  to 
superintend.  M.  Duguet  complied  with  the  request, 
anil  published  his  Commentaries  on  the  six  days' 
work  of  Creation  and  on  Genesis.  The  first  part  of 
this  work,  published  in  a  separate  volume,  under  the 
title  of  "An  Explication  of  the  Work  of  the  Six 
Days,"  is  declared  by  the  Siecle*  1. it  tenures  de  la 
France  to  be  an  excellent  work,  in  which  the  ulile  is 
conjoined  with  the  dulce.  The  elevation  of  Rollin 
was  of  great  advantage  to  the  college  of  Beauvais. 
This  society,  which  had  previously  been  almost  de- 
serted, began  to  abound  with  scholars  under  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  new  principal.  A  singular  instance 
is)  given  of  the  uncommon  reputation  our  author  en- 
joyed:— A  rich  gentleman  of  one  of  the  provinces,  at- 
tracted by  the  fame  of  Kollin,  brought  hi*  son  to  be 
received  as  a  pensioner  in  the  college  of  Beauvais. 
Rollin  declared  his  inabilit"  to  admit  him.  a*  the 


number  of  pensioners  was  already  inconveniently 
great,  and  to  convince  the  father,  conducted  him 
through  all  the  apartments  and  sleeping  rooms 
which  were  completely  occupied.  However,  paren- 
tal expectation  was  not  to  be  so  easily  frustrated: 
"I  have  come  to  Paris  (exclaimed  the  father.)  on 
purpose  to  bring  you  my  son.  I  shall  depart  to-mor- 
row, and  I  will  send  him  to  you  with  abed.  I  hav« 
but  him, you  may  put  him  in  the  court — in  the  cellar, 
if  you  please — but  let  him  be  in  your  college,  and 
from  that  moment  I  shall  have  no  uneasiness  about 
him."  The  goodness  of  Rollin  could  not  resist  such 
an  appeal  as  this.  He  was  compelled  to  receive  vhe 
youtli,  and  to  dispose  of  him  in  his  own  apartments, 
until  he  could  place  him  among  the  other  scholars. 

In  Rollin's  days,  the  principal  of  a  college  much 
resembled  the  nfaster  of  a  seminary.  It  was  his  office 
not  only  to  guard  the  discipline  and  preside  over  the 
studies  of  the  scholars,  but  also  to  instruct  them  in 
religious  and  moral  duties;  and  even  attend  to  their 
diet  and  personal  comforts.  How  he  executed  his 
official  functions  in  these  departments,  Rollin  himself 
has  told  us  at  length  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Belle* 
Lettres.  He  endeavored  to  combine  and  perpetuate 
among  his  countrymen  accomplished  literature  and 
correct  taste;  and  made  it  hi*  study  to  repay  with 
gratitude,  the  favors  of  his  Benedictine  friend — of  M. 
Hersan,  and  those  dignities  which  the  university  of 
Paris  had  conferred  on  him — by  laboring  to  advance 
others  in  that  honorable  course  which  he  himself  had 
trodden.  One  of  the  most  learned  of  his  numerous 
pupils  was  M.  Crevitr,  the  author  of  several  volumi- 
nous works.  He  continued  Rollin's  Roman  History' 
but  with  inferior  success  to  his  master.  He  publisn- 
ed  also  a  History  of  the  Roman  Emperors,  and  an 
edition  of  Livy,  though  he  is  not  entitled  to  the  whole 
credit  of  the  latter  performance.  This  latter  work 
originated  in  several  literary  conversations  which 
Crevier  had  with  Rollin,  several  of  the  professors  of 
Beauvais,  the  Abbed'  Asfeld,  and  others.  Crevier, 
as  the  youngest  person, had  the  task  assigned  him  of 
digesting  and  compiling  the  matter  of  these  discus- 
sions. They  took  place  during  the  college  vacation. 
It  was  Rollin's  zeal  which  produced  them,  as  he  con- 
sidered them  a  mere  recreation.  The  work  consists 
of  a  number  of  learned  and  concise  notes  on  Livy's 
Roman  History. 

Rollin  had  hitherto  passed  hisdays  in  calm  weather 
and  uninterrupted  sunshine,  but  a  cloud  at  length 
arose  and  obscured  the  horizon  of  his  life,  verifying 
the  old  remark — "That  an  unclouded  morn  is  not  al- 
ways followed  by  a  clear  and  serene  evening."  No 
virtues,  however  great — no  labors,  however  disin- 
terested— no  piety,  however  sublime  and  ardent, 
could  protect  him  from  the  storm  of  persecution. 
He  was  impeached  with  Jansenism — a  crime  not  to 
be  forgiven  by  a  Jesuit.  As  many  readers  do  not 
know  what  Jansenism  is,  it  may  be  proper  to  inform 
them,  that  the  term  arose  from  Cornelius  Jansen, 
Bishop  of  Ypres,  whose  voluminous  posthumous 
work,  entitled  "Augustine,"  was  published  in  1640. 
In  this  work  Jansen  professes  to  give  a  clear  state- 
ment of  the  opinions  of  the  renowned  African  bishop 
respecting  predestination  and  grace;  and  strong!/ 
advocates  his  anti-pelagian  doctrines  of  absolute, 
eternal,  and  personal  election,  original  sin,  human 
depravity,  efficacious  grace,  particular  redemption, 
and  the  perseverance  of  the  saints;  and  maintains 


these 


he  per 
to  nav 


e  been  the  orthodox  sentiments  of  the 


Western  Church.  This  alarmed  the  Jesuits,  whobad 
been  long  at  issue  with  their  rivals  the  Duminicsjis, 
on  these  points;  and  were  perfectly  sensible  that  if 
these  opinions  should  gain  ground,  their  cause  and 
influence  wa*  gone.  They  bore  a  very  strong  simi- 
larity to  the  theological  sentiments  of  the  reformer 
of  Geneva;  *o  strong  indeed,  that  the  only  percep- 
tible difference  lay  in  the  phraseology  which  Janseu 
adopted,  in  order  to  avoid  the  charge  of  coalescing 
with  the  opinions  of  that  heresiarch  John  Calvin. 


Inquisitors  prohibited  the  sale  of  Jan- 


wt     te  op 

The  Romish 

ten's  book  in  1641  ;  and  in  1642,  a  bull  was  fulminated 

against  it  by  Urban  VIII.;  and  in  1653.  Innocent  X. 

publicly  condemned  in  a  famous  bull,  by  the  influ- 


MEMOIR  OF  ROLLIN. 


15 


ence  pt  'he  Jesuits,  the  five  following  propositions  in 
the  bishop  of  Ypres's  book :—  -1st,  That  there  are  sev- 
eral divine  precepts,  which  good  men.  notwithstand- 
ing their  desire  to  obey  ther.i,  are  nevertheless  abso- 
lutely unable  to  obey,  nor  has  God  given  that  meas- 
ure of  grace,  that  is  essentially  necessary  to  render 
them  capable  of  such  obedience.  2d,  That  no  man, 
in  this  corrupt  state  of  nature,  can  resist  the  influence 
of  Divine  Grace,  when  it  operates  upon  the  mind. 
3d,  That,  in  order  to  render  human  actions  meritori- 
ous, it  is  not  requisite  that  they  be  free  from  necessity, 
btt  only  that  they  be  free  from  constraint.  4lh,  That 
the  semi-pelagian  opinion  of  freewill,  is  a  gross  error. 
5th.  That  whoever  affirms  that  Christ  atoned  by  his 
d«  ath,  for  the  sins  of  all  mankind,  is  a  semi-pelagian. 
Four  of  these  propositions  were  declared  Heretical 
in  this  bull;  but  the  5th  and  last  proposition  was  con- 
demned as  rath,  impious,  and  injurious,  to  the  Su- 
preme Being.  The  Jansenists  uttered  complaints  and 
replies ;  and  as  the  five  condemned  propositions  were 
not  given  in  Jansen's  own  words,  they  denied  that 
they  were  to  be  found  in  his  book.  In  the  sequel  the 
Jansenists  and  Jesuits  were  entangled  in  a  violent 
dispute  concerning  the  extent  of  Divine  Grace.  The 
latter  maintained  that  sufficient  grace  is  bestowed  on 
all  mankind  ;  that  the  efficacy  of  this  grace  wholly  de- 
pends on  the  spontaneous  choice  of  the  human  will, 
or.  in  other  words,  on  a  self-determined  volition ;  and 
that  therefore,  no  additional  Divine  aid  is  at  nil  ne- 
cessary, to  render  such  grace  effectual.  The  former, 
on  the  contrary,  denied  the  existence  of  anv  such  gen- 
eral £  race ;  that  no  grace  is  sufficient,  unless  it  be  at 
the  same  time  efficacious;  that  it  is  not  the  volition 
which  determines  the  grace,  but  the  grace  which  de- 
termines the  volition,  lor  no  one  can  act  spiritually 
without  efficacious  grace.  The  Jansenists  produced 
powerlul  champions  from  amongst  themselves  to  ad- 
vocate their  cause — as,  Nicole,  Arnauld,  Quesnel ; 
and,  ins  tar  omnium,  the  renowned  Blaise  Pascal, 
whose  profound  and  universal  genius  cannot  be  suffi- 
citntly  admired.  In  his  immortal  work,  called  the 
Provincial  Letler$ — a  work,  admired  by  Frenchmen 
of  the  most  opposite  tastes  and  principles,  as  Bossuet 
and  Voltaire,  lioileau  and  D'Alembert — he  made  a 
transition  from  the  subject  of  sufficient  and  efficacious 
grace,  to  the  principles  and  morality  of  his  oppot 
oenU,  which  he  attacked  with  such  strength  of  argu- 
ment, and  exposed  with  such  poignant  satire  and  bit- 
ter ridicule,  as  paved  the  way  for  the  ruin  ot  the  Je- 
suits. They  retained  their  power,  however,  long 
enough  to  inflict  consummate  vengeance  on  the  soci- 
ety of  the  Messieurs  de  Port  Royal.  By  Louis  XIV., 
under  the  influence  of  his  conlVssor,  a  ferocious  Je- 
suit, that  monastery,  which  had  become  illustrious 
by  the  residence  of  learned  and  profound  scholars, 
and  devout  nuns,  was  razed  to  the  foundation,  and 
the  very  dead  disinterred  to  gratify  the  vengeance  of 
the  infamous  disciples  of  the  fanatic  Loyola,  in  1709. 
In  1713,  the  famous  bull  Unigenitus,  came  forth 
against  the  Jansenists,  which,  though  warmly  opposed 
by  the  Cardinal  de  JVoailleandagreat  portion  of  the 
r  rench  clergy, at  length  received  theauthority  of  the 
French  parliament,  and  was  registered  among  the 
laws  of  the  stale.  To  such  a  length  was  the  power 
of  the  Jesuits  carried,  that  even  the  dying  were  not 
allowed  the  benefits  ol  the  sacrament  and  extreme 
•action,  unless  they  renounced  the  errors  of  Jansen- 
ism, and  acquiesced  in  the  bull  I'nigenitus.  This  oc- 
casioned fresh  disturbances  over  all  the  kingdom; 
nor  were  they  quelled  till  the  order  of  the  Jesuits 
wa»  abolished.  It  is  remarkable,  that  during  the 
late  awful  storm  of  Divine  vengeance  which  over- 
took the  intolerant  and  selfish  clergy  in  that  kiiifc- 
Uoin,  the  Jausenists  comparatively  escaped.  Al- 
though thousands  of  the  clergy  fled  their  country  in 
terror,  an. I  sought  refuge  even'amongst  heretics,  not 
aJanseiiist  was  found  amongst  the  number.  The  sub- 
ject of  this  memoir  was  a  passionate  admirer  of  the  il- 
lustrious Literati  of  the  Port  Royal,  and  a  warm  sup- 
p.irti-r  of  JanseniMii,  which  he  defended  by  several 
productions  of  hi*  pen.  Of  course  he  could  not  es- 
cape the  ruin  of  his  party  ;  and  was  therefore  finally 
commanded  to  quit  the  ill-ge  of  Beauvais.  This  he 


bore  with  pious  mag  nanimit y,  and  on  the  evening  of 
the  6th  of  June,  1712',  he  silently  left  the  college,  after 
having  paid  in  the  chapel  the  sacrifice  of  devotion 
to  his  heavenly  Protector,  without  any  attendant, 
and  without  any  consolation,  but  what  arose  from  a 
consciousness  of  integrity  and  virtue,  and  that  he 
was  suffering  in  the  cause  of  persecuted  truth.  He 
fixed  his  abode  in  a  retired  part  of  Paris,  where 
he  had  purchased  a  small  house,  where  he  dwelt 
til)  his  death.  Still,  however,  he  was  not  idle,  nor 
suffered  to  be  so.  The  concerns  of  education,  and 
the  interests  of  youth,  occupied  his  attention.  Pa- 
rents wishing  to  consult  him  respecting  their  chil 
dren,  constantly  intruded  on  his  solitude;  and  were 
not  satisfied  that  they  had  discharged  their  duty  to 
them  unless  they  sought  and  obtained  our  author'* 
judicious  advice.  Even  his  successor  in  the  college 
of  Beauvais,  M.  Coffin,  paid  such  deference  to  his 
judgment,  that  he  never  Tentured  to  undertake  anjr 
thing  of  importance  without  having  first  asked  his 
advice.  He  used  his  leisure  hours  in  publishing  au 
edition  of  Quintilian's  Institutions,  which  has  been 
reprinted  in  London,  and  which  is  still  used  in  the 
schools  of  our  Gallic  neighbors.  This  edition  com- 
mences with  a  Latin  preface  of  great  purity  and  ele- 
gance, wherein  Rollin  characterizes  the  merit  of  thi« 
great  rhetorician,  and  explains  the  utility  of  his  work 
for  forming  both  the  orator  and  the  man  of  virtue. 
The  text  is  elucidated  with  short  notes,  and  a  sum- 
mary of  contents  at  the  head  of  each  chapter. 

This  edition  appeared  in  1715;  and  the  same  year 
he  was  appointed  by  the  university  Procureiir,  or 
Chief  of  the  Nation  of  France.  In  17'20,  he  published 
his  Method  of  teaching  and  studying  the  Belles  Let- 
tres,  in  six  parts:  the  first  treating  the  study  of 
languages — I- rench,  Latin,  and  Greek;  the  second 
treats  of  poetry;  the  third  of  rhetoric;  the  fourth 
and  fifth  are  appropriated  to  philosophy  and  history ; 
and  the  last  enters  into  a  detailed  account  of  the  pro- 
per management  of  youth  and  the  government  of  a 
college.  These  subjects,  if  not  treated  in  a  profound, 
are  at  least  handled  in  an  agreeable  manner.  He  pos- 
sessed a  talent— common  to  Frenchmen — of  saying 
common  things  in  a  pleasant  way;  and  his  disquisi- 
tions are  often  more  remarkable  for  their  oratorial 
neatness,  than  philosophical  profundity  or  acumen. 
This  work,  however,  has  been  long  superseded  bj 
similar  works  in  our  own  language.  It  is  still  how- 
ever a  useful  work,  and  may  be  perused  with  both 
profit  and  pleasure  by  a  curious  and  attentive  read- 
er— chiefly  as  giving  a  view  of  the  best  French  cla»- 
sical  writers  and  works. 

In  1730,  Rollin  was  again  elevated  to  the  office  of 
Rector  of  the  university  of  Paris.  But  having  plainly 
evinced,  in  a  discourse  delivered  on  the  30th  of  De- 
cember 1730,  his  attachment  to  the  principles  of  Jan- 
senism, his  honors  were  again  violently  torn  from 
him,  after  he  had  enjoyed  them  but  a  few  months; 
and  he  was  displaced,  and  driven  into  his  former  re- 
tirement. Intolerance,  however  it  might  deprive 
him  of  his  honors,  was  unable  to  ruin  his  well-earned 
fame,  or  snatch  the  pen  from  his  hands,  or  shut  the 
press  against  his  publications.  To  assist  those  studies 
of  youth,  over  which  he  had  so  long  and  laudably  pre- 
sided, he  had  composed  his  Ancient  History,  which 
appeared  in  thirteen  volumes  12mo.  at  different 
times  and  which  was  completed  in  1729, 1730.  In  the 
short  space  of  three  years  after  his  expulsion,  a  sec- 
ond edition  of  the  same  work  appeared  in  1734—1738. 
This,  of  all  his  works,  has  obtained  the  greatest  ce- 
lebrity for  its  author — has  spread  his  renown  through 
the  continent,  and  what  is  no  small  honor,  has  made 
his  name  as  familiar  to  British  readers  as  those  of  the 
most  esteemed  amongst  our  own  countrymen.  Re- 
putation so  extensive  and  so  durable,  must  be  built 
on  no  ordinary  merit.  The  author  has  in  fact  done 
more  than  is  intimated  in  the  title  of  his  work.  It  is 
not  merely  an  accompaniment  to  scholastic  studies, 
or  a  meagre  analytic  compend  of  events,  but  contain* 
a  fund  ol  knowledge  and  gratification  suited  to  every 
taste.  The  narrative  is  so  deeply  imbued  with  the 
spirit  and  feeling  of  antiquity,  that  those  who  are  de 
barred  from  the  classical  originals,  cannot  repair  to 


16 


MEMOIR  OF  ROLLIN. 


a  better  source  to  form  correct  notions  of  the  man- 
nersand  temper  of  ancient  nations;  while  the  erudite 
scholar  will  be  delighted  to  find  the  substance  of  his 
studies  embodied  and  presented  to  the  view  of  his 
mind  in  one  consistent  work.  To  accomplish  such  a 
work,  required  a  very  enlarged  range  of  classical  eru- 
dition. A  very  slight  inspection  will  convince  every 
—even  the  most  ordinary,  as  well  as  the  most  enlight- 
ened— reader,  that  he  who  executed  such  a  task  was 
BO  ordinary  man.  Whatever  moral  instruction  can 
be  drawn  from  the  perusal  of  historical  events  or 
biographical  facts,  is  sure  to  be  found  in  his  pages. 
With  these  they  are  almost  as  thickly  interspersed 
••  are  the  tragedies  of  Euripides,  but  with  more  pro- 
priety, since  history  furnishes  the  maxims  drawn 
from  experience,  whether  it  be  that  of  individuals  or 
societies,  or  nations,  while  tragedy  attempts  to  pro- 
duce the  same  effect  by  emotions  of  terror  or  pity. 
His  custom  of  moralizing  sp  much  arose  from  his  so- 
licitude to  inspireyouthful  minds  with  the  principles 
of  virtue.  It  was  chiefly  for  this  purpose  that  the 
Ancient  History  was  compiled.  Even  persons  of 
riper  years  and  more  matured  judgment,  may  be  both 
pleased  and  edified  with  his  sentiments.  His  contem- 
porary the  Dukeof  Cumberland, paid  him  the  follow- 
ing compliment:  "  I  know  not  how  M.  Hoi  tin  mana- 
ges. Every  where  else  reflections  weary  me;  in  hi* 
book  they  charm  me, and  1  never  lose  a  single  word  of 
them."  Their  intention  is  good,  and  their  tendency 
excellent,  whatever  opinion  may  be  formed  of  their 
profusion. 

Nothing  ought  to  be  more  cautiously  guarded  a- 
gainst  than  an  excessive  admiration  of  learned  and 
classical  antiquity.  It  is  the  easily  besetting  sin  of 
those  who  have  drunk  deep  and  long  at  the  fountain 
of  Pagan  lore,  whether  in  philosophy  or  poetry,  his- 
tory or  elocution.  Its  tendency  is  in  some  degree  to 
paganize  the  mind,  or  to  produce  an  anomalous  com- 
mixture of  heathen  and  Christian  principles  insensi- 
bly in  the  scholar  himself.  Our  author  was  quite 
aware  of  this  tendency ;  and  in  order  to  counteract  it, 
determines  the  merit  of  Pagan  actions  by  the  stand- 
ard of  Divine  Revelation.  He  did  not  judge  Pagans 
bemselves  by  this  standard,  which  would  nave  been 
'  agrantly  unjust — a  standard  which  they  did  not  pos- 
tess — but  their  actions  alone.  He  makes  due  allow- 
ance for  the  situation  in  which  Pagans  were  placed; 
but  will  admit  of  no  palliation  under  that  light  which 
reve.ation  has  produced.  There  is  much  more  pious 
feeling,  and  regard  to  religious  principle,  to  be  found 
in  his  Ancient  History,  than  in  the  historical  works 
of  Robertson.  No  insidious  attacks  upon  Revelation 
— no  covert  insinuations  against  the  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity— no  profane  ridicule  of  sacred  things, disgrace 
bit  pages,  as  they  do  those  of  a  Voltaire,  a  Gibbon, 
and  a  Hume.  He  does  not  labor  to  unsettle  the  faith 
or  principles  of  his  reader;  nor  does  he  display  that 
heartless  indifference  to  the  welfare  of  his  species, 
which  is  so  predominant  in  the  elegant  narrative  of 
Hume. 

NOD  ulla  anguis  in  herba 
Latet,  nee  beret  latcri  lelhalii  arundo. 

_  His  style,  which  his  translator  has  rery  happily  co- 
pied, is  graceful,  easy, and  harmonious.  It  is  formed 
upon  the  model  of  Xenophon,  with  whose  writings  he 
was  intimately  acquainted,  and  the  study  of  which 
was  his  favorite  employment.  So  successfully  has  he 
imitated  his  beauties,  that,  as  the  disciple  of  Socrates 
was  called  the  Attic  Bee,  so  the  pupif  of  Hersan  has 
been  styled  by  Montesquieu,  in  his  posthumous  i 
works,  the  Bee  of  France.  Yet  impartiality  obliges 
as  toconfess, that  his  work  exhibits  several  considera- 
ble defects.  It  possesses  little  critical  acumen.  He 
does  not  seem  remarkable  for  that  accurate  discrimi- 
nation which  is  necessary  in  an  historian,  (or  distin-  ! 
guishing  between  improbability  and  verisimilitude; 
nor  that  critical  sagacity  which  can  guide  a  reader  ! 
clearly  through  the  various  discordant  narratives  of 
Greek  and  Roman  historians.  He  is  often  very  credu- 
lous. His  facts  are  not  always  authentic,  nor  is  his 
chronology  remarkable  for  its  accuracy:  yet  his  cre- 
dulity iirny  be  excused,  as  he  was  educated  in  a  com- 
munity where  credulity  is  confounded  with  faith; 


and  where  as  much  <-ependence  is  placed  on  the  tra- 
ditionary legends  of  lying  monks  as  on  Revelation 
itself.  It  is  hardly  possible  for  such  a  man  as  Rollia 
educated  in  an  idolatrous  community,  and  imbued 
with  the  faith  of  Jansenistic  miracles,  not  to  be  in 
some  degree  credulous.  The  Philosophy  of  history, 
which  can  trace  to  their  latent  sources  those  revolu- 
tions in  the  history  of  mind — those  changes  in  polit- 
ical societies,  which  have  so  deeply  affected  the  in- 
terests of  the  human  race,  he  does  not  seen)  very  deep- 
ly to  have  studied.  His  reflections,  though  always 
pious,  moral,  and  appropriate,  seldom  rise  above  the 
rank  of  common-place.  He  is  not  often  brilliant,  sel- 
domer  still  either  sublime  or  profound,  but  he  rarelT 
tails  to  exhibit  symptoms  of  a  feeling  heart  and  a  cul- 
tivated understanding.  His  attemptsat  biblical  criti- 
cism are  seldom  happy;  nor  is  he  always  a  luminous 
commentator,  whether  on  scripture  or  profane  histo- 
ry. He  is  himself  occasionally  chargeable  with  that 
very  fault  which  he  labors  to  prevent  "n  others — an 
excessive  admiration  of  heathen  characters,  as  in  the 
case  of  Cyrus,  Socrates,  and  Lycurgus.  So  great  is  his 
admiration  of  Roman  virtue,  that  he  attempts  to  make 
an  apology  for  their  conduct  towards  unhappy  Car- 
thage, at  the  commencement  of  the  third  and  last  Pu- 
nic war — a  conduct  which  every  man  imbued  witk 
sentiments  of  equity  and  justice,  must  and  will  con 
deiiin.  and  that  in  the  most  unqualified  terms.  IB 
describing  the  Lacediemonian  manners  and  charac 
ter,  he  acts  the  part  of  a  partial  eulogist.  He  tells 
their  virtues,  but  is  silent  on  their  faults.  He  gives 
only  one  side  of  the  picture.  The  character  of  Cvrm 
is  completely  overcharged  with  praise,  and  he  takes 
every  word  of  Xenophon  for  gospel.  His  work,  how- 
evej,  with  all  these  defects,  is  a  very  popular  and 
very  useful  performance:  and  has  been  the  happ/ 
mean  of  awakening  that  latent  curiosity  in  the  mind 
of  the  young  which  is  absolutely  necessary  for  menti 
or  moral  improvement.  It  has  induced  many  to  rea4 
who  otherwise,  perhaps,  would  never  have  turned 
their  attention  that  way.  It  must  also  be  remember 
ed,  that  he  lived  at  a  time  when  the  knowledge  of 
historical  composition  was  but  in  its  infancy;  and 
that  he  had  the  merit  of  paving  the  way  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  that  very  learned  and  laborious,  though 
unequal  work,  the  Ancient  Universal  History.  Hu 
writings  attracted  the  notice  of  the  great,  from  whom 
he  received  many  flattering  tokens  of  regard,  as  the 
Prince  Royal  of  Prussia,  afterwards  Frederick  II. 
Queen  Anne  of  England,  and  the  Regent  Duke  of 
Orleans. 

In  his  old  age,  Rollin  softened  its  pressure  by  in 
nocent  convivial  pleasures.  Then,  more  freely  than 
before,  he  yielded  to  those  numerous  invitations  with 
which  his  society  was  courted.  He  dined  abroad 
almost  daily  with  his  friends,  except  Sundays  and 
festivals.  On  these  occasions  he  always  endeavored 
to  have  his  conversation  seasoned  with  salt,  that  it 
might  be  useful  to  instruct  parents  by  his  experi- 
enced counsels, and  encourage  the  young  bv  his  ten- 
derness, and  improve  them  by  kind  but  well  season- 
ed interrogations.  He  was  sixty  years  of  age  before 
he  ventured  to  write  in  his  native  language,  and 
seventy  when  he  commenced  his  Ancient  History; 
and  at  the  advanced  period  of  seventy-five,  he  un- 
dertook a  new  work.  This  was  the  Ro'inan  History, 
from  the  foundation  of  Rome  to  the  battle  of  Actium- 
the  first  volume  of  which  was  published  with  the 
last  of  his  Ancient  History.  It  appears  that  he  hes- 
itated for  some  time  whether,  at  so  advanced  an  age, 
he  should  commence  so  arduous  a  work — a  period 
which  he  deemed  more  proper  to  be  devoted  to  the 
studies  and  the  practice  of  religion.  But  at  length 
he  was  induced,  by  the  advice  of  his  friends,  to  com- 
mence it,  as  it  would  be  advantageous  to  youth,  and 
which,  therefore,  could  not  fail  of  being  acceptable 
to  his  Creator.  He  finished  half  of  this  inleiu'ed 
performance.  It  does  not,  however,  possess  the  merit 
of  its  predecessors.  It  is  comparatively  a  dull  and 
uninteresting  performance;  and  bears  the  evident 
symptoms  of  old  age,  from  that  excessive  pronenesi 
to  moralize  which  it  betrays  on  alitost  every  occa- 
sion. While  he  merely  performs  the  dry  anil  unu> 


MEMOIR  OF  ROLLIN. 


17 


trfrestmg  part  of  an  annalist,  he  dwells  with  fond 
garruli'y  on  those  events  which  furnished  matter  of 
lerious  reflection  to  his  burdened  mind.  It  is  great- 
ly infeiior  to  the  simitar  works  of  a  Hooke  and  a 
Ferguson.  Its  chief  excellence  consists  in  giving  to 
a  French  reader  an  elegant  translation  ot  some  of 
Livy's  finest  passages.  Crevier,  his  pupil,  continued 
the  history  from  the  ninth  to  the  sixteenth  volume; 
and  however  little  praise  Kollin's  part  of  the  work 
deceives,  Crevier's  deserves  still  less. 

Our  pious  author  was  now  drawing  nigh  the  close 
of  his  useful  career.  He  had  spent  his  days  in  virtue 
ani  honor,  and  their  termination  was  peace.  In  his 
last  illness,  which  though  fatal,  was  short,  when  the 
last  sacraments  were  administered  to  him,  his  sur- 
rounding friends  and  pupils  were  overwhelmed  wHh 
grief  aatl  drowned  in  tears.  The  good  man,  elated 
with  Christian  hope — that  anchor  of  the  renewed 
soul,  which  catches  hold  of  that  within  the  veil, 
whither  our  Great  Forerunner  has  for  us  entered, — 
and  joyously  anticipating  that  abundant  entrance 
which  would  be  ministered  to  his  departing  spirit 
into  the  kingdom  of  God,  reproved  their  lamenta- 
tions, by  declaring  that  no  tears  should  be  shed  for 
him, and  that  his  last  day  was  to  him  and  them  a  fes- 
tival. Supported  in  the  agonies  of  his  dissolving 
frame  by  such  holy  sentiments,  he  expired  in  joy, 
and  died  in  faith,  in  the  eighty-first  year  of  his  age. 
His  funeral  was  attended  bv  the  members  of  that 
university  over  which  as  rector  he  had  twice  pre- 
•ided ;  but  he  was  denied  the  customary  honors  of 
an  Eloge  pronounced  by  a  public  discourse,  for  no 
other  reason  than  because  lie  was  a  Jansenist.  Such 
detectable  bigotry,  such  rancorous  intolerance  which 
pursued  this  eminently  pious,  learned  and  u.-eful 
man,  even  to  his  last  obsequies,  cannot  but  excite 
the  strongest  indignation  in  the  mind  of  every  road- 
er  acquainted  with  his  character  and  writings.  He 
was  accused  of  concealing  in  his  humble  mansion  a 
press,  whence  issued  anonymous  pamphlets.  The 
informations  against  him  were  so  positive  and  urgent, 
that  Cardinal  Fleury,  the  Premier,  was  obliged  to 
order  the  police  to  examine  his  house, and  the  search 
was  as  rigorous  as  the  accusation  had  been  malicious 
and  groundless.  Thus,  in  life  and  death,  this  good 
man  was  the  victim  of  Jesuitical  hate;  and  it  is  mat- 
ter of  grief  and  lamentation  to  every  benevolent 
mind — every  breast  that  throbs  with  compassion  for 
human  wo,  that  such  a  detestable,  such  an  inhuman, 
unrelenting  order,  has  been  again  re-established  by 
papal  authority;  and  that  the  souls  and  the  consci- 
ences of  the  French  people  are  to  be  henceforth  in  the 
keeping  of  the  Jesuits.  It  is  one  of  those  bitter  fruits 
which  sprung  from  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbon 
family  to  the  throne  of  Frai-ce.  Louis  XVI.,  the  best 
and  yet  the  must  unfortunate  of  that  worthless  fami- 


purified  by  tne  mode  j  _i  „  <tssical  antiquity.  It  mat 
be  affirmed,  that  his  virtues  were  of  the  tirst  order, 
and  what  blemishes  were  in  his  character,  were  ai 
small  spots  in  a  luminous  body,  nidi  in  pvlc'ierrimo 
corpore.  Depressed  by  an  obscure  birth  and  an  hum- 
ble fortune,  Rollin  had  to  overcome  many  difficul- 
ties, ere  he  could  obtain  the  most  eminent  situations 
in  learning.  Compelled  to  rely  on  his  own  r*  sources, 
having  no  friends  but  those  whom  his  exemplary 
conduct  and  superior  talents  conciliated,  he  rose 
solely  bv  his  own  merit.  When  this  was  rewarded 
by  success,  perhaps  superior  to  his  ambition,  it  made 
no  visible  change  in  his  mind,  which  seemed  as  hum- 
ble ns  if  he  had  remained  in  his  original  obscurity. 
He  was  never  ashamed  of  his  humble  birth,  nor  hi* 
pristine  low  condition;  but,  on  the  contrary,  gave 
notoriety  to  it  bv  his  own  pen;  and  in  a  Latin  epi- 
gram reminds  one  of  his  friends,  that  he  took  nil 
flight  from  the  caves  of  /Etna  to  the  summit  of  Pin- 
dus. 

Doctissimo  viro  N.  Bosquillon  cum  ei  ciiltollum  in  xcnii 
mittcrct. 

./Etna  litec  non  Pindiis  lib!  mink  munera,  morera 
(.'yrlopi-s  Musis  pra>cipu"re  suum. 

Translatum  /Kini'iis  me  I  indi  in  culmina  abintrU, 

Hie  te,  ei  nesois,  culler,  amine,  docet. 
When  caressed  by  the  most  illustrious  persons  in 
F.nrope,  he  still  lived  in  a  style  as  unostentatious  and 
simple,  as  that  of  the  p'.ainest  citizen.  His  house 
was  so  small,  that  it  cou'.d  sometimes  with  difficulty 
contain  the  numerous  v.sitants  who  flocked  to  him. 
Splendour  and  parade  were  wearisome  to  him. 
When  compelled  by  courtesy  to  be  present  at  those 
entertainments,  which  had  no  attraction  but  the  lux- 
ury of  the  repast  and  the  rank  of  the  guests,  he  al- 
wavs  returned  home  dissatisfied.  "These  dinner* 
(he  would  complain,)  when  one  does  nothing  but 
dine,  fatigue  me;  I  reckon  such  days  lost."  He  pre- 
ferred the  tablt  s  of  virtuous  citizens,  who  were  zeal- 
ous for  the  education  of  their  children.  With  them 
he  had  always  an  opportunity  to  discharge  his  duly 
"These  Che  would  say)  are  my  dukes  and  peers." 
Disinterestedness  was  a  principal  feature  in  his  char- 
acter; and  from  this  noble  principle,  and  not  from 
unavoidable  poverty,  arose  his  moderation.  He  had 
many  opportunities  of  making  a  fortune,  all  of  which 
he  magnanimously  declined  or  rejected.  He  never 
availed  himself  of  his  intercourse  with  the  great, 
for  the  purpose  of  self-aggrandizement,  though  his 
income,  at  the  time  of  his  greatest  prosperity,  was 
scarcely  3,000  livres  annually,  or  j£]25  sterling — a 
sum  hardly  equal  to  one-seventh  of  the  salarv  of  the 
principal  ship  of  one  of  our  Scottish  universities.  He 
relinquished  those  profits,  which  would  have  been 
only  the  just  remuneration  of  his  study  and  labors; 
for  the  sole  stipulation  which  he  made  with  the 


ly,  endeavored   to   cancel  the    injustice   which  had     bookseller  who  published   his   works,  was,  that  he 

night  be  allowed  to  indemnify   him,  if  he  should 


bten  done  Rollin,  and  ordered  a  statue  to  be  erected 
to  his  memory,  among  those  of  ch*  most  illustrious 
men  of  Fram*.  Public  monuments  are  but  a  poor 
recompense  to  the  persecuted  dead,  who  are  now 
beyond  eithf:/  the  love  or  tht  hatred,  the  praise  or 
the  censure,  of  man.  This,  however,  is  all  that  pos- 


happen  to  incur  any  loss.  After  he  had  quitted  the 
college  of  Beauvais,  his  friend  and  protector,  the 
president  of  Mesmes.  secretly  solicited  for  him  a 
pension  upon  an  ecclesiastical  benefice.  When  he 
was  on  the  point  of  obtaining  his  request,  he  sent 


terity  can  ri .'  to  repair  the  injustice,  the  cruelty,  the  |  for  Rollin  to  communicate  the  intelligence,  which 
irreligious  hate  of  generations  that  are  past.     The     (as  he  thought;  would   be  joyfully  received.     But 

our  author  having  heard   the   proposal,  exclaimed 


vengeance  due  to  such  persecutors  is  with  that  God 
to  whom  if.  belongs;  and  who  will  one  day  be  re- 
vealed in  Laming  hre,  to  award  that  just  retribution 
iv'iii  h  sir,-!)  deeds  deserved,  and  do  ample  justice  to 
tt  >e  w</i  thit  s,  which  was  denied  them  bv  their  con- 
teuipoiav'es,  and  that  openly  in  the  view  of  angels 
and  of  men. 

Ii  Rollin's  character,  learning  was  ennobled  by 
v:rtue.  ami  virtue  elevated  by  piety.  His  piety  w;is 
not  affected — was  not  the  homage  that  vice  pi\s  t.» 
firtue.  but  that  of  an  honest  and  ardent  mind.  He 
lived  in  ,vhat  is  termed  the  Angngtan  age  of  French 
literature — the.  n<fe  of  Louis  XIV — so  much  extolled 


with  surprise,  "A  pension  my  Lord,  for  me!  Why 
what  service  have  I  done  or  rendered  the  church 
that  I  should  possess  ecclesiastical  revenues?"  The 
president  reminded  him,  that  the  Christian  educa- 
tion which  he  had  given  to  so  many  youths  was  a 
service  rendered  to  the  church  as  well  as  the  slate; 
and  urged  him,  as  he  was  far  from  being  rich,  to 
accept  the  assistance  which  was  ottered.  "My  Lord. 
(replied  Rollin,;  1  am  richer  than  the  king;"  and 
firmly  persisted  in  rejecting  property  to  which  he 
thought  none  but  churchmen  entitled. 

Though  straitened  in  circumstances,  Rollin  is  com 
by  \  uitaire.  and  was  contemporaneous  with  her  most  j  mended  for  great  liberality  and  benelicence.  He  as- 
ct-lehrated  literary  characters.  Although  not  end-  sisted  with  Fiis  purse  the  scholars  whom  he  intended 
tied  to  the  first  rank  among  trie  writers  of  his  own  •  for  professors;  and  who  were  too  indigent  to  defray 
country;  yet  hit  attainments  were  great — his  talents!  the  entire  expenses  attendant  on  their  education 
respectable — his  learning  extensive — and  his  taste  I  Every  month  nis  servant  distributed  alms  to  a  cca 
VOL.  I.— 3  B  2 


18 


MEMOIK  OF  ROLLIN. 


lidrrable  amount.  On  one  occasion, being  informed 
of  *n  increase  on  the  price  of  bread,  he  wrote  to  his 
faithful  domestic  from  the  Chateau  d'Asfeld:  "You 
must  dou!)le  the  ordinary  distribution  for  the  last 
month  mid  for  this:  you  must  even  make  it  triple, 
i/  you  think  it  necessary.  Do  not  be  afraid  of  im- 
poverishing me  bj  giving  too  much.  It  is  laying 
out  my  money  at  great  interest." 

In  devotion  Rollin  was  rigid  and  even  supersti- 
tious. During  the  time  of  the  popular  fanaticism 
respecting  the  Abbe  Paris,  lie  was  to  be  seen  praying 
at  the  tomb  of  thr  pious  deacon.  He  said  his  brevi- 
ary with  the  most  punctual  regularity.  He  heard 
mass  every  day,  and  always  received  the  sacraments 
on  Sundays.  He  cherish'ed  a  singular  devotion  for 
the  Virgin  Mary;  and  on  the  days  consecrated  to 
her  worship,  he  usually  went  to  the  church  of  No- 
tre Dame,  or  our  Lady,  where  he  heard  mass,  com- 
municated, and  passed  part  of  the  morning  in  pray- 
ers. Every  year,  if  he  was  at  Paris  in  the  month 
of  October,  he  made  on  foot  the  pilgrimage  of  St. 
Dennis,  during  the  festival  of  the  apostle  ot  Frs.nct:. 
He  visited  also  annually  his  parish  church  of  S'. 
John  en  Greve,  to  renew  his  baptismal  vows  at  »iie 


sacred  font.  It  was  a  practice  which  he  commenced 
when  he  was  principal,  and  afterwards  continued 
till  his  death,  to  pray  daily  to  the  Infant  Jesui 
Christ  for  the  young — to  the  Virgin  Mary  for  mo- 
thers— and  to  St.  Joseph  for  fathers  and  mothers. 
During  lent  he  practised  great  austerities,  and  ob- 
served the  discipline  of  the  primitive  church.  Such 
is  the  picture  which  has  been  drav;n  of  Rollin's  de- 
votion. It  is  impossible  not  to  regret  that  so  much 
superstition  and  credulity  should  have  prevailed  in 
his  character,  and  been  displayed  in  his  conduct. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  calculate  the  influence  which 
education,  and  religion  which  constantly  s».cts  UJ-GE 
the  sense*,  r.iay  have  upon  the  human  mind;  and 
how  prone  the  most  vigorous  understandings  are  to 
believe  the  grossest  absurdities,  and  indulge  in  the 
most  foolish  superstitions  and  gloomy  auktenliefc 
What  «!i;ill  we  sav  when  such  a  man  as  the  profound 
Pascal  believed  that  most  absurd  of  all  absurdities, 
Trtnsubstantiation?  But,  alas!  alas!  poor  human 
nature!  While  we  smile  at  Rollin's  superstitions, 
and  shun  his  errors,  let  us  imitate  that  piety  and 
'.hose  benevolent  virtues  which  rendered  him  b* 
loved  and  esteemed. 


CATALOGUE 


OF  THE 

EDITIONS  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  GP.EEK  AUTHORS  CITED  IN  THIS  WORK 


HERODOTUS.     Franco/,  an.  1608. 

THUCYDIDES.  Apud  Henricum  Stephawm,  in. 
1588. 

XENOPHON.  Lntetice  Paritiornm,  apud  Societa- 
ttm  Grtecarum  Editionum,  an.  1625. 

POLYKIUS.     Parisiis,  an.  1609. 

DIODORUS  SICULUS.  Hanovice,  Typit  Wecheli- 
anis,  an.  1604. 

PLUTARCHUS.  Lutetia  Pamiorum,  aPuJ  Socie- 
talein  Grcecarum  Editionum,  an.  1624. 

STRAIIO.  Lutetian  Paruiorum,  Tvpit  rtgiit.  an. 
IC20. 

ATIIKNJEUS.    Lugdwvi,  an.  1612. 


PAUSANIAS.  Hanovia,  Typit  Weihelianit,  an 
1613. 

APPIANUS  ALEXANDER.  Apud  Henric.  SUphan 
an.  1592. 

PLATO.  Ex  nova  Joannis  Serrani  interpret* 
tione.  .Ipiid  Henricnm  Stcphanum,  an.  1578. 

ARISTOTELES.  Lntetiee  Paririorum,  apud  Socit 
totem  Grxcarum  Editionum,  nn.  1619. 

ISOCRATES.     J}pud  Paulwn  Ste/iliannm,  an.  1604 

DIOGEMCS  LAERTIUS.  Jipud  Jfenricuyn  Stcph* 
num.  an.  1594. 

DEMOSTHENES.     Francof.  an.  1604. 

AUUAMJ8.     Lugd.  Jiatav.  an.  1704. 


PREFACE. 


THE  USEFULNESS  OF  PROFANE  HISTORY,  ESPECIALLY    WITH  REGARD  TO 

RELIGION. 


THE  study  of  profane  history  would 
what  is  to  be  little  deserve  to  have  a  serious  aTlen- 
tarTlMBidM  tio"'  and  a  considerable  length  of 
Uie^evenu'aiid  t'nle  bestowed  upon  it,  if  it  were  con- 
eJiroiiolugy.  fined  tothe  bare knowledgeof  ancient 
transactions,  and  an  uninteresting  in- 

?uiry  into  the  eras  when  each  of  them  happened, 
t  little  concerns  us  to  know,  that  there  were  once 
such  men  as  Alexander,  Csesar,  Aristides,  or  Cato, 
and  that  they  lived  in  this  or  that  period;  that  the 
empire  of  the  Assyrians  made  wav  for  that  of  the 
Babylonians,  and  the  latter  for  the  empire  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians,  who  were  themselves  subjected 
by  the  Macedonians,  as  these  were  afterwards  by 
the  Remans. 

I.  The  euurei  But  it  highly  concerns  us  to  know, 
of  the  rise  and  by  what  methods  those  empires  were 
fall ol' empires,  founded;  by  what  steps  they  rose  to 
that  exalted  pitch  of  grandeur  which  we  so  much 
admire;  what  it  was  that  constituted  their  true  glo- 
ry and  felicity  |  and  what  were  the  causes  of  their 
declension  and  fall. 

4.  The  "pniiu  ^  ls  °f  no  'ess  importance  to  study 
mod  olia'rdcter  attentively  the  manners  of  different 
•f  naiimis.  and  nations;  their  genius,  laws,  and  cus- 
•f  tlic  great  toms;  and  especiallv  to  acquaint  our- 
jxTMii.-ithutgu-  selves  with  the  cha'racter  and  dispo- 
»erned  them.  gjtioii,  the  talents,  virtues,  and  even 
vices,  of  those  by  whom  they  were  governed;  and 
whose  good  or  bad  qualities  contributed  to  the 
fc-«-airleur  or  decay  of  the  states  over  which  they 
presided. 

Sucli  are  the  great  objects  which  ancient  history 
presents;  causing  to  pass,  as  it  were,  in  review  be- 
fore us,  all  tile  kingdoms  and  empires  of  the  world; 
and  at  the  same  time,  all  the  great  men  who  were 
any  ways  conspicuous;  thereby  instructing  us,  bv 
example  rather  than  precept,  in  the  arts  of  empire 
and  war,  the  principles  of  government,  the  rules  of 
policy,  the  maxims  of  civil  society,  and  the  conduct 
of  life  that  suits  all  ages  and  conditions. 
3.  The  origin  We  acquire,  at  the  same  time,  an- 
and  progress  of  other  knowledge,  which  cannot  but 
am  and  «cicn-  excite  the  attention  of  all  persons 
who  have  a  taste  and  inclination  for 
polite  learning;  I  mean  the  manner  in  which  arts 
and  sciences  were  invented,  cultivated  and  improved. 
We  there  discover  and  trace  as  it  were  with  the  eye, 
iheir  origin  and  progress;  and  perceive,  with  admi- 
ral! >n,  that  the  nearer  we  approach  those  countries 
Ivhich  were  once  inhabited  by  the  tons  of  Noah,  in 
(he  gi  cater  perfection  we  find  the  arts  and  sciences; 
H'lu-i-f  as  they  seem  to  be  either  neglected  or  for- 
rotten,  in  proportion  to  the  remoteness  of  nations 
from  them;  so  that,  when  men  attempted  to  revive 
those  arts  and  sciences,  they  were  obliged  to  go 
back  to  the  source  from  whence  they  originally 
flowed. 

I  give  only  a  transient  view  of  these  objects, 
though  so  very  important,  in  this  place,  because  I 
have  already  treated  them  at  some  length  eUe- 
nrhere.1 


»  Vol.  iii.  and  iv.  Of  the  method  of  teaching  and  studying 
OH  Belies  Lettra,  fcc 


But  another  object  of  infinitely  4.  Theconnee- 
greater  importance,  claims  our  at-  llon  betwe«« 
fention.  For  although  profane  his-  "="'  ™H  r" 
tory  treats  only  of  nations  who  had  M 

imbibed  all  the  absurdities  of  a  su-  observed. 
perstitious  worship:  and  abandoned 
themselves  to  all  the  irregularities  of  which  human 
nature,  after  the  fall  of  the  first  man,  became  capa- 
ble; it  nevertheless  proclaims  universally  the  great- 
ness of  the  Almighty,  his  power,  his  justice,  and 
above  all,  the  admirable  wisdom  with  which  his 
providence  governs  the  universe. 

If  the  inherent2  conviction  of  this  last  truth  raised, 
according  to  Cicero's  observation,  the  Roman?  above 
all  other  nations;  we  may,  in  like  manner,  atiirm, 
that  nothing  gives  history  a  greater  superiority  to 
many  branches  of  literature,  than  to  see  in  a  manner 
imprinted,  in  almost  every  page  of  it,  the  precious 
footsteps  and  shining  proofs  ol  this  great  truth,  ri*. 
that  God  disposes  all  events  as  supreme  Lord  and 
Sovereign  ;  that  He  alone  determines  the  fate  of 
kings  and  the  duration  of  empires;  and  that  he 
transfers  the  government  of  kingdoms  from  one  na- 
tion to  another3  because  of  the  unrighteous  dealings 
and  wickedness  committed  therein. 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  if  we  God  took  a  raora 
compare  the  attentive,  beneficent,  immediate  care 
and  evident  manner  in  which  the  Al-  of  his  own  pe« 
mighty  presided  anciently  over  his  P'e- 
people,  with  that  which  appeared  in  his  governing 
all  other  nations  of  the  earth,  one  would  be  apt  to 
conclude,  that  the  latter  were  foreign  and  indifferent 
to  him.  God  looked  upon  the  holy  nation  as  his 
own  domain  and  inheritance;  he  resided  in  the 
midst  of  it,  like  a  master  in  his  house,  and  as  a  father 
in  his  family.  Israel  was  his  son,  his  first-born.  He 
had  made  it  his  delight  to  form  him  from  his  infancy. 
and  to  instruct  him  in  person.  He  imparted  himself 
to  him  by  his  oracles;  appointed  miraculous  men  to 
be  his  governors;  and  displayed  the  amazing  won- 
ders of  his  power  in  his  protection.  Who  could 
forbear,  at  the  sight  of  so  many  glorious  privileges 

j  to  cry  aloud  with   the  prophet,  "Judah  is  his  sanc- 
tuary, ai   1   Israel  his  dominion,"  *  Solummodo   ibi 
magnificus  est  Dominus  noster.     Nevertheless  this 
God,  although  forgot  bv  the  nations, 
and  seemingly  forgettfng  them,  al-  «< 

ways  retained  and  exercised   his  su- 
preme    power    over    them,    which,  . 

!  though  concealed  behind   the  veil  of 

I  ordinary  events,  and  such  a  conduct   and   goverii- 

|  ment  as  was  merely  human,  was  not  therefore  leM 
real  or  divine;  "the  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  ful- 
ness thereof,'1  says  the  prophet,  "the  world  and  they 
that  dwell  thercm."8 

It  would  be  an  error  highly  injurious  to  the  Al- 
mighty, to  suppose  him  the  master  only  of  one  fam- 
ily, and  not  of  all  the  nations  of  the  world. 

•  Pietate  ac  religione,  atque  bar  -jna  «apienlii  quod  dec 
rum  immnrtalium  numineuninia  re»i  guliernarique  perspex 
imu«.   omnrt    geritct   nationetque  siiperaximut.      Oral,  it 
i  Arusp.  rtsp.  n.  19 

I      •  Ecclui.  x.  8.         «  Isa.  zxxiii.  91.         •  Tsal.  xxiii.  1. 

19 


g)(.ct  olher 


20 


PREFACE, 


He  presided  at  We  discover  this  important  truth 
the  dispersion  in  going  back  to  the  most  remote  an* 
ot"  men  alter  the  tiquity,  and  the  origin  of  profane 
fl*>d.  history ;  I  mean,  to  'he  dispersion  of 

the  posterity  of  JSoah  into  the  several  countries  of 
the  earth  where  they  settled.  Liberty,  chance, 
views  of  interest,  a  love  for  certain  countries,  and 
similar  motives,  were,  in  outward  appearance,  the 
onlv  causes  of  the  different  choice  which  men  made 
in  these  various  migrations.  But  the  Scriptures  in- 
form us,  that  amidst  the  trouble  and  confusion  that 
followed  the  sudden  change  in  the  language  of  JNo- 
ah's  descendants,  God  presided  invisibly  over  all 
their  councils  and  deliberations;  that  nothing-  was 
transacted  but  by  the  Almighty's  appointment;  and 
that  he  aloneguided  *  and  settled  all  mankind, agree- 
ably to  the  dictates  of  his  mercy  and  justice:  "The 
Lord  scattered  them  abroad  from  thence  upon  the 
face  of  all  the  earth."2  - 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  God,  even  in  those  early 
ages,  had  a  peculiar  regard  for  that  people,  whom 
he  was  one  day  to  consider  as  his  own.  He  pointed 
out  the  country  which  he  designed  for  them;  he 
caused  it  to  be  possessed  by  another  laborious  na- 
tion, who  applied  themselves  to  cultivate  and  adorn 
it;  and  to  improve  the  future  inheritance  of  the  Is- 
raelites. He  then  fixed,  in  that  country,  the  like 
number  of  families,  as  were  to  be  settled  in  it,  when 
the  sons  of  Israel  should,  at  the  appointed  time,  take 
possession  of  it;  and  did  not  sutler  any  of  the  na- 
tions, which  were  not  subject  to  the  curse  pro- 
nounced by  Noah  against  Canaan,  to  enter  upon  an 
inheritance  that  was  to  be  given  up  entirely  to  the 
Israelites.  Qiiando  dividtbat  JUtissirr^us  gentes, 
gunndo  separabat  filios  Adam,  tonstiiuit  terminot 
jiopulorum  juxta  numerumjiliorum  Israel.3  But  this 
peculiar  regard  of  God  to  his  future  people,  does 
not  interfere  with  that  which  he  had  for  the  rest  of 
the  nations  of  the  earth,  as  is  evident  from  the  many 
passages  of  Scripture,  which  teach  us,  that  the  en- 
tire succession  of  ages  is  present  to  Him;  that  no- 
thing is  transacted  in  the  whole  universe,  but  by 
His  appointment;  and  that  He  directs  the  several 
events  of  it  from  age  to  age.  Tu  es  Deus  conspec- 
tor  secuiorum.  A  seculo  usque  in  seculum  respicis.* 
We  must  therefore  consider,  as  an 
fcedal°hneefa?e  indictable  principle  and  as  the 
of  all  empires,  basis  and  foundation  of  the  study  ot 
both  with  res-  profane  history,  that  the  providence 
pect  to  his  own  of  the  Almighty  has,  from  all  eterni- 
people,  and^tbe  ty,  appointed  the  establishment,  du- 
reignof  hisSon.  ratiOn,and  destruction,  of  kingdoms 
and  empires,  as  well  in  regard  to  the  general  plan 
of  the  whole  universe,  known  only  to  God,  who  con- 
stitutes the  order  and  wonderful  harmony  of  its  sev- 
eral parts,  as  particularly  with  respect  to  the  people 
of  Israel,  and  still  more  with  regard  to  the  Messiah, 
and  the  establishment  of  the  Church,  which  is  his 
great  work,  the  end  and  design  of  all  his  other 
works,  and  ever  present  to  his  sight;  JVotum  u  se- 
culo tit  Domino  opus  suum.b 

God  has  vouchsafed  to  discover  to  us,  in  Holy 
Scripture,  a  part  of  the  relation  of  the  several  na- 
tions of  the  earth  to  his  own  people;  and  the  little 
go  discovered,  diffuses  great  light  over  the  history 
of  those  nations,  of  whom  we  shall  have  but  a  very 
imperfect  idea,  unless  we  have  recourse  to  the  m- 
tpired  writers.  They  alone  display,  and  bring  to 
tight,  the  secret  thoughts  of  pri.ices,  their  incoher- 
ent projects,  their  foolish  pride,  their  impious  and 
'cruel  ambition:  they  reveal  the  true  causes  and  hid- 


t  The  ancients  themselves,  according  to  Pindar,  (Olymp. 
Od.  vii.  had  retained  some  idea,  that  the  dispersion  of  men 
was  not  the  effect  of  chance,  but  that  they  had  been  settled 
jii  dittVrent  countries  by  the  appointment  of  Providence. 

*  <;.-...  xi.  8,  9. 

>  "When  the  Most  Hiirh  divided  to  the  nations  their  in 
leritance,  when  he  separated  the  sons  of  Adam,  he  set  the 
»undsot'lh*  people  according  to  the  number  of  the  children 
•f  Israel,"  ^whom  he  had  in  view.)  This  is  one  ol"  the  inter- 
notations  given  to  thi*  passage  V\de  Bp.  .Want's  BibU 
Teut.  xxxii.  8. 

•  Jic«.-i«.  XXIYI   17.  xxxu.  19  •  Acu  xv.  18. 


den  springs  of  victor  es  and  overthrow  j;  of  the 
grandeur  and  declens.on  of  nations;  the  rise  and 
ruin  of  states;  and  teach  us,  what  indeed  is  the 
principal  benefit  to  be  derived  from  history,  the 
judgment  which  the  Almighty  forms  both  of  prince* 
and  empires,  and  consequently  what  idea  ve  our 
selves  ought  to  entertain  of  them. 

IS'ot  to  mention  Kgvpt,  that  served 
at  first  as  the  cradle  (if  I  may  be  al-    Poworfu.  kings 
i  i    AI_  •       \       i?     r       i_    i        appointed        to 

lowed  the  expression)  ot    the  holy      ''nisK  or  pro. 

nation;  and   which  afterward  was  a    tecl  Isrne) 
severe  prison,  and  a  fiery  furnace  to 
it;*  and,  at  last,  the  scene  of  the  most  astonishing 
miracles  that  God  ever  wrought  in  favor  <  f  Israel . 
not  to  mention,  I  say,  Egypt,  the  might}  empires 
of  Aineveh  and  Babvlon  furnish  a  thousand  proofs 
of  the  truth  here  advanced. 

Their  most  powerful  monarchs,  Tiglath-Pileser 
Shalmaneser,  Sennacherib,  Nebuchadnezzar,  and 
many  more,  were,  in  God's  hand,  as  so  many  instru 
nients,  which  he  employed  to  punish  the  transgres- 
sions of  his  people.  "He  lilted  up  an  ensign  to  the 
nations  from  far,  and  hissed  unto  them  from  the  end 
of  the  earth,  to  come  and  receive  his  orders."  7  He 
himself  put  the  sword  into  their  hands,  and  appoint- 
ted  their  marches  daily.  He  breathed  courage  and 
ardor  into  their  soldiers;  made  their  armies  inde- 
fatigable in  labor,  and  invincible  in  battle;  and 
spread  terror  and  consternation  wherever  they  di- 
rected their  steps. 

The  rapidity  cf  their  conquests  ought  to  have 
enabled  them  to  discern  the  invisible  hand  which 
conducted  them.  But,  says  one  of  these  kings8  in 
the  name  of  the  rest,  "By  the  strength  of  my  hand 
I  have  done  it,  and  by  my  wisdom ;  for  I  am  pru 
dent:  and  I  have  removed  the  bounds  of  the  people, 
and  have  robbed  their  treasures,  and  I  have  put 
down  the  inhabitants  like  a  valiant  man.  And  my 
hand  hath  found  as  a  nest  the  riches  of  the  people, 
and  as  one  gathereth  eggs  that  are  left,  have  I  gath- 
ered all  the  earth;  and  there  was  none  that  moved 
the  wing,  or  opened  the  mouth,  or  peepea."9 

But  this  monarch,  so  august  and  wise  in  his  own 
eye,  how  did  he  appear  in  that  of  the  Almightyt 
Only  as  a  subaltern  agent,  a  servant  sent  by  his  mas 
ter:  "The  rod  of  his  anger,  and  the  staff  in  his 
hand.''10  God's  design  was  to  chastise,  not  to  ex- 
tirpate, his  children.  But  Sennacherib  "had  it  in 
his  heart  to  destroy  and  cut  ot!  all  nations."  "  What 
then  will  be  the  issue  of  this  kind  of  contest  between 
the  designs  of  God,  and  those  of  this  prince  ?  At  the 
time  that  he  fancied  himself  already  possessed  ot 
Jerusalem,  the  Lord,  with  a  single  blast,  disperses 
all  his  proud  hopes;  destroys,  in  one  night,  a  hun- 
dred four  score  and  five  thousand  of  his  forces;18 
and  putting  "a  hook  in  his  nose,  and  a  bric'.le  in  his 
lips,"  13  (as  though  he  had  been  a  wild  beast.)  he 
leads  him  back  to  his  own  dominions,  covered  with 
infamy,  through  the  midst  of  those  nations,  who, 
but  a'little  before,  had  beheld  him  in  all  his  prid* 
and  haughtiness. 

JVebuchadntziar,  king  of  Babylon,  appears  still 
more  visibly  governed  by  a  Providence,  to  which  \  <t 
himself  is  an   entire  stranger,  but  which   presioe* 
over  all  his  deliberations,  and  determines  all  b. 
actions. 

Beii>£  come  at  the  head  of  his  army  to  two  high- 
ways, the  one  of  which  led  to  Jerusalem,  and  the 
other  to  Rabbath.the  chief  city  of  the  Ammonites, 
this  king,  not  knowing  which  of  them  it  would  be 
best  for  him  to  strike  into,  debates  for  some  time 
with  himself,  and  at  last  casts  lots.  God  makes  the 
lot  fall  on  Jerusalem,  to  fulfil  the  menaces  he  had 


•  I  will  bring  you  ont  from  under  the  burdens  of  t>* 
Egyptians,  and  will  rid  you  out  of  their  bondage."  Exod.  n. 
6.  "Out  of  I  lie  iron  furnace, even  out  of  Egypt."  Deut.i».aQ 

i  Isa.  v.  -:W—  30.  x.  S^-34.  xiii.  4,  5.       '«  Sennacherib. 

»  l<a.  x  13.  14.     ««Isa.x.o.     ««  Ibid,  rer.7.     »»;b.vtr.l2. 

i>  "Because  thy  ra»e  against  me  and  thy  tumult  is  com* 
np  into  mine  ears,  therefore  I  will  put  mj  hook  in  thy  no*e, 
and  my  bridle  in  thy  lips,  and  I  will  turn  thec  hack  by  Ik* 
way  by  which  thou  earnest."  9,  Kings  six.  28. 


PREFACE. 


21 


pronounced  against  that  city,  viz.  to  destroy  it,  to 
burn  the  temple,  and  lead  its  inhabitants  into  cap- 
tivity.1 

One  would  imagine,  at  first  sight,  that  this  king 
had  been  prompted  to  besiege  Tyre,  merely  from  a 
political  view,  viz.  that  he  might  not  leave  behind 
him  so  powerful  and  well-fortified  a  city;  nevr-r'.lie- 
IPSS,  a  superior  will  had  decreed  the  siege  of  Tyre.2 
God  designed,  on  one  side,  to  humble  the  pride  of 
Ithobal  its  king,  who  fancying  himself  wiser  than 
Daniel,  whose  fame  was  spread  over  the  whole  east; 
and  ascribing  entirely  to  hi»  rare  and  uncommon 
prudence  the  extent  of  his  dominions,  and  the  great1 
ness  of  his  riches,  persuaded  himself  that  he  was 
"a  god,  and  sat  in  the  seat  of  Go  I."3  On  the  othe,r 
fide,  he  also  designed  to  chastixe  the  luxury,  the 
voluptuousness,  and  the  pride,  of  those  haughty 
merchants,  who  thought  themselves  kings  of  the  sea, 
and  sovereigns  over  crowned  heads;  and  especially. 
that  inhuman  joy  of  the  Tyrians,  who  looked  upon 
the  fall  of  Jerusalem  (the  rfval  of  Tyre)  as  their  own 
aggrandizement.  These  were  the  motives  which 
prompted  God  himself  to  lead  Nebuchadnezzar  to 
Tyre;  and  to  make  him  execute,  though  unknow- 
ingly, his  commands.  iDcmco  ecce  EGO  ADUUCAM 
+d  Tyrum  Nabuckodonosor. 

To*  recompense  this  monarch,  whose  army  the 
Almighty  had  caused  "to  serve  a  great  service 
against  Tyre"5  ("these  are  God's  own  words;)  and 
to  compensate  the  Babylonish  troops  for  the  griev- 
ous toils  they  had  sustained  during  thirteen  years' 
siege;  "I  will  give,"  saith  the  Lord  God,  "the  land 
of  Kgypt  unto  .Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon; 
and  he  shall  take  her  multitude,  and  take  her  spoil, 
and  take  her  prey,  and  it  shall  be  the  wages  for  his 
army. "8 

1  he  same  Nebuchadnezzar,'  eager  to  immortalize 
his  name  by  the  grandeur  of  his  exploits,  was  deter- 
mined to  heighten  the  glory  of  his  conquests  by  his 
splendour  and  magnificence,  in  embellishing  the 
capital  of  his  empire  with  pompous  edifices,  and  the 
most  sumptuous  ornaments.  But  whilst  a  set  of 
adulating  courtiers,  on  whom  he  lavished  the  high- 
est honors  and  immense  riches,  make  all  places  re- 
sound with  his  name,  an  august  senate  of  watchful 
spirits  is  formed,  who  weigh,  in  the  balance  of  truth, 
the  actions  of  kings,  and  pronounce  upon  them  a 
sentence  from  which  there  lies  no  appeal.  The  k\ny 
of  Babylon  is  cited  before  this  tribunal,  in  which 
there  presides  the  Supreme  Judge,  who,  to  a  vigi- 
lance  which  nothing  can  elude,  adds  a  holiness  that 
will  not  allow  of  the  least  irregularity.  Vigil  et 
tanctns.  In  this  tribunal  all  Nebuchadnezzar's  ac- 
tions, which  were  the  admiration  and  wonder  of  the 
public,  are  examined  with  rigor;  and  a  search  is 
made  into  the  inward  recesses  of  his  heart,  to  dis- 
cover his  most  hidden  thoughts.  How  .will  this  for- 
midable inquiry  end?  At  the  instant  that  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, walking  in  his  palace,  and  revolving, 
with  a  secret  com|>lacency,  his  exploits,  his  grand- 
eur, and  magnificence,  is  saying  to  himself,  "Is  not 
this  great  Babylon  that  I  built  for  the  house  of  the 
kingdom,  by  the  might  of  my  power,  and  for  the 
honor  ot  my  majesty?"8  in  this  very  instant,  when, 
by  vainly  flattering  "himself  that  he'held  his  power 
and  kingdom  from  himself  alone,  he  usurped  the 
•eat  of  the  Almighty;  a  voice  from  heaven  pro- 
nounces his  sentence,  and  declares  to  him,  that  "his 
kingdom  was  departed  from  him.  that  he  should  be 
driven  from  men,  and  his  dwelling  be  with  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  until  he  knew  that  the  Most  High  ruled 
in  the  kingdoms  of  men,  and  gave  them  to  whomso- 
ever he  would. "• 

This  tribunal,  which  is  for  ever  assembled,  though 
invisible  to  mortal  eyes,  pronounced  the  like  sen- 
tence on  those  famous  conquerors,  on  those  heroes 


•  Ezek.  xxi.  19—23.  »  Chap.  xxvi.  xxvii.  xxviii. 

•  Chap,  xxviii.  2. 

«  This  incident  IB  related  more  at  large  in  the  history  of 
Uie  iSeyptinns,  under  the  reign  of  Amasis. 

•  Ezi'K.  xxix.  18.  20.     t  Ibid.  ver.  lit.     *  Dan.  iv.  1—34. 

•  Dan.  iv.  30.  lUid.  ver.  31,  32. 


of  the  pagan  world,  who,  ike  Nebuchadnezzar,  con 
siclerea  themselves  as  the  sole  authors  of  their  ex- 
alted fortune;  as  independent  on  authority  ol  every 
kind,  and  as  not  holding  of  a  superior  power. 

As  God  appointed  some  princes  to  be  the  instru- 
ments of  his  vengeance,  he  made  others  the  dispeti*- 
ers  of  his  goodness.  He  ordained  Cyrus  to  be  the  de- 
liverer of  his  people;  and,  to  enable  him  to  support 
with  dignity  so  glorious  a  function,  he  endued  him 
with  all  the  qualities  which  constitute  the  grt-atett 
captains  and  princes:  and  caused  that  excellent 
education  to  be  given  him,  which  the  heathens  so 
much  admired,  though  they  neither  knew  the  Author 
nor  true  cause  of  it. 

We  see  in  profane  history  the  extent  and  sw»ft- 
ness  of  his  conquests,  the  intrepidity  of  his  courage, 
the  wisdom  of  his  views  and  designs;  his  greatnew 
of  soul,  his  noble  generosity;  his  truly  paternal  af- 
fection for  his  subjects;  and,  on  their  part,  the  grate- 
ful returns  of  love  and  tenderness,  which  made  them 
consider  him  rather  as  their  protector  and  father, 
than  as  their  lord  and  sovereign.  We  find,  1  say, 
all  these  particulars  in  profane  history;  but  we  Jo 
not  perceive  the  secret  principle  of  so  many  exalted 
qualities,  nor  the  hidden  spring  which  set  them  in 
motion. 

But  Isaiah  discloses  them,  and  delivers  hims* ./  in 
words  suitable  to  the  greatness  and  majesty  01  die 
God  who  inspired  him.  He10  represents  this  all- 
powerful  God  of  armies  as  leading  Cyrus  by  the 
hand,  marching  before  him,  conducting  him  from 
city  to  citv,  and  from  province  to  province;  "sub- 
duing nations  before  him,  loosing  the  loins  of  kings, 
breaking  in  pieces  gates  of  brass,  cutting  in  sunder 
the  bars  of  iron,"  throwing  down  the  walls  and  bul- 
warks of  cities,  and  putting  him  in  possession  "of 
the  treasures  of  darkness,  and  the  hidden  riches  ot 
•ecret  places." 

The  prophet  also  tells  us  the  cause  and  motive  of 
all  these  wonderful  events."  It  was  in  order  tc 
punish  Babylon,  and  to  deliver  Judah,  that  the  Al- 
mighty conducts  Cyrus,  step  by  step,  and  gives  suc- 
cess to  all  his  enterprises.  "I  have  raised  him  up 
in  righteousness,  and  I  willdirect  all  his  ways. — For 
Jacob  my  servant's  sake,  and  Israel  mine  elect."  u 
But  this  prince  is  so  blind  and  ungrateful,  that  he 
does  not  know  his  master,  nor  remember  his  bene- 
factor. "1  have  surnamed  thee,  though  thou  hast 
not  known  me. — I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hast  not 
known  me.1'  1S 

Men  seldom  form  to  themselves  a  A  fine  j,,,..,, 
right  judgment  of  true  glory,  and  the  <#  the  re?al  of. 
duties  essential  to  regal  power.  The  fice. 
Scripture  alone  gives  us  a  just  idea 
of  them, .and  this  it  does  in  a  wonderful  manner,  uu 
der  the  image  of  a  very  large  and  strong  tree,  whose 
top  reaches  to  heaven,  and  whose  branches  extend 
to  the  extremities  of  the  earth.1*  As  its  foliage  it 
very  abundant,  and  it  is  bowed  down  with  fruit,  it 
constitutes  the  ornament  and  felicity  of  the  plaint 
around  it.  It  supplies  a  grateful  shade,  and  a  secure 
retreat  to  beasts  of  every  kind:  animals,  both  wild 
and  tame,  are  safely  lodged  beneath  it,  the  birds  of 
heaven  dwell  in  its  branches,  and  it  supplies  food  to 
all  living  creatures. 

Can  there  be  a  more  just  or  more  instructive  idea 
of  the  kingly  office,  whose  true  grandeur  and  solid 
glory  does  not  consist  in  that  »r-li  ndor,  pomp,  and 
magnificence,  which  surround  it;  nor  in  that  reve- 
rence and  exterior  homage  which  art,  paid  to  it  by 
subjects,  and  which  are  justly  due  to  it;  but  in  the 


'«  "Thus  saith  the  Lord  to  his  anointed,  to  Cyrus,  whoca 
right  hand  I  have  holdin,  to  tubdue  nations  before  him ;  and 
I  will  loose  the  loins  of  kinge,  to  open  before  him  the  two- 
leuved  gate*,  and  the  gate*  shall  not  be  shut: 

"I  will  go  before  thee,  and  make  the  crooked  placui 
strain-lit :  will  break  in  pieces  the  gates  ot  brass,  and  cut  in 
sunder  the  bars  af  iron  : 

••And  I  will  give  thee  the  treasures  of  darkness,  and  hid- 
den riches  of  secret  place*  that  thou  mayust  know,  that  I 
the  Lord  which  call  t/ite  by  thy  name,  am  the  God  of  It 
rael."  Jsa.  xlv.  1—3.  «'  Isa.  xlv.  13,  14. 

«»  Chap.  xlv.  13, 14.    '«  Ibid.  yer.  4. 5     '«  Dan.iv.  10,  II, 


PREFACE. 


real  services  and  solid  advantages  it  procures  to 
nations,  whose  support,  defence,  security,  and  asy- 
lum, it  forms  (both  from  its  nature  and  institution, j 
at  the  same  time  that  it  is  the  fruitful  source  of 
blessings  of  every  kind;  especially  with  regard  to 
the  poor  and  weak,  who  ought  to  find,  beneath  the 
shade  and  protection  of  royalty,  a  sweet  peace  and 
tranquillity  not  to  be  interrupted  or  disturbed; 
whilst  the  monarch  himself  sacrifices  his  ease,  and 
experiences  alone  those  storms  and  tempests  from 
which  he  shelters  all  others? 

1  think  that  I  observe  this  noble  image,  and  the 
execution  of  this  great  plan  f  religion  only  excepted) 
realized  in  the  government  of  Cyrus,  of  which  Xeno- 
phon  has  given  us  a  picture,  in  his  beautiful  preface 
to  the  history  of  that  prince.  He  has  there  speci- 
fied a  great  number  of  nations,  which,  thougn  sepa- 
rate. I  from  each  other  by  vast  tracts  of  country,  and 
•till  more  widely  by  the  diversity  of  their  manners 
Customs,  and  language,  were  however  all  united,  by 
the  same  sentiments  of  esteem,  reverence,  and  love, 
for  a  prince,  whose  government  they  wished,  if  pos- 
sible, to  have  continued  forever, so  much  happiness 
and  tranquillity  did  they  enjoy  under  it.1 

.  To  this  amiable  and  salutary  gov- 

A  just  >f   eminent,  let  us  oppose  the  idea  which 

Ibe  conquerors     .,  ,        .  .'  r  ,  .. 

of  antiquity.  the  sarre(J  writings  give  us  of  those 
monarchs  and  conquerors  so  much 
boasted  by  antiquity,  who,  instead  of  making  the 
happiness  of  mankind  the  sole  object  of  their  care, 
were  prompted  by  no  other  motives  than  those  of 
interest  and  ambition.  The  Holy  Spirit  represents 
them  under  the  symbols  of  monsters  generated  from 
the  agitation  of  the  sea,  from  the  tumult,  confusion, 
and  dashing  of  the  waves  one  against  the  other;  and 
under  the  image  of  cruel  wild  beasts,  which  spread 
terror  and  desolation  universally,  an;l  are  for  ever 
gorging  themselves  with  blood  and  slaughter;  bears, 
uons,  tigers,  and  leopards.8  How  strong  and  ex- 
pressive is  this  coloring! 

Nevertheless,  it  is  often  from  such  destructive 
models,  that  the  rules  and  maxims  of  the  education 

fenerally  bestowed  on  the  children  of  the  great  are 
orrowed;  and  it  is  these  ravagers  of  nations,  these 
•courges  of  mankind,  they  propose  to  make  them 
resemble.  By  inspiring  them  with  the  sentiments 
of  a  boundless  ambition,  and  the  love  of  false  glory, 
they  become  (to  borrow  an  expression  from  Scrip- 
ture) "young  lions;  they  learn  to  catch  the  prey, 
and  devour  men — to  lay  waste  cities,  to  turn  lands 
and  their  fulness  into  desolation  by  the  noise  of  their 
roaring."3  And  when  this  young  lion  is  grown  up, 
God  tells  us,  that  the  noise  of  his  exploits,  and  the 
renown  of  his  victories,  are  nothing  but  a  frightful 
roaring,  whrch  lilU  all  places  with  terror  and  deso- 
lation. 

The  examples  I  have  hitherto  mentioned,  extract- 
ed from  the  history  of  the  Egyptians,  Assyrians, 
Babylonians,  and  1'ersians,  prove  sufficiently  the 
supreme  power  exercised  -toy  God  over  all  empires; 
and  the  relation  he  hag  thought  fit  to  establish  be- 
tween the  rest  of  -the  nations  of  the  earth  and  his 
own  peculiar  people.  The  same  truth  appears  as 
conspicuously  under  the  kings  of  Sy-ria  and  Egypt, 
successors  of  Alexander  the  Great;  between  whose 
history,  and  that  of  the  Jews  under  the  Maccabees, 
every  body  knows  the  close  connexion. 

To  these  incidents  I  cannot  forbear  adding  an- 
other, which,  though  universally  known,  is  not 
therefore  the  less  remarkable;  I  mean  the  taking  of 
Jerusalem  by  Titus.  When  he  had  entered  that 
city,  and  viewed  all  the  fortifications  of  it,  this 
prince,  though  a  heathen,  owned  the  all-powerful 
arm  of  the  God  of  Israel;  and,  in  a  rapture  of  ad- 
miration, cried  out,  "It  is  manifest  that  the  Almighty 
has  fought  for  us, and  has  driven  the  Jews  from  those 
towers;  since  neither  the  utmost  human  force,  nor 
that  of  all  the  engines  in  the  world,  could  have  ef- 
fected it."4 


I  'EJwrnii  uriiv/ii»r  l/tS*Knr  T«r«»Ti|»  T»v  wnrrmf  IVT 
»fi 'i«-3».,  .r-ri  an  r^  av-rov  >f/u>!  •giev  *voif**rixi. 
•  Dun  rii  •  Ezek.  xix.  a  7.  «  Jo*eph.  .iii  c.  40. 


Besides   the  visible   and   sensible    God  ha«n,wsy* 

nnexion  ot  sacred  and  protane  his-  Disposed  ol 
torv,  there  is  another  more  secret  human  erents, 
and  more  distinct  relation  with  re-  with  relation  t« 
spect  to  the  Messiah,  for  whose  com-  tne  '»'?"  of  tJw 
ing  the  Almighty,  whose  work  was  "•"**• 
ever  present  to  his  sight,  prepared  mankind  from 
far,  even  by  the  Mate  ot  ignorance  and  dissoluteness 
in  which  he  suffered  them  to  be  immersed  (iuniig 
four  thousand  years.  It  was  to  make  mankin  I  sensi- 
ble of  the  necessity  of  our  having  a  Mediator,  that 
God  permitted  the  nations  to  walk  after  thfir  ow« 
ways;  while  neither  the  light  of  reason,  nor  il  e  dic- 
tates of  philosophy,  could  dispel  the  clouds  of  error, 
or  reform  their  depraved  inclinations. 

When  we  take  a  view  of  the  grandeur  of  empire*, 
the  majesty  of  princes,  the  glorious  action}  of  grea* 
men,  the  order  of  civil  societies,  and  the  harmonj 
of  the  different  members  of  which  they  are  com- 
posed, the  wisdom  of  legislators,  and  the  learning 
of  philosophers,  the  earth  seems  to  exhibit  nothing 
to  the  eye  of  man  but  what  is  great  and  resplendent; 
nevertheless,  in  the  eve  of  God  it  was  equally  barren 
and  uncultivated,  as  at  the  first  instant  of  the  crea- 
tion. "The  earth  wa«  without  form  and  void."* 
This  is  saying  but  little;  it  was  wholly  polluted  and 
impure  (the  reader  will  observe  that  I  speak  here 
of  the  heathens.)  and  appeared,  to  God,  only  as  the 
haunt  and  retreat  of  ungrateful  and  perfidious  men, 
as  it  did  at  the  time  of  the  Hood.  "The  earth  was 
corrupt  before  God, and  was  filled  with  violence."* 

IVevertheless,  the  Sovereign  Arbiter  of  the  mil 
verse,  who,  pursuant  to  the  dictates  of  his  wisdom 
dispenses  both  light  and  darkness,  and  knows  how 
to  check  the  impetuous  torrent  of  human  passions 
would  not  permit  mankind, though  abandoned  to  the 
utmost  corruptions,  to  degenerate  into  absolute  bar- 
barity, and  brutalize  themselves,  in  a  manner,  by  the 
extinction  of  the  first  principles  ot  the  law  of  nature, 
as  is  seen  in  several  savage  nations.  Such  an  obstacle 
would  have  too  much  retarded  the  rapid  progrtss, 
promised  by  him  to  the  first  preachers  ot  tiie  doctrine 
of  his  Son." 

He  darted  from  far,  into  the  minds  of  men,  the 
rays  of  several  great  truths,  to  dispose  them  for  the 
reception  of  others  more  important.  He  prepared 
them  for  the  instructions  of  the  gospel,  by  those  of 
philosophers;  and  it  was  with  this  view  that  God 
permitted  the  heathen  professors  to  examine,  in  their 
schools, several  questions,  and  establish  several  prin- 
ciples, which  are  nearly  allied  to  religion:  and  to 
engage  the  attention  of  mankind,  by  the  brilliancy 
of  their  disputations.  It  is  well  known,  tlr.it  the 
philosophers  inculcate  in  every  part  ot  their  writings 
the  existence  of  a  God,  the  necessity  of  a  Provi- 
dence that  presides  over  the  government  of  the 
world,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  ultimate  end 
of  man,  the  reward  of  the  good  and  punishment  of 
the  wicked,  the  nature  of  those  duties  which  con- 
stitute the  band  of  society,  the  character  of  the  vir 
tues  that  are  the  basis  of  morality,  as  prudence, 
justice,  fortitude,  temperance,  and  other  similar 
truths,  which,  though  incapable  of  guiding  men  to 
righteousness,  were  yet  of  use  to  scatter  certain 
clouds,  and  to  dispel  certain  obscurities. 

It  is  by  an  effect  of  the  same  providence,  which 
prepared,  from  far,  the  ways  ot  the  gospel,  that, 
when  the  Messiah  revealed  himself  in  the  Mesh  God 
had  united  together  almost  all  nations,  by  the  Grtek 
and  Latin  tongues;  and  had  subjected  to  one  mo- 
narch, from  the  ocean  to  the  Euphrates,  all  the  peo- 
ple not  united  by  language,  in  order  to  give  a  more 
free  course  to  the  preaching  of  the  apostles.  Th« 
studv  of  profane  history,  when  entered  upon  with 
judgment  and  maturity,  must  lead  us  to  these  re- 
flections,  and  point  out  to  us  the  manner  in  which 
the  Almighty  makes  the  empires  of  the  earth  sub- 
servient to  the  establishment  of  the  kingdom  of  his 
Son. 

It  ought  likewise  to  teach  us  hr  w  to  appreciate  til 
that  glitters  most  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  and  is 


•  Gen.  i.  2. 


•  Ibid.  vi.  11. 


PREFACE 


.  most  capable  of  dazzling  it.    Valour, 

Erut.ortalems    f  rtitllde    skill  in  government,  pro- 
kiduljed  to  the     ,.  '.. 

heathen*.  found    policy,  merit    in    magistracy 

capacity  for  the  most   abstruse  sci- 
ences, beauty  of  genius,  delicacy  of  taste,  and  per- 
fection in  alf  arts:  these  are  the  objects  which  pro- 
fane history  exhibits  to  us,  which   excite  our  admi- 
ation,  and  often  our  envy.     But  at   the  same  time 
this  very  history  ought  to  remind  us,  that  the  Al-  j 
mighty,  ever  sinco  the  creation,  has  indulged  to  his 
enemies  all  those  shining  qualities  which  the  world 
esteems,  and  on  which  it  frequently  bestows  the 
highest  eulogiums;  while,  on  the  contrary,  he  often 
refuses  them  to  his  most  faithful  servants,  whom  he  i 
endues  with  talents  of  an  infinitely  superior  nature,  I 
though  men  neither  know  their  value,  nor  are  de-  j 
sirous  of  them.     "  Happy  is  that  people  that  is  in 
such  a  case:  yea,  happy  is  that  people,  whose  God 
is  the  Lord."1 

I  shall  conclude  this  first  part  of 
We  most  not  be  preface  with   a  reflection  which 

£«£h±.!f    «««"•  naturally  from  what  has  been 
them.  said.      Since   it    is  certain,   that  all 

these  great  men,  who  are  so  much 
boasted  of  in  profane  history,  were  so  unhappy  as 
not  to  know  the  true  God,  »p<3  to  displease  him;  we 
should  therefore  be  caution*  and  circumspect  in  the 
praises  which  we  bestow  upon  them.  St.  Austin, 
in  his  Retractions,  repents  his  having  lavished  so 
many  encomiums  on  Plato,  and  the  followers  of  his 
philosophy;  because  these,  says  he,  were  impious 
men,  whose  doctrine,  in  many  points,  was  contrary 
to  that  of  Jesus  Christ.* 

However,  we  are  not  to  imagine,  that  St.  Austin 
supposes  it  to  be  unlawful  for  us  to  admire  and 
praise  whatever  is  either  beautiful  in  the  actions,  or 
true  in  the  maxims,  of  the  heathens.  He  only  ad- 
vises us  to  correct  whatever  is  erroneous,  and  to 
approve  whatever  is  conformable  to  rectitude  and 
justice  in  them.3  He  applauds  the  Romans  on 
many  occasions,  and  particularly  in  his  book  De  Ci- 
vitaie  Dei,4  which  is  one  of  the  last  and  finest  of  his 
works.  He  there  shows,  that  the  Almighty  raised 
them  to  be  victorious  over  nations,  and  sovereigns 
Df  a  great  part  of  the  earth,  because  of  the  gentle- 
ness and  equity  of  their  government  (alluding  to  the 
happy  ages  ot  the  Republic;)  thus  bestowing  on 
virtues  that  were  merely  human,  rewards  of  the 
tame  kind,  with  which  that  people,  blind  on  this 
subject,  though  so  enlightened  on  others,  v/ere  so 
unhappy  as  to  content  themselves.  St.  Austin  there- 
fore does  not  condemn  the  encomiums  which  are 
bestowed  on  the  heathens  but  only  the  excess  of 
tlit- 111. 

Students  ought  to  take  care,  and  especially  we, 
who  by  the  duties  of  our  profession  are  obliged  to 
be  perpetually  conversant  with  heathen  authors,  not 
to  enter  too  tar  into  the  spirit  of  them;  not  to  im- 
bibe, un perceived,  their  sentiments,  by  lavishing  too 
great  applauses  on  their  heroes;  nor  to  give  into 
excesses  which  the  heathens  indeed  did  not  consider 
as  such,  because  they  were  not  acquainted  with  vir- 
tues ot  a  purer  kind.  Some  persons,  whose  friend- 
ship I  esteem  as  I  ought,  and  for  whose  learning  and 
judgment  I  have  the  highest  regard,  have  found  this 
delect  in  some  part*  of  my  work,  on  the  Method  of 
teaching  and  studying  the  Belle*  Lettres,  &.C. ;  and 
are  of  opinion,  that  1  have  gone  too  great  lengths 
in  the  encomiums  which  I  bestow  on  the  illustrious 
men  of  paganism.  I  indeed  own,  that  the  expres- 
sions on  those  occasions  are  sometimes  too  strong 
And  too  unguarded:  however,  I  imagined  that  I  had 
supplied  a  proper  corrective  to  this,  by  the  hints 


i  Pnal.  cxtiv.  15. 

•  L.IUS  ipsa,  qua  I'latonem  vel  Platonicoe  teu  Academico* 
philofophog    tantum  extuli,  quantum    impio*  homine*   nun 
o|iurtuit,  non   imtm-r  to  inihi  displic'uil ;  presertim  quorum 
contra  errores  magnos  defendencla  eat  Christiana  doctriua. 
attract.  1.  i.  c.  1. 

•  Id  in  quoque  corrigendum,  quod  prnvum  eat;  quod  nu- 
tem  rectum  est,  approbandum.     De  Bapt.  ctmt,  Deiutt.  1. 
»ii.  r,.  10. 

•  Lib.  v.  cap.  19.  21.  &:<-. 


which  I  have  interspersed  in  those  four  volumes, 
and,  therefore,  that  it  would  be  only  losing  time  to 
repeat  them:  not  to  mention  my  having  laid  down. 
in  different  places,  the  principles  which  the  fathers 
of  the  church  establish  on  this  head,  declaring,  with 
St.  Austin,  that  without  true  piety,  that  is,  without 
a  sincere  worship  of  the  true  God,  there  can  be  no 
true  virtue;  and  that  no  virtue  can  be  suchj  whose 
object  is  worldly  glory;  a  truth,  says  this'father, 
acknowledged  universally  bv  those  who  are  inspired 
with  real  and  solid  piety.  lllnJ  constat  inter  omnti 
veraciter  pios,  neminem  sine  verd  pietate,  id  est,  rm 
Dei  vero  cultu,  veram  posse  habere  virtutem;  nee 
earn  veram  esse,  qnando  gloriae  servit  humance.* 

When  I  observed  that  Perseus  had  not  resolution 
enough  to  kill  himself,  I  do  not  thereby  pretend  to 
justify  the  practice  of  the  heathens,  who  looked  up- 
on suicide  as  lawful;  but  simply  to  relate  an  inci- 
dent, and  the  judgment  which  Paulus  .Emilius  pass 
ed  on  it.  Had  I  barely  hinted  a  word  or  two  against 
that  custom,  it  would  have  obviated  all  mistake 
and  left  no  room  for  censure. 

The  ostracism,  employed  in  Athens  against  per- 
sons of  the  greatest  merit;  theft  connived  at,  as  it 
appears,  by  Lycurgus  in  Sparta;  an  equality  of  goods 
established  in  the  same  city,  by  the  authority  of  the 
state,  and  things  of  a  like  nature,  may  admit  of 
some  difficulty.  However,  I  shall  pay  a  more  im- 
mediate attention  to  these  particulars,  when  the 
course  of  the  history  brings  me  to  them;  and  shall 
avail  myself  with  pleasure  of  such  lights  as  the 
learned  and  unprejudiced  may  favox  me  by  commu- 
nicating.' 

In  a  work  like  that  I  now  offer  the  public,  intend 
ed  more  immediately  for  the  instruction  of  youth 
it  were  heartily  to  be  wished,  that  not  one  single 
thought  or  expression  might  occur,  that  could  con- 
tribute to  inculcate  false  or  dangerous  principles. 
When  I  first  set  about  writing  the  present  history, 
I  proposed  this  for  my  maxim,  the  importance  of 
which  I  perfectly  conceive,  but  am  far  from  imagin- 
ing that  I  have  always  observed  it,  though  it  was 
my  intention  to  do  so;  and  therefore  on  this,  as  on 
many  other  occasions,  I  shall  stand  in  need  of  the 
reader's  indulgence. 

SECTION  II. 
Particular  observation*  on  the  following  Work. 

THE  volume  1  here  present  the  public,  is  the  be 
ginning  of  a  work,  in  which  I  propose  to  give  thu 
ancient  history  of  the  Egyptians,  Carthaginians, 
Assyrians,  both^  of  Nineveh  and  Babylon;  together 
with  that  of  the  Medes,  Persians.  Macedonians,  and 
the  different  states  of  Greece. 

As  I  write  principally  for  young  persons,  and  for 
those  who  do  not  intend  to  make  very  deep  research- 
es into  ancient  history,  I  shall  not  burden  this  work 
with  a  sort  of  erudition,  that  might  have  been  na- 
turally introduced  into  it,  but  does  not  suit  my  pur- 
pose. My  design  is,  in  giving  a  continued  series  of 
ancient  history,  to  extract  from  the  Greek  and  Latia 
authors  all  that  I  shall  judge  most  us<  ful  and  enter- 
taining with  respect  to  the  transactions,  and  most 
instructive  with  regard  to  the  reflections. 

I  should  wish  to  be  able  to  avoid,  at  the  same 
time,  the  dry  sterility  of  epitomes,  which  convey 
no  distinct  idea  to  the  mind;  and  the  tedious  accu- 
racy of  long  histories,  which  tire  the  reader's  pa- 
tience. I  am. sensible  that  it  is  difficult  to  steer  ex- 
actly between  the  two  extremes;  and  although,  in 
the  two  parts  of  history  of  which  this  first  volume 
consists,  I  have  retrenched  a  great  part  of  what  we 
meet  with  in  ancient  authors,  they  may  still  be 
thought  too  long:  but  I  was  afraid  of  spoiling  the 
incidents,  by  being  too  studious  of  brevity.  How- 
ever, the  taste  of  the  public  shall  be  my  guide,  to 
which  I  shall  endeavor  to  conform  hereafter. 

I  was  so  happy  as  not  to  displease  the  public  n 


i  D*  Civitate  Dei,  lib.  T.  c.  19. 

•  Thin  Mr.  Rollin  has  done  admirably  ii    the  revert.  *ti- 
ume.  of  hit  Ancient  Hintor r- 


24 


PREFACE. 


P 
d 


my  first  attempt.1  I  wish  the  present  work  maybe 
equally  successful,  but  dare  not  raise  my  hopes  so 
high.  The  subjects  I  there  treated,  viz.  polite  lite- 
rature, poetry,  eloquence,  and  curious  and  detached 
'ieces  of  history,  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  intro- 
ucing  into  it  irom  ancient  and  modern  authors, 
whatever  is  most  beautiful,  affecting,  delicate,  and 
iust,  with  regard  both  to  thought  and  expression. 
The  btauty  and  justness  of  the  things  themselves 
wh'ch  I  offered  the  reader,  made  him  more  indulgent 
to  the  manner  in  which  they  were  presented  to  him; 
and  besides,  the  variety  of  the  subjects  supplied  the 
want  of  those  graces  which  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  the  style  and  composition. 

But  I  have  not  the  same  advantage  in  the  present 
work,  the  choice  of  the  subjects  not  being  entirely 
at  my  discretion.  In  a  connected  history,  an  author 
is  often  obliged  to  relate  a  great  many  things  that 
are  not  always  very  interesting,  especially  with  re- 
gard to  the  origin  and  rise  ot  empires;  and  these 
parts  are  generally  overrun  with  thorns,  and  offer 
very  few  (lowers.  However,  the  sequel  will  furnish 
matter  of  a  more  pleasing  nature,  and  events  that 
engage  more  strongly  the  reader's  attention;  and  I 
thall  take  care  to  make  use  of  the  valuable  materi- 
als which  the  best  authors  will  supply.  In  the  mean 
time,  I  must  entreat  the  reader  to  remember  that 
in  a  wide,  extended,  and  beautiful  region,  the  eye 
does  not  every  where  meet  with  golden  harvests, 
smiling  meads,  and  fruitful  orchards;  but  sees,  at 
different  intervals,  wild  and  less  cultivated  tracts  of 
land.  And,  to  use  another  comparison,  furnished 
by  Pliny,  some  trees  in  the  spring  emulously  shoot 
forth  a  numberless  multitude  of  blossoms,  which  by 
this  rich  dress  (the  splendor  and  vivacity  of  whose 
colors  charm  the  eye)  proclaim  a  happy  abundance 
in  a  more  advanced  season;2  while  ot«cr  trees,  of  d 
less  gay  appearance,  though  they  bear  good  «  uits, 
have  not  however  the  fragrance  and  beauty  ol  Mos- 
soms,  nor  seem  to  share  in  the  joy  of  reviving  na- 
ture.3 The  reader  will  easily  apply  this  image  to 
the  composition  of  history. 

To  adorn  and  enrich  my  own,  I  will  be  so  ir.geri- 
uotis  as  to  confess,  that  I  do  not  scruple,  nor  am 
ashamed,  to  rifle  from  all  quarters,  and  that  I  often 
do  not  cite  the  authors  from  whom  I  transcribe,  be- 
cause of  the  liberty  I  occasionally  take  to  make 
tome  slight  alterations.  I  have  made  the  best  use 
in  my  power  of  the  solid  reflections  that  occur  in 
the  second  and  third  parts  of  the  Bishop  of  Meaux's 
Universal  History,4  which  is  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  most  useful  books  in  our  language.  I  have 
also  received  great  assistance  from  the  learned  Dean 
Prideaux's  Connexion  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment, in  which  he  has  traced  and  cleared  up,  in  an 
admirable  manner,  the  particulars  relating  to  ancient 
history.  I  shall  take  the  same  liberty  with  what- 
ever comes  in  my  way,  that  may  suit  my  design, 
and  contribute  to  the  perfection  of  my  work. 

I  am  very  sensible,  that  it  is  not  so  much  for  a 
person's  reputation,  thus  to  make  use  of  other  men's 
tabors,  and  that  it  is  in  a  manner  renouncing  the 
name  and  quality  of  author.  But  I  am  not  over  fond 
of  that  title;  and  shall  be  extremely  well  pleased, 
and  think  myself  very  happy,  if  I  can  but  deserve 
the  name  of  a  good  compiler,  and  supply  my  readers 
with  a  tolerable  history;  who  will  not  be  over  soli- 
•sitous  to  inquire  whether  it  be  an  original  composi- 
tion of  my  own  or  not,  provided  they  are  but  pleased 
with  it. 

I  cannot  determine  the  exact  number  of  volumes 
which  this  work  will  make;  but  am  persuaded  there 


i  The  Method  of  teaching  and  studying  the  Belles  Let- 
tre«,  &c. 

*  Arborum  flog  est  pleni  veris  indicium,  et  anni  renascon- 
tis;  HIM  gauiliam  arborum.     Time  «e  novas,  aliagque  quam 
tunt,  oKlemiunt,  tune  variin  colorum  picturis  in  ccrtamen 
•s'lu'e  luxuriant.     Sed   hoc  negalum   plerisque.     Non  cnim 
omnra  florent,  ;t  sunt  tristen  quaedam,  quarque  non  scntiunt 
guudia  aunorum;  nee  ullo  flore  exhiiarantur,  natalvsve  po- 
ninr inn  recursua  annuos  veriicolori  ountio  promittunt.    Piin. 
Hut  Jfat.  I.  Ixvi.  c.  25. 

•  *s  Uie  fig-tr»-«.  *  Mom.  BossueL 


will  be  no  ess  than  ten  or  twelve.  Studen's  with 
n  very  moderate  application,  may  easily  go  tbiough 
this  course  of  history  in  a  year,  without  interrupt 
ing  their  other  studies.  According  to  my  plan.mv 
work  should  be  given  to  the  highest  form  but  one 
Youths  in  this  class  are  capable  of  pleasure  and  im 
provement  from  this  history;  and  I  would  not  har* 
them  enter  upon  that  of  the  Romans  till  they  studt 
rhetoric. 

It  would  have  been  useful,  and  even  necessary,  to 
have  given  some  idea  of  the  ancient  authors  from 
whence  I  have  extracted  *he  facts  which  I  here  re- 
late. But  the  course  itseif  of  the  history  will  na- 
turally give  me  an  opportunity  of  mentioning  them. 

In  the  mean  time,  it  may  not  be  _,  . 
improper  to  take  notice  of  the  super-  ™e  .Moment 
stitious  credulity  with  which  most  j-orm  Of  t|,e  atl. 
of  these  authors  are  reproached,  on  gurics,  p-od»- 
the  subjects  of  auguries,  auspices,  gies,  and  or>- 
prodigies,  dreams,  and  oracles.  And,  cles,  of  il:-,  an- 
indeed,  we  are  shocked  to  see  writers,  cients. 
so  judicious  in  all  other  respects,  lay  it  down  as  a 
kind  of  law,  to  relate  these  particulars  with  a  scru- 
pulous accuracy;  and  to  dwell  gravely  on  a  tedious 
detail  of  trifling  and  ridiculous  ceremonies,  such  as 
the  flight  of  birds  to  the  right  or  left  hand,  signs 
discovered  in  the  smoking  entrails  of  beasts,  the 
greater  or  less  greediness  of  chickens  in  pecking 
corn,  and  a  thousand  similar  absurdities. 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  a  sensible  reader  can- 
not, without  astonishment,  see  persons  among  the 
ancients  in  the  highest  repute  for  wisdom  and 
knowledge;  generals  who  were  the  least  liable  to 
be  influenced  by  popular  opinions,  and  most  sensible 
how  necessary  it  is  to  take  advantage  of  auspicious 
moments;  the  wisest  councils  of  princes  perfectly 
well  skilled  in  the  arts  of  government;  the  most  au- 
gust assemblies  of  grave  senators:  in  a  word,  the 
most  powerful  and  most  learned  nations  in  all  ages: 
to  see,  I  sav,  all  these  so  unaccountably  weak,  as  to 
make  to  depend  on  these  trifling  practices,  and  ab 
surd  observances,  the  decision  ofthe  greatest  affairs 
*uch  as  the  declaring  of  war,  the  giving  battle,  or 
pursuing  a  victory — deliberations  that  were  of  the 
utmost  importance,  and  on  which  the  fate  and  wel- 
fare of  kingdoms  frequently  depended. 

But,  at  the  same  time,  we  must  be  so  just  as  to 
own.  that  their  manners,  customs,  and  laws,  would 
not  permit  men,  in  these  ages,  to  dispense  with  the 
observation  of  these  practices:  that  education,  he- 
reditary tradition  transmitted  from  immemorial 
time,  the  universal  belief  and  consent  of  diflerept 
nations,  the  precepts,  and  even  examples  of  philoso- 
phers; that  all  these,  I  say,  made  the  practices  in 
question  appear  venerable  in  their  eyes;  and  that 
these  ceremonies,  how  absurd  soever  they  may  ap- 
pear to  us,  and  are  really  so  in  themselves,  consti 
tuied  part  ofthe  religion  and  public  worship  ofthe 
ancients. 

This  religion  was  false,  and  this  worship  mistaken ; 
yet  the  principle  of  it  was  laudable,  and  founded  in 
nature:  the  stream  was  corrupted,  but  the  fountain 
was  pure.  Man  assisted  only  by  his  own  light,  sees 
nothing  beyond  the  present  moment.  Futurity  is  to 
him  an  abyss  invisible  to  the  most  keen,  the  most 
piercing  sagacity,  and  exhibits  nothing  on  which  h« 
may  with  certainty  fix  his  views,  or  lorm  his  reso- 
lutions. He  is  equally  feeble  and  impotent  with 
regard  to  the  execution  of  his  designs.  He  is  sensi- 
ble, that  he  is  dependent  entirely  on  a  Supreme 
Power,  that  disposes  all  events  with  absolute  au- 
thority, and  which,  in  spite  of  his  utmost  efforts, 
and  of  the  wisdom  of  the  best  concerted  schemes, 
by  raising  only  the  smallest  obstacles  and  slightest 
disappointments,  renders  it  impossible  for  him  to 
execute  his  measures. 

This  obscurity  and  weakness  oblige  him  to  have 
recourse  to  a  superior  knowledge  and  power:  he  is 
forced,  both  by  his  in  mediate  wants,  and  the  strong 
desire  he  has  to  succeed  in  all  his  undertakings,  to 
address  that  Being  who  he  is  sensible  has  reserved 
to  himself  alone  the  knowledgt  of  futurity,  and  th« 
power o-f  disposing  it  as  he  sees  fitting.  He  accord 


PREFACE. 


ingly  directs  prayers,  makes  vows,  and  offers  sacri- 
fices to  prevail,  if  possible,  with  the  Deity,  to  reveal 
hui.M  If,  either  in  dreams,  in  oracles,  or  other  signs 
which  may  manifest  his  will;  fully  convinced  that 
nothing'  can  happen  but  by  the  divine  appointment; 
and  that  it  is  a  man's  greatest  interest  to  know 
this  supreme  will,  in  order  to  conform  his  actions 
to  it. 

This  religious  principle  of  dependence  on,  and 
rent-ration  ot,  the  Supreme  Being,  is  natural  to  man : 
it  is  imprinted  deep  in  his  heart;  he  is  reminded  of 
it,  by  the  inward  sense  of  his  extreme  indigence, 
and  by  all  the  objects  which  surround  him;  and  it 
nay  b?  affirmed,  that  this  perpetual  recourse  to  the 
Deity  is  one  of  the  principal  foundations  of  religion, 
•nd  the  strongest  band  by  which  man  is  united  to 
his  Creator. 

Those  who  were  so  happy  as  to  know  the  true 
God,  and  were  chosen  to  be  his  peculiar  people, 
never  failed  to  address  him  in  all  their  wants  and 
doubts,  in  order  to  obtain  his  succor,  and  to  know 
his  will.  He  accordingly  vouchsafed  to  reveal  him- 
self to  them;  to  conduct  them  by  apparitions, 
dreams,  oracles,  and  prophecies;  and  to  protect 
them  by  miracles  of  the  most  astonishing  kind. 

But  those  who  were  so  blind  as  to  substitute  false- 
hood in  the  place  of  truth,  directed  themselves,  for 
the  like  aid,  to  fictitious  and  deceitful  deities,  who 
were  not  able  to  answer  their  expectations,  nor  re- 
compense the  homage  that  mortals  paid  them,  any 
otherwise  than  by  error  and  illusion,  and  a  fraudu- 
lent imitation  of  the  conduct  of  the  true  God. 

Hence  arose  the  vain  observation  of  dreams, 
which,  from  a  superstitious  credulity,  they  mistook 
for  salutary  warnings  from  heaven;  those  obscure 
and  equivocal  answers  of  oracles,  beneath  whose 
Teil  the  spirits  of  darkness  conceal  their  ignorance; 
and,  by  a  studied  ambiguity,  reserved  to  themselves 
an  evasion  or  subterfuge,  whatever  might  be  the 
event.  To  this  are  owing  the  prognostics  with  re- 
gard to  futurity,  which  men  fancied  they  should 
find  in  the  entrails  of  beasts,  in  the  flight  and  sing- 
ing of  birds,  in  the  aspect  of  the  planets,  in  fortui- 
tous accidents,  and  in  the  caprice  of  chance;  those 
dreadful  prodigies  that  filled  a  whole  nation  with 
terror,  and  which,  it  was  believed,  nothing  could 
expiate  but  mournful  ceremonies,  and  even  some- 
times the  effusion  of  human  blood:  in  fine,  those 
black  inventions  of  magic,  those  delusions,  enchant- 
ments, sorceries,  invocations  of  ghosts,  and  many 
other  kinds  of  divination. 

All  I  have  here  related  was  a  received  usage,  ob- 
served by  the  heathen  nations  in  general;  and  this 
usage  was  founded  on  the  principles  of  that  religion 
of  which  I  have  given  a  short  account.  We  ha/ea 
lig-nal  proof  of  this  in  that  passage  of  the  Cyropae- 

VOL.  I. — 4 


dia,1  where  Cambyses,  the  father  of  Cyras,  f,ives  that 
young  prince  such  ncble  instructions;  in^ructions 
admirably  well  adapted  to  form  the  great  captain 
and  great  king.  He  exhorts  him,  above  all  thing*, 
to  pay  the  highest  reverence  to  the  gods;  and  not 
to  undertake  any  enterprise,  whether  important  or 
inconsiderable,  without  first  calling  upon  and  con- 
sulting them;  he  enjoins  him  to  honor  the  priests 
and  augurs,  as  being  their  ministers  and  the  inter- 
preters of  their  will,  but  yet  not  to  trust  or  abandon 
himsell'so  implicitly  and  blindly  to  them,  as  not  by 
his  own  application,  to  learn  every  thing  relating  to 
the  science  of  divination,  of  auguries,  and  auspices. 
The  reason  which  he  gives  for  the  subordination 
and  dependence  in  which  kings  ought  to  live  with 
regard  to  the  gods,  and  the  benefit  derived  from  con- 
sulting them  in  all  things,  is  this:  How  clear-sighted 
soever  mankind  may  be  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
affairs,  their  views  are  always  very  narrow  and 
bounded  with  regard  to  futurity;  whereas  the  Deity, 
at  a  single  glance,  takes  in  all  ages  and  events.  "As 
the  gods,"  says  Cambyses  to  his  son,  "are  eternal, 
they  know  equally  all  things,  past,  present,  and  to 
come.  With  regard  to  the  mortals  who  address 
them,  thev  give  salutary  counsels  to  those  whom 
they  are  pleased  to  favor,  that  they  may  not  be  ig- 
norant ofwhat  things  they  ought  or  ought  not  to  un- 
dertake. If  it  is  observed,  that  the  deities  do  not 
give  the  like  counsels  to  all  men ;  we  are  not  to  won- 
der at  it,  since  no  necessity  obliges  them  to  attend 
to  the  welfare  of  those  persons  on  whom  they  do  no* 
Touchsafe  to  confer  their  favor.'' 

Such  was  the  doctrine  of  the  most  learned  and 
most  enlightened  nations,  with  respect  to  the  differ- 
ent kinds  of  divinations;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that 
the  authors  who  wrote  the  history  of  those  nations, 
thought  it  incumbent  on  them  to  give  an  exact  de- 
tail of  such  particulars  as  constituted  part  of  their 
religion  and  worship,  and  was  frequently,  in  a  man- 
ner, the  soul  of  their  deliberations,  and  the  standard 
of  their  conduct.  I  therefore  was  of  opinion,  for  the 
same  reason,  that  it  would  not  be  proper  for  me  to 
omit  entirely,  in  the  ensuing  history,  what  relates  to 
this  subject,  though  I  have,  however,  retrenched  a 
great  part  of  it. 

Archbishop  Usher  is  ray  usual  guide  in  chronolo- 
gy. In  the  history  of  the  Carthaginians  I  commonly 
set  down  four  eras:  The  year  from  the  creation  of 
the  world,  which,  for  brevity's  sake,  I  mark  thut, 
A.  M.;  those  of  the  foundation  of  Carthage  and 
Rome;  and  lastly,  the  year  before  the  birth  of  our 
Saviour,  which  I  suppose  to  be  the  4004th  year  of 
the  world;  wherein  I  follow  Usher  and  other*, 
though  they  suppose  it  to  be  four  years  earlier. 


>  Xeooph.  in  Cyrop.  1.  L  p.  25,  27 
C 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  ORIGIN  AND  PROGRESS  OF  THE  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  KINGDOMS. 


To  know  in  what  manner  the  states  and  kingdoms 
were  founded,  that  have  divided  the  universe;  the 
steps  whereby  they  rose  to  that  pitch  of  grandeur 
related  in  history;  by  what  ties  families  and  cities 
were  united,  in  order  to  constitute  one  body  or  so- 
ciety, and  to  live  together  under  the  same  laws  and 
a  common  authority;  it  will  be  necessary  to  trace 
things  back,  in  a  manner,  to  the  infancy  of  the  world, 
and  to  those  ages  in  .which  mankind,  being  dispersed 
into  different  regions  (after  the  confusion  of  tongues,) 
began  to  people  the  earth. 

In  these  early  ages  every  father  was  the  supreme 
head  of  his  family;  the  arbiter  and  judge  of  what- 
ever contests  and  divisions  might  arise  within  it; 
the  natural  legislator  over  his  little  society;  the  de- 
fender and  protector  of  those,  who  by  their  birth, 
education,  and  weakness,  were  under  his  protection 
and  safe-guard,  and  whose  interests  pateinal  ten- 
derness rendered  equally  dear  to  him  as  his  own. 

But  although  these  musters  enjoyed  an  independ- 
ent authority,  they  made  a  mil.i  and  paternal  use  of 
it.  So  far  from  being  jealous  of  their  power,  they 
neither  governed  witli  haughtiness,  nor  decided  with 
tyranny.  As  they  were  obliged  by  necessity  to  as- 
sociate their  family  in  their  domestic  labors,  they 
also  summoned  them  together,  and  aaked  their  opin- 
ion in  matters  of  importance.  In  this  manner  all 
affairs  were  transacted  in  concert,  and  for  the  com- 
mon good. 

The  laws  which  paternal  vigilance  established  in 
this  little  domestic  senate,  being  dictated  with  no 
other  view  than  to  promote  the  general  welfare; 
concerted  with  such  children  as  were  come  to  years 
of  maturity,  and  accepted  by  the  inferiors  with  a 
full  and  free  consent;  were  religiously  kept  and  pre- 
served in  families  as  an  hereditary  polity,  to  which 
they  owed  their  peace  and  security. 

But  different  motives  gave  rise  to  different  laws. 
One  man,  overjoyed  at  the  birth  of  a  first-born  son, 
resolved  to  distinguish  him  from  his  future  children, 
by  bestowing  on  him  a  more  considerable  share  of 
his  possessions,  and  giving  him  a  greater  authority 
in  his  family.  Another,  more  attentive  to  the  in- 
terest of  a  beloved  wife,  or  darling  daughter  whom 
he  wanted  to  settle  in  the  world,  thought  it  incum- 
bent on  him  to  secure  their  rights  and  increase  their 
advantages.  The  solitary  and  cheerless  state  to 
which  a  wife  would  be  reduced  in  case  she  should 
become  a  widow,  affected  more  intimately  another 
man,  and  made  him  provide  beforehand,  for  the  sub- 
sistence and  comfort  of  a  woman  who  formed  his 
felicity.  From  these  different  views,  and  others  of 
the  like  nature,  arose  the  different  customs  of  na- 
tions, as  well  as  their  rights,  which  are  infinitely 
rarious. 

In  proportion  as  every  family  increased,  by  the 
birth  of  children,  and  their  marrying  into  other 
families,  they  extended  their  little  domain,  and 
formed,  by  insensible  degrees,  towns  and  cities. 

These  societies  growing,  in  process  of  time,  very 
numerous;  and  the  families  being  divided  into  va- 
rious branches,  r.ach  of  which  had  its  head,  whose 
different  interests  and  characters  might  interrupt 
the  general  tranquillity;  it  was  necessary  to  intrust 
one  person  with  the  government  of  the  whole,  in 
order  to  unite  all  these  chiefs  or  heads  under  a  sin- 
gle authority,  and  to  maintain  the  public  peace  by 
a  uniform  administration.  The  idea  which  men  still 
retained  of  the  paternal  government,  and  the  happy 
effects  they  had  experienced  from  it,  prompted  them 
to  choose  from  among  their  wisest  and  most  virtuous 
men,  him  in  whom  they  had  observed  the  tenderest 


and  most  fatherly  disposition.  Neither  ambition  a«»i 
cabal  had  the  least  share  in  this  choice;  prohi'y 
alone,  and  the  reputation  of  virtue  and  equity,  de- 
cided on  these  occasions,  and  gave  the  preference 
to  the  most  worthy.1 

To  heighten  the  lustre  of  their  newly  acquired 
dignity,  and  enable  them  the  better  to  put  the  lawi 
in  execution,  as  well  as  to  devote  themselves  en- 
tirely to  the  public  good ;  to  defend  the  state  agauist 
the  invasions  of  their  neighbors,  and  the  factions  of 
discontented  citizens;  the  title  of  king  was  bestowed 
upon  them,  a  throne  was  erected,  and  a  sceptre  put 
into  their  hands;  homage  was  paid  them,  officers 
were  assigned,  and  guards  appointed  for  the  secui  ity 
of  their  persons;  tributes  were  granted;  they  were 
invested  with  full  powers  to  administer  justice,  and 
for  this  purpose  were  armed  with  a  sword,  in  order 
to  restrain  injustice,  and  punish  crimes. 

At  first,  every  city  had  its  particular  king,2  who, 
being  more  solicitous  to  preserve  his  dominion  than 
to  enlarge  it,  confined  his  ambition  within  the  limit* 
of  his  native  country.  But  the  almost  unavoidable 
feuds  which  breakout  between  neighbors;  jealousy 
against  a  more  powerful  king;  a  turbulent  and  lest 
less  spirit;  a  martial  disposition,  or  thirst  of  ag- 
grandizement; or  the  display  of  abilities;  gave  risn 
to  wars,  which  frequently  ended  in  the  entire  sub- 
jection of  the  vanquished,  whose  cities  were,  pos- 
sessed by  the  victor,  and  increased  insensibly  h?i 
dominions.  Thus,5  a  first  victory  paving  the  way  to 
a  second,  and  making  a  prince  more  powerAil  and 
enterprising,  several  cities  and  provinces  were  uuitrd 
under  one  monarch,  and  formed  kingdoms  of  a  great- 
er or  less  extent,  according  to  the  degree  of  ardor 
with  which  the  victor  had  pushed  his  conquests. 

But  among  these  princes  were  found  some.  who»« 
ambition  being  too  vast  to  confine  itself  within  a 
single  kingdom,  broke  over  all  bounds,  and  spread 
universally  like  a  torrent,  or  the  ocean;  swall.nved 
up  kingdoms  and  nations;  and  fancied  that  glory 
consisted  in  depriving  princes  of  their  dominions, 
who  had  not  clone  them  the  least  injury;  in  curry- 
ing fire  and  sword  into  the  most  remote  count  nes, 
and  in  having  every  where  bloody  traces  of  (heir 
progress!  Such  was  the  origin  of  those  lamou*  em- 
pires which  included  a  great  part  of  the  world. 

Princes  made  a  various  use  of  victory,  according 
to  the  diversity  of  their  dispositions  or  interests. 
Some,  considering  themselves  as  absolute  masters 
of  the  conquered,  and  imagining  they  were  sufficient- 
ly indulged  in  sparing  their  lives,  bereaved  them, 
as  well  as  their  children,  of  their  possessions,  their 
country,  and  their  liberty  ;  subjected  them  to  a  mort 
severe  captivity ;  employed  them  in  those  arts  wliich 
are  necessary  f  jr  the  support  of  life,  in  the  lowest 
and  most  servile  offices  of  the  house,  in  the  painful 
toils  of  the  field;  and  frequently  forced  them,  by 
the  most  inhuman  treatment,  to  dig  in  miner,  and 
ransack  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  merely  to  satiate 
their  avarice;  and  hence  mankind  were  divided  into 
freemen  and  slaves,  masters  and  bondmen. 

Other*  introduced  the  custom  of  transporting 
whole  nations  into  new  countries,  where  they  setth  o 
them,  and  gave  them  lands  to  cultivate. 


>  Quiw  ad  fumigium  hujus  mnjestatis  non  ambitio  pop* 
ris,  ncd  apcctata  inter  bunui  mode r u t io  provehebM.  Ju* 
„  \  ;  ••  i 


PREFACE. 


Other  princes  again,  of  more  gentle  dispositions, 
contented  themselves  with  only  obliging  the  van- 
quished nations  to  purchase  their  liberties,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  their  laws  and  privileges,  by  annual 
tributes,  laid  on  them  for  that  purpose;  and  some- 
times they  would  suffer  kings  to  sit  peaceably  on 
their  thrones  upon  condition  of  their  paying  them 
•onie  kind  of  horiage. 

But  such  of  these  monarchs  as  were  the  wisest  and 
•blest  politicians  thought  it  glorious  to  establish  a 
kind  of  equality  betwixt  the  nations  newly  conquer- 
ed and  their  other  subjects;  granting  the  former 
•  Imost  all  the  rights  and  privileges  which  the  others 
enjoyed:  and  by  this  means  the  greut  number  of  na- 
tion*, that  were  spread  over  different  and  far  distant 
count  r  us,  constituted,  in  some  measure,  but  one 
;ity,  at  least  but  one  people. 

Thus  I  have  given  a  general  and  concise  idea  of 


mankind,  from  the  earliest  monuments  wnich  histo- 
ry has  preserved  on  this  subject;  the  particulars 
whereof  I  shall  endeavor  to  relate,  in  treating  o^ 
each  empire  and  nation.  I  shall  not  touch  upon  the 
history  of  the  Jews,  nor  that  of  the  Romans.  The 
Egyptians,  Carthaginians,  Assyrians,  Babylonians, 
Medes,  Persians,  Macedonians,  and  Grecians,  will 
form  the  subject  of  the  work,  of  which  this  is  the 
first  volume.1  I  begin  with  the  Egyptians  anil  Car- 
thaginians, because  the  former  are  of  very  great 
antiquity,  and  as  the  his  ory  of  both  is  less  blended 
with  that  of  other  nation*;  whereas  those  of  other 
states  are  more  interwoven,  and  sometimes  succeed 
one  another. 


«  Thin  Introduction  was  given  along  with  the  first  volume 
of  the  first  edition. 


INTRODUCTION 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  BABYLONIANS,  LYDIANS,  MEDES,  AND 

PERSIANS, 

COMMENCING   VOL.   II.    OF   THE  ORIGINAL  EDITION,  AND   PAGE  94,   VOL.   I.    OF  THE  PRESENT  EDITTOH 


SECTION   I. 

Reflection  on  the  different  sorts  of  Government. 

THE  multiplicity  of  governments,  established 
among  the  different  nations  of  whom  I  am  to  treat, 
exhibits,  at  first  view,  to  the  eye  and  to  the  under- 
standing, a  spectacle  highly  worthy  our  attention; 
and  shows  the  astonishing  variety,  which  the  Sove- 
reign of  the  world  has  constituted  in  the  empires 
that  divide  it,  by  the  diversity  of  inclinations  and 
manners  observable  in  each  of  those  nations.  We 
herein  perceive  the  characteristics  of  the  Deity,  who, 
ever  resembling  himself  in  all  the  works  of  his  cre- 
ation, takes  a  pleasure  to  paint  and  display  therein, 
under  a  thousand  shapes,  in  infinite  wisdom,  by  a 
wonderful  fertility  and  an  admirable  simplicity — a 
wisdom,  that  can  form  a  single  work,  and  compose 
a  whole  perfectly  regular,  irom  all  the  different 
parts  of  tne  universe — and  all  the  productions  of 
nature,  notwithstanding  the  infinite  manner  in  which 
they  are  multiplied  and  diversified. 

In  the  East,  the  form  of  government  that  prevails 
is  the  monarchical,  which  being  attended  with  a 
majestic  pomp,  and  a  haughtiness  almost  inseparable 
from  supreme  authority,  naturally  tends  to  exact  a 
more  distinguished  respect,  and  a  more  entire  sub- 
mission, from  those  in  subjection  to  its  power. 
When  we  consider  Greece,  one  would  be  apt  to  con- 
clude, that  liberty  and  a  republican  spirit  had 
breathed  themselves  into  every  part  of  that  country  , 
and  had  inspired  almost  all  the  different  people  who 
inhabit  it,  with  a  violent  desire  of  .ndependence,  cli- 
Tersificd  however  under  various  kinds  of  govern- 
ment, but  till  equally  abhorre'.r  of  subjection  and 
slavery.  Ii.  one  part  of  Grew,  je  supreme  power 
is  lodged  in  il.e  people,  and  <•  -<hat  we  call  demo- 
tract/:  in  another,  it  is  v.s*  J  ?  an  assembly  of  the 
wise  men,  and  t  hos«-  aH  fa  .c-  d  .  years,  to  which  the 
name  of  artj/oei-ae^  i'  p:/e.:  in  a  third  republic, 
the  government  is  I'.dp^d  in  tSe  hands  of  a  small 
nuniTu  r  of  select  and  powerful  persons,  and  is  called 
an  oligarchy;  in  others,  again,  it  is  mixture  of  all 
these  parts,  or  of  several  of  them,  and  sometimes 
even  of  the  regal  power. 

It  is  manifest  that  this  variety  of  governments, 
which  all  tend  to  the  same  point,  though  by  differ- 
ent ways,  contributes  very  much  to  the  beauty  of 
the  universe;  and  that  itian  proceed  from  no  other 
being,  than  him  who  governs  it  with  infinite  wis- 
dom; and  who  diffuses  universally  an  order  and  sym- 
metry, of  which  the.  effect  is  to  unite  the  several 


part?  together,  and  by  that  means  to  form  one  work 
of  the  whole.  For  although,  in  this  diversity  of 
governments,  some  are  better  than  others,  we  never- 
theless may  very  justly  affirm  '  that  there  is  no  pow- 
er but  of  God:  and  that  the  powers  that  be,  are  or- 
dained of  God.  But  neither  every  use  that  is  made 
of  this  power,  nor  every  means  for  the  attainment 
of  it,  are  from  God,  though  every  power  be  of  him; 
and  when  we  see  these  governments  degenerating, 
sometimes  to  violence,  factions,  despotic  sway,  anil 
tyranny,  it  is  wholly  to  the  passions  of  mankind,  that 
we  must  ascribe  those  irregularities,  which  are  di- 
rectly opposite  to  the  primitive  institution  of  states, 
and  which  a  superior  wisdom  afterwards  reduces  to 
order,  always  making  them  contribute  to  the  execu- 
tion of  his  designs,  full  of  equity  and  justice. 

This  scene,  or  spectacle,  as  I  before  observed, 
highly  deserves  our  attention  and  admiration;  and 
will  display  itself  gradually,  in  proportion  as  I  ad- 
vance in  relating  the  ancient  history,  of  which  it 
seems  to  me  to  form  an  essential  part.  It  is  with 
the  view  of  making  the  reader  attentive  to  this  ob- 
ject, that  I  think  it  incumbent  on  me  to  add  to  the 
account  of  facts  and  events  what  regards  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  nations;  because  these  shovr 
their  genius  and  characters,  which  we  may  call,  in 
some  measure,  the  soul  of  history.  For  to  take  notice 
only  of  eras  and  events,  and  confine  our  curiosity  and 
researches  to  them,  would  be  imitating  the  impru- 
dence of  a  traveller,  who,  in  visiting  many  countries, 
should  content  himself  with  knowing  their  exact 
distance  from  each  other,  and  consider  only  the 
situation  of  the  several  places,  the  manner  of  build- 
ing, and  the  dresses  of  the  people;  without  giving 
himself  the  least  trouble  to  converse  with  the  in- 
habitants, in  order  to  inform  himself  of  their  genius, 
manners,  dispositions,  laws,  and  government.  Ho- 
mer, whose  design  was  to  give,  in  the  person  of 
I'lysses.  a  model  of  a  wise  and  intelligent  traveller, 
tells  us.  at  the  very  opening  of  his  Oily ssey,  that  his 
hero  informed  himself  very  exactly  in  the  manners 
and  customs  of  the  several  people  whose  cities  he 
visited,  in  which  he  ought  to  be  imitated  by  evcrjr 
person,  who  applies  himself  to  the  study  of  history. 

SECTION  II. 

A  geographical  description  of  A.«ia. 
As  Asia  will  hereafter  be  the  principal  scene  of 
the  history  we  are  now  entering  upon.it  may  no1  b* 


n.  liii.  1. 


PREFACE. 


improper  to  give  the  reader  such  a  general  idea  of 
it,  as  may  at  least  make  him  acquainted  with  its 
most  considerable  provinces  and  cities. 

The  northern  and  eastern  parts  of  Asia  are  less 
known  in  ancient  history. 

To  the  north  are  Asiatic  Sarmatia  and  Asiatic 
Scythia,  which  answer  to  Tartary. 

Sarmatia  is  situated  between  the  river  Tanais, 
which  separate*  Europe  and  Asia, and  the  river  Rha, 
or  Volga  Scythia  is  divided  into  two  parts;  the 
one  on  this,  the  other  on  the  other  side  of  mount 
Imaus.  The  nations  of  Scythia  best  known  to  us 
are  the  Sarae  and  Massagetae. 

The  most  eastern  parts  are,  Serica,  Cathay;  Sina- 
rum  regio,  China;  and  India.  This  last  country  was 
belter  known  anciently  than  the  two  former.  It  was 
divided  into  two  parts;  the  one  on  this  side  the 
Gauge*,  included  between  that  river  and  the  Indus, 
which  now  composes  the  dominions  of  the  Great 
Mogul;  the  other  part  was  that  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Gauges. 

Tht  remaining  part  of  Asia,  of  which  much  great- 
er mention  is  made  in  history,  may  be  divided  into 
five  or  six  parts,  taking  it  from  east  to  west. 

I.  Upper  Asia,  which  begins  at  the  river  Indus. 
The  chief  provinces  are  Gedrosia,  Carmania,  Ara- 
chosia,  Drangiana,  Bactriana,  the  capital  of  which 
was  Bactra;  Sogdiana,  Margiana,  Hyrcania,  near 
the  Caspian  Sea;  Parthia,  Media,  its  chief  citv  Ec- 
oatana ;  Persia,  the  cities  of  Persepolis  and  Ely'mais ; 
Susiana,  the  city  of  Susa ;  Assyria,  the  city  of  .Nine- 
veh, situated  on  the  river  Tigris;  Mesopotamia,  be- 
tween the  Euphrates  and  Tigris;  Babylonia,  the 
city  of  Babylon,  on  the  river  Euphrates. 

II.  Asia  between  the  Pontus  Euxinus  and  the  Cas- 
pian Sea.     Therein  we  may  distinguish   four  pro- 
vinces.    1.  Colchis,  the  river   Phasis,  and   mount 
Caucasus.    2.  Iberia.     3.  Albania;  which  two  last- 
mentioned   provinces   now   form   part  of  Georgia. 
4.  The  greater  Armenia.     This  is  separated  from 
the  lesser  by  the  Euphrates;  from  Mesopotamia  by 
mount  Taurus;  and  from  Assyria  by  mount  Nipha- 
tes.     Its  cities  are  Artaxata  and  Tigranocerta,  and 
the  river  Araxes  runs  through  it. 

III.  Asia  Minor.     This  may  be  divided  into  four 
or  five  parts,  according  to  the  different  situation  of 
its  provinces. 

1.  Northward,  the  shore  of  the  Pontus  Euxinus; 
Pontus,  under  three  different  names.     Its  cities  are, 
Trapezus,  not  far  from  which  are  the  people  called 
Chalybes  or  Chaldaei;   Themiscyra,  a  city  on  the 
river" Thermocion,  and  famous  for  having  been  the 
abode   of  the   Amazons.      Paphlagonia,  Bithynia; 
the  cities  of  which  are,  Nicas,  Prusa,  JVicomedia, 
Chalcedon  opposite  to  Constantinople,  and  Hera- 
clea. 

2.  Westward,  going  down  by  the  shores  of  the 
JEgean  sea:  Mysia,  of  which  there  are  two.     The 
Lesser,  in  which  stood  Cyzicus,  Lampsacus,  Parium, 
Abydos  opposite  to  Sestos  from  which  it  is  separa- 
ted only  by  the  Dardanelles;  Dardanum,  Sigaeum, 
Ilion.or  Troy;  and  almost  on  the  opposite  side,  the 
little  island  of  Tenedos.     The  rivers  are,  the  jEse- 
pus,  the  Granicus,  and   the  Simois.     Mount  Idar. 


This  region  is  sometimes  called  Phrygia  Minor,  u 
which  Troas  is  part. 

The  Greater  Mysia.  Antandrns,  TrajanopollS, 
Adrainyttium,  Pergamus.  Opposite  to  this  i\Ivsi» 
is  the  island  of  Lesoos ;  the  cities  of  which  are.  Me- 
thynuia,  where  the  celebrated  Arion  was  born:  and 
Mitylene,  which  has  given  to  the  whole  island  its 
modern  name  Metelin. 

.Eolia.     Elea,  Cumae,  Phocaea. 

Ionia.  Smvrna,  Clazomenae,  Teos,  Lebedus,  Co- 
lophon, Ephesus,  Priene,  Miletus. 

Caria.  Laodicea,  Antiochia,  Magnesia,  Alabanda. 
The  river  Maeander. 

Doris.     Halicarnassus  Cnidos. 

Opposite  to  these  four  last  countries,  are  the  islands 
Chios,  Samos,  Pathmos,  Cos:  and  lower,  towards 
the  south,  Rhodes. 

3.  Southward,  along  the  Mediterranean. 
Lycia,  the  cities  of  which  are,  Telmesus,  Patara. 

The  river  Xanthus.  Here  begins  mount  Taurus, 
which  runs  the  whole  length  of  Asia,  and  assumes 
different  names,  according  to  the  several  countries 
through  which  it  passes. 

Pamphylia.     Perga.  Aspendns,  Sida. 

Cilicia.  Seleucia,  Corycium,  Tarsus,  on  the  river 
Cydnus.  Opposite  to  Cilicia  is  the  island  of  Cyprus. 
The  cities  are,  Salamis,  Amathus,  and  Paphos. 

4.  Along  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  going  up 
northward ; 

The  Lesser  Armenia.  Coniana,  Arabyza,  Meli- 
tene,  Satala.  The  river  Melas,  which  empties  itself 
into  the  Euphrates. 

5.  Inland: 

Cappadocia;  the  cities  whereof  are,  Neocaesarea. 
Comana  Pontica.Sebastia,  SebastopoIis.Dioca^sarea, 
Cccsarea,  otherwise  called  Mazaca,  and  Tyana. 

Lvcaonia  and  Isauria.     [contain,  Isauria. 

Pisidia.     Seleucia  and  Antiochia  of  Pisidia. 

Lydia.  Its  cities  are,  Thyatira,  Sardis,  Philadel- 
phia. The  rivers  are,  Caystrus,  and  Hermus,  into 
which  the  Pactolus  empties  itself,  Mount  Sipylus 
and  Tmolus. 

Phrygia  Major.     Synnada,  Apamia. 

IV.  Syria,  now   named    Suria,  called  under  the 
Roman  emperors  the  East,  the  chief  provinces  oi 
which  are, 

1.  Palestine,  by  which  name  is  sometimes  under- 
stood all  Judea.     Its  cities  are,  Jerusalem,  Samaria, 
and  Caesarea  Palestine.    The  river  Jordan  waters  it. 
The  name  of  Palestine  is  also  given  to  the  land  of 
Canaan,  which  extended  along  the  Mediterranean, 
the  chief  cities  of  which  were  Gaza,  Ascalon,  Axo 
tus,  Accaron,  and  Gath. 

2.  Phoenicia,  whose  cities  are,  Ptolemais,  Tyre. 
Sidon,  and  Berytus.     Its  mountains,  Libanus,  anc. 
Antilibanus. 

3.  Syria,  properly  so  called,  or  Antiochena;  the 
cities   whereof  are,  Antiochia,  Apamia,  Loadicea 
and  Seleucia. 

4.  Comagena.     The  city  of  Samosata. 

5.  Cojlesyria.     The  cities  are.  Zeugma,  Thapsa 
cus,. Palmyra,  and  Damascus 

V.  Arabia  Petraea.     Its  cit.  »  are,  Petra,  at  u  B-JS 
tra.     Mount  Canui.     Deserta.     Felix. 


INTRODUCTION 

TO  THE 

HISTORY  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS, 

WHICH  OCCUPIES  THE  3d,  4th,  AND  5th  VOLS.  OF  THE   FIRST  EDITION,  AND  COMMENCES  AT  PAGE  19J 

VOI~   I.   OF  THIS   EDITION. 

BEFORE  I  enter  upon  the  history  of  the  Persians  j  of  this  third  volume;  and  3.  An  abridgment  of  the 
and  Grecians,  I  shall,  1.  prefix  here  some  prelimina-  j  Lacedaemonian  history,  from  the  establishment  of 
ry  observations,  by  way  of  introduction.  2.  I  shall  their  kings  to  the  reign  of  Darius,  where  this  third 
lay  down  the  plan  and  division  of  the  several  parts  volume  begins. 


PREFACE. 


29 


ARTICLE  I. 


A  brief  idea  of  the  history  contained  in  this  third  volume. 
Wliat  use  is  to  be  made  of  it. 

THIS  third  volume  of  the  ancient  history,  will  ( 
open  an  entirely  new  scene  to  the  reader's  view, 
not  unworthy  his  curiosity  and  attention.  We  have 
seen  two  states  of  no  great  consideration,  Media  and 
Persia,  extend  themselves  far  and  wide,  under  the 
conduct  of  Cyrus,  like  a  torrent  or  a  conflagration; 
and,  with  amazing  rapidity,  conquer  and  subdue 
many  provinces  and  kingdoms.  We  shall  ^ee  now 
that  vast  empire  setting  the  nations  under  its  do- 
minion in  motion,  the  Persians,  Medes,  Phoenicians, 
Egyptians,  Babylonians,  Indians,  and  many  others; 
and  falling,  with  all  the  forces  of  Asia  and  the  East, 
upon  a  little  country,  of  very  small  extent, and  des- 
titute of  all  foreign  assistance;  I  mean  Greece. 
When,  on  the  one  hand,  we  behold  so  many  nations 
united  together,  such  preparations  of  war  made  for 
several  yjears  with  so  much  diligence;  innumerable 
armies  by  sea  and  land,  and  such  fleets,  as  the  sea 
could  hardly  contain;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  two 
weak  cities,  Athens  and  Lacedasmon,  abandoned  by 
all  their  allies,  and  left  almost  entirely  to  them- 
selves; have  we  not  reason  to  believe,  that  these  two 
little  cities  are  going  to  be  utterly  destroyed  and 
swallowed  up  by  so  formidable  an  enemy;  and  that 
no  footsteps  of  them  will  be  left  remaining?  And 
yet  we  shall  find  that  they  will  prove  victorious;  and 
by  their  invincible  courage,  and  the  several  battles 
they  gain  both  by  sea  and  land,  will  make  the  Per- 
sian empire  lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  ever  again 
turning  their  arms  against  Greece. 

The  history  of  the  war  between  the  Persians  and 
the  Greeks  will  illustrate  the  truth  of  this  maxim, 
that  it  is  not  the  number,  but  the  valor  of  the  troops, 
and  the  conduct  of  the  generals,  on  which  depends 
the  success  of  military  expeditions.  The  reader  will 
admire  the  surprising  courage  and  intrepidity  of  the 
great  men  at  the  head  of  the  Grecian  affairs,  whom 
neither  all  the  world  in  motion  against  them  could 
defect,  nor  the  greatest  misfortunes  disconcert;  who 
undertook,  with  a  handful  of  men,  to  make  head 
against  innumerable  armies;  who,  notwithstanding 
such  a  prodigious  inequality  of  forces,  dared  to  hope 
for  success;  who  even  compelled  victory  to  declare 
on  the  side  of  merit  and  virtue;  and  taught  all  suc- 
ceeding generations  what  infinite  resources  are  to  be 
found  in  prudence,  valor,  and  experience;  in  a  zeal 
for  liberty  and  our  country ;  in  the  love  of  our  duty  ; 
and  in  all  the  sentiments  of  noble  and  generous  souls. 

This  war  of  the  Persians  against  the  Grecians  will 
be  followed  by  another  amongst  the  Greeks  them- 
selves, but  of  a  very  different  kind  from  the  former. 
In  the  latter,  there  will  scarce  be  any  actions,  but 
what  in  appearance  are  of  little  consequence  and 
seemingly  unworthy  of  a  reader's  curiosity  who  is 
fond  of  great  events:  in  this  he  will  meet  with  little 
besides  private  quarrels  between  certain  cities,  or 
some  small  commonwealths;  some  inconsiderable 
sieges  (excepting  that  of  Syracuse,  one  of  the  most 
important  related  in  ancient  history,)  though  several 
of  these  sieges  were  of  no  short  duration;  some  bat- 
tles between  armies,  where  the  numbers  were  small, 
and  but  little  blood  shed.  What  is  it  then,  that  has 
rendered  these  wars  so  famous  in  history?  Sallust 
informs  us  in  these  words:  "The  actions  of  the  Athe- 
nians doubtless  were  great;  and  yet  I  believe  they 
were  somewhat  less  than  fame  will  have  us  conceive 
of  them.  Hut  because  Athens  abounded  in  noble 
writers  the  acts  of  that  republic  are  celebrated 
throughout  the  whole  world  as  most  glorious;  and 
the  gallantry  of  those  heroes  who  performed  them, 
has  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  thought  as  trans- 
cendent as  the  eloquence  of  those  who  have  de- 
scribed them."1 


>  Atlieniensiuni  res  getlie,  sicuti  e»o  existirnu,  satis  am- 
pi*  majfiiiticreque  fuerunt;  verum  aliquanto  minores  tamen, 
quam  lama  feruntur.  fvd  quia  provenere  ibi  snripturum 
ma^iia  inflate,  p*f  lerrnrum  orbem  Ailicniensiuru  lacta  pro 
mavnis  t-elebriimur.  Ita  eorum,  qua;  tVcere,  virtu*  tanta 


Sallust,  tnough  jealous  enough  of  the  glory  the 
Romans  had  acquired  by  a  series  of  distinguished 
actions,  with  which  their  history  abounds,  yet  does 
justice  in  this  passage  to  the  Grecians,  by  acknow- 
ledging, that  their  exploits  were  trulv  great  and 
illustrious,  though  somewhat  inferior,  in  his  opinion 
to  their  fame.  VVhat  is  then  this  foreign  and  bor 
rowed  lustre,  which  the  Athenian  actions  have  de 
rived  from  the  eloquence  of  their  historians  ?  It  is 
that  the  whole  universe  agrees  in  looking  upon 
them  as  the  greatest  and  most  glorious  thut  ever 
were  performed:  Per  terraram  orl/em*ltlieiuer>sium 
facia  PRO  MAXIMIS  CELEBRANTUR.  All  nations, 
seduced  and  enchanted  as  it  were  with  the  beauties 
of  the  Greek  authors,  think  that  people's  exploits 
superior  to  any  thing  that  was  ever  done  by  any 
other  nation.  This,  according  to  Sallustf  is  the  ser  • 
vice  which  the  Greek  authors  have  done  the  Athe- 
nians, by  their  excellent  manner  of  describing  their 
actions;  and  very  unhappy  it  is  for  us,  that  our  his- 
tory, for  want  of  similar  assistance,  has  left  a  thou- 
sand brilliant  actions  and  fine  sayings  unrecorded, 
which  would  have  been  put  in  the  strongest  light 
by  the  writers  of  antiquity,  and  have  done  great 
honor  to  our  country. 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  must  be  confessed,  that 
we  are  not  always  to  judge  of  the  value  of  an  action, 
or  the  merit  of  the  persons  who  shared  in  it,  by  the 
importance  of  the  event.  It  is  rather  in  such  sieges 
and  engagements  as  we  find  recorded  in  the  history 
of  the  Peloponnesiau  war,  that  th<?  conduct  and  abili- 
ties of  a  general  are  truly  conspicuous..  Accordingly, 
it  is  observed,  that  it  was  chiefly  at  the  head  of  small 
armies,  and  in  countries  of  no  great  extent,  that  our 
best  generals  of  the  last  age  displayed  their  great 
capacity,  and  showed  themselves  not  inferior  tu  the 
most  celebrated  captains  of  antiquity.  In  actions 
of  this  sort  chance  has  no  share,  and  does  not  cover 
any  oversights  that  are  committed.  Every  thing  is 
conducted  and  carried  on  by  the  prudence  of  the 
general.  He  is  truly  the  soul  of  the  forces,  which 
neither  act  nor  move  but  by  his  direction.  He  sees 
every  thing,  and  is  present  every  where.  Kolhing 
escapes  his  vigilance  and  attention.  Orders  are  sea- 
sonably given,  and  seasonably  executed.  Contri- 
vances, stratagems,  false  marches,  real  or  feigned 
attacks,  encampments,  decampments;  in  a  word, 
every  thing  depends  upon  him  alone. 

On  this  account,  the  reading  of  the  Greek  histo- 
rians, such  asThucydides,  Xenophon.and  Polybius, 
is  of  infinite  service  to  young  officers;  because  those 
historians,  who  were  also  excellent  commander!), 
enter  into  all  the  particulars  of  the  events  which 
they  relate,  and  lead  the  readers,  as  it  were,  by  the 
hand,  through  all  the  sieges  and  battles  they  de- 
scribe; showing  them,  by  the  example  of  the  great 
est  generals  of  antiquity,  and  by  a  kind  of  autici 
pated  experience,  in  what  manner  war  is  to  be  car 
ried  on. 

Nor  is  it  only  with  regard  to  military  exploits, 
that  the  Grecian  history  affords  us  such  excellent 
models.  We  shall  there  find  celebrated  legislators, 
able  politicians,  magistrates  born  for  government, 
men  that  have  excelled  in  all  arts  and  sciences,  phi 
losophers  that  carried  their  inquiries  as  far  as  was 
possible  in  those  early  ages,  and  who  have  left  us 
such  maxims  of  morality,  as  might  put  many  Christi- 
ans to  the  blush. 

It  is  true,  these  very  philosophers,  notwithstand 
ing  their  penetration  in  some  points,  were  entirely 
blind  and  ignorant  as  to  others,  even  to  the  degree 
of  contesting  some  of  the  most  evident  principles  ol 
the  law  of  nature;  and  very  often  suffered  theii 
practice  to  belie  their  doctrine,  and  themselves  to 
fall  into  the  most  gross  irregularities.  The  Divine 
Pi  evidence  permitted  it  so  to  be,  and  thought  fit  to 
gi\  e  them  up  to  a  reprobate  mind,  in  order  to  punish 
their  pride,  and  to  teach  us  by  their  example,  what 
enormities  men  are  capable  of,  even  the  wisest  and 
most  knowing,  when  they  are  left  to  their  own  weak- 

habetur,  quantum,  earn  verbi*   potuere  extollere   prKnari 
ingeuia.    SaUzst.  in  Bell.  Catilin. 


30 


PREFACE. 


ness  anil  natural  depravity,  and  from  what  an  abyss 
the  ipercy  of  our  Divine  Mediator  has  delivered  us. 
But  though  they  fell  into  some  errors,  both  with 
respect  to  the  understanding  and  the  heart,  which 
we  are  obliged  to  detest;  yet  that  does  not  hinder 
their  books  1'roin  containing  many  excellent  maxims, 
which,  according  to  St.  Austin,1  we  are  entitled  to 
claim  as  a  benefit  appertaining  to  us,  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  Isiaelites,  when  they  came  out  of 
Egypt,  enriched  themselves  with  the  spoils  thereof: 
for  this  has  been  the  practice  of  all  the  saints :  "  Ipsi 
Gentiles  siquid  dirinum  et  rectum  in  doctrinis  suis 
habere  potuerunt,  non  improbaverunt  sancti  nos- 
tri."2 

The  same  thing  may  be  said  with  regard  to  the 
vurtuous  actions  of  the  heathens,  whereof  we  shall 
find  a  great  abundance  in  the  Grecian  history.  We 
are  told  by  St.  Austin,3  that  according  to  the  rule 
of  justice,  secundum  jtatitia:  regnlam,  we  ought  to 
be  so  far  from  blaming  and  condemning  those  ac- 
tions, that  we  are  obliged  in  reason  to  commend  and 
extol  them.  Not  that  those  actions  were  good  and 
laudable  in  every  respect;  St.  Austin*  was  very  far 
from  entertaining  such  an  opinion.  He  looked  upon 
them  only  as  good  in  their  nature,  and  with  respect 
to  the  duty  of  the  agents;  but  as  to  the  end,  for 
which  they  were  done,  that  father  thought  them 
very  blameable,  because  they  were  not  directed  to 
the  glory  of  God.  These  men  had  no  recourse  to 
the  true  God,  (for  him  they  did  not  know;  nor  was 
it  to  him  they  addressed  themselves  for  wisdom  in 
their  counsels,  success  in  their  undertakings,  the 
improvement  of  their  talents  or  their  virtue.  It  was 
not  to  the  true  God  they  returned  thanks  for  these 
blessings,  nor  did  they  give  him  the  glory  of  them 
by  an  humble  acknowledgment.  They  did  not  con- 
sider him,  either  as  the  source  and  principle,  or  as 
the  end  of  all  the  good  they  were  capable  of  doing. 
Their  best  actions  were  corrupted,  either  by  self- 
love  or  ingratitude,  they  could  not  therefore  be 
available  towards  salvation,  which  is  only  to  be  ob- 
tained through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 

But  notwithstanding  this,  according  to  the  same 
father,  it  may  be  very  useful  to  Christians,  both  for 
their  instruction  and  the  regulation  of  their  man- 
ners, to  have  the  virtuous  actions  of  the  heathens 
laid  before  them  in  their  full  light,  provided  they 
•et  not  too  high  a  value  upon  them:*  for  what  the 
lame  father  says  of  the  virtues  of  the  ancient  Ro- 
mans, may  undoubtedly  be  applied  with  equal  reason 
to  those  of  the  Grecians. 

He  employs  a  whole  chapter,  and  that  a  pretty 
long  one,  in  pointing  out  the  most  illustrious  actions 
and  signal  virtues  of  that  people ;  as  their  love  of  the 
public  good — their  devoted  attachment  to  their 
country — their  constancy  in  suffering  the  most  C'uel 
torments,  and  even  death  itself — their  noble  and 
generous  disinterestedness — their  esteeming  and 
choosing  poverty — their  profound  reverence  for  re- 
ligion and  the  gods.  He  makes  several  reflections 
upon  this  subject,  which  well  deserve  a  place  here. 

In  the  first  place  he  supposeth,  that  it  was  in  order 
to  recompense  the  Romans  for  all  these  virtues, 
which  yet  were  virtues  only  in  name  and  appear- 
ance, that  the  divine  providence  gave  them  the  em- 
pire of  the  universe,  a  recompense  very  suitable  to 
theirdeserts.and  with  which  they  were  weak  enough 
to  be  contented.  For  the  same  reason  he  supposes6 

t  St.  Aug  de  doctr.  clirin.  1.  vi.  c.  40. 

•  I)o  Impt.  con.  D.mat.  I.  vi.  c.  87. 

•  Ilali.-nili  sum  in  eurum  nuntcro,  quorum  etiam  impio- 
rum,  line  L).- ii m   verum  veraciter  juateque  colentium,  quse- 
dam  lamen   facta    vel  l.^imus,  vcl   novimug,  vel  ai-dimui, 
qua-  MTundiiin  justitiie  re;;ulam  non  xolum  vitu|x.Tare  non 
poKiiuinus,  VLTUin  i-iimn  merito  recteque  luudainui-.    St.Jlug. 
lib.  df  Spir.  et  lit.  n.  4f). 

•  Novrri*  iuujue  nun  officiU  g«d  finibus  a  vetiis  discernen- 
danesKc  i  rtutes.     Officium  autem  esl,  quod  faciendum  est ; 
fiiii*  vero.  propter  quod  tVinidum  est.     Id.  contr.  Julian. 
In.,  iv  o  :i.  n.  31.     Non  erat  in  f'a  vera  justiiia.  quia  non 
actlbua  sed  tinibua  pensanlur  oflicia.     Ibid.  n.  -JO. 

•  Si.  Au*t.  ile  civ.  D.'i,  lib.  v.  r.  18. 

•  Si  domains  Deus  nequc  luinr  terronam  cloriam  excel- 
bnuisiim  imperil  concederet,  non  redderetur  mercei  bonii 


God  thought  fit  to  let  their  name  be  so  clerical 
and  so  much  esteemed  by  all  nations  and  in  all  age*, 
that  so  many  great  and  illustrious  actions  should 
not  pass  entirely  unrewarded. 

In  the  second  place  he  observes,  that  such  virtues, 
notwithstanding  their  being  false,  are  of  public  ad- 
vantage to  mankind,  and  that  they  enter  into  the 
secret  designs  of  God  towards  the  punishing  or  re- 
warding oinis  creatures.  The  love  of  glorv,  which 
is  a  vice,  yet  serves  to  suppress  many  other  vices, 
of  a  more  hurtful  and  mischievous  nature,  such  as 
injustice, violence, and  cruelty.  Andean  it  beques- 
tioned,  whether  a  magistrate,  a  governor  of  a  pro- 
vince, or  a  sovereign,  that  are  gentle,  patient,  just, 
chaste,  and  beneficent,  though  merely  upon  human 
motives  of  interest  or  vain  glory,  are  not  infinite!/ 
more  serviceable  to  the  commonwealth,  than  the/ 
would  be,  if  they  were  destitute  of  those  external 
appearances  and  shadows  of  virtue;  and  whether 
men  of  such  dispositions  may  be  reckoned  among 
the  most  valuable  presents  of  heaven'?7  We  may 
the  better  judge  of  this  matter,  if  we  only  compare 
such  magistrates  and  princes  with  those  of  a  con- 
trary character,  who,  laying  aside  all  honor  and 
probity,  despising  reputation,  and  trampling  upon 
the  most  sacred  laws,  acknowledge  no  other  out 
their  brutal  passions;  who  are,  in  a  word,  such  ai 
God  in  his  wrath  sets  over  a  people  he  intends  to 
punish,  and  which  he  thinks  worthy  of  such  mas- 
ters. Et  talibus  (midem  dominandi  poteslas  non 
datur  nisi  summi  Dei  providentia,  quando  res  Au- 
manas  jndicat  talibus  dominis  dignas.9 

The  third  and  last  reflection  this  father  makes, 
and  which  is  the  most  pertinent  to  my  subject,  and 
to  the  end  I  propose  in  writing  this  Ancient  Histo- 
ry, relates  to  the  use  that  ought  to  be  made  of  the 
praises  given  to  the  virtuous  heathens. 

It  shows  what  advantage  a  prudent  reader  should 
reap  from  the  relation  of  the  great  exploits  and  vir- 
tuous actions  of  the  Grecians,  which  will  be  the 
principal  subject  of  this  and  the  following  volumes. 
When  we  see  these  men  sacrificing  their  estates  and 
fortunes  to  the  relief  of  their  fellow-citizens,  their 
lives  to  the  preservation  of  the  state,  and  even  theii 
fame  and  glory  to  the  public  good;  when  we  see 
them  practising  the  most  arduous  virtues,  and  that 
on  motives  purely  human,  in  order  to  acquire  a 
transient  reputation :  what  reproaches  ought  we  not 
to  make  to  ourselves,  and  how  much  ought  we  to  be 
ashamed,  if  professing  a  religion,  that  recommends 
itself  to  us  by  the  promises  of  eternal  rewards,  and 
has  such  powerful  motives  to  enforce  our  love  and 
gratitude,  we  however  want  the  courage  and  reso- 
lution to  practise  the  same  virtues?  And  it  we  are 
so  happy  as  to  fulfil  our  engagements  and  duty,  how 
can  we  be  proud  of  it,  when  we  consider  how  much 
greater  things  were  done  on  a  motive  of  mere  vain- 
glory, by  men  who  knew  not  God,  and  who  confined 
all  their  desires  to  the  goods  of  this  present  lite?9 

This  then,  according  to  St.  Austin,  is  the  princi- 
pal use  to  be  made  of  the  study  and  reading  of  pro- 
fane history:  nor  did  the  divine  providence1"  suffer 
the  Greeks  and  Romans  to  become  so  famous  and 
illustrious,  but  in  order  to  give  the  greater  weight 
to  those  examples  of  virtue  with  which  their  history 
abounds,  that  by  our  reading  them  with  seriousness 


artihus  eorum,  (i.  e.  virtutibus)  quibus  ad  tantam 

Ervcnire  nilebantur.     At  non  est  quod  je  summi  et  veri 
>i  justilii   conquerantur;   pe-ceperunt   mercedcm  guun. 
Ibid.  cap.  15. 

11  Constat  eo»,  qui  cive«  non  sin;  .ivilatisetermB,  uliliorei 
esae  terrena?  civiiati  quando  habent  virtutem  vel  ipsam 
quam  si  nee  ipsam.  Si.  jtutt.  tie  civ.  Dei,  lib.  v.  cap.  19. 

•  St.  Aust.  de  civ.  Dei.  lib.  v.  cap.  l.i. 

*  Ideo  nobig  proposila  sunt  ncrcssarisi;  commonilinnis  ex- 
empla,  ut,  si  virtuies,  quaruin   isia-  utcunque  Mint  simile* 
qua*  isti  procivitalis  tcrrena?  gloria  tenufirunt,  pro  Dri  glo> 
riosissiniB  civilale   non   tenucriinu*.  pudore    pungamur;  *i 
tenuerimus,   KU|K>rl>ia   non   cxlollamur.     Ibid.  n.  Irt   — — — 

10  Ut  oives  anerim'  illiiu  civiiulis.  quamdiu  liic  |iere»rinBn- 
tur  diligcnter  et  gobrie  ilia  intueantur  exempln,  et  videint 
quanta  dilectio  ill •!)  'utur  su|HTiia>  |«iiria.-  propter  vititmieter. 
nam,  si  iiintuin  .i  suis  civilm<  terrena  diltcta  est  uruptM 
minimam  gloriara-  -St.  Jlmt.  dt  civ.  Dei.  1.  v.  c.  1G. 


PREFACE. 


31 


Ind  attention,  we  should  learn  from  the  love  they 
kort  to  an  earthly  country,  and  to  a  glory  of  so  short 
•  duration,  what  longing  we  ought  to  have  after  an 
heavenly  country,  wliere  an  eternity  of  happiness 
•waits  us. 

If  the  virtues  of  those  who  are  celebrated  in 
history  may  serve  us  for  models  in  the  conduct 
of  our  lives;  their  vices  and  failings,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  no  less  proper  to  caution  and  instruct  us; 
and  the  strict  regard,  which  an  historian  is  obliged 
to  pay  to  truth,  will  not  allow  him  to  dissemble  the 
latter,  through  fear  of  eclipsing  the  lustre  of  the 
former.  Nor  does  what  I  here  advance  contradict 
the  rule  laid  down  by  Plutarch,1  on  the  same  subject, 
in  his  preface  to  the  fife  of  Cimon.  He  requires,  that 
the  ill  ustriousaotions  of  great  men  be  represented  in 
their  full  light;  but  as  to  the  faults,  which 'may  some- 
times escape  them  through  passion  or  surprise,  or 
into  which  they  may  be  drawn  by  the  necessity  of 
affairs,2  considering  them  rather  as  a  certain  degree 
of  perfection  wanting  to  their  virtue,  than  as  vices 
or  crimes  that  proceed  from  any  corruption  of  the 
heart:  such  imperfections  as  these,  he  would  have 
the  historian,  out  of  compassion  to  the  weakness  of 
human  nature,  which  produces  nothing  entirely  per- 
fect, content  himself  with  touching  very  lightly;  in 
the  same  manner  as  an  able  painter,  when  he  has  a 
fine  face  to  draw,  in  which  he  finds  some  little  blem- 
ish or  defect,  does  neither  entirely  suppress  it,  nor 
think  himself  obliged  to  represent  it  with  a  strict 
exactness;  because  the  one  would  spoil  the  beauty 
of  the  picture,  and  the  other  would  destroy  the  like- 
ness. Tlie  very  comparison  Plutarch  uses,  shows 
thai  he  speaks  only  of  slight  and  excusable  faults. 
But  as  16  actions  of  injustice,  violence,  and  brutali- 
ty, they  ought  not  to  be  concealed  nor  disguised  on 
any  pretence;  nor  can  we  suppose,  that  the  same 
privilege  should  be  allowed  in  history  as  in  painting, 
which  invented  the  profile  to  represent  the  side  face 
of  a  prince  who  had  lost  one  eye,  and  oy  that  means 
ingeniously  concealed  so  disagreeable  a  deformity. 
History,  the  most  essential  rule  of  which  is  sinceri- 
ty, will  by  no  means  admit  of  such  indulgences,  as 
indeed  would  deprive  it  of  its  greatest  advantage.3 

Shame,  reproach,  infamy,  hatred,  and  the  execra- 
tions of  the  public,  which  are  the  inseparable  atten- 
dants on  criminal  and  brutal  actions,  are  no  less 
proper  to  excite  a  horror  for  vice,  than  the  glory, 
which  perpetually  attends  good  actions,  is  to  inspire 
us  with  the  love  of  virtue.  And  these,  according  to 
Tacitus,  are  the  two  ends  which  every  historian 
ought  to  propose  to  himself  by  making  a  judicious 
choice  of  what  is  most  extraordinary  both  in  good 
and  evil,  in  order  to  occasion  that  public  homage  to 
De  paid  to  virtue  which  is  justly  due  to  it,  and  to 
create  the  greater  abhorrence  for  vice,  on  account  of 
that  eternal  infamy  that  attends  it.* 

The  history  which  I  am  writing  furnishes  but  too 
•nanv  examples  of  the  latter  sort.  With  respect  to 
the  Persians,  it  will  appear,  by  what  is  said  of  their 
rfings,  that  those  princes  whose  power  has  no  other 
bounds  than  those  of  their  will,  often  abandon 
themselves  to  all  their  passions;  that  nothing  is  more 
difficult  than  to  resist  the  illusions  of  a  man's  own 

freatness,  and  the  flatteries  of  those  that  surround 
ini ;  that  the  liberty  of  gratifying  all  one's  desires, 
•nd  of  doing  evil  with  impunity,  is  a  dangerous  situ- 
ation ;  that  the  best  dispositions  can  hardly  withstand 
such  a  temptation;  that  even  after  having  begun 
their  career  favourably,  they  are  insensibly  corrupt- 
ed by  softness  and  effeminacy,  by  pride,  and  their  a- 
Tersfo.i  to  sincere  counsels;  and  that  it  rarely  hap- 
pens they  are  wise  enough  to  consider,  that,  when 
they  find  themselves  exalted  above  all  laws  and  re- 

»  Ii  Cim.  p   479,  480. 

*  Ei.>.tiuUXT  .X     U3A.X.CI-    SflTHf  T«»0{    H    X  *  K  I  X  ,-   JTt  HPf  I  Uft  »T  X. 

*  H.i'irt  in  pictura  tppciem  tola  faciei.     Appellei  tamen 
hnazinem  Antisoni  latere  lantuni  altcro  ustendit,  ut  ami.-si 
oculi  dnformitas  latrret.      QuiitnV.  I.   ii.  c.   13. 

*  Ev;Mji|i  scntentias  haud  irutilui,  nisi  insijne§  per  hones- 
turn,  aui  nuinhili  dpdocnre:  quod  pr*ripuum  rnunu*  annali- 
8m  rec.r.  no  virtutes  sileantur,  utnue  pravis  i!ieti«  fartis<|iie 
•z  POSK  riiateet  infamii  met  in  sii.  Tacit,  anna/.  1.  iii  c.  65. 


straints,  they  stand  then  most  in  need  of  niixit ration 
and  wisdom,  both  in  regard  to  themselves  and  oth 
ers;  and  that  in  such  a  situation  they  ought  to  be 
doubly  wise  and  doubly  strong,  in  order  to  set  bounds 
within,  by  their  reason,  to  a  power  that  has  none 
without. 

With  respect  to  the  Grecians,  th  :  Peloponnesiat 
war  will  show  the  miserable  effects '«f  their  intestine 
divisions, and  the  fatal  excesses  into  which  they  were 
led  by  their  thirst  of  dominion;  ana  scenes  ol' injus- 
tice ingratitude,  and  perfidy,  together  with  the  open 
violation  of  treaties,  or  mean  artifu  es  and  unworthy 
tricks  to  elude  their  execution.  It  will  show,  how 
scandalously  the  Lacedaemonians  and  Athenians  de- 
based themselves  to  the  Barbarians,  in  order  to  beg 
aids  of  money  from  them:  how  shamefully  thegreat 
deliverers  of  Greece  renounced  the  glory  of  all  their 
past  labours  and  exploits,  by  sleeping  and  making 
their  court  to  haughtv  and  insolent  satrapa?,  and  by 
going  successively,  with  a  kind  of  emulation,  to  im- 
plore the  protection  of  the  common  enemy,  whom 
they  had  so  often  conquered;  and  in  what  mannet 
they  employed  the  succours  they  obtained  from 
them,  in  oppressing  their  ancient  allies,  and  extend* 
ing  their  own  territories  by  unjust  and  violent  meth- 
ods. 

On  both  sides  and  sometimes  in  the  same  person, 
we  shall  find  a  surprising  mixture  of  good  and  bad, 
of  virtues  and  vices,  of  glorious  actions  and  mean 
sentiments;  and  sometimes,  perhaps,  we  shall  be 
ready  to  ask  ourselves,  whether  these  can  be  the 
same  people,  of  whom  such  different  things  are  rela- 
ted; ar.c!  whether  it  be  possible,  that  such  a  bright 
and  shining  light,  and  such  thick  clouds  of  smoke  and 
darkness,  can  proceed  from  the  same  source? 

I  relate  things  as  I  find  them  in  ancient  authors; 
and  the  pictures  I  present  the  reader  with  are  al- 
ways drawn  after  those  original  monuments,  which 
history  has  transmitted  to  us  concerning  the  persons 
I  speak  of;  and,  I  might  likewise  add,  after  human 
nature  itself.  But,  in  niy  opinion,  even  this  medley 
of  good  and  evil,  though  very  odd  in  itself,  may  be 
of  great  advantage  to  us,  and  serve  as  a  preservatives 
gainst  a  danger  sufficiently  common  and  nat'iral-  For 
if  we  found,  either  in  anv  nation  or  particular  per- 
sons, a  probity  and  a  nobfeness  of  sentiments  always 
uniform, and  free  from  all  blemish  and  weakness,  we 
should  be  tempted  to  believe  that  heathenism  is  ca- 
pable of  producing  real  and  perfect  virtues,  though 
our  religion  teaches  us,  that  those  virtues  we  most 
admire  among  the  heathens,  are  really  no  more 
than  the  shadow  and  appearance  of  them.  But  when 
we  see  the  defects  and  imperfections,  the  vices  and 
crimes,  and  those  sometimes  of  the  blackest  die,  that 
are  intermixed  with,  and  often  very  closely  follow 
their  most  virtuous  actions,  we  are  taught  to  moder- 
ate our  esteem  and  admiration  of  them;  and  at  the 
same  time,  that  we  commend  what  appears  noble, 
worthy,  and  great,  among  the  Pagans,  not  prodi- 
gally to  pay  to  the  phantom  of  virtue  that  entire  and 
unreserved  homage,  which  is  only  due  to  virtue  it- 
self. 

With  these  restrictions  I  desire  to  be  understood, 
when  I  praise  the  great  men  of  antiquity  and  their 
illustrious  actions;  and  if,  contrary  to  my  intention, 
any  expressions  should  escape  me,  which  may  seem  tt 
exceed  these  bounds,  I  desire  the  reader  to  interpret 
them  candidly  and  reduce  them  to  their  just  valu« 
and  meaning. 

ARTICLE  II. 

THE   GENERAL  PLAN  AND  DIVISION  OF  THE  THIRD 
VOLUME. 

The  history  contained  in  this  third  volume,  in- 
cludes the  space  of  one  hundred  and  seventeen  years, 
during  the  reigns  of  six  kings  of  Persia:  Darius,  the 
first  of  the  name,  the  son  of  Hystaspes;  Xerxes  the 
first;  Artaxerxes.surnamed  Long!  man  us:  Xerxes  the 
second:  Sogdianus  (these  two  last  reigned  but  a 
very  little  time:)  and  Darius  the  second,  commonly 
called  Darius  Nothus.  This  history  begins  at  the 
year  of  the  world  3483,  and  extends  to  the  ye»» 


32 


PREFACE. 


3COO.  As  this  whole  period  naturally  divides  itself 
into  two  parts,  I  shall  also  divide  it  into  two  distinct 
books. 

The  first  part,  which  consists  of  ninety  years,  ex- 
tends from  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Darius  the 
first,  to  the  forty-second  year  of  Artaxerxes,the  same 
year  in  which  the  Peloponnesian  war  began;  that  is, 
from  the  yeai  jf  the  world  3483,  to  the  year  3573. 
This  part  chiefly  contains  the  different  enterprises 
and  expeditions  of  the  Persians  against  Greece,  which 
never  produced  more  great  men  and  great  events, 
nor  ever  displayed  more  conspicuous  or  more  solid 
virtues.  Here  will  be  seen  the  famous  battles  of 
Marathon,  Thermopylae,  Artemisium,  Salamis,  Pla- 
toea,  Mycale,  Eurymedon,  &c.  Here  the  most  emi- 
nent commanders  of  Greece  signalized  their  cour- 
age; Miltiades,  Leonidas,  Themistocles,  Aristides, 
Cimon,  Pausanias,  Pericles,  Thucydides,  &c. 

To  enable  the  reader  more  easily  to  recollect 
what  passed  within  the  space  of  time  among  the 
Jews,  and  also  among  the  Romans,  the  history  of 
both  which  nations  is  entirely  foreign  to  that  of  the 
Persians  and  Greeks,  I  shall  here  set  down  in  few 
words  the  principal  epochas  relating  to  them. 

EPOCHAS  OF  THE  JEWISH   HISTORY. 

The  people  of  God  were  at  this  time  returned 
from  their  Babylonish  captivity  to  Jerusalem,  under 
the  conduct  of  Zorobabel.  Usher  is  of  opinion  that 
the  history  of  Esther  ought  to  be  placed  in  the  reign 
of  Darius.  The  Israelites,  under  the  shadow  of  this 
prince's  piotection,  and  animated  by  the  earnest  ex- 
hortations of  the  prophets  Haggai  and  Zechariali.il  id 
at  last  finish  the  building  of  the  temple,  which  had 
been  interrupted  for  many  years  by  the  cabals  of  their 
enemies.  Artaxerxes  was  no  less  favourable  to  the 
Jews  than  Darius:  he  first  of  all  sent  Ezra  to  Jerusa- 
lem, who  restored  the  public  worship,  and  the  obser- 
vation of  the  law;  then  .Nehemiah,  who  caused  walls 
to  be  built  round  the  city,  and  fortified  it  against  the 
attacks  of  their  neighbours,  who  were  jealous  of  its 
reviving  greatness.  It  is  thought  that  Malachi,  the 
last  of  the  prophets,  was  contemporary  with  IVehe- 
tuiah,  or  that  he  prophesied  not  long  after  him. 

This  interval  of  the  sacred  history  extends  from 
the  reign  of  Darius  I.  to  the  beginning  of  the  reign 
of  Darius  Nothus;  that  is  to  say,  from  the  year  of 
the  world  3485,  to  the  year  3581.  After  which  the 
Scripture  is  entirely  silent,  till  the  time  of  the  Mac- 
cabees. 

FPOCHAS   OF  THE   ROMAN  HISTORY. 

The  first  year  of  Darius  I.  was  the  233d  of  the 
building  of  Rome.  Tarquin  the  Proud  was  then  on 
the  throne,  and  about  ten  years  after  was  expelled, 
when  the  consular  government  was  substituted  to 


retreat  among  the  Volsci,  and  the  war  that  ensued 
thereupon;  the  wars  of  the  Romans  against  the  Lat- 
ins, the  Veientes,  the  Volsci,  and  other  neighbour- 
ing nations;  the  death  of  Virginia  under  the  De- 
r.emvirate;  the  disputes  between  the  peopleand  sen- 
ate about  marriages  and  the  consulship,  which  oc- 
casioned the  creating  of  military  tribunes  instead  of 
consuls.  This  period  of  time  terminates  in  the  323d 
year  from  the  foundation  of  Rome. 

The  second  part,  which  consists  of  twenty-seven 
years,  extends  from  the  43d  year  of  Artaxerxes 
Longimanus,  to  the  death  of  Darius  Nothus;  that 
is,  from  the  year  of  the  world  3573,  to  the  year  3600. 
It  contains  the  first  nineteen  years  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesian war,  which  continued  twenty -seven,  of  wnich 
Greece  and  Sicily  were  the  seat,  and  wherein  the 
Greeks,  who  had  before  triumphed  over  the  Barba- 
rians, turned  their  arms  against  each  other.  Among 
the  Athenians,  Pericles,  Nicias,  and  Alcibiades; 
among  the  Lacedaemonians,  Brasidas,  Gvlippus,  and 
Lysaiuler,  distinguished  themselves  in  the  most  ex- 
traordinary manner. 

Rome  continues  to  be  agitated  by  different  dis- 
putes between  the  senate  and  the  people.  Towards 


the  end  of  this  period,  and  about  the  350th  yea/  (* 
Rome,  the  Romans  formed  the  siege  of  Veji,  which 
lasted  ten  years. 

ARTICLE  III. 

AN  ABRIDGMENT  OF  THE  LACEDEMONIAN  HISTO- 
RY, FROM  THE  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  THEIR  KINGS, 
TO  THE  REIGN  OF  DARIUS  THE  FIRST,  KING  OF 
PERSIA. 

I  have  already  observed,  that 
eighty  years  after  the  taking  of  A.  M.  2900. 
Troy,  the  Heraclidae,  that  is,  the  Ant.  J.  C.  1104. 
descendants  of  Hercules,  return- 
ed into  the  Peloponnesus,  and  made  themselves  mas- 
ters of  Lacedaemon,  where  two  brothers,  Eurysthe- 
nesand  Procles,  sons  of  Aristodemus,  reigned'joint- 
ly  together.  Herodotus  observes,1  that  these  two 
brothers  were,  during  their  whole  lives,  at  variance, 
and  that  almost  all  their  descendants  inherited  the 
like  disposition  of  mutual  hatred  and  antipathy;  so 
true  it  is,  that  the  sovereign  power  will  admit  of 
no  partnership,  and  that  two  kings  will  always  be 
too  many  for  one  kingdom!  However,  alter  the 
death  ot  these  two,  the  descendants  of  both  still 
continued  to  sway  the  sceptre  jointly:  and  what  is 
very  remarkable,  these  two  branches  subsisted  for 
near  nine  hundred  years,  from  the  return  of  the 
Heraclidae  into  the  Peloponnesus,  to  the  death  of 
Cleomenes.and  supplied  Sparta  with  kings  without 
interruption,  and  that  generally  in  a  regular  succes- 
sion from  father  to  son,  especially  in  the  elder  branch 
of  the  family. 

The  Origin  and  Condition  of  the  Elotce,  or  Hdott. 
When  the  Lacedaemonians  first  began  to  settle  in 
Peloponnesus,  they  met  with  great  opposition  from 
the  inhabitants  of  the  country,  whom  they  were 
obliged  to  subdue  one  after  another  by  force  of  arms, 
or  receive  into  their  alliance  on  easv  and  equitable 
terms,  with  the  imposition  of  a  small  tribute,  Stra- 
bo2  speaks  of  a  city  called  EIos,  not  far  from  Spar 
ta,  which,  after  having  submitted  to  the  yoke,  as 
others  had  done,  revolted  openly  and  refused  to  pay 
the  tribute.  Agis,  the  son  of  Eurysthenes,  newly 
settled  on  the  throne,  was  sensible  of  the  danger- 
ous tendency  of  this  first  revolt,  and  therefore  im 
mediately  marched  with  an  army  against  them,  to- 
gether with  Soiis,  his  colleague.  They  laid  siege 
to  the  city,  which  after  a  pretty  long  resistance,  was 
forced  to  surrender  at  discretion.  This  prince 
thought  it  proper  to  make  such  an  example  of  them 
as  should  intimidate  all  their  neighbours,  and  deter 
them  from  the  like  attempts,  and  yet  not  alienate 
their  minds  by  too  cruel  a  treatment;  for  which  rea- 
son he  put  none  to  death.  He  spared  the  lives  of 
all  the  inhabitants,  but  at  the  same  time  deprived 
them  of  their  liberty,  and  reduced  them  all  to  a  state 
of  slavery.  From  thenceforward  they  were  em- 
ployed in  all  mean  and  servile  offices,  and  treated 
with  extreme  rigour.  These  were  the  people  who 
were  called  Elotae.or  Helots.  The  number  of  them 
exceedingly  increased  in  process  of  time,  the  Lace 
daemonians  giving-  undoubtedly  the  same  name  to 
all  the  people  whom  thev  reduced  to  the  same  con- 
dition of  servitude.  As  they  themselves  were  avers* 
to  labour.and  entirely  addicted  to  war,  they  left  th« 
cultivation  of  their  lands  to  these  slaves,  assigning 
every  one  of  them  a  certain  portion  of  ground,  tl  a 
produce  of  which  they  were  obliged  to  carry  e\eiy 
year  to  their  respective  masters,  who  endeavoured 
by  all  sorts  of  ill  usage,  to  make  their  yoke  more 
grievous  and  insupportable.  This  was  certainly  very 
bad  policy,  and  could  only  tend  to  breed  a  vast  num- 
ber of  dangerous  enemies  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
state,  who  were  always  ready  to  take  arms  and  re 
volt  on  every  occasion.  The  Romans  acted  more 
prudently;  for  they  incorporated  the  conquered  na- 
tions into  their  state,  by  associating  them  into  the 
freedom  of  their  city,  and  thereby  converted  them 
from  enemies,  into  brethren  and  fellow  citizen*. 


«  Lib.  ri.  c.  5-2. 

*  Lib    viii.  p.  365.  Plul.  in  Lycurg.  p,  40. 


PREFACE. 


33 


1..YCCJRGUS,  the  Lactdcemoniun  Lawgiver. 
Eurytion,  or  Eurypon,'  as  he  is  named  by  Others, 
succeeded  Sous.  In  order  to  gain  the  affection  of 
his  people,  and  render  his  government  agreeable,  he 
thought  fit  to  recede  in  some  points'  from  the  abso- 
lute power  exercised  by  the  kings  his  predecessors; 
this  rendered  his  name  so  dear  to  his  subjects,  that 
all  his  descendants  were,  from  him,  called  Eury- 
tionidae.  But  this  relaxation  gave  birth  to  horri- 
ble confusion,  and  an  unbounded  licentiousness  in 
Sparta,  and  for  a  long  time  occasioned  infinite  ini<- 
chirts.  The  people  became  so  insolent,  that  nothing 
Could  restrain  them.  If  Eurytion's  successors  at- 
tempted to  recover  their  authority  by  force,  they 
became  odious;  and  if,  through  complaisance  or 
weakness,  they  chose  to  dissemble,  their  mildness 
served  only  to  render  them  contemptible;  so  that 
order  in  a  manner  was  abolished,  and  the  laws  no 
longer  regarded.  These  confusions  hastened  the 
death  of  Lycurgus's  father,  whose  name  wa»  Euno- 
nius,  and  who  was  killed  in  an  insurrection.  Poly- 
dectes,  his  tl  lest  son  and  successor,  dying  soon  after 
without  children,  every  body  expected  that  Lycur- 
gus  would  have  been  king.  And  indeed  he  was  so 
in  effect,  as  long  as  the  pregnancy  of  his  brother's 
wife  was  uncertain;  but  as  soon  as  that  was  mani- 
fest, he  declared  that  the  kingdom  belonged  to  her 
child,  in  case  it  proved  a  son;  and  from  that  mo- 
ment he  took  upon  himself  the  administration  of  the 
government,  as  guardian  to  his  unborn  nephew,  un- 
der the  title  of  Prodicos,  which  was  the  name  given 
by  the  Lacedaemonians  to  the  guardians  of  their 
kings.  When  the  child  was  born,  Lycurgus  took 
him  in  his  arms,  and  crird  out  to  the  company  that 
was  present,  "  Behold,  my  lords  of  Sparta,  your 
new-born  king!''  and  at  the  same  time,  he  put  the 
infant  into  the  king's  seat,  and  named  him  Charilaus, 
because  of  the  joy  the  people  expressed  upon  occa- 
sion of  his  birth*.  The  reader  will  find  in  the  second 
volume  of  this  history,  all  that  relates  to  the  history 
of  Lycurgus,  the  reformation  he  made,  and  the  ex- 
cellent laws  he  established  in  Sparta.  Agesilaus  was 
at  this  t.aie  king  in  tne  elder  branch  of  the  family. 

War  between  the  Ar gives  and  the  Lacedctmonians. 
Some  time  after  this,2  in  the  reign  of  Theopom- 
pus,  a  war  broke  out  between  the  Argives  and  La- 
cedaemonians, on  account  of  a  little  country,  called 
Thvrt-a,  that  lay  upon  the  confines  of  the  two  states, 
anJ  to  which  each  of  them  pretended  a  right.  When 
the  two  armies  were  ready  to  engage,  it  was  agreed 
on  both  sides,  in  order  to  spare  the  effusion  of  blood, 
that  the  quarrel  should  be  decided  by  three  hundred 
of  the  bravest  men  chosen  from  their  respective  ar- 
ii)  ts;  and  that  the  land  in  question  should  become 
the  property  of  the  victorious  party.  To  leave  the 
combatants  more  room  to  engage,  the  two  armies 
retired  to  some  distance.  Those  generous  cham- 
pions then,  who  had  all  the  courage  of  two  mighty 
armies,  boldly  advanced  towards  each  other,  and 
fought  with  so  much  resolution  and  fury,  that  the 
whule  number  except  three  men,  two  on'the  side  of 
the  Argives,  and  one  on  that  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
lay  dead  upon  the  spot;  and  only  the  night  parted 
them.  The  two  Argives,  looking  upon  themselves 
as  the  conquerors,  made  what  haste  they  could  to 
Argus  to  carry  the  news;  the  single  Lacedaemonian, 
Othryades  by  name,  instead  of  retiring,  stripped  the 
dfsd  bodies  ol  the  Argives,  and  carrying  their  arms 
into  the  Laced.emonian  camp,  continued  in  his  post. 
The  next  day  the  two  armies  returned  to  the  field 
jf  battle.  Both  sides  laid  equal  claim  to  the  victo- 
ry: the  Argives,  because  they  had  more  of  the-*1 
champions  left  alive  than  the  enemy  had;  the  Lact- 
dMnoniaos,  because  the  two  Argives  that  remained 
alive  had  Hed ;  whereas  their  single  soldier  had  re- 
mained master  of  the  field  of  battle,  and  had  carried 
jfl  the  spoils  of  the  enemv:  in  short,  they  could  not 
deterj^'.ne  the  dispute  without  coming  to  another 
•Lghgement.  Here  fortune  declared  in  favor  of  the 


Lacedaemonians,  and  the  .  ttle  territory  of  Thyrea 
was  the  prize  of  their  victory.  But  Othryades,  not 
able  to  bear  the  thoughts  of  hurviving  his  brave  com- 
panions, or  of  enduring  the  sight  of  Sparta  after 
their  death,  killed  himself  on  the  same  field  of  battle 
where  they  had  fought,  resolving  to  have  one  fate 
and  tomb  with  them. 

Wars  between  the  Messenians  and  Laccdacmcnians. 

There  were  no  less  than  three  several  wars  be- 
i  tween  the  Mesienians  and  the  Lacedaemonians,  all 
I  of  them  very  fierce  and  bloody.  Messenia  was  a 
j  country  in  Peloponnesus,  towards  the  west,  and  not 
j  far  from  Sparta:  it  was  of  considerable  strength 
!  and  was  governed  by  its  own  kings. 

The  first  Messenian  War. 
The  first  Messenian  war  lasted 
twenty  years,  and   broke  out  the        A.M.  3261. 
j  second  year  of  the  ninth  Olym-     Ant.  J.  C.  743. 
!  piad.8    The  Lacedaemonians  pre- 
!  tended  to  have  received  several  considerable  inju- 
|  ries  from  the  Messenians,  and  among  others,  that  of 
having  had  their  daughters  ravished  by  the  inhab- 
i  itants  of  Messenia,  when  they  went,  according  to 
j  custom,  to  a  temple  that  stood  on  the  borders  of  the 
j  two  nations;  as  also  that  of  the  murder  of  Telecles, 
their  king,  which  was  a  consequence  of  the  former 
I  outrage.     Probably  a  desire  of  extending  their  do- 
I  minion,  and  of  seizing  a  territory  which  lay  so  con- 
i  renient  for  them,  might  be  the  true  cause  of  the 
I  war.     But  be  that  as  it  may,  the  war  broke  out  in 
|  the  reign  of  Polydorus  and  Theopompu?,  kings  of 
Sparta,  at  the   time  when  the  office  of  archon  at 
Athens  was  still  decennial. 

Euphaes,  the  thirteenth  descendant  from  Hercu- 
les, was  then  king  of  Messenia.*  He  gave  the  com- 
mand of  his  army  to  Cleonnis.  The  Lacedaemonians 
opened  the  campaign  with  the  siege  of  Amphea,  a 
small  inconsiderable  city,  which,  however,  they 
thought  would  suit  them  very  well  as  a  place  for 
military  store*.  The  town  was  taken  by  storm,  and 
all  the  inhabitants  put  to  the  sword.  This  first  blow 
served  only  to  animate  the  Messenians,  by  showing 
them  what  they  were  to  expect  from  the  enemy,  if 
they  did  not  defend  themselves  with  vigor.  "The 
Lacedaemonians,  on  their  part,  bound  themselves  by 
an  oath,  not  to  lay  down  their  arms,  nor  return  to 
Sparta,  till  they  had  made  themselves  masters  of  all 
the  cities  and  lands  belonging  to  the  Messenians:  so 
much  did  they  rely  upon  their  strength  and  valor. 
Two  battles  were  fought,  wherein  the  loss  was 
nearly  equal  on  both  sides.5  But  after  the  second, 
the  Messenians  suffered  extremely  through  the  want 
of  provisions,  which  occasioned  a  great  desertion 
among  their  troops,  and  at  last  brought  a  pestilence 
among  them. 

Hereupon  thev  consulted  the  oracle  of  Delphi, 
which  directed  them,  in  order  to  appease  the  wrath 
ofthe  gods,  to  offer  up  a  virgin  of  the  royal  blood 
in  sacrifice.  Aristomenes,  wno  was  of  the  race  of 
the  Epytides,  offered  his  own  daughter.  The  Mes- 
senians then  considering,  that  if  they  left  garrisons 
in  all  their  towns,  they  should  extremely  weaken 
their  army,  resolved  to  abandon  them  all,  except 
Ithome,  a  little  place  seated  on  the  top  of  a  h  I  of 
the  same  name,  about  which  they  encamped  and  for- 
tified themselves.  In  this  situation  were  seven  years 
spent,  during  which  nothing  passed  but  slight  skir- 
mishes on  both  sides,  the  Lacedaemonians  not  daring, 
in  all  that  time  to  force  the  enemy  to  a  battle. 

Indeed,  they  almost  despaired  of  being  able  to 
reduce  them:  nor  was  there  any  thing  but  the  obli- 
gation ofthe  oath,  by  which  they  had  bound  them- 
selves, that  made  them  continue  so  burdensome  a 
war.  What  gave  them  the  greatest  unpn«:-"«s  was, 
their  apprehension,  lest  then  duseuce  troin  their 
wives  for  so  many  year?,  an  absence  which  might 
still  continue  many  more,  should  destroy  their  fa»- 


«  Pint,  in  Lvcurg.  p.  10. 
Voul_5 


*  Herod.  1   i.  c.  62. 


»  Pauian.  1.  ir.  p.  216—242.    JnMin.  1.  iii   c.  4 

*  Pauum.  1.  IT.  415,  226.  •  Paiuan.  1.  ir.  227-  O4. 


34 


PREFACE. 


ilies  at  home,  and  leave  Sparta  destitute  of  citizens.1 
To  prevent  thic.  misfortune,  they  sent  home  such  of 
their  soldiers  as  were  come  to  the  army  since  the 
forementioned  path  had  been  taken,  and  made  no 
scruple  of  prostituting  their  wives  to  their  embraces. 
The  children  that  sprung  from  this  unlawful  inter- 
course, were  called  Partheniae,  a  name  given  them 
to  denote  the  infamy  of  their  birth.  As  soon  as  they 
were  grown  up,  not  being  able  to  endure  such  an 
opprobrious  distinction,  they  banished  themselves 
from  Sparta  with  one  consent,  and  under  the  conduct 
of  Phaiantus,  went  and  settled  at  Tarentum  in  Italy, 
after  driving  out  the  ancient  inhabitants. ^ 

At  last  in  the  eighth  year  of  the  war,  which  was 
the  thirteenth  of  Euphaes's  reign, a  fierce  and  bloody 
battle  was  fought  near  Ithome.3  Euphaes  pierced 
through  the  battalions  of  Theopompus  with  too 
much  neat  and  precipitation  for  a  king.  He  there 
received  a  multitude  of  wounds,  several  of  which 
were  mortal.  He  fell,  and  seemed  to  give  up  the 
ghost.  Whereupon  wonderful  efforts  of  courage 
were  exerted  on  both  sides;  by  the  one,  to  carry  off 
the  king;  by  the  other  to  save  him.  Cleonnis  killed 
eight  Spartans,  who  were  dragging  him  along,  and 
spoiled  them  of  their  arms,  which  he  committed  to 
the  custody  of  some  of  his  soldiers.  He  himself  re- 
ceived several  wounds,  all  on  the  fore-part  of  his 
body,  which  was  a  certain  proof  that  he  had  never 
turned  his  back  upon  his  enemies.  Aristomenes, 
fighting  on  the  same  occasion,  and  for  the  same  end, 
killed  rive  Lacedaemonians,  whose  spoils  he  likewise 
carried  off,  without  receiving  any  wound.  In  short, 
the  king  was  saved  and  carried  off  by  the  Messeni- 
ans;  and,  all  mangled  and  bloody  as  he  was,  he  ex- 
pressed great  joy  that  he  had  not  been  worsted. 
Aristomenes,  alter  the  battle  was  over,  met  Cleon- 
nis, who,  by  reason  of  his  wounds,  could  neither  walk 
by  himself,  nor  with  the  assistance  of  those  that  lent 
him  their  hands.  He  therefore  took  him  upon  his 
shoulders,  without  quitting  his  arms,  and  carried 
him  to  the  camp. 

As  soon  as  they  had  applied  the  first  dressing  to 
the  wounds  of  the  king  of  Messenia  and  of  his  offi- 
cers, there  arose  a  new  contention  among  the  Mes- 
senians,  that  was  pursued  with  as  much  warmth  as 
the  former,  but  was  of  a  very  different  kind,  and  yet 
the  consequence  of  the  other.  The  affair  in  question 
was,  the  adjudging  the  prize  of  glory  to  him  that 
had  signalized  his  valor  most  in  the  late  engage- 
ment. It  was  a  custom  among  them,  which  had 
long  been  established,  publicly  to  proclaim,  after  a 
battle,  the  name  of  the  man  that  had  showed  the 
greatest  courage.  Nothing  could  be  more  proper 
to  animate  the  officers  and  soldiers,  to  inspire  them 
with  resolution  and  intrepidity,  and  to  stifle  the  na- 
tural apprehension  of  death  and  danger.  Two  illus- 
trious champions  entered  the  lists  on  this  occasion, 
namely,  Cleoncis  and  Aristomenes. 

The  king,  notwithstanding  his  weak  condition,  at- 
tended by  the  principal  officers  of  his  army,  pre- 
sided in  the  council,  where  this  important  dispute 
«as  to  be  decided.  Each  competitor  pleaded  his 
own  cause.  Cleonnis  founded  his  pretensions  upon 
the  great  number  of  the  enemies  he  had  slain,  and 
upon  the  multitude  of  wounds  he  had  received  in 
the  action,  which  were  so  many  undoubted  testimo- 
nies of  the  courage  with  which  he  had  faced  both 
ueath  and  danger;  whereas,  the  condition  in  which 
Aristomenes  came  out  of  the  engagement,  without 
hurt  and  without  wound,  seemed  to  show,  that  he 
had  been  v«r-  careful  of  his  own  person,  or,  at  most, 
could  only  prove,  that  he  had  been  more  fortunate, 
out  not  more  brave  or  courageous,  than  himself 
An.l  as  to  his  having  carried  him  on  his  shoulders 
into  the  camp,  that  action  indeed  might  serve 'to 
prove  the  strength  of  his  body,  but  nothing  farther; 
and  the  thing  in  dispute  at  this  time,  says  he,  is  not 
strength  but  valor. 


The  only  thing  Aristomenes  was  reproached  for 
was,  his  not  being  wounded;  therefore  he  confined 
himself  to  that  point.  "  I  am,"  says  he,  "  called  for. 
tunate,  because  I  have  escaped  from  the  battle  with* 
out  wounds.  If  that  were  owing  to  my  cowardice, 
I  should  deserve  another  epithet  than  that  of  fortu- 
nate; and  instead  of  being  admitted  to  dispute  the 
prize,  ought  to  undergo  the  rigor  of  the  laws  that 
punish  cowards.  But  what  is  objected  to  me  as  • 
crime,  is  in  truth  my  greatest  glory.  For,  if  my 
enemies,  astonished  at  my  valor,  durst  not  venture 
i  to  attack  or  oppose  me,  it  is  no  small  degree  of 
merit  that  I  made  them  fear  me;  or  if,  whilst  they 
engAg-cd  me,  I  had  at  the  same  time  strength  to  cut 
them  in  pieces,  and  skill  to  guard  against  their  at 
tacks,  I  must  then  have  been  at  one*1  both  valiant 
and  prudent.  For  whoever,  in  the  midst  of  an  en- 
gagement, can  expose  himself  to  dangers  with  cau- 
tion and  security,  shows,  that  he  excels  at  the  same 
time  both  in  the  virtues  of  the  mind  and  the  bodr< 
As  forcourage.no  man  living  can  reproach  Cleonnii 
with  any  want  of  it;  but  for  his  honor's  sake,  I  am 
sorry  that  he  should  appear  to  want  gratitude." 

After  the  conclusion  of  these  harangues,  the  ques 
tion  was  put  to  the  vote.  The  whole  army  is  in  sus 
pense,  and  impatiently  waits  for  the  decision.  No 
dispute  could  be  so  warm  and  interesting  as  this 
It  is  not  a  competition  for  gold  or  silver,  but  solely 
for  honor.  The  proper  reward  of  virtue  is  pure  dig 
interested  glory.  Here  the  judges  are  unsuspected. 
The  actions  of  the  competitors  still  speak  for  them. 
It  is  the  king  himself,  surrounded  with  his  officers 
who  presides  and  adjudges.  A  whole  army  are  the 
witnesses.  The  field  of  battle  is  a  tribunal  without 
partiality  and  cabal.  In  short,  all  the  votes  con- 
curred in  favor  of  Aristomenes,  and  adjudged  him 
the  prize. 

Euphaes  died  not  many  days  after  the  decision  of 
this  affair.*  He  had  reigned  thirteen  years,  and 
during  all  that  time  had  been  engaged  in  war  with 
the  Lacedaemonians.  As  he  died  without  children 
he  left  the  Messenians  at  liberty  to  choose  his  suc- 
cessor. Cleonnis  and  Damis  were  candidates  in  op- 
position to  Aristomenes;  but  he  was  elected  kii^iu 
preference  to  them.  When  he  was  on  the  throne. 
he  did  not  scruple  to  confer  on  his  two  rivals  the 
principal  offices  of  the  state:  all  strongly  attached 
to  the  public  good,  even  more  than  their  own  glory; 
competitors,  but  not  enemies;  these  great  men  were 
actuated  by  a  zeal  for  their,  country,  and  were 
neither  friends  nor  adversaries  to  one  another,  but 
for  its  preservation. 

In  this  relation,  I  have  followed  the  opinion  of  th« 
late  Monsieur  Boivin5  the  elder,  and  have  made  use 
of  his  learned  dissertation  upon  a  fragment  of  Dio- 
dorus  Siculus,  which  the  world  was  little  acquainted 
with.  He  supposes  and  proves  in  it,  that  the  king 
spoken  of  in  that  fragment  is  Euphaes;  and  that 
Aristomenes  is  the  same  that  Pausanias  calls  Aristo 
demus,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  ancients  who 
were  often  called  by  two  different  names. 

Aristomenes,  otherwise  called  Aristodemus,  reign- 
ed near  seven  years,  and  was  equally  esteemed  and 
beloved  by  his  subjects.  The  war6  still  continued 
all  this  time.  Towards  the  end  of  his  reign  he  beat 
the  Lacedaemonians,  took  their  king  Theopompu% 
and  in  honor  of  Jupiter  of  Ithome,  sacrificed  three 
hundred  of  them,  among  whom  their  king  was  the 
principal  victim.  Shortly  after,  Aristodemus  sacri- 
ficed himself  upon  the  tomb  of  his  daughter,  in  con- 
formity to  the  answer  of  an  oracle.  Damis  was  hit 
successor,  but  without  taking  upon  him  the  title  of 
king. 

After  his  deathj  the  Messenians  never  had  any 
success  in  their  affairs,  but  found  themselves  in  a  very 
wretched  and  hopeless  condition.  Being  reduced 
to  the  last  extremity,  and  utterly  destitute  <. t  nrr»- 
visions,  they  abandoned  Ithome,  and  fled  to  such  ot 


•  Hiod.  1.  xv.  p.  378. 

•  Kt   regnata   petam   Laconi   rura   Phalunto.     Her.  Od. 
vi.  I.  -'. 

•  i'ausan.  1.  iv.  p.  234,  235.    Diod.  in  Frag. 


«  Paunan.  I.  T.  p.  235,  241. 

•  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of  inscriptions,  vol.  ii.p  34 — 113 
«  Clem.  Alex,  in  Protrep.'p. 20.  Euseh.  in  Pr»j».  1  ir.  c  W. 
»  Paucan.  1.  iv.  p.  241,  24;!. 


PREFACE. 


35 


their  allies  as  were  nearest  to  them.  The  city  was 
ininie<l>i>telv  razed,  and  the  other  part  of  the  country 
submitted.  They  were  made  to  engage  by  oath  never 
to  forsake  the  party  of  the  Laced;einonians,  and  never 
to  revolt  from  them;  a  very  useless  precaution,  onlv 
proper  to  make  them  add  the  guilt  of  perjurj  to  their 
rebellion.  Their  new  masters  imposed  no  tribute 
upon  them;  but  contented  themselves  with  obliging 
them  to  bring  to  the  Spartan  market  one.  half  of  the 
corn  they  should  reap  every  harvest.  It  was  likewise 
(tipulated,  that  the  Messenians,  both  men  and  women, 
should  attend,  in  mourning,  the  funerals  either  of  the 
kings  or  chief  citizens  of  bparta;  which  the  Lacedas- 
nonians  probably  looked  upon  as  a  mark  of  depen- 
dance,  and  as  a  kind'  of  homage 
A.M.  3281.  paid  to  their  nation.  Thus  ended 
Ant.  J.  C.  723.  the  first  Messenian  war,  after  hav- 
ing lasted  twenty  years. 

THE    SECOND   MESSE.MAN   WAR. 

The  lenity  l  with  which  the  Lacedaemonians  treated 
the  Messenians  at  first,  was  of  no  long  duration. 
When  once  they  found  the  whole  country  had  sub- 
mitted, and  thought  the  people  incapable  of  giving 
them  any  farther  trouble,  they  returned  to  their  na- 
tural character  of  insolence  and  haughtiness,  that  oft- 
en degenerated  into  cruelty,  and  sometimes  even  into 
ferocity.  Instead  of  treating  the  vanquished  with 
kindness,  as  friends  and  allies,  and  endeavouring  bv 
gentle  methods  to  win  those  whom  they  had  subdued 
bv  force,  they  seemed  intent  upon  nothing  but  aggra- 
vating their  voke,  and  making  them  feel  the  whole 
weight  of  subjection.  They  laid  heavy  taxes  upon 
them,  delivered  them  up  to  the  avarice  of  the  collec- 
tors of  those  taxes,  gave  no  ear  to  their  complaints, 
rendered  them  no  justice,  treated  them  with  con- 
tempt like  vile  slaves,  and  committed  the  most  hein- 
ous outrages  against  them. 

Man,  who  is  born  for  liberty,  can  never  reconcile 
him«t  If  to  servitude:  the  most  gentle  slavery  exas- 
perates, and  provokes  him  to  rebel.  What  could  be 
expected  then  from  so  cruel  a  one  as  that  under  which 
the  .Messenians  groaned?  After  harving  endured  it 
with  great  uneasiness2  near  forty  years,  they  resolved 
to  throw  off  the  yoke,  and  to  recover  their  ancient 
liberty.  This  was  in  the  fourth 

A.  M.  3320.         year  of  the  twenty-third  Olympiad : 

Ant.  J.  C.  684.     the  office  of  archon  at  Ath't  ns  was 

then  made  annual ;  and  Anaxander 

and  Anaxidamus  reigned  at  Sparta. 

The  Messenians'  first  care  was  to  strengthen  them- 
selves bv  the  alliance  of  the  neighbouring  nations. 
These  they  found  well  inclined  to  enter  into  their 
views,  as  \ery  agreeable  to  their  own  interests.  For 
it  was  rot  without  jealousy  and  apprehensions,  that 
they  saw  so  powerful  a  city  rising  up  in  the  midst  of 
them,  which  manifestly  seemed  to  aim  at  extending 
her  dominion  overall  the  rest.  The  people  therefore 
of  Elis,  the  Arrives  and  Sicypnians,  declared  for  the 
Messfnians.  But  before  their  forces  were  joined,  a 
battle  was  fought  between  the  Laceda?monians  and 
Messfnians.  ArMomenes,3  the  second  of  that  name, 
was  at  the  head  of  the  latter.  He  was  a  commander 
of  intrepi  I  courage,  and  of  great  abilities  in  war. 
The  Laced  rmonians  were  beaten  in  this  engagement. 
Anstomenes,  to  give  the  enemy  at  first  an  advanta- 
geous opinion  of  his  bravery,  knowing  what  influence 
It  has  on  t;ie  success  of  future  enterprise,  boldly  ven- 
tured to  enter  into  Sparta  by  night,  and  upon  the 
fate  of  the  temple  of  Minerva,  surnamed  Chalcioecos, 
to  hang  up  a  shield,  on  which  was  an  inscription, 
signifying,  that  it  was  a  present  ottered  by  Aristo- 
inenes  to  the  goddess  out  of  the  spoils  of  the  Lace- 
daemonians. 

This  bravado  did  in  reality  astonish  the  Lacedae- 
monians. But  they  were  still  more  alarmed  at  the 


»  Pausnn.  p.  242.  2RI.     Juntin.  I.  iii.  e.  5. 

>  Cum  per  coniplures  annos  gravia  nervilutis  Yerborm. 
p!erumf]ue  et  viiicula,  oeteraque  raptiviialis  mala  perneui^ 
Mient,  post  lun<ram  pcpnarum  patientiam  bellum  imtau- 
Ifnt.  Justin.  I.  iii.  c.  5. 

•  Arrording  to  several  historians,  there  wa§  another  ArU- 
tomeue*  in  the  first  Meuenian  war.  Diod.  1.  xv.  p.  378. 


formidable  league  that  was  formed  against  them. 
The  Delphic  oracle,  which  they  consulted,  in  order  to 
know  by  what  means  they  should  be  successful  in 
this  war,  directed  them  to  send  to  Athens  for  a  com- 
mander, and  to  submit  to  his  counsel  and  conduct. 
This  was  a  very  mortifying  step  to  so  haughty  a  city 
as  Sparta.  But  the  fear  of  incurring  the  god's  dis- 
pleasure, bv  a  direct  disobedience,  prevailed  over  all 
other  considerations.  They  sent  an  embassy  therefore 
to  the  Athenians.  The  people  of  Athens  were  some- 
what perplexed  at  the  reouest.  On  the  one  hand 
they  were  not  sorry  to  see  the  Lacedaemonians  at  war 
with  their  neighbours,  and  were  far  from  desiring  to 
furnish  them  with  a  good  general:  on  the  other,  they 
were  afraid  also  of  disobeying  the  god.  To  extricate 
themselves  out  of  this  difficulty,  they  offered  the  La- 
cedaemonians Tyrtseus.  He  was  a  poet  by  profession, 
and  had  something  original  in  the  turn  of  his  mind, 
and  disagreeable  in  his  person;  for  he  was  lame. 
Notwithstanding  these  defects,  the  Lacedaemonians 
received  him  as  a  general  sent  them  by.  Heaven  itself. 
Their  success  did  not  at  first  answer  their  expecta- 
tion, for  they  lost  three  battles  successively. 

The  kings  of  Sparta,  discouraged  by  so  many  dis- 
appointments, and  out  of  all  hopes  of  better  success 
for  the  future,  were  absolutely  bent  upon  returning  to 
Sparta,  and  marching  home  again  with  thtir  forces. 
Tvrt;*'us  opposed  this  design  very  warmly,  and  at 
length  brought  them  over  to  his  opinion.  He  ad- 
dressed the  troops,  and  repeated  to  them  sonic  verses 
he  had  made  with  that  intention,  and  on  which  he  had 
bestowed  great  pains  and  application.  He  first  en- 
deavoured to  comfort  them  for  their  past  losses,  which 
he  imputed  to  no  fault  of  theirs,  but  only  to  ill  for- 
tune, or  to  fate,  which  no  human  wisdom  can  surmount. 
He  then  represented  to  them,  how  shameful  it  would 
be  for  Spartans  to  fly  from  an  enemy;  and  how  glo- 
rious it  would  be  for  them  rather  to  perish  sword  in 
hand,  if  it  was  so  decreed  bv  fate,  in  fighting  for  their 
country.  Then,  as  if  all  Janger  was  vanished,  and 
the  gods,  fully  satisfied  and  appeased  with  their  late 
calamities,  were  entirely  turned  to  their  side,  he  set 
victory  before  their  eyes  as  present  and  certain,  and 
as  if  she  herself  were  inviting  them  to  battle.  All  the 
ancient  authors,*  who  have  made  any  mention  of  the 
style  and  character  of  Tyrtasus's  poetry,  observe,  that 
it  was  full  of  a  certain  fire,  ardourx  and  enthusiasm, 
that  inflamed  the  minds  of  men,  that  exalted  them 
above  themselves,  that  inspired  5  them  with  something^ 
generous  and  martial,  that  extinguished  all  fear  and 
apprehension  of  danger  or  death,  and  made  them 
wholly  intent  upon  the  preservation  of  their  country 
and  tneir  own  glory. 

Tyrt^us's  rerses  had  really  this  effect  on  the  soldiers 
upon  this  occasion.  They  all  desired,  with  one  voice, 
to  march  against  the  enemy.  Being  become  indiffer- 
ent as  to  their  lives,  they  nad  no  thoughts  but  to  se- 
cure themselves  the  honour  of  a  burial.  To  this  end 
they  all  tied  strings  round  their  right  arms,  on  which 
were  inscribed  their  own  and  their  fathers'  names, 
that,  if  they  chanced  to  be  killed  in  the  battle,  and  to 
have  their  faces  so  altered  through  time,  or  accidents, 
as  not  to  be  distinguishable,  it  might  certainly  be 
known  who  each  of  them  was  by  these  marks.  Sol- 
diers determined  to  die  are  very  valiant.  This  ap- 
peared in  the  battle  that  ensued.  It  was  very  bloody, 
the  victory  being  a  long  time  disputed  on  both  sides: 
but  at  last  the  Messenians  gave  way.  When  Tyrtscus 
went  afterwards  to  Sparta,  he  was  received  with  the 
greatest  marks  of  distinction,  and  incorporated  into 
the  body  of  citizens. 

The  gaining  of  this  battle  did  not  put  an  end  to  the 
war,  which  had  already  lasted  three  years.  Aristo- 
menes,  having  assembled  the  remains  of  his  army,  re- 
tired to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  of  difficult  access,  which 
was  called  Ira.  The  conquerors  attempted  to  carry 
the  place  br  assault,  but  that  brave  prince  defended 
himself  there  for  the  spi  ce  of  eleven  years,  and  per- 


Plat.  1.  i.  de  Legib.  p.  629.    Plut.  in  Agid.  et  Cleom 
. 
•  Tyrttpusque  mares  animoi  in  martia  bella 

Verwbui  eiacuit.  HOT  in  Art   PML 


805. 


36 


PREFACE. 


foniH-'l  the  most  extraordinary  actions  of  valour.  He 
was  at  last  obliged  to  quit  it,  only  by  surprise  and 
treachery,  alter  having  defended  it  like  a  lion.  Such 
of  the  Messeuians  as  tell  into  the  hand*  of  the  Lace- 
dfemonians  on  this  occasion,  were  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of  the  Helots.  The  rest,  seeing  their  country 
ruined,  went  and  settled  at  Zancle,  a  city  in  Sicily, 
which  afterwards  took  its  name  from  this  people,  and 
was  called  Messana;  the  same  place  as  is  called  at 
this  day  Messina.  Aristomenes,  after  having  con- 
ducted one  of  his  daughters  to  Rhodes,  whom  lie  had 
given  in  marriage  to  the  tyrant  of  that  place,  thought 


of  passing  on  to  Sardis,  to  remain  with  Ardys,  king 
of  the  Lydians,  or  to  Ecbatana,  with  Phraortes,  king 
of  the  Medes;  but  death  prevented  the  execution  ol 
all  his  designs. 

The  second  Messenian  war  was 
of  fourteen   years'    duration,   and        A.  M.  3333. 
ended  the  lirst  year  of  the  twenty-     Ant.  J.  C.  67J. 
seventh  Olympiad. 

There  was  a  third  war  between  these  people  and  the 
Lacedaemonians,  which  began  both  at  the  time,  and 
on  the  occasion,  of  a  great  earthquake  that  happened 
at  Sparta.  We  shall  speak  of  this  war  in  its  place. 


INTRODUCTION 


TO  THE 

HISTORY  OF  PHILIP  KING  OF  MACEDONIA  AND  ALEXANDER  THE  GREAT. 

WHICH    FORMED    VOt.    VI.    OF    THE    FIRST    EDITION,    AND    COMMENCES    PAGE    000.    VOL.    I.    OF    THU 

EDITION. 


THE  reigns  of  Philip  king  of  Macedon,  and  Alex- 
ander his  son,  which  are  the  subject  of  this  volume, 
contain  the  space  of  thirty-six  years;  the  reign  of  the 
former  including  twenty-four,  and  that  of  the  latter 
twelve.  They  extend  Irom  the  first  year  of  the  cvth 
Olympiad,  or  the  year  of  the  world  3644,  to  the  first 
year  of  the  cxivth  Olympiad,  which  answers  to  the 
year  of  the  world  3680. 

The  kings  who  reigned  during  that  time  in  Persia, 
were  Artaxerxes,  Ochus,  Arses,  and  Darius  Codoma- 
nus.  The  Persian  empire  expired  with  the  last. 

We  know  not  any  thing  concerning  the  transactions 
of  the  Jews  during  these  thirty-six  yearn,  except  what 
we  are  told  by  Josephus,  Book  xi.  chap.  7  and  8,  of 
his  Antiquities  of  the  Jews,  under  the  high-priests 
John  or  Johannan,  and  Jaddus.  These  will  be  men- 
tioned in  the  course  of  this  history,  with  which  that 
of  the  Jews  is  intermixed. 

The  above  mentioned  space  of  thirty-six  years 
(with  respect  to  the  Roman  history,)  extends  from  the 
393d  to  the  429th  year  from  the  foundation  of  Rome. 
The  great  men  who  made  the  most  conspicuous  figure 
among  the  Romans  during  that  space  of  time,  were 
Appius  Claudius  the  dictator,  T.  Quinctius  Capitoli- 
nus,  Tit.  Manlius  Torquatus,  L.  Papirius  Cursor,  M. 
Valerius  Corvinus,  Q.  Fabius  Maximus,  and  the  two 
Decii,  who  devoted  themselves  to  death  for  the  sake 
of  their  country. 

The  names  of  Philip  and  Alexander,  of  whom  we 
are  now  to  speak,  are  so  well  known,  that  it  would 
be  superfluous  to  inform  our  readers,  that  the  history 
of  those  two  princes  is  very  important  and  affecting. 

It  were  to  b".  wished,  that  the  entire  life  of  Philip 
«f  Macedon,  written  by  some  ancient  author,  had 
come  down  to  us;  or  (since  we  have  no  such  life)  that 
•ome  modern  writer  had  collected  with  care  from  va- 
rious authors,  the  several  circumstances  relating  to  it. 
For  want  of  this,  I  have  had  recourse  chiefly  to  De- 
mosthenes, and  the  interpreters  of  this  orator;  par- 
ticularly to  the  notes  of  M.  de  Tourreil,  and  those  of 
Signior  Lucchesini,1  a  noble  patrician  of  Lucca,  whose 
remarks  are  very  learned. 

>  Those  notes  were  printed  at  Rome  hi  1732. 


With  regard  to  Alexander  the  Great,  not  to  men 
tion  Diodorus  Siculus,  and  Justin;  Quintus  Curtius 
Plutarch  and  Arrian.have  treated  very  largely  of  that 
monarch.  The  latter,  who  was  a  disciple  of  Epicte- 
tus,  was  of  Nicomedia  in  Bithynia.  He  flourished 
under  the  emperor  Adrian,  and  the  two  Antonines 
Arrian  was  a  soldier,  as  well  as  a  philosopher  and 
historian;  and  this  appears  from  the  descriptions  he 
gives  of  battles,  which  are  much  more  accurate  and 
exact  than  those  of  Quintus  Curtius.  His  style  if 
simple  and  unadorned,  and  he  makes  but  few  or  nc 
reflections;  but  this  simplicity  is  infinitely  superioi 
to  the  splendid  diction  of  the  Latin  historian.  Arrisr 
wrote  the  campaigns  of  Alexander  the  Great  in  sever 
books,  in  imitation  of  Xenophon,  who  had  related 
those  of  Cyrus,  in  the  same  number  of  books;  which 
circumstance,  with  some  resemblance  in  their  styles, 
has  occasioned  his  being  sometimes  called  the  modern 
Xenophon.  His  history  of  India,  comprised  in  one 
book  only,  seems  in  some  measure  the  sequel  and 
conclusion  of  that  of  Alexander. 

Quintus  Curtius  wrote  the  same  history  in  ten 
books;  the  two  first  of  which  were  not  transmitted 
to  us  but  have  been  supplied  by  Freinshemius. 
The  time  in  which  Quintus  Curtius  lived  is  not  ex- 
actly known,  a  circumstance  which  has  occasioned 
a  great  dispute  among  the  learned;  some  of  whom 
place  him  under  Augustus  or  Tiberius,  others  under 
Vespasian,  and  others  again  under  Trajan.  His  style 
is  florid  and  agreeable;  his  history  abounds  with  ju- 
dicious reflections  and  very  beautiful  speeches;  but 
the  latter  are  generally  too  long,  and  have  too  much 
the  air  of  declamation.  His  thoughts  though  fnge- 
!  nious,  and  very  often  extremely  just,  have  however 
!  a  conceited  glitter,  an  affected  brightness,  which  do 
j  not  seem  to  argue  the  character  of  the  Augustan  age. 
It  would  be  surprising,  if  Quintus  Curthio  had  lived 
before  Quintilian,  that  the  latter  in  his  enumeration 
of  the  Latin  authors,  should  have  made  no  mention 
of  .so  remarkable  an  historian.  Be  this  as  it  will 
(for  I  leave  the  decision  of  it  to  the  learned)  I  have 
made  great  use  of  that  author,  as  well  as  of  the  ex- 
cellent translation  which  M.  de  Vajgelas  has  givem 
us  of  him. 


INTRODUCTION 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER'S   SUCCESSORS, 


OCCUPIES  THE   7th,  8th,  9th,  AND  10th  VOLS.  OF  THE   FIRST  EDITION,  AND  WHICH  COMMENCTM 
AT  PAGE   1.   VOL.   II.   OF  THIS  EDITION. 


SECTION  1. 

THE  history,  of  which  it  remains  for  me  to  treat  in 
Jhis  \vc.'k.  u  that  of  the  successors  of  Alexander,  and 
Vjmj-rthcr.rls  the  space  of  two  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  \ears;  from  tne  death  of  that  monarch,  and  the 
commencement  :f  the  reign  of  Ptolemy  the  son  of 
Lapis  in  Egypt,  to  the  death  of  Cleopatra,  when 
that  kingdom  became  a  Roman  province,  under  the 
emperor  Augustus. 

The  history  will  present  to  our  view  a  series  of  all 
the  crimes  which  usually  arise  from  inordinate  ambi- 
tion ;  scenes  of  jealousy  and  perfidy,  treason,  ingra- 
titude, and  flagrant  abuses  of  sovereign  power;  cruelty, 
impiety,  an  utter  oblivion  of  the  natural  sentiments 
of  probity  and  honour,  with  the  violation  of  all  laws, 
human  and  divine,  will  rise  before  us.  We  shall  be- 
hold nothing:  but  fatal  dissensions,  destructive  wars, 
and  dreadful  revolutions.  Men,  originally  friends, 
Brought  up  together,  and  natives  of  the  same  country, 
companions  in  the  same  dangers,  and  instruments  in 
the  accomplishment  of  the  same  exploits  and  victo- 
ries, will  conspire  to  tear  in  pieces  the  empire  they  had 
til  concurred  to  form  at  the  expense  of  their  blood. 
We  shall  see  the  captains  of  Alexander  sacrifice  the 
mother,  the  wivei,  the  brother,  and  sisters,  of  that 
prince,  to  their  own  ambition;  without  sparing  even 
those  ta  whom  they  themselves  either  owed,  or  gave, 
life.  We  shall  no  longer  behold  those  glorious  tunes 
of  Greece,  that  were  once  so  productive  of  great  men 
»nd  great  examples;  or,  if  we  should  happen  to  dis- 
tover  some  traces  and  remains  of  them,  *hetf  will 
only  resemble  the  gleams  of  lightning  that  "shoot 
along  in  a  rapid  track,  and  attract  attention  only  in 
consequence  of  the  profound  darkness  that  precedes 
and  follows  them. 

I  acknowledge  myself  to  be  sufficiently  sensible 
how  much  a  writer  is  to  be  pitied,  for  being  obliged 
to  represent  human  nature  in  such  colours  and  linea- 
ments as  dishonour  her,  and  which  cannot  fail  of  in- 
tpiring  disgust,  and  a  secret  affliction  in  the  minds  of 
those  who  are  made  spectators  of  such  a  picture. 
History  loses  whatever  is  most  interesting  and  inert 
capable  of  conveying  pleasure  and  instruction,  when 
the  can  only  produce  those  effects,  by  inspiring  the 
mind  with  horror  for  criminal  actions, 'and  by  a  repre- 
lentation  of  the  calamities  which  usually  succeed 
them,  and  are  to  be  considered  as  their  just  punish- 
ment. It  is  difficult  to  engage  the  attention  of  a 
reader,  for  any  considerable  time,  on  objects  which 
only  raise  his  indignation;  and  it  would  b'e  affronting 
him,  to  seem  desirous  of  dissuading  him  from  the  ex- 
cess of  inordinate  passions,  of  wnich  he  conceives 
himself  incapable. 

How  is  it  possible  to  diffuse  any  interest  through  a 
narration,  which  has  nothing  to  offer  but  a  uniform 
series  of  vices  and  great  crimes;  and  which  makes  it 
necessary  to  enter  into  a  particular  detail  of  the  ac- 
tions and  characters  of  men  born  for  the  calamity  of 
the  human  race,  and  whose  very  name  should  not  be 
transmitted  to  posterity?  It  may  even  be  thought 
dangerous,  to  familiarize  the  minds  of  the  generality  of 
mankind  to  uninterrupted  scenes  of  two  successful  ini- 
quity; and  to  be  particular  in  describing  the  unjust 


success  which  waited  on  those  illustrious  criminals,  the 
long  duration  of  whose  prosperity  being  frequently  at- 
tended with  the  privileges  and  rewards  of  virtue,  may 
be  thought  an  imputation  on  Providence,  by  persons 
of  weak  understandings. 

This  history,  which  seems  likely  to  prove  very  dis- 
agreeable, from  the  reasons  I  have  just  mentioned, 
will  become  more  so  from  the  obscurity  and  confusion 
in  which  the  several  transactions  will  be  involved,  and 
which  it  will  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  remedy. 
Ten  or  twelve  of  Alexander's  captains  were  engaged 
in  a  course  of  hostilities  against  each  other,  for  the 
partition  of  his  empire  after  his  death;  and  to  secure 
to  themselves  g™*w.  portion  greater  or  less,  of  that 
vast  body.  Sometimes  feigned  friends,  sometimes 
declared  enemies,  they  are  continually  forming  differ- 
ent parties  and  leagues,  which  are  to  subsist  no  long- 
er than  is  consistent  with  the  interest  of  each  indivi- 
dual. Macedonia  changed  its  master  five  or  six  times 
in  a  very  short  space;  by  what  means  then  car  order 
and  perspicuity  be  preserved,  in  to  prodigious  a  varie- 
ty of  events  that  are  perpetually  crossing  and  break- 
ing in  upon  each  other? 

Besides  which,  I  am  no  longer  supported  by  any 
ancient  authors  capable  of  conducting  me  through  this 
darkness  and  confusion.  Diodoruswill  entirely  aban- 
don me,  after  having  been  my  gaide  for  some  time; 
and  no  other  historian  will  appear  to  take  his  place. 
No  proper  series  of  affairs  will  remain;  the  several 
events  are  not  to  be  disposed  into  any  regular  connex- 
ion with  each  other:  nor  will  it  be  possible  to  point 
out,  either  the  motives  to  the  resolutions  formed,  or 
the  proper  character  of  the  principal  actors  in  this  scene 
of  obscurity.  I  think  myself  happy  when  Polybius,  or 
Plutarch,  lend  me  their  assistance.  In  my  account  of 
Alexander's  successors,  whose  transactions  are,  per- 
haps, the  most  complicated  and  perplexed  part  ot  an- 
cient history,  Usher,  Prideaux,  and  Vaillant,  will  be 
my  usual  guides:  and  on  many  occasions,  I  shall  only 
transcribe  from  Prideaux ;  but,  with  all  these  aids, 
shall  not  promise  to  thipw  so  much  light  upon  this 
history  as  I  could  desire. 

After  a  war  of  more  than  twenty  years,  the  number 
of  the  principal  competitors  was  reduced  to  four: 
Ptolemy,  Cassander,  Seleucus,  and  Lysinmchus;  ihe 
empire  of  Alexander  was  divided  into  four  fixed  king- 
doms, agreeably  to  the  prediction  of  Daniel,  by  a  so- 
lemn treaty  concluded  between  the  parties.  Three  of 
these  kingdoms,  F.gypt,  Macedonia,  Syria,  or  Asia,  will 
have  a  regular  succession  of  monarchs,  sufficiently 
clear  and  distinct;  but  the  fourth,  which  comprehend"^ 
fd  Thrace,  with  part  of  the  Lesser  Asia,  and  som« 
neighbouring  provinces,  will  suffer  a  number  of  vari 
ations. 

As.  the  kingdom  of  Egypt  wag  that  which  was  sub 
ject  to  the  fewest  changes,  because  Ptolemy,  who  was 
established  there  as  governor,  at  the  death  of  Alexan- 
ilei,  retained  the  possession  of  it  ever  after,  and  lert 
it  to  his  posterity;  we  shall,  therefore,  consider  this 
prince  as  the  basis  of  our  chronology,  and  our  several 
epoehaii  shall  be  fixed  from  him. 

TKis  seventh  volume,  therefore,  will  contain   the 
space  of  one  hundred  and  three  or  four  years  under 
the  three  first  kings  of  Eyvpt:  viz.  Ptolemy  the  torn 
D'  37 


PREFACE. 


of  Lagus,  who  reigned  thirty-eight  years;  Ptolemy 
Philadelphia,  who  reigned  forty;  ana  Ptolemy  Euer- 
getes,  whose  reign  continued  twenty-seven. 

In  order  to  throw  some  light  upon  the  history  con- 
tained therein,  1  shall,  in  the  first  place,  give  the 
principal  events  of  it,  in  a  chronological  abridgment. 

Introductory  to  which,  I  must  desire  the  reader  to 
accompany  me  in  some  reflections,  which  Lave  not 
escaped  Monsieur  Bossuet,  with  relation  to  Alexan- 
der. This  prince,  who  was  the'  most  renowned  and 
illustrious  conqueror  in  all  history,  was  the  last  mo- 
narch of  his  race.  Macedonia,  his  ancient  kingdom, 
which  his  ancestors  had  governed  for  so  many  ages, 
was  invaded  from  all  quarters, as  a  vacant  succession; 
and  after  it  had  long  been  a  prey  to  the  strongest,  it 
was  at  last  transferred  to  another  family.  If  Alex- 
ander had  continued  peaceably  in  Macedonia,  the 
grandeur  of  his  empire  would  not  have  excited  the 
ambition  of  his  captains;  and  he  might  have  transmit- 
ted the  sceptre  of  his  progenitors  to  his  own  descend- 
ants; but,  as  he  had  not  prescribed  any  bounds  to 
his  power,  he  was  instrumental  in  the  destruction  of 
his  house,  and  we  shall  behold  the  extermination  of 
his  family,  without  the  lea&t  remaining  traces  of  them 
in  history.  His  conquests  occasioned  a  vast  effusion 
of  blood,  and  furnished  his  captains  with  a  pretext  for 
iiiurdering  one  another.  These  were  the  effects  that 
flowed  from  the  boasted  bravery  of  Alexander,  or 
rather  from  that  brutality,  which,  under  the  specious 
names  of  ambition  and  glory,  spread  desolation,  and 
carried  fire  and  sword  through  whole  provinces,  with- 
out the  least  provocation,  and  shed  the  blood  of  mul- 
titudes who  had  never  injured  him. 

We  are  not  to  imagine,  however,  that  Providence 
abandoned  these  events  to  chance;  but,  as  it  was  then 
preparing  all  things  for  the  approaching  appearance 
of  the  Messiah,  it  was  vigilant  to  unite  all  the  naiions 
that  were  to  be  first  enlightened  with  the  gospel,  by 
the  use  of  one  and  the  same  language,  which  was  that 
of  Greece:  and  the  same  Providence  made  it  necessa- 
rv  for  them  to  learn  this  foreign  tongue,  by  subjecting 
them  to  such  masters  as  spoke  no  other.  The  Deity, 
therefore,  by  the  agency  of  this  language,  which  be- 
came more  common  and  universal  than  any  other, 
facilitated  the  preaching  of  the  apostles,  and  rendered 
h  more  uniform. 

It  has  been  also  remarked,  that  the  design  of  God 
in  extending  the  Grecian  conquests  through  those 
very  nations  that  were  to  be  converted  by  the  gospel, 
was,  that  the  philosophy  of  the  Greeks  should  be 
equally  diffusive ;  in  order  to  prepare  the  minds  of 
those  barbarous  people ;  to  train  them  up  in  a  habitude 
of  turning  their  reflections  inward  upon  themselves; 
to  render  them  attentive  to  the  distinction  of  body  and 
soul,  matter  and  spirit;  to  awaken  in  them  an  idea  of 
the  soul's  immortality,  and  the  great  end  of  man's  ex- 
istence; to  recall  the  first  principles  of  the  law  of  na- 
ture; to  distinguish  the  characteristics  of  the  principal 
virtues;  to  furnish  them  with  rules  for  discharging  the 
duties  of  life,  and  to  establish  the  most  essential  ties 
of  society,  of  which  individuals  are  the  members. 
Christianity  derived  advantages  from  all  these  prepa- 
rations, and  has  gathered  in  all  the  fruit  of  those  seeds, 
which  Providence  scattered  on  the  minds  of  men  at 
such  a  remote  distance,  and  which  the  grace  of  Jesus 
Christ  caused  to  spring  forth,  at  the  period  pre-or- 
dained from  all  eternity  by  the  divine  decrees. 

But  though  the  Deitv  caused  the  Grecian  conquests 
to  be  productive  of  all  tnese  advantages  to  his  churches, 
he  did  not  consider  the  Greeks  as  less  criminal,  or  less 
deserving  of  punishment.  They  had  no  intention  to 
be  subservient  to  his  eternal  purposes  of  mercy,  and 
onlv  proposed  the  gratification  of  their  own  ambition 
ami  avarice;  but  his  wisdom  and  power  caused  their 
unjust  desires  to  be  instrumental  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  own  decrees.  It  was  indeed  extremelv  re- 
aiarkable,  as  I  have  already  intimated,  that  most  of  the 
near  relations,  and  all  the  officers  of  Alexander,  should 
be  taken  off  by  miserable  deaths.  The  Almighty 
caused  those  usurpers  to  exterminate  one  another,  and 
employed  their  own  ministration  to  punish  them  for 
the  depredations,  barbarities  and  injustice,  with  which 
they  had  harassed  so.  many  nations,  who  had  never 


injured  them,  and  whose  only  crime  consisted  in  their 
desire  to  be  free  and  not  to  acknowledge  them  lot 
their  masters. 

Fietumqve  vlciscitur  orbem. 
Tliua  did  their  crimes  avenge  llie  conquered  world 

SECTION   II. 

A  chronological  abridgement  of  the  history  contained  inthw 
•evemh  volume. 

The  partition  of  the  empire  of  Alexander  the  Great 
among  the  generals  of  that  prince,  immediately  nfter 
his  death,  did  not  subsist  for  any  length  of  time,  and 
hardly  took  place,  if  we  except  Egypt,  where  Ptole- 
my had  first  established  himself,  and  on  the  throne  of 
which  he  always  maintained  hituself  without  acknow- 
ledging any  superior. 

It  was  not  till  after  the  battle  of 
Ipsus  in  Phrygia,  wherein  Antigo-  A.  M.  3704. 
nus,  and  his  son  Demetrius,  sur-  Ant.  J.  C.  300. 
named  Poliorcetes,  were  defeated, 
and  the  former  lost  his  lite,  that  this  partition  was 
fully  regulated  and  fixed.  The  empire  of  Alexander 
was  then  divided  into  four  kingdoms,  by  a  solemn 
treaty,  as  had  been  foretold  by  Daniel.  Ptolemy  had 
Egypt,  Libya,  Arabia,  Coelesyria.and  Palestine.  Cas- 
sander,the  son  of  A ntipater,  obtained  Macedonia  and 
Greece.  Lysimachus  acquired  Thrace,  Bithynia,  and 
some  other  provinces  on  the  other  side  of  the  Helles- 
pont  and  the  Bosphorus.  And  Sele.ucus  had  Syria, 
and  all  that  part  of  the  greater  Asia  which  extended 
to  the  other  side  of  the  Euphrates,  and  as  far  as  the 
rirer  Indus. 

Of  these  four  kingdoms,  those  of  Egypt  and  Syria 
subsisted,  almost  without  any  interruption,  in  the 
same  families,  through  a  long  succession  of  princes. 
The  kingdom  of  Macedonia  had  several  masters  of 
different  families  successively.  That  of  Thrace  was 
at  last  divided  into  several  branches,  and  no  longer 
constituted  one  entire  body,  by  which  means  all  traces 
of  regular  succession  ceased  to  subsist. 

I.  The  Kingdom  of  Egypt. 

The  kingdom  of  Egypt  had  fourteen  monarchs,  in- 
cluding Cleopatra,  after  whose  death,  those  dominion* 
became  a  province  of  the  Roman  empire.  All  these 
princes  had  the  common  name  of  Ptolemy,  but  each 
of  them  was  likewise  distinguished  by  a  peculiar  sur- 
name. They  had  also  the  appellation  of  Laffides, 
from  Lagus  the  father  of  that  Ptolemy  who  reigned 
the  first  in  Egypt.  The  fifth  and  sixth  volumes  con- 
tain the  histories  of  six  of  these  kings,  and  I  shall 
give  their  names  a  place  here,  with  the  duration  of 
their  reigns,  the  first  of  which  commenced  immediate- 
ly upon  the  death  of  Alexander  ihe  Great. 
A.  M.  Ptolemy  Soter.  He  reigned  thirty-eight 

3680.         years  and  some  months. 

Ptolemy  Philadelphus.    He  reigned  forty 
3718.        years,  including  the  two  years  of  his  reign 

in  the  lifetime  of  his  father. 

3758.  Ptolemy  Euergetes,  twenty-five  years. 

3783.  Ptolemy  Philopator,  seventeen. 

3800.  Ptolemy  Epiphanes,  twenty-four. 

3824.  Ptolemy  Philometor,  thirty-four. 

II.  The  Kingdom  of  Syria. 

The  kingdom  of  Syria  had  twenty-seven  kings; 
which  makes  it  evident,  that  their  reigns  were  often 
very  short:  and  indeed  several  of  these  princes 
waded  to  the  throne  through  the  blood  of  their  pre- 
decessors. 

They  are  usually  called  the  Seleucidac,  from  Selen- 
cus,  who  reigned  the  first  in  Syria.  History  reckons 
up  six  kings  of  this  name,  and  thirteen  who  are  called 
by  that  of  Antiochus;  but  they  are  all  distinguished 
by  different  surnames.  Others  of  them  assumed  dif- 
ferent names,  and  the  last,  Antiochus  XIII.  was  sur- 
named  Epiphanes,  Asiaticus,  and  Coniniagenus.  IB 
his  reign  Pompey  reduced  Syria  into  a  Roman  pro- 
vince,after  it  had  been  governed  by  kinfs  for  the  space 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  year?,  according  to  Fnsebiua. 

The  kings  of  Syria,  ihe  transactions  of  whose  n  iirru 
are  contained  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  volumes,  are  eight 
in  number. 


PREFACE. 


39 


A.  M.  Seleucus  Nicator.     He  reigned  twenty 

3704.  years. 

3724.  Antiochus  Soter,  nineteen. 

3743.  Antiochus  Theos,  fifteen. 

3758.  Seleucus  Callinicus,  twenty. 

3778.  Seleucus  Ceraunus,  three. 

3781.  Antiochus  the  Great,  thirty-six. 

3817.  Stleucus  Philopator,  twelve. 

3829.  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  brother  of  Seleu- 
cus Philopator,  eleven. 

III.  The  Kingdom  of  Macedonia. 

Macedonia     frequently    changed    its 
A.M.  3707.     masters,  alter  the  solemn  partition  had 

been  made  between  the  (bur  princes. 
Cassander  died  three  or  four  years  after  that  partition, 
and  left  three  sons.  Philip,  the  eldest,  died  shortlv 
after  his  father.  The  other  two  contended  for  the 
crown  without  enjoying  it,  both  dying  soon  after  with- 
out issue. 

Demetrius  Poliorcetes,  Pyrrhus,  and 
A.M.  3710.     Lysiniachus  made  themselves  masters  of 

afl,  or  the  greatest  part  of  Macedonia; 
sometimes  in  conjunction,  and  at  other  times  sepa- 
rately. 

After  the  death  of  Lysimachus,  Seleu- 
A.  M.  3723.     cus  possessed  himself  of  Macedonia,  but 

did  not  long  enjov  it. 

Ptolemy  Ceraunus   having  slain   the 
A.M.  3724.     preceding- prince,  seized  the  kingdom, 

and  possessed  it  but  a  very  short  time, 
having  lost  his  life  in  a  battle  with  the  Gauls,  who 
had  made  an  irruption  into  that  country. 

Sosthenes,  who  defeated  the  Gauls, 
A.M. 3726.     reigned    but   a    short   time    in    Mace- 
donia. 

Antigonus  Gonatas,  the  son  of  Derue- 
A.M.  3728.     trius  Poliorcetes,  at  length  obtained  the 

peaceable  possession  of  the  kingdom  of 
Macedonia,  and  transmitted  it  to  his  descendants, 
alter  he  had  reigned  thirty-four  years. 

He  wag  succeeded  by  his  son  Deme- 
A.M.  3762.     trius,  who  reigned  10  years,  and  then 

died,  leaving  a  son  named  Philip,  who 
was  but  two  years  old. 

Antigonus  Doson  reigned  12  years  in 
A.M.  3772.     the  quality  of  guardian  to  the  young 

prince. 
A.M.  3784.         Philip  after  the  death  of  Antigonus, 

ascended  the  throne  at  the  age  ot  four- 
teen years,  and  reigned  something  more  than  forty. 

His  son  Perseus  succeeded  him,  and 
A.M.  3824.     reigned  about   eleven  years.     He  was 

defeated  and  taken  prisoner  by  I'aulus 
JEmilius;  and  Macedonia,  in  consequence  of  that 
victor)-,  was  added  to  the  provinces  of  the  Roman 
empire. 

IV.  The  Kingdom  of  Thrace,  and  Bithynia,  4-c. 

This  fourth  kingdom,  composed  of  several  septrate 
provinces  very  remote  from  one  another,  had  not  any 
sncc<  ><ion  of  princes,  and  did  not  long  subsist  in  its 
first  condition:  Lvsiiuarhus,  who  first  obtained  it, 
having  been  killed"  in  a  battle  afttr  a  reign  of  twenty 
years,  and  all  his  family  being  exterminated  by  as- 

assimitions,  his  dominions  were  dismembered,  and 

o  longer  constituted  one  kingdom 

SECTION  III. 

A  chronological  abridgement  of  (he  history  of  several  lesser 
kingdom*. 

Besides  the  provinces  which  were  divided  among 
the  captains  of  Alexander,  there  were  others  which 
bad  been  eAher  formed  before,  or  were  then  erecte.l, 
into  differ'. i it  states,  independent  of  the  Greeks,  whose 
poM'*r  gretrtly  increased  in  process  of  time. 

King*  of  Bithynia. 

Whilst  Alexander  was  extending  his 
A.M   30fl6.     conquests  in  the  East,  Zvpetlies  had  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  kingdom  of  Bithy-  j 


ma.  It  is  not  certain  wno  this  Zypethes  was,  unless 
that  Pausanias,1  from  his  name,  conjectures,  that  he 
was  a  Thracian.  His  successors,  however,  are  better 
known. 

JN'icomedes  I.    This  prince  invited  the 
Gauls  to  assist  him  against  his  brother,    A.  M.  3726. 
with  whom  he  was  engaged  in  a  war. 

Prusias  I. 

Prusias  II.  surnamed  the  Hunter,  in 
whose  court  Hannibal  took  refuge,  and     A.  M.  3820. 
assisted  him  with  his  counsels,  in  his  war 
against  Eumenes  II.  king  of  Pergamus, 

JVicomedes  II.  was  killed  by  his  son  Socrates. 

Aicomedes  III.  was  assisted  by  the  Romans  in  hi* 
wars  with  Mithridates,  and  bequeathed  to  them  at  his 
death  the  kingdom  of  Bithynia,  as  a  testimonial  of  his 
gratitude  to  them;  by  which  means  these  territories 
became  a  Roman  province. 

Kings  of  Pergamus. 

This  kingdom  at  first  comprehended  only  one  of 
the  smallest  provinces  of  Mysia,  on  the  coast  of  the 
^Egean  sea,  over  against  the  island  of  Lesbos. 

It  was  founded  by  Philetaerus,  a 
eunuch,  who  had  served  under  Do-        A.M.  3721. 
cimus,  a  commander  of  the  troops  of    Ant.  J.  C.  283. 
Antigonus.       Lvsimachus  conhded 
to  him  the  treasures  he  had  deposited  in  the  castle  of 
!:i^  city  of  Pergamus,  and  he  became  master  both  of 
lh«se  and  the  citv  after  the  death  of  that  prince.     He 
governed  this  little  sovereignty  for  the  space  of  twentj 
years,  and  then  left  it  to  Eumenes  his  nephew. 

Eumenes  I.   enlarged  his  princi- 
pality, by  the  addition  of  several         A.  M.  3741. 
ciiies,  which  he  took  from  the  kings     Ant.  J.  C.  263. 
of  Syria,   having    defeated   Antio- 
chus, the  son  ot  Seleucus,  in  a  battle.     He  reigned 
twenty-two  years. 

He  was  succeeded  bv  Attalus  I. 
his  cousin-german,  who  assumed  the        A.  M.  3763. 
title  of  king,  after  he  had  conquer-     Ant.  J.  C.  241. 
ed  the  Galatians;  and  transmitted 
it  to  his  posterity,  who  enjoyed  it  to  the  third  gene- 
ration.    He  assisted  the  Romans  in  their  war  with 
Philip,  and  died   after  a  reign  of  forty-three  years. 
He  left  four  sons. 

His  successor  was  Eumenes  II.  his 
eldest  son,  who  founded  the  famous        A.  M.  3807. 
library  of  Pergamus.     He  reigned     Ant.  J.  C.  197. 
thirty-nine  years,  and  left  the  crown 
to  his  brother  Attalus,  in  the  quality  of  guardian  to 
one  of  his  sons  whom  he  had  by  Stratonice,  the  sister 
of  Ariarathes  king  of  Cappadocia.     The  Romans  en- 
larged his  dominions  considerably,  after  the  victory 
they  obtained  over  Antiochus  the  Great. 

Attalus  II.   espoused   Stratonice 
his  brother's  widow,  and  took  ex-        A.  M.  3845. 
traordinary  care  of  his  nephew,  to    Ant.  J.  C.  159. 
whom  he  left  the  crown,  after  he 
had  worn  it  twentv-one  vears. 

Attalus  III.  surnamed"  Philome-        A.  M.  3866. 
tor,   distinguished    himself  by  his     Ant.  J.  C.  138. 
barbarous    and  extraordinary  con- 
duct.    He  died  after  he  had  reigned  five  years,  and 
bequeathed  his  riches  and  dominions  to  the  Romans. 

Aristonicus,  who  claimed  the  suc- 
cession, endeavoured  to  defend  his        A.M.  3871. 
pretensions  against  the  Romans,  but     Ant.  J.  C.  133. 
the  kingdom  of  Pergamus  was  re- 
duced, after  a  war  of  four  years,  into  a  Roman  province. 

Kings  of  Pontus. 

The  kingdom  of  Pontus,  in  Asia 
Minor,  was  ancientlv  dismembt-red         A.  M.  3490. 
from    the  monarchy  of  Persia,  by    Ant.  J    C.  514. 
Darius  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  in  fa- 
vour of  Artabazus,  who  is  said  by  some  historians,  to 
have  been  the  son  of  one  of  those  Persian  lords  who 
conspired  against  the  Magi. 

Pontus  is  a  region  of  Asia  Minor,  situated  partly 
along  the  coast  of  the  Euxine  sea  (Pontus  Eitx'ntis,) 

t  Lib.  v.  p.  310. 


40 


PREFACE. 


from  which  it  derives  its  name.  It  extends  from  the 
river  Halys,  as  tar  as  Colchis.  Several  princes  reign- 
ed in  that  country  since  Artabazus. 

The  sixth  monarch  was  Mithri- 

A.  M.  3600.        dates  I.  who  is  properly  considered 

Ant.  J.  C.  404.     as  the  founder  of  the  kingdom  of 

Pontus,  and  his  name  was  assumed 

by  the  generality  of  his  successors. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Ari- 
A.M.  3641.        obarzanes,  who  had  governed  Phry- 
Ant   J.  C.  263.    gia  under  Artaxerxts  Mnemon:  he 
reigned  twenty-six  years. 

His  successor  was  Mithridates  II. 
A.M.  3667.        Antigonus    suspecting,    in    conge- 
Ant  J.  C.  337.     quence  of  a  dream,  that  he  favour- 
ed Cassaruler,  had  determined   to 
destroy  him,  but  he  eluded  the  danger  by  flight.    This 
prince  was  called  KrirT*;,  or  the  Founder,  and  reigned 
thirty-five  years. 

Mithridates  III.,  who  succeeded 
A.  M.  3702.        him,  added  Cappadocia  and  Paph- 
Ant.  J.  C.  302.     lagonia  to  his  dominion,  and  reign- 
ed thirty-six  years. 

After  the  reigns  of  two  other  kings,  Mithridates 
IV.  the  great-grandfather  of  Mithridates  the  Great, 
ascended  the  throne,  and  espoused  a  daughter  of  Se- 
leucu*  Callinicus,  king  of  Syria,  by  whom  he  had 
Laodice,  who  was  married  to  Antiochus  the  Great. 

He   was   succeeded    by  his   son 

A.  M.  3819.        Pharnaces,  who  had  some  disagree- 

Ant.  J.  C.  185.     ment  with  the  kings  of  Pergamus. 

He  made  himself  master  of  Sinope, 

which  afterwards  became  the  capital  of  the  kingdom 

of  Pontus. 

After  him  reigned  Mithridates  V.,  surnamed  Euer- 
getes,  the  first  who  was  called  the  friend  of  the  Ro- 
mans, because  he  had  assisted  them  against  the  Car- 
thageuians  in  the  third  Punic  war. 

He    was   fucceeded   by  his   son 

A.  M.  3880.        Mithridates  VI.   surnamed    Eupa- 

Ant.  J.  C.  124.     tor.     This  is  the  great  Mithridates 

who  sustained  so  long  a  war  with 

the  Romans:  he  reigned  sixty -six  years. 

Kings  of  Cappadocia. 

Str&bo1  informs  us,  that  Cappadocia  was  divided 
into  two  Satrapies,  or  governments,  under  the  Per- 
sians, as  it  also  was  under  the  Macedonians.  The 
maritime  part  of  Cappadocia  formed  the  kingdom  of 
Pontus:  the  other  tracts  constituted  Cappadocia  pro- 
perly «o  called,  or  Cappadocia  Major.-wnich  extend- 
ed along  mount  Taurus,  and  to  a  great  distance  be- 
yond it. 

When  Alexander's  captains  di- 

A.M.  3682.        Tided  the  provinces  of  hi§  empire 

Ant.  J.  C.  322.     among  themselves,  Cappadocia  was 

governed  by  a  prince  named  Aria- 

rathes.     Perdiccas  attacked  and  defeated  him,  after 

which  he  caused  him  to  be  slain. 

His  son  Ariarathes  re-entered  the  kingdom  of  his 
fathe^some  time  after  this  event,  and  established  him- 
self so  effectually,  that  he  left  it  to  his  posterity. 

The  generality  of  his  successors  assumed  the  same 
name,  and  will  have  their  place  in  the  series  of  the 
history. 

Cappadocia,  after  the  death  of  Archelaus,  the  last 
of  its  kingf>,  became  a  province  of  the  Roman  empire, 
as  the  rest  of  Asia  also  did  much  about  the  same  time. 

Kings  of  Armenia. 

Armenia,  a  vast  country  of  Asia,  extending  on  each 
•ide  of  the  Euphrates,  was  conquered  by  the  Per- 
sians; after  which  it  was  transferred,  with  tire  rest  of 
the  empire,  to  the  Macedonians,  and  at  last  fell  to 
the  share  of  the  Romans.  It  was  governed  for  a 
great  length  of  time  by  its  own  kings,  the  most  con- 
siderable of  whom  was  Tigranes,  who  espoused  the 
daughter  of  the  great  Mithridates,  king  of  Pontus, 
and  was  also  engaged  in  a  long  war  with  the  Romans. 
This  kingdom  supported  itself  many  years,  between 
the  Roman  and  Parthian  empires,  sometime*  depend- 

>  Strab  I.  xii.  p.  534. 


ing  on  the  one  and  sometimes  on  the  other,  till  • 
last  the  Romans  became  its  masters. 

King*  ofEpirus 

Epirus  is  a  province  of  Greece,  separated  from 
Thessaly  and  Macedonia  by  mount  Pindus.  Th« 
most  powerful  people  of  this  country  were  the  Mo» 
lossians. 

The  kings  of  Epirus  pretended  to  derive  their  de- 
scent from  Pyrrhus,  the  son  of  Achilles,  who  estab- 
lished himself  in  that  country;  and  calltd  themselves 
jEacida1,  from  jEacus,  the  grandfather  of  Achilles. 

The  genealogy  of  the  latter  kings,  who  were  the 
only  sovereigns  of  this  country  of  whom  any  account* 
remain,  is  variously  related  by  authors,  and  conse- 
quently must  be  doubtful  and  o'bscure.2 

Arymbas  ascended  the  throne,  after  a  long  succes- 
sion of  kings;  and  as  he  was  then  vtrv  young,  the 
states  of  Epirus,  who  were  sensible  tha{  the  wt  liar* 
of  the  people  depends  on  the  proper  education  of 
their  princes,  sent  him  to  Athens,  which  was  the  resi- 
dence and  centre  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences,  in  order 
to  cultivate,  in  that  excellent  school,  such  knowledge 
as  was  necessary  to  form  the  mind  of  a  king.  He  there 
learned  the  art  of  reigning,  and  as  he  surpassed  all  his 
ancestors  in  ability  and  knowledge,  he  was  in  conse- 
quence infinitely  more  esteemed  and  beloved  by  his 
people  than  they  had  been.  When  he  returned  from 
Athens,  he  made  laws,  established  a  senate  and  ma- 
gistracy, and  regulated  the  form  of  the  government.' 

Neoptolemus,  whose  daughter  Olympias  had  es- 
poused Philip  king  of  Macedon,  attaint d  an  equal 
share  in  the  regal  government  with  Arymbas  his  eldest 
brother,  by  the  influence  of  his  son-in-law.  After  the 
death  of  Arymbas,  .iEacidas,  his  son,  ought  to  have 
been  his  successor;  but  Philip  still  had  sufficient  in 
Huence  to  procure  his  expulsion  from  the  kingdom  by 
the  Molossians,  who  established  Alexander,  the  son 
of  JVeoptoIemus,  sole  monarch  ofEpirus. 

Alexander  espoused  Cleopatra,  the  daughter  of 
Philip,  and  marched  with  an  army  into  Italy,  where 
he  lost  his  life  in  the  country  of  the  Brutians." 

jEacidas  then  ascended  the  throne,  and  reigned 
without  any  associate  in  Epirus.  He  espoused  Phthia 
the  daughter  of  Menon  the  Thcssalian,  by  whom  he 
had  two  daughters,  Deidamia  and  Troias,  and  one 
son,  the  celebrated  Pyrrhus. 

As  he  was  marching  to  the  assistance  of  Olympias, 
his  trooj*  mutinied  against  him,  condemned" him  to 
exile,  and  slaughtered  most  of  his  friends.  Pyrrhns, 
who  was  then  an  infant,  happily  escaped  this  mas- 
sacre. 

IVeoptolemus,  a  prince  of  the  blood,  bu*  whose 
particular  extraction  is  little  known,  stas  j.iaced  on 
the  throne  by  the  people  of  Epirus. 

Pyrrhus,  being  recalled  bv  nis  subjects  at  the  age 
of  twelve  years,  first  shared  the  sove  e.j,r  t/  with  Ne- 
optolemus; but  having  afterwards  duelled"  him  of  hij 
dignity,  he  reigned  alone. 

This  history  will  treat  of  the  vo- 
rious  adventures  of  »his  prince.    He        A.M.  3733. 
died  in  the  city  of  Argos,  in  an  at-     Ant.  J.  C.  '211 
tack  to  make  h'imself  master  of  it. 

Helenus,  his  son,  reigned  after  him  for  some  time 
in  Epirus,  which  was  afterwards  united  to  the  Romap 
empire. 

Tyrants  of  Heraclea. 

Heraclea  is  a  city  of  Pontus,  anciently  founded  by 
the  Boeotians,  who  sent  a  colony  into  that  country  b"' 
the  order  of  an  oracle. 

When  the  Athenians,  having  conquered  the  Pei 
sians,  had  imposed  a  tribute  on  the  cities  of  Greece 
and  Asia  Minor,  for  the  fitting  out  and  support  of  a 
fleet  intended  for  the  defence  of  the  common  libertv, 
the  inhabitants  of  Heraclea,  in  consequence  of  their 
attachment  to  the  Persians,  were  the  only  people  who 


»  Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  405.  Justin.  1.  viii.  c.  6.  Plut.  in 
Pyrrho. 

3  Cluantd  doctior  majoribui,  tanto  ct  gratior  populu  fuit 
Jvil.  I.  xvii  c.  2. 


PREFACE. 


41 


Defused  to  acq  liesce  in  so  just  a  contribution.  •  La- 
machus  was  therefore  sent  against  them,  and  he  ra- 
raged  their  territories;  but  a  violent  tempest  having 
destroyed  his  whole  fleet,  he  beheld  himself  abandon- 
ed to  the  inercv  of  that  people,  whose  innate  ferocity 
might  naturally  have  been  increased  by  the  severe 
treatment  they  had  latt-N-  received.  But  they  had 
recourse  to  no  other  vengeance  than  kindness;  they 
furnished  him  with  provisions  and  troops  for  his  re- 
turn, an. I  were  willing  to  consider  the  depredations 
which  had  been  committed  in  their  country  as  advan- 
tageous to  them,  if  at  that  price  they  could  convert 
the  enmity  of  the  Athenians  into  friendship. 2 

Some  time  alter  this  event,  the 

A.  M.  3640.  populace  of  Heraclea  excited  a  vio- 
Ant.  J.  C.  364.  lent  commotion  against  the  rich 
citizens  and  senators,  who  having 
implored  assistance  to  no  effect,  first  from  Timotheus 
the  Athenian,  and  afterwards  from  Kpaminondas  the 
Theban,  were  necessitated  to  recall  Clearchus  a  sena- 
tor to  their  defence,  whom  themst-lves  had  banished; 
but  his  exile  had  neither  improved  his  morals  nor 
rendered  him  a  better  citizen  than  he  was  before. 
He  therefore  made  the  troubles,  in  which  he  found 
the  city  involved,  subservient  to  his  design  of  sub- 
jecting; it  to  his  own  power.  With  this  view  he  open- 
ly declared  for  the  people,  caused  himself  to  be  in- 
vested with  the  highest  office  in  the  magistracy,  and 
assumed  a  sovereign  authority  in  a  short  time.  Being 
thus  bf-come  a  professed  tyrant,  there  were  no  kinds  of 
violence  to  which  he  had  "not  recourse  against  the  rich 
and  the  senators,  to  satiate  his  avarice  and  cruelty. 
He  proposed  for  his  model  Dionysius  the  Tyrant,  wh'o 
had  established  his  power  over  the  Syracusans  at  the 
game  tir.ie. 

After  a  hard  and  inhuman  servitude  of  twelve  years, 
two  young  citizens,  who  were  Plato's  disciples,  and 
had  been  instructed  in  his  maxims,  formed  a  conspi- 
racy against  Clearchus,  and  slew  him;  but  though 
they  delivered  their  country  from  the  tyrant,  tie 
tyranny  still  subsisted. 

Timotheus,  'the  son  of  Clearchus 

A.  M.  3652.        assumed  his  place,  and  pursued  hig 

Ant.  J.  C.  352.    conduct  for  the  space  of  fifteen  years. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  brother 

A.M.  3667.  Dionysius, *  who  was  in  danger  of 
Ant.  J.  C.  337.  being  dispossessed  of  his  authority 


»  Justin.  I.  xvi.  c.  3—5.    Diod.  1.  xv.  p.  3CO. 

»  Hcrarlienseg  honestiorem  beneficii,  quam  oltior.:?  occa- 
fxinem  rati,  instructrn  eommeatibus  auTJIiisqae  dimittuut; 
fceneasrorum  sucirum  populationem  imppn*&m  exu-i:m«ntei, 
n.  quo*  hostes  hnbufrant,  araicoi  reddidir«cn:.  Juttin. 

•  Diod.  1.  xvi  p.  435  «  Ibid.  p.  478. 

You  I.— 6 


by  Perdiccas;  but  as  this  last  was  soou  destroyed 
Dionysius  contracted  a  friendship  with  Antigo'nns 
whom  he  assisted  against  Ptolemy  in  the  Cypriaa 
war. 

He  espoused  Amastris,  the  widow  of  Craterus,  and 
daughter  of  Oxiathres,  the  brother  of  Darius.  This 
alliance  inspired  him  with  so  much  courage,  that  he 
assumed  t!i«-  title  of  king,  and  enlarged  his  dominions 
by  the  addition  of  several  places  which  he  seized  on 
the  confines  of  Heraclea. 

He  died  two  or  three  years  before 
the  battle  of  Ipsus,  after  a  reign  of       A.M.  3700. 
thirty-three  years,  leaving  two  sons     Ant.  J.  C.  304. 
and  a  daughter  under  the  tutelage 
and  regency  of  Amastris. 

This  princess  was  rendered  happy  in  her  adminis- 
tration, by  the  affection  Antigonus  entertained  for 
her.  She  founded  a  city,  and  called  it  by  her  own 
name;  into  which  she  transplanted  the  inhabitants  of 
three  other  cities,  and  espoused  Lysiuiaclius,  after  th« 
death  of  Antigonus.5 

Kings  of  Syracuse. 

Hiero,  and  his  son  Hieronymus,        A.  M.  3735. 
reigned  at  Syracuse ;  the  first  fifty-     Ant:  J.  C.  269. 
four   years,   the    second   but   one 
year. 

Syracuse  recovered  its  liberty  by        A.  M.  3789. 
the 'death  of  the  last,  but  continued    Ant.  J.  C    215- 
in  the  interest  of  the  Carthaginians, 
which   Hieronymus  had  caused  it        A.M.  3791. 
to  espouse.     His  conduct  obliged     Ant.  J.  C.  213. 
M&rcellus  to  form  the  siege  of  that 
citv,   which    he  took   the  following  year.     I   shall 
enlarge  upon  the  history  of  these  two  kings  in  an- 
other place. 

Other  Kings. 

Several  kings  likewise  reigned  in  the  Cimmerian 
Bosphorus,  as  also  in  Thrace,  Cvrtne  in  Africa, 
Papnlagonia,  Colchis,  Iberia,  Albania,  and  a  variety 
of  other  places;  but  their  history  is  very  uncertain, 
and  their  successions  have  but  little  regularity. 

These  circumstances  are  very  different  with  respect 
to  the  kingdom  of  the  Parthians,  who  formed  them- 
selves, as  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel,  into  such  a  pow- 
erful monarchy,  as  became  formidable  even  to  the 
Roman  empire.  That  of  the  Hadrians  received  lU 
original  about  the  same  period:  1  shall  treat  of  each 
in  their  proper  places. 


»  Diod.  L  xx.  p.  833. 
Dt 


THE 


ANCIENT  HISTORY  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


BOOK   I. 


i  •hall  divide  what  I  have  to  say  upon  the  Egyptians 
Into  three  pans.  The  first  contains  a  concise  descrip- 
tion of  the  different  parts  of  E'.-ypt,  and  of  what  is 
most  remarkable  in  it;  in  the  second  I  treat  of  the  cus- 
toms, laws  and  religion  of  the  Egyptians;  and  in  the 
third  I  give  the  history  of  their  kings. 


PART  I. 

Description  of  Egypt;  with  an  Account  of  what- 
ever is  most  curious  and  remarkable  in  that 
Country. 

EGYPT  comprehended  anciently,  within  limits 
of  no  very  great  extent,  a  prodigious  number  of 
cities.1  and  an  incredible  multitude  of  inhabitants. 

It  is  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  Red  Sea  and  the 
Isthmus  ofSuez;  on  the  south  by  Ethiopia,  on  the 
west  by  Libya,  and  on  the  north  by  the  Mediter- 
ranean. The  IS'ile  runs  from  south  to  north, 
through  the  whole  country,  about  two  hundred 
leagues  in  length.  This  country  is  enclosed  on 
each  side  with  a  ridge  of  mountains,  which  very 
often  leave,  between  the  foot  of  the  hills  and  the 
river  Nile,  a  tract  of  ground  of  not  above  half  a 
day's  journey  in  length,2  and  sometimes  less. 

On  the  west  side,  the  plain  grows  wider  in  some 
places,  end  extends  to  twenty-five  or  thirty 
leagues.  The  greatest  breadth  of  Egypt,  is  from 
Alexandria  to  Damietta,  being  about  nifty  leagues. 

Ancient  Egypt  may  be  divided  into  three 
principal  parts:  Upper  Egypt,  otherwise  called 
Thebais,  which  was  the  most  southern  part.  Mid- 
dle Egypt,  or  Heptanomis,  so  called  from  the  se- 
ven Nomi  or  districts  it  contained:  Lower  Egypt, 
which  included  what  the  Greeks  called  Delta,  and 
all  the  country  as  far  as  the  Red  Sea,  and  along 
the  Mediterranean  to  Rhinocolura,  or  mount 
Casius.  Under  Sesostris,'  all  Egypt  became  one 
kingdom,  and  was  divided  into  thirty-six  govern- 
ments of  Nomi:  ten  in  Thebais,  ten  in  Delta,  and 
sixteen  in  the  country  between  both. 

The  cities  of  Syene  and  Elephantina  divided 
Egypt  from  Ethiopia;  and  in  the  days  of  Augus- 
tus were  the  boundaries  of  the  Roman  Empire; 
Clauslra  olim  Romani Imperil,  Tacit.  Annal.  lib. 
li.  cap.  61. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THEBAIS. 

THEBES,  from  whence  Thebais  had  its  name, 
might  vie  with  the  noblest  cities  in  the  universe. 
Its  hundred  gates,  celebrated  by  Homer,4  are  uni 
versallv  known;  and  acquired  it  the  surname  of 
Hecatompvlos.  to  distinguish  it  from  the  other 
Thebes  in  rUcotia.  Its  population  was  proportion- 


1 It  is  related  that  under  Am-'gis,  there  weretwenty 
thousand  inlia''it<'d  ritirs  in  Enypt.     Herod.  I.  ii.r.  177 

2  A  day's  joiirnpj  is  twenty  four  eastern,  or  thirty 
Uirw?  Enslish  niilf«  and  a  quarter. 

»  Stralio,  I.  xvii.  p.  787.    *  Horn.  II.  i.  ver  381 


ate  to  its  extent;*  and  according  to  history,  it 
could  send  out  at  once  two  hundred  chariots  and 
ten  thousand  lighting  men  at  each  of  its  gates. 
The  Greeks  and  Romans  have  celebrated  its  mag- 
nificence and  grandeur,'  though  they  saw  it  onYy 
in  its  ruins;  so  august  were  the  remains  of  this 
city. 

In  the  Thebaid,T  now  called  Said,  have  been  dis- 
covered temples  and  palaces,  which  are  still  al- 
most entire,  adorned  with  innumerable  columns 
and  statues.  One  palace  especially  is  admired, 
the  remains  whereof  seem  to  nave  existed  purely 
to  eclipse  the  glory  of  the  most  pompous  edifices. 
Four  walks  extending  farther  than  the  eye  can 
see,  and  bounded  on  each  side  with  sphinxes, 
composed  of  materials  as  rare  and  extraordinary 
as  their  size  is  remarkable,  serve  as  avenues  to 
four  porticoes,  whose  height  is  amazing  tu  behold. 
And  even  they  who  have  given  us  the  description 
of  this  wonderful  edifice,  had  not  time  to  go  round 
it;  and  are  not  sure  that  they  saw  above  half: 
however,  what  they  had  a  sight  of  was  astonish- 
ing. A  hall,  which  in  all  appearance  stood  in 
the  middle  of  this  stately  palace,  was  supported 
by  a  hundred  and  twenty  pillars  six  fathoms 
round,  of  a  proportionable  height,  and  intermix- 
ed with  obelisks,  which  so  many  ages  have  not 
been  able  to  demolish.  Painting  had  displayed 
all  her  art  and  magnificence  in  the  edifice.  The 
colors  themselves,  which  soonest  feel  the  injury 
of  time,  still  remain  amidst  the  ruins  of  this  won- 
derful structure,  and  preserve  their  beauty  and 
lustre;  so  happily  could  the  Egyptians  imprint  a 
character  of  immortality  on  all  their  works. — 
Strabo,' who  was  on  the  spot,  describes -a  tem- 
ple he  saw  in  Egvpt,  very  much  resembling  that 
of  which  I  have  been  speaking. 

The  same  author,'  describing  the  curiosities  of 
Thebais,  speaks  of  a  very  famous  statue  of  Mem- 
non,  the  remains  whereof  he  had  seen.  It  is  said 
that  this  statue,  when  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun 
first  shone  upon  it  in  the  morning,  uttered  an  ar- 
ticulate sound.10  And  indeed  Strabo  himself  wa» 
an  ear-witness  of  this;  but  then  he  doubts  wheth- 
er the  sound  came  from  the  statue. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MIDDLE   EGYPT,  OR  HEPTANOMTS. 

MEMPHIS  was  the  capital  of  this  part  of  Egypt 
(n  thiii  city  were  to  be  seen  many  stately  tem- 
ples; among  them  that  of  the  god  Apis,  who  wa* 
honored  here  after  a  particular  manner.  I  shall 
speak  of  it  hereafter,  as  well  as  of  the  pyramid* 
which  ktood  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  place, 


6  Ptraho.  l.xvii.  p. 816.    «  Tacit.  Ann...  ii.c  60. 

7  Tl  evenofa  Travels.    8  Li',,  ivii.  p.  8Uj.    9  P  *>]6. 
'"  Geriiiaiiinis  alii*  <|iio<]iie  uiirnnilii  inten.lii    *m 

IIIIMII.  quorum  pripripna  fnere  Meimionis  vixen  elfizlea 
II'M  r,-  ill  is  soils  icta  est,  vocalcm  soiium  reddens,  ttr 
T^eit.  rfitnal.  1.  ii.c. 61. 


44 


DESCRIPTION  OF  EGYPT. 


•nd  re ndered  it  *o  famous.  Memphis  was  situated 
on  the  we-t  side  of  the  Nile. 

Grand  Cairo,1  which  seems  to  have  succeeded 
Memphis,  is  built  on  the  other  side  of  that  river. 
The  castle  of  Cairo  is  one  of  the  greatest  curiosities 
in  Eg\pt.  It  stands  on  the  hill  without  the  city, 
has  a" rock  for  its  foundation,  and  is  surrounded 
with  walls  of  a  vast  height  and  solidity.  You  go 
up  to  the  castle  by  a  way  hewn  out  of  the  rock, 
and  which  is  so  easy  of  ascent,  that  loaded  horses 
and  camels  get  up  without  difficulty.  The  great- 
est rarity  in  this  castle  is  Joseph's  well,  so  called, 
either  because  'he  Egyptians  are  pleased  with  as- 
cribing what  i»  most  remarkable  among  them  to 
that  great  man,  or  because  such  a  tradition  has 
been  preserved  in  the  country.  This  is  a  proof,  at 
least,  that  the  work  in  question  is  very  ancient; 
and  it  is  certainly  worthy  the  magnificence  of  the 
most  powerful  kings  of  Egypt.  This  well  has,  as 
it  were,  two  stories,  cut  out  of  the  solid  rock  to  a 
prodigious  depth.  The  descent  to  the  reservoir  of 
water,  between  the  two  wells,  is  by  a  staircase 
seven  or  eight  feet  broad,  consisting  of  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty  steps,  and  so  contrived,  that  the 
oxen  employed  to  throw  up  the  water,  go  down 
with  all  imaginable  ease,  the  descent  being  scarce- 
ly perceptible.  The  well  is  supplied  from  a  spring, 
which  is  almost  the  only  one  in  the  whole  country. 
The  oxen  are  continually  turning  a  wheel  with  a 
rope,  to  which  a  number  of  buckets  is  fastened. 
The  water  thus  drawn  from  the  first  and  lowermost 
well  is  conveyed  by  a  little  canal  into  a  reservoir, 
which  forms  the  second  well;  from  whence  it  is 
drawn  to  the  top  in  the  same  manner,  and  then 
conveyed  by  pipes  to  all  parts  of  the  castle.  As 
this  well  is  supposed  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  to  be  of  great  antiquity,  and  has  indeed 
much  of  the  antique  manner  of  the  Egyptians,  I 
thought  it  might  deserve  a  place  among  the  curi- 
osities of  ancient  Egypt. 

Strabo2  speaks  of  a  similar  engine,  which,  by 
wheels  and  pulleys,  threw  up  the  water  of  the  Nile 
to  the  top  of  a  very  high  hill;  with  this  difference, 
that,  instead  of  oxen,  a  hundred  and  fifty  slaves 
were  employed  to  turn  these  wheels. 

The  part  of  Egypt  of  which  we  now  speak,  is 
famous  tor  several  rarities,  each  of  which  deserves 
a  particular  examination.  I  shall  mention  only  the 
principal,  such  as  the  obelisks,  the  pyramids,  the 
labyrinth,  the  lake  of  Mceris,  and  the  Nile. 

SECTION    1.— THE  OBELISKS. 

EGYPT  seemed  to  place  its  chief  glory  in  raising 
monuments  for  posterity.  Its  obelisks  form  at  this 
day,  on  account  of  their  beauty  as  well  as  height, 
the  principal  ornament  of  Rome;  and  the  Roman 
power  despairing  to  equal  the  Egyptians,  thought 
it  honor  enough  to  borrow  the  monuments  of  their 
kings. 

An  obelisk  is  a  quadrangular,  taper,  high  spire, 
or  pyramid,  raised  perpendicularly,  and  termina- 
ting in  a  point,  to  serve  as  an  ornament  to  some 
open  square;  and  is  very  often  covered  with  in- 
scriptions or  hieroglyphics,  that  is,  with  mystical 
characters  or  symbols  used  by  the  Egyptians  to 
conceal  and  disguise  their  sacred  things,  and  the 
mysteries  of  their  theology. 

Sesostris  erected  in  the  city  of  Heliopolis  two 
obelisks  of  extreme  hard  stone,  brought  from  the 
quarries  of  Syene,  at  the  extremity  of  Egypt.3 
They  were  each  one  hundred  and  twenty  cubits 
high,  that  is,  thirty  fathoms,  or  one  hundred  and 
ei-hty  feet.«  The  emperor  Augustus,  having  made 
Egypt  a  province  of  the  empire,  caused  these  two 
obelisks  to  be  transported  to  Rome,  one  whereof 
was  afterwards  broken  to  piece*.  He  dared  not 

I  Thrvonnt.     *  Lib.  xvii.  p.  807.     »  Died.  lib.  i.  p.  37. 

•  It  in  proper  to  obwrve,  once  f>  r  all,  tbat  un  Egyptian 
eobit,  Hcronling  lo  Mr.  Grcavo,  was  one  foot  nine  inclici 
•ad  about  i  of  :ur  measure. 


venture  to  make  the  same  attempt  upon  a  third 
which  was  of  a  monstrous  size.5  It  was  miide  IB 
the  reign  of  Rameses:  it  is  said  that  twenty  thou. 
sand  men  were  employed  in  the  cutting  of  it.  Con 
stantius,  more  daring  than  Augustus,  caused  it  to 
be  removed  to  Rome.  Two  of  these,  ooelisks  ar» 
still  to  be  seen  there,  as  well  as  another  a  hundred 
cubits  or  twenty-five  fathoms  high,  and  eight  cu- 
bits, or  two  fathoms,  in  diameter.  Cains  Cirsar 
had  it  brought  from  Egypt  in  a  ship  of  so  odd  a 
form,  that  according  to  Pliny,6  the  like  had  never 
been  seen. 

Every  part  of  Egypt  abounded  with  this  kind  oi 
obelisks;  they  were  for  the  most  part  cut  in  th» 
quarries  of  Upper  Egypt,  where  some  are  now  to 
be  seen  half  finished.  But  the  most  wonderful 
circumstance  is,  that  the  ancient  Egyptians  should 
have  had  the  art  and  contrivance  to  dig  even  in  the 
very  quarry  a  canal,  through  which  the  water  oi 
the  Nile  ran  in  the  time  of  its  inundation;  from 
whence  they  afterwards  raised  up  the  columns, 
obelisks,  and  statues,  on  rafts7  proportioned  to 
their  weight,  in  order  to  convey  them  into  Lower 
Egypt.  And  as  the  country  was  intersected  every 
where  with  canals,  there  were  few  places  to  which 
those  huge  bodies  might  not  be  carried  with  ease; 
although  their  weight  would  have  broken  every 
other  kind  of  engine. 

SECTION    II.— THE  PYRAMIDS. 

A  PYRAMID  is  a  solid  or  hollow  body,8  having  a 
large  and  generally  a  square  base,  and  terminating 
in  a  point.  There  were  three  pyramids  in  Egypt 
more  famous  than  the  rest,  one  whereof  was  justly 
ranked  among  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world, 
they  stood  not  very  far  from  the  city  of  Memphis 
I  sh'all  take  notice  here  only  of  the  largest  of  the 
three.  This  pyramid,  like  the  rest,  was  built  on  a 
rock,  having  a'square  base,  cut  on  the  outside  as 
so  many  steps,  and  decreasing  gradually  quite  to 
the  summit.  It  was  built  with  stones  of  a  prodi- 
gious size,  the  least  of  which  were  thirty  feet, 
wrought  with  wonderful  art,  and  covered  with 
hieroglyphics.  Accordirg  to  several  ancient  au- 
thors, each  side  was  eight  hundred  feet  broad,  and 
as  many  high.  The  summit  of  the  pyramid,  which 
to  those  who  viewed  it  from  below,  seemed  a  point 
was  a  fine  platform,  composed  of  ten  or  twelve 
massy  stones,  and  each  side  of  the  platform  sixteen 
or  eighteen  feet  long. 

M.  de  Chazelles,  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences, 
who  went  purposely  on  the  spot  in  1693,  gives  us 
the  following  dimensions: — 

The  side  of  the  square  base  110  fathoms. 

The  fronts  are  equilateral  trian-)   ^  lOOsauare 

gles.  and    therefore   the   super- >       '•    fetfl 

tides    of   the  base  is  ) 

The  perpendicular  height  77}  fathoms. 

The  solid  contents          313,590  cubical  fathoms. 

A  hundred  thousand  men  were  constantly  employ- 
ed about  this  work,  and  were  relieved  every  three 
months  by  the  same  number.  Ten  complete  years 
were  spent  in  hewing  out  the  stones,  either  in  Ara- 
bia or  Ethiopia,  and  in  conveying  them  to  Egypt; 
and  twenty  years  more  in  building  this  immense 
edifice,  the  inside  of  which  contained  numberless 
rooms  and  apartments.  There  were  expressed  on 
the  pyramid,  in  Egyptian  characters,  the  sums  it 
cost  only  for  garlic,  leeks,  onions,  and  other  veg- 
etables of  this  description,  for  the  workmen;  &i,d 
the  whole  amounted  to  sixteen  hundred  talents  of 
silver,9  that  is.  four  millions  five  hundred  thousand 
French  livres;  from  whence  it  was  easy  to  conjee 
ture  what  a  vast  sum  the  whole  expense  must  have 
amounted  to. 

•  Plin.  I.  xTJtvi.  c.  8,  0.        •  Plin.  1.  xxxvi.  c.  9. 

'  Rafm  are  pieces  of  flat  timber  put  together,  to  carry 
mln  on  rivcr«. 

•  Hnroil.  1.  ii.  c.  121.  fee.     Di.«l.  I.  i.  p.  39.— 11.  Plio.  Ik 
xxxvi.  i:.  12.  •  About  200.0001.  sterling. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  EGYPT. 


45 


Soch  were  the  famous  Egyptian  pyramids,  which 
by  the.ir  figure,  as  well  as  size,  have  triumphed  over 
the  injuries  of  time  and  the  Barbarians.  But  what 
efforts  soever  men  may  make,  their  nothingness 
will  always  appear.  These  pyramids  were  tombs; 
and  there  is  still  to  be  seen,  In  the  middle  of  the 
largest,  an  empty  sepulchre,  rut  of  one  entire 
•tone,  about  three  feet  deep  and  broad,  and  a  little 
above  six  feet  long.1  Thus  all  this  bustle,  all  this 
expense,  and  all  the  labors  of  so  many  thousand 
men  for  so  many  years,  ended  in  procuring  for  a 
prince,  in  this  vast  and  almost  boundless  pile  of 
building,  a  little  vault  six  feet  in  length.  Besides, 
the  kings  who  built  these  pyramids  had  it  not  in 
their  power  to  be  buried  in  them;  and  so  did  not 
enjoy  the  sepulchre  they  had  built.  The  public 
hatred  which  they  incurred,  by  reason  of  their  un- 
heard of  cruelties  to  their  subjects,  in  laying  such 
heavy  tasks  upon  them,  occasioned  their  being  in- 
terred in  some  obscure  place,  to  prevent  their  bo- 
dies from  being  exposed  to  the  fury  and  vengeance 
of  the  populace. 

This  last  circumstance,2  which  historians  have 
taken  particular  notice  of,  teaches  us  what  judg- 
ment we  ought  to  pass  on  these  edifices,  so  much 
boasted  of  by  the  ancients.  It  is  but  just  to  remark 
and  esteem  the  noble  genius  which  the  Egyptians 
had  for  architecture;  a  genius  that  prompted  them 
from  the  earliest  times,  and  before  they  could  have 
any  models  to  imitate,  to  aim  in  all  things  at  the 

grand  and  magnificent;  and  to  be  intent  on  real 
eauties,  without  deviating  in  the  least  from  a  no- 
ble simplicity,  in  which  the  highest  perfection  of 
the  art  consists.  But  what  idea  ought  we  to  form 
of  those  princes,  who  considered  as  something 
grand,  the  raising  by  a  multitude  of  hantlg,  and  by 
the  help  of  money,  immense  structures,  with  the 
tole  view  of  rendering  their  names  immortal;  and 
who  did  not  scruple  to  destroy  thousands  of  their 
subjects  to  satisfy  their  vain  glory!  They  differed 
very  much  from  the  Romans,  who  sought  to  im- 
mortalize themselves  by  works  of  a  magnificent 
kind,  but,  at  the  same  time,  of  public  utility. 

Piinv3  gives  us  in  few  words,  a  just  idea  of 
these  pyramids,  when  he  calls  them  a  foolish  and 
u-el*--s  ostentation  of  the  wealth  of  the  Egyptian 
kings;  Return  pecitnia  otiosa  ac  stitlta  ottentatio: 
and  adds,  that  by  a  just  punishment  their  memory 
is  buried  in  oblivion;  the  historians  not  agreeing 
among  themselves  about  the  names  of  those  vain 
monuments;  Inter  tot  non  constat  a  quibus  facto: 
tint,  justistimo  casu  obliteratis  tantce  vanilatis 
auctoribus.  In  a  word,  according  to  the  judicious 
remark  of  Diodorus,  the  industry  of  the  archi- 
tects of  those  pyramids  is  no  less  valuable  and 
praise-worthy,  than  the  design  of  the  Egyptian 
kings  is  contemptible  and  ridiculous. 

But  what  we  should  most  admire  in  these  an- 
cient monuments,  is,  the  true  and  standing  evi- 
dence they  give  of  the  skill  of  the  Egyptians  in 
astronomy;  that  is,  in  a  science  which  seems  inca- 
pable of  being  brought  to  perfection,  but  by  a  long 
leries  of  years,  and  a  great  number  of  observations. 
M.  de  Chazelles,  when  he  measured  the  great 
pyramid  in  question,  found  that  the  four  sides  of  it 
*rere  turned  exactly  to  the  four  quarters  of  the 
world;  and  consequently  showed  the  true  meridian 
M"  that  place.  Now,  as  so  exact  a  situation  was 
in  all  probability  purposely  pitched  upon  by  those 
who  pded  up  this  huge  mass  of  stones  above  three 
thousand  years  ago,  it  follows,  that  during  so  long 
a  spare  of  time,  there  has  been  no  alteration  in 
the  heavens  in  that  respect,  or  (which  amounts  to 
the  same  thing)  in  the  poles  of  the  earth  r-r  the 
meridian*.  This  is  M.  de  Fontenelle's  remark  in 
his  eulogium  of  M.  de  Chazelles. 


i  <?tr»b^  mention*  the  teprlchre.  lib.  xrii.  p.  808. 
•  Diod.  lib.  i.  p.  40.  •  Lib.  xxxvi.  cap.  12. 


SECTION  III.— THE  LABYRINTH 
WHAT  has  been  said  concerning  the  judgment 
we  ought  to  form  of  tlie  pyramids,4  may  also  be  ap- 
plied to  the  labyrinth,  which  Herodotus,  wno  saw 
it,  assures  us  was  still  more  surprising  than  the 
pyramids.  It  was  built  at  the  southern  extremity 
of  the  lake  of  Moeria,  whereof  mention  will  be 
made  presently,  near  the  town  of  Crocodiles,  the 
same  with  Aisinoe.  It  was  not  so  much  one  single 
palace,  as  a  magnificent  pile  composed  of  twelve 
palaces,  regularly  disposed,  which  had  a  commu- 
nication with  each  other.  Fifteen  hundred  rooms, 
interspersed  with  terraces,  were  ranged  round 
twelve  halls,  and  discovered  no  outlet  to  such  as 
went  to  see  them.  There  was  the  like  number  of 
buildings  under  ground.  These  subterraneous 
structures  were  designed  for  the  burying-place  of 
the  kings,  and  also  (who  can  speak  this  without 
deploring  the  blindness  of  man!)  for  keeping  the 
sacred  crocodiles,  which  a  nation,  so  wise  in  other 
respects,  worshipped  as  gods. 

In  order  to  visit  the  rooms  and  halls  of  the  laby- 
rinth, it  was  necessary,  as  the  reader  will  naturally 
suppose,  for  people  to  take  the  same  precaution  at 
Ariadne  made  Theseus  use,  when  he  was  obliged 
to  go  and  fight  the  Minotaur  in  the  labyrinth  of 
Crete.  Virgil  describes  it  in  this  manner: 

Ut  quondam  Crcta  fertur  lahyrinthu*  in  alta 
Parictilius  textum  rn-rii  iter  ancipitemqae 
Mille  viis  habuiivc  doluin,  qua  sijina  gequendi 
Fallen1!  in<li'|ir«Mi--us  >'t  irremeabilin  errur.  • 
Hie  labor  ille  iliniius,  et  inextricabilis  error. 
Dirdulu*,  ipse  dolos  tecti  ambagegque  resolrit, 
Cseca  regens  filo  vestigia.  • 

And  as  the  Cretan  labyrinth  of  old, 

With  wand'ring  ways,  and  many  a  winding  fold, 

Involved  the  weary  feet  without  redrew, 

In  a  round  error,  which  deny'd  recess: 

Not  Tar  from  thence  he  graved  the  wondrous  maze; 

A  thousand  doors,  a  thousand  winding  ways. 

SECTION    IV.  — THE    LAKE  OF  MCERIS. 

THE  noblest  and  most  wonderful  of  all  the  struc- 
tures or  works  of  the  kings  of  Egypt,  was  the  Jake 
of  Mceris:7  accordingly,  Herodotus  considers  it  as 
vastly  superior  to  the  pyramids  and  labyrinth.     Ai 
Egypt  was  more  or  less  fruitful  in  proportion  to 
the  inundations  of  the  Nile;  and  as  in  these  floods, 
the   too   great  or  too   little  rise  of  the  waters  was 
equally    fatal  to  the  lands,  king  Mceris,  to   prevent 
these  two  inconveniences,  and    to  correct,  as   far 
as  lay  in  his   power,  the  irregularities  of  the  Nile, 
thought  proper  to  call  art  to  the  assistance  of  na- 
ture; and  so  caused  the  lake  to  be  dug,  which  af- 
terwards   went   by    his  name.      This    lake   was  in 
circumference   about  three  thousand  six   hundred 
stadia,8    that   is,    about   one   hundred    and    eighty 
French  leagues,  and  three  hundred  feet  deep.  Two 
pyramids,  on   each  of  which  was  placed  a  colossal 
statue  on  a  throne,  raised  their  heads  to  the  height 
of  three   hundred    feet,  in   the   midst  of  the   lake, 
whilst  their  foundations   took  up  the  same  space 
under  the  water;  a  proof  that  they  were  erected 
]  before   the  cavity  was  tilled,  and  a  demonstration 
{  that  a  lake  of  such   vast  extent  was  the  work  of 
man's  hands  in  one  prince's  reign.     This  is  what 
I  several  historians  have  related  concerning  the  lake 
I  Moeris,  on  the  testimony  of  the   inhabitants  of  the 
I  country.     And  M.  Bossuet,  the  bishop  of  Meaux, 
.  in   his  discourse  on  universal  history,   relates  the 
whole  as  fact.     For  my  part,  I  will  confess  that  I 
i  do  not  see  the   least  probability  in  it.     Is  it  possi- 
ble to  conceive,  that  a  lake  of  a  hundred  and  eighty 
leagues  in  circumference,  could    have  been   dug  in 
,  the    reign  of  one  prince?     In  what  manner,  and 


«  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  148.     Diod.  1.  i.  p.  42.     Plin.  I.  xxxvi.  r. 
13.     Strab.  1.  xvii.  p.  811. 

•  ./Eneid.  1.  v.  ver.  588.  &.e.      •  jEneid.  1.  vi.  rrr.  27.  ILC 
'  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  140.      Strabo.  1.  ivii.  p.  7e7.     Diod.  I.  u 

p.  47.     Plin.  1.  v.  c.  0.     Pomp.  Mela,  I.  i. 

•  V  de  Herod,  et  Diod.     Pliny  agrees  almost  with  ttea 


46 


DESCRIPTION  OF  EGYPT. 


wheif,  could  the  earth  taken  from  it  be  conveyed? 
What  should  prompt  the  Egyptians  to  lose  the  sur- 
face of  so  much  land?  By  what  arts  could  they 
fill  this  vast  tract  with  thi  superfluous  waters  of 
the  Nile?  Many  other  objections  might  be  made. 
In  my  opinion,  therefore,  we  ought  to  follow  Poni- 
ponius  Mela,  an  ancient  geographer;  especially 
as  his  account  is  confirmed  by  several  modern  trav- 
elers. According  to  that  author,  this  lake  is  but 
twenty  thousand  paces,  that  is,  seven  or  eight 
French  leagues  in  circumference.  Mceris,  aliquan- 
do  campus,  mine  lacus,  viginti  millia  passuum  in 
circuit u  patens.1 

This  lake  had  a  communication  with  the  Nile, 
by  a  great  canal,  more  than  four  leagues  long,2  and 
fifty  feet  broad.  Great  sluices  either  opened  or 
•hut  the  canal  and  lake,  as  there  was  occasion. 

The  charge  of  opening  or  shutting  them  amoun- 
ted to  fifty  talents,  that  is,  fifty  thousand  French 
crowns.3  The  fishing  of  this  lake  brought  the 
monarch  immense  sums;  but  its  chief  utility  real- 
ted  to  the  overflowing  of  the  Nile.  When  it  rose 
too  high,  and  was  like  to  be  attended  with  fatal 
consequences,  the  sluices  were  opened,  and  the 
waters,  having  a  free  passage  into  the  lake,  cover- 
ed the  lands  no  longer  than  was  necessary  to  enrich 
them.  On  the  contrary,  when  the  inundation  was 
too  low,  and  threatened  a  famine,  a  sufficient  quan- 
tity of  water,  by  the  help  of  drains,  was  let  out  of 
the  lake,  to  water  the  lands.  In  this  manner  the 
irregularities  of  the  Nile  were  corrected;  and 
Strabo  remarks,  that,  in  his  time,  under  Petronius, 
a  governor  of  Egypt,  when  the  inundation  of  the 
Nile  was  twelve  cubits,  a  very  great  plenty  en- 
sutd ;  and  even  when  it  rose  but  to  eight  cubits, 
the  dearth  was  scarce  felt  in  the  country;  doubt- 
less because,  the  waters  of  the  lake  made  up  for 
those  of  the  inundation,  by  the  help  of  canals  and 
drains. 

SECTION  V.  —  THE  INUNDATIONS  OF  THE  NILE. 

THE  Nile  is  the  greatest  wonder  of  Egypt.  As 
it  seldom  rains  there,  this  river,  which  waters  the 
whole  country  by  its  regular  inundations,  supplies 
that  defect,  by  bringing,  as  a  yearly  tribute,  the 
rains  of  other  countries;  which  made  a  poet  say 
ingeniously,  The  Egyptian  pastures,  how  great 
soever  the  drought  may  be,  never  implore  Jupiter 
for  rain: 

Te  proptcr  nullns  tollus  tua  postulat  imbrei 
Aridu  nee  pluvio  supplicat  herba  Jovi.  • 

To  multiply  so  beneficent  a  river,  Egypt  was  cut 
into  numberless  canals,  of  a  length  and  breadth 
proportioned  to  the  different  situations  and  wants 
of  the  lands.  The  Nile  brought  fertility  every 
where  with  its  salutary  streams;  united  cities  one 
with  one  another,  and  the  Mediterranean  with  the 
Red  Sea;  maintained  trade  at  home  and  abroad, 
and  fortified  the  kingdom  against  the  enemy;  so 
that  it  was  at  once  the  nourisher  and  protector  of 
Egypt. 

The  fields  were  delivered  up  te  it;  but  the  cities 
that  were  raised  with  immense  labor,  and  stood  like 
islands  in  the  midst  of  the  waters,  looked  down 
with  joy  on  the  plains  which  were  overflowed,  and 
at  the  same  time  enriched,  by  the  Nile. 

This  is  a  general  idea  of  the  nature  and  effects 
of  this  river,  so  famous  among  the  ancients.  But 
a  wonder  so  astonishing  in  itself,  and  which  has 
been  the  object  of  the  curiosity  and  admiration  of  the 
learned  in  all  ages,  seems  to  require  a  more  par- 
ticular description,  in  which  I  shall  be  as  concise  as 
possible. 

1.  The  Sources  of  the  JYile. 

The  ancients  placed  the  sources  of  the  Nile  in 
the  mountains  of  the  moon  (as  they  are  common- 


i  Mela,  l.i.      •  Eighty-five  stadia.       •  1J,2501.  sterling. 
•  Seneca  (JVat.  Quirst.  \.  iv.  c.  2.)  ascribes  theso  verses 
to  Ovid,  but  they  are  Tibullus's. 


ly  called,)  in  the  tenth  degree  of  south  latitude. 
But  our  modern  travelers  have  discovered  that 
they  lie  in  the  twelfth  degree  of  north  latitude, 
and  by  that  means  they  cut  off  about  four  or  five 
hundred  leagues  of  the  course  which  the  ancients 
gave  that  river.  It  rises  at  the  foot  of  a  great 
mountain  in  the  kingdom  of  Gojam  in  Abyssinia, 
from  two  springs,  or  eyes,  to  speak  in  the  language 
of  the  country,  the  same  word  in  Arabic  signifying 
eye  and  fountain.  These  springs  are  thirty  paces 
from  one  another,  each  as  large  as  one  of  our  wella 
or  a  coach  wheel.  The  Nile  is  increased  with  many 
rivulets  which  run  into  it;  and  after  passing  through 
Ethiopia  in  a  very  winding  course,  flows  at  last 
into  Lgypt. 

2.   The  Cataracts  of  the  Nile. 

This  name  is  given  to  some  parts  of  the  Nile, 
where  the  water  falls  down  from  the  steep  rocks. 
This  river,  which  at  first  glided  smoothly  along 
the  vast  deserts  of  Ethiopia,  before  it  enters  Egypt, 
passes  by  the  cataracts.  Then  growing  on  a  sud- 
den, contrary  to  its  nature,  raging  and  violent  in 
those  places  where  it  is  pent  up  and  restrained; 
after  having  at  last  broken  through  all  obstacles  in 
its  way,  it  precipitates  itself  from  the  top  of  some 
rocks  to  the  bottom,  with  so  loud  a  noise,  that  it  is 
heard  three  leagues  off. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  country,  accustomed  by 
long  practice  to  this  sport,  exhibit  here  a  spectacle 
to  travelers  that  is  more  terrifying  than  diverting. 
Two  of  them  go  into  a  little  boat,  the  one  to  guide 
it,  the  other  to  throw  out  the  water.  After  hav- 
ing long  sustained  the  violence  of  the  raging  waves 
by  managing  their  little  boat  very  dexterously, 
they  suffer  themselves  to  be  carried  away  with  the 
impetuous  torrent  as  swift  t»s  an  arrow.  The  af- 
frighted spectator  imagines  they  are  going  to  b« 
swallowed  up  in  the  precipice  down  which  they 
fall;  when  the  Nile,  restored  to  its  natural  course, 
discovers  them  again,  at  a  considerable  distance, 
on  its  smooth  and  calm  waters.  This  is  Seneca's, 
account,5  which  is  confirmed  by  our  modern  travel 
ers. 

3.  Causes  of  the  Inundations  of  the  JVY'/e. 

The  ancients6  have  invented  many  subtle  reasons 
for  the  Nile's  great  increase,  as  may  be  seen  in 
Herodotus,  Diodorus  Siculus,  and  Seneca.  But 
it  is  now  no  longer  a  matter  of  dispute,  it  be- 
ing almost  universally  allowed,  that  the  inunda- 
tions of  the  Nile  are  owing  to  the  great  rams 
which  fall  in  Ethiopia,  from  whence  this  river  flows. 
These  rains  swell  it  to  such  a  degree,  that  Ethio- 
pia first,  and  then  Egypt,  are  overflowed ;  and  that 
which  at  first  was  but  a  large  river,  rises  like  a  sea, 
and  overspreads  the  whole  country. 

Strabo  observes7  that  the  ancients  only  guessed 
that  the  inundations  of  the  Nile  were  owing  to  the 
rains  which  fall  in  great  abundance  in  Ethiopia; 
but  adds,  that  several  travelers  have  since  been 

>  Excipiunt  eum  (Nilum)  cataracts,  nobilis  insigniBpoe- 
taculo  locus. — Illic  excitatis  primum  aquis,  quas  sine  tu- 
multu  leni  alveo  duxcrat,  violrntus  et  torrons  per  malirno* 
transitus  prusilil,  dissirnijis  sibi — tttndemque  eluctatus  ob- 
stantia,  in  vastnm  altitudinem  subito  destitutuscadit,  cun 
ingenti  circumjacentium  regionum  strepitu;  quern  perfer- 
re  gens  ibi  a  Pereis  collocata  nun  potuit,  obtusis  assiduo 
fra<rore  auribus,  et  ob  hoc  sedibus  ad  quietiora  tran.-lati» 
Inter  mirarula  fluminis  incredibilem  incolarum  audaciam 
accepi.  Bini  ptirvula  navigia  conscendunt,  quorum  altei 
navem  regit,  alter  exhaurit.  Deinde  nmltnin  inter  rapi- 
dam  insaniam  Nili  et  reciprocog  fluctun  volutati,  tandem 
tenuissimos  canales  tenent,  per  quos  aniiusta  rupium  effu- 
giunt:  et  cum  toto  flumine  effusi  navi™ium  ruens  mam 
temperant,  magnoque  spectantium  metu  in  capul  nixi,  run 
jam  adploraveris,  mersosque  atque  obrutos  tantn  mole  era- 
diderU,  longe  ab  eo  iti  quem  ceciderant  loco  nerignr.1.  tor 
menti  modo  missi.  Nee  merjrit  cadens  unda,  ced  pianift 
aquis  tradit.  Senee.  Nat.  Ouirst.  1.  iv.  c.  2. 

•  Herod.  I.  ii.  c.  19—27.  l)iod.  1.  i  >.  35—39.  Senee. 
Nat  Uuirst.  I.  iv.  c.  1  &  2. 

'  Lib.  xvii.  p.  789. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  EGYPT. 


47 


eye-witnesses  of  it;  Ptolemy  Philadelphia,  who 
was  very  curious  in  all  things  relating  to  arts  and 
sciences,  having  sent  thither  able  persons,  purpose- 
}•  to  examine  this  matter,  and  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  so  uncommon  and  remarkable  an  effect. 
4.  The  Time  and  Continuance  of  the  Inundation*. 

Herodotus.1  and  after  him  Diodorus  Siculus,  and 
several  other  authors,  declare,  that  the  Nile  begins 
to  swell  in  Egypt  at  the  summer  solstice,  that  is, 
about  the  end  of  June,  and  continues  to  rise  till  the 
end  of  September;  and  thendecreages  gradually  du- 
ring the  months  of  October  and  November;  after 
which  it  returns  to  itschannel.and  resumes  its  wont- 
ed course.  This  account  agrees  very  nearly  with  the 
relations  of  all  the  moderns,  and  is  founded  in  reali- 
ty on  the  natural  cause  of  the  inundation,  viz.  the 
rains  which  fall  in  Ethiopia.  Now,  according  to 
the  constant  testimony  of  those  who  have  been  on 
the  spot,  these  rains  begin  to  fall  in  the  month  of 
April,  and  continue,  during  five  months,  till  the 
end  of  August  and  beginning  of  September.  The 
Nile's  increase  in  Egypt  must,  consequently,  begin 
three  weeks  or  a  month  after  the  rains  have  be- 
gun to  fall  in  Abyssinia;  and  accordingly  travel- 
ers observe,  that  the  Nile  begins  to  rise  in  the 
month  of  May,  but  so  slowly  at  the  first,  that  it 
probably  does  not  yet  overflow  its  banks.  The  in- 
undation happens  not  till  about  the  end  of  June, 
and  lasts  the  three  following  months,  according  to 
Herodotus. 

I  must  point  out  to  such  as  consult  the  originals, 
a  contradiction  in  this  place  between  Herodotus 
and  Diodorus  on  one  side;  and  between  Strabo, 
Pliny,  and  Solinus,  on  the  other.  These  last  shor- 
ten very  much  the  continuance  of  the  inundation; 
and  suppose  the  NiU  to  draw  off  from  the  lands 
in  three  months  or  a  hundred  days.  And  what 
adds  to  the  difficulty,  is,  that  Hinv  seems  to  ground 
his  opinion  on  the  testimony  of  Herodotus:  In  to- 
turn  autem  revocatur  JVilui  infra  ripus  in  Libra,  ut 
tradit  Herodotus,  centesitno  die.  I  leave  to  the 
learned  the  reconciling  of  this  contradiction. 

5.     The  height  of  the  Inundation*. 

The  just  height  of  the  inundation,*  according  to 
Pliny,  is  sixteen  cubits.  When  it  rises  but  to 
twelve  or  thirteen,  a  famine  is  threatened;  and 
when  it  exceeds  sixteen,  there  is  danger.  It  must 
be  remembered,  that  a  cubit  is  a  foot  and  a  half. 
The  emperor  Julian  takes  notice,3  in  a  letter  to 
Ecdicius,  prefect  of  Egypt,  that  the  height  of  the 
Nile's  overflowing  was  fifteen  cubits,  the  20th  of 
September,  in  362.  The  ancients  do  not  agree  en- 
tirely with  one  another,  nor  with  the  moderns, 
with  regard  to  the  height  of  the  inundation;  but 
the  difference  is  not  very  considerable,  and  may 
proceed,  1.  from  the  disparity  between  the  an- 
cient and  modern  measures,  wliich  it  U  hard  to  es- 
timate on  a  fixed  and  certain  foot;  2.  from  the 
carelessness  of  the  observers  and  historians;  3. 
from  the  real  difference  of  the  Nile's  increase, 
which  was  not  so  great  the  nearer  it  approached 
the  sea. 

As  the  riches  of  Egypt  depended  on  the  inunda- 
tion of  the  Nile,*  all  the  circumstances  and  differ- 
ent degrees  of  its  increase  had  been  carefully  con- 
sidered; and  by  a  long  series  of  regular  observa- 
tions, made  during  many  years,  the  inundation  it- 
lelf  discovered  what'kind  of  harvest  the  ensuing 
fear  was  likely  to  produce.  The  kings  had  placed 
»t  Memphis  a  measure  on  which  these  different  in- 


»  Herod.  I.  ii.  c.  19.     Diod.  I.  i.  p.  32. 

•  Justum  incrementum  est  cubiiorura  xvi.  Minoren  aque 
aon  omnia  risant  :  amplioret  detinent   tardius   recedendo. 
He  serendi  tempera  al>«<imunt  colo  madente  ;  ilUe  non  dant 
iitiente.     Utrumque  reri,tat  provincia.     In  duodecira  cu- 
bitis  fanvm  .wntit,  in  irederim  etiamnum  esurit ;  quatnor- 
decim  rnbita  hilmitatem  efferunt,  quindecim  Kcuritatem, 
•ex  jec-im  delicias.     Plin.  1.  T.  c.  9. 

•  Jnl.  Spirt.  50  4  Diod.  I.  i.  p.  33. 


creases  were  remarked;  and  from  tht-nce  notice 
was  given  to  all  the  rest  of  Egypt,  the  inhabitant! 
of  which  knew,  by  that  means,  beforehand,  what 
they  might  vfear  or  promise  themselves  from  the 
harvest.  Strabo5  speaks  of  a  well  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile  near  the  town  of  Syene,  made  for  that  purpose 

The  same  custom  is  observed  to  this  day  nt 
j  Grand  Cairo.  In  the  court  of  a  mosque  there 
stands  a  pillar,  on  which  are  marked  the  degrees 
of  the  Nile's  increase;  and  common  criers  every 
day  proclaim  in  all  parts  of  the  citv  how  high  it  in 
risen.  The  tribute  paid  to  the  Grand  Seignior  for 
the  lands,  is  regulated  by  the  inundation.  The 
day  on  which  it  rises  to  a  certain  height,  is  kept  as 
a  grand  festival,  and  solemnized  with  fire-works, 
feastings,  and  all  the  demonstrations  of  public  re- 
joicing; and  in  the  remotest  ages,  the  overflowing 
of  the  Nile  was  always  attended  with  a  universal 
joy  throughout  all  Egypt,  that  being  the  fountain 
of  its  happiness. 

The  heathens  ascribed  the  inundation  of  the 
Nile  to  their  god  Serapis;6  and  the  pillar  on  which 
was  marked  the  increase,  was  preserved  religiously 
in  the  temple  of  that  idol.  The  emperor  Constan- 
tine  having  ordered  it  to  be  removed  into  the 
church  of  Alexandria,  the  Egyptians  spread  a  re- 
port, that  the  Nile  would  rise  no  more  by  reason 
of  the  wrath  of  Serapis;  but  the  river  overflowed 
and  increased  as  usual  the  following  years.  Julian 
the  apostate,  a  zealous  protector  ot  idolatry,  caus- 
ed this  pillar  to  be  replaced  in  the  same  temple, 
out  of  which  it  was  again  removed  by  the  com- 
mand of  Theodosius. 

6.     The  Canals  of  the  JVYJe  and  Spiral  Pumps. 

Divine  Providence,  in  giving  so  beneficent  a  riv- 
er to  Egypt,  did  not  thereby  intend  that  the  inhab- 
itants of  it  should  be  idle,  and  enjoy  so  great  a 
blessing  without  taking  any  pains.  One  may  nat- 
urally suppose,  that  as  the  Nile  could  nut  of  itself 
cover  the  whole  country,  great  labor  was  to  be 
used  to  facilitate  the  overflowing  of  the  lands;  and 
numberless  canals  cut,  in  order  to  convey  the  wa- 
ters to  all  parts.  The  villages,  which  stand  very 
thick  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  on  eminences,  have 
each  their  canals,  which  are  opened  at  proper 
times,  to  let  the  water  into  the  country.  The 
more  distant  villages  have  theirs  also,  even  to  the 
extremities  of  the  kingdom.  Thus  the  waters  are 
successively  conveyed  to  the  most  remote  places. 
Persons  are  not  permitted  to  cut  the  trenches  to  re- 
ceive the  waters,  till  the  river  is  at  a  certain  height; 
nor  to  open  them  all  at  once;  because  otherwise 
some  lands  would  be  too  much  overflowed,  and 
others  not  covered  enough.  They  begin  with  open- 
ing them  in  Upper,  and  afterwards  in  Lower  Egypt, 
according  to  the  rules  prescribed  in  a  roll  or  book, 
in  which  all  the  measures  are  exactly  set  down. 
By  this  means  the  water  is  husbanded  with  such 
care,  that  it  spreads  itself  over  all  the  lands.  The 
countries  overflowed  by  the  Nile  are  so  extensive, 
and  lie  so  low,  and  the  number  of  canals  so  grea', 
that  of  all  the  waters  which  flow  into  E^ypt  during 
the  months  of  June,  July,  and  August,  it  is  believ- 
ed that  not  a  tenth  part  of  them  reaches  the  sea. 

But  as,  notwithstanding  all  these  canals,  there 
are  still  abundance  of  high  lands  which  cannot 
receive  the  benefit  of  the  Nile's  overflowing;  this 
want  is  supplied  by  spiral  pumps,  which  are  turn- 
ed by  oxen,  in  order  to  bring(the  water  into  pipes, 
which  convey  it  to  these  lands.  Diodorus''  speaks 
of  a  similar  engine  invented  by  Archimedes  in  his 
travels  into  Egypt,  which  "is  called  Cochlea 


7.     The  fertility  canted  by  the  A'ile. 

There  is  no  country  in  the  world  where  the  soil 
is  more  fruitful  than  in  Egypt;  which  is  owing  eu- 


•  Lib.  xvii.  p.  817.      <  Socrat.  1.  i.  e   18.  Sozom.  1.  T.  e.  3. 


i  Lib.  xvii.  p.  M7.       <  Hocrat.  I.  : 
'  Lib.  i.  p.  30.  and  Lib.  v.  p.  213. 


48 


DESCRIPTION  OF  EGYPT. 


lirely  to  the  Nile.1  For  whereas  other  rivers,  when 
they  overflow  lands,  wash  away  and  exhaust  their 
vivific  moisture;  the  Nile,  on  the  contrary,  by  the 
excellent  slime  it  brings  along  with  it,  fattens  and 
enriches  them  in  such  a  manner,  as  sufficiently 
compensates  for  what  the  foregoing  harvest  had 
impaired.  The  husbandman,  in  this  country,  nev- 
er tires  himself  with  holding  the  plough,  or  break- 
ing the  clods  of  earth.  As  soon  as  the  Nile  re- 
tires, he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  turn  up  the 
earth,  and  temper  it  with  a  little  sand,  in  order 
to  lessen  its  rankness;  after  which  he  sows  it  with 
great  ease,  and  with  little  or  no  expense.  Two 
months  after  it  is  covered  with  all  sorts  of  corn 
and  pulse.  The  Egyptians  generally  sow  in  Octo- 
ber and  November,  according  as  the  waters  draw 
off:  and  their  harvest  is  in  March  and  April. 

The  same  land  bears,  in  one  year,  three  or  four 
different  kinds  of  crops.  Lettuces,  and  cucumbers 
are  sown  first;  then  corn;  and,  after  harvest,  sev- 
eral sorts  of  pulse  which  are  peculiar  to  Egypt. 
As  the  sun  is  extremely  hot  in  this  country,  and 
rains  fall  verv  seldom  in  it,  it  is  natural  to  suppose 
that  the  earth  would  soon  be  parched,  and  the  corn 
and  pulse  burnt  up  by  so  scorching  a  heat,  were  it 
not  for  the  canals  and  reservoirs  with  which  Egypt 
abounds;  and  which,  by  the  drains  from  thence, 
amply  supply  wherewith  to  water  and  refresh  the 
fields  and  gardens. 

The  Nile  contributes  no  less  to  the  nourishment 
of  cattle,  which  is  another  source  of  wealth  to 
Egypt.  The  Egyptians  begin  to  turn  them  out  to 
grass  in  November,  and  they  graze  till  the  end  of 
March.  Words  could  never  express  how  rich 
their  pastures  are;  and  how  fat  the  flocks  and  herds 
(whicn,  by  reason  of  the  mildness  of  the  air,  are 
out  night  and  day)  grow  in  a  very  little  time.  Du- 
ring the  inundation  of  the  Nile,  they  are  fed  with 
hay  and  cut  straw,  barley  and  beans,  which  are 
their  common  food. 

A  man  cannot,  says  Corneille  de  Bruyn  in  his 
Travels,2  help  observing  the  admirable  providence 
of  God  towards  this  country,  who  sends  at  a  fixed 
season  such  great  quantities  of  rain  in  Ethiopia,  is 
order  to  water  Egypt,  where  a  shower  of  rain 
scarce  ever  falls;  and  who,  by  that  means,  causes 
the  driest  and  most  sandy  soil  to  become  the  rich- 
est and  most  fruitful  country  in  the  universe. 

Another  thing  to  be  observed  here,  is  that  (as 
the  inhabitants  say)  in  the  beginning  of  June  and 
the  four  following  months  the  north-east  winds 
blow  constantly,  in  order  to  keep  back  the  waters, 
which  otherwise  would  draw  off  too  fast;  and  to 
hinder  them  from  discharging  themselves  into  the 
sea,  the  entrance  to  which  these  winds  bar  up,  as 
it  were,  from  them.  The  ancients  have  not  omit- 
ted this  circumstance. 

The  same  Providence,  whose  ways  are  wonder- 
ful and  infinitely  various,8  displayed  itself  alter  a 
quite  different  manner  in  Palestine,  in  rendering  it 
exceeding  fruitful;  not  by  rains,  which  fall  during 
the  course  of  the  year,  as  is  usual  in  other  places; 
nor  by  a  peculiar  inundation,  like  that  of  the  Nile 
in  Egypt;  but  by  sending  fixed  rains  at  two  sea- 
sons, when  his  people  were  obedient  to  him,  to 
make  them  more  sensible  of  their  continual  depen- 
dence upon  him.  God  himself  commands  them, 
by  his  servant  Moses,  to  make  this  reflection:  The 
land  whither  thou  goest  in  to  possets  it,  is  not  as 
the  land  of  Egypt,  from  whence  ye  came  out,  where 
thnu  sowedst  thy  seed,  and  wateredst  it  with  thy 
fuot,  as  a  garden  of  herbs:  but  the  land  whither 
ye  go  to  possess  it,  is  a  land  of  hills  and  valleys, 
and  drinlceth  water  of  the  rain  of  heaven.*  After 


i  Cum  caeteri  amnes  abluant  terras  et  eviscerent;  Nilqs 
ail"i>  niliil  exi-dit  nee  abradit,  nt  contra  ndjiriat  rires. — Ita 
juv»t  a^ros  dunbu*  ex  causis,  et  quod  inundat,  et  quod  ob- 
limat.  Senec.  Jfat.  Qwrst.  1.  iv.  c.  2. 

*  Vol.  ii.  *  Multiformii  sapi.;ntia.     Eph.  iii.  10. 

•  Deut.  xi.  10—13. 


this,  God  promises  to  give  his  people,  so  long  al 
they  shall  continue   obedient  to  him,   the  former 
and  the  latter  rain:  the  first  in  spring,  to  bring  up 
the  corn;  and   the  second  in  the  summer  and  liar 
vest,  to  make  it  grow  and  ripen. 

8.   The  different  Prospec.ti  exhibited  by  tne  «Arii«. 

There  cannot  he  a  finer  sight  than  Egypt  at  two 
seasons  of  the  year.  5For  if  a  man  ascends  some 
mountain,  or  one  of  the  largest  pyramids  of  Grand 
Cairo,  in  the  months  of  July  and  August,  tie  be- 
holds a  vast  sea,  in  which  numberless  towns  and 
villages  appear,  w'th  several  causeys  leading  from 
place  to  place;  the  whole  interspersed  with  grove* 
and  fruit-trees,  whose  tops  only  are  risible;  M 
which  forms  a  delightful  prospect.  This  view  11 
bounded  by  mountains  and  woods,  which  termin- 
ate, at  the  utmost  distance  the  «-,ye  can  discover, 
the  most  beautiful  horizon  that  can  be  imagined. 
*On  the  contrary,  in  winter,  that  is  to  say  in  the 
months  of  January  and  February,  the  whole  coun- 
try is  like  one  continued  scene  of  beautiful  mea 
dows,  whose  verdure,  enamelled  with  flowers, 
charms  the  eye.  The  spectator  beholds  on  every 
side,  flocks  and  herds  dispersed  over  all  the  plains, 
with  infinite  numbers  of  husbandmen  and  garden- 
ers. The  air  is  then  perfumed  by  the  great  quan- 
tity of  blossoms  on  the  orange,  lemon  and  other 
trees,  and  is  so  pure,  that  a  wholesomer  or  more 
agreeable  is  not  found  in  the  world  ;  so  that  nature, 
being  then  dead,  as  it  were,  in  all  other  climates, 
seems  to  be  alive  only  for  so  delightful  an  abode. 

9.  The  Canal  formed  by  the  Jfile,  by  which  a 
Communication  is  made  between  the  tico  Seas. 
6The  canal,  by  which  a  communication  was  made 
between  the  Red  Sea  and  the  Mediterranean, 
ought  to  have  a  place  here, -as  it  was  not  of  the 
least  advantages  which  the  Nile  procured  to 
Egypt.  Sesostris,  or,  according  to  others,  Psam- 
metichus,  first  projected  the  design,  and  began 
this  work.  Necho,  successor  to  »!.~  last  prince, 
laid  out  immense  sums  upon  it,  and  employed  » 
prodigious  number  of  men.  It  is  said,  that  above 
six  score  thousand  Egyptians  perished  in  the  un- 
dertaking. He  gave  it  over,  terrified  by  an  oracle, 
which  told  him  that  he  would  thereby  open  a  door 
for  Barbarians  (for  by  this  name  they  called  all  for 
eigners)  to  enter  Egypt.  The  work  was  continu 
ed  by  Darius,  the  first  of  that  name;  but  he  alsf 
desisted  from  it,  upon  his  being  told,  that  as  the 
Red  Sea  lay  higher  than  Egypt,  it  would  drown 
the  whole  country. 

But  it  was  at  fast  finished  under  the  Ptolemies, 
who,  by  the  help  of  sluices,  opened  or  shut  th« 
canal  as  there  was  occasion.  It  began  not  far  from 
the  Delta,  near  the  town  of  Bubastus.  It  was  a 
hundred  cubits,  that  is,  twenty-five  fathoms  broad, 
so  that  two  vessels  might  pass  with  ease;  it  had 
depth  enough  to  carry  the  largest  ships;  and  was 
about  a  thousand  stadia,  that  is,  above  fifty  leagues 
long.  This  canal  was  of  great  service  to  tlie  trade 
of  Egypt.  But  it  is  now  almost  filled  up,  and 
there  are  scarce  any  remains  of  it  to  be  seen. 


CHAPTER    III 

LOWER    EGYPT. 

I  AM  now  to  speak  of  Lower  Ejrvpt.  Its  shape, 
which  resembles  a  triangle,  or  Delta,  A,  £aye  oc- 
casion to  its  bearing  the  latter  name,  which  is  that 
of  one  of  the  Greek  letters.  Lower  Egypt  form* 


•  Ilia  facies  pulcherrima  eat,  cum  jnm  se  in  a»ros  Nilit.i 
injesgit.  Latent  campi,  opprta»que  sunt  vnlles:  oppidn  in- 
sulnrum  modo  extant.  Nullum  in  MaditerrmneH,  nisi  pe« 
navigia,  commercium  est :  majorque  est  l.etitia  in  gentibai. 
quo  minus  terrarum  suarom  vidcnt.  Stnec.  Jfat.  Qv<r«L 
1.  iv.  c.  2. 

«  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  158.  Strab.  1.  xrii.  p.  S04.  Plin.  1.  H 
c.  29.  Diod.  1.  i.  p.  29. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  EGYPT. 


49 


•  kind  of  island;  it  begins  at  a  place  where  the 
Nile  is  divided  into  two  large  canals,  through 
which  it  empties  itself  into  the  Mediterranean: 
the  mouth  oil  the  right  hand  is  called  the  Pelusian, 
on  the  other  the  Canopic,  from  two  cities  in  their 
neighborhood,  Pelusium  and  Canopus,  now  called 
Daiiilttta  and  Rosetta.  Between  these  two  large 
jranches,  there  are  five  others  of  less  note.  This  is- 
and  is  the  best  cultivated,  the  most  fruitful,  and  the 
richest  part  of  Egypt.  Its  chief  cities  (very  an- 
ciently) were  Heliopolis,  Haracleopolis,  Naucra- 
tis,  Sats,  Tanis,  Canopus,  Pelusium;  and,  in  latter 
time-.,  Alt  tandria.  Nicopolis,  <fcc.  It  was  in  the 
country  ol  TanU  that  the  Israelites  dwelt. 

'There  •rfas  at  Sais  a  temple  dedicated  to  Miner- 
va, who  is  supposed  to  be  the  same  as  [*i«,  with 
ihe  following  inscription:  I  am  whatever  hath  been, 
and  it,  and  snail  be:  and  no  mortal  hath  yet  pier- 
ced through  the  veil  that  shrouds  me. 

*ll<Tiopolis,  that  is,  the  city  of  the  sun,  was  so 
called  from  a  magnificent  temple  there  dedicated 
to  that  planet.  Herodotus,  and  other  authors  af- 
ter him,  relate  some  particulars  concerning  the 
PhcenLx  and  this  temple,  which,  if  true,  would  in- 
deed be  very  wonderful.  Of  this  kind  of  birds, 
if  we  may  believe  the  ancients,  there  is  never  but 
one  at  a  time  in  the  world.  He  is  brought  forth  in 
Arabia,  lives  live  or  six  hundred  years,  and  is  of 
the  size  of  an  eagle.  His  head  is  adorned  with  a 
shining  and  most  beautiful  crest;  the  feat'.ers  of 
his  neck  are  of  a  gold  color,  and  the  rest  of  a  pur- 
ple; his  tail  is  white,  intermixed  with  red,  and  his 
eyes  sparkling  like  stars.  When  he  is  old,  and 
finds  his  end  approaching,  he  builds  a  nest  with 
wood  and  aromatic  spices,  and  then  dies.  Of  his 
bones  and  marrow,  a  worm  is  produced,  out  of 
which  another  Phoenix  is  formed.  His  first  care 
is  to  solemnize  his  parent's  obsequies,  for  which 
purpose  he  makes  up  a  ball  in  the  shape  of  an  egg, 
with  abundanceof  perfumes  of  myrrh,  as  heavv  as  he 
can  carry,  which  he  often  essays  beforehand;  then 
be  makes  a  hole  in  it,  where  he  deposites  his  pa- 
rent's body,  and  closes  it  carefully  with  myrrh  and 
other  pet  fumes.  After  this,  he  takes  up  the  pre- 
cious load  on  his  shoulders,  and  Hying  to  the  altar 
of  the  sun,  in  the  city  of  Heliopolis,  he  there 
burns  it. 

Herodotus  and  Tacitus  dispute  the  truth  of  some 
of  the  circumstances  of  this  account,  but  seem  to 
suppose  it  true  in  general.  Pliny,  on  the  contrary, 
in  the  very  beginning  of  his  account  of  it,  insinu- 
ates plainly  enough  that  he  looks  upon  the  whole 
as  fabulous;  and  this  is  the  opinion  of  all  modern 
authors. 

This  ancient  tradition,  though  grounded  on  an 
evident  falsehood,  hath  yet  introduced  into  almost 
all  languages,  the  custom  of  giving  the  name  of 
phoenix  to  whatever  is  singular  and  uncommon  in 
its  kind:  Kara  avis  in  lerris,  says  Juvenal,* speak- 
ing of  the  difficulty  of  finding  an  accomplished 
woman  in  all  respects.  And  Seneca  observes  the 
same  of  a  gooJ  man.* 

What  is  reported  of  swans  rir.  that  they  never 
•ing  but  in  their  expiring  moments,  and  that  then 
they  warble  very  m<  ludiouslv,  is  likewise  ground- 
ed inertly  on  a  vulgar  error;  and  yet  it  is  used, 
not  only  by  the  poets,  but  also  by  the  orators,  and 
extn  the  philosophers.  O  rnnlis  quoque  piscibus 
donalura  cycni  si  libeat,  sonum,  says  Horace5  to 
Melpomene.  Cicero  compares  the  excellent  dis- 
course which  Crassus  made  in  the  senate,  a  few 
davs  before  his  death,  to  the  melodious  singing  of 
a  (lying  swan:  Ilia  tanatiam  cycneajfuit  divini  ho- 
minis  vox  et  oratio.  De  Orat.  1.  lii.  n.  6.  And 


i  Plutar  de  laid.  p.  354. 

»  Sirub.  I.  xvii.  p.  805.    Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  73.    Plin.  I.  x.  c.  0. 
Tacit.  Ann.  1.  vi.  c.  28.  »  Sat.  vi. 

«  Vir  IMV.HH  tarn  cito  nee  fieri  pote«t.  nee  intelligi — tan- 
qoarn  Phflenix.  semol  anno  quingcnteiimo  uawitnr.    Ep.  40. 

•  O.I.  iti.  1.  iv. 
Vol..  I.— 7 


Socrates  used  to  say,  that  good  men  ought  to  imi- 
tate swans,  who,  perceiving  by  a  secret  instinct, 
and  a  sort  of  divination,  what  advantage  there  i* 
in  death,  die  singing  aid  with  joy:  Providentet 
qiiidin  morte  boni  sit,cbm  cantn  e't  ruliiptate  mo- 
riuntiir.  Tusc.  Qu.  1.  i.  n.  73.  I  thought  this  short 
digression  migrht  be  of  service  to  youth;  and  re 

L  *  * 

turn  now  to  mv  subject. 

It  was  in  Heliopolis,8  that  an  ox,  under  the  name 
of  Mnevis,  was  worshipped  as  a  god.  Camby?fc- 
king  of  Persia,  exercised  his  sacrilegious  rage  OB 
this  city;  burning  the  temples,  demolishing  the 
palaces,"  and  destroying  the  most  precious  monu- 
ments of  antiquity"  in  it.  There  are  still  to  be 
seen  some  obelisks  which  escaped  his  fury;  and 
others  were  brought  from  thence  to  Rome,  to 
wtiich  city  they  are  an  ornament  even  at  this  day. 

Alexandria,  built  by  Alexander  the  Grea',  from 
whom  it  had  its  name,  vied  almost  in  magnificence 
with  the  ancient  cities  in  Egypt.  It  stands  four 
davs' journey  from  Cairo,  and  was  formerly  the 
chief  mart  of  all  the  trade  of  the  east.  7The  mer- 
chandises were  unloaded  at  Portus  Muris,8  a  towq 
on  the  western  coast  of  the  Red  Sea;  from  whence 
they  were  brought  upon  camels  to  a  town  of  The- 
bais,  called  Cophat,  and  afterwards  conveyed  down 
the  .Nile'o  Alexandria,  whither  merchants  resorted 
from  all  parts. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  trade  of  the  East  has 
at  all  times  enriched  those  who  carried  it  on.  This 
was  the  chief  source  of  the  vast  treasures  that 
Solomon  amassed,  and  which  enabled  him  to  build 
the  magnificent  temple  of  Jerusalem.  David,  by 
conquering  Idumaea,9  became  master  of  Elath  and 
Esion-geber,  two  towns  situated  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Red  Sea.  From  these  two  ports,  SoL 
omon  sent  fleets  to  Ophirand  Tarshish,'°  which  al 
ways  brought  back  immense  riches.11  This  traffic 
after  having  been  enjoyed  for  some  time  by  the 
Syrians,  who  regainecl  Idumasa,  passed  from  them 
into  the  hands  of  the  Tyrians.  "These  got  all 
their  merchandize  conveyed,  by  the  way  of  Rhino- 
colura  (a  seaport  town  lying  between  the  confines 
of  Kgvpt  and  Palestine,)  to  Tyre,  from  whence 
they  distributed  them  all  over  the  western  world. 
Hereby  the  Tyrians  enriched  themselves  exceed- 
ingly, under  the  Persian  empire,  by  the  favor  and 
protection  of  whose  monarchs  they  had  the  full 
possession  of  this  trade.  But  when  the  Ptolemies 
had  made  themselves  masters  of  Egypt,  they  soon 
drew  all  this  trade  into  their  kingdom,  by  build- 
ing Berenice  and  other  ports  on  the  western  side 
of  the  Red  Sea,  belonging  to  Egypt;  and  'ixed 
their  chief  mart  at  Alexandria,  which  thereby  rose 
to  be  the  city  of  the  greatest  trade  in  the  vorW. 
There  it  continued  for  a  great  many  centuries  af- 
ter; and  all  the  traffic  which  the  western  p:,rts  of 
the  world  from  that  time  had  with  Persia,  India. 
Arabia,  and  the  eastern  coasts  of  Africa,  was 
wholly  carried  on  through  the  Red  Sea  -md  the 
mouth  of  the  Nile,  till  a  way  was  disco rered,  a 
little  above  two  hundred  years  since,  of  failing  to 
those  parts  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  After 
this,  the  Portuguese  for  some  time  were  masters 
of  this  trade;  but  now  it  is  in  a  manner  engrossed 
wholly  by  the  English  and  Dutch.  Thi'i  short  ac 
count  of  the  East  India  trade  from  Solomon's 
time  to  the  present  age,  is  extracted  frjrn  Dr.  Pri- 
deaux." 

UFor  the  convenience  of  trade,  there  was  built 
near  Alexandria,  in  an  island  called  Pharos,  a  tow- 
er which  bore  the  same  name.  At  the  top  of  this 
tower  was  kept  a  fire,  to  light  such  ships  as  sailed 


•  Strab.  1.  xvii.  p.  805.  '  Strab.  1.  xvi  p.  781. 

•  Or  Myo»  Hormos.     »  2  Sam.  viii.  14.     '«  1  Kin?»  it.  3« 
»  He  got  in  one  voyage  450  tali-nts  of  gold,  2  Cnrm 

viii  16 ;  which  amount!  to  three  millions  two  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  pounds  tier-line.  Prid.  Conrtri.  vol  i.  ad 
ann'  740,  not.  "  Strah.  1.  xvi-p.  4CI 

«»P«nI.Lp.9.     '«  Strab.  1.  xvii.  791.  Hio.  I.  xxxvi  r.   19 


.T. 


50 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


by  night  near  those  dangerous  coasts,  which  were 
full  of  sands  and  shelves,  from  whence  all  other 
towers,  designed  for  the  same  use,  have  derived 
their  name,  as  Pharo  tii  Mesyina,  &c.  The  famous 
architect  Sostratus  built  it  by  the  order  of  Ptolemy 
I'liilniit  Iphus,  who  expended  tight  hundred  talents 
upon  it.1  It  was  reckoned  one  of  the  seven  won- 
ders of  the  world.  Some,  through  a  mistake, 
have  commended  that  prince,  for  permitting  the 
architect  to  put  his  name  in  the  inscription  which 
was  fixed  on  the  tower  instead  of  his  own.*  It 
was  very  short  and  plain,  according  to  the  manner 
of  the  ancients.  Soslratits  Cnidiut  Dtxiphanis 
P.  Diis  Servaloribus  pro  naviganlibus:  i.  e.  Sos- 
tr.itus  the  Cnidian,  son  of  Dexiphanes,  to  the  pro- 
tecting deities,  for  the  use  of  seafaring  people. 
But  certainly  Ptolemy  must  have  very  much  un- 
dervalued that  kind  of  immortality  whi.-h  princes 
are  generally  so  fond  of.  to  suffer  that  his  name 
should  not  be  so  much  as  mentioned  in  the  inscrip- 
tion of  an  edifice  so  capable  of  immortalizing  him. 
What  we  read  in  Lucian*  concerning  this  matter, 
deprives  Ptolemy  of  a  modesty,  which  indeed 
would  be  very  ill  placed  here.  Tfiis  author  informs 
us,  that  Sostratus,  to  engross  in  after  times  the 
whole  glory  of  that  noble  structure  to  himself, 
caused  the  inscription  with  his  own  name  to  be 
carved  in  the  marble,  which  he  afterwards  cover- 
ed with  lime,  and  thereon  put  the  king's  name. 
The  lime  soon  mouldered  away;  and  by  that 
means,  instead  of  procuring  the  architect  the  hon- 
or with  which  he  had  flattered  himself,  served  on- 
ly to  discover  to  future  ages  his  mean  fraud  and 
ridiculous  vanity. 

Riches  failed  not  to  bring  into  this  city,  as  they 
usually  do  in  all  places,  luxury  and  licentiousness; 
so  that  the  Alexandrian  voluptuousness  became  a 
proverb.*  In  this  city  arts  and  sciences  were  also 
industriously  cultivated:  witness  that  stately  edi- 
fice, gurnamed  the  Museum,  where  the  literati 
used  to  meet,  and  were  maintained  at  the  public 
expense;  and  the  famous  library,  which  was  aug- 
mented considerably  by  Ptolemy  Philadelphus; 
and  which  by  the  magnificence  of  the  kings  his 
successors,  at  last  contained  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand volumes.  In  Caesar's  wars  with  the  Alexan- 
drians,* part  of  this  library  (situate  in  the  6Bru- 
chion,)  which  consisted  of  four  hundred  thousand 
volumes,  was  unhappily  consumed  by  fire. 


PART   II. 

OF  THE  MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS    OF  THE  EGYP- 
TIANS. 

EGYPT  was  ever  considered  by  all  the  ancients, 
as  the  most  renowned  school  for  wisdom  and  pol- 
itics, and  the  source  from  whence  most  arts  and 
sciences  were  derived.  This  kingaom  bestowed 
its  noblest  labors  and  its  finest  arts  on  the  improve- 
ment of  mankind ;  and  Greece  was  so  sensible  of 
this,  that  its  most  illustrious  men,  as  Homer,  Py- 
thagoras, Plato;  even  its  great  legislators.  Lycur- 
rus  and  Solon,  with  many  more  whom  it  is  need- 
less to  mention,  travelled"  into  Egypt,  to  complete 
their  studies,  and  draw  from  that  fountain  whatev- 
er was  most  rare  nnd  valuable  in  every  kind  of 
learning.  God  himself  has  given  this  kingdom  a 
glorious  testimony;  when  praising  Moses,  he  says 
of  him,  that  he  was  learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of 
the  Egyptian*? 

>  Eii'lit  hundred  thousand  crowns,  or  180,0001.  iterling. 

•  Magno  animo  Piolcina'i  resist,  quod   in  ea  pcrtniserit 
fostrati  Cnidii  architect!  itructurx  numen  inscribi.     Plin. 

•  De  i«cribend.     Hi«t.  p.  706. 

«  \c  AlexandrinU  qtiidcm  permittenda  deliciit.  Qiiinii/. 

•  Plut.  in  CSES  p.  731.     Seneca  do  tranquil,  anip.  c.  Lz. 

•  A  quarter  or  division  »f  the  city  of  Alexandria, 
i  Acu>  vii.  22. 


To  give  some  idea  of  the  manners  and  custom* 
of  Egypt.  I  shall  confine  myself  principal!)  to  thes« 
particulars:  its  kings  and  government;  priest! 
and  religions;  soldiers  and  war;  sciences,  arts  and 
trades. 

The  reader  must  not  be  surpr  sod  if  he  some- 
times finds,  in  the  customs  I  take  notice  of,  a  kind 
of  contradiction.  This  circumstance  is  owin°-  ei- 
ther to  the  difference  of  countries  and  nation* 
which  did  not  always  follow  the  same  usages;  or 
to  the  different  way  of  thinking  of  the  hi*ton»n» 
whom  I  copy. 


CHAPTER   I. 

CONCERNING   THE   KINGS    AND  GOVERNMENT. 

THE  Egyptians  were  the  first  people  who  ri^ht* 
ly  understood  the  rules  of  government.  A  nation 
so  grave  and  serious  immediately  perceived,  thai 
the  true  end  of  politics  is,  to  make  file  easy,  and  a 
people  happy. 

The  kingdom  was  hereditary;  but,  according  to 
Diodorus,*  the  Egyptian  princes  conducted  them- 
selves in  a  different  manner  from  what  is  usually 
seen  in  other  monarchies,  where  the  prince  ac- 
knowledges no  other  rule  of  his  actions  than  his 
own  arbitrary  will  and  pleasure.  But  here,  king! 
were  under  greater  restraint  from  the  laws  than 
their  subjects.  They  had  some  particular  ones  di- 
gested by  a  former  monarch,  that  composed  part 
of  what  the  Egyptians  called  the  sacred  book*. 
Thus  every  thing  being  settled  by  ancient  custom, 
they  never  sought  to  live  in  a  different  way  from 
their  ancestors. 

No  slave  nor  foreigner  was  admitted  into  tha 
immediate  service  of  the  prince;  such  a  post  was 
too  important  to  be  intrusted  to  any  persons,  ex- 
cept those  who  were  the  most  distinguished  by 
their  birth,  and  had  received  the  most  exct.llen; 
education;  to  the  end,  that  as  they  had  the  liberty 
of  approaching  the  king's  person  day  and  night, 
he  might,  from  men  so  qualified,  Hear  nothing 
which  was  unbecoming  the  royal  majesty;  nor 
have  any  sentiments  instilled  into  him  but  such  ai 
were  of  a  noble  and  generous  kind.  For,  adds  Di- 
odorus,  it  is  very  rarely  seen  that  kings  fly  out  into 
any  vicious  excess,  unless  those  who  approach 
them  approve  their  irregularities,  or  serve  as  in- 
struments to  their  passions. 

The  kings  of  Egypt  freely  permitted,  not  only 
the  quality  and  proportion  of  what  they  ate  and 
drank  to  be  prescribed  them  (a  thing  customary 
in  Eg3'pt,  whose  inhabitants  were  all  sober,  and 
whose  air  inspired  frugality,)  but  even  that  all 
their  hours,  and  almost  every  action,  should  be  un- 
der the  regulation  of  the  laws. 

In  the  morning  at  daybreak,  when  the  head  is 
clearest,  and  the  thoughts  most  unperplexed,  they 
read  the  several  letters  they  received;  to  form  a 
more  just  and  distinct  idea  of  the  affairs  which 
were  to  come  under  their  consideration  that  day. 

As  soon  as  they  were  dressed,  they  went  to  the 
daily  sacrifice  performed  in  the  temple;  where, 
surrounded  with  their  whole  court,  and  the  victims 
placed  before  the  altar,  they  assisted  at  the  prayer 
pronounced  aloud  by  the  high  priest,  in  which  he 
asked  of  the  £ods,  health  and  all  other  blessings 
for  the  king,  because  he  governed  his  people  with 
clemency  and  justice,  and  made  the  laws  of  his 
kingdom  the  rule  and  standard  of  hisacjons.  The 
high-priest  entered  into  a  long  detail  f  his  royal 
virtues,  observing  that  he  was  religious  to  the  gods, 
affable  to  men,  moderate,  just,  magnanimous,  sin 
cere;  an  enemy  to  falsehood;  liberal;  master  of 
his  passions;  punishing  crimes  with  the  utmost 
lenity,  but  boundless  in  rewarding  merit.  He 
next  spoke  of  the  faults  which  kings  might  b« 
guilty  of;  but  supposed  at  the  same  time,  that 


•  Diod.  1.  i  -  «3  fcc. 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


51 


Ihev  ncvei  co.Tm:itlsd  \ny.  except  by  surprise  or  ( 
Ignorance;  and  'oaded  with  imoreoations  such  of 
their  mi.'nstsrs  HS  «;ave  '.htnj  ill  counsel,  and  sup- 
pressed 01  Disguised  the  truth.  Such  were  the 
method*  of  con /eying  instricvon  to  their  kings. 
It  was  thought  th'at  reproaches  would  on'y  sour 
their  tempers;  and  that  the  most  effectual  me'.hod 
to  inspire  them  with  virtue,  would  bt  to  point  out 
to  them  their  duty  in  praises  conformable  to  the 
sense  of  the  laws,  and  pronounced  in  a  solemn 
manner  before  the  gods.  After  the  prayers  and 
sacrifices  were  ended,  the  counsels  and  actious  of 
great  men  were  read  to  the  king  out  of  the  sacred 
books,  in  order  that  he  mightgovern  his  dominions 
according  to  their  maxims,  and  maintain  the  laws 
which  had  made  his  predecessors  and  their  subjects 
»o  happy. 

I  have  already  observed,  that  the  quantity  as 
well  as  quality  of  what  he  ate  or  drank  were  pre- 
scribed, by  the  laws,  to  the  king:  his  table  was  cover- 
ed with  nothing  but  the  most  common  food;  be- 
rause  eating  in  Egypt  was  designed,  not  to  tickle 
the  palate,  but  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  nature. 
One  would  have  concluded,  (observes  the  histori- 
an,) that  these  rules  had  been  laid  down  by  some 
able  physician,  who  wasattentiveonly  to  the  health 
of  the  prince,  rather  than  by  a  legislator.  The 
same  simplicity  was  seen  in  all  other  things:  and 
we  read  in  Plutarch1  of  a  temple  in  Thebes,  which 
had  one  of  its  pillars  inscribed  with  imprecations 
against  that  king  who  first  introduced  profusion 
ansl  luxury  into  Egypt. 

The  principal  duty  of  kings,  and  their  most  es- 
sential function,  is  the  administering  justice  to 
th<  ir  subjects.  Accordingly,  the  kings  of  Eg\  pt 
cultivated  more  immediately  this  duty;  convinced 
that  on  this  depended  not  only  the  ease  and  com- 
fort of  individuals,  but  the  happiness  of  the  state; 
which  would  be  a  herd  of  robbers  rather  than  a 
kingdom,  should  the  weak  be  unprotected,  and  the 
powerful  enabled  by  their  riches  and  influence  to 
commit  crimes  with  impunity. 

Thirty  judges  were  selected  out  of  the  principal 
cities,  to  form  a  body  for  dispensing  justice  through 
the  whole  kingdom.  The  prince,  IB  filling  these  va- 
cancies, chose  such  as  were  most  renowned  for  their 
honesty;  and  put  at  their  head,  him  who  was  most 
distinguished  for  his  knowledge  and  love  of  the 
laws,  and  was  had  in  the  most  universal  esteem. 
They  had  revenues  assigned  them,  to  the  end  that, 
being  freed  from  domestic  cares,  they  might  devote 
their  whole  time  to  the  execution  of  the  laws. 
Thus  honorably  maintained  by  the  generosity  of 
the  prince,  they  administered  gratuitously  to  the 
people  that  justice  to  which  they  have  a  natural 
right,  and  which  ought  to  be  equally  open  to  all; 
and,  in  some  sense,  to  the  poor  more  than  the  rich, 
because  the  latter  find  a  support  within  themselves; 
whereas  the  very  condition  of  the  former  exposes 
them  more  to  injuries,  and  therefore  calls  louder 
for  the  protection  of  the  laws.  To  guard  against 
surprise,  affairs  were  transacted  by  writing  in  the 
assemblies  of  these  judges.  That  false  eloquence 
was  dreaded,  which  dazzles  the  mind,  and  moves 
the  passions.  Truth  could  not  be  expressed  with 
too  much  plainness,  as  it  alone  was  to  have  the 
sway  in  judgments:  because  in  that  alone  the  rich 
and  poor,  the  powerful  and  weak,  the  learned  and 
the  igr  >rant,  were  to  find  relief  and  security.  The 
president  of  this  senate  wore  a  collar  of  gold  set 
with  precious  stones,  at  which  hung  a  figure  re- 
presented blind,  this  being  called  the  emblem  of 
truth.  When  the  president  put  this  collaron.it 
was  understood  as  a  signal  to  enter  upon  business. 
He  touched  the  party  with  it  who  was  to  gain  his 
cause,  and  this  was  the  form  of  passing  sentence. 

The  mo«t  excellent  circumstance  in  the  laws  of 
the  Egyptians,  was,  that  every  individual,  from  his 


DC  laid.  &  Osir.  p.  354 


infincy,  was  nurtured  in  the  strictest  observance  of 
them.  A  new  custom  in  Egypt  was  a  kind  of 
miracle.2  All  things  there  ran  in  the  old  channel; 
and  the  exactness  with  which  little  matters  were 
adhered  to,  preserved  those  of  more  importance; 
and  consequently  no  nation  ever  retained  their  laws 
and  cusioius  longer  than  the  Egyptians. 

Wilful  murder  was  punished  with  death,  what- 
ever might  be  the  condition  of  the  murdered  per- 
son. Whether  he  was  free  born  or  otherwise.  In 
this  the  humanity  and  equity  of  the  Egyplians 
were  superior  to  that  of  the  Romans,  who  gave  the 
master  an  absolute  power  of  life  and  death  over  hi* 
slave.*  The  emperor  Adrian,  indeed  abolished 
this  law;  from  an  opinion,  that  an  abuse  of  this 
nature  ought  to  be  reformed,  let  its  antiquity  of 
authority  be  ever  so  great. 

Perjury  was  also  punished  with  death,4 because 
that  crime  attacks  both  the  gods,  whose  majesty  is 
trampled  upon  by  invoking  their  name  to  a  false 
oath;  and  men  by  breaking  the  strongest  tie  of  hu- 
man society,  viz.  sincerity  and  veracity. 

The  false  accuser  was  condemned  to  undergo 
the  punishment  which  the  person  accused  was  to 
have  suffered,  had  the  accusation  been  proved.5 

He  who  had  neglected  or  refused  to  save  a  man's 
life  when  attacked,  if  it  was  in  his  power  to  assist 
him,  was  punished  as  rigorously  as  the  assassin;6 
but  if  the  unfortunate  person  could  not  be  suc- 
coured, the  offender  was  at  least  to  be  impeached; 
and  penalties  were  decreed  for  any  neglect  of  this 
kind.  Thus  the  subjects  were  a  guard  and  protec- 
tion to  one  another;  and  the  whole  body  of  the 
community  united  against  the  designs  of  the  bad. 

No  man  was  allowed  to  be  useless  to  the  state;7 
but  every  one  was  obliged  to  enter  his  name  and 
place  of  abode  in  a  public  register,  that  remained 
in  the  hands  of  the  magistrate,  and  to  describe  his 
profession,  and  his  means  of  support.  If  he  gave  a 
False  account  of  himself,  he  was  immediately  put  to 
death. 

To  prevent  borrowing  of  money,  the  parent  of 
sloth,  frauds,  and  chicane,8  king  Asychis  made  a 
very  judicious  law.  The  wisest  and  best  regulated 
states,  as  Athens  and  Rome,  ever  found  insupera- 
ble difficulties,  in  contriving  a  just  medium,  to  re- 
strain, on  the  one  hand,  the  cruelty  of  the  creditor 
in  the  exaction  of  his  loan;  and  on  the  other,  the 
knavery  of  the  debtor,  who  refused  or  neglected  to 
pay  his  debts.  Now  Egypt  took  a  wise  course  on 
this  occasion;  and,  without  doing  any  injury  to 
the  personal  liberty  of  its  inhabitants,  or  ruining 
their  families,  pursued  the  debtor  with  incessant 
fears  of  infamy  in  case,  he  were  dishonest.  No 
man  was  permitted  to  borrow  money  without 
pawning  to  the  creditor  the  body  of  his  father, 
which  every  Egyptian  embalmed  with  great  care, 
and  kept  reverentially  in  his  house  (as  will  be  ob- 
served in  the  sequt  1,)  and  therefore  might  be  easi- 
ly moved  from  one  place  to  another.  But  it  was 
equally  impious  and  infamous  not  to  redeem  soon 
so  precious  a  pledge;  and  he  who  died  without 
having  discharged  this  duty,  was  deprived  of  the 
customary  honors  paid  to  the  dead.9 

Diodorus10  remarks  an  error  committed  by  some 
of  the  Grecian  legislators.  They  forbid,  for  in- 
stance, the  taking  away  (to  satisfy  debts)  the  hor- 
ses, ploughs,  and  other  implements  of  husbandry 


•  Plat,  in  Tim.  p.  656.  <  Diod.  I.  i.  p.  70. 
«  Pa».  69.  •  Diod.  1.  i.  p.  69. 

•  Ibid.  »  Ibid. 

•  Horod.  1.  ii.  c.  136. 

•  This  law  put  the  whole  sepulchre  of  the  debtor  into  the 
power  of  the  creditor,  who  removed  to  hi?  own  house  th« 
body  of  the  father:   the  debtor  refusing  to  disci.  arge  hii 
obligation,  was   to  be   deprived  of  buriol,  either   in   hii 
father's  sepulchre  or  any  other;  and  whilst   he  lived,  he 
was  not  permitted  to  bury  any  person  descended  f'om  him. 


ilTJ  *\*.av  /otJiv»  TSV  I* 
»•  Diod.  I.  i.  p.  7L 


S»v»i.   Herod 


52 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


employed  by  peasants;  judging  it  inhuman  to  re- 
dace. 'DV  this  security,  these  poor  men  to  an  im- 
possibility of  discharging  their  debts,  and  getting 
thni  bread:  but  at  the  same  time,  they  permitted 
the  creditor  to  imprison  the  peasants  themselves, 
who  ;ilone  were  capable  of  using  these  implements; 
which  exposed  them  to  the  same  inconveniences, 
and  at  the  same  time  deprived  the  government  of  per- 
sons who  belonsr,  and  are  necessary  to  it;  who  ta- 
bor for  the  public  emolument,  and  over  whose  per- 
•on  no  private  man  has  any  right. 

Polygamy  was  allowed  in  Kgypt.1  except  to  the 
priests,  who  could  marrv  but  one  woman.  What- 
ever was  the  condition  of  the  woman,  whethershe 
was  free  or  a  slave,  her  children  were  deemed  free 
and  legitimate. 

One  custom  that  was  practised  in  Egypt,2  shows 
the  profound  darkness  into  which  such  nations  as 
were  most  celebrated  for  their  wisdom  have  been 
plunged;  and  this  in  the  marriage  of  brothers  with 
their  sisters,  which  was  not  only  authorized  by  the 
laws,  but  even,  in  some  measure,  originated  from 
their  religion,  from  the  example  and  practice  of 
such  of  their  gods,  as  had  been  the  most  anciently 
and  universally  adored  in  Egypt,  that  is,  Osiris  and 
Isls. 

A  very  great  respect  was  there  paid  to-old  age.3 
The  young  were  obliged  to  rise  up  for  the  old  ;  and 
on  every  occasion  to  resign  to  them  the  most  hon- 
orable seal.  The  Spartans  borrowed  this  law  from 
the  Egyptians. 

The  virtue  in  the  highest  esteem  amon»  the 
Egyptians  was  gratitude.  The  glory  which  has 
been  given  them  of  being  the  most  grateful  of  all 
men,  shows  that  they  were  the  best  formed  of  any 
nation  for  social  life.  Benefits  are  the  band  of  con- 
cord, both  public  and  private.  He  who  acknowl- 
edges favors,  loves  to  confer  them  ;  and  in  banish- 
ing ingratitude,  the  pleasure  of  doing  good  re- 
mains so  pure  and  engaging,  that  it  is  impossible 
for  a  man  to  be  insensible  ot  it.  But  it  was  par- 
ticularly towards  their  kings  that  the  Egyptians 
prided  themselves  on  evincing  their  gratitude. 
They  honored  them  whilst  living,  as  so  nianv  visi- 
ble representations  of  the  Deity;  and  after"  their 
death  lamented  for  them  as  the  fathers  of  their  coun- 
try. These  sentiments  of  respect  and  tenderness 
proceeded  from  a  strong  persuasion,  that  the  Di- 
vinity himself  had  placed  them  upon  the  thrones, 
as  he  distinguished  them  so  greatly  from  all  other 
mortals:  and  that  kings  bore  the  most  noble  char- 
acteristics of  the  Supreme  Being,  as  the  power 
and  will  of  doing  good  to  others  were  united  in 
their  persons. 

CHAPTER  II. 

CONCERNING  THE  PRIESTS  AND  RELIGION   OF  THE 
EGYPTIANS. 

PRIESTS  in  Egypt  held  the  second  rank  to  kings. 
They  had  great  privileges  and  revenues;  their 
lands  were  exempted  from  all  imposts;  of  which 
*onie  traces  are  seen  in  Genesis,  where  it  is  said, 
Joteph  made  it  a  law  over  the  land  of  Egypt,  that 
Pharaoh  should  have  the  fifth  part,  except  the  land 
of  the  priests  only,  which  became  not  Pharaoh's.4 

The  prince  usually  honored  them  with  a  large 
•nare  in  his  confidence  and  government,  because 
they,  of  all  his  subjects,  had  received  the  best  edu- 
cation, had  acquired  the  greatest  knowledge,  and 
were  most  strongly  attached  to  the  king's  person 
and  the  good  of  the  public.  They  were  at  one  and 
the  same  time  the  depositaries  of  religion  and  of 
the  sciences;  and  to  this  circumstance  was  owing 
he  g.-eat  respect  which  was  paid  them  by  the  na- 
tives as  well  as  foreigners,  by  whom  thev  were 
alike  consulted  upon  the  most  sacred  things  rela- 


«  Diod.  lib.  i.  p.  72. 
•  Herod.  I.  u.  •,  20. 


•  Ibid.  p.  22. 
«Gon.  xlvii.  26. 


ling  to  the  mysteries  of  religion,  and  the  moM 
profound  subjec  Is  in  the  several  sciences 

The  Egyptians  pretend  to  be  the  first  instituton 
of  festivals  and  processions  in  honor  of  ttie  gods.1 
One  festival  was  celebrated  in  the  city  of  Bubastus, 
whi'.her  persons  resorted  from  all  parts  of  Egypt, 
and  upwards  of  seventy  thousand,  besides  children, 
were  seen  at  it.  Another,  surnamed  the  feast  of 
the  lights,  was  solemnized  at  Sais.  All  persons, 
throughout  Egypt,  who  did  not  go  to  Sais,  we^e 
obliged  to  illuminate  their  windows. 

•Different  animals  were  sacrificed  in  different 
countries;  but  one  common  and  general  ceremony 
was  observed  in  all  sacrifices,  ti*.  the  laying  of 
hands  upon  the  head  of  the  victim,  loading  it  at 
the  same  time  with  imprecations;  and  praying  the 
gods  to  divert  upon  that  victim  all  the  calamitiei 
which  might  threaten  Egypt. 

It  is  to  Egypt  that  Pythagoras  owed  his  favorite 
doctrine  of  the  Metempsychosis,  or  transmigration 
of  souls.7  The  Egyptians  believed,  that  at  the 
death  of  men  their  souls  transmigrated  into  other 
human  bodies;  and  that  if  they  had  been  vicious, 
they  were  imprisoned  in  the  bodies  of  unclean,  or 
ill-conditioned  beasts,  to  expiate  in  them  their 
past  transgressions;  and  that  after  a  revolution  of 
some  centuries,  they  again  animated  other  human 
bodies. 

The  priests  had  the  possession  of  the  sacred 
books,  which  contained,  at  large  the  principles  of 
government,  as  well  as  the  mysteries  ot"  divine  wor- 
ship. Both  were  commonly  involved  in  symboli 
and  enigmas,*  which,  under  these  veils,  made  truth 
more  venerable,  and  excited  more  strongly  the  cu- 
riosity of  men.  The  figure  of  Harpocrates  in  the 
Egyptian  sanctuaries,  with  his  finger  upon  hii 
mouth,  seemed  to  intimate,  that  mysteries  were 
there  enclosed,  the  knowledge  of  wliKh  was  re- 
vealed to  very  few.  The  sphinxes,  placed  at  the 
entrance  of  all  temples,  implied  the  same.  It  is 
very  well  known,  thst  pyramids,  obelisks,  pillars, 
statues,  in  a  word,  all  public  monuments  were  usu- 
ally adorned  with  hieroglyphics,  that  is,  with  sym- 
bolical writings;  whether  these  were  characters 
unknown  to  the  vulgar,  or  figures  of  animals,  under 
which  was  couched  a  hidden  and  parabolical  mean- 
ing. Thus,  by  a  hare,  was  signified  a  liv<  Iv  and 
piercing  attention,9  because  this  creature  has  a  very 
delicate  sense  of  hearing.  The  statue  of  a  iu«!ge 
without  hands,  and  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground 
symbolized  the  duties  of  those  who  were  to  exercise 
the  judiciary  functions.10 

It  woul  I  require  a  volume  to  treat  fully  of  th* 
religion  of  the  Egyptians.  But  I  shall  confine  my- 
self to  two  articles,  which  form  the  principal  part 
of  it;  and  these  are,  the  worship  of  the  dillerent 
deities,  and  the  ceremonies  relating  to  funerals. 

SECTION.  I.  —  THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  VARIOUS 
DEITIES. 

NEVER  were  any  people  more  superstitious  than 
the  Egyptians:  they  had  a  great  number  of  gods, 
of  different  orders  and  degrees,  which  I  shall  omit, 
because  they  belong  more  to  fable  than  to  history. 
Among  the  rest,  two  were  universally  adored  ie 
that  country,  and  these  were  Osiris  and  Isit 
which  are  thought  to  be  the  sun  and  moon:  and  in 
deed  the  worship  of  those  planets  gave  rise  to  idol 
atry. 

Besides  these  gods,  the  Egyptians  worshipped  a 
great  number  of  beasts;  as  the  ox,  the  dog,  the 
wolf,  the  hawk,  the  crocodile,  the  ibis,"  the  cat 
Ac.  Many  of  these  beasts  were  the  objects  of  the 
superstition  only  of  son.e  particular  cities:  and 
whilst  one  people  worshipped  one  species  of  ani 
mals  as  gods,  their  neighbors  held  the  same  ani 


»  Herod.  1  ii.  c.  60.  •  Ibid.  c.  39. 

i  Diod   i.  i.  p.  88.  •  Plut.de  Isid.tOsir   p.  354 

•  Pint.  Sympo*.  1.  iv.  p. 670.  «•  Id  de  Isiil.  p.  355. 

i*  Or  Egyptian  stork. 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


53 


Bals  in  abomination.  Thi«  was  the  source  of  the 
contiim.il  wars  which  were  carrieil  on  between  one 
city  and  ano<her;  an-J  this  was  owing  to  the  false 
policy  of  one  of  their  kings,  who,  to  deprive  them 
of  the  opportunity  and  mean*  of  conspiring  against 
the  st.ite,  endeavoured  to  draw  off  their  attention, 
bv  engaging  them  in  religious  contests.  I  call  this 
n'falseaiul  mistaken  policy;  because  it  directly 
thwarts  the  true  spirit  of  government,  the  aim  of 
which  is,  to  unite  all  its  members  in  the  strictest 
ties,  and  to  make  all  its  strength  consist  in  the  perfect 
harmony  of  its  several  parts. 

Every  nation  had  a  great  zeal  for  their  gods. 
Among  us,  savs  Cicero,1  it  is  very  common  to  see 
temples  robbed,  and  statues  carried  ojf;  t-ut  it  teas 
never  known,  that  any  person  in  Egypt  ever  abused 
a  crocodile,  an  ibis,  or  cat;  for  its  inhabitants 
would  have  suffered  the  most  extreme  torments, 
rather  than  be  guilty  of  such  sacriltge.  It  wa> 
death  for  any  person  to  kill  one  of  these  animals 
voluntarily;2  and  even  a  punishment  was  decreed 
against  him  who  should  have  killed  an  ibis,  or  cat, 
with  or  without  design.  Diodorus3  rel  ites  an  in- 
cident, to  which  he  himself  was  an  eve-witness  du- 
ring his  stay  in  Egypt,  —  A  Roman  having  inad- 
vertently, and  without  design,  killed  a  cat,  the 
exasperated  populace  ran  to  his  house;  and  neither 
the  authority  of  the  king,  who  immediately  de- 
tached a  body  of  his  guards,  nor  the  terror  of  the 
Roman  name,  could  rescue  the  unfortunate  crimi- 
nal. And  such  was  the  reverence  which  the  Egyp- 
tians had  for  these  animals,  that  in  an  extreme 
famine  they  chose  to  eat  one  another,  rather  than 
feed  upon  their  imagined  deities. 

Of  all  these  animals,  the  bull  Apis,  called  Epa- 
phus  by  the  Greeks,  was  the  most  famous.-*  Mag- 
nilicent  temples  were  erected  to  him;  extraordina- 
ry honors  were  paid  him  while  he  lived,  and  still 
greater  after  his  death.  Egypt  went  then  into  a 
£t-neral  mourning.  His  obsequies  were  solemnized 
with  such  pomp  as  is  hardly  credible.  In  the  reign 
if  Ptolemy  Lagus,  the  bull  Apis  dyinpof  old  age,3 
the  funeral  pomp,  besides  the  ordinary  expenses, 
amounted  to  upwards  of  fifty  thousand  French 
crowns.6  After  the  'ast  honors  had  been  paid  to 
the  deceased  god,  the  next  care  was  to  provide  him 
a  successor;  and  all  Egypt  was  sought  through  for 
that  purpose.  He  was  known  by  certain  signs, 
•which  distinguished  him  from  all  other  animals  of 
that  species;  upon  his  forehead  was  to  be  a  white 
spot,  in  form  of  a  crescent;  on  his  back,  the  figure 
of  an  eagle;  upon  his  tongue  that  of  a  beetle. 
As  soon  as  he  was  found,  mourning  gave  place  to 
joy;  and  nothing  wa*  heard,  in  all  parts  of  Egypt, 
out  festivals  and  rejoicings.  The  new  god  was 
brought  to  Memphis,  to  take  possession  of  his  dignity, 
and  there  installed  with  a  great  number  of  ceremo- 
nies. The  read«-r  will  find  hereafter,  that  Cambvses. 
at  his  return  from  his  unfortunate  expedition  against 
Ethiopia,  findingall  the  Egyptians  in  transports  of 
joy  for  the  discovery  of  their  new  god  Apis,  and  im- 
agining that  this  was  intended  as  an  insult  upon  his 
misfortunes,  killed,  in  the  first  impulse  of  his  fury, 
the  young  bull,  who  by  that  means  had  but  a  short 
enjoyment  of  his  divinity. 

It  is  plain,  that  the  golden  calf  set  up  near 
mount  Sinai  by  the  Israelites,  was  owing  to  their 
abode  in  Egypt,  and  an  imitation  of  the  god  Apis: 
is  well  as  those  which  were  afterwards  set  up  by 
Jeroboam  (who  had  resided  a  considerable  time  in 
Egypt)  in  the  two  extremities  of  the  kingdom  of 
Israel. 


i  De  nut.  Oeor.  1.  i.  n.  82.     Tusc.  <lna><<t.  I.  v.  n.  78. 
»  Herod.  I.  ii.  c.  65.  '  Di.xl.  I.  i.  p.  7-4,  75. 

•  Herod.  I.  iii.  c.  27,  &<•.  Diod.  1.  i.  |>  7(i-    Plin.  I.  viii.  c.  40. 

1  Pliny  affirms,  that  he  wan  not  allowed  to  exceed  a  cer- 
tain term  of  yearn:  and  was  drowned  in  the  priest's  well. 
tfon  e.-l  fn.<  earn  eertos  titce  trcti/rreanios,  mersumqtte  in 
Vltrr'totum  fonle  entrant.-  J\"u.L.  Huit.  1.  viii.  r,.  40. 

•  Above  11,2501.  sterling. 


The  Egyptian?,  not  contented  with  offering  in- 
cense to  animals,  carried  their  folly  to  such  au  ex- 
cess, as  to  ascribe  a  divinity  to  the  pulse  and  root* 
ol  their  gardens.  For  thfs  they  are  ingeniously 
reproached  by  the  satirist- 

'\Vho  has  not  heard  where  Egypt's  realms  are  named 
Wliat  monster-gods  her  frantic  sons  have  framed  1 
Here  Ibis  gorged  with  well-grown  serpents,  there 
The  Crocodile  commands  religious  fear. 
Where  Memnan's  statue  magic  strings  inspire 
With  vocal  sounds,  that  emulate  the" lyre; 
And  Thebes,  (such.  Fate,  are  thy  disastrous  turni !, 
Now  prostrate  o'er  her  pompous  ruins  mourns ; 
A  monkey-god,  prodigious  to  be  told  ! 
Strikes  the  beholder's  evo  with  burnished  gold. 
To  godship  here  blue  Triton's  scaly  herd, 
The  river-progeny  is  there  preferred: 
Through  towns  Diana's  power  neglected  lies. 
Where  to  her  dogs  aspiring  temples  rise  : 
And  should  you  leeks  or  onions  eat,  no  time 
Would  expiate  the  sacrilegious  crime. 
Religious  nations  sure,  and  blest  abodes, 
Where  ev'ry  orchard  is  o'er-run  with  gods. 

It  is  astonishing  to  see  a  nation  which  boasted  its 
superiority  above  all  others  with  regard  to  wisdom 
and  learning,  thus  blindly  abandon  itself  to  the 
most  gross  and  ridiculous  superstitions.  Indeed, 
to  read  of  animals  and  vile  insects,  honored  with 
religious  worship,  placed  in  temples,  and  main- 
tained with  great  care  at  an  extravagant  expense;* 
to  read  that  those  who  murdered  them  were  pun- 
ished with  death,  and  that  these  animals  were  em- 
balmed, and  solemnly  deposited  in  tombs  assigned 
them  by  the  public;  to  hear,  that  this  extravagance 
was  carried  to  such  lengths,  as  that  leeks  and  oni- 
ons were  acknowledged  as  deities;  were  invoked 
in  necessity,  and  depen-led  upon  for  succor  and 
protection;  are  absurdities  which  we.  at  this  dis- 
tance of  time,  can  scarce  believe;  and  yet  they 
have  the  evidence  of  all  antiquity.  You  enter, 
says  Lucian,9  into  a  magnificent  temple,  every  part 
of  which  glitters  with  gold  and  silver.  You'there 
look  attentively  for  a  god,  and  are  cheated  with  a 
stork,  an  ape,  or  a  cat ;  a  just  emblem,  adds  that  au- 
thor, of  too  man)'  palaces,  the  masters  of  which 
are  far  from  being  the  brightest  ornaments  of  them. 

'°Several  reasons  are  assigned  for  the  worship 
paid  to  animals  by  the  Egyptians. 

The  first  is  drawn  from' fabulous  history.  It  i* 
pretended  that  the  gods,  in  a  rebellion  made 
against  them  by  men,  fled  into  Egypt,  and  there 
concealed  themselves  under  the  form  of  different 
animals;  and  that  this  gave  birth  to  the  worship 
which  was  afterwards  paid  to  those  animals. 

The  second  is  taken  from  the  benefit  which  these 
several  animals  procure  to  mankind."  Oxen  by 
their  labor;  sheep  by  their  wool  and  milk;  dogl 
by  their  service  ill  hunting,  and  guarding  houses 
whence  the  god  Anubis  was  represented  with  a 
dog's  head:  the  ibis,  a  bird  very  much  resembling 
a  stork,  was  worshipped,  because  he  put  to  flight 
the  winged  serpents,  with  which  Egypt  would 
otherwise  have  been  grievously  infested;  the  croc- 
odile, an  amphibious  creature,  that  is,  living  alike 
upon  land  and  water,  of  a  surprising  strength  and 


iQnis  nescit,  Volns:  Bithynice,  qualia  dement 
j£gyptu*  portents  i.-olat  1    Crocodilon  ailorat 
Pars  tur-r ;  ilia  pi  vet  saturam  serpemibus  Ibin. 
Effisies  6a".ri  nitet  aurea  Cercopitheci, 
Dimiilio  masi'-je  resonant  ubi  Memnone  chordae 
Atque  vetus  Theb;-  centum  jacet  ohruta  portis. 
Illic  co3ruleos,  hie  piscem  fluminis.  illic 
Oppida  tola  canem  venorantur,  nemo  Dianam. 
Porrum  ct  ro>[>e  nefas  violate,  ac  frangere  mursu. 
O  sancta*  gentes,  quibu<  ha;c  nascuntur  in  hurti§ 
Xumina!  Jurcn.  Satir.  XT 

•  Diodorus  affirms,  that  in  his  time  the  expense  amounted 

to  no  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  crowns,  or  22.5<l01 

sterling.    Lib.  i.  p.  76        »  Imag.        «  Diod  I.  i.  p.  77.  &r- 
"  Irwi  qui  irridentur  jEgyptii,  nullam  belluam  nisi  <>• 

aliquam  utilitatem,  quam  ex  ea  cflpcrent  coiu^ciaveri'ni. 

Cie.  lib.  i.     De  nalura  Dear.  n.  101. 
£2 


54 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


iixe,1  was  wouhipecl,  because  he  defended  Egypt 
fiom  the  incursion!"  of  the  wild  Arabs;  the  ichneu- 
mon was  adored,  because  he  prevented  the  too 
great  increase  of  crocodiles,  which  might  have 
proved  destructive  to  Egypt.  Now  the  little  ani- 
inal  in  question  does  this  service  to  the  country 
two  ways.  First,  it  watches  the  lime  when  the 
trocodile  is  absent,  and  breaks  his  eggs,  but  does 
not  eat  them.  Secondly,  when  the  crocodile  is  a- 
sleep  upon  the  banks  of  the  Rile,  (and  he  always 
sleeps  with  his  mouth  open,}  the  ichneumon,  which 
lies  concealed  in  the  mud,  leaps  at  once  into  his 
mouth;  gets  down  to  his  entrails,  which  he  gnaw*; 
then  piercing  his  belly,  the  skia  of  which  is  very 
tender,  he  escapes  with  safety;  and  thus,  bj  his 
address  ai?d  subtilty,  returns  victorious  over  so  ter- 
rible an  animal. 

Philosophers,  not  satisfied  with  reasons  which 
were  too  trifling  to  account  for  such  strange  absur- 
dities as  dishonored  the  heathen  system,  and  at 
which  themselves  secretly  blushed*,  have,  since 
the  establishment  of  Christianity  supposed  a  third 
reason  for  the  worship  which  the  Egyptians  paid 
to  animals;  and  declared,  that  it  was  not  offered 
to  the  animals  themselves,  but  to  the  gods,  of 
whom  they  are  symbols.  Plutarch,2  in  nis  trea- 
tise where  he  examines  professedly  the  preten- 
sions of  Isis  and  Osiris,  the  two  most  famous  dei- 
ties of  the  Egyptians,  says  as  follows:  Philoso- 
phers honor  the  image  of  God  wherever  they  find 
it,  even  in  inanimate  beings,  and  consequently 
more  in  those  which  have  life.  IVt  are  therefore 
to  approve,  not  the  worshipers  of  these  animals, 
but  those  who,  by  their  means,  ascend  to  the  Dei- 
ty; they  are  to  be  considered  as  so  many  mirrors, 
which  nature  holds  forth,  and  in  which  the  Su- 
preme Being  displays  himself  in  a  wonderful  man- 
ner; or,  as  so  many  instruments,  which  he  makes 
use  of  to  manifest  outwardly,  his  incomprehensi- 
ble wisdom.  Should  men,  therefore,  for  the  em- 
bellishing of  statues,  amass  together  all  the  gold 
and  precious  stones  in  the  world,  the  worship  must 
not  be  rtfirred  to  the  statues;  for  the  Deity  does 
not  exist  in  colors  ar'fully  disposed,  nor  in  frail 
matter  destitute  of  sense  and  motion.  Plutarch 
says  in  the  same  treatise,3  that  as  the  sun  and 
moon,  heaven,  earth,  and  the  sea,  are  common  to  all 
men.  but  have  different  names  according  to  thi  dif- 
ference of  nations  and  languages;  in  like  matmer, 
though  there  is  but  one  Deity,  and  one  Providence 
which  governs  the  universe,  and  which  has  several 
subaltern  ministers  under  it,  men  give  to  this  De- 
ity, which  is  the  same,  different  names,  and  pay 
it  different  honors,  according  to  the  laws  and  cus- 
toms of  every  country. 

But  were  these  reflections,  which  offer  the  most 
rational  vindication  that  can  be  suggested  of  idol- 
atrous worship,  sufficient  to  cover  the  absurdity 
of  it;  and  could  it  be  called  a  raising  of  the  divine 
attributes  in  a  suitable  manner,  to  direct  the  wor- 
shiper to  admire  and  seek  for  the  image  of  them 
in  beasts  of  the  most  vile  and  contemptible  kinds, 
as  crocodiles,  serpents,  and  cats?  Was  not  this 
rather  degrading  and  debasing  the  Deity,  of  whom 
even  the  most  stupid  usually  entertain  a  much 
greater  and  more  august  ideal 

And  even  these  philosophers  were  not  always  so 
just  as  to  ascend  from  sensible  beings  to  their  in- 
visible Author.  The  Scriptures  tell  us.  that  these 
pretended  sages  deserved,  on  account  of  their  pride 
and  ingratitude,  to  be  given  over  to  a  reprobate 
mind;  and  whilst  they  professed  themselves  icise,  to 
become  f>o(s,  for  having  changed  the  glory  of  the 
incorruptible  God,  into  an  image  made  like  to  cor- 
ruptible man,  and  to  birds,  and  fntr  footed  beasts, 
and  creeping  things.*  To  show  what  man  is  when 


]  left  to  himself,  God  permitted  tha1  \f  »y  natioa. 
which  had  carried  human  wisdom  to  it*  greatest 
height,  to  be  the  theatre  in  which  the  nmst  ridic- 
ulous and  absurd  idolatry  was  acted.  And,  on  ihe 
other  side,  to  display  tiie  almighty  power  of  hit 
grace,  he  converted  the  frightful  deserts  of  Kgypt 
into  a  terrestrial  paradise;  bv  peopling  them,  lu 
the  time  appointed  by  his  providence,  witli  num- 
berless multitudes  ot  illustrious  hermits,  whose 
fervent  piety  and  rigorous  penance  have  done  so 
much  honor  to  the  Christian  religion.  I  cannot 
forbear  giving  here  a  famous  instance  of  it:  and  I 
hope  the  reader  will  excuse  this  kind  of  digres- 
sion. 

The  great  wonder  of  Lower  Egypt,  says  Abb 
Fleury  in  his  Ecclesiastical  History,*  was  the  city 
of  Oxyrinchus,  peopled  with  monks,  both  within 
and  without,  so  that  they  were  more  numeroui 
than  its  other  inhabitants.  The  public  edificei 
and  idol-temples  had  been  converted  into  monas- 
teries, and  these  likewise  were  more  in  number 
than  the  private  houses.  The  monks  lodged  even 
over  the  gates  and  in  the  towers.  The  people  had 
twelve  churches  to  assemble  in,  exclusive  of  the 
oratories  belonging  to  the  monasteries.  There 
were  twenty  thousand  virgins,  and  ten  thousand 
monks  in  this  city,  every  part  of  which  echoed 
night  and  day  with  the  praises  of  God.  By  order 
of  the  magistrates,  sentinels  were  posted"  at  the 
gates,  to  take  notice  of  all  strangers  ami  poor  who 
came  into  the  city;  and  the  inhabitants  vied  with 
each  other  who  should  first  receive  them,  in  order 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  exercising  their  hospi- 
tality towards  them. 

SECTION    II.      THE  CEREMONIES  OF  THE  EGTP- 
TIA.N    FUNERALS. 

I  SHALL  now  give  a  concise  account  of  the  fu- 
neral ceremonies  of  the  Eg\  ptians. 

The  honors  which  have  been  paid  in  all  ages  and 
nations  to  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  and  the  reli- 
gious care  which  has  always  been  taken  of  sepul- 
chres, seem  to  insinuate  a  universal  persuasion,  that 
bodies  were  lodged  in  sepulchres  merely  as  a  de- 
posite  or  trust. 

We  have  already  observed,  in  our  mention  of 
the  pyramids,  with  what  magniticence  sepulchre! 
were  built  in  Egypt;  for,  besides  that  thiv  were 
erected  as  so  many  sacred  monuments,  destined  to 
transmit  to  future  times  the  memory  of  great  prin- 
ces; they  were  likewise  considered  as  the  man- 
sions where  the  body  was  to  remain  during  a  long 
succession  of  ages:  whereas  common  house*  i\tre 
called  inns,6  in -which  men  were  to  abide  only  ai 
travelers,  and  that  during  the  course  of  a  life 
which  was  too  short  to  engage  their  affections. 

When  any  person  in  a  family  died,  all  the  kin- 
dred and  friends  quitted  their  usual  habits,  and  put 
on  mourning;  and  abstained  from  baths,  wine,  and 
dainties  of  every  kind.  This  injurning  continued 
forty  or  seventy  days;  probably  according  to  th« 
quality  of  the  person. 

Bodies  were  embalmed  three  different  ways.7 
The  most  magnificent  was  bestowed  on  persons  of 
distinguished  rank,  and  the  expense  amounted  to  a 
talent  of  silver,  or  three  thousand  I  rench  livres." 

.M;m\  hands  were  employed  in  this  ceremony.' 
Some  drew  the  brain  through  the  nostrils,  by  an 
instrument  made  for  that  purpose.  Others  empti- 
ed the  bowels  and  intestines,  bv  cutting  a  hole  in 
the  side, with  an  Ethiopian  stone  that  WHS  as  sharp 
as  a  razor;  after  which  the  cavities  were  filled 
with  perfumes  and  various  odoriferous  drugs.  As 
this  evacuation  (which  was  necessarily  attended 
with  some  dissections)  seemed  in  some  measure 
cruel  and  inhuman;  the  persons  employed  tied  M 
soon  as  the  operation  was  over,  and  were  pursued 


»  \Vlnrn,  arronlinu  to  Flrrrxlotus  i>  more  than  seventeen 
»l>it«  in  Irnj  th      l.i!>.  ii.  r.  tlf. 
«  P  :«J.  •  1'  377,  373.  *  Rom  i.  22,  23 


»  Tom.  v.  p.  ».•>.  •  Dioil.  \.  i.  p.  47. 

'  Herod.  I.  ii.  <•.  K5,  ic.          •  About  137 /.  10s.  slerl:a- 

>  Died.  1.  i.  (i.  el. 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


51) 


with  stones  by  the  standers-by.  But  those  who 
embalmed  the  body  were  honorably  treated.  They 
filled  it  with  myrrh,  cinnamon,  and  all  sorts  of 
ipices.  Alter  a  certain  time,  the  body  was  swath- 
ed in  lawn  fillets,  which  were  glued  together  with 
a  kind  of  very  thin  gum,  and  then  crusted  over 
•vitli  the  most  exquisite  perfumes.  By  this  means, 
It  is  said,  that  the  entire  figure  of  the  body,  the 
very  lineaments  of  the  face,  and  even  the  hairs  on 
the  lids  and  eye-brows,  were  preserved  in  their 
natural  perfection.  The  body  thus  embalmed  was 
delivered  to  the  relations,  who  shut  it  up  in  a  kind 
of  open  chest,  fitted  exactly  to  the  size  of  the 
corpse;  then  they  placed  it  upright  against  the 
wall,  either  in  their  sepulchres  (ii  they  had  any) 
»r  in  their  houses.  These  embalmed  bodies  are 
what  we  now  call  Mummies,  which  are  still  brought 
from  Egypt,  and  are  found  in  the  cabinets  of  the 
curious.  This  shows  the  care  which  the  Egyptians 
took  of  their  dead.  Their  gratitude  to  their  de- 
ceased relations  was  immortal.  Children,  by  see- 
ing the  bodies  of  their  ancestors  thus  preserved, 
recalled  to  mind  those  virtues  for  which  the  public 
had  honored  them;  and  were  excited  to  a  love  of 
those  laws  which  such  excellent  persons  had  left 
for  their  security.  We  find  that  part  of  these  cer- 
eiuonies  were  performed  in  the  funeral  honors  paid 
to  Joseph  in  Egypt. 

I  have  said  that  the  public  recognised  the  vir- 
tues of  deceased  persons,  because  that,  before 
they  could  be  admitted  into  the  sacred  asylum  of 
the  tomb,  they  underwent  a  solemn  trial.  And 
this  circumstance  in  the  Egyptian  funerals,  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  to  be  found  in  ancient  his- 
tory. 

ft  was  a  consolation  among  the  heathens,  to  a 
dying  man,  to  leave  a  good  name  behind  him;  and 
tfiey  imagined  that  this  is  the  only  human  blessing 
of  which  death  cannot  deprive  us.  But  the  Egyp- 
tians would  not  suffer  praises  to  be  bestowed  indis- 
criminately on  all  deceased  persons.  This  honor 
Mas  to  be  obtained  only  from  the  public  voice. 
The  assembly  of  the  judges  met  on  the  other  side 
of  a  lake,  which  they  crossed  in  a  boat.  He^  who 
sat  at  the  helm  was  called  Charon,  in  the  Egyp- 
tian language;  and  this  first  gave  the  hint  to  Or- 
pheus, who  had  been  in  Egypt,  and  after  him  to 
the  other  Greeks  to  invent  the  fiction  of  Charon's 
boat.  As  soon  as  a  man  was  dead,  he  was  brought 
to  his  trial.  The  public  accuser  was  heard.  If 
he  proved  that  the  deceased  had  led  a  bad  life,  his 
Diemorv  was  condemned,  and  he  was  deprived  of 
burial.  The  people  admired  the  power  of  the 
laws,  which  extended  even  beyond  tfie  grave;  and 
every  one,  struck  with  the  disgrace  inflicted  on  the 
dead  person,  was  afraid  to  reflect  dishonor  on  his 
own  memory  and  his  family.  But  if  the  deceaseil 
person  was  not  convicted  of  any  crime,  he  was  in- 
terred in  an  honorable  manner. 

A  still  more  astonishing  circumstance,  in  this 
public  inquest  upon  the  dead,  was,  that  the  throne 
itself  was  no  protection  from  it.  Kings  were  spar- 
ed dun  \z  their  lives,  because  the  public  peace  was 
concerns  in  this  forbearance;  but  their  quality 
did  not  exempt  them  from  the  judgment  passed 
upon  the  dead,  and  even  some  of  them  were  de- 
p'ived  of  sepulture.  This  custom  was  imitated  by 
the  Israelites.  We  see,  in  Scripture,  that  bad 
kings  were  not  interred  in  (he  monuments  of  their 
ancestors.  This  practice  suggested  to  princes, 
that  if  their  majesty  placed  them  out  of  the  reach 
of  men's  judgment  while  they  were  alive,  they 
wouU  at  last  be  liable  to  it,  when  death  should  re- 
duce them  to  a  level  with  their  subjects. 

When  therefore  a  favorable  judgment  was  pro- 
nounced on  a  deceased  person,  the  next  thing  was 
to  proceed  to  the  ceremonies  of  interment.  In  his 
pant-ir\  ric,  no  mention  was  made  of  his  birth,  be- 
cause everv  Egyptian  was  detnied  noble.  No 
yraisci  were  considered  as  just  or  true,  but  such  as 


related  to  the  personal  merit  of  the  deceased.  He 
was  applauded  for  having  received  an  excellent 
education  in  his  younger  years;  and  in  his  more 
advanced  age,  for  having  cultivated  piety  toward* 
the  gods,  justice  towards  men,  gentleness,  modes- 
ty, moderation,  and  all  other  virtues  which  consti- 
tute the  good  man.  Then  all  the  people  besought 
the  gods  to  receive  the  deceased  into  the  assembly 
of  the  just,  and  to  admit  him  as  partaker  with  them 
of  their  everlasting  felicity. 

To  conclude  this  article  of  the  ceremonies  of  fu- 
nerals, it  mav  not  be  amiss  to  observe  to  young 
pupils,  the  different  manners  in  which  the  bodies 
of  the  dead  were  treated  by  the  ancients.  Some, 
as  we  observed  of  the  Egyptians,  exposed  them  to 
view  after  they  had  been  embalmed,  and  thus  pre- 
served them  to  after  ages:  others,  as  the  Romans, 
burnt  them  on  a  funeral  pile;  and  others,  again 
laid  them  in  the  earth. 

The  care  to  preserve  bodies  without  lodging 
them  in  tombs,  appears  injurious  to  human  na- 
ture in  general,  and  to  those  persons  in  particular 
to  whom  respect  is  designed  to  be  shown  by  this 
custom  ;  because  it  exposes  too  visibly  their  wretch- 
ed state  and  deformity  ;  since  whatever  care  may 
he  taken,  spectators  see  nothing  but  the  nulan- 
choly  and  frightful  remains  of  what  they  once 
were.  The  custom  of  burning  dead  bodies  has 
something  in  it  cruel  and  barbarous,  in  destroying 
so  hastily  the  remains  of  persons  once  dear  to  us. 
That  of  interment  is  certainly  the  most  ancient  and 
religious.  It  restores  to  the  earth  what  had  been 
taken  from  it;  and  prepares  our  belief  of  a  sec- 
ond restitution  of  our  bodies,  from  that  dust  of 
which  they  were  at  first  formed. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE   EGYPTIAN   SOLDIERS   AND   WAR. 

THE  profession  of  arms  was  in  great  repute  a- 
mong  the  Egyptians.  After  the  sacerdotal  fami- 
lies, the  most  illustrious,  as  with  us,  were  those 
devoted  to  a  military  life.  They  were  not  only 
distinguished  by  honors,  but  by  ample  liberalities. 
Every  soldier  was  allowed  twelve  Aroune;  that  is, 
a  piece  of  arable  land  very  near  answering  to  half 
a  French  acre,1  exempt  from  all  tax  or  tribute. 
Besides  this  privilege,  each  soldier  received  a  daily 
allowance  of  five  pounds  of  bread,  two  of  flesh, 
and  a  quart  of  wine.2  This  allowance  was  suffi- 
cient to  support  part  of  their  family.  Such  an  in- 
dulgence made  them  more  affectionate  to  the  per- 
son of  their  prince,  and  the  interests  of  their  coun 
try,  and  more  resolute  in  the  defence  of  both;  and 
as  Diodorus3  observes,  it  was  thought  inconsistent 
with  good  policy,  and  even  common  sense,  to  com- 
mit the  defence  of  a  country  to  men  who  had  no 
interest  in  its  preservation. 

Four  hundred  thousand  soldiers  were  kept  in 
continual  pay;4  all  natives  of  Egypt,  and  trained  up 
in  the  exactest  discipline.  They  were  inured  to 
the  fatigues  of  war,  by  a  severe  and  rigorous  educa- 
tion. There  is  an  art  of  forming  the  body  ns.well  as 
the  mind.  This  art,  lost  by  our  sloth,  was  well  known 
to  the  ancients,  and  especially  to  the  Egyptians 
Foot,  horse,  and  chariot-races,  were  performed  in 
Egypt  with  wonderful  agility,  and  the  world  could 


i  Twrlve  Jtroura.  An  Egyptian  drour*  was  10.000 
square  i-ubiti.  equal  to  three  rood*,  two  perches,  5oj  square 
feet  ofour  measure. 

»  The  Greek  ii,  >inv  -rirrxfi;  »pu«-T«pi;,  which  wime 
have  made  to  signify  a  determinate  quantity  of  wine,  or 
any  other  liquid  :  others,  regarding  the  etymology  of  th« 
word  *f>v9T»*,  have  trannlatfd  it  by  han.ttrum,  a  bucket,  ai 
Lucretiua.  lib.  v.  51 ;  utheri  by  hau.itu*  a  draught,  or  sup. 
HiTodotu*  »ay«,  this-  allowance  was  given  only  to  'he  -w< 
Ihounaml  guards,  who  attended  annually  on  the  kinjt 
Lib.  ii.  t.  II*. 

»  Lib.  i.  p.  67  «  Herod.  I   ii.  c..  164  J08. 


56 


MANNP;RS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


not  snow  better  horsemen  than  the  Egyptians.  The 
Scripture  in  several  places'  speaks  advantageously 
of  their  cavalry. 

Miiititry  laws  were  easily  preserved  in  Egypt,  be- 
cause sons  received  them  from  their  fathers;  the 
profession  of  war,  as  all  others,  being  transmitted 
from  father,  to  son.  Those  who  fled  in  battle,  or 
discovered  any  signs  of  cowardice,  were  only  dis- 
tinguished by  some  particular  mark  of  ignominy  ;* 
it  being  thought  more  advisable  to  restrain  them  by 
•notivesof  honor,  than  by  the  terrors  ot  punishment. 

But  notwithstanding  this,  I  will  not  pretena  to 
say,  that  the  Egyptians  were  a  warlike  people.  It 
is  "of  little  advantage  to  have  regular  and  well-paid 
troops;  to  have  armies  exercised  in  peace,  and  em- 
ployed only  in  mock  tights:  it  is  waralone,  and  real 
combats,  which  form  the  soldier.  Egypt  loved 
peace,  because  it  loved  justice,  and  maintained 
soldiers  only  for  its  security.  Its  inhabitants,  con- 
tent with  a  country  which  abounded  in  all  things, 
had  no  ambitious  dreams  of  conquest.  The  Egyp- 
tians extended  their  reputation  in  a  very  different 
manner,  by  sending  colonies  into  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  with  them  laws  and  politeness.  They 
triumphed  by  the  wisdom  of  their  counsels,  and  the 
superiority  of  their  knowledge;  and  this  empire  of 
the  mind  appeared  more  noble  and  glorious  to  them, 
than  that  which  ii  achieved  by  arms  and  conquest. 
Put,  nevertheless,  Egypt  has  given  birth  to  i.'lus- 
tiious  conquerors,  as  will  be  observed  hereafter, 
when  we  come  to  treat  of  its  kings. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  THEIR   ARTS   AND   SCIENCES. 

THE  Egyptians  had  an  inventive  genius,  but  cli- 
i«?cted  it  only  to  useful  projects.  Their  Mercuries 
filled  Egypt  with  wonderful  inventions,  and  left  it 
scarcely  ignorant  of  any  thing  which  could  con- 
tribute to  accomplish  the  mind,  or  procure  ease 
and  happiness.  The  discoverers  of  any  useful  in- 
vention received,  both  living  and  dead,  rewards 
worthy  of  their  profitable  labors.  It  is  this  which 
consecrated  the  books  of  their  two  Mercuries,  and 
stamped  them  with  a  divine  authority.  The  first 
libraries  were  in  Egypt;  and  the  titles  they  bore  in- 
spired an  eager  desire  to  enter  them,  and  dive  into 
the  set  rets  they  contained.  They  were  called  the 
remedy  for  the  diseases  of  the  soul,3  and  that  very 
justly,  because  the  soul  was  there  cured  of  igno- 
rance, the  roost  dangerous,  and  the  parent  of  all 
other  maladies. 

As  their  country  was  level,  and  the  sky  always 
serene  and  unclouded,  the  Egyptians  were  among 
the  first  who  observed  the  courses  of  the  planets. 
These  observations  led  them  to  regulate  the  year* 
from  the  course  of  the  sun;  for,  as  Diodorus  ob- 
serves, their  year,  from  the  most  remote  antiquity, 
was  composed  of  three  hundred  sixty  five  days  and 
six  hours.  To  adjust  the  property  of  their  lands, 
which  were  every  year  covered  by  the  overflowing 
of  the  Nile,  they  were  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
surveys:  and  this  first  taught  them  geometry. 
They  were  great  observers  of  nature,  which,  in  a 
climate  so  serene,  and  under  so  intense  a  sun,  was 
vigorous  and  fruitful. 


«  Cant.  i.  9.     Isa.  xxxvi.  9. 


»  Died.  p.  76. 


«  It  will  not  seem  surprising  that  the  Egyptians,  who 
were  the  most  ancient  observers  of  the  celestial  motions, 
ihouM  have  arrived  to  this  knowledge,  when  it  is  considered 
that  the  lunar  year,  made  use  of  by  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
though  it  appears  so  ineonvenient  and  irrejrular,  supposed 
nevertlieles*  a  knowledge  of  the  solar  year,  such  as  Diortorus 
Siculus  ascribes  to  the  Egyptian*.  It  will  npjieiir  «t  first 
siirtit.  by  calculating  their  intercalations,  that  those  who 
fir*!  divided  the  year  in  thin  manner,  were  not  ignorant, 
that  to  three  hundred  sixty-five  days  some  hours  were  to  l>e 
added,  to  keep  pace  with  the  sun.  Their  only  error  lay  in 
the  supposition  that  only  six  hours  were  wanting:  whereas 
an  addition  of  almost  eleven  minutes  more  wan  requisite. 


Ey  this  study  and  application  they  invented  or 
improved  the  science  ot  physic.  The  sick  were 
not  abandoned  to  the  arbitrary  will  and  caprice  ot 
the  physician.  He  was  obliged  to  follow  fixed 
rules,  which  were  the  observations  of  old  and  ex- 
perienced practitioners,  and  written  in  the  sacred 
books.  While,  these  rules  were  observed,  the 
physician  was  not  answerable  for  the  success; 
otherwise,  a  miscarriage  cost  him  his  life.  This  law 
checked,  indeed,  the  temerity  of  empirics;  but 
then  it  might  prevent  new  discoveries,  and  keep 
the  art  from  attaining  to  its  just  perfection.  Every 
physician,  if  Herodotus5  may  be  credited,  confined 
his  practice  to  the  cure  of  one  disease  only;  on 
was  for  the  eyes,  another  for  the  tetth,  and  so  on 

What  we  have  said  of  the  pyramids,  the  laby 
rinth,  and  that  infinite  number  of  obelisks,  tem- 
ples, and  palaces,  whose  precious  remains  still 
strike  the  beholder  with  admiration,  and  in  which 
the  magnificence  of  the  princes  who  raised  them, 
the  skill  of  the  workmen,  the  riches  ot  the  orna- 
ments diffused  over  every  part  of  them,  and  the 
just  proportion  tod  beautiful  symmetry  ot  the  parts, 
in  which  their  greatest  beauty  consisted,  seemed  to 
vie  with  each  other:  works,  in  many  of  which  the 
liveliness  of  the  colors  remains  to  this  dav.  in  spite 
of  the  rude  hand  of  tune,  which  Commonly  deadens 
or  destroys  them:  all  this,  1  say,  shows  the  perfec- 
tion to  which  architecture,  painting,  sculpture,  and 
all  other  arts,  had  arrived  in  Egypt. 

The  Egyptians  entertained  but  a  mean  opinion 
of  those  gymnastic  exercises,  which  did  not  con- 
tribute to  invigorate  the  body,  or  improve  health;' 
as  well  as  of  music,"  which  they  considered  as  a 
diversion  not  only  ustless  but  dangerous,  and  onl? 
fit  to  enervate  the  mind. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF    THEIR  HUSBANDMKN,    SHEPHERDS,     AND   AR- 
TIFICERS. 

HUSBANDMEN,  shepherds,  and  artificers,  form* 
ed  the  three  classes  of  lower  life  in  Egypt,  but 
were  nevertheless  had  in  very  great  esteem, 
particularly  husbandmen  and  shepherds.8  Th« 
body  pol'ulc  requires  a  superiority  anil  subordina- 
tion of  its  several  members;  for  as,  in  the  natural 
body,  the  eye  may  be  said  to  hold  the  first  rank 
yet  its  lustre  does  not  dart  contempt  upon  the  feet, 
the  hands,  or  even  on  those  parts  which  are  less 
h  morable.  In  like  manner,  among  the  Egyptians, 
the  priests,  soldiers,  and  scholars,  were  distinguish* 
ed  by  particular  honors;  but  all  professions,  to  the 
meanest,  had  their  share  in  the  public  esteem,  be- 
cause the  despising  any  man,  whose  labors,  however 
mean,  were  useful  to  the  state,  was  thought  a  crime, 

A  better  reason  than  the  foregoing  might  have 
inspired  them  at  the  first  with  these  sentiments  of 
equity  and  moderation,  which  they  so  long  pre- 
served. As  they  all  descended  from  Cham,9  their 
common  father,'  the  memory  of  their  still  recent 
origin  occurring  to  the  minds  of  all  in  those  first 
ages, established  amongthem  a  kind  of  ef'iliiy,  and 
stamped,  in  their  opinion,  a  nobility  on  every  per- 
son derived  from  the  common  stock.  Indeed,  the 
difference  of  conditions,  and  the  contempt  with 
which  persons  of  the  lowest  rank  are  treated,  are 
owing  merely  to  the  distance  from  the  common 
root;  which  makes  us  forget  that  the  meanest  ple- 
beian, when  his  descent  is  traced  back  to  the 
source,  is  equally  noble  with  those  of  the  most  ele- 
vated rank  and  titles. 

Be  that  as  it  will,  no  profession  in  Egypt  was 
considered  as  grovelling  or  sordid  Hy  this  mrans 
arts  were  raised  to  their  highest  perfection.  The 


•  Lib.  ii.  c.  84. 


•  Diod.  I.  i.  p.  73. 


Diod.  I.  i.  p.  07,08. 


»  Or  Ilara 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


57 


fannor  which  cherished  them  mixed  with  every 
thought  and  care  for  their  improvement.  Every 
man  had  his  way  of  life  assigned  him  by  the  laws, 
»nd  it  was  perpetuated  from  father  to  son.  Two 
professions  at  one  time,  or  a  change  of  that  which 
a  man  was  born  to,  were  never  allowed.  By  this 
means,  men  became  mare  able  and  expert  in  em- 
DVovments  which  they  had  always  exercised  from 
their  infancy;  and  every  man  adding  his  own  ex- 
perien<~e  to  that  of  his  ancestors,  was  more  capa- 
ble of  attaining  perfection  in  his  particular  art. 
Besides,  this  wholesome  institution,  which  had 
been  established  anciently  throughout  Egypt,  ex- 
tinguished all  irregular  ambition;  and  taught  eve- 
ry man  to  sit  down  contented  with  his  condition, 
without  aspiring  to  one  more  elevated,  from  inter- 
est, vain-glory,  or  levity. 

From  this  source  flowed  numberless  inventions 
for  the  improvements  of  all  the  arts,  and  for  ren- 
dering life  more  commodious,  and  trade  more  easy. 
I  once  could  not  believe  that  Diodorus1  was  in 
earnest,  in  what  he  relates  concerning  the  Egyp- 
tian industry,  viz.  that  this  people  had  found  out  a 
way,  by  an  artificial  fecundity,  tohaich  eggs  without 
the  sitting  of  the  hen;  but  all  modern  travelers  de- 
clare it  to  be  the  fact,  which  certainly  is  worthy  of 
our  investigation,  and  is  said  to  be  practised  also  in 
Europe.  Their  relations  inform  us,  that  the  Egyp- 
tians stow  eggs  in  ovens,  which  are  heated  to  such 
a  temperament,  and  with  such  just  proportion  to 
the  natural  warmth  of  the  hen,  that  the  chickens 
produced  by  these  means  are  as  strong  as  those 
which  are  hatched  the  natural  way.  1  he  season 
of  the  year  proper  for  this  operation  is,  from  the 
end  of  December  to  the  end  of  April;  the  heat  in 
Egypt  beinj  too  violent  in  the  other  months.  Du- 
ring these  four  months,  upwards  of  three  hundred 
thousand  eggs  are  laid  in  theseovens,  which,  though 
they  are  not  all  successful,  nevertheless  produce  vast 
numbers  of  fowls  at  an  easy  rate.  The  art  lies  in  aiv- 
ing  the  ovens  a  due  degree  of  heat,  which  must  not 
exceed  a  fixed  proportion.  About  ten  days  are  bes- 
towed in  heatingtheseovens,  and  very  near  as  much 
time  in  hatching  the  eggs.  It  is  very  entertaining, 
say  these  travelers,  to  observe  the  hatching  of  these 
chickens,  some  of  which  show  at  frst  nothing 
but  their  heads,  others  but  half  their  bodies,  and 
others  again  come  quite  out  of  the  egg:  these  last, 
the  moment  they  are  hatched,  make  their  way  over 
the  unhatched  eggs,  and  form  a  diverting  specta- 
cle. Corneille  le  Bruyn,  in  his  Travels,2  has  col- 
.ected  the  observations  of  other  travelers  on  this 
subject.  Pliny3  likexvise  mentions  it;  but  it  appears 
from  him,  that  the  Egyptians,  anciently,  employed 
warm  dung,  not  ovens,  to  hatch  eggs. 

I  have  said,  that  husbandmen  particularly,  and 
(hose  who  took  care  of  flocks,  were  in  great  esteem 
in  Egypt,  some  parts  of  it  excepted,  where  the  lat- 
ter were  not  suffered.4  It  was.  indeed,  to  these 
two  professions  that  Kgvpt  owed  its  riches  and 
plenty.  It  is  astonishing  to  reflect  what  advanta- 
ges the  Egyptians  by  their  art  and  labor,  drew  from 
a  country  of  no  great  extent,  but  whose  soil  was 
made  wonderfully  fruitful  by  the  inundations  of  the 
Nile,  an  !  the  laborious  industry  of  the  inhabitants. 

It  will  be  always  so  with  every  kingdom,  whose 
governors  direct  all  their  actions  to  the  public  wel- 
fare. The  culture  of  Ian. Is,  and  the  breeding  of 
cattle,  will  be  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  wealth  in 
all  countries,  where,  as  in  !''irvpt,  these  profita- 
ble callings  are  supported  and  encourage:!  bv  max- 
ims of  *tate  and  policy :  and  we  may  consider  it  as 
a  misfortune,  that  they  are  at  present  fallen  into  so 
general  a  disesteem;  though  it  is  from  them  that 


•  Riod.  I.  i.  p.  67.         »  Tom.  ii.  p.  C4.         »  Lib.  x.  e.  54. 

«  Swineherds,  in  particular,  had  a  general  ill  nume 
l.'irou^hout  E^\pt,a«  they  Mad  the  care  of  so  impure  an 
lnim.il.  Jleroaotus  (I.  ii.  c.  -IT.')  H-lls  u<,  that  they  \vtre  mil 
permitted  to  enter  the  Egyptian  temples,  nor  would  any 
man  give  them  his  daughter  in  marriage. 
\  OL.  1—8 


the  most  elevated  ranks  (as  we  esteem  them)  are 
furnished,  not  only  with  the  necessaries,  but  even 
the  luxuries,  of  life.  For,  says  Abbe  i'li-ury.  in 
his  admirable  work.  Of  the  Planners  cf  the  Israel- 
ites, where  the  subject  1  am  upon  is  thoroughly  ex- 
amined, it  is  the  peas.-int  who  feeds  the  citizen,  the 
magistrate,  the  gentleman,  the  ecclesiastic:  and 
whatever  artifice  and  crafl  may  be  used  to  convert 
money  into  commodities,  and  these  back  again  into 
money;  yet  all  must  ultimately  be  owned  to  he  re- 
ceived from  the  products  of  the  earth,  and  the  ani- 
mals tchich  it  sustains  and  nourishes.  JVeverthe- 
less,  when  we  compare  men's  different  stations  of 
life  together,  we  gice  the  loicest  place  to  the  hits- 
bandman;  and  wi/h  many  people  a  tceal/liy  citizen, 
enervated  iciih  sloth,  useless  to  the  public,  and  void 
of  all  merit,  has  the  preference,  merely  because  hte 
has  more  money,  and  lives  a  more  easy  and  de- 
lightful life. 

hut  let  us  imagine  to  ourselves  a  country  where 
so  great  difference  is  not  made  between  the  several 
conditions;  where  the  life  of  a  nobleman  is  not 
made  to  consist  in  idleness,  and  doing  nothing,  but 
in  a  careful  preservation  cf  his  liberty ;  that  is,  in  a 
due  subjection  to  the  laics  and  the  constitution;  by  a 
man's  subsisting  u/ion  his  estate  without  a  depend- 
ance  on  anyone,  and  being  contented  to  enjoy  a  little 
with  liberty,  rather  than  a  great  deal  at  the  price 
of  mean  and  base  compliances:  a  country,  irhose 
sloth,  effeminacy,  and  the  ignorance  of  things 
necessary  for  life,  are  held  in  just  contempt;  and 
where  pleasure  is  less  valued  than  health  and  bodily 
strength:  in  such  a  country,  it  will  be  much,  more 
for  a  man's  reputation  to  plough  and  keep  flocks, 
than  to  waste  all  Ids  hours  in  sauntering  from  place 
to  place,  in  gaming  and  expensive  diversions. 

But  we  need  not  have  recourse  to  Plato's  com- 
monwealth, for  instances  of  men  who  have  led 
these  useful  lives.  It  was  thus  that  the  greatest 
part  of  mankind  lived  during  near  four  thousand 
years;  and  that  not  only  the  Israelites,  but  the 
Egyptians,  the  Greeks,  and  the  Romans,  that  is  to 
say,  nations  the  most  civilized,  and  must  renowned 
for  arms  and  wisdom.  They  all  inculcate  the  re- 
gard which  ought  to  be  pa'id  to  agriculture,  and 
the  breeding  of  cattle:  one  of  wh-ict  (without  say- 
ing any  thing  of  hemp  and  flax,  so  necessary  for 
our  clothing)  supplies  us  by  corn,  fruits  and  pulse, 
with  not  only  a  plentiful  but  delicious  nourish- 
ment; and  the  other,  besides  its  supply  of  exqui- 
site meats  to  cover  our  tables,  almost  alone  gives 
life  to  manufactures  and  trade,  by  the  skins  and 
stuiTs  it  furnishes. 

Princes  are  commonly  desirous,  and  their  inter- 
est certainly  requires  it,  that  the  peasant  who,  in  a 
literal  sense,  sustains  the  heat  and  burden  of  the 
day.  and  pays  so  great  a  proportion  of  the  nation- 
al taxes,  should  meet  with  favor  and  encourage- 
ment. But  the  kind  and  good  intentions  of  princes 
are  too  often  defeated  by  the  insatiable  and  merci- 
less avarice  of  those  who  are  appointed  to  collect 
their  revenues.  History  has  transmitted  to  us  a 
fine  saying  of  Tiberius  on  this  head: — A  praefect 
of  Egypt  having  augmented  the  annual  tribute  of 
the  province,  and  doubtless,  with  the  view  of  ma- 
ing  his  court  to  the  emperor,  remitted  to  him  - 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THK   FERTILITY    OF    EGYPT. 
UNDER  this  head,    I    shall  treat  only  of    sonif 
plants  peculiar  to  Egypt,  and  of  the  abundance  of 
corn  which  it  produced. 


»  Xi|iln!iii.  in  apophthegm.  Tib.  Cxn. 


58 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS. 


Papyrus.  This  is  a  plant  from  the  root  of  which 
(hoot  out  a  great  many  triangular  stalks,  to  the 
height  of  six  or  seven  cubits.  The  ancients'  writ 
•it  first  upon  palm-leaves;  next  on  the  inside  of  the 
bark  of  trees,  from  whence  the  word  liber,  or 
book,  is  derived ;  after  that,  upon  tables  covered 
over  with  wax,  on  which  the  characters  were  im- 
pressed with  an  instrument  called  Stylus,  sharp- 
pointed  at  one  end  to  write  with,  and  Hat  at  the 
other,  to  efface  what  had  been  written:  which  gave 
occasion  to  the  following  expression  of  Horace: 
Sa:pe  stylum  vertas,  itcrum  qua>  digna  legi  shit 
Scripturus:  Sat.  lib.  i.  x.  ver.  72. 

Oft  turn  your  style,  if  you  desire  to  write 
Things  that  will  bear  a  second  reading — 

The  meaning  of  which  is,  that  a  good  performance 
re  not  to  be  expected  without  many  erasures  and 
corrections.  At  last  the  use  of  paper2  was  intro- 
duced, and  this  was  made  of  the  bark  of  Papyrus, 
divided  into  thin  flakes  or  leaves,  which  were  very 
proper  for  writing:  and  this  Papyrus  was  likewise 
called  Byblus: 

Nomlum  flumineas  Memphis  contejrere  byblos 
Noverat. — Lacon. 

Memphis  as  yet  knew  not  to  form  in  leaves 
The  watery  byblos. 

Pliny  calls  it  a  wonderful  invention,3  so  useful 
to  life,  that  it  preserves  the  memory  of  great  ac- 
tions, and  immortalizes  those  who  achieved  them. 
Varro  ascribes  this  invention  to  Alexander  the 
Great,  when  he  built  Alexandria;  but  he  had  only 
the  merit  of  making  paper  more  common,  for  the 
invention  was  of  much  greater  antiquity.  The 
same  Pliny  adds,  that  Eumanes,  king  of  Pergamus, 
substituted  parchment  instead  of  paper;  in  emula- 
tion of  Ptolemy,  king  of  Egypt,  whose  library  he 
was  ambitious  to  excel  by  this  invention,  which 
had  the  advantage  over  paper.  Parchment  is  the 
skin  of  a  sheep,  dressed  and  made  fit  to  write  upon. 
It  was  called  Pergamenum  from  Pergamus,  wnose 
kings  had  the  honor  of  the  invention.  All  the  an- 
cient manuscripts  are  either  upon  parchment  or  vel- 
lum, which  is  calf-skin,  and  a  great  deal  finer  than 
the  common  parchment.  It  is  very  curious  to  see 
white  fine  paper  wrought  out  of  filthy  rags,  picked 
up  in  the  streets.  The  plant  Papyrus  was  useful 
likewise  for  sails,  tackling,  clothes,  coverlets,4  <fcc. 

Linum.  Flax  is  a  plant  whose  bark,  full  of  fibres 
or  strings,  is  useful  in  making  fine  linen.  The  me- 
thod of  making  this  linen  in  Egypt  was  wonderful, 
and  carried  to  such  perfection,  that  the  threads 
which  were  drawn  out  of  them,  were  almost  too 
small  for  the  observation  of  the  sharpest  eye. 
Priests  were  always  habited  in  linen,  and  never  in 
woollen;  and  all  persons  of  distinction  generally 
wore  linen  clothes.  This  flax  formed  a  considera- 
ble branch  of  the  Egyptian  trade,  and  great  quan- 
tities of  it  were  exported  into  foreign  countries. 
The  manufacture  of  flax  employed  a  great  number 
of  hands  in  Egypt,  especially  of  the  women,  as  ap- 
pears from  that  passage  of  Isaiah,  in  which  the 
prophet  menaces  Egypt  with  a  drought  of  so  ter- 
rible a  nature,  that  it  should  interrupt  every  kind 
of  labor:  Moreover,  they  that  work  in  Jin e  flax, 
and  they  that  weave  net-works,  shall  be  confound- 
ed.5 We  likewise  find  in  Scripture,  that  one  effect 
of  the  plague  of  hail,  called  down  by  Moses  upon 
Egypt,*  was  the  destruction  of  all  the  flax  which 
was  then  boiled.  This  storm  was  in  March. 

Byssus.  This  was  another  kind  of  (lax7  ex- 
tremely fine  and  delicate,  which  often  received  a 


>  Plin.  I.  xiii.  c.  11. 

»Tlie  papyrus  was  divided  into  thin  flakes  (into  which 
it  naturally  parted.)  which  beinj;  laid  on  a  table,  and  mois- 
ten" il  with  the  glutinous  waters  of  the  Nile,  were  after- 
war. Is  pressed  together,  and  drird  in  the  sun. 

*  Postea  promisnuc  patuit  usus  rei,  qua  constnt  irnmor- 
tnlitiis  hominum.     .     .     .     Charlie  n«n  mnximc  humanitas 
WHiKlat  in  nicmoriu.  •  Plin.  I.  \iv.  c.  I. 

•  Isaiah  xix.  9.       •  Exod.  ix.  31.       1  Plin.  lib.  xix.  c.  1. 


purple  dye.  It  was  very  dear;  and  none  but  ricn 
and  wealthy  persons  could  afford  to  wear  it.  Pli.iy, 
who  gives  the  first  place  to  the  Asbeston  or  As- 
bestinum  (i.  e.  the  incombustible  flax,)  places  :h* 
Byssus  in  the  next  rank;  and  says,  that  the  dresn 
and  ornaments  of  the  ladies  were  made  of  it  »  It 
appears  from  the  Holy  Scriptures,  that  it  was  chief- 
ly from  Egypt  that'  cloth  made  of  this  fine,  tlax 
was  brought:  Fine  linen  with  broidered  work 
from  Egypt* 

I  take  no  notice  of  the  Lotus,  a  very  common 
plant,  and  in  great  request  among  the  Egyptians, 
of  whose  berries  in  former  times  they  made  bread- 
There  was  another  Lotus  in  Africa  which  gave  its 
name  to  the  Lotophagi,  or  Lotus  eaters;  because 
they  lived  upon  the  fruit  of  klis  tree,  which  had 
so  delicious  a  taste,  if  Homer  may  be  credited, 
that  it  made  those  who  ate  it  forget  all  the  sweets 
of  their  native  country,  as  Ulyssus  foftnd  to  his 
cost  in  his  return  from  Troy.10 

In  general  it  may  be  said,  that  the  Egyptian 
pulse  and  fruits  were  excellent;  and  might,  ai 
Pliny  observes,"  have  sufficed  singly  for  the  nour- 
ishment of  the  inhabitants;  such  was  their  excel- 
lent quality,  and  so  great  their  plenty.  And  indeed 
working  men  lived  then  almost  upon  nothing  else, 
as  appears  from  those  who  were  employed  in  build- 
ing the  pyramids. 

Besides  these  rural  riches,  the  Nile,  from  its  fish, 
and  the  fatness  it  gave  to  the  soil  for  the  feeding 
of  cattle,  furnished  the  tables  of  the  Egyptian! 
with  the  most  exquisite  fish  of  every  kind,  and  the 
most  succulent  flesh.  This  it  was  which  made  the 
Israelites  so  deeply  regret  the  loss  of  Egypt,  when 
they  found  themselves  in  the  wilderness.  Who, 
say  they,  in  a  plaintive  and  at  the  same  time  sedi- 
tious tone,  shall  give  us  flesh  to  eat  f  We  remem- 
ber the  flesh  which  we  did  eat  in  Egypt  freely ;  th* 
cucumbers,  and  the  melons,  and  the  leeks,  and  tht 
onions,  and  the  garlick.}2  We  sat  by  the  fles» 
pots,  and  we  did  eat  bread  to  the  full  l3 

But  the  great  and  matchless  wealth  of  Egypt 
arose  from  its  corn,  which,  even  in  an  almost  uni 
versa!  famine,  enabled  it  to  support  nil  the  neigh 
boring  nations,  as  it  particularly  did  under  Josepn'» 
administration.  In  later  ages  it  was  the  resourc* 
and  most  certain  granary  of  Rome  and  Constant! 
nople.  It  is  a  well  known  story,  how  a  calumnj 
raised  against  St.  Athanasius,  viz.  of  his  havin; 
threatened  to  prevent  in  future  the  importation  o' 
corn  into  Constantinople  from  Alexandria,  incen 
sed  the  emperor  Constantirie  against  that  holi 
bishop,  because  he  knew  that  his  capital  city  couli 
not  subsist  without  the  corn  which  was  brought  ii 
it  from  Egypt.  The  same  reason  induced  a'l  th< 
smperors  of  Rome  to  take  so  ^reat  a  care  of  Egypt 
which  they  considered  as  the  nursing-mother  ot 
the  world's  metropolis. 

Nevertheless,  the  same  river  which  enabled  thi«- 
province  to  subsist  the  two  mrU  populous  cities  ir. 
the  world,  sometimes  reduced  even  Egypt  itself  to 
the  most  terrible  famine;  and  it  is  astonishing  that 
Joseph's  wise  foresight,  which  ii  fruitful  years  had 
made  provisions  for  seasons  oi  sterility,  should  not 


i  Proximus  Byssino  mulierum  mntime  deliciis  penile 
inventumjam  eat  etiam  [scilicet  Lhmmj  quotl  iifnibus  nan 
alMitmetur,  rirum  id  vacant,  ardtnte*'\ue  in  foci*  conrii-io- 
nim  ex  eo  vidimus  mappas,  sordibus  ttustis  gplentlfscewttt 
iffni  mnifiz,  i/ 11  am  po.tstnt  ai/uis:  i.  e.  A  flax  is  nuw  found 
out,  which  is  proof  against  the  violent!1?  of  tire;  it  is  culled 
living  flux;  and  wo  have  seen  table  DApkhllof  it  {.'lowing 
in  the  fires  of  our  dining-rooms,  and  rej-'vinga  lustre  and  a 
cleanliness  from  flames  which  no  water  could  have  given  it. 

•  E/.ek.  xxvii.  7. 

'0  T  en  $'  ocrrij  \»rxo  Cayot  /usKmSar.  xxexov, 
Ovx  IT'  xfxy-j-n)**!  jraXif  «J<*.(f,  »jJl  vii«-^al. 

OdvBs.  i.-..  '-or.  °4.  !»5.  102. 

it  -T'gyrtns  frn<rum  quMcm  fertilisginia.  Red  m  propc 
sola  ii«  curere  possit.  taiitn  est  ciborum  ex  herbis  ahuii 
dnntia.  Plin.  I.  xxi.  c.  15. 

12  Num.  xi.  4,  5.  »  Exod.  xvi.  3. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


59 


have  taught  the?e  so  much-boasted  politicians,  to 
adopt  similar  precautions  against  the  changes  and 
inconstancy  ot  the  IN'ile.  Pliny,  in  his  panegyric 
upon  Trajan,  paints  with  wonderful  strength  the 
extremity  to  which  that  country  was  reduced  by  a 
famine  under  that  prince's  reign,  and  his  generous 
relief  of  it.  The  reader  will  not  be  displeased  to 
read  here  an  extract  of  it,  in  which  a  greater  regard 
w  ill  be  had  to  Pliny's  thoughts  than  to  hig  expressions. 

The  Egyptians,  says  Pliny,  who  gloried  that  they 
needed  neither  rain  nor  sun  to  produce  their  coin, 
and  who  believed  they  might  confidently  contest 
the  prize  of  plenty  with  the  most  fruitful  coun- 
tiies  of  the  world,  were  condemned  to  an  unexpec- 
ted drought,  and  a  fatal  sterility,  from  the  greatest 
part  of  their  territories  being  deserted  and  left  UM- 
watered  by  the  .Nile,  whose  inundation  is  the 
lource  and  sure  standard  of  their  abundance.  They 
then  implored  that  assistance  from  their  prince, 
which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  expect  only 
from  their  river.1  The  delay  of  their  relief  was 
no  longer  than  that  which  employed  a  courier  to 
bring  the  melancholy  news  to  Rome;  and  one 
would  have  imagined,  that  this  misfortune  had  be- 
fallen them  only  to  display,  with  greater  lustre, 
the  generosity  and  goodness  of  Cwsar.  It  was  an 
ancient  and  general  opinion,2  that  our  city  could 
not  subsi.-t  without  provisions  drawn  from  Egypt. 
This  vain  and  proud  nation  boasted,  that,  though 
conquered,  they  nevertheless  fed  their  conquerors: 
that  by  means  of  their  river,  either  abundance  or 
scarcity  were  entirely  in  their  own  disposal.  But 
we  now  have  returned  the  .Nile  his  own  harvests, 
and  given  him  back  the  provisions  he  sent  us.  Let 
the  Egyptians  be  then  convinced,  by  their  own  ex- 
perience, that  they  are  not  necessary  to  us,  and  are 
only  our  vassals.  Let  them  know  that  their  ships 
do  not  so  much  bring  us  tlic  provision  we  stand  in 
need  of,  as  the  tribute  which  they  owe  us.  And 
let  them  never  forget,  that  we  can  do  without 
them,  hut  that  they  can  never  do  without  us.  This 
;no>t  fruitful  province  had  been  ruined,  had  it  not 
Worn  the  Roman  chains.  The  Egyptians,  in  their 
sovereign,  found  a  deliverer,  and  a  father.  Aston- 
ished at  the  sight  of  their  granaries,  tilled  without 
any  labor  of  tlieir  own,  they  were  at  a  loss  to  know 
to  whom  they  owed  this  foreign  and  gratuitous 
plenty.  The  famine  of  a  people,  though  at  such 
a  distance  from  us,  yet  so  speedily  -.topped,  served 
only  to  let  them  teel  the  advantage  of  living  under 
our  empire.  The  Aile  may,  in  other  times,  have 
diffused  more  plenty  on  Egypt,  but  never  more  glory 
upon  u?.3  May  heaven.  Content  with  this  proof  of 
the  people's  patience  and  the  prince's  generosity, 
restore  forever  back  to  Egypt  its  ancient  fertility! 

Pliny's  reproach  to  the  Egyptians,  for  their  vain 
and  foolish  pride  with  regard  to  the  inundations 
of  the  Aile,  points  out  one  of  their  most  peculiar 
characteristics,  an  1  recalls  to  my  mind  a  tine  pas- 
sage of  Ezekitl,  where  God  thus  speaks  to  rha- 
raoh,  one  of  their  kings-  Behold,  I  am  against 
thte,  Pharaoh,  king-  of  Esryjit,  the  great  dragon 
that  lieth  in  the  midst  of  his  rivers,  ichich  hath 
taid.  Jfy  river  is  my  oicn,  and  I  have  made  it  far 
myself.*  GoJ  perceived  an  insupportable  pride 
in  the  heart  of  this  prince:  a  sense  of  security  and 
confidence  in  the  inundations  of  the  Nile,  inde- 
pendent entirely  on  the  influence  of  heaven;  as 
though  the  happy  effects  of  this  inundation  had 
een  owing  to  nothing  but  his  own  care  and  labor. 


i  Inundation?,  id  c*t,  ubertate  re?iu  fraudata,  sin  opera 
CafsarU  invix-avil,  ut  sole!  umnrin  suuin. 

•  IVrrrrliuerat  amiuuitua  urlirm  nostrum  nisi  opibua 
jEsypti  ali  sustvntari.|ue  non  |xi*se.  Su|>i/rlm-l«it  v»-iitn«a 
ll  insolt'MS  nutio.  cuixl  virlorem  <|ui<U/m  |x>pulum  |us<-eret 
.amen,  <jui>d<|ue  in  suo  flumine,  in  snis  maril.us,  Vi-l  aliun- 
JHitlia  nos'ra  vel  I'anirs  es*rt.  Rufudimus  Xilo  MMeopiu. 
ftecepit  frumentu  quae  miscrat,  ili|x>rta;as<;ue  messvn  re- 
r?iil. 

»  Nilus  jEjvpto  quidcm  szpe,  !wd  glorisp  nostne  nun- 
juani  lar«ior  Iluxit.  «  Ezek.  xxix.  3.  9. 


or  those  of  his  predecessors:  The  rivei  is  mine,  and 
I  have  made  it. 

Before  I  conclude  this  second  part,  which  treat* 
of  the  manners  of  the  Egyptians,  1  think  it  incum- 
bent on  me  to  bespeak  the  attention  of  my  readers 
to  different  passages  scattered  in  the  history  oi 
Abraham,  Jacob,  Joseph,  and  Moses,  which  confirm 
and  illustrate  part  of  what  we  meet  with  in  prolaiid 
authors  upon  this  subject.  They  will  there  oU.  r\* 
the  perfect  polity  which  reigned  in  Egypt,  both 
in  the  court  and  the  rest  of  the  kingdom  ;  the  vigi- 
lance of  this  prince,  who  was  informed  of  all  tran- 
sactions, had  a  regular  counsel,  a  chosen  number 
of  ministers,  armies  ever  well  maintained  and  dis- 
ciplined, both  of  horse,  foot,  and  armed  chariots; 
intendants  in  all  the  provinces  ;  overseers  or  eu;,r- 
dians  of  the  public  granaries  ;  wise  and  exact  dis- 
pensers of  the  corn  lodg  >d  in  them;  a  court  com- 
posed of  great  officers  of  the  crown,  a  captain  of 
his  guards,  n  chief  cup-bearer,  a  master  of  his  pan- 
try ;  in  a  word,  all  things  that  compose  a  prince's 
household,  and  constitute  a  magnificent  court.  But 
above  all  these,  the  readers  will  admire  the  fear  in 
which  the  threatening^  of  God  were  held.5  the  in- 
spector of  all  actions  and  the  judge  of  kings  them- 
selves; and  the  horror  the  Egyptians  had  for  adul- 
tery, which  was  acknowledged  to  be  a  crime  of  so 
heinous  a  nature,  that  it  alone  was  capable  of  bring- 
ing destruction  on  a  nation. 


PART  III. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  KI>GS  OF  EGYPT, 

No  part  of  ancient  history  is  more  obscure  or  un- 
certain, than  that  of  the  first  kings  of  Egypt.  This 
proud  nation,  fondly  conceited  of  its  antiquity  and 
nobility,  thought  it  glorious  to  lose  itself  in  an 
abyss  of  infinite  ages,  which  seemed  to  carry  it» 
pretensions  backward  to  eternity.  According  to 
its  own  historians,6  first  gods,  and  afterwards  demi- 
gods or  heroes,  governed  it  successively,  through 
a  series  of  more  than  twenty  thousand  years.  But 
the  absurdity  of  this  vain  and  fubulous  claim  is  easi- 
ly discovered. 

To  gods  and  demi-gods,  men  succeeded  as  rulers 
or  kings  in  Egypt,  of  whom  Manetho  has  left  us 
thirty  dynasties  or  principalities.  This  Manetho  was 
an  Egyptian  high  priest,  and  keeper  of  the  sacred 
archives  of  Egypt,  and  had  been  instructed  in  the 
Grecian  learning:  he  wrote  a  history  of  Egypt, 
which  he  pretended  to  have  extracted  fronT  the 
writings  of  Mercurius  and  other  ancient  memoirs, 
preserved  in  the  archives  of  the  Egyptian  temples. 
He  drew  up  this  history  under  the  reign,  and  at 
the  command,  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphia.  If  his 
thirty  dynasties  are  allowed  to  be  successive, 
they  make  up  a  series  of  time  of  more  than  five 
thousand  three  hundred  years,  to  the  reign  of 
Alexander  the  Great;  but  this  is  a  manifest  for- 
gery. Besides,  we  find  in  Eratosthenes,"  who  was 
invited  to  Alexandria  by  Ptolemy  Euergetes,  a 
catalogue  of  thirty  eight  kings  of  Thebes, all  differ- 
ent from  those  of  Manetho.  The  clearing  up  oi 
these  difficulties  has  put  the  learned  to  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  and  labor.  The  most  effectual  way  to 
reconcile  such  contradictions,  is  to  suppose,  with 
almost  all  the  modern  writers  upon  this  subject, 
that  the  kings  of  these  different  dynasties  did  not 
reign  successively  after  i  lie  another,  but  many  of 
them  at  the  same  time,  and  in  different  countries  of 
Egypt.  There  were  in  Egypt  four  principal  dynas- 
ties: that  ol  Thebes,  of  Thin,  of  Memphis,  and  of 
Taim.  I  shall  not  here  give  my  readers  a  list  of 
the  kings  who  have  reigned  in  Egypt,  of  most  ol 
whom  we  have  only  the  names  transmitted  to  u*. 
I  shall  only  t.iki  n  ,tice  of  what  seems  to  me  most 


•  Gen.  xii   10—20. 

1  An  historian  of  Cvrenc. 


•  Died.  I.  i.  o.  41. 


60 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


proper,  to  give  youth  the  necessary  light  into  this 
part  of  history,  for  whose  sake  principally  I  en- 
paged  in  the  undertaking;  and  I  shall  confine  my- 
telt  chiefly  to  the  memoirs  left  us  by  Herodotus 
and  Diodorus  Siculus,  concerning  the  Egyptian 
kings,  without  even  scrupulously  preserving  the 
exactness  of  succession,  at  least  in  the  early  part 
of  the  monarchy,  which  is  very  obscure;  and 
without  pretending  to  reconcile  these  two  histori- 
ans. Their  design,  especially  that  of  Herodotus, 
was  not  to  lay  before  us  an  exact  series  of  the 
kings  of  Egypt,  but  only  to  point  out  those  princes 
whose  hi.-tory  appeared  to  them  most  important 
and  instructive.  I  shall  follow  the  same  plan,  and 
hope  to  be  forgiven,  for  not  having  involved  either 
myself  or  my  readers  in  a  labyrinth  of  almost  in- 
ex'tricable  difficulties,  from  which  the  most  able 
can  scarce  disengage  themselves,  when  they  pre- 
tend to  follow  the  series  of  history,  and  reduce  it 
to  fixed  and  certain  dates.  The  curious  may  con- 
suit  the  learned  pieces,1  in  which  this  subject  if 
treated  in  all  its  extent. 

I  am  to  premise,  that  Herodotus,  upon  the  credit 
of  the  Egyptian  priests  whom  he  had  consulted, 
gives  us  a  great  number  of  oracles  and  singular 
incidents,  all  which,  though  he  relates  them  as  so 
many  facts,  the  judicious  reader  will  easily  discov- 
er to  be  what  they  realty  are:  I  mean,  fictions. 

The  ancient  history  of  Egypt  comprehends  2158 
years,  and  is  naturalfy  divided  into  three  periods. 

The  first  begins  with  the  establishment  of  the 
Egyptian  monarchy,  by  Menes  or  Misraim,  the  son 
of  Cham,2  in  the  year  of  the  world  1816;  and  ends 
with  the  destruction  of  that  monarchy  by  Cam- 
bvses,  king  of  Persia,  in  the  year  of  the  world 
3J79.  This  first  period  contains  1663  years. 

The  second  period  is  intermixed  with  the  Per- 
lian  and  Grecian  history,  and  extends  to  the  death 
of  Alexander  the  Great,  which  happened  in  the 
year  3681,  and  consequently  includes  202  years. 

The  third  period  is  that  in  which  a  new  monar- 
chy was  formed  in  Egypt  by  the  Lagidse,  or  Ptol- 
emies, descendants  from  Lagus;  to  the  death  of 
Cleopatra,  the  last  queen  of  Egypt,  in  3974;  and 
this  last  comprehends  293  years. 

I  shall  now  treat  only  of  the  first  period,  reserv- 
ing the  two  others  for  the  aeras  to  which  they  belong. 

The  Kings  of  Egypt. 

A  M.  1816.  ME.NES.  Historians  are  unani- 
Ant.  J.  C.2188.  niouslv  agreed,  that  Menes  was  the 
first  kmg  of  Egypt.  It  i*  pretend- 
ed, and  not  without  foundation,  that  he  is  the 
game  with  Misraim,  the  son  of  Cham. 

Cham  was  the  second  son  of  Noah.  When  the 
family  of  the  latter,  after  the  extravagant  attempt 
of  building  the  tower  of  Babel,  dispersed  them- 
selves into  different  countries,  Cham  retired  to 
Africa;  and  it  doubtless  was  he  who  afterwards 
was  worshipped  as  a  god,  under  the  name  of  Jupi- 
ter Aininon.  He  had  four  children,  Chu*.3  Mis- 
raim, Phut,  and  Canaan.  Chus  settled  in  Ethiopia; 
Misraim  in  Kgypt,  which  generally  is  called  in 
Scripture  after  his  name,  and  by  that  of  Cham*  his 
father;  Phut  took  possession  of  that  part  of  Africa, 
which  lies  westward  of  Egypt;  and  Canaan  of  the 
country  which  afterwards  bore  his  name.  The 
Canaanite*  are  certainly  the  same  people  who  are 
called  hlmost  always  I'luenicians  bv  the  Greeks,  of 
which  foreign  name  no  reason  can  be  given,  any 
more  than  of  the  oblivion  of  the  true  one. 

1  return  to  Misraim.  He  is  allowed5  to  be  the 
(ants  with  Menes,  whom  all  historians  declare  to 

i  Sir  John  Marsham's  Canon  Chronic.;  Father  I'ezron: 
the  Dissertation*  of  F.  Tournemine,  and  Ablx;  Sevm,  itc. 

«  Or  Mam.  »  Or  Cush.  <J'-n.  x.  0. 

«  Thr  footstep*  of  it«  old  name  f  Mi  sriiim  I  remain  to  this 
day  amim;  the  Arabian*,  who  .-all  it  MCTC  ;  by  the  testi- 
mony of  Pluturrh  it  was  railed  X-u.»,  Chr.-mia,  by  an  easy 
corruption  of  Chomia,  and  this  for  Cham,  or  Ham. 

>  Herod  '.  ii  p  JW     Diod  I.  i  p.  4i 


be  the  first  king  of  Egypt,  the  institutor  of  (ha 
worship  of  the  gods,  and  of  the  ceremonies  of  the 
sacrifices. 

Bt'SIRIS,  some  ages  after  him,  built  the  fanioul 
city  of  Thebes,  and  made  it  the  seat  of  his  r-mpiie. 
We  have  elsewhere  taken  notice  of  the  wealth  and 
magnificence  of  thisrity.  Thisprinceis  not  tobecon- 
founded  with  Busiri*,  so  infamous  for  his  cruelties. 

OSYMA.NUYAS.  Diodorus"  gives  a  very  particu- 
lar description  of  many  magnificent  edifices,  ia,«ed 
by  this  king;  one  of  which  was  adorned  WIM 
sculptures  and  paintings  of  exquisite  beauty,  repre- 
senting his  expedition  against  the  Hadrians,  a  peo- 
ple of  Asia,  whom  he  had  invaded  with  four  hun- 
dred thousand  foot  and  twenty  thousand  horse.  la 
another  part  of  the  edifice  was  exhibited  an  assem- 
bly of  the  judges,  whose  president  wore,  on  his  breast, 
a  picture  of  Truth,  with  her  eyes  shut,  and  himself 
was  surrounded  with  books;  an  emphatic  emblem, 
denoting  that  judges  ought  to  be  perfectly  versed  in 
the  laws, and  impartial  in  the  administration  of  them. 

The  king  likewise  was  painted  here,  offering  to 
the  gods  gold  and  silver,  which  he  drew  every 
year  from  the  mines  of  Egypt,  amounting  to  the 
sum  of  sixteen  millions.7 

Not  far  from  hence  was  seen  a  magnificent  libra- 
ry, the  oldest  mentioned  in  history.  Its  title  or  in- 
scription ou  the  front  was,  The  office,  or  tremsary, 
of  remedies  for  the  diseases  of  the  soul.  Near  it 
were  placed  statues,  representing  all  the  Egyptian 
gods,  to  each  of  whom  the  king  made  suitable  of- 
ferings: by  which  he  seemed  to  be  desirous  of  in- 
forming posterity  that  his  life  and  reign  had  been 
crowned  with  piety  to  the  gods,  and  justice  to  men. 

His  mausoleum  displayed  uncommon  magnifi- 
cence: it  was  encompassed  with  a  circle  of  gold, 
a  cubit  in  breadth,  and  365  cubits  in  circumfer- 
ence: each  of  which  showed  the  rising  and  setting 
of  the  sun,  moon,  and  the  rest  of  the  planets.  For, 
so  early  as  this  king's  reign,  the  Egyptians  divided 
the  year  into  twelve  months,  each  consisting  of 
thirty  days:8  to  which  they  added  every  year  five 
day*  and  six  hours.  The  spectator  did  not  know 
which  to  admire  most  in  this  stately  monument, 
wm?ther  the  richness  of  its  materials,  or  the  genius 
and  industry  of  the  artists. 

UcHOREUS.oiK  of  the  successors  of  Osymamlyas, 
built  the  city  of  Memphis.9  This  city  was  150  fur- 
longs, or  more  than  seven  leagues  in  circumfer- 
ence, and  stood  at  the  point  ol  the  Delta,  in  that 
part  where  the  Nile  divides  itself  into  several 
branches,  or  streams.  Southward  from  the  city, 
he  raised  a  lofty  mole.  On  the  right  and  left  he 
dug  very  deep  moats  to  receive  the  river.  These 
were  faced  with  stone,  and  raised,  near  the  city, 
by  strong  causeys;  the  whole  designed  to  secure 
the  city  from  the  inundations  of  the  Nile,  and  the 
incursions  of  the  enemy.  A  city  so  advantageous- 
ly situated,  and  so  strongly  fortified,  that  It  wai 
almost  the  key  of  the  Nile,  and,  by  this  means, 
commanded  the  whole  country,  became  soon  the 
usual  residence  of  the  Egyptian  kings.  It  kept 

Cosse»sion  of  this  honor,  till   Alexandria  was  built 
v  Alexander  the  Great. 

'MaiRis.  This  king  made  the  famous  lake  which 
went  by  his  name,  and  whereof  mention  has  been 
already  made. 

Egypt  had  long  been  govern* 
ed  by    its  native  princes,    when       A.  M.  1920. 
st  rangers,  called  Shepherd-kings     Ant.  J  C.  2084. 
(Hvcsos    in   the    Egyptian     lan- 
guage,)   from    Arabia  or    Phoenicia,  invaded  and 
seized  a  great  part  of  Lower  Egypt,  and  Memphii 
itself;    but  Upper  Egypt  remained    unconquered, 
and  the  kingdom   of  Thebes  existed  till  the  reign 
of  Sesostris.  These  foreign  priuces  governed  about 
260  years. 


«  Diod.  I.  i.  p.  44,  45. 

'  Three  thousand  two  hundred  myriad*  of  minm. 

•  See  Sir  Isaac  Ne wtou'«  Chronology,  p.  30.     •  L):od.  p.  48 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


61 


.    »••  nng/i  Under  one   of  these   prince?, 

A.  M. -WJ84.         ca,,ed   pharaoh  jn  scripturei  (a 

name  common  to  all  the  kings  of 
Egypt,)  Abraham  arrived  there  with  hi=  wife  Sarah, 
who  wa*  exposed  to  great  hazard,  on  account  ot  her 
exquisite  beauty,  which  reaching  the  prince's  ear, 
»he  was  taken  by  him  from  Abraham,  upon  the  suppo- 
sition that  she  was  not  his  wife,  but  only  his  sister. 
THETHMOSIS,  or  Amosis,  hav- 
A.  M.  2170.        ing  expelled  the  Shepherd-kings, 
Ant.  J.  C.  1325.     reigned  in  Lower  Egypt. 

Long  after  his  reign,  Joseph 
A.M.  2276.  was  broughv  a  slave  into  Egypt, 
Ant.  J.  C  1728.  by  some  I-hniHelitish  merchants; 
sold  to  Potiphar;  and  by  a  series 
ot  wonderful  events,  enjoyed  the  supreme  author- 
ty,  by  his  being  raised  to  the  chief  employment  of 
the  kingdom.  I  shall  pass  over  his  history,  as 
it  is  so  universally  known.  But  I  must  take  no- 
tice of  a  remark  ot  Justin  (the  epitomizer  of  Tro- 
gus  Pompeius,2  an  excellent  historian  of  the  Au- 
gustan age,)  viz.  that  Joseph,  the  youngest  of  Ja- 
cob's children,  whom  his  brethren,  through  envy, 
had  sold  to  foreign  merchants,  being  endowed 
from  heaven  with  the  interpretation  of  dreams,3 
and  a  knowledge  of  futurity,  preserved,  by  his  un- 
common prudence,  Egypt  from  the  famine  with 
which  it  was  menaced,  and  was  extremely  caress- 
ed by  the  king. 

Jacob   also    went   into    Egypt 

A.M.  2298.         with  his  whole  family,  which  met 

Ant.  J.  C.  1706.     with  the  kindest  treatment  from 

the    Egyptians,    whilst    Joseph's 

important  services   were   tresh  in    their  memories. 

But  after  his  death,  say  the  Scriptures,  there  arose 

up  a  new  king,  which  knew  not  Joseph.* 

RA.MESKS-MIA.MU.M,  according 
A.M.  2427.  to  arch-bishop  Usher,  was  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  1577.  name  of  this  king,  who  is  called 
Pharaoh  in  Scripture.  He  reigned 
sixty-six  years,  and  oppressed  the  Israelites  in  a  most 
grievous  manner.  He  set  over  them  task-masters 
to  afflict  them  with  their  burdens,  and  they  built 
for  Pharaoh  treasure-cities.  Pilhomand  Raamses;* 
and  the  Egyptians  made  the  children  of  Israel  to  :t 
serve  with  rigor;  and  they  made  their  lives  bitter 
icilh  hard  bondage,  in  mortar  and  in  brick,  and 
in  all  manner  of  service  in  thejitld;  all  their  ser- 
vice wherein  they  made  them  serve,  was  with  rig- 
or.6 This  king  had  two  sons,  Amenophis  and  Bu 
siris. 

AMENOPHIS,  the  eldest,    suc- 

A.M.  2494.         ceededhjm.  He  was  the  Pharaoh, 

Ant.  J.  C.  1510.     under  whose  reign    the    Israelites 

departed  out  of  Egypt,  and   was 

drowned  in  passing  the  Red  Sea. 

Father  Tournemine  makes  Se- 
A.M.2513.         sostris,  of  whom  we  shall  speak 
Ant.  J.  C.  1491.     immediately,    the   Pharaoh    who 
raised  the  persecution  against  the 
Israelites,  and  oppressed  them  with  the  most  pain- 
ful toils.     This  is  exactly  agreeable  to  the  account 
given,  by  Diodorus,  of  this  prince,  who  employed  in 
his  Egyptian  works  only  foreigners;  so  that  we  may 
place  the  memorable  event  of  the  passage  of  the  Red 
Sea,  under  his  son  Pheron;7  and  the  characteristic 
of  impiety  ascribed  tD  him  bv    Herodotus,  greatly 
strengthens  the  probability  ot  this  COO  lecture.  The 
plan  I  have  proposed  to  follow  in  thisniatory  excu- 
teg  me  from  entering  into  chronological  discussions. 
Diodorus.9  speaking  of  the  Red  Sea,    has  made 


I  Gen.  xii.  10—20  *  Lib.  xxxvi.  c.  2. 

*  Justin  ascribes  this  gift  of  heaven  to  Joseph's  skill  in 
magical  arts:    Cum  magicaj  ibi  artes  (E^ypii  sc.)  solerti 
ingrnio  pererpisisft,  Jfe.  «  Exod.  i.  8. 

•  He!>.  urbcs  tlicjaurorum.  LXX.  urbti  munitas.  These 
cities  were  appointed  to  preserve,  aa  in  a  storehouse,  the 
corn,  oil.  and  other  products  of  Egypt      V'aiab. 

•  Eiod.  i.  ii.  1:1.  14. 

*  Tins  name  bears  a  great  resemblance  to  Pharaoh,  which 
was  common  to  the  Egyptian  kings.          •  Lib  iii.  p.  7-1. 


one  remark  very  worthy  our  observation;  A  tra 
dition  (says  that  historian)  has  been  transmitted 
through  the  whole  nation,  from  father  to  son,  for 
many  ages,  that  once  an  extraordinary  ebb  dried 
up  the  sea,  so  that  its  bottom  was  seen;  and  that  a 
violent  tlow  immediately  after  brought  back  th« 
waters  to  their  former  channel. —  It  is  evidenf 
that  the  miraculous  passage  of  Moses  over  the  Re  i 
Sea  is  here  hinted  at;  and  I  make  this  lemart, 
purposely  to  admonish  young  students,  not  to  sip 
over,  in  their  perusal  of  authors,  these  precious  re- 
mains of  antiquity  ;  especialiy  when  they  bear,  .ike 
this  passage,  anv  relation  to  religion. 

Archbishop  Lfsher  says,  that  Amenophis  left  two 
sons,  one  called  Sesothis,  or  Sesostris,  and  the 
other  Armais.  The  Greeks  call  him  Belus,  and  hit 
two  sons  Egypt  us  and  Danaus. 

SESOSTRis9  was  not  only  one  of  the  most  power- 
ful kings  of  Egypt,  but  one  of  the  greatest  con- 
querors that  antiquity  boasts  of. 

His  father,  whether  by  inspiration,  caprice,  or, 
as  the  Egyptians  say,  by  the  authority  of  an  ora- 
cle, formed  a  design  of  making  his  son  a  conquer- 
or. This  he  set  about  after  the  Egyptian  manner, 
that  is,  in  a  great  and  noble  way.  All  the  male 
children,  born  the  same  day  with  Sesostris,  were, 
by  the  king's  order,  brought  to  court.  Here  they 
were  educated  as  if  they  had  been  his  own  chil- 
dren, with  the  same  care  bestowed  on  Sesostri.% 
with  whom  they  were  brought  up.  He  could  not 
possibly  have  given  him  more  faithful  ministers, 
nor  olHcers  who  more  zealously  desired  the  suc- 
cess of  his  arms.  The  chief  part  of  their  educa- 
tion was,  the  inuring  them,  from  their  infancy,  to 
a  hard  and  laborious  life,  in  order  that  they  mi^ht 
one  day  be  capable  of  sustaining  with  ease  the  toi'l 
of  war.  They  were  never  sullered  to  eat,  til!  thejr 
had  run,  on  foot  or  horseback,  a  considerable  race. 
Hunting  was  their  most  comnnn  exercise. 

jElian  remarks,10  that  Sesostris  was  taught  by 
Mercury,  who  instructed  him  in  politics,  and  the 
art  of  government.  This  Mercury  is  he  whom  the 
Greeks  called  Trismegistus,  ».  e.  thrice  great. 
Egypt,  his  native  country,  owes  to  him  the  inven- 
tion of  almost  every  art.  The  two  books,  which 
go  under  his  name,  bear  such  evident  characters  of 
novelty  that  the  forgery  is  no  longer  doubted. 
There  was  another  Mercurv,  who  was  also  very  fa- 
mous among  the  Egyptians  for  his  rare  knowledge, 
and  of  much  greater  antiquity  than  he  of  whonc 
we  have  been  speaking.  Jamblicus,  a  priest  of 
Egypt,  affirms,  that  it  was  customary  with  the 
Egyptians  to  fix  the  name  of  Hermes,  or  Mercury, 
to  all  the  new  books  or  inventions  that  were  olier- 
ed  to  the  public. 

When  Sesostris  was  more  advanced  in  years  his 
father  sent  him  against  the  Arabians,  in  order  to 
acquire  military  knowledge.  Here  the  young 
prince  learned  to  bear  hunger  and  thirst;  and  sub- 
dued a  nation  which  till  then  had  never  been  con- 
quered. The  youths  educated  with  him  attended 
him  in  all  his  campaigns. 

Accustomed  by  this  conquest  to  martial  toils,  he 
was  next  sent  by  his  father  to  try  his  fortune  west- 
ward. He  invaded  Libya,  and  subdued  the  great- 
est part  of  that  vast  country. 

SESOSTRIS.     During  this  expe- 
dition  his   father   died,  and   left       A.  M.  2513. 
him    capable  of    attempting  the     Ant.  J.  C.  1491. 
greatest  enterprises.     He  formed 
no  less  a  design  than   that  of  the  conquest  of  th« 
world.     But  before  he  left  his  kingdom,  he  provi- 
ded   for    his    domestic    security,    in    winning    the 
hearts  of  his  subjects  by   his  generosity,  justice, 
and  a  popular  anil  obliging  behavior.     He  was  no 
less  studious  to  gain  the  affection  ot"  his  officers  and 
soldiers,  whom  ne  wished  to  be  ever  ready  to  sh».rt 
the  last  drop  of  their  blood  in  hi*  service;  prrsua 

•  Herod.  I.  ii.  cap.  102.  110.     Diod.  I.  i.  p.  4S.  .>4. 

1»  T.C  Ytr,itxix  ix.u:tir*cri>vxi,  lib.  xii.  I.  4 

F 


62 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


ded  (hat  his  enterprises  would  all  be  unsuccessful, 
unless  his  army  should  be  attached  to  his  person 
by  all  the  ties  of  esteem,  affection,  and  interest. 
tie  divided  the  country  into  thirty  six  governments 
(called  A'onii,)  and  bestowed  them  oil  persons  of 
merit,  and  the  must  approved  fidelity. 

In  the  mean  time  he  made  the  requisite  prepa- 
rations, levied  forces,  and  headed  them  with  offi- 
cers of  the  greatest  bravery  and  reputation,  and 
these  were  taken  chierty  from  among  the  youths 
who  had  been  educated  with  him.  He  had  seven- 
teen hundred  of  these  officers,  who  were  all  capa- 
ble of  inspiring  his  troops  with  resolution,  a  love 
of  discipline,  and  a  zeal  for  the  service  of  their 
prince.  His  army  consisted  of  six  hundred  thou- 
sand foot,  and  twenty -four  thousand  horse,  besides 
twenty-seven  thousand  armed  chariots. 

He  began  his  expedition  by  invading  Ethiopia, 
situated  on  the  south  of  Egypt.  He  made  it  trib- 
utary; and  obliged  the  nations  of  it  to  furnish  him 
annually  with  a  certain  quantity  of  ebony,  ivory 
and  gold. 

He  had  fitted  out  a  fleet  of  four  hundred  sail, 
Mid  ordering  it  to  advance  to  the  Red  Sea,  made 
himself  master  of  the  isles  and  cities  lying  on  the 
coasts  of  that  sea.  He  himself  heading  his  land 
army,  overran  and  subdued  Asia  with  amazing  ra- 
pidity, and  advanced  farther  into  India  than  Her- 
culis,  Bacchus,  and  in  aftertimes  Alexander  him- 
self had  ever  done;  for  he  subdued  the  countries 
beyond  the  Ganges,  and  advanced  as  far  as  the 
ocean.  One  may  judge  from  hence  how  unable  the 
more  neighboring  countries  were  to  resist  him.  The 
Scythians,  as  far  as  the  river  Tanais,  as  well  as  Ar- 
menia and  Cappadocia,  were  conquered.  He  left 
a  colony  in  the  ancient  kingdom  of  Colchos,  situ- 
ated to  the  east  of  the  Black  Sea,  where  the  Egyp- 
tian customs  and  manners  have  been  ever  since 
retained.  Herodotus  saw  in  Asia  Minor,  from  one 
sea  to  the  other,  monuments  of  his  victories.  In 
several  countries  was  read  the  followinginscription 
engraven  on  pillars:  Sesostria,  king  of  kings,  and 
lord  of  lords,  subdued  this  country  by  the  power  (if 
fris  arms.  Such  pillars  were  found  even  in  Thrace, 
and  his  empire  extended  from  the  Ganges  to  the 
Danube.  In  his  expeditions,  some  nations  bravely 
defended  their  liberties,  and  others  yielded  them 
up  without  making  the  least  resistance.  This  dis- 
parity was  denoted  by  him  in  hieroglyphical  fig- 
ures, on  the  monuments  erected  to  perpetuate  the 
remembrance  of  his  victories,  agreeably  to  the 
Egyptian  practice. 

Tne  scarcity  of  provisions  in  Thrace  stopped 
the  progress  of  his  conquests  and  prevented  his 
advancing  farther  in  Europe.  One  remarkable 
circumstance  is  observed  in  this  conqueror,  who 
never  pr.ce  thought,  as  others  had  done,  of  preser- 
ving his  acquisitions;  but  contenting  himself  with 
the  glory  of  having  subdued  and  despoiled  so  ma- 
ny nations;  after  having  made  wild  havoc,  up  and 
down  the  world  for  nine  years,  he  confined  himself 
almost  within  the  ancient  limits  of  Egypt,  a  few 
neighboring  provinces  excepted;  for  we  do  not 
nnd  any  traces  or  footsteps  of  this  new  empire, 
either  under  himself  or  his  successors. 

He  returned  therefore  laden  with  the  spoils  of 
the  vanquished  nations,  dragging  after  him  a  num- 
berless multitude  of  captives,  and  covered  with 
greater  glory  than  any  of  his  predecessors;  that 
glory  I  mean  which  employs  so  many  tongues  and 
pens  in  its  praise;  which  consists  in  invading  a 
great  number  of  provinces  in  a  hostile  way,  and  is 
often  productive  of  numberless  calamities.  He  re- 
warded his  officers  and  soldiers  with  a  truly  royal 
magnificence,  in  proportion  to  their  rank  and  mer- 
it. He  made  it  both  his  pleasure  and  duty,  to  put 
the  companions  of  his  victory  in  such  a  condition 
as  might  enable  them  to  enjoy,  during  the  remain- 
der of  their  days,  a  calm  and  easy  repose,  the  just 
rewarJ  of  their  past  toili 


With  regard  to  himself,  for  ever  careful  of  hif 
own  reputation,  and  still  more  of  making  his  pow- 
er advaiitugi-ous  to  his  subjects,  he  employed  tha 
repose  which  peace  allowed  him,  in  raising  works 
that  might  contribute  more  to  the  enriching  of 
Egypt,  than  the  immortalizing  hi*  name;  work*, 
in  which  the  art  and  industry  ol  the  workmen  were 
more  sdinirpd,  than  the  immense  sums  which  had 
been  expended  on  them. 

A  hundred  famous  temples,  raised  as  so  many 
monuments  of  gratitude  to  the  tutelar  gods  of  all 
the  cities,  were  the  first,  as  well  as  the  most  illus- 
trious, testimonies  of  his  victories;  and  he  took 
care  to  publish  in  the  inscriptions  on  them,  that 
these  mighty  works  had  been  completed  without 
burdening  any  of  his  subjects.  He  made  it  hi* 
glory  to  be  tender  of  them,  and  to  employ  only 
captives  in  these  monuments  of  his  conquests. 
The  scriptures  take  notice  of  something  like  this, 
where  they  speak  of  the  buildings  of  Solomon.' 
But  he  pri  ied  himself  particular!)  in  adorning  and 
enriching  the  temple  ol  Vulcan  at  Pelu»ium,  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  protection  which  he  fancied 
that  god  had  bestowed  on  him,  when,  on  hit-  return 
from  his  expeditions,  his  brother  had  a  desigu  of  de- 
1  stroying  him  in  that  city,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
by  setting  fire  to  the  apartment  where  he  then  lay. 

His  great  work  was,  the  raising,  in  every  part  of 
Egypt,  a  considerable  number  of  high  banks,  or 
moles,  on  which  new  cities  were  built,  in  order 
that  these  might  be  a  security  for  men  aud  beasts 
during  the  inundations  of  the  Nile. 

From  Memphis,  as  far  as  the  sea,  he  cut,  on  both 
sides  of  the  river,  a  great  number  of  canals,  for 
the  conveniency  of  trade,  and  the  conveying  of 
provisions,  and  for  the  settling  an  easy  correspon- 
dence between  such  cities  as  were  most  distant 
from  one  another.  Besides  the  advantages  of 
traffic,  Egypt  was,  by  these  canals,  made  inaccessi  • 
,  ble  to  the  cavalry  of  its  enemies,  which  before  hid 
10  often  harassed  it  by  repeated  incursions. 

He  did  still  more.  To  secure  Egypt  from  the 
inroads  of  its  nearer  neighbors,  the  Syrians  and 
Arabians,  he  fortified  all  the  eastern  coast  from 
Pelusium  to  Heliopolis,  that  is,  for  upwards  of  sev- 
en leagues.2 

Sesostris  might  have  been  considered  as  one  of 
the  most  illustrious  and  most  boasted  heroes  of  an- 
tiquity, had  not  the  lustre  of  his  warlike  actions 
as  well  as  his  pacific  virtues,  been  tarnished  by  a 
thirst  of  glory,  and  a  blind  fondness  for  his  own 
grandeur,  which  made  him  forget  that  he  was  a 
man.  The  kings  and  ehiefs  of  the  conquered  na- 
tions came,  at  stated  times,  to  do  homage  to  their 
victor,  and  pay  him  the  appointed  tribute.  On  ev- 
ery other  occasion,  he  treated  them  with  sufficient 
humanity  and  generosity.  But  when  he  went  to 
the  temple,  or  entered  his  capital,  he  caused  these 
princes  to  be  harnessed  to  his  car,  four  abreast,  in- 
stead of  horses;  and  valued  himself  upon  his  being 
thus  drawn  by  the  lords  and  sovereigns  of  other  na- 
tions. What  I  am  most  surprised  at,  is,  that  Dio- 
dorus  should  rank  this  foolish  and  inhuman  vanity 
among  the  most  shining  actions  of  this  prince. 

Being  grown  blind  in  his  old  age,  he  died  by  hit 
own  hands,  after  having  reigned  thirty-three  year* 
and  left  his  kingdom  infinitely  rich.  His  empire, 
nevertheless,  did  not  reach  beyond  the  fourth  gen- 
eration. But  there  still  remained,  so  low  as  the 
reign  of  Tiberius,  magnificent  monuments,  which 
showed  the  extent  of  Egypt  under  Sesostris,3  and 
the  immense  tributes  wlucii  were  paid  to  it.* 


*  2  CAron.  viii.  9  :  But  of  the  children  of  Israel  did  Solo 
mon  make  no  servants  for  his  work. 

•  150  stadia,  about  18  miles  English. 
»  Tacit.  Ann.  1.  ii.  c.  60. 

4  Legebantur  indicia  g-entibiu  tributa — haud  minus  ma f 
nifica  quam  nunc  r«  Part/torum  out  polentia  Romano  juke* 
tur — Inscribed  on  pillars,  were  read  the  tributes  iiurxwe* 
on  vanquished  nations,  which  were  not  inferior  to  tlioM 
now  paid  to  the  Parthian  and  Roman  powers 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


63 


1  now  go  back  to  some  facts  which  took  place  in 
this  period,  but  which  were  omitted,  in  order  that 
I  might  not  break  the  thread  of  the  history,  and 
now  I  shall  but  barely  mention  them. 

About  the  era  in  question,  the  Egyp- 
A.M.2448.  tians  settled  themselves  in  divert*  parts 
of  the  earth.  The  colony,  which 
Oerrops  led  out  of  Egypt,  built  twelve  cities,  or 
rather  as  many  towns  of  which  he  composed  the 
kingdom  of  Athens. 

We  observed  that  the  brother  of  Sesostris.  called 
DJ  the  Greeks  Danaus,  had  formed  a  design  to  mur- 
der him,  on  his  return  to  Egypt,  after  his  conquest. 
But  being  defeated  in  his  horrid  pro- 
A.M.2530.    ject,  he  was  obliged  to  fly.    He  there- 
upon retired  to  ljeloponnesus, where  he 
ieized  upon  the  kingdom  of  Argos,  which  had  been 
'bunded  about  four  hundred  yeais  before  by  Inachus. 
BusiRlS,  brother  of  Amenophis,  so 
A.M. 2533.     infamous  among  the  ancients  for  his 
cruelties,  exercised  his  tyranny  at  that 
time  on   the  banks   of  the   Nile;    and  barbarously 
murdered  all  foreigners  who  landed  in  this  country  : 
this  was  probably  during  the  absence  of  Sesostris. 

About  the  same  time  Cadmus 
A.M. 2549.  brought  from  Syria  into  Greece  the 
invention  of  letters.  Some  pretend 
that  these  characters  or  letters  were  Egyptian,  and 
that  Cadmus  himself  was  a  native  of  Egypt,  and 
not  of  Phoenicia;  and  the  Egyptians,  who  ascribe 
to  themselves  the  invention  of  every  art,  and  boast 
a  greater  antiquity  than  any  other  nation,  give  to 
their  Mercury  the  honor  of  inventing  Utters. 
Most  of  the  learned  agree,1  that  Cadmus  carried 
the  Phoenician  or  Syrian  letters  into  Greece,  and 
those  letters  were  the  same  as  the  Hebraic;  the 
Hebrews  who  formed  but  a  small  nation,  being 
comprehended  under  the  general  name  of  Syrians. 
Joseph  Scaliger,  in  his  notes  on  the  Chronicon  of 
Eusebius,  proves  that  the  Greek  letters,  and  those 
of  the  Latin  alphabet  formed  from  them,  derive 
their  original  from  the  ancient  Phoenician  letters, 
which  are  the  same  with  the  Samaritan,  and  were 
used  by  the  Jews  before  the  Babylonish  captivity. 
Cadmus  carried  only  sixteen  letters  into  Greece,2 
eight  others  being  added  afterwards. 

1  return  to  the  history  of  the  Egyptian  kings, 
whom  I  shall  hereafter  rank  in  the  game  order  as 
Herodotus  has  assigned  to  them. 

PHERON  succeeded  Sesostris  in 

A.  M.  2547.  his  kingdom,  but  not  in  his  glory. 
Ant.  J.  C.  1457.  Herodotus*  relates  but  one  ac- 
tion of  his,  which  shows  how 
greatly  he  had  degenerated  from  the  religious  sen- 
timents of  his  father.  In  an  extraordinary  inun- 
dation of  the  Nile,  which  exceeded  eighteen  cu- 
bits, this  prince,  enraged  at  the  wild  havoc  which 
was  made  by  it,  threw  a  javelin  at  the  river,  as  if 
he  intended  thereby  to  chastise  its  insolence;  but 
was  himself  immediately  punished  for  his  impiety,)! 
the  historian  may  be  credited,  with  the  loss  of  sight. 
*PROTEUS.  5He  was  of  Mem- 

A.  M.  2800.       phis,  where,  in  Herodotus's  time, 

Ant.  J.  C.  1204.     his  temple  was  still   standing,  in 

which  was  a  chapel  dedicated  to 


j  Venus  the  stranger.  It  is  conjectured  th.\t  thit 
\  niu«  was  Helen.  For  in  the  reign  of  this  nion 
»rch,  Paris  the  Trojan,  returning  home  with  Hel- 
en, whom  he  had  s'olen,  was  driven  by  a  storm 
into  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Nile,  called  Cano- 
nic; and  from  thence  was  conducted  to  Proteus  at 
Memphis,  who  reproached  him  in  the  strongest 
terms  for  his  base  perfidy  and  guilt,  in  stealing  the 
wife  of  his  host,  and  with  her  all  the  effects  in  his 
house.  He  added,  that  the  onlv  reason  why  he 
did  not  punish  him  with  death  (as  his  crime  de- 
served) was,  because  the  Egyptians  were  careful 
not  to  imbrue  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  strangers: 
that  he  would  keep  Helen,  with  all  the  riches  that 
were  brought  with  her,  in  onier  to  restore  them  to 
their  lawful  owner:  that  as  for  himself  (Paris,)  he 
must  either  quit  his  dominions  in  three  days  or  ex- 
pect to  be  treated  as  an  enemy.  The  king's  order 
was  obeyed.  Paris  continued  his  voyage,  and  ar- 
rived at  Troy,  whither  he  was  closely  pursued  bj 
the  Grecian  army.  The  Greeks  summoned  the 
Trojans  to  surrender  Helen,  and  with  her  all  the 
treasures  of  which  her  husband  had  been  plunder- 
ed. The  Trojans  answered,  that  neither  Helen 
nor  her  treasures,  were  in  the  city.  And  indeed, 
was  it  at  all  likely,  says  Herodotus",  that  Priam,  who 
was  so  wise  an  old  prince,  should  choose  to  see  his 
children  and  country  destroyed  before  bis  eyes, 
rather  than  give  the  Greeks  the  just  and  reasona- 
ble satisfaction  they  desired?  But  it  was  to  no  pur- 
pose for  them  to  affirm  with  an  oath  that  Helen  was 
not  in  their  city;  the  Greeks  being  firmly  persua- 
ded that  they  "were  trifled  with,  persisted  obsti- 
nately in  their  unbelief:  the  deity,  continues  the 
same  historian,  being  resolved  that  the  Trojans,  by 
the  total  destruction  of  their  city  and  empire 
should  teach  the  affrighted  world"  this  lesson:* 
THAT  GREAT  CRIMES  ARE  ATTENDED  WITH  AS 
GREAT  AINU  SIGNAL  PUNISHMENTS  FROM  THE  OF- 
FENDED GODS.  Menelaus,  on  his  return  from 
Troy,  called  at  the  court  of  king  Proteus,  who  re- 
stored him  Helen,  with  all  her  treasure.  Herodotus 
proves,  from  some  passages  in  Homer,  that  the  voy- 
age of  Paris  to  Egvpt  was  not  unknown  to  this  poet. 

RHAMPSINITUS".  What  is  related  by  Herodotus' 
concerning  the  treasury  built  by  this  king,  who 
was  the  richest  of  all  his  predecessors,  and  his  de- 
scent into  hell,  has  so  much  the  air  of  romance  and 
fiction,  as  to  deserve  no  mention  here. 

Till  the  reign  of  this  king,  there  had  been  some 
shadow,  at  least,  of  justice  and  moderation  in 
Egypt;  but  in  the  two  following  reigns,  violence 
and  cruelty  usurped  their  place. 

CHEOPS  and  CEPHREJ*.  These  two  princes,' 
who  were  truly  brothers  by  the  similitude  of  their 
manners,  seemed  to  have  vied  with  each  other 
which  of  them  should  distinguish  himself  most,  by 
a  barefaced  impietv  towards  the  gods,  and  a  bar- 
barous inhumanity  to  men.  Cheops  reigned  fiftj 
years,  and  his  bro'ther  Cephren  fifty -six  years  after 
him.  They  kept  the  temples  shut  during  the 
whole  time  of  their  long  reigns;  and  forbid  the  of- 
fering of  sacrifices  under  the  severest  penalties. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  oppressed  their  subjects) 
by  employing  them  in  the  most  grievous  and  u***- 


«  The  reader  may  consult,  on  this  §ubjcct,  two  learned 
dissertation*  of  Alibe  Renaudot,  inserted  in  the  second 
Yolume  of  the  History  of  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions. 

•  The  sixteen  letters  brought  by  Cadmus  into  Greece, 
re  *,  o,  >,  *,  i,  «,  x.  x.,  /*,  »,  o,  JT,  f,  <r,  T,  u.  Falnmedee,  at 
the  siege  of  Troy.  t.  e.  upwards  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  lower  than  Cadmus,  added  the  four  followin?.  ~,t ,:,-/_, 
ind  Simonides,  a  long  lime  after,  invented  the  four  others, 
namely,  ',  *,.',  y.  *  Herod,  l.ii.  c.  111.  Diod.  1.  i.  p.  54. 

«  Herod.  I.  ii.  c.  112.  120. 

1  1  it.  not  t!iink  myself  obliged  to  enter  here  into  a  dis- 
rncsj  ,n.  which  would  be  attended  with  very  perplexing 
difficulties,  should  I  pretend  to  reconcile  the  series,  or  suc- 
cession of  the  kinss,  as  given  by  Herodotus,  with  the  opinion 
•f  archbishop  Usher.  This  last  supposes,  with  many  other 
•earned  men,  that  Senostris  is  the  son  of  that  Egyptian 
king  who  va*  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea,  whose  reign  must 


consequently  have  begun  in  the  year  of  the  world  2513,  tna 
continued  till  the  year  2547,  since  it  lasted  lhirty-thre« 
years.  Should  we  allow  fifty  years  to  the  reign  of  Pheroi 
his  son,  then1  would  si  ill  be  an  interval  of  above  two  hun- 
dred years  between  Pherou  and  Proteus,  who,  according  to 
Herodotus,  was  the  immediate  successor  of  the  former; 
since  Proteus  lived  at  the  time  of  the  siege  of  Troy,  which, 
according  to  I'uher,  was  taken  An.  Mun.  2F20.  I  know  not 
whether  his  almost  total  silence  on  the  Egyptian  kin»j  af- 
ter Sosos.ris,  was  owing  to  his  sense  of  this  difficulty.  I 
suppose  a  long  interval  to  have  occurred  betwee-n  Pheron 
and  Proteus;  accordingly  Diodorns  (lib  i.  p.  54.)  (ills  it  op 
with  a  great  many  kings":  an-1  the  same  must  be  said  of 
some  of  the  following  kings. 

•  'IJf   T«»   fity*\*v    «Jixr/"«T<*»    fttyx\xi    n<ri    «•<    mi 
TIU . < 1*1  -rips  T»>  ei»*.  *  Lib.  ii.  c.  121.  123. 

•  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  124.  12a     Diod.  1.  i.  p.  57. 


64 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


less  wor*s;  ana  sacrificed  the  lives  of  numberless 
multitudes  of  men,  merely  to  gratify  a  senseless 
ambition  of  immortalizing  their  names  by  edifices 
of  an  enormous  magnitude  and  a  boundless  expense. 
It  is  remarkable,  that  those  stately  p}  ramids,  which 
have  so  long  been  the  admiration  of  the  \vhole 
world,  were  the  effect  of  the  irreligion  and  merci- 
less cruelty  of  those  princes. 

M  YCER1NUS.  He  was  the  son  of  Cheops,1  but  of 
a  character  opposite  to  that  of  his  father.  So  far 
from  walking  in  his  steps,  he  detested  his  conduct, 
and  pursued  quite  dirterent  measures.  He  again 
opened  the  temples  of  the  gods,  restored  the  sacri- 
fices, did  all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  comfort  his 
subject?,  and  make  them  forget  their  past  miseries; 
and  believed  himself  set  over  them  for  no  other 
purpose  but  to  exercise  justice,  and  to  make  them 
taste  all  the  blessings  of  an  equitable  and  peaceful 
administration.  He  heard  their  complaints,  dried 
their  tears,  alleviated  their  misery,  and  thought 
himself  not  so  much  the  master  as  the  father  of 
his  people.  This  procured  him  the  love  of  them 
all.  Egypt  resounded  with  his  praises,  and  his 
name  commanded  veneration  in  all  places. 

One  would  naturally  conclude,  that  no  prudent 
and  humane  a  conduct  must  have  drawn  down  on 
Myceriuus  the  protection  of  the  gods.  But  it 
happened  far  otherwise.  His  misfortunes  began 
from  the  death  of  a  darling  and  only  daughter,  in 
whom  his  whole  felicity  consisted.  He  ordered 
exiraordinary  honors  to  be  paid  to  her  memory, 
which  were  still  continued  in  Herodotus's  time.'' 
This  historian  informs  us,  that  in  the  city  of  Sais, 
exquisite  odors  were  burnt,  in  the  day-time,  at  the 
tomb  of  this  princess;  and  that  dining  the  night  a 
lamp  was  kept  constantly  burning. 

He  was  told  by  an  oraole,  ihat  his  reign  would 
continue  but  seven  years.  And  as  he  complained 
of  this  to  the  gods,  and  inquired  the  reason,  why 
so  long  and  prosperous  a  reign  had  been  granted 
to  his  father  ana  uncle,  who  were  equallv  cruel 
and  impious,  whilst  his  own,  which  he  had  endeav- 
ored so  carefully  to  render  as  equitable  and  mild 
as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do,  should  be  so  short 
and  unhappy;  he  was  answered,  that  these  were 
the  very  causes  of  it,  it  being  the  will  of  the  gods 
to  oppress  and  afflict  Egypt  during  the  space  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years,  as  a  punishment  for  its 
crimes;  and  that  his  reign,  which  was  to  have  been 
like  those  of  the  preceding  monarchy  of  fifty  years' 
continuance,  was  shortened  on  account  of  His  too 
great  lenity.  Mycerinus  likewise  built  a  pyramid, 
but  much  inferior  in  dimensions  to  that  of  his  father. 

ASYCHIS.  He  enacted  the  law  relating  to  loans,' 
which  forbade  a  son  to  borrow  money,  without  giv- 
ing the  dead  body  of  his  father  by  way  of  security 
for  it.  The  law  added,  that  in  case  the  son  took 
no  care  to  redeem  his  father's  body  by  restoring 
the  loan,  both  himself  and  his  children  should  be 
deprived  for  ever  of  the  rites  of  sepulture. 

lie  valued  himself  for  having  surpassed  all  his 
predecessors,  by  the  building  a  pyramid  of  brick, 
more  magnificent,  if  this  kinjj  was  lo  be  credited, 
than  any  hitherto  seen.  The  following  inscription, 
by  its  founder's  order,  was  engraved  upon  it:  COM- 
PARE ME  NOT  WITH  PYRAMIDS  BUILT  OF  STONE: 
WHICH  I  AS  MUCH  EXCEL  AS  JUPITER  DOES  ALL 
TIIK  OTHER  GODS.' 

If  we  suppose  the  six  preceding  reigns  ^the  exact 
duration  of  some  of  which  is  not  fixed  by  Herudt.- 
tus)  to  comprise  one  hundred  and  seventy  \r»rs, 
there  will  remain  an  interval  of  near  three  hue 'ltd 
years  to  the  reign  of  Sabachus  the  Ethiopian.  la 
this  interval  I  place  a  few  circumstances  related  in 
Holy  Scripture. 


«  llt-rod.  I.  ii.  p.  IHO.  140.  Diod  p.  5&     »  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  l.KJ 

•  The  remainder  of  the  insrri|>tion,  as  we  find  it  in  Hero- 

ddiiis.  ii—  lor  men  piiin^m::  \ur.s  |M>lc:)  down  to  the  bottom 

01*  thn  lake,  drew  brick*,  (-*.•»  j:u;  iifv<rx>>)  out  of  the  mud 

which  viuck  to  them,  and  ga*  a  me  tli  «  form. 


PHARAOH,  king  of  Egypt,  gavn 
his  daughter  in  marriage  lo  Solo-      A.  M.  2391 
monkingof  Israel;*  who  rcceiv-      Ant.  J.  C.  1013 
ed  her  in  that  part  of  Jerusalem 
called  the  city  of  David,  till  he  had  built  her  a  palace 

SESACH  or  Shisak,   otherwise 
called  Sesonrhis.  A.  M.  3026. 

It  was  to  him  that  Jeroboam  Ant.  J.  C.  978 
fled,5  to  avoid  the  wrath  of  Solo- 
mon, who  intended  to  kill  him.  He  abode  in  Egypt 
till  Solomon's  death,  and  then  returned  to  Jerusa- 
lem, when,  putting;  himself  at  the  head  of  the  reb- 
els, he  won  from  Rehoboam,  the  son  of  Solomon, 
ten  tribes,  over  whom  he  declared  himself  king. 

This  Sesach,  in  the  fifth  year  of 
the  reign  of  Rehoboam,  inarched  A.  M.  3013. 
against  Jerusalem,  because  the  Ant.  J.  C.  971. 
Jews  had  transgressed  against  the 
Lord.  He  came  with  twelve  hundred  chariots  of 
war  and  sixty  thousand  horse.6  He  had  brought 
numberless  multitudes  of  people,  who  were  all 
Libyans,  Troglodvtes,  and  Ethiopian.*7  He  made 
himself  master  of  all  the  strongest  cities  of  Judah, 
and  advanced  as  far  as  Jerusalem.  Then  the  king 
and  the  princes  of  Egypt  having  humbled  thim- 
selves,  and  implored  the  protection  of  the  God  of 
Israel ;  God  told  them,  by  his  prophet  Shemaiah, 
that,  because  they  humbled  themselves,  he  would 
not  utterly  destroy  them  as  they  had  deserved; 
but  that  they  should  be  the  servants  of  Sesach:  in 
order  that  they  might  know  the  difference  of  hit 
service  and  the  service  of  the  kingdoms  of  the.  coun- 
try-9 Sesach  retired  from  Jerusalem,  alter  having 
plundered  the  treasures  of  the  house  of  the  Lord, 
and  of  the  king's  house;  he  carried  offeverv  thinjr 
with  him,  and  even  also  the  300  shekels  of  gt,U 
which  Solomon  had  made. 

ZERAH,  king  of  Ethiopia,  and 
doubtless  of  Lg-ypt  at  tiie  same  A.  M.  3063. 
time,  made  war  upon  Asa,  king  of  Ant.  J.  C.  941 
Judah.9  His  army  consisted  of  a 
million  of  men,  and  three  hundred  chariots  of  war 
Asa  marched  against  him,  and  drawing  up  his  army 
in  order  of  battle,  in  full  reliance  on  the  God  whom 
he  served:  Lord,  says  he,  it  is  nothing  for  thee  tt 
help,  whether  with  many,  or  with  them  that  have 
no  power.  Help  us,  O  Lord  our  God,  for  ice  rest 
on  thee,  and  in  thy  name  we  go  against  this  multi- 
tude; O  Lord,  thou  art  our  God,  let  not  man  pre- 
vail against  thee.  A  prayer  offered  up  with  such 
strong  faith  was  heard.  G'od  struck  the  Ethiopian* 
with  terror;  they  fled,  and  all  were  irrevocably 
defeated,  being  destroyed  before  the  Lord,  and  be- 
fore his  host. 

ANYSIS.  He  was  blind,10  and  under  his  reign 
SABACHUS,  king  of  Ethiopia,  being  encouraged  by 
an  oracle,  entered  Egypt  with  a  numerous  army, 
and  possessed  himself  of  it.  He  reigned  with  great 
clemency  and  justice.  Instead  of  putting  to  death 
such  criminals  as  had  been  sentenced  to  die  by  the 
judges,  he  made  them  repair  the  causeys  on  which 
the  respective  cities  to  which  they  belonged  were 
situated.  He  built  several  magnificent  temples,  and 
among  the  rest,  one  in  the  city  of  Bubastus,  of 
which  Herodotus  gives  a  long  and  elegant  descrip- 
tion. After  a  reign  of  fifty  years,  which  was  the 
time  appointed  by  the  oracle,  he  retired  voluntarily 
to  his  old  kingdom  of  Ethiopia;  and  left  the  throne 
of  Esjvpt  to  An\  sis,  who,  during  this  time,  had  con- 
~ealed  himselfin  the  fens.  It  is  believed  that  this 
Sabachus  was  the  same  with  SO,  ^  T^J  3279 
whose  aid  was  implored  bv  Hosea,  A.n't*j'c  725 
king  of  Israel,  against  Shaimaneser 
king  of  Assyria." 


•  1  Kings,  iii.  1. 
«  -jriir.in.  xii.  1—9. 


•  1  Kings,  xi.  40.  and  xii. 
«  uuiiron.  xn.  l— ». 

1  T:i-  English  version  of  the  Bible  says,  The  Lubims,  the 
Sukkiim«,  and  the  Ethiopians. 

•  Or.of  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth.      •  2Chrnn.  xiv.9— 13 
'»  Henid.  ii.  cap.  137.  Diod.  1.  i.  p.50.      "  i  Kings,  xvii  4 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


65 


SEVHON.     He  reigned  fourteen 

A    M.  3285.         years.     He  is  the  snine  with  Seve- 

Ant.  J.  C.  719.      chus,  the  son  of  Sabacon  orSo  the 

Ethiopian,  who   reigned    so    long 

over  Egypt.  This  prince,  so  far  from  discharging  the 

functions  of  a  king-,  was  ambitious  of  those  of  a  priest ; 

tausingriimsell'tobe  consecrated  high-priest ofV'ulcan. 

Abandoning  himself  entirely  to  superstition,  he  ne- 


he  therefore  was  «o  far  from  endeavouring  to  gain  their 
affections  that  he  deprived  them  of  their  privileges, 
and  even  dispossessed  them  of  the  revenues  of  such 
lan^?  as  his  predecessors  had  given  them. 

Hjwas  sojn  made  sensible  of  their  resentment  in  a 
war  that  broke  out  suddenly,  and  from  which  he  de- 
livered himself  solely  by  a  miraculous  protection,  if 
Herodotus  tuny  be  credited,  who  intermixes  his  account 
of  this  war  with  a  great  many  fabulous  particulars.  Se- 
nacharib  (so  Herodotus  calls  this  prince,)  king  of  the 
Arabians  and  Assyrians,  having  entered  Egypt  with 
a  numerous  anuy.the  Egyptian  officers  and  solrliers 
refused  to  march  against  him.  The  high-priest  of 
Vulcan,  being  thus  reduced  to  the  greatest  extremity, 
had  recourse  to  his  god,  who  bid  him  not  despond,  but 
march  courageously  against  the  enemy  with  the  few 
soldiers  he  could  raise.  Sethon  obeyed.  A  small 
number  of  merchant*,  artificers,  and  others,  who  were 
the  dregs  of  the  populace,  joined  him  ;  and  with  this 
handful  of  men,  he  marched  to  Pelusium,  where  Sena- 
cherib  had  pitched  his  camp.  The  night  following,  a 
prodigious  multitude  of  rats  entered  the  camp  of  the 
Assyrian?,  and  gnawing  all  their  bowstrings,  and  the 
thongs  of  their  shields,  rendered  them  incapable  of 
making  the  least  defence.  Being  disarmed  in  this 
manner,  they  were  obliged  to  fly  :  and  they  retreated 
with  the  loss  of  great  part  of  their  forces.  Sethon, 
when  he  returned  home,  ordered  a  statue  of  himself  to 
be  set  up  in  the  temple  of  Vulcan,  holding  in  his  right 
hand  a  rat,  and  these  words  to  be  inscribed  thereon  ; 
LET  THK  MAN  WHO  BEHOLDS  ME  LEARN  TO  REV- 
ERENCK  THE  GODS.1 

It  u  very  obvious  that  this  story,  as  related  here  from 
Hrrodotus,  is  an  alteration  of  th'at  which  istold  in  the 
Second  Book  of  Kings.1  We  there  see,  that  Senna- 
cherib king  of  the  Assyrians,  having  subdued  all  the 
neighbouring  nations,  and  made  himself  master  of  all 
the  other  cities  of  Judah,  resolved  to  besiege  Hezekiah 
in  Jerusalem,  his  capital  city.  The  ministers  of  this 
holy,  king,  in  spite  of  his  opposition,  and  the  remon- 
strances of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  who  promised  them,  in 
God's  name,  a  sure  and  certain  protection,  provided 
they  woul  I  tru*t  in  him  only,  sent  secretly  totne  Egyp- 
tians and  Ethiopians  for  succour.  Their  armies  being 
united,  marched  to  the  relief  of  Jerusalem  at  the  time 
appointed, and  were  met  and  vanquished  by  the  Assy- 
nans  in  a  pitched  battle.  He  pursued  them'into  Egypt 
and  entirely  laH  waste  the  country.  At  his  return 
from  thence,  the  very  night  before  he  was  to  have  riven 
ageneral  assault  to  Jerusalem,  which  then  seemed  lost 
to  all  hopes,  the  destroying  angel  made  dreadful  havoc 
In  the  camp  of  the  Assyrians  ;  destroyed  a  hundred 
fourscore  and  five  thousand  men  by  lire  and  sword ; 
and  proved  evidently,  that  they  had  great  reason  to  rely, 
a»  Hezekiah  had  done,  on  the  promise  of  the  God  of 
Israel. 

This  is  the  real  fact.  But  as  it  was  no  ways  honour- 
able to  the  Egyptian*,  they  endeavoured  to  turn  it  to 
their  own  advantage, bv  disguising  and  corrupting  the 
nrcnmstances  of  it.  XevenheUss,  the  footstep?  of 
this  history,  though  so  much  defaced,  ought  yet  to  be 
highly  value-!, ascoming  from  an  historian  of"so  great 
antiquity  anr1  authorhy  as  Herodotus. 

The  prophet  Isaiah  had  foretold,  at  several  times, 
that  this  expedition  of  the  Egyptians,  which  had  been 
conct  t  ted,  seeminglv,  with  such  prudence,  conducted 
jriththe  greatest  stall,  and  in  which  the  forces  of  two 
powerful  emn'res  were  united,  in  order  to  relieve  the 
Jews,  woul.l  not  only  be  of  no  service  to  Jerusalem, 
but  even  destructive  to  Egypt  itself,  whose  strongest 


cities  would  be  taken,  its  territories  plundered,  and  it* 
inhabitants  of  all  agts  and  sexes  led  into  captivity. 
See  the  18th,  19th,  20th,  30th,  31st,  &c.  chapters  of  L'u 
prophecy. 

Archbishop  Usher  and  Dean  Prideanx  suppose  that 
it  was  at  this  period,  that  the  ruin  of  the  famou?  city 
No-Amon,3  spoken  of  bv  the  prophet  Nahuui, 
happened.  That  prophet  says,  that  */if  was  carried 
away — (hat  her  young  children  were  dashed  injiii-cnat 
Ihe  lop  of  all  the  street* — that  the  enemy  cast  lofsjbr  htr 
honourable  men,  and  \\YA\allhtr  greatmen  u'tre  bound 
in  chains.  *  He  observes,  that  all  these  misfortunes 
befel  that  city,  when  Egypt  and  Ethiopia  wire  her 
strength;  which  seems  to'referclearly  enough  to  the 
time  of  which  we  are  here  speaking,  when  TKaraca 
and  Sethon  had  united  their  forces.  However,  t!,is 
opinion  is  not  without  some  difficulties,  and  is  contra- 
dieted  by  some  learned  men.  It  is  sufficient  for  me, 
to  have  hinted  to  the  reader. 

Till  the  reign  of  Sethon,5  the  Egyptian  priests 
computed  three  hundred  and  forty-one  generations  of 
men  ;  which  make  eleven  thousand  three  hundred 
and  forty  years  ;  allowing  three  generations  to  a 
hundred  years.  They  counted  the  like  number  of 
priests uq  kings.  The  latUr,  whether  gods  or  men, 
had  succeeded  one  another  without  interruption,  under 
the  name  of  Piromis,  an  Egyptian  word  signifying 
good  and  virtuous.  The  Egyptian  priests  showed 
Herodotus  three  hundred  and  forty-one  wooden  colos- 
sal statues  of  these  Piromis,  all  ranged  in  order  in  a 
great  hall.  Such  was  the  folly  of  the  Egyptians,  to 
lose  themselves  as  it  were  in  a  remote  antiquity,  to 
which  no  other  people  could  dare  to  pretend. 

THARACA.  He  it  was  who  joined 
Sethon,  with  an  Ethiopian  army,  to         A.  M.  3299. 
relieve  Jerusalem.6  After  the  death     Ant.  J.  C.  705. 
of  Sethon,  who  had  sitten  fourteen 
years  on  the  throne, Tharaca  ascended  it, and  reigned 
eighteen  years.     He  was  the  last  Ethiopian  kingwho 
reigned  in  Egypt. 

After  his  death,  the  Egyptians,  not  being  able  to 
agree  about  the  succession,  were  two  years  in  a  state 
of  anarchy,  during  which  there  were  great  disorders 
and  confusions  among  them. 

Tvielvt  Kings. 

At  last,  twelve  of  the  principal 
noblemen,  conspiring  together,  seized  A.M.  3319. 
upon  the  kingdom,  and  divided  it  Ant.  J.  C.  685. 
amongst  themselves  into  as  many 
parts. 7  It  was  agreed  by  them,  that  each  should 
govern  his  own  district  with  equal  power  and  author- 
ity, and  that  no  one  should  attempt  to  invade  or  seize 
the  dominions  of  another.  They  thought  it  necessary 
to  make  this  agreement,  and  to  bind  it  with  the  most 
dreadful  oaths,  to  elude  the  prediction  of  an  oracie, 
which  had  foretold  that  he  among  them  who  should 
offer  his  libation  to  Vulcan  out  of  a  brazen  bowl, 
should  gain  the  sovereignty  of  Egypt.  They  reigned 
together  fifteen  years  in  the  utmost  harmony:  and,  to 
leave  a  famous  monument.of  their  concord  to  poster- 
ity, they  jointly,  and  at  a  common  expense,  built  the 
famous  labyrinth,  which  was  a  pile  of  building  con- 
sisting of  twelve  large  palaces,  with  as  many  edifice* 
under  ground  as  appeared  above  it.  I  have  spoken 
elsewhere  of  this  labyrinth. 

One  day,  as  the  twelve  kings  were  assisting  at  a 
solemn  and  periodical  sacrifice  offered  in  the  temple  of 
Vulcan,  the  priests  having  presented  each  of  them  a 
golden  bowl  for  the  libation,  one  was  wanting  ;  when 
Psanmietichus,8  without  any  design,  supplie  1  the 


i  '  E,-  i.ui  T.{  << 
VOL.  I.-  -9 


•  Chap.  jtix. 


»  The  Vulgate  calls  that  ritv  Alexandria,  to  whi.-h  ihe 
Hebrew  give?  the  name  of  Ko-Amon :  because  Aiexan- 
rina  was  afterward*  built  in  the  place  where  thin  stood. 
Dean  PriuVaux,  after  Borhart.  thinks  that  it  was  Throe*, 
surnamed  Di<»|>olis.  Indeed,  the  Egyptian  Amon  in  th« 
same  with  Jupiter.  But  Thebes  U  not  the  place  irher* 
Alexandria  wa.«  since  built.  Perhaps  there  was  *..cl'iM 
city  there,  which  wan  also  called  No- Amon. 

«  Nahum,  iii.  8.  10. 

•  Herod.  I.  ii.  cap.  142. 

•  Afric.  apod  Syncel.  p.  74.     Diod.  1.  i.  p.  59, 
'  Herod.  I.  ii.  cap.  147.  152. 

'  He  was  one  of  the  twelve. 

i  2 


' 


66 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EG^PT. 


want  of  this  oowl  wilh  his  brazen  helmet  (for  each 
wore  one),  and  with  it  performed  the  ceremonj'  of  the 
libation.  This  accident  struck  the  rest  of  the  kings, 
and  recalled  to  theirmemory  the  prediction  of  the  ««ra- 
cle  above-mentioned.  They  thought  it  therefore 
necessary  to  secure  themselves  from  his  attempts,  and 
therefore,  with  one  consent,  banished  him  into  the 
fenny  parts  of  Egypt. 

After  Psammetichus  had  passed  some  years  there, 
waiting:  a  favourable  opportunity  to  revenge  himself  for 
the  affront  which  had  been  put  upon  him,  a  courier 
Drought  him  advice,  that  brazen  men  were  landed  in 
Egypt.  These  were  Grecian  soldiers,  Carians  and 
lonians,  who  had  been  cast  upon  the  coasts  of  Egypt 
by  a  storm  ;  and  were  completely  covered  with  hel- 
mets, cuirasses,  and  other  arms  ol  brass.  Psammeti- 
chus  immediately  called  to  mind  the  oracle,  which  had 
answered  him,  that  he  should  be  succoured  by  brazen 
men  from  the  sea-coast.  He  did  not  doubt  but  the 
prediction  was  now  fulfilled.  He  therefore  made  a 
league  with  these  strangers;  engaged  them  with  great 
promises  to  stay  with  him ;  privately  levied  other  for- 
ces ;  and  put  these  Greeks  at  their  head  ;  when  giv- 
ing battle  to  the  eleven  kings,  he  defeated  them,  and 
remained  sole  possessor  of  Egypt. 

PSAMMETICUS.      As  this  prince 

A.  M.  3334.        owed  his  preservation  to  the  lonians 

Ant.  J.  C.  670.     and  Carians, '  he  settled   them    in 

Egj'pt    (from  which  all  foreigners 

hitherto  had  been  excluded);  and  by  assigning  them 

sufficient  lands  and  fixed  revenues,  he  made  them  for- 

fet  their  native  country.  By  his  order,  Egyptian  chil- 
ren  were  put  under  their  care  to  learn  the  Greek 
tongue  ;  and  on  this  occasion,  and  by  this  means,  the 
Egyptians  began  to  have  a  correspondence  with  the 
Greeks  ;  and  from  that  ?era,  the  Egyptian  history, 
which  till  then  had  been  intermixed  with  pompous  ta- 
bles, by  the  artifice  of  the  priests,  begins,  accord  ing  to 
Herodotus,  to  speak  with  greater  truth  and  certainty. 

As  soon  as  Psammetichus  was  settled  on  the 
throne,  he  engaged  in  war  against  the  king  of  Assy- 
ria, on  the  subject  of  the  boundaries  of  the  two  em- 
pires. This  war  was  of  long  continuance.  Ever 
since  Syria  had  been  conquered  by  the  Assyrians, 
Palestine,  being  the  only  country  that  separated  the 
two  kingdoms,  was  the  subje.ct  of  continual  discord  ; 
as  afterwards  it  was  between  the  Ptolemies  and  the 
Seleucidae.  They  were  eternally  contending  for  it, 
and  it  was  alternately  won  by  the  stronger.  Psam- 
metichus, seeing  himself  the  peaceable  possessor  of 
all  Egypt,  and  having  restored  the  ancient  form  of 
government,2  thought  it  high  time  for  him  to  look  to 
his  frontiers,  and  to  secure  them  against  the  Assyrian, 
his  neighbour,  whose  power  increased  daily.  For 
this  purpose  he  entered  Palestine  at  the  head  of  an 
army. 

Perhaps  we  are  to  refer  to  the  beginning  of  this 
war,  an  incident  related  by  Diodorus,3  that  the  Egyp- 
tians, provoked  to  see  the  Greeks  posted  on  the  right 
wing  by  the  king  himself,  in  preference  to  them, 
quitted  the  service,  to  the  ntimber  of  upwards  of  two 
hundred  thousand  men,  and  retired  into  Ethiopia, 
where  they  met  with  an  advantageous  settlement. 

Be  this  as  it  will,  Psammetichus  entered  Palestine, * 
where  his  career  was  stopped  by  Azotus,  one  of  the 
principal  cities  of  the  country,  which  gave  him  so 
much  trouble,  that  he  was  forced  to  besiege  it  twenty- 
nine  years  before  he  could  take  it.  This  is  the  long- 
est siege  mentioned  in  ancient  history. 

This  was  anciently  one,  of  the  five  capital  cities  of 
the  Philistines.  The  Egyptians  having  seized  it  some- 
time before, had  fortified  It  with  such  care, that  it  was 
their  strongest  bulwark  on  that  side.  Nor  could  Sen- 
nacherib enler  Egypt,  till  he  had  first  made  himself 
master  of  this  city,  which  was  taken  by  Tartan,  one 
of  his  generals.5  The  Assyrians  had  possessed  it 
hitherto  ;  and  it  was  not  till  after  the  long  siege  just 
now  mentioned,  that  the  Egyptians  recovered  it. 


«  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  153. 154. 

•  This  revolution  happened  obout   seven  yearn  after  the 
uptivit j  of  Manasseh  king  of  Judith. 

•  Jjb.  i.  p.  61.          <  II -rod.  1.  ii.  c.  157.        *  lift.  zx.  1. 


In  this  period,6  the  Scythians,  leaving  the  banksol 
the  Palus  Maotis,  made  an  inroad  into  Media,  de- 
feated Cyaxares  the  king  of  that  country,  and  de- 
prived him  of  all  Upper  Asia,  of  which  they  kepi 
possession  during  twentj -eight  years.  They  pushed 
their  conquests  in  Syria,  as  far  as  to  the  frontiers  o1 
Egypt.  But  Psainiuetichttf,  marching  out  to  met! 
them,  prevailed  so  far,  by  his  presents  and  entrt  atiea, 
that  they  advanced  no  farther,  and  by  that  means  de- 
livered his  kingdom  from  these  dangerous  enemies. 

Till  his  reign, 7  the  Egyptians  had  imagimd  them- 
selves to  be  the  most  ancient  nation  upon  earth. 
Psammetichus  was  desirous  to  prove  this  himself,  and 
he  employed  avery  extraordinary  experiment  for  tint, 

Curjiose.  He  commanded  (if  we  may  credit  the  re- 
ition)  two  child ren,  newly  born  of  poor  parents,  to 
be  brought  up  (in  the  country)  in  a  hovel,  that  was  to 
be  kept  continually  shut.  Ihey  were  committed  to 
the  care  of  a  shepherd  (others  say,  of  nurses,  whose 
tongues  were  cut  out),  who  was  to  feed  them  with  the 
milk  of  goats  ;  and  who  was  commanded  not  to 
suffer  any  person  to  enter  into  this  hut,  nor  hinistlf  to 
speak  even  a  single  word  in  the  hearing  of  these  chil- 
dren. At  the  expiration  of  two  years,  as  the  shepherd 
was  one  day  coming  into  the  hut  to  ft ed  these  chil- 
dren, they  both  cried  out,  with  hands  extended  towards 
their  foster-father,  ieccos,  bcccos.  The  shepherd  sur- 
prised to  hear  a  language  that  was  quite  ntw  to  him, 
but  which  they  repeated  frequently  afterwards,  sent 
advice  of  this  to  the  king,  who  ordered  the  children  to 
be  brought  before  him,  in  order  that  he  himself  might 
be  a  witness  to  the  truth  of  what  was  told  him  ;  and 
accordingly  both  of  them  began,  in  his  presence,  to 
stammer  out  the  sounds  above-mentioned.  .Nothing 
now  was  wanting,  but  to  ascertain. M  hat  nation  it  was 
that  used  this  word;  and  it  was  found,  that  the  1  hrygi- 
ans  called  bread  by  this  name.  From  thi*  time  they  were 
allowed  the  honour  of  antiquity,  or  rather  of  priority, 
which  the  Egyptians  themselves,  notwithstanding 
their  jealousy  of  it,  and  the  many  ages  they  had 
possessed  this  glory,  were  obliged  to  nsign  to  them. 
As  goats  were  brought  to  these  children,  in  ordtr  that 
they  might  feed  upon  their  milk,  and  historians  do  not 
say  that  they  were  deaf;  some  are  of  opinion  that 
they  might  have  learnt  the  word  bee,  or  bcccoa,  by 
mimicking  the  cry  of  those  creatures. 

Psammetichus  died  in  the  24th  year  of  Josias  king 
of  Judah,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Nedmo. 
NECHAO.  8    This  prince  is  often         .    ,T  00oo 

.•          j     •       c*      .    j  j         ,\_  A.  1V1.  oooo. 

mentioned  in  Scripture  under  the  .  i  f  cic 
name  of  Pharaoh-Necho. 

He  attempted  to  join  the  Nile  to  the  Red  Sea,  by 
cutting  a  canal  from  one  to  the  other.  The  distance 
which  separates  them  is  at  least  a  thousand  stadia.* 
After  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  workmen  had 
lost  their  lives  in  this  attempt,  Nechao  was  obliged  to 
desist;  the  oracle  which  had  been  consulted  by  him 
having  answered,  that  this  new  canal  would  open  a 
passage  to  the  Barbarians  (for  so  the  Egyptian* called 
all  other  nations)  to  invade  Egypt. 

Nechao  was  more  successful  in  another  enterprise.  " 
Skilful  Phoenician  mariners,  whom  lie  had  taken  into 
his  service,  having  sailed  from  the  Red  Sea  in  order  to 
discover  the  coasts  of  Africa,  went  successfully  round 
it  ,  and  the  third  year  after  their  setting  out,  returned 
to  Egypt  through"  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar.  This  was 
a  very  extraordinary  voyage,  in  an  age  when  the 
compass  was  not  known.  H  was  made  twentv-one 
centuries  before  Vasco  de  Gama,  a  Portuguese  (by 
discovering  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  in  the  year 
1497),  found  out  the  very  same  way  to  sail  to  the  In- 
dies, by  which  these  Phosnicians  had  come  from  thence 
into  the  Mediterranean. 

The  Babylonians  and  Medes11   having  destroyed 


•  Herod.  1.  i.  c.  105. 
i  Herod.  7.  ii.  r.  2,  3. 


•  Herod.  I.  ii  c.  158. 

•  Allowing  625  feet  (or  125  geometricnl  pares)  to  each 
stadium,  the  distance  will  be  119  English  miles  and  a  littlf 
above  one  third  of  a  mile.  Herodotus  .-nys,  that  this  de 
sign  wan  afterwards  put  in  execution  by  Darius  the  Persian. 
B.  ii.  c.  158.  i«  'Ik-rod.  1.  iv.  c.  452. 

11  Joreph.  Antiq.  1.  x.  c.  G.  2  Kings,  xxiii  29,  W.  i 
Chron.  xxxv.  20—25. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


67 


Nlncven,  and  with  it  the  empire  of  the  Assyrians, 
•rere  thereby  become  so  formidable,  that  they  drew 
npoo  themselves  the  jealousy  of  all  their  neighbours. 
Nechao,  alarmed  at  thi  danger,  advanced  to  the  Eu- 
phrates, at  the  head  A  a  powerful  army,  in  order  to 
check  their  progress.  Josiah,  king  of  Judah,  so  fa- 
mjus  for  his  uncommon  piety,  observing  that  he  took 
his  route  through  Judea,  resolved  to  oppose  his  pas- 
cage.  With  this  view,  he  raised  all  the  forces  of  his 
kingdom  aad  posted  himself  in  the  valley  of  Megid- 
do  (a  city  on  this  side  Joitlan,  belonging  to  the  tribe 
of  Manasseh,  and  called  Magdoius  by  Herodotus.) 
Nechao  informed  him  by  a  herald,  that  his  enterprise 
was  not  designed  against  him;  that  he  had  other  ene- 
mies in  view;  and  that  he  had  undertaken  this  war 
in  the  name  of  God,  who  was  with  him;  that  for  this 
reason  he  advised  Josiah  not  to  concern  himself  with 
this  war,  for  fear  lest  it  otherwise  should  turn  to  h'u 
disadvantage.  However,  Josiah  was  not  moved  by 
these  reasons  :  he  was  sensible  that  the  bare  march  of 
BO  powerful  an  army  through  Judea  would  entirely  ruin 
it.  And  besides,  he  feared  that  the  victor,  after  the  de- 
feat of  the  Bab\lonians,  woulJ  fall  upon  him,  and  dis- 
possess him  of  part  of  his  dominions.  He  therefore 
marched  to  engage  Nechao  ;  and  was  not  only  over- 
thrown by  him,  but  unfortunately  received  a  wound, 
of  which  he  died  at  Jerusalem,  whither  he  had  order- 
ed himself  to  be  carried. 

Nechao,  animated  by  this  victory,  continued  his 
march,  and  advanced  towards  the  Euphrates.  He 
defeated  the  Babylonians  ;  took  Carchemish,  a  large 
citv  in  that  country;  and  securing  to  himself  the  posses- 
lion  of  itby  a  strong  garrison,  returned  to  his  own  king- 
dom, after  having  been  absent  from  it  three  months. 

Being  informed  in  his  march  homeward,  that  Jehoa- 
haz  had  caused  himself  to  b£  proclaimed  kingof  Jeru- 
salem, without  first  asking-  his  consent,  he  commanded 
him  to  meet  him  at  Riblah  in  Syria.1  The  unhappy 
prince  was  no  sooner  arrived  there, than  he  was  put  in 
chains  by  Nachao's  order,  and  sent  prisoner  to  Egypt, 
where  he  died.  From  thence  pursuing  his  march  he 
came  t>>  Jerusalem,  where  he  placed  Eliakim  (.'.ai;°H 
by  hi.n  Jeho;akim),  another  of  Josiah's  sons,  upon  me 
throne,  in  the  room  of  his  brother  ;  and  imposed  an 
annual  tribute  on  the  land,  of  a  hundred  talents  of 
silver  and  one  talent  of  gold. z  This  being  done  he 
returned  in  triumph  to  Egypt. 

Herodotus,8  mentioning  this  king's  expedition  and 
fhe  victory  gained  by  him  at  Magdoius*  (as  he  calls 
Ft,)  savs  that  he  afterwards  took  the  city  Cadvtis, 
which  he  represents  as  situated  in  the  mountains  of 
Palestine,  and  equal  in  extent  to  Sardis,  the  capital  at 
that  time  not  only  of  Lydia,  but  of  all  Asia  Minor  : 
this  description  can  suit  only  Jerusalem,  which  was 
situated  in  the  manner  abovedescribed,  and  was  then 
the  only  city  in  those  parts  that  could  be  compared  to 
Sardis.  Jt  appears  beside  from  Scripture,  that  Aerhao, 
after  his  victjrv,  made  himself  master  of  this  capital 
of  Judea  ;  for  he  was  there  in  person,  when  he  gave 
the  crown  to  Jehoakim.  The  very  name  Cadytis,  which 
m  Hebrew  signifies  the  Holts  clearly  denotes  the 
city  of  Jerusalem,  as  is  proved  by  the' learned  Dean 
Prideaux. s 

•  <2  Kinss  xxii.  33.  35.    2  Chron.  xxxvi.  J.  3,  4. 

•  The   Hebrew  silver   talent,  according  to  Dr.   Cumber- 
land, i«  equivalent  to  353/.  \\».  V*\4  to  (          ,«.  ,,„.  ,  ... 
that  100  talents.  Enslish  money,  make  j          •».•»•»•  '  •* 
the  gold  talent,  according  to  the'tarne  5075  15  ~\ 


The  amount  of  the  whole  tribute 40,4353  14 

»  Lib.  ii.  c.  151.  4  Megiddo. 

•  From  the  time  that  Solomon,  by  means  of  hi*  temple, 
had  made  Jerusalem  the  common  place  of  worship  to  all 
Israel,  it  was  distinguished  from  the  rent  of  the  cities  by 
the  epithet  Holy,  and  in  the  Old  Testament  was  called  Air 
Hakkodenh.  i.  e.  the  city  of  holiness,  or  the  holy  city.  It 
bore  this  title  upon  the  coins,  and  the  shekel  was  inscribed 
Jerusalem  Ktdnski,  i.  e.  Jerusalem  the  holy.  At  length 
Jerusalem,  fur  brevity's  sake  was  omitted,  "and  only  Ke- 
<ru«na  reserved.  The  Syriac  being  the  prevailing  language, 
in  Herodotus'*  time.  Kedusha,  by  a  change  in  thai  dialect 
of  »A  into  tk.  was  made  Keduiha;  and  Herodotus  giviojf  it 
a  Greek  termination,  it  was  writ  KaTun;.  or  Cadytu.  Pri- 
team's  Oonnerion  of  the  OU  and  A1r»  Tutamtitt,  vol.  i. 
ptri  i.  p.  80,  81.  STO.  edit. 


Nabopolasser,  king  of  Babylon, 
observing  that,  since  the  taking  of  A.  M.  3397. 
|  Carchemish  by  Nechao, all  Syriaand  Ant.  J.  C.  60T, 
Palestine  had  shaken  off  their  alle- 
giance to  him;  and  that hisy tats  and  infirmities  would 
not  permit  him  to  march  against  the  rebels  in  person, 
he  therefore  associated  his  son  Nabuchodonosor,  or 
Nebuchadnezzar,  with  him  in  the  empire,  and  sent  him 
at  the  head  of  an  army  into  those  countries.  This 
young  prince  vanquished  the  army  of  Nechao  near  the 
river  Euphrates,  recovered  Carchemish  and  reduced 
the  revolted  pro\  inces  to  their  allegiance,  as  Jeremiah* 
had  foretold.  Thus  he  dispossessed  the  Egyptians 
of  all  that  belonged  to  them,'  from  the  liule  river8 of 
Egypt9  to  the  Euphrates,  which  comprehended  all 
Syria  and  Palestine. 

Nechao  d\  ing  alter  he  had  reigned  sixteen  years 
left  the  kingdom  to  his  son. 

PSA.MMIS.     His  reign  was  but  of 
six  years'  duration;10    and   history       A.   M.  3404. 
has  left  us  nothing  memorable  con-     Ant.  J.   C.  600. 
cerning  him  except  that  he  made  an 
expedition  into  Ethiopia. 

it  was  to  this  prince  that  the  Eleans  sent  a  splendid 
embassy,  after  having  instituted  the  Olympic  games. 
They  had  established  all  the  regulations,  and  arranged 
every  circumstance  relating  to  them,  with  such  care, 
that  in  their  opinion,  nothing  seemed  wanting  to  their 
perfection,  and  envy  its*  ll  could  nut  find  am  fault  with 
them.  However  they  did  not  desire  so  much  to  have 
the  opinion,  as  to  gam  the  approbation,  of  the  Eifyj)- 
tians,11  who  were  looked  upon  as  the  wisest  and  most 
judicious  people  in  the  world.  Accordingly  the  king 
assembled  the  sages  of  his  nation.  After  every  thing 
had  been  heard  which  could  be  said  in  favour  of  this 
institution,  the  Eleans  were  asked,  whether  citizens 
and  foreigners  were  admitted  indifferently  to  these 
games  ;  to  which  answer  was  made,  that  they  were 
open  to  every  one.  To  this  the  Egyptians  replied, 
that  the  rules  of  justice  would  have  been  more  strictly 
observed,  had  foreigners  only  been  admitted  to  these 
'  ombats  ;  because  it  was  very  dith'cult  for  the  judges 
in  their  award  of  the  victory  and  the  prize,  not  to  be 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  their  ftllow-citizens. 

A^RfE^.  in  Scripture12 he  iscalled 
Pharaoh-Hophra.      He    succeeded       A.  M.  3410. 
his   father   Psmiiuis,   and    reigned     Ant.  J.  C.  594. 
twenty-five  years. 

During  the  first  year  of  his  reign,13  he  was  as  fortu- 
nate as  any  of  his  predecessors.  He  turned  his  arms 
against  the  island  of  Cyprus  ;  he  besieged  the  citv  of 
Sidon  by  sea  and  land  ;  took  it,  and  made  himself 
master  of  all  Phoenicia  and  Palestine. 

So  rapid  a  success  elated  his  heart  to  a  prodigious 
degree, and  as  Herodotus  informs  us,  swelled  him  with 
so  much  pride  and  infatuation,  that  he  boasted,  it  was 
not  in  the  power  of  the  god*  themselves  to  dethrone 
him  ;  so  great  was  the  idea  ne  had  formed  to  himself 
of  the  firm  establishment  of  his  own  power.  It  was 
with  a  view  to  these  arrogant  notions,  that  Ezekiel  put 
the  vain  and  impious  words  following  into  his  mouth: 
My  river  if  my  own,  and  I  have  made  it  for  myself.1* 
But  the  true  God  proved  to  him  afterwards  that  he  had 
a  master,  and  that  he  was  a  mere  man  :  and  he  had 
threatened  him  long  before,  by  his  prophets,  with  all 
the  calamities  he  was  resolved  to  bring  upon  him  io 
order  to  punish  him  for  his  pride. 

Shortly  after  Hophra  had  ascended  the  throne, 
Zekekiah  king  of  Judah  sent  an  embassy,  15  and  con- 
cluded an  alliance  with  him;  and  theye'ar  following, 
breaking  the  oath  of  fidelity  which  he  had  take* 


•  Jer  xlvi.  8.  »  2  Kings,  xxiv.  7, 

1  This  little  river  of  Egypt.  *o  often  mentioned  to 
Scripture,  u  the  boundary  of  Palestine  towards  E^y^t, 
was  not  the  Nile,  but  a  small  river,  whirh  running  through 
the  desert  that  lay  betwixt  thorn  two  nations,  was  an- 
ciently the  common  boundary  of  both.  So  far  the  land 
which  had  been  promised  to  the  posterity  of  Abraham, 
and  divided  among  them  by  lot,  extended.  Gen  xv.  11 
Josh.  xv.  4.  •  A  rivo  ^Egrp'i. 

to  Herod.  I.  ii.  e.  160.  »  C.  160.         «•  jer. 

u  Herod.  I.  ii.  e.  161.  Diod.  1.  i.  p.  62. 

»  Ezek.  zxix,  3.  ••  Chsp.  «vu.  15 


68 


HISTORY  -OF  THE  KINGS  OF  EGYPT. 


to  the   king  of  Babylon,  he  rebelled  openly  against 
him. 

.Notwithstanding  God  had  so  often  forbidden  his 
people  to  have  rt  course  to  the  Egy  ptians,  or  to  put  any 
contideiice  in  that  people  ;  notwithstanding  the  re- 
peated calamities  which  had  ensued  upon  the  various 
attempts  which  they  had  made  to  procure  assistance 
from  them  ;  they  still  thought  this  nation  their  most 
sure  refuge  in  danger,  and  accordingly  could  not  Ibr- 
Dear  appUing  to  it.  This  they  had  already  done  in 
the  reign  oi  the  holy  king  Hezekiah  ;  which  gave 
occasion  to  God's  uussage  to  his  people  by  the  mouth 
of  his  prophet  Isaiah  ;'  Wo  to  (item  that  ft  doicn  to 
Egypt  for  help,  and  stay  en  horsts  and  trust  in  chariots, 
because  they  are  many;  but  they  look  not  unto  tlte  Holy 
One  of  Israel,  neither  seek  the  Lord.  The  Egyptians 
«a~emen,and  not  God:  and  their  horsesjiish,  not  spirit: 
ir/it  ;i  the  Lord  shall  stretch  out  his  hand,  both  he  that 
helpeth  shall  Jail,  and  he  that  isholpen  shall  Jail  down, 
and  they  shall  fail  together.  But  neither  the  prophet 
•or  the  king  was  heard  ;  and  nothing  but  the  most 
fatal  experience  coul.l  open  their  eyes,  and  make  them 
see  evidently  the  truth  of  God  s  threatenings. 

The  Jews  behaved  in  the  very  same  manner  on  this 
occasion.  Zedekiah,  notwithstanding  all  the  remon- 
strances of  Jeremiah  to  the  contrary,  resolved  to  con- 
clude an  alliance  with  the  Egyptian  monarch  ;  who, 
putied  up  with  the  success  oi  his  arms,  and  confident 
that  nothing  could  resist  his  power,  declared  himself 
the  protector  of  Israel,  and  promised  to  deliver  it  from 
the  tvrannv  ot  Aabuchodonosor.  But  God,  oriended 
that  a  mortal  had  dared  to  intrude  himself  into  his 
place,  thus  declared  himself  to  another  prophet;  Son 
ofman,  set  thyjace  against  Pl.araoh king  of  Egypt, arid 
prophcs'j  against  hi/n, and  against  all  t-.g-ypt.  Speak  and 
toy,  Thus saith  the  Lord  God;  Beh^id,!  am  against 
thee,  Pharaoh  king °f  Egypt,  thegn .«/  dragon  that  lieih 
in  the  midst  of  his  rivers,  ichich  hith  said,  Jiy  river 
is  mint:  own, and  I  have  made  itfor  myself.  But  /will 
put  hook's  in  thy  jaws,2  &c.  God,  alter  comparing 
him  to  a  reed,  which  orcaks  under  the  man  v.-ho  leans 
upon  it,  and  wounds  his  hand,  adds.  Behold,  1  will 
bring  a  sword  upon  thee, and  cut  off'wn  and  Least  out 
of  thee:  the  land  of  Egypt  shall  be  ditoiate,  and  they 
shall  knov:  that  lam  the  Lord;  beca-^te  i>e  hath  said, 
The  river  is  mine  and  I  have  made  it.3  The  same 
prophet  in  several  succeeding  chapters,  *  continues  to 
foretell  the  calamities  with  which  Egypt  was  going  to 
be  overwhelmed. 

Zedekiah  was  far  from  giving  credit  to  these  pre- 
dictions. When  he  heaid  ol  the  approach  of  the 
Egyptian  army,  and  saw  Nabuchodonosor  raise  the 
siege  of  Jerusalem,  he  fancied  that  his  deliverance  was 
completed, and  anticipated  a  triumph.  His  joy,  how- 
ever, was  but  of  short  duration  ;  for  the  Egyptians 
seeing  the  Chaldeans  advancing,  did  not  dare  to  en- 
counter so  numerous  and  well  disciplined  an  army. 
They  therefore  marched  back  into 

A.  M.  3416.  their  own  country  and  left  the  un- 
Ant.  J.  C  588.  fortunate  Zedekiah  exposed  to  all 
the  dangers  of  a  war,5  in  which  they 
themselves  had  involved  him.  JS" abuchodooosor  again 
sat  down  before  Jerusalem  ;  took  and  burnt  it,  as 
Jeremiah  had  prophesied. 

Many  years  after,6  the  chastise- 

A.  M.  3430.  ments  with  which  God  threatened 
Ant.  J.  C.  574.  Apries  (Pharaoh-Hophra)  began  to 
fall  upon  him.  Forthe  Cyreneans.a 
Greek  colony,  which  had  settled  in  Africa,  between 
Libya  and  Egypt,  having  seized  upon  and  divided 
among  themselves  a  great  part  of  the  country  belong- 
ing to  the  Libyans,  forced  these  nations,  who  were 
thus  dispossessed  by  violence,  to  throw  themselves 
into  the  arms  of  this  prince  and  implore  his  protection, 
immediately  Apries  sent  a  mighty  army  into  Libya,  to 
oppose  the  Cyrenians  ;  but  this  army  being  defeated 
•  nd  almost  cut  to  pieces,  the  Egyptians  imagined  that 
Aprie*  had  sent  it  into  Libya,  only  to  get  it  destroyed; 


'  Chap.  xxxi.  1.  3. 

•  Chap.  xxix.  8,  9. 

•  Jet.  xxxvii. 

•  Herod.  1.  ii.  c.  1C1.  Jtc.     Died  1.  u  p.  02. 


»  Chap.  xxix.  2 — I. 

«  Ezek.  xxix,  xxx,  xxxi,  xxxii. 


and  by  that  means  to  attain  the  power  of  govciijinj* 
his  subjects  without  check  or  control.  Tl.is  relii-ctiuD 
prompt,  d  the  Egyptians  to  shake  ofl  the  yoke  of  a 
prince  whom  they  now  considered  as  their  tnemj. 
But  Apries,  healing  oi  the  rtbt  llion,  despatched  Ama- 
sis one  ot  his  officers,  to  suppress  it,  and  force  the 
rebels  to  return  to  their  alleg.ance.  But  the  moment 
Amasis  began  to  address  them,  they  placed  a  I.e  lu.et 
upon  his  head,  in  token  of  the  exalted  dignity  to  which 
they  intended  to  raise  him,  and  proclaimed  l.iiu 
king.  Amasis  having  accepted  the  crown,  staged 
with  the  mutineers  and  continued  them  in  their  re- 
hellion. 

Apiies,  more  exasperated  than  ever  at  this  news, 
sent  latat  be  mis,  another  ot  his  great  officers. and  one 
ot  the  principal  lonJs  of  his  court,  to  put  Aoiasisundel 
an  arrest  and  bring  him  before  him  ;  but  latatbeuiis 
not  being  able  to  earn  ofl  Amasis  from  the  micstof 
the  rebel  army,  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  was 
treated  by  Apries  at  his  return,  in  the  most  ignomin- 
ious and  inhuman  manner;  for  his  nose  and  eais  wtre 
cut  off  by  the  command  of  that  prince,  w  ho  neve  r  consi- 
dered that  only  his  want  of  power  had  prevented  his 
executing  his  commission.  So  barbarous  an  outrage, 
committed  upon  a  person  of  such  high  distinction, 
exasperated  the  Egyptians  so  much,  that  the  greatest 
part  of  them  joined  the  rebels,  and  the  insurrection 
became  general.  Apries  was  now  forced  to  retire;  into 
Li  pper  Eg}  pt,  where  he  supported  himself  some  years, 
during  which  A  mat  is  mat;  e  himstlf  master  of  the  rest 
of  his  dominions. 

The  troubles  which  thus  distracted  Egypt,  aflbrded 
Nabuchodonosor  a  favourable  opportunity  to  iuvaele 
that  kingdom;  and  it  was  God  himse  It  who  inspired  him 
with  the  resolution.  This  prince  who  was  the  instru- 
mi  nt  of  God's  wrath  (though  he  did  not  know  himself 
to  be  so)  against  a  people  whom  he  was  resolved  to 
chastise,  had  just  belbre  taken  Tyre,  «  here  himself 
and  his  army  had  laboured  under  incredible  difficulties. 
To  recompense  their  toils,  God  abandoned  Egypt  to 
their  arms.  It  is  wonderful  to  hear  the  Creator  him 
se-lf  revealing  his  designs  on  this  subjtct.  There  are 
few  passages  in  Scripture  more  remaikable-  tl  an  tl.is 
or  which  give  a  clearer  idea  of  the  supreme  authority 
which  God  exercisf  s  over  all  the  princes  and  king- 
doms of  the  earth:  Son  ofman  (sa\s  the  Almighty  to 
his  prophet  Ezekiel,7)  J\~ebuchadntzzar,khtg(fI2aby- 
lon,  caused  his  army  to  serve  a  grca!  strvict  against 
Tyrus;  every  head  was  made  bald, and  every  shoulder 
teas  peeled:8  yet  had  lie  no  wages,  nor  his  armi/Jbr  the 
service  he  had  served  against  it.*  Therefore  thus  saith 
the  Lord  God:  Behold  J  will  give  the  land  tj  Egypt  un- 
to J\~ebucliadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  and  he  s/.all  take 
her  multitude ,  and  lake  her  sj  oil,  and  take  it  rprey,  and 
it  shall  be  the  wagcsjbr  his  army.  1  l.avegivin  him  the 
land  of  Egypt  for  his  labour,  wherewith  he  served 
against  it,  because  they  vrotightfor  mt,saitli  the  Lord 
God.  Saysanother  piophet:'°.//e  shall  array*  himself 
with  the  land  <f  Eyypt,  as  a  shepherd  piitle'ih  on  hi* 
garment,  and  ht.jfliall  go  forth  from  thence  in  peace. 
Thus  shall'he  load  himself  witii  booty,  and  thus  cover 
his  own  shoulders  and  those  of  his  fold,  with  all  the 
spoils  of  Egypt.  Noble  expressions!  which  show  the 
ease  with  which  all  the  power  and  riches  of  a  king- 
dom are  carried  away,  when  God  appoints  the  revolu- 
tion; and  shift,  like  a  garnic  nt,  to  a  new  owner,  who 
has  no  more  to  do  but  to  take  it,  and  clothe  himself 
with  it. 


i  Chap.  xxix.  J8— 20. 

•  The  baldness  of  the  heads  of  the  Babylonians  wa»  ow 
ingto  the  pressure  of  theirhelmels;and  their  peeled  shouldert 
to  their  carrying  baskets  of  earth  and  large  pieces  of  timber 
to  join  Tyre  to  the  continent.     Baldness  was  itself  a  liudg* 
of  slavery  ;  and  joir.ed  to  the  pttlid  shoulders,  shows  th»l 
the  conqueror's  army  sustained  even  the  most  servile  labour* 
in  this  memorable  siege. 

•  For  the  better  understanding'  of  this  passage,  we  ar» 
to   know    that   Nabuchodonosor   sustained   incredible  hard- 
ships at  the  siege  of  Tyre  ;  ana  thni  when  the  Tynans  saw 
themselvef  closely  attacked,  the  nobles  conveyed   tlienifrlvei 
and  their  richest  effects  on  ship  board,  and  retired  into  other 
islands.     S<>  that   when  Nabuchodonosor   took    the  city,   hs 
found  nothing  to  recompense  the  toil  which  he  had  under 
{one  in  this  siege.     S.Jtrom.  ••  Jer.  xliii.  12 


HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGS  OP  EGYPT. 


69 


The  king  of  Babylon,  taking;  advantage  there-fore 
tf  the  intestine,  divisions  which  the  rebellions  of  Am- 
asis  had  occasioned  in  that  kingdom,  marched  thither 
»t  the  head  of  his  army.  He  subdued  F.gypt  from 
Migdol,  or  Magdol,  a  town  on  the  frontiers  of  the 
kingdom,  as  far  as  Svene,  in  the  opposite  extremity, 
where  it  borders  on  Ethiopia.  He  made  a  horrible  de- 
vastation wherever  he  came,  killed  a  great  number  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  made  such  dreadful  havoc  in  the 
country,  thai  the  damage  could  not  be  repaired  in  forty 
years.  jVaouchodonosor,  having  loaded  his  army  with 
spoils  and  conquered  the  whole  kingdom, came  to  an 
accommodation  with  Amasis  ;  and  leaving  him  as  his 
viceroy  there,  returned  to  Babylon. 

APRIES  (Pharaoh-Hophra)  now  leaving  the  place 
where  he  had  concealed  himst  If,  advanced  towards 
the  sea  coast  (probably  on  the  side  of  Libya);1  and 
hiring  an  army  of  Carians,  lonians,  and  other  foreign- 
ers, he  marched  against  Amasis,  to  whom  he  gave 
battle  near  Memphis;  but  being  overcome,  Apries 
was  taken  prisoner,  carried  to  the  city  of  Sais,  and 
there  strangled  in  his  own  palace. 

The  Almighty  had  given  by  the  mouth  of  his  pro- 
phets, an  a<t  jr.'s'iing  relation  of  the  several  circum- 
stances of  this  mighty  event.  It  was  He  who  had  bro- 
ken t!.e  power  of  Apries,  which  was  once  so  formidable, 
and  put  the  sword  into  the  hand  of  IVabuchodonosor, 
in  order  that  he  might  chastise  and  humble  that 
Lang1  ty  prince.  lam,  said  he,2ag-ainst  Pharaoh  king 
of  Egypt,  and  will  break  his  arms,  which  were  strong; 
out  now  are  broken;  and  I  will  cause  the  sword  tofall 
out  of  his  I  and. — 3But  I  will  strengthen  the  arms  of 
the  kinsr  of  Babylon,  and  put  my  sicord  into  his  hand. 
*.1nd  they  shall  know  that  lam  the  Lord. 

He  enumerates  the  towns  which  were  to  fall  a  prey 
to  the  victors:  5  Pathros,  Zoan,  No,  (called  in  the 
Vulgate  Alexandria),  Sin,  Aven,  Pibeseth,  &c.6 

He  takes  notice  particularly  of  the  unhappy  end  of 
Ihe  king,  who  was  to  be  delivered  up  to  his  enemies. 
7'hvs  saith  the  Lord:  Behold,  I  will  give  Pharaoh- 
Hophra,  the  king-  of  Egypt,  into  the  hand  of  his  ene- 
nies,  and  in'o  the  hand  of  them  that  seek  his  life."1 

Lastly  lie  declares,  that  during  forty  years  the  Egyp- 
tians shall  be  oppressed  with  every  species  of  calami- 
ty, ajvl  be  reduced  to  so  deplorable  a  state,  TTiat  there 
thall  be  no  more  aprince  oj"the  land  of  Egypt.9  The 
event  verified  this  prophecy,  which  was  gradually  ac- 
complished. Soon  after  the  expiration  of  these  forty 
years,  Egypt  was  made  a  province  of  the  Persian  em- 
pire, to  which  its  kings  though  natives  of  the  country, 
were  tributary  ;  and  thus  the  accomplishment  of  the 
prediction  began.  It  was  completely  fulfilled  on  the 
death  of  Xectanehtis  the  last  king  of  Egyptian  ex- 
traction, A.  M.  3654.  Since  that  time  Egypt  has 
con«tpntly  been  governed  by  foreigners.  For  since 
the  niiu  of  the  Persian  monarchy,  it  has  been  subject 
successively  to  the  Macedonians,  the  Romans,  the 
Saracens  the  Mamelukes,  and  lastly  to  the  Turks, 
who  possess  it  to  this  day. 

God  was  not  less  punctual  in  the  accomplishment 
of  his  prophecies,  with  regard  to  such  of  his  own 
people  as  had  retired,  contrary  to  his  prohibition,  into 
F.srvpt,  after  the  taking  of  Jerusalem,  and  had  forced 
JerPiiMah  along  with  them.9  The  instant  they  had 
reached  Egyot,  and  were  arrived  at  Tahpanhes  (or 
Tani«\  the  Prophet  after  having  hid  in  their  presence 
(by  Cio-l's  command)  stones  in  a  grotto,  which  was 
near  the  king's  palace,  declared  to  them,  that  Nabu- 
chodonosor  should  soon  arrive  in  F.gypt,  and  that  God 
would  establish  his  throne  in  that  very  place;  that  this 
prinre  would  lav  waste  the  whole  kingdom,  and  carry- 
fire  and  sword  into  all  place*;  that  themselves  should 
fall  into  the  hand  of  these  cruel  enemies,  when  one 


i  Herod.  I.  ii.  c.  103.  169.     DioH   I.  i.  p.  62. 

•  Eyek.  xxr.22.  »  \Vr.  24. 

*  Ver.  25  •  \Vr   14—17. 

•  The   names  of  these  towns  are  given  0.8  they  itand   in 
•or    EnslUh   version.       In   the  marsin  are  printed  a^airst 
Zoan,  Tunis;  n?ainst   Sin.  Pulufium  ;  nrainjt    Avrn,   Helio- 
poli ;  nirain«t  Fibs«>tli,  Puh.intunt:  «n<l  by  thfse  last  names 
they  nre  montioiu-d  in  the  original  French  of  M.  Rollin. 

Oer.  xliv.  30.  »  Ezek   xxx.  13. 

*  Jcr.  xliil  xliv. 


part  of  them  would  be  massacred,  and  the  rm  led 
captive  to  Babylon;  that  only  a  very  small  number 
should  escape  the  common  desolation, and  be  al  last 
restored  to  their  country.  All  these  propheciib  had 
their  accomplishment  in  the  appointed  time. 

AMASIS.      After   the    death    of 
Apries.  Amasis  became  peaceable       A.  M.  3435. 
possessor   of  Egypt,   ana    reigned     Ant.  J.  C.  569. 
over  it  forty  years.     He  was,  ac- 
cording to  f-lato,10  a  native  of  the  city  of  Sais. 

As  he  was  but  of  mean  extraction,1'  he  met  with  no 
respect  in  the  beginning  of  his  rtign,  but  was  only 
contemned  by  his  subjects  :  he  wiis  not  insensible  of 
this;  but  nevertheless  thought  it  his  interest  to  subdue 
their  tempers  by  management  and  address,  and  win 
their  affections  by  gentleness  and  reason.  He  had  a 
golden  cistern,  in  which  himself  and  those  persons 
who  were  admitted  to  his  table,  used  to  wash  their 
feet;  he  melted  it  down,  and  had  it  cast  into  a  statue, 
and  then  exposed  the  new  god  to  public  worship. 
The  people  hasted  in  crowds  to  pay  their  adoration  to 
the  statue.  The  king  having  assembled  the  people 
informed  them  of  the  vile  uses  to  which  this  statue  had 
once  been  put,  which  nevertheless  was  now  the  object 
of  their  religious  prostrations  ;  the  application  was 
easy,  and  had  the  desired  success;  the  people  thence- 
forward paid  the  king  all  the  respect  that  is  due  to 
majesty. 

He  always  used  to  devote  the  whole  morning  to 
public  business,12  to  receive  petitions,  give  audience, 
pronounce  sentence,  and  hold  his  councils;  the  rest 
of  the  day  was  given  to  pleasure:  and  as  Amasis,  in 
hours  of  diversion,  was  extreme  ly  gay,  and  seemed  to 
carry  his  mirth  beyond  due  bounds,  his  courtiers  took 
the  liberty  to  represent  to  him  the  unsuitableness  of 
such  a  behaviour;  when  he  answered,  that  it  was  as  im- 
possible for  the  mind  to  be  always  serious  and  intent 
upon  business  as  for  a  bow  to  continue  always  bent. 

It  was  this  king  who  obliged  the  inhabitants  of  eve- 
ry town  to  enter  their  names  in  a  book,  kept  by  the 
magistrate  for  that  purpose,  with  their  profession,  and 
manner  of  living.  Solon  inserted  this  custom  among 
his  laws. 

He  built  many  magnificent  temples,  especially  at 
Sais,  the  place  of  his  birth.  Herodotus  admired  espe- 
cially a  chapel  there,  formed  of  one  single  stone, 
which  was  twenty  cubits'3  in  front,  fourteen  in  depth, 
and  eight  in  height;  its  dimensions  within  were  not 
quite  so  large:  it  had  beoi brought  from  Elephantina; 
and  two  thousand  men  had  employed  three  years  in 
conveying  it  along  the  Aile. 

Amasis  had  a  great  esteem  for  the  Greeks.  He 
granted  them  large  privileges;  and  permitted  such  of 
them  as  were  desirous  of  settling  in  Fgypt  to  live  in 
the  city  of  Naucratis,  so  famous  for  its  harbour. 
When  the  rebuilding  of  the  temple  of  Delphi,  which 
had  been  burnt,  was  debated  on,  and  the  expense  wa« 
computed  at  three  hundred  talents,1'*  Amasis  furnished 
the  Delphians  with  a  very  considerable  sum  towards 
discharging  their  quota,  which  was  the  fourth  part  ol 
the  whole  charge. 

He  made  an  alliance  with  the  Cyrenians,  and  mar 
ried  a  wife  from  among  them. 

He  is  the  only  king  of  Egypt  who  conquered  th« 
island  of  Cyprus,  and  made  it  tributary. 

Under  his  reign  Pythagorascame  into  Egypt,  being 
recommended  to  that  monarch  by  the  famous  Poly- 
crates,  tyrant  of  Samos.  who  had  contracted  a  friend- 
ship with  Amasis,  and  will  be  mentioned  hereafter 
Pythagoras,  during  his  stay  in  Egypt,  was  initiated  in 
all  the  mysteries  of  the  country:  and  instructed  bj 
the  priests  in  whatever  was  most  abstruse  and  im 
portant  in  their  religion.  It  was  here  he  imbibed  hr 
doctrine  of  the  Metempsychosis,  or  transmigration  oi 
souls. 

In  the  expedition  in  which  Cyrus  conquered  so 
great  a  part  of  the  world,  Egypt  doubtless  was  sub- 
dued, like  the  rest  of  the  provinces;  and  XenophoB 
positively  declares  this  in  the  beginning  of  his  Cy  ropne- 


»•  In  Tim.        "  Herod.  I.  ii.  c.  172.        •»  III.  1   ii.  c.  71 
>*  The   cubit   in  one  foot  and  almost  ten   inches.     FMl 
tupra.  M  Or,  58.1-J5/  ste  li.ij. 


70 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


dia,  or  institution  of  that  prince. '  Probably,  after 
that  the  forty  years  of  desolation,  which  had  been 
foretold  by  th'e  prophet,  were  expired,  Egypt  begin- 
ning gradually  to  regain  in  strength,  Amasu  shook  off 
the  yoke,  and  recovered  his  liberty. 

Accordingly,  we  find,  that  one  of  the  first  cares  of 
Cambyses,  the  son  of  Cyrus,  after  he  had  ascended 
the  throne,  was  to  carry  his  arms  into  Egypt.  On  his 
arrival  there,  Aina-is  was  just  dead,  and  succeeded 
by  his  son  Psammenitus. 

PsAMME>nTUS.    Cambyses,  after 

A.  M.  3479.        having  gained  a  battle,  pursued  the 

Ant.  J.  C.  525.     enemy  to  Memphis;  besieged  the 

city,  and  soon  took  it:  however, 

1  'E-rijp-i  J.  x»i  *EXXi|i>«i>  Tin  it  TII  'Am,  xara£x(  J;  iiri 
liXarrxv,  xai  Kv— pi*'  x»j  Aiyva-riuy,  p.  5.  edit.  Hut- 
ehinsoni 


he  treated  the  king  with  clemency,  granted  him  hit 
lite,  and  assigned  him  an  honorable  pension;  but 
being  informed  that  he  was  secretly  concerting 
measures  to  re-ascend  his  throne,  he  put  him  to 
death.  Psammenitus  reigned  but  six  months:  all 
Egypt  submitted  immediately  to  the  victor.  The 
particulars  of  this  history  will  be  related  more  at 
large,  when  I  come  to  that  of  Cambyses. 

Here  ends  the  succession  of  the  Egyptian  kings. 
From  this  aera  the  history  of  this  nation,  as  was  be- 
fore observed,  will  be  blended  with  that  of  the  Per- 
sians and  Greeks,  till  the  death  of  Alexander.  At 
that  period,  a  new  monarchy  will  arise  in  Egypt, 
founded  by  Ptolemy  the  son'  of  Lagus,  which  "wil 
continue  to  Cleopatra,  that  is,  for  about  three  hundred 
years.  I  shall  treat  each  of  these  subjects,  in  th* 
several  periods  to  which  they  belong. 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


BOOK  II. 


I  ihall  divide  the  following  history  of  tlie  Carthaginians  into 
two  parts.  In  the  first,  I  shall  give  a  general  idea  of  the 
manners  of  that  people,  their  clmracter,  government,  reli- 
gion, power,  and  riches.  In  the  second,  after  relating  in 
few  words,  by  what  steps  Carthage  established  and  en- 
larged its  power,  I  shall  give  an  account  of  the  wan  by 
which  it  became  go  famous. 


PART    I. 

CHARACTER,   MANNERS,    RELIGION,   AND  GOV- 
ERNMENT OP  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


SECTION  I.  CARTHAGE  FORMED  AFTER  THE 
MODEL  OF  TYRE,  OF  WHICH  THAT  CITY  WAS  A 
COLONY. 

THE  Carthaginians  were  indebted  to  the  Tyrians, 
not  only  for  their  origin,  hut  for  their  manners,  lan- 
guage, customs,  laws,  religion,  and  their  great  appli- 
cation to  commerce,  as  will  appear  from  every  part  of 
the  sequel.  They  spoke  the  same  language  "with  the 
Tyrians,  and  these  the  same  with  the  Canaanites  and 
Israelites;  that  is,  the  Hebrew  tongue,  or'  at  least  a 
language,  which  was  entirely  derived  from  it.  Their 
names  had  commonly  some  particular  meaning: 
Thus //anno  signified  gracious,  bountiful;  Dido.nmt- 
able,  or  well-beloved;  Sophonisba,  one  who  keeps 
faithfully  her  husband's  secrets.1  From  a  spirit  of 
religion,  they  likewise  joined  the  name  of  God  to 
their  own.  conformably  to  the  genius  of  the  Hf>br«-ws. 
Hannibal,  which  answers  to  Hanamas,  signifies  Baal 
[or  the  Lord]  has  been  gracious  In  me.  Asdrubal 
answering  to  Azanas,  implies,  the  Lord  will  be  out 
tucconr.  It  is  the  same  with  other  names,  Adherbal, 
Maharbal,  Mastanabal,  &c.  The  word  Popni,  from 
which  Punic  is  derived,  is  the  same  with  Phoeni,  or 

>  Bor.bart,  part  ii.  1.  ii.  c.  16 


Phoenicians,  because  they  came  originally  froi>  Phoe» 
nicia.  In  the  Poenulus  of  Flautus  is  a  scene  i-itten 
in  the  Punic  tongue,  which  has  very  much  exercised 
the  learned.2 

But  the  strict  union  which  always  subsisted  be- 
tween the  Phoinicians  and  Carthaginians,  is  still  more 
remarkable.  When  Cambyses  had  resolved  to  make 
war  upon  the  latter,  the  Pho?nicians,  who  formed  th« 
chief  strength  of  his  Heel,  told  him  plainly,  that  they 
could  not  serve  him  against  their  countrymen;3  and 
this  declaration  obliged  that  prince  to  lay  aside  his 
design.  The  Carthaginians,  on  their  side,  were  never 
forgetful  of  the  country  from  whence  they  came,  and 
to  which  they  owed  their  origin.  They  .sent  regu- 
larly every  year  to  Tyre,4  a  ship  freighted  with  pre- 
sents, as  a  quit-rent  or  acknowledgment  paid  to  their 
ancient  country;  and  an  annual  sacrifice  was  offered 
to  the  tutelar  gods  of  Tyre  by  the  Carthaginians, 
who  considered  them  as  their  protectors  likewise. 
They  never  failed  to  send  thither  the  first  fruits  of 
their  revenues;  nor  the  tithe  of  the  spoils  taken  iron* 
their  enemies,  as  offerings  to  Hercules,  one  of  thft 
principal  gods  of  Tyre  and  Carthage.  The  Tvrians, 
to  secure  from  Alexander  (who  was  then  besieging 
their  city)  what  they  valued  above  all  things,  I  meao 
their  wives  and  children,  sent  them  to  Carthh«re; 
where,  though  at  a  time  when  the  inhabitants  of  the 
latter  were  involved  in  a  furious  war,  they  were  re- 
ceived and  entertained  with  such  a  kindness  and  gen- 
erosity as  might  be  expected  from  the  roost  tender 
and  opulent  parents.  Such  uninterrupie-J  testimonies 
of  a  warm  and  sincere  gratitude,  do  a  nation  mors 
honour,  than  the  greatest  conquests  and  the  ..lost 
srlorious  victories. 


•  The  first  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  translated  intJ  Laila  to 
Petit,  in  the  second  book  of  hii  .Aliscfllunio*. 
»   It. -rod.  I.  iii.  c.  !7-I(.>. 
«  Polyb.  «J44.     Q,.  Curt.  1.  ir.  c.  2.  3. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


71 


SECTION    IL     THE  REIJGIO'  OF  THE  CARTHAGI- 
NIA>S. 

It  appears  from  several  passage*  of  the  history  ol 
Carthage,  that  its  generals  looked  upon  it  as  an  indis- 
pensable dutv,  to  begin  and  end  all  their  enterprises 
with  the  worship  of  the  gods.  Hainilcar, l  father  of 
»he  great  Hannibal,  before  he  entered  Spain  in  a  hos- 
1  ,le  manner,  offered  up  a  sacrifice  to  the  gods ;  and  his 
ion,  treading  in  his  steps,  before  he  left  Spain,  and 
inarched  against  Rome,  went  as  far  as  Cadiz  in  order 
»o  pav  the  vows  which  he  had  made  to  Hercules,  and 
to  offer  up  new  ones,  in  case  that  god  sfiould  be  pro- 
pitious to  him.  After  the  battle  of  Canna?,2  when  he 
acquainted  the  Carthaginians  with  the  joyful  news,  he 
recommended  to  them  above  all  things,  the  ottering 
up  a  solemn  thanksgiving  to  the  immortal  gods,  tor 
the  several  victorieslie  had  obtained.  Pro  Ins  lands 
totque  victcriit  cerum  esse  grates  diit  immorlalibus 
ag-i  haberiqvc. 

Neither  did  individuals  alone  pride  themselves  upon 
displaying,  on  every  occasion,  this  religious  care  to 
honour  the  deity;  but  it  evidently  was  the  genius  and 
disposition  of  the  whole  nation. 

Polybius*  has  transmitted  to  us  a  treaty  of  peace 
concluded  between  Philip,  son  of  Demetrius,  king  of 
Macecion,  and  the  Carthaginians,  in  which  the  great 
respect  and  veneration  of  the  latter  for  the  deity,  and 
their  inherent  persuasion  that  the  gods  engage  in,  and 
preside  over,  human  ad'airs,  and  particularly  over  the 
colemn  treaties  made  in  their  name  and  presence,  are 
strongly  displayed.  Mention  is  therein  made  of  five 
or  six  different  orders  of  deities;  and  this  enumera- 
tion appears  very  extraordinary  in  a  public  instru- 
ment, such  as  a  treaty  of  peace  concluded  between  two 
nations.  I  will  here  present  1113-  reader  with  the  very 
worJs  of  the  historian,  as  it  will  give  some  idea  of  the 
Carthaginian  theology.  This  treaty  teas  concluded 
in  the  presence  of  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  Apollo;  in  the 
presence  of  the  demon  or  genivs  (I  ».^o»«{)  of  the  Car- 
thaginians, of  Hercules  and  lolaits;  in  the  pretence 
of  Mars,  Triton,  and  JVepttme;  in  the  presence  of  all 
the  confederate  gods  of  the  Carthaginians;  and  if  the 
tun,  the  moon,  and  the  earth;  in  the  presence  of  the 
riters,  meads,  and  waters;  in  the  presence  of  all  those 
gpJs  who  possess  Carthage.  What  shoul.l  we  now 
say  to  an  in>trument  of  this  kind,  in  which  the  tutelar 
angels  and  saints  of  a  kingdom  should  be  introduced'? 

The  Carthaginians  had  two  deities  to  whom  they 
paid  a  more  particular  worship,  and  who  deserreto 
have  some  mention  made  of  them  in  this  place. 

The  first  was  the  goddess  Ccelestis,  called  likewise 
Urauia.  the  same  with  the  Moon,  who  was  invoked  in 
great  calamities,  and  particularly  in  droughts,  in  order 
lo  obtain  rain:  That  very  virgin  CuMest's,  says  Tertul- 
lian,4  the  promiser  of  rain,  Ista  ipsa  f  irgo  Caelestis 
plttriantm  polliciiatrix.  Tertullian,  speaking  of  this 
goddess  and  of  .Esculapius,  makes  the  heathens  of  that 
age  a  challenge,  which  is  bold  indeed,  but  at  the  same 
time  very  glorious  to  the  cause  of  Christianity ;  decla- 
ring, that  any  Christian  who  may  first  come,  shall 
oblige  these  false  gods  to  confess  publicly,  that  they 
are  but  de\ils;  and  consenting  that  this  Ch'ristian  shall 
be  immediately  killed,  if  he  does  not  extort  such  a 
confession  from  the  mouth  of  these  go:!s.  .Vis  I  se  dce- 
tnones  covftssi  futrint  Ciiristiano  mentiri  non  niulen- 
tes,  iliiJem  illins  Christiani  procacissimi  sangninem 
ftindite.  St.  Austin  likewise  makes  frequent  mention  of 
this  cleitv.  What  is  now,  says  he,5  become  ffCacleslis, 
ichost  empire  was  once  so  great  in  Carthage?  This 
was  doubtless  the  same  deity,  whom  Jeremiah*  calls 
the  queen  of  hear  en;  and  w'ho  was  held  in  so  much 
reverence  by  the  Jewish  women,  that,  they  addressed 
their  vows,  burnt  incense,  poured  out  drink-offerings, 
and  made  cakes  for  her  with  their  own  hands,  utfa- 
eienl  placentas  reginre  ccrti;  and  from  whom  they 
boasted  their  having  received  all  manner  of  blessings, 
«vltil«t  they  resrularlv  paid  her  this  worship;  whereas, 
jure  they  had  failed  in  it,  they  had  been  oppressed 
tilth  misfortunes  of  every  kind. 


i  ].;T.  i.  xxi   ii.  I.  Ibid   n.  21.  •  Liv.  I.  xxiii.  n.  11. 

L.  vii.  p.  502.  4  ApiJog.  c.  »xiii. 

In  Psalm  xcviii.  •  Jer.  rii.  18.  and  xliv.  17— -23. 


The  second  deity  particularly  adored  by  the  Car- 
thaginians, and  in  whose  honour  human  sacrifices  wer« 
ottered,  was  Saturn,  known  in  Scripture  by  the  name 
of  Moloch ;  and  this  worship  had  passed  from  Tyre  to 
Carthage.  Philo  quotes  a  passage  from  Sanchonia- 
thon,  which  shows  that  the  kings  of  Tyre,  in  grtat 
dangers,  used  to  sacrifice  their  sons  to  appiase  the 
anger  of  the  gods;  and  that  one  of  them,  by  this  ac- 
tion, procured  himself  divine  honours,  and  was  wor- 
shipped as  a  god,  under  the  name  of  the  planet  Saturn, 
to  this  doubtless  was  owing  the  fable  of  Saturn's  de- 
vouring his  own  children.  Private  persons,  when  they 
were  desirous  of  averting  any  great  calamity,  took  the 
same  method;  and,  in  imitation  of  their  princes,  were 
so  verv  superstitious,  that  such  as  had  no  children, 
purchased  those  of  the  poor,  in  order  that  they  might 
not  be  deprived  of  the  merit  of  such  a  sacrifice.  Thi» 
custom  prevailed  long  among  the  Phoenicians  and 
Canaanites,  from  whom  the  Israelites  borrowed  it, 
though  forbidden  expressly  by  Heaven.  At  first, 
these  children  were  inhumanly  burnt,  either  in  a  fiery 
furnace,  like  those  in  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  so  often 
mentioned  in  Scripture;  or  enclosed  in  a  flaming 
statue  of  Saturn.  The  cries  of  these  unhappy  victims 
were  drowned  by  the  uninterrupted  noise,  of  drums 
and  trumpets. 7  Mothers  s  made  it  a  merit,  and  a  part 
of  their  religion,  to  view  this  barbarous  spectacle  with 
dry  eyes,  and  without  so  much  as  a  groan;  and  if  a 
tear  or  a  sigh  stole  from  them,  the  sacrifice  was  lest 
acceptable  to  the  deity,  and  all  the  effect?  of  it  were 
entirely  lost.  This  strength  of  mind,9  or  rather  sav- 
age barbarity,  was  carried  to  such  excess,  that  even 
mothers  would  endeavour,  with  embraces  and  kisses, 
to  hush  the  cries  of  their  children;  kst,  had  the  vic- 
tim been  offered  with  an  unbecoming  grace,  and  in 
the  midst  of  tears,  it  should  be  displeasing  to  the  god : 
Blanditiis  et  osciilis  comprimebanl  vagitvm,  nejlebi- 
Us  hosiia  immolaretur. lo  They  afterwards  content- 
ed themselves  with  making  their  children  pass  through 
the  fire,  as  appears  from  several  passages  of  Scripture; 
in  which  they  frequently  perished. 

11  The  Carthaginians  retained  the  barbarous  custom 
of  ortering  human  sacrifices  to  their  gods,  till  the  ruin 
of  their  city:11  an  action  which  ought  to  have  been 
called  a  sacrilege  rather  than  a  sacrifice.  Sacrilegi- 
wn  variiis  quitm  sacrum.  It  was  suspended  only  for 
some  years,  from  the  fear  they  were  under  of  drawing 
upon  themselves  the  indignation  and  arms  of  Darius 
I.  king  of  Persia,  who  forbade  them  the  offering  up 
of  human  sacrifices,  and  the  eating  the  flesh  of  dogs: 
13 but  they  soon  resumed  this  horrid  practice;  since, 
in  the  reign  of  Xerxes,  the  successor  to  Darius,  Gelon, 
the  tyrant  of  Syracuse,  having  gained  a  considerable 
victo'ry  over  the  Carthaginians  in  Sicily,  among  other 
conditions  of  peace  which  he  enjoined  them,  inserted 
this  article ;  viz.  That  no  more  hitman  sacrifices  should 
be  offered  to  Saturn.  And,  doubtless,  the  practice  of 


'  Plut.  de  supers! it.  p.  171. 

i   li»fl.TT»«fi  i.    tt  /urrxp  «TIJ.«T»{   xxi    i«-T«»«T»{,  ice. 

The  cruel  and  pitiless  mother  stood  by  a*  an  unconcerned 
spectator ;  a  jrnian  or  a  tear  falling  from  her.  would  have 
been  punished  by  a  tine;  and  still  the  child  must  have  been 
sacrificed.  Pltti.de  superstitione.  *  Tertul.  in  Apolog. 

••  Minut.  Felix.  '«  Q.  Curt.  I.  iv.  c.  5. 

«•  It  appears  from  Tertullian's  Apology,  that  this  barba- 
rous custom  prevailed  in  Africa  long  after  the  ruin  of  Car 
thage.  fnfantfs  penes  African  Saturno  immo/abantur  ft 
lam  usque  ad  procaugittatum  Tiberii.  q*i  eosdem  sactrdatet 
in  eiiriem  arboribus  templi  svi  obumbratricihuf  tceltrum  ro- 
tiris  eracibm  erptsuit,  te,<le  militia  patritr  »«.*fr«r  qua  id 
iffdim  munus  illi  proeonsvli  fuiteta  eat,  i.  e.  Children  were 
publicly  sacrificed  to  Saturn,  down  to  the  procoiifuUhip  of 
Ti!.< TIUS.  who  hanged  the  sacrificing  priests  themselves  on 
the  trees  which  shaded  their  temple,  as  on  so  many  crosuei. 
raised  to  expiate  their  crimes  of  which  the  militia  of  our 
country  are  witnesses,  who  were  the  actors  of  this  execution 
at  the'command  of  this  proconsul.  Tcrtull.  Jpotog.  c.  9. 
Two  learned  men  are  at  variance  about  the  proconsul,  and 
the  time  of  his  government.  Salmatius  confesses  his  igno- 
rance of  both  ;  but  rejects  the  authority  of  Sculijcr.  wlio.  fot 
protott**latum,  reails  profOH£ii!em  Tiberii.  and  thi:.ks  Ter- 
tullian, when  he  wrote  his  Apology,  had  forgot  his  nam«. 
However  this  lie.  it  is  certain  that  the  memory  of  the  inci- 
dent here  related  by  TertuHian  was  then  recent,  and  prona 
lily  the  witnesses  of  it  had  not  been  Ions  dead 

"  Plut.  de  (era  vindic.  decorum,  p.  53-. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


the  Carthaginians,  on  this  very  occasion,  made  Gelon 
use  this  precaution.  For  during  the  whole  engage- 
ment,1 winch  lasted  from  morning  till  night,  Haunl- 
car,  the  son  of  Hanno  their  general,  was  perpetually 
offering  up  to  the  gods  sacriiices  of  living  men,  who 
were  t.irown  in  great  numbers  on  a  flaming  pile;  and 
teeing  his  troops  routed  and  put  to  flight,  he  himself 
rus.'ie.J  into  it,  in  order  that  he  might  not  survive  his 
own  disgrace,  and  to  extinguish,  says  St.  Ambrose 
speaking  of  this  action,  witn  his  own  blood,  this  sa- 
crilegious fire,  when  he  found  that  it  had  not  proved 
of  service  to  him.'* 

In  times  of  pestilence3  they  used  to  sacrifice  a 
great  number  of  children  to  their  gods,  unmoved 
f»ith  pity  for  a  tender  age,  which  excites  compassion 
iu  the  most  cruel  enemies;  thus  seeking  a  remedy  for 
their  evils  in  guilt  itself,  and  endeavouring  to  appease 
the  gods  by  the  most  shocking  barbarity. 

Dio-lorus4  relates  an  instance  of  this  cruelty  which 
rtrikes  the  reader  with  horror.  At  the  time  that 
Agathocles  was  just  going  to  besiege  Carthage,  its 
inhabitants,  seeing  the  extremity  to  which  they  were 
reduced,  imputed  all  their  misfortunes  to  the  just 
anger  of  Saturn,  because  that,  instead  of  offering  up 
children  nobly  born,  who  were  usually  sacrificed  to 
him,  there  had  been  fraudulently  substituted  in  their 
stead  the  children  of  slaves  and  foreigners.  To  atone 
for  this  crime,  two  hundred  children  of  the  best  fami- 
lies in  Carthajje  were  sacrificed  to  Saturn;  besides 
which,  upwards  of  three  hundred  citizens,  from  a 
sense  of  their  guilt  of  this  pretended  crime,  volunta- 
rily sacrificed  themselves.  Diodorus  adds,  that  there 
was  a  brazen  statue  of  Saturn,  the  hands  of  which 
were  turned  downward;  so  that  when  a  child  was 
laid  on  them  it  dropped  immediately  into  a  hollow, 
where  was  a  fierv  furnace. 

Can  this,  says 'Plutarch,5  be  called  worshipping  the 
gods?  Can  we  be  said  to  entertain  an  honourable 
idea  of  them,  if  we  suppose  that  they  are  pleased  with 
slaughter,  thirsty  of  human  blood,  and  capable  of  re- 

Suiring  or  accepting  such  offerings?  Religion,*  says 
jis  judicious  author,  is  placed  between  two  rocks, 
that  are  equally  dangerous  to  man,  and  injurious  to 
the  deity,  1  mean  impiety  and  superstition.  The  one, 
from  an  affectation  of  free-thinking,  believes  nothing; 
and  the  other,  from  a  blind  weakness,  believes  all 
things.  Impiety,  to  rid  itself  of  a  terror  which  galls 
it,  denies  the  very  existence  of  the  gods:  whilst  su- 
perstition, to  calm  its  fears,  capriciously  forges  gods, 
which  it  makes  not  only  the  friends,  but  protectors 
and  models  of  crimes.  Had  it  not  been  better,  says 
he  farther  7  for  tXe  Carthaginians  to  have  had  ori- 
ginally a  Critias,  or  a  Diagoras,  who  were  open  and 
undisguised  atheists,  for  their  lawgivers,  than  to  have 
established  so  frantic  and  wicked  a  religion?  Could 
the  Typhons  an:l  the  giants  (the  avowed  enemies  of 
the  gods,)  had  they  gained  a  victory  over  them,  have 
established  more  abominable  sacrifices? 

Such  were  the  sentiments  which  a  heathen  enter- 
tained of  this  part  of  the  Carthaginian  worship.  One 
would  indeed  scarce  believe  that  mankind  were  capa- 
ble of  such  madness  and  frenzv.  Men  do  not  gene- 
rally of  themselves  entertain  ideas  so  destructive  of 
all  that  nature  considers  as  most  sacred,  as  to  sacri- 
fice, to  murder,  their  children  with  their  own  hands, 
•nd  to  throw  them  in  cool  blood  into  fiery  furnaces! 
Sentiments  so  unnatural  and  barbarous,  and  yet  ' 
adopte  1  by  whole  nations,  and  even  by  the  most  civ- 
ilized, by  the  Phoenicians,  Carthaginia'ns,  Gauls,  Scy- 
thians, and  even  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  conse- 

•  Herod.  1.  vii.  c.  167. 

•  In  ipsos  quos  adolnhat   eete  precipitant  i«rnc«,  lit  eos 
rel  cruore  ftuo  exungueret,  quos  lib!  niliil  profuisse  cognove- 
rat.     5.  jJmA 

•  Cor;   peste   laliorarent,  cruenta  sacrorum   religione  et 
leelere  pro  rcmedio  u«i  sunt.     Quippe  hominc*   ut  vii-limas 
immolahaiit.  fit  impubere«  (qua?  aMa*  etiam  hostium  tniseri- 
eordiam  provocat)  aris  admovebant,  pacemdenrum  sanjuine 
torum  cxposc-cnir?.   pro  quorum,  vita  dii  ma.xime  r.iirari  so 
lonl.     Ju.itin    I.  xviii.  c..  H.     The  Gauls  as  well  a»  German* 
used  to  nacrifice  men,  if  Dionysius  and  Tacituif  may  be  ere- 
tiled. 

«   Kib.  1*.  p.  756.  »  De  nuperstitione,  p.  160—171. 

•  Idem,  in  Cumill.  p.  132   '  De  supcrstitior.e. 


crated  bv  custom  during  a  1  jng  series  of  ages,  can 
have  betn  inspired  by  him  only  who  was  a  murderer 
from  the  beginning;  and  who  delights  in  nothing  but 
the  humiliation,  misery,  and  perdition,  of 'man. 

SECTION    III. — FORM    OF    THE    GOVERNMENT    OF 
CARTHAGE. 

THE  government  of  Carthage  was  founded  upon 
principles  of  the  most  consummate  wisdom:  and  it  il 
with  reason  that  Aristotle8  ranks  this  republic  in  tho 
number  of  those  that  were  had  in  the  greatest  esteem 
by  the  ancients,  and  which  were  fit  to  serve  as  a  mo- 
del for  others.  He  grounds  his  opinion  on  a  reflec- 
tion, which  does  great  honour  to  Carthage,  bv  re- 
marking, that  from  its  foundation  to  his  time  (tnat  is, 
upwards  of  five  hundred  years,)  no  considerable  sedi- 
tion had  disturbed  the  peace,  nor  am  tyrant  oppress- 
ed the  liberty  of  that  state.  Indeed",  mixed  govern- 
ments, such  as  that  of  Carthage,  where  the  povt  <  r  \va» 
divided  betwixt  the  nobles  and  the  people,  <n-t  subject 
to  two  inconveniences;  either  of  degenerating  into 
an  abuse  of  liberty  by  the  seditions  of  the  populace, 
as  frequently  happened  in  Athens,  and  in  all  t!ie  Gre- 
cian republics;  or  into  the  oppression  of  t:ie  public 
liberty  by  the  tyranny  of  the  nobles,  as  in  Athens,  Sy- 
racuse, Corinth,  Thebes,  and  Rome  itst  If  under  Svlla 
and  Cajsar.  It  is  therefore  giving  Carthage  the  high- 
est praise,  to  observe,  that  it  had  found  out  the  art, 
by  the  wisdom  of  its  laws  and  the  harmony  of  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  its  government,  to  shun,  during  so  l^ug 
a  series  of  years,  two  rocks  that  are  so  dangerous,  and 
on  which  others  so  often  split. 

It  were  to  be  wished,  that  some  ancient  author  had 
left  as  an  accurate  and  regular  description  of  the  cus- 
toms and  laws  of  this  famous  republic.  For  want  of 
such  assistance,  we  can  only  give  onr  readers  a  con- 
fused and  imperfect  idea  of  them,  by  collecting  the 
several  passages  whic  h  lie  scattered  up  and  down  in 
authors.  Christopher  Hendrich  has  obliged  the  learn- 
ed world  in  this  particular;  and  his  work  9  has  been 
of  great  service  to  me. 

The  government  of  Carthage, 10  like  that  of  Sparta 
and  Rome,  united  three  ditferent  authorities,  which 
counterpoised  and  g-ave  mutual  assistance  to  one  an- 
other. These  authorities  were,  that  of  the  two  su- 
preme magistrates,  called  Sutietes;"  that  of  the  se- 
nate; and  that  of  tiie  people.  There  afterwards  wa« 
added  the  tribunal  of  One  Hundred,  which  had  great 
credit  and  influence  in  the  republic. 

The  Snjfetes. 

The  power  of  the  SutTetes  was  only  annual,  and 
their  authority  in  Carthage  answered  to  that  of  the 
consuls  at  Rome.1*  In  authors  they  are  frequently 
called  kings,  dictators,  consuls,  because  they  exercise 
the  functions  of  all  three.  History  does  not  inform  ui 
of  the  manner  of  their  election.  They  were  emj>ow- 
ered  to  assemble  the  senate; 13  in  which  they  presided, 
proposed  subjects  fq,r  deliberation,  and  collected  the 
votes;1*  and  they  likewise  presided  in  all  dtbatison 
matters  of  importance.  Their  authority  was  not  limit- 
ed to  the  cif.y,  nor  confined  to  civil  affairs;  they  some- 
times had  the  command  of  the  armies.  We  find,  that 
when  their  employment  of  Sutietes  expired,  they 
were  made  praetors,  which  was  a  considerable  office, 
since,  besides  conferring  upon  them  the  privilege  of 
presiding  in  some  causes,  it  also  empowered  them  to 
propose  and  enact  new  laws,  and  call  to  account 
the  receivers  of  the  public  revenues,  as  appears  from 
what  Livv  l5  relatesconcerning  Hannibal  on  this  head 
and  which  I  shall  take  notice  of  in  the  sequel. 

•  De  rep.  I.  ii.  r.    11. 

•  It  is  entitled. 'Carthago  sire  Cart/iacrinen-innt  rf<pu4 
lien.  $-c.    Pranrofurti  ad  Oiliram,.ann.  16G-4. 

10  Polyb.  1.  iv.  p  4  *. 

i'  This  name  is  derived  from  a  word,  which,  with  th» 
Hebrews  and  1'ho-nicians.  signifies  judges. — K/iop/ie.'im. 

»»  Ut  Roma1  cons'ilcs.  sic  Cartliai-inf  quiiiannis  unnui  bin 
reges  creabantur.  Corn  »\>/>.  i"  ritii  J)nnihain,  c.  7  Titf 
great  Hannibal  was  unre  one  of  the  SufTi'les. 

i.»  Seiialum  ita<|ui-  Sufll-tes,  quod  vclut  ronsulare  imps 
rium  iipud  i'ivs  erat,  viK-avrrunl  Lir.  1.  \\x.  n.  T. 

14  Cum  Suffotes  ad  jus  dir»ndum  ronsedis»ent.  U.  I 
xzxiv.  n.  02  '•  Lib.  xxxiii.  n.  46  47. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


The  Senate. 

The  Senate,  composed  of  persons  who  were  venera- 
ble or  account  of  their  age,  their  experience,  their 
jirtli,  their  riches,  and  especially  their  merit,  formed 
-.he  council  of  state;  and  were,  if  I  may  use  that  ex- 
oression,  the  soul  of  the  public  deliberations.  Their 
number  is  not  exactly  known:  it  must,  however,  have 
>een  very  great,  since  a  hundred  were  selected  from 
t  to  form  a  separate  assembly,  of  which  1  shall  imme- 
jiattly  have  occasion  to  speak.  In  the  Senate,  all 
»ffairs  of  consequence  were  debated,  the  letters  from 
centrals  read  the  complaints  of  provinces  heard,  am- 
bassadors admitted  to  audience,  and  peace  or  war  de- 
termined, as  is  seen  on  many  occasions. 

When  the  sentiments  and  votes  were  unanimous,1 
the  senate  decided  supremely,  and  there  lay  no  appeal 
from  it.  When  there  was  a  division,  and  the  senate 
could  not  be  brought  to  an  agreement,  the  affair  was 
then  hud  before  the  people  on  whom  the  power  of 
deciding  thereby  devolved.  The  reader  will  easily 
perceive  the  great  wisdom  of  this  regulation;  and 
now  happily  it  was  adapted  to  crush  factions,  to  pro- 
duce harmony,  and  to  enforce  and  corroborate  good 
counsels:  such  an  assembly  being  extremely  jealous 
of  its  authority,  and  not  easilv  prevailed  upon  to  let 
it  pass  into  other  hands.  Of  this  we  have  a  memora- 
ble instance  in  Polybius;2 — When,  after  a  loss  of  the 
battle  fought  in  Africa,  at  the  end  of  the  second  Punic 
war,  the  conditions  of  peace  ottered  by  the  victor  were 
read  in  the  senate;  Hannibal,  observing:  that  one  of 
the  senators  opposed  them,  repres.ented  In  the  strong- 
est terms,  that  as  the  safety  of  the  republic  lay  at 
stake,  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  senators 
to  be  unanimous  in  their  resolutions,  to  prevent  such 
a  debate  from  coming  before  the  people;  and  he  car- 
ried his  point.  This,  doubtless,  laid  the  foundation, 
in  the  infancy  of  the  republic,  of  the  senate's  power, 
and  raised  its  authority  to  so  great  a  height.  And  the 
same  author  observes,3  in  another  place,  that  whilst 
the  senate  had  the  administration  of  affairs,  the  state 
was  governed  with  great  wisdom,  and  was  successful 
in  all  its  enterprises. 

The  People. 

It  appears  from  every  thing  related  hitherto,  that 
even  so  low  as  Aristotle's  time,  who  gives  so  beautiful 
a  picture,  and  bestows  so  noble  a  eulogium  on  the 
government  ol  Carthage,  the  people  spontaneously 
left  the  care  of  public  affairs,  and  the  chief  adminis- 
tration of  them,  to  the  senate:  and  this  it  was  which 
made  the  republic  so  powerful.  But  things  changed 
afterwards.  For  the  people,  grown  insolent  by  their 
wealt'a  and  conquests,  and  forgetting  that  they  owed 
these  blessings  to  the  prudent  conduct  of  the  senate, 
were  desirous  of  having  a  share  in  the  government, 
and  arrogated  to  themselves  almost  the  whole  power. 
From  that  period,  the  public  affairs  were  transacted 
wholly  by  cabals  and  factions:  and  this  PoUbius  as- 
signs as  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  the  ruin  of  Carthage. 

The  Tribunal  of  the  Hundred. 

This  was  a  body  composed  of  a  hundred  and  four 
persons;  though  often,  for  brevity's  sake,  they  are 
called  only  the  Hundred.  These,  according  to  Aris- 
totle, were  the  «ame  in  Carthage,  as  the  Kphori  in 
Sparta;  whence  it  appears,  that  they  were  instituted 
to  balance  the  power  of  the  nobles  and  senate;  but 
with  this  difference,  that  the  Fphori  were  but  five  in 
number,  and  continued  in  office  but  a  year;  whereas 
these  were  perpetual,  and  were  upwards  of  a  hundred. 
It  is  believed,  that  these  Centumviri 

A.  M.  3609.  are  the  same  with  the  hundred 
A.  Garth.  487.  judges  mentioned  by  Justin,*  who 
were  taken  out  of  the  senate,  and 
appointed  to  inquire  into  the  conduct  of  their  gene- 
rals. The  exorbitant  power  of  Mago's  family,  which 
by  its  engrossing  the  chief  employment!  both  of  the 
state  and  the  army,  had  thereby  tile  sole  direction  and 
management  of  all  affairs  gave  occasion  to  this  esta- 


blishment. It  was  intended  as  a  curb  to  the  authority 
of  their  generals,  which,  whilst  the  armies  were  in  the 
field,  was  almost  boundless  and  absolute;  but,  by  this 
institution,  it  became  subject  to  the  laws,  by  the  obli- 
gation their  generals  were  under,  of  giving  an  account 
ot  their  actions  before  these  judges  on  their  rilnrn 
from  the  campaign:  Ut  Itoc  mttu  ita  in  belto  imj.eria 
cogitarent,ut  domijudicia  legesqu^respicertnt.^  Of 
these  hundred  and  four  judges,  live  had  a  paiticular 
jurisdiction  superior  to  that  of  the  rest;  but  it  is  not 
known  how  long  their  authority  lasted.  This  council 
of  five  was  like  the  council  often  in  the  Venetian 
senate.  A  vacancy  in  their  number  could  be  tilled  by 
none  but  themselves.  They  also  had  the  power  of 
choosing  those  who  composed  the  council  of  the 
hundred.  Their  authority  was  very  great,  and  for 
that  reason  none  were  elected  into  this  office  but  per- 
sons of  uncommon  merit:  and  it  was  not  judged  pro- 
per to  annex  any  salary  or  reward  to  it;  the  single 
motive  of  the  public  good,  being  thought  a  tie  suffi- 
cient to  engage  honest  men  to  a  conscientious  and 
faithful  discharge  of  their  duty.  Pol)bius,6  in  his 
account  of  the  taking  of  JVew  Carthage  by  Scipio, 
distinguishes  clearly  two  orders  of  magistrates  estab- 
lished in  Old  Carthage;  for  he  says,  that  among  the 
prisoners  taken  at  J\ew  Carthage,  were  two  magis- 
trates belonging  to  the  body  or  assembly  of  old  men 
[IK  -riji  rtpovn's;]:  so  he  calls  the  council  of  the  hun- 
dred; and  fifteen  of  the  senate  [i«  -rijf  XuyxxfcTw]. 
Livy  7  mentions  only  the  fifteen  of  the  senators;  but, 
in  another  place,  he  names  the  eld  men;  and  tells  us, 
that  they  formed  the  most  venerable  council  of  the 
government,  and  had  great  authority  in  the  senate. 
8  Carlhaginmses — Oratores  ad  pacem  petendam  mit- 
tunt  triginta  senior um  principes.  Id  erat  sanctiut 
ap  ud  illos  concilium,  maximaque  ad  if  sum  senatum 
reg-endum  vis. 

Establishments,  though  constituted  with  the  great- 
est wisdom  and  the  justest  harmony  of  parts,  dege- 
nerate, however  insensibly,  into  disorder  and  the  most 
destructive  licentiousness.  These  judges,  who  by  the 
lawful  execution  of  their  power  were  a  terror  to 
transgressors,  and  the  great  pillars  of  justice,  abusing 
their  almost  unlimited  anthority,  became  so  many 
petty  tyrants.  We  shall  see  this  verified  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  great  Hannibal,  who,  during  his  praetor 
ship,  after  his  return  to  Africa,  em- 
ployed all  his  influence  to  reform  so  A.M.  3082. 
horrid  an  abuse;  and  made  the  au-  A.Carth.  682. 
thority  of  these  judges,  which  before 
was  perpetual,  only  annual,  about  two  hundred  yeart 
from  the  first  founding  the  tribunal  of  the  One  Hun- 
dred. 

Defects  in  the  Government  of  Carthage. 

Aristotle,  among  other  reflections  made  bv  him  on 
the  government  of  Carthage,  remarks  two  great  de- 
fects in  it,  both  which,  in  his  opinion,  are  repugnant 
to  the  views  of  a  wise  lawgiver  and  the  maxims  of 
sound  policy. 

The  first  of  these  defects  was,  the  investing  the 
same  person  with  different  employments,  which  was 
considered  at  Carthage  as  a  proof  of  uncommon 
merit.  But  Aristotle  thinks  this  practice  highly  pre- 
judicial to  the  public  welfare.  For,  says  this  author, 
a  man  possessed  but  of  one  employment,  is  much 
more  capable  of  acquitting  himself  well  in  the  exe- 
cution of  it;  because  allairs  are  then  examined  with 
greater  care,  and  sooner  despatched.  We  never  see, 
continues  our  author,  either  by  sea  or  land,  the  same 
officer  commanding  two  different  bodies,  or  the  same 


«  Ari=t.  loc.  rit. 
•  Polyb.  I   vi.  491. 
VOL.  i.-lU 


a  Lib.  xv.  p.  706,  707. 
«  Lib  xiz.  c.  ii. 


•  Justin  I.  xix.  «  Lib.  x.  p.  824.  edit.  Gronov. 
1  Lib.  xxvi    n.  51.  !.  ZXX.  n.  16. 

•  M.  Rollin  might  have  taken  notice  of  some  civil  officers 
who  were  established  at  Carthngp,  with  a  power  like  lliat  of 
the  r<'n-ur-  of  Rome,  to  ins|>oct  the  mrinners  of  th>'  riti/cns. 
The  chief  of  these  (.Hirers  took  from  Harnilcur.  the  father  ot 
llannilml.  a  beautiful  youth,  named   Asdrubal,  on  11   report 
that  Hamilcar  WHS  more  familiar  with   this  youth  limn  wa* 
consistent  willi  modesty.     F.rat  prrrlerea  CUM  to  \Jimilcart~* 
atlolescfns  it/tistrii>  et  formosus  Htifdrubal,  qvem  nonnvltl 
ililiifi  hirpius  qiiam  par  erat.  ab  Jimilcart,  la</nrl>a>ilur  — 
Qua  far  turn  est  ut  a  jmrfrrn  morun  Hasdrubal  i  um  ec  r<- 
laretur  c$i*.     Corn.  Nen   in  Vita  Amilnarii. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


pilot  steering  two  sh'ips.  Besides,  the  welfare  of  the 
•tatfi  requires  that  places  and  preferments  should  be 
divided,  in  order  to  excite  an  emulation  among  men  ol 
merit:  whereas  the  bestowing  of  them  on  one  man, 
too  often  dazzles  him  by  so  distinguishing  a  preference; 
and  always  fills  others'  with  jealousy,  discontent,  and 
murmurs. 

'  The  second  defect  taken  notice  of  by  Aristotle  in 
the  government  of  Carthage,  was,  that  in  order  for  a 
man  to  attain  the  first  posts,  a  certain  income  was 
required  (besides  merit  and  noble  birth).  By  which 
means,  poverty  might  exclude  persons  of  the  most 
exalted  merit,  which  he  considers  as  a  great  evil  in  a 
government.  For  then,  says  he,  as  virtue  is  wholly 
disregarded,  and  money  is  all-pawerful,  because  all 
things  are  attained  by  it  ;  the  admiration  and  desire 
of  riches  seize  and  corrupt  the  whole  community. 
Add  to  this,  that  when  magistrates  and  judges  are 
obliged  to  pay  large  sums  for  their  employments,  they 
it-cm  to  have  a  right  to  reimburse  themselves. 

There  is  not,  I  believe,  one  instance,  in  all  antiquity 
to  show  that  employments,  either  in  the  state  or  the 
courts  of  justice,  were  sold.  The  expense,  therefore, 
which  Aristotle  talks  of  here  to'raise  men  to  prefer- 
ments in  Carthage,  must  doubtless  be  understood  of 
the  presents  that  were  given  in  order  to  procure  the 
votes  of  the  electors;  a  practice,  as  Polybius  observes, 
very  common  at  Carthage,  where  m  kind  of  gain 
was  judged  a  disgrace.1  It  is,  therefore,  no  wonder, 
that  Aristotle  should  condemn  a  practice  whose  con- 
sequences, it  is  very  plain,  may  prove  fatal  to  a  gov- 
ernment. 

But  in  case  he  pretended  that  the  chief  employ- 
ments of  a  state  ought  to  be  equally  accessible  to  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  as  he  seems  to  insinuate;  his  opinion 
is  refuted  by  the  general  practice  of  the  wisest  repub- 
lics: for  these,  without  any  way  demeaning  or  aspers- 
ing poverty,  have  thought  that,  on  this  occasion,  the 
preference  ought  to  be  given  to  riches;  because  it  is  to 
be  presumed,  that  the  wealthy  have  received  a  better 
education,  have  nobler  sentiments,  are  more  out  of  the 
reach  of  corruption,  and  less  liable  to  commit  base 
actions;  and  that  even  the  state  of  their  affairs  makes 
them  more  affectionate  to  the  government,  more  dis- 
posed to  maintain  peace  and  order  in  it,  and  more 
interested  in  suppressing  whatever  may  tend  to  sedi- 
tion and  rebellion. 

Aristotle,  in  concluding  hii  reflections  on  the  repub- 
lic of  Carthage,  \s  much  pleased  with  a  custom  that 
prevailed  there:  viz.  of  sending  from  time  to  time 
colonies  into  different  countries;  and  in  this  manner 
procuring  its  citizens  commodious  settlements.  This 
provided  for  the  necessities  of  the  poor,  who,  equally 
with  the  rich,  are  members  of  the  state;  and  it  dis- 
burdened Carthage  of  multitudes  of  lazy,  indolent 
people,  who  were  its  disgrace,  and  often  proved 
dangerous  to  it;  it  prevented  commotions  and  insur- 
rections, by  thus  removing  such  persons  as  commonly 
occasion  them;  and  who,  being  ever  discontented 
under  their  present  circumstances,  are  always  ready 
foi  mi  ovations  and  tumults. 

SECTION    IV. — TRADE  OF  CARTHAGE,  THE  FIRST 
SOURCE  OF  ITS  WEALTH  AJSD  POWER. 

COMMERCE,  strictly  speaking,  was  the  occupation 
of  Carthage,  the  particular  object  of  its  industry,  and 
its  peculiar  ai;d  predominant  characteristic.  It  formed 
the  greatest  strength  and  the  chief  support  of  that 
commonwealth.  In  a  word,  we  may  aflmn,  that  the 
power,  the  conquests,  the  credit,  and  glory,  of  the 
Carthaginians,  all  flowed  from  their  commerce.  Situa- 
ted in  the  centre  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  stretching 
out  their  arms  eastward  ami  westward,  the  extent  of 
their  commerce  took  in  all  the  known  worl  I,  and 
waft<-d  it  to  the  coast  of  Spain,  of  Mauritania,  of 
Haul,  an-l  beyond  the  straits  and  pillars  of  Hercules. 
They  sailed  to  all  countries,  in  order  to  buy  at  a  cheap 
rate'the  superfluities  of  every  nation  ;  wfiich,  by  the 
wants  of  others,  became  necessaries  ;  and  these  they 
loll  to  them  at  the  dearest  rates.  From  Egypt  the 


•-Ves.— Poly.  I   Ti   jx  487 


Carthaginians  fetched  fine  flax,  paper,  corn,  sails,  and 
cables  tor  ships  ;  from  the  coast  of  the  Red  Sea,  spices 
frankincense,  pertumts,  golJ,  pearl?,  and  prf.ioui 
stones  ;  from  Tyre  and  Pnocnicia,  purple  anu  scarlet, 
rich  stall's,  tapestry,  costly  furniture,  and  divers  cu- 
rious and  exquisite  works  of  art  :  in  a  ward,  they 
fetched  from  various  countries,  all  things  that  can 
supply  the  necessities,  or  are  capable  of  contributing 
to  the  convenience,  the  luxury,  nnd  the  delights  ot 
life.  They  brought  back  from  the  western  parts  of 
the  world,  in  return  for  the  articles  carried  thither, 
iron,  tin,  lead,  and  copper  ;  by  the  sale  of  these  va- 
rious commodities,  they  enriched  themselves  at  the 
expense  of  all  nations  ;  and  put  them  under  a  kind  of 
contribution,  which  was  so  much  the  surer  as  it  was 
spontaneous. 

In  thus  becoming  the  factors  and  agents  of  all 
nations,  they  had  made  themselves  lords  of  the  sea  ; 
the  band  which  held  the  east,  the  west,  and  south 
together  ;  and  the  necessary  channel  of  their  commu- 
nication ;  so  that  Carthage  rose  to  be  the  common 
city,  and  the  centre  of  the  trade,  of  all  those  nation* 
which  the  sea  separated  from  one  another. 

The  most  considerable  personages  of  the  city  were 
not  ashamed  of  engaging  in  trade.  They  applied 
themselves  to  it  as  industriously  as  the  meanest  citi- 
zens ;  and  their  great  wealth  did  not  make  them  les» 
in  love  with  the  diligence,  patience,  and  labour,  which 
are  necessary  to  augment  it.  To  this  they  owed  their 
empire  of  the  sea,  the  splendour  of  their  republic  ; 
their  being  able  to  dispute  for  the  superiorly  with 
Rome  itself;  and  their  exalted  pitch  of  power,  which 
forced  the  Romans  to  carry  on  a  blood}*  and  doubtful 
war,  for  upwards  of  forty  years,  in  order  to  humble 
and  subdue  this  haughty  rival.  In  short,  Rome,  even 
when  triumphant,  thought  Carthage  was  not  to  be 
entirely  reduced  any  other  way,  than  by  depriving 
that  city  of  the  resources  which  it  might  still  derive 
from  its  commerce,  by  which  it  had  so  long  been 
enabled  to  resist  the  whole  strength  of  that  mighty 
republic. 

However,  it  is  no  wonder  that,  as  Carthage  came 
in  a  manner  out  of  the  greatest  school  of  tratlic  in  the 
world,  I  mean  Tyre,  she  should  have  been  crowned 
with  srtich  rapid  and  uninterrupted  success.  The  very 
vessels  on  wnich  its  founders  had  been  conveyed  into 
Africa,  were  afterwards  employed  by  them  in  their 
trade.  They  began  to  make  settlements  upon  the 
coasts  of  Spain,  in  those  ports  where  they  unloaded 
their  goods.  The  ease  with  which  they  had  founded 
these  settlements,  and  the  conveniences  they  met 
with  inspired  them  with  the  design  of  conquering 
those  vast  regions  ;  and  some  time  after,  JVbi'«  Cor- 
thago,  or  New  Carthage,  gave  the  Carthaginians  an 
empire  in  that  country,  almost  equal  to  that  which 
they  enjoyed  in  Africa. 

SECTION  V. — THE  MINES  OF  SPAIN,  THE  SECOND 
SOURCE  OF  THE  RICHES  AND  POWER  OF  CAR- 
THAGE. 

DIODORUS*  justly  remarks,  that  the  gold  and  silver 
mines  found  by  the  Carthaginians  in  Spain,  were  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  wealth,  that  enabled  them  to 
sustain  such  long  wars  against  the  Romans.  The 
natives  had  long  been  ignorant  of  these  treasures  that 
lay  concealed  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  or  at  least  of 
their  use  and  value.  The  Phienicians  took  advantage 
of  this  ignorance  ;  and  by  bartering  some  wares  of 
little  value  for  this  precious  metal,  they  amassed 
infinite  wealth.  When  the  Carthaginians'had  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  country,  they  dug  much 
deeper  into  the  earth  than  the  old  inhabitants  of  Spain 
had  done,  who  probablv  were  content  with  what  they 
could  collect  on  the  surface  ;  and  the  Romans,  when 
they  had  dispossessed  the  Carthaginians  of  Spain,  pro- 
fited bv  their  example,  and  drew  an  immense  revenue 
from  these  mines  of  gold  and  silver. 

The  labour  employed  to  come  at  these  mines,  and 
to  dig  the  gold  and  silver  out  of  them,  was  incredi 
ble.*  For  the  veins  of  these  metals  rarelv  appeared 
on  the  surface  ;  they  were  to  be  sought  for  ana 
traced  through  frightful  depths,  where  very  oftep 


•  Lib.  IT.  p  312,  &.C.. 


•  Diod.  I.  rv.  p.  312,  &c. 


HIS10RY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


75 


floods  of  water  stopped  the  miners,  and  seemed  to 
defeat  all  future  pursuits.  But  avarice  is  no  less  pa- 
tient ia  undergoing  fatigues,  than  ingenious  in  find- 
ing expedients.  By  pumps,  which  Archimedes  had 
invented  when  in  Egypt,  the  Romans  afterwards 
thrtiv  up  the  water  out  of  these  pits,  and  quite  drain- 
ed them.  Numberless  multitudes  of  slaves  perished 
in  these  mines,  which  were  dug  to  enrich  their  mas- 
ters ;  who  treated  them  with  the  utmost  barbarity, 
forced  them  by  heavy  stripes  to  labour,  and  gave 
them  no  respite  either  day  or  night. 

Polvbius,  as  quoted  by  Strabo,1  says  that  in  his 
time,  upwards  of  forty  thousand  men  were  emploved 
la  the  mines  near  .A'oi'a  Carthago  ;  and  furnished 
the  Romans  every  day  with  twenty-five  thousand 
drachmas,  or  859/.  7*.  6cf.2 

We  must  not  be  surprised  to  see  the  Carthagi- 
nians, soon  alter  the  greatest  defeats,  sending  fresh 
and  numerous  armies  again  into  the  field  ;  fitting  out 
mighty  fleets  and  supporting,  at  a  great  expense,  for 
many  years,  wars  carried  on  by  them  in  tar-distant 
rountnes.  But  it  must  appear  surprising  to  us,  that 
the  Rouians  should  be  capable  of  doing  the  same  ; 
they  whose  revenues  were  very  inconsiderable  before 
those  great  conquests  which  subjected  to  them  the 
most  powerful  nations  ;  and  who  had  no  resources, 
either  from  trade,  to  which  they  Were  absolute 
Strangers,  or  from  gold  or  silver  mines,  which  were 
very  rarely  found  in  Italv,  in  case  there  were  any  ; 
and  the  expenses  of  which  must,  for  that  very  rea- 
son, have  swallowed  up  all  the  profit.  The  Romans, 
in  the  frugal  and  simple  life  they  led,  in  their  zeal 
for  the  public  welfare*,  and  their  love  for  their  coun- 
try, possessed  funds  which  were  not  legs  ready  or 
secure  than  those  of  Carthage,  but  at  the  same  time 
were  far  more  honourable  to  their  nation. 

SECTION  VI.— WAR. 

CARTHAGE  must  be  considered  as  a  trading,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  a  warlike  republic.  Its  genius  and 
the  nature  of  its  government  led  it  to  traffic  ;  and  it 
became  warlike,  first,  from  the  necessity  the  Car- 
thaginians were  under  of  defending  themselves 
against  the  neighbouring  nations,  and  afterwards 
from  a  desire  of  extending  their  commerce  and  em- 
pire. This  double  idea  gives  us,  in  my  opinion,  the 
true  plan  and  character  of  the  Carthaginian  republic. 
We  have  already  spoken  of  its  commerce. 

The  military  power  of  the  Carthaginians  consisted 
in  their  alliances  with  kings  ;  in  tributary  nations, 
from  which  they  drew  both  men  and  money  ;  in  some 
troops  raised  from  among  their  own  citizens  ;  and  in 
mercenary  soldiers  purchased  of  neighbouring  states, 
without  being  themselves  obliged  to  levy  or  exercise 
them,  because  they  were  already  well  disciplined  and 
inured  to  the  fatigues  of  war  ;  thev  making  choice, 
in  every  country,  of  such  troops  as  had  the  greatest 
merit  and  reputation.  Thev  drew  from  Numidia  a 
light,  bold,  impetuous,  and  indefatigable  cavalry, 
Which  formed  the  principal  strength  of  their  armies*  ; 
from  the  Balearic  isles,  the  most  expert  slingers  in  the 
world  ;  from  Spain,  a  steady  and  invincible  infantry  ; 
from  the  coasts  of  Genoa'and  Gaul,  troops  of  ac- 
knowledged valour  ;  and  from  Greece  itself,  soldiers 
fit  for  all  the  various  operations  of  war,  for  the  field 
or  the  garrisons,  for  besieging  or  defending  cities. 

In  this  manner  the  Carthaginians  sent  out  at  once 
powerful  armies,  composed  of  soldiers  which  were 
the  flower  of  all  the  armies  in  the  universe,  without 
depopulating  either  their  fields  or  cities  by  new  le- 
vin ;  without  suspending  their  manufactures,  or  dis- 
turbing the  peaceable  artificer  ;  without  interrupting 
their  commerce,  or  weakening  their  navy.  By  venal 
blood  they  possessed  themselves  of  provinces  and 
kingdoms  :  and  made  other  nations  the  instruments 
of  their  grandeur  and  glory,  with  no  other  expense 
of  their  own  than  their  money  ;  and  even  this  fur- 
nished from  the  traffic  they  carried  on  with  foreign 
nations. 

i  Lib.  iii.  p.  147. 

•  i>.IHM)  draolimrn. — An  Attic  drachma,  nrcordins  to  Dr. 
Bernard,  —  H^d.  English  money;  consequently,  25,000=- 
859/  7*.  Cd. 


If  the  Carthaginians,  in  the  course  of  a  war,  sus- 
tained some  losses,  these  were  but  so  many  foreiga 
accidents,  which  only  grazed,  as  it  were,  over  the 
body  of  the  state,  but  did  not  make,  a  deep  wound  in 
the  bowels  or  htart  of  the  republic.  These  losses 
were  speedily  repaired,  by  sums  arising  out  of  a 
flourishing  commerce,  as  from  a  perpetual  sinew  of 
war,  by  which  the  government  was  continually  rein- 
forced with  new  supplies  for  the  purchase  of  mer- 
cenary forces,  who  were  ready  at  tiie  first  summon*. 
And  "from  the  vast  extent  of  the  coasts  which  the 
Carthaginians  possessed,  it  was  easy  for  them  to  levy, 
in  a  very  little  time,  a  sufficient  number  of  sailors 
and  rowers  for  the  working  of  their  fleets,  and  to 
procure  able  pilots  and  experienced  captains  to  con- 
duct them. 

But  as  these  parts  were  fortuitously  brought  to- 
gether, they  did  not  adhere  by  any  natural,  intimate, 
or  necessary  tie,  No  common  and  reciprocal  inter- 
est united  them  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  form  a  solid 
and  unalterable  body.  Not  one  individual  in  these 
mercenary  armies  was  sincerely  iutf  rested  in  the 
success  of  measures,  or  in  the  prosperity  of  the  state. 
They  did  not  act  with  the  same  zeal,  nor  expose 
themselves  to  dangers  with  equal  resolution,  for  a 
republic  which  they  considered  as  foreign,  and  which 
consequently  was  indifferent  to  them,  as  they  would 
have  done  for  their  native  country,  whose  happiness 
constitutes  that  of  the  several  members  who  com- 
pose it. 

In  great  reverses  of  fortune,  the  kings3  in  alliance 
with  the  Carthaginians  might  easily  be  detached 
from  their  interest,  either  by  that  jealousy  which  the 
grandeur  of  a  more  powerful  neighbour  naturally  ex- 
cites ;  or  by  the  hopes  of  reaping  greater  advantages 
from  a  new  friend  ;  or  by  the  fear  of  being  involved 
in  the  misfortunes  of  an  old  ally. 

The  tributary  nations,  impatient  under  the  weight 
and  disgrace  of  a  yoke  which  had  been  forced  upon 
their  necks,  generally  flattered  themselves  with  the 
hopes  of  finding  one  less  galling  in  changing  their 
masters  ;  or,  in  case  servitude  was  unavoidable,  the 
choice  was  indifferent  to  them,  as  will  appear  from 
manv  instances  in  the  course  of  this  history. 

The  mercenary  forces,  accustomed  to  measure 
their  fidelity  by  the  largeness  or  continuance  of  their 
pay,  were  ever  ready,  on  the  least  discontent,  or  the 
slightest  expectation  of  a  more  considerable  stipend 
to  desert  to  the  enemy  with  whom  they  had  just  be- 
fore fought,  and  to  turn  their  arms  against  those  who 
had  invited  them  to  their  assistance. 

Thus  the  grandeur  of  the  Carthaginians  being  sus- 
tained only  by  these  foreign  supports,  was  shaken  to 
the  very  foundation  when  they  were  once  taken 
away.  And  if  to  this  there  happened  to  be  added  an 
interruption  of  their  commerce  (which  was  their  sole 
resource),  arising  from  the  loss  of  a  naval  engage- 
ment, they  imagined  themselves  to  be  on  the  brink 
of  ruin,  and  abandoned  themselves  to  despondency 
and  despair  ;  as  was  evidently  seen  at  the  end  of  the 
first  Punic  war. 

Aristotle,  in  the  treatises  where  he  shows  the  ad- 
vantages and  defects  of  the  government  of  Carthage, 
finds  no  fault  with  its  keeping  up  none  but  fo^ign 
forces  ;  it  is  therefore  probable,  that  the  Carthagi- 
nians did  not  fall  into  this  practice  till  a  long  time 
after.  But  the  rebellions  which  harassed  Carthage 
in  its  later  years,  ought  to  have  taught  its  citizens, 
that  no  miseries  art -omparable  to  those  of  a  govern 
ment  which  is  supported  only  by  foreigners  ;  since 
neither  zeal,  security,  nor  obedience,  can  be  expect- 
ed from  them. 

But  this  was  not  the  case  with  the  republic  of 
Rome.  As  the  Romans  had  neither  trade  nor  money, 
they  were  not  able  to  hire  forces,  in  order  to  push  on 
their  conquests  with  the  same  rapidity  as  the  Car- 
thaginians :  but  then,  as  they  procured  every  thing 
from  within  thrmselvf  s,  and  "as  all  the  parts  of  the 
state  were  intimately  united  ;  they  had  surer  resour- 
ces in  great  misfortunes  than  the  Carthaginians. 
And  for  this  reason  they  never  once  thought  of  no- 


*  Ai  Syphax  and  Masmiua. 


76 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


I  Jg  for  peace  after  tne  battle  of  Cannne,  as  the  Car- 
thaginians had  do!>e  in  a  less  imminent  danger. 

The  Carthaginians,  had,  besides,  a  body  of  troops 
(which  was  not  very  numerous)  levied  from  among 
their  own  citizens  ;  and  this  was  a  kind  of  school,  in 
which  the  flower  of  their  nobility,  and  those  whose 
talents  airl  ambition  prompted  them  to  aspire  to  the 
first  dignities,  learned  the  rudiments  of  the  art  of 
war.  From  among  these  were  selected  all  the  gener- 
al officers,  who  were  put  at  the  head  of  the  differ- 
ent bodies  of  their  forces,  and  had  the  chief  command 
in  the  armies.  This  nation  was  too  jealous  and  sus- 
picious to  employ  foreign  generals.  But  they  were 
not  so  distrustful  of  their  own  citizens  as  Rome  and 
Athens  ;  for  the  Carthaginians,  at  the  same  time  that 
they  invested  them  with  great  power,  did  not  guard 
against  the  abuse  they  might  .nake  of  it  in  order  to 
oppress  their  country.  The  command  of  armies  was 
neither  annual,  nor  limited  to  any  time,  as  in  the  two 
republics  above-mentioned.  IVlany  generals  held 
their  commissions  for  a  great  number  of  years,  either 
till  the  war  or  their  lives  ended  ;  though  they  were 
•till  accountable  to  the  commonwealth  for  their  con- 
duct ;  and  liable  to  be  recalled,  whenever  a  real  fault, 
a  misfortune,  or  the  superior  interest  of  a  cabal,  fur- 
niihed  an  opportunity  for  it. 

SECTION  VII.— ARTS  AND  SCIENCES. 

IT  cannot  be  said  that  the  Carthaginians  renounced 
entirely  the  glory  which  results  from  study  and 
knowledge.  The  sending  of  Masinissa,  son  of  a 
powerful  king,1  thither  for  education,  gives  us  room 
to  believe  that  Carthage  was  provided  with  an  excel- 
lent school.  The  gieat  Hannibal,2  who,  in  all  re- 
spects, was  an  ornament  to  that  city,  was  not  unac- 
quainted with  polite  literature,  as  will  be  seen  here- 
after. Mago,3  another  very  celebrated  general,  did 
as  much  honour  to  Carthage  by  his  pen  as  by  his  vic- 
tories. He  wrote  twenty-eight  volumes  upon  hus- 
bandry, which  the  Roman  senate  had  in  such  esteem, 
that  after  the  taking  of  Carthage,  when  they  present- 
ed the  Africian  princes  with  the  libraries  found  there 
(another  proof  that  learning  was  not  entirely  banish- 
ed from  Carthage,)  they  gave  orders  to  have  these 
books  translated  into  Latin,4  though  Cato  had  before 
written  his  books  on  that  subject.  There  is  still  ex- 
tant5 a  Greek  version  of  a  treatise  drawn  up  by 
Hanno  in  the  Punic  tongue,  relating  to  a  voyage  he 
made  (by  order  of  the  senate)  with  a  considerable 
fleet  round  Africa,  for  the  settling  of  different  colo- 
nies in  that  part  of  the  world.  This  Hanno  is  be- 
lieved to  be  more  ancient  than  that  person  of  the 
tame  name,  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Agathocles. 

Clitomachus,6  called  in  the  Punic  language  As^ru- 
bal,  was  a  great  philosopher.  He  succeeded  the 
famous  Carneades,  whose  disciple  he  had  been  ;  and 
maintained  in  Athens  the  honour  of  the  Academic 
sect.  Cicero  says,7  that  he  was  a  more  sensible 
man,  and  fonder  of  study,  than  the  Carthaginians 
generally  are.  He  wrote  several  books  :8  in  one  of 
which  he  composed  a  piece  to  console  the  unhappy 
citizens  of  Carthage,  who,  by  the  ruin  of  their  city, 
were  reduced  to  slavery. 

I  nii<cht  rank  among, "or  rather  place  at  the  head  of, 
the  writers  who  have  adorned  Africa,  the  celebrated 
Terence  ;  himself  singly  being  capable  of  reflecting 
infinite  honour  on  his  country  by  the  fame  of  his  pro- 
ductions, if,  on  this  account,  Carthage,  the  place  of 
his  birt'i,  ought  not  to  be  less  considered  as  his  coun- 
try than  Rome,  where  he  was  educated,  and  acquired 
that  purity  of  style,  that  delicacy  and  elegance,  which 
have  gained  him  the  admiration  of  all  succeeding 


t  Kinir  of  the  Massyliiins  m  A.'rira. 

'  N.'pod  in  vita  Annikilis. 

»  Cir,.  I.  i.  Do  oral.  n.  24  I.     Plin.  1.  xviii.  c.  3. 

4  These  hiH)kK  were  written  bv  IVTajo  in  the  Punic  Ian- 


ages.  It  is  supposed,9  that  he  was  carried  ofl  when 
an  infant,  or  at  least  very  young,  by  the  Numidiani 
in  their  incursions  into  the  Carthaginian  territories, 
during  the  war  carried  on  between  these  two  nations, 
from  the  conclusion  of  the  second,  to  the  beginning 
of  the  third,  Punic  war.  He  was  sold  for  a  slave  to 
Terentius  Lucanus,  a  Roman  senator  ;  who,  after 
giving  him  an  excellent  education,  gave  him  his  li- 
berty and  called  him  by  his  own  name,  as  was  then 
the  custom.  He  was  united  in  a  very  strict  friend- 
ship with  the  second  Scipio  Africanus,  and  La^lius  ; 
and  it  was  a  common  report  at  Rome,  that  he  had 
the  assistance  of  these  two  great  men  in  composing 
his  pieces.  The  poet,  so  far  from  endeavouring  to 
stifle  a  report  so  disadvantageous  to  him,  made  I 
merit  of  it.  Only  six  of  his  comedies  are  extant 
Some  authors,  on  the  authority  of  Suetonius  (tht 
writer  of  his  life),  say,  that  in  his  return  from  Greece, 
whither  he  had  made  a  voyage,  he  'ost  a  hundred 
and  eight  comedies,  which  he  had  translated  from 
Menander,  and  could  not  survive  an  accident  which 
must  naturally  afflict  him  in  a  sensible  manner  :  but 
this- incident  is  not  very  well  founded.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  he  died  in  the  year  of  Rome  594,  under  the 
consulship  of  Cneius  Cornelius  Dolabella  and  M. 
Fulvius,  at  the  age  of  thirty-five  years,  and  conse- 
quently he  was  born  anno  560. 

It  must  yet  be  confessed,  notwithstanding  all  we 
have  said,  that  there  ever  was  a  great  scarcity  of 
learned  men  in  Carthage,  since  it  hardly  furnished 
three  or  four  writers  of  reputation  in  upwards  of  se- 
vett  hundred  years.  Although  the  Carthaginians  held 
a  Correspondence  with  Greece  and  the  most  civilized 
nations,  yet  this  did  not  excite  them  to  borrow  their 
learning,  as  being  foreign  to  their  views  of  trade  and 
commerce.  Eloquence,  poetry,  history,  seem  to  have 
been  little  known  among  them.  A  Carthaginian 
philosopher  was  considered  as  a  sort  of  prodigy  by 
the  learned.  What  then  would  an  astronomer  or  a 
geometrician  have  been  thought '?  I  know  not  in  what 
esteem  physic,  which  is  so  highly  useful  to  life,  was 
held  at  Carthage  ;  or  jurisprudence,  so  necessary  to 
society. 

As  works  of  wit  were  generally  had  in  so  much 
disregard,  the  education  of  youth  must  necessarily 
have  been  very  imperfect  and  unpolished.  In  Car- 
thage, the  study  and  knowledge  of  youth  were  for 
the  most  part  confined  to  writing,  arithmetic,  book- 
keeping, and  the  buying  and  selling  goods  ;  in  a 
word,  to  whatever  related  to  traffic.  But  polite  learn- 
ing, history  and  philosophy,  were  in  little,  repute 
among  them.  These  were  in  later  years  even  pro 
hibited  by  the  laws,  which  expressly  forbade  any 
Carthaginian  to  learn  the  Greek  tongue,  lest  it  might 
qualify  them  for  carrying  on  a  dangerous  correspond- 
ence with  the  enemy,  either  by  letter  or  word  of 
mouth. 10 

Now  what  could  be  expected  from  such  a  cast  of 
mind  1  Accordingly  there  was  never  seen  among 
them  that  elegance  of  behaviour,  that  ease  and  com- 
placency of  manners,  and  those  sentiments  of  virtue 
which  are  generally  the  fruits  of  a  liberal  education 
in  all  civilized  nations.  The  small  number  of  great 
men  which  this  nation  has  produced,  must  therefore 
have  owed  their  merit  to  the  felicity  of  theirgenius,to 
the  singularity  of  their  talents,  and  a  long  experience 
without  any  great  assistance  from  cultivation  and  in- 
struction. Hence  it  was,  that  the  merit  of  the  great- 
est men  of  Carthage  was  sullied  by  great  failings, 
low  vices,  and  cruel  passions  ;  and  it  is  rare  to  meet 
with  any  conspicuous  virtue  among  them  without 
some  blemish  ;  with  any  virtue  of  a  noble,  generous, 


•  Suet,  in  vit.  Terent. 

">  Kactum  senxtus  consuhum  ne  quis  postea  Carthngin- 
isis  aut  literis  Gra?cis  aut  serrnoni  studerot  ;  ne  aut  loqnl 
rua<re,  and  translated  into  Greek  by  Caseins  Dionysius  of  j  cum  hoste.  aut  se.ribere  sine  interprete  |K>5«>t.     ./nstin.  1, 
t'tirn,  from  whose  version,  we  may  probably  suppose,  the  I  xx.  r.  5.     Justin  ascribes  the  reason  of  llii*  law  to  a  trea- 

1  Bonable  corres|>ondf'nce  between  one  Sunia'ns,  a  powerful 
Carthaginian,  and  Dionysius  the  Tyran'  of  Sicily  ;  t lie  for- 
mer, bv  letters  written  in  Greek  (whiel.  afterwards  fell  int« 
the  hands  of  the  Carthaginians),  hbu.it;  'nfi.rmed  the  ty 


Latin  wns  made. 

»  Vo«».  de  Hist.  Gr.  1.  iv. 

«  Pint.  «le  fort.  Alex.  p.  :!28.     Dioj.  Laert.  in  Clitom. 

*  ("litomachuK,  homo,  et  arutus  ut  Po?nus.  et  valet"  studi- 
o.«us  ar  dili^ens.     Acnilem.  Quaxt.  I.  iv.  n.  98. 
Tusr  Uucr'st   ..  iii   n.  54. 


. 

rant  of  the  war  designed  iifrainst  bin   jy  his  rouii'rj    ou>  of 
I  hatred  to  Ilanno  the  general,  to  who  4  he  was  an  eurtmf. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


77 


tuid  amiuble  kind,  and  supported  by  enlightened  and 
steady  principles,  such  as  is  every  where  found  among 
the  Greeks  and  Romans.  The  reader  will  perceive 
fhat  I  here  speak  only  of  the  heathen  virtues,  and 
agreeably  to  the  idea  which  the  Pagans  entertained 
Of  them. 

I  meet  with  as  few  monuments  of  their  skill  in 
arts  of  a  less  noble  and  necessary  kind,  as  painting 
and  sculpture.  I  find,  indeed,  that  they  had  plun- 
dered their  conquered  nations  of  a  great  many  works 
in  both  these  kinds  ;  but  it  does  not  appear  that  they 
themselves  had  produced  many. 

From  what  has  been  said,  one  cannot  help  conclud- 
ing, that  traffic  was  the  predominant  inclination,  and 
the  peculiar  chararterstic  of  the  Carthaginians;  that 
It  formed  in  a  manner,  the  basis  of  the  state,  the 
eoul  of  the  commonwealth,  and  the  grand  spring 
which  gave  motion  to  all  their  enterprises.  The 
Carthaginians,  in  general,  were  skilful  merchants; 
employed  wholly  in  traffic;  excited  strongly  by  the 
desire  of  gain,  and  esteeming  nothing  but  rfcheg; 
directing  all  their  talents,  and  placing  their  chief 
glory,  in  amnssing  them;  though  at  the  same  time 
they  scarce  knew  the  purpose  for  which  they  were 
designed,  or  how  to  use  them  in  a  noble  or  worthy 
manner. 

SECTION  VIII. — THE  CHARACTER,  MANNERS,  AND 
QUALITIES  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 

Tn  the  enumeration  of  the  various  qualities  which 
Cicero1  assigns  to  different  nations,  as  their  dis- 
tinguishing characteristics,  he  declares  that  of  the 
Carthaginians  to  be  craft,  skill,  address,  industry, 
cunning,  calliditas;  which  doubtless  appeared  in  war, 
but  was  still  more  conspicuous  in  the  rest  of  iheir 
Conduct,  and  this  was  joined  to  another  quality  thbt 
bears  a  very  near  relation  to  it,  and  is  still  It  >s  re- 
putable. Craft  and  cunning  lead  naturally  to  lying, 
duplicity  and  breach  of  faith;  and  these,"  by  accus- 
toming the  mind  insensibly  to  be  less  scrupulous  with 
regard  to  the  choice  of  the  means  for  compassing  its 
designs,  prepare  it  for  the  basest  frauds  and  the  most 
perfidious  actions.  This  was  also  one  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  Carthaginians;'2  and  it  was  so  noto- 
rious, that  to  signify  any  remarkable  dishonesty  it  was 
usual  to  call  \t~Pimic  faith,  Jides  Pimica;  and  to  de- 
note a  fcn/iriiA,  deceijul disposition,  no  expression  was 
thought  more  proper  and  emphatical  than  thi.«,  a 
Carthaginian  disposition,  Pvnictim  ingeniiim. 

An  excessive  thirst  for  amassing  wealth,  and  an 
inordinate  love  of  gain,  generally  gave  occasion  in 
Carthage  to  the  committing  base  and  unjust  actions. 
One  single  example  will  prove  this.  During  a  truce, 
granted  by  Scipio  to  the  e'arnest  entreaties  of  the 
Carthaginians,  some  Roman  vessels,  bring  driven  by 
a  storm  on  the  coasts  of  Cartilage,  were  seized  by 
order  of  the  senate  and  people,3  who  could  not  suffe'r 
so  tempting  a  prey  to  escape  them.  They  were  re- 
solved to  get  money,  though  the  manner  o'f  acquiring 
it  were  ever  so  scandalous.  The  inhabitants  of  Car- 
thage, even  in  St.  Austin's  time  (as  that  Father  in- 
forms us\  showed,  on  a  particular  occasion,  that  they 
*till  retained  part  of  this  characteristic.* 

But  these  were  not  the  only  blemishes  and  faults 


1  (loam  volutnn*  licet  ipsi  no*  amrmus.  tamen  nee  nurnp- 
O  Hispanos,  m  c  rol^rp  Gallos.  nee  callidilate  Po?nos,  &c.  «ed 
•letalc  ac  reli»ione.  &c.  omnes  gentes  nationesque  superav- 
wnus  De  Jiru.*p.  Re.*p.  n.  19. 

•  Carlharinenses  fraudulent!   et  mendaces — multiset  va- 
ns imrratorum  advenarumque  sermonihus  ad  sludium  fal- 

ndi  qu.Tsius  cupidiiate  voeabainur.  Cie.orat.  ii.  in  Rail. 
:  94. 

*  M:i;istralus  °enatum  vocare.  popuius  in  curi*  Testibu- 
1      fremere.    ne    tanta   ej   oculiB   manibu^que    amitteretnr 
{.rda.     Con«-n>iim  est  ut.  &c.  Lir.  I.  xxx.  n.  iJ4. 

4  A  moiinu-bank  hsd  promised  the  citizens  of  Carthage 
to  discover  to  them  their  mn."t  secret  thoughts,  in  case  they 
would  come,  on  a  day  appointed,  to  hear  him.  Being  all 
met,  he  u>M  them.  the\  were  desirous  to  buy  cheap  and 
tell  dear.  Evry  man's  conscience  pleaded  guilty  to  the 
charge;  and  the  mountebank  was  dismissed  with  applause 
and  Iniii-liler.  Vili  rv//i>  cmere,  et  care  revdfre;  in  <j*9 
ditto  Irrissimi  fcenici  omnts  lamen  conxrientiag  inrenemnt 
tut*,  riijiie  rrra  et  lamen  improrift  direnti  admirabilifa- 
•V4  r-auserunt.  S.  August.  I.  xiii.  de  Trinit.  c.  3. 


of  the  Carthaginians.5  They  had  sor.iething  austere 
and  savage  in  their  disposition  and  genius,  a  haughty 
and  imperious  air,  a  sort  of  ferocity,  which  in  ihe 
first  transports  of  passion,  was  dtad  to  both  reason 
and  remonstrances,  and  plunged  brutallv  into  the  ut- 
most excesses  of  violence.  The  people,  cowardly 
and  grovelling  under  apprehensions,  were  proud  and 
cruel  in  their  transports:  at  the  same  time  that  they 
trembled  under  their  magistrate s,  they  were  dreaded 
in  their  turn  by  their  ni::»n»ble  vassals.  In  this  we 
see  the  difference  which  education  makes  between 
one  nation  and  another.  The  Athenians,  w  hose  city 
was  always  considered  as  the  centre  of  learning 
were  naturally  jealous  of  thtir  authority  ,  and  difficult 
to  govern;  but  still,  a  fund  of  good  nature  and  hu 
nianity  made  them  compassionate  the  misfortunes  ot 
others,  and  be  indulgent  to  the  errors  of  their  leaders 
CKon  one  day  desired  the  assembly,  in  which  he  pre- 
sided, to  break  up.  because,  as  he  told  them,  he  had 
a  sacrifice  to  offer,  and  friends  to  entertain.  The 
people  only  laughed  at  the  request,  and  immediately 
separated.  Such  a  liberty,  says  Plutarch,  at  Car- 
thage, would  have  cost  a  man  his  life. 

Livy6  makes  a  like  reflection  with  regard  to  Te- 
rentius  Varro.  That  general,  on  his  return  to  Rome 
after  the  battle  of  Cannae,  which  had  been  lost  by  his 
ill  conduct,  was  met  by  persons  of  all  orders  of  the 
state,  at  some  distance  from  Rome;  and  thanked  by 
them,  for  his  not  having  despaired  of  the  common- 
wealth; who,  says  the  historian,  had  he  been  a  ge- 
neral of  the  Carthaginians  must  have  expected  the 
most  severe  punishment:  Cm,  si  Cartliasinensiiim 
ductorfuisset,  nihil  recvsandum  svppliciiforet.  In- 
deed, a  court  was  established  at  Carthage,  where  the 
generals  were  obliged  to  give  an  account  of  their 
conduct;  and  they  all  were  made  responsible  for  the 
events  of  the  war.  Ill  success  was  punished  there 
as  a  crime  against  the  state;  and  whenever  a  general 
lost  a  battle,  he  was  almost  sure,  at  his  return,  of 
ending  his  life  upon  a  gibbet.  Such  was  the  furious, 
cruel,  and  barbarous  disposition  of  the  Carthaginians 
who  were  always  ready  to  shed  the  blood  of  their 
citizens  as  well  as  of  foreigners.  The  unheard-of 
tortures  which  they  made  Regulus  suffer  are  a  man- 
ifest proof  of  this  assertion;  and  their  history  will 
furnish  us  with  such  instances  of  it,  as  are  not  to  he 
read  without  horror. 


PART  II. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 
The  interval  of  time  between  the  foundation  of 
Carthage  and  its  ruin,  included  seven  hundred  years 
and  may  be  divided  into  two  parts.  The  first,  which 
is  much  the  longest  and  the  least  known  (as  is  or- 
dinary with  the  beginnings  of  all  states),  extends  to 
the  first  Punic  war,  and  takes  up  five  hundred  and 
eighty-two  years.  The  second,  which  ends  at  the 
instruction  o^j  Carthage,  contains  but  a  hundred  and 
eighteen  years. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FOUNDATION  CF  CARTHAGE,  AND  ITS  AGGRAN- 
DIZEMENT TILL  THE  TIME  CF  THE  FIRST  I'UNIC 
WAR. 

CARTHAGE  in  Africa  was  a  colony  from  Tyre,  the 
most  renowned  city  at  that  time  for  conimr rce  in  the 
world.  Tyre  had"  long  before  transplanted  into  thai 
country  another  colony,  which  built  I'tica.7  made  fa- 
mous by  the  death  of  the  second  Cato,  who  for  this 
reason  is  generally  called  Cato  Uticensis. 


•  Plot,  de  gen.  Rep.  p.  799.  •  I.ih.  xxii.  n.  61. 

'  Utica  et  Certkapo,  amkr  iitelyttr.  amkr  a  Pkmicitut 
tonditf;  itlafoaf  Calonis  itififiiis,  k<n  suo.  Pompon.  Mel. 
3.  Ii?.  L'tica  and  Carthage,  both  farroun.  and  liolh  fiuili  kt 
Phoenician*;  the  first  renowned  by  Cato'i  fate,  tue  lust  uy 
it*  uwn 

02 


78 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


Authors  di*b!.Tee  very  much  with  regard  to  the  sera 
of  tae  foundation  of  Carthage.1  It  is  a  difficult 
matter,  and  not  very  material,  to  reconcile  them:  at 
least,  agrteably  to'the  plan  laid  down  by  me,  it  is 
sufficient  to  know,  within  a  few  years,  the  time  in 
which  that  city  was  built. 

Carthage  existed  a  little  above  seven  hundred 
years.2  It  was  destroyed  under  the  consulate  of  Cn. 
Lentulus,  and  L.  Munimius,  the  603d  year  of  Rome, 
3859th  of  the  world,  and  145  before  Christ.  The 
fouiiJation  of  it  may  therefore  be  fixed  in  the  year  of 
the  world  3158,  when  Joash  was  king  of  Judah,  98 
years  before  the  building  of  Rome,  and  846  before 
our  Saviour. 

The  foundation  of  Carthage  is  ascribed  to  Elisa; 
Tyrian  princess,  better  known  by  the  name  of  Dido.3 
thobal,  king  of  Tyre,  and  fatherof  the  famous  Jezebel, 
called  in  Scripture  kthbaal,  was  her  great  grand  fa- 
ther. She  married  her  near  relation  Acerbas,  cal'ed 
otherwise  Sicharbas  and  Sichsus,  an  extremely  rich 
prince,  aiul  Pygmalion,  king  of  Tyre,  was  her  brother. 
This  prince  having  put  Sichaeus  to  death,  in  order 
that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  seizing  his  im- 
mense wealth,  Dido  eluded  the  cruel  avarice  of  her 
brother,  by  withdrawing  secretly  with  all  her  dead 
husband's  treasures.  Alter  having  long  wandered, 
•he  at  last  landed  on  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean, 
in  the  gulf  where  Utica  stood,  and  in  the  country  of 
Africa,  proptrly  so  called, distant  almostfifteen  miles4 
from  Tunis,  so  famous  at  this  time  for  its  corsairs, 
and  there  settled  with  her  few  followers,  after  having 
purchased  some  lands  from  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country. 

Many  of  the  neighbouring  people,  invited  by  the 
prospect  of  lucre,  repaired  thither  to  sell  to  thest 
new  comers  the  necessaries  of  life;  and  shortly  after 
incorporated  themselves  with  them.  These  inhabi- 
tants, who  had  been  thus  gathered  from  different 
places,  soon  grew  very  numerous.  The  citizens  of 
Utica,  considering  them  as  their  countrymen,  and  as 
descended  from  the  same  common  stock,  deputed  en- 
voys with  very  considerable  presents,  and  exhorted 
them  to  build  a  city  in  the  place  where  they  had  first 
settled.  The  natives  of  the  country,  from  the  esteem 
and  respect  frequentlv  shown  to  strangers,  did  as 
much  on  their  part.  Thus  all  things  conspiring  with 
Dido's  views,  she  built  her  city,  which  was  charged 
with  the  payment  of  an  annual  tribute  to  the  Africans 
for  the  ground  it  stood  upon:  and  called  Carthada, 
6  or  Carthage,  a  name  that  in  the  Phoenician  and 
Hebrew  tongues  (which  have  a  great  affinity)  signi- 
fies the  New  City.  It  is  said,  that  when  the  founda- 
tions were  dug,  a  horse's  head  was  found,  which  was 
thought  a  good  omen,  and  a  presage  of  the  future 
warlike  genius  of  that  people,6 

This  princess  was  afterwards  courted  by  larbas, 
king  of  Getulia,  and  threatened  with  a  war  in  case 
of  refusal.  Dido,  who  had  bound  herself  by  an  oath 

>  Our  countryman  //onre/enHeavours  to  reconcile  the  three 
difT.T.'iit  accounts  of  the  foundation  of  Carthage,  in  tlie  fol- 
lowing manner.  He  says,  that  the  town  enlisted  of  three 
parts.  uii.  Cotlion,  or  the  Port  and  buildings  adjoining  to  it, 
which  he  supposes  to  have  been  first  built  ;  Megara.  built 
next,  and,  in  respect  to  Cothon.  called  the  New  Town,  or 
Kathada;  and  Byrsa,  or  the  citadel,  built  last  of  all,  and 
probably  by  Dido. 

Colhon,  to  ajree  with  Appian,  was  built  fifty  years  before 
the  taking  of  Troy  ;  Megara,  to  correspond  with  Eusebius, 
wa«  built  a  hundred  and  ninety-four  years  later;  Byrsa,  to 
•gree  with  Menander  (cited  by  Josephus),  was  built  a  hun- 
dred and  sixty-six  years  after  Megara. 

•  Liv.  Epit.  I.  ii. 

•  Justin.  I   xviii.  c.  4— G.    App.  de  bello  Pun.  p.  1.  Strab. 
1  xvii.  p.  KK.     Paterc  1.  i.  c.  (j. 

«  120  iladia.     Strab.  ..  xiv.  p.  C87. 
»  Kartha  Hadaih,  or  Hudtha. 

•  Effiidere  loco  signum.  i|uod  regia  Juno 
Monslrarat,  rapul  arriiiequi ;  nam  sic  fore  bello 
Egrcgiam,  et  facilem  victu  per  aerula  gentem. 

Virg.  JEn.  1.  i.  447 

The  Tyrian*  landing  near  this  holy  around, 
And  digging  here,  a  prosperous  omen  found  : 
From  under  earth  a  courser's  head  they  drew, 
The  r  growth  and  future  fortune  to  foreshow. 
This  fated  sign  their  foundress  Juno  ^s,ve, 
Of  a  (oil  fruitful,  and  a  people  brave.  Drydert. 


not  to  consent  to  a  second  marriage,  being  incapable 
of  violating  the  faith  she  had  sworn  to  Sichaeus,  dfi- 
sired  time  for  deliberation,  and  for  appeasing  the 
manes  of  her  first  husband  bv  sacrifice,  having 
therefore  ordered  a  pile  to  be  raised,  she  ascended  it; 
and  drawing  out  a  dagger  which  she  had  concealed 
under  her  robe,  stabbtd  herself  with  it.7 

Virgil  has  made  a  great  alteration  in  this  history 
by  supposing  that  jEneas,  his  hero,  was  contemporary 
with  Dido,  though  there  was  an  interval  of  near 
three  centuries  between  the  one  and  the  other;  Car- 
thage being  built  three  hundred  years  after  the 
destruction  of  Troy.  This  liberty  is  very  excusable 
in  a  poet,  who  is  not  tied  to  the  scrupulous  accuracy 
of  an  historian;  and  we  admire,  with  great  reason, 
the  judgment  which  he  has  shown  in  his  plan  when, 
to  interest  the  Romans  (for  whom  he  wrote)  in  hll 
subject,  he  has  the  art  of  introducing  into  it  the  im» 
placable  hatred  which  subsisted  between  Carthage  and 
Rome,  and  ingeniously  deduces  the  original  of  it  from 
the  very  remote  foundation  of  those  two  rival  cities. 

Carthage,  whose  beginnings,  as  we  have  observed, 
were  very  weak  at  first,  grew  larger  by  insensible 
degrees,  in  the  countrv  where  it  was  founded.  But 
its  dominion  was  not  long  confined  to  Africa.  This 
ambitious  citv  extended  her  conquests  into  Europe, 
invaded  Sardinia,  made  herself  mistress  of  a  great 
part  of  Sicily,  and  reduced  to  her  subjection  ahnos4 
the  whole  of  Spain;  and  having  sent  out  powerful 
colonies  into  all  quarters,  enjoved  the  empire  of  the 
seas  for  more  than  six  hundred  years;  and  formed  a 
state  which  was  able  to  dispute  pre-eminence  with 
the  greatest  empires  of  the  world,  by  her  wealth,  her 
commerce,  her  numerous  armies,  her  formidable 
fleets,  and,  above  all,  by  the  courage  and  ability  of 
her  captains.  The  dates  and  circumstances  of  many 
of  these  conquests  are  lutle  known.  I  shall  take 
but  a  transient  notice  of  them,  in  order  to  enable  my 
readers  to  form  some  idea  of  the  countries,  which  will 
be  often  mentioned  in  the  course  of  this  history. 

Conquests  of  the  Carthaginians  in  Jifrica. 

The  first  wars  made  by  the  Carthaginians,  were  to 
free  themselves  from  the  annual  tribute  which  they 
had  engaged  to  pay  the  Africans,  for  the  territory 
which  had  been  ceded  to  them.8  This  conduct  does 
them  no  honour,  as  the  settlement  was  granted  them 
upon  condition  of  their  paying  a  tribute.  One  would 
be  apt  to  imagine,  that  they  were  desirous  of  cover- 
ing the  obscurity  of  their  original,  by  abolishing  this 
proof  of  it.  But  they  were  not  successful  on  this 
occasion.  The  Africans  had  justice  on  their  side,  and 
they  prospered  accordingly;  the  war  being  terminat- 
ed by  the  payment  of  the  tribute. 

The  Carth'aginians  afterwards  carried  their  arms 
against  the  Moors  and  Numidians,  and  gained  many 
conquests  over  both.9  Being  now  emboldened  by 
these  happv  successes,  they  shook  oft  entirely  the 
tribute  which  gave  them  so  much  uneasiness,10  and 
possessed  themselves  of  a  great  part  of  Africa. 


1  The  story,  as  it  is  told  more  at  large  in  Justin  (1.  xviii. 
c.  6.),  is  this:  lurbas,  king  of  the  Mauritania!!*,  sending 
for  ten  of  the  principal  Carthaginians,  demanded  Dido  in 
marriage,  threatening  to  declare  war  against  her  in  case  of 
a  refusal;  the  ambassadors  being  afraid  to  deliver  the 
messaee  of  larbas,  told  her  (with  Punic  honesty)  that  ht 
irantcii  to  hare  some  person  sent  him,  who  was  capable  of 
(irili-.ins  and  polishing  fiirn.tcff  and  his  Jifritans  :  but  that 
there  tras  no  possibility  of  fading  any  Carthaginian,  who 
would  be  willing  to  quit  his  natire  place  and  kindred,  for  tht 
conversation  of  Barbarians,  who  were  as  savage  as  the  rrild- 
est  beasts.  Here  the  queen,  with  indignation,  interrupting 
them,  and  asking,  if  they  were  not  ashamed  to  refuse  lirirrr  in 
any  manner  which  might  be  beneficial  to  their  rountry.  ta 
whirft  they  owed  eren  their  /ires?  they  then  delivered  the 
king's  message,  and  bid  her  set  them  a  pattern,  and  sacrifiet 
herse'f  to  her  country's  we/fare.  Dido  being  thusensnnred, 
called  on  Pirha-us  with  tears  and  lamentnlions,  and  answer- 
ed, that  she  would  go  where  the  fate  of  her  city  called  her. 
At  the  expiration  of  three  months,  she  ascended  the  fata! 
pile;  and  with  her  last  breath  told  the  »pectators,  that  she 
was  going  to  her  husband,  as  they  had  ordered  her. 

•  Justin.  1.  xi».  c.  1.  »  Ib.  cap.  2. 

10  Afri  compulsi  stipendium  urbis  condilte  Carthaginoc* 
libui  remitlere.  Justin.  1.  xix.  c.  2. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


About  this  time  there  arose  a  great  dispute  between 
Carthage  and  Cyrtne,  on  the  subject  of  their  respec- 
tive limits.1  Cyrene  was  a  very  powerful  city,  situated 
on  the  Mediterranean,  towards  the  greater  Svrtis, 
and  had  been  built  by  Battus,  the  Lacedaemonian. 

It  was  agreed  on  each  side,  that  two  young  men 
should  set  out  at  the  same  time,  from  either  city ; 
and  that  the  place  of  their  meeting  should  be  the 
common  boundary  of  both  states.  The  Carthagi- 
nians (these  were  two  brothers  named  Philaeni)  made 
the  most  haste,  and  their  antagonists  pretending 
that  foul  play  had  been  used,  and  that  the  two 
brothers  had  set  out  before  the  time  appointed,  re- 
fused to  stand  to  the  agreement,  unless  the  two 
brothers  (to  remove  all  suspicion  of  unfair  dealing) 
would  consent  to  be  buried  alive  in  the  place  where 
they  had  met.  They  acquiesced  with  the  proposal; 
•Off  the  Carthaginians  erected  on  the  spot,  two  altars 
to  their  memories,  and  paid  them  divine  honours  in 
their,  city;  and  from  that  time  the  place  was  called 
the  altars  of  the  Philaeni,  Arae  PhJIaeBOrum,1  and 
served  as  the  boundary  of  the  Carthaginian  empire, 
which  extended  from  thence  to  the  pillarsof  Hercules. 

Conquests  of  the  Carthaginians  in,  Sardinia,  Sfc. 

History  does  not  inform  us  exactly,  either  of  the 
time  when  the  Carthaginians  entered  Sardinia,  or  of 
the  manner  in  which  they  got  possession  of  it.  This 
island  was  of  great  use  to  them;3  and,  during  all 
their  wars,  supplied  them  abundantly  with  provi- 
sions. It  is  separated  from  Corsica  only  by  a  strait  of 
about  three  leagues  in  breadth.  The  metropolis  of 
the  southern  and  most  fertile  part  of  it,  was  Caralis 
or  Calaris,  now  called  Cagliari.  On  the  arrival  of 
the  Carthaginians,  the  natives  withdrew  to  the  moun- 
tains in  the  northern  parts  of  the  island,  which  are 
almost  inaccessible,  and  whence  the  enemy  could  not 
•lislodge  them. 

The  Carthaginians  seized  likewise  on  the  Balearic 
isles,  now  called  Majorca  and  Minorca.  Port  Ma- 
non  (Portus  Mag-oms},  in  the  latter  island,  was  so 
called  from  Mago,  a  Carthaginian  general,  who  first 
made  use  of  and  fortified  it.  It  is  not  known  who  this 
Mago  was;*  but  it  is  very  probable  that  he  was 
Hannibal's  brother.  This  harbour  is,  at  this  day,  one 
of  the  most  considerable  in  the  Mediterranean. 

These  isles  furnished  the  Carthaginians  with  the 
most  expert  slingers  in  the  world,  who  did  them  great 
service  in  battles  and  sieges.5  They  slang  large 
stones  of  above  a  pound  weight;  and  sometimes 
threw  leaden  bullets,6  with  so  much  violence,  that 
they  would  pierce  even  the  strongest  helmets,  shields, 
and"  cuirasses;  and  were  so  dexterous  in  their  aim, 
that  they  scarce  ever  missed  the  mark.  The  in- 
habitants of  these  islands  were  accustomed  from  their 
infancy  to  handle  the  sling;  for  which  purpose  their 
mothers  placed  on  the  bough  of  a  high  tree,  the  piece 
of  bread  designed  for  their  children's  breakfast,  who 
were  not  allowed  a  morsel  till  they  had  brought  it 
down  with  their  slings.  From  this  practice,  these 
islands  were  called  Balleares  and  Gymnasiae  by  the 
Greeks;7  because  the  inhabitants  used  to  exercise 
themselves  so  early  in  slinging  of  stones.8 

Conquests  of  the  Carthaginians  in  Spain. 

Before  I  enter  on  the  relation  of  these  conquests,  I 
think  it  proper  to  give  my  readers  some  idea  of  Spain. 


i  Siillust   de  bello  Jujurth.  n.  77.  Valer.  Max.  1.  r.  c.  6. 

»  These  allure  were  not  standing  in  Slrabo's  lime.  Some 
geographers  think  Arcadia  to  he  the  city  which  was  an- 
ciently called  PhilxMinrurn  Arse;  but  other*  believe  it  was 
Nairn  or  Tain,  situated  a  little  west  uf  Arcadia,  in  the  gulf 
of  Sidra. 

•  Si  rab.  1.  v.  p.  224.     Diod.  I.  v.  p.  296. 
«  Liv  I.  xxviii.  n.  37. 

•  Diod.  I.  v.  p.  29H.  and  I.  xix.  p.  742.     Liv.  loco  cilato. 

•  Liqi/r.*eit    ejtuffa  plans  funda,  et  attritu  aeris,  rrlut 
ipnc.  dislillat ;  i.  e.  The   hall,  when  thrown   from  the  sling, 
riissolv.  s  ;  and,  bv  the  friction  of  the  air,  runs  us  if  it  was 
melt.-d  by  fire.     Scrttc.  A'at.  Qvrct.  1.  ii.  r..  57.        ' 

'  BtMD.  1.  iii.  p.  107. 

•  Bochart   derives  the  name  of  these   island*  from  two 
Phoenician  words,  Baal-jare,  or  master  of  the  art  of  sling- 
ing.     This  strengthens  the  authority  of  Sirabo,  nil.  that 
the  inhabitant!  learned  their  art  from  the  Phoenicians,  who 


Spain  is  divided  into  three  parts.  Bo:  tica,  Lusitania 
Tanacontnsis.9 

Bottica,  so  called  from  the  river  Batis,10  was  the 
southern  division  of  it,  and  comprehended  the  presenl 
kingdom  of  Grenada,  Andalusia,  part  of  New  Cas 
tile,  and  Estrtmadura.  Cadiz,  called  by  the  ancienti 
Gades  and  Gadira,  is  a  town  situated  in  a  small  inland 
of  the  same  name,  on  the  western  coast  of  Andalusia, 
about  nine  leagues  from  Gibraltar.  It  is  well  known/ 
that  Hercules,  having  extended  his  conquests  to  thrt 
place,  halted,  from  the  supposition  that  he  was  coaie 
to  the  extremity  of  the  world.  He  here  ertcted  two 
pillars,  as  monuments  of  his  victories,  pursuant  to  the 
custom  of  that  age.  The  place  has  always  retained 
the  name,  though  time  has  quite  destroyed  these  pil- 
lars. Authors  are  divided  in  opinion,  with  regard  to 
the  place  where  these  pillars  were  erected.  Bcetica 
was  the  most  fruitful,  the  wealthiest,  and  most  popu- 
lous, part  of  Spain.12  It  contained  two  hundred  cities, 
and  was  inhabited  by  the  Turdetani,  or  Turduli.  On 
the  banks  of  the  Ba-tis  stood  three  large  cities;  Cas- 
tulo,  towards  the  source;  Corduba  lower  down,  the 
native  place  of  Lucau  and  the  two  Senecas;  lastly, 
Hispalcs.13 

Lusitania  is  bounded  on  the  west  by  the  Ocean,  on 
the  north  by  the  river  Durius,14  and  on  the  south  by 
the  river  Anas.13  Between  these  two  rivers  is  the 
Tagus.  Lusitania  was  w:hat  is  now  called  Portugal, 
with  part  of  Old  and  New  Castile. 

Tai'raconensis  comprehended  the  rest  of  Spain,  that 
is,  the  kingdom*  of  Murcia  and  Valentia,  Catalonia, 
Arragon,  Navarre,  Biscay,  the  Asturias,  Gallicia,  the 
kingdom  of  Leon,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  two 
Castilt-s.  Tarraco,'6a  very  considerable  city,  gave  its 
name  to  this  part  of  Spain.  Pretty  near  it  lay  Bar- 
cino.17  Its  name  gives  rise  to  the  conjecture,  that  it 
was  built  by  Hamilcar,  surnamed  Barca,  father  of  the 
great  Hannibal.  The  most  renowned  nations  of 
Tarraconensis  were,  the  Celtiberi,  beyond  the  river 
Iberus;18  the  Cantabri,  where  Biscay  now  lies;  the 
Carpetani,  whose  capital  was  Toledo;  the  Oretani 
&c. 

Spain,  abounding  with  mines  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  peopled  with  a  martial  race  of  men,  had  sufficient 
to  excite  both  the  avarice  and  ambition  of  the  Cartha- 
ginians, who  were  more  of  a  mercantile  than  of  a 
warlike  disposition,  from  the  very  genius  and  constitu- 
tion of  their  republic.  They  doubtless  knew  that 
their  Phoenician  ancestors  (as  Diodorus19  relates), 
taking  advantage  of  the  happy  ignorance  of  the 
Spaniards,  with  regard  to  the  immense  riches  which 
were  hid  in  the  bowels  of  their  lands,  first  took  from 
them  these  precious  treasures,  in  exchange  for  com- 
modities of  little  value.  They  likewise  foresaw,  that  if 
they  could  once  subdue  this  country,  it  would  furnish 
them  abundantly  with  well-disciplined  troops  for  the 
conauest  of  other  nations,  as  actually  happened. 

The  occasion  of  the  Carthaginians  first  landing  in 
Spain,  was  to  assist  the  inhabitants  of  Cadiz,  who 

wera  once  iheir  masters,  i~<? i>Jo»5Tai  xtirrti  xiy!vr»i — 
i;;. T:U  4>si'nxif  XXTICTXOV  ti;  vrrevf.  And  this  is  still  more 
probable,  when  we  consider  lhat  both  the  Hebrews  and 
Pho-nicians  excelled  in  this  art.  The  fialearian  slinks  would 
annoy  an  enemy  either  near  at  hand,  or  at  a  distance.  Ev- 
ery linger  carried  three  of  tl.em  in  war.  One  hung  from 
the  neck,  a  second  from  the  waist,  and  a  third  was  carried 
in  the  hand.  To  this,  give  me  leave  to  add  two  more  ob- 
servations (foreign  indeed  to  the  present  purpose,  but  rela- 
ting to  these  islands),  which  I  hope  will  not  he  unenlertain 
ing  to  the  reader.  The  first  is,  that  these  islands  were  one* 
so  infested  with  rabbits,  that  the  inhabitants  of  it  applied  to 
Rome,  either  for  aid  against  them,  or  otherwise  desired  new 
habitations,  i>oxXXiirS»  -,+e  \m'c  Tin  (,*•»»  TCUTUV,  those 
crentiin-8  having  ejected  them  out  of  their  old  ones  Vido 
Strab.  1'lin.  1.  viii.  c.  55.  The  second  observation  is.  that 
these  islanders  were  not  only  expert  slingers,  but  likewiss 
excellent  swimmers;  which  theA'are  o  this  day,  by  the  tes- 
timony of  our  countryman,  Siddulpk,  who,  in  his  travel* 
informs  us,  that  being  becalmed  near  these  islands,  a  woman 
swam  to  him  out  of  one  of  them,  with  a  basket  of  fruit  ti 
sell. 


•  Cluver,  1.  ii.  c.  2. 
«i  Strabo,  1.  iii.  p.  171. 
«•  Seville.  ««  Douro. 

'•  Tarragona. 
»•  Ebro. 


i«  Guadalquiver. 
i*  Ibid.  p.  139—142 
»»  Guadiana. 
»'  Barcelona. 
i»  Lib.  r.  p.  318. 


80 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


were  invaded  by  the  Spaniards.1  That  city  was  a 
colony  from  Tvre,  as  well  as  Utica  and  Carthage,  and 
even  more  ancient  than  either  of  them.  The  Tyrians 
having  built  it,  established  there  the  worship  of  Her- 
cul.-s;  anJ  erected,  in  his  honour,  a  magnificent  tem- 
ple, which  became  famous  in  after-ages.  The  success 
of  this  first  expedition  of  the  Carthaginians  made 
them  desirous  of  carrying  their  arms  into  Spain. 

It  is  not  exactly  known  in  what  period  they  entered 
Spain,  nor  how  far  they  extended  their  first  conquests. 
It  is  probable  that  these  were  slow  in  the  beginning, 
as  the  Carthaginians  had  to  do  with  very  warlike  na- 
tions, who  detended  themselves  with  great  resolution 
and  courage.  Nor  could  they  ever  have  accomplished 
their  design,  as  Strabo2  observes,  had  the  Spaniards 
(united  in  a  body)  formed  but  one  state,  and  mutually 
assisted  one  another.  But  as  every  district,  every 
people,  were  entirely  detached  from  their  neighbours, 
and  had  not  the  least  correpondence  nor  connection 
with  them,  the  Carthaginians  were  forced  to  subdue 
them  one  after  another.  This  circumstance  occa- 
sioned, on  one  hand,  the  loss  of  Spain;  but  on  the 
other,  protracted  the  war,  and  made  the  conquest  of 
the  country  much  more  difficult.3  Accordingly  it  has 
been  observed,  that  though  Spain  was  the  first  pro- 
vince which  the  Romans  invaded  on  the  continent,  it 
was  the  last  they  subdued;*  and  was  not  entirely 
subjected  to  their  power,  till  after  having  made  a 
vigorous  opposition  for  upwards  of  200  years. 

It  appears  from  the  accounts  given  by  Polvbius  and 
Livy,  of  the  wars  of  Hamilcar,  As:lrubal,  and  Han- 
nibal, in  Spain,  which  will  soon  be  mentioned,  that 
the  arms  of  the  Carthaginians  had  not  made  any 
considerable  progress  in  that  country  before  that  pe- 
riod, and  that  the  greatest  part  of  Spain  was  then 
unconquered.  But  in  twenty  years'  time  they  com- 
pleted the  conquest  of  almost  the  whole  country. 

At  the  time  that  Hannibal  set  out  for  Italy,5  all  the 
coast  of  Africa,  from  the  PhilTnorum  Arse,  by  the 
great  Syrtis  to  the  pillars  of  Hercules,  was  subject  to 
the  Carthaginians.  Passing  through  the  strait?,  they 
had  conquered  all  the  western  coast  of  Spain,  alongthe 
ocean,  as  far  as  the  Pyrenean  hills.  The  coast  which 
lies  on  the  Mediterranean,  had  been  almost  wholly 
subdued  by  them;  and  it  was  there  they  had  built 
Canhagena;  and  they  were  masters  of  all  the  coun- 
try, as  far  as  the  river  Iberus,  which  bounded  their 
dominions.  Such  was,  at  that  time,  the  extent  of 
their  empire.  In  the  centre  of  the  country,  some  na- 
tions had  indeed  held  out  against  all  their  efforts  and 
could  not  be  subdued  by  them. 

Conquests  of  the  Carthaginians  in  Sicily. 

The  wars  which  the  Carthaginians  carried  on  in 
Sicily  are  more  known.  I  shall  here  relate  those  which 
were  waged  from  the  reign  of  Xerxes,  who  first 
proinptedthe  Carthaginians  to  carry  their  arms  into 
Sicily,  till  the  first  Punic  war.  This  period  includes 
near  two  hundred  and  twenty  years;  viz.  from  the 
year  of  the  world  3520  to  3738.  At  the  breaking 
out  of  these  wars,  Syracuse,  the  most  considerable  as 
well  as  most  powerful  city  of  Sicily,  had  invested 
Gelon,  Hiero,  and  Thrasybulus  (three  brothers  who 
tucceeded  one  another)  with  the  sovereign  power. 
After  their  deaths,  a  democracy  or  popular  govern- 
ment was  established  in  that  city,  and  subsisted  above 
sixty  years.  From  this  time  the  two  Dionysiuses, 
Timnleon  and  Agathocles,  bore  the  sway  in  Syracuse. 
Pyrrhus  was  afterwards  invited  into  Sicily,"  but  he 
kept  possession  of  it  only  a  few  years.  Such  was  the 
government  of  Sicily  during  the  wars  of  which  I  am 
going  to  treat.  They  will  -five  us  great  light  with 
regard  to  the  power  of  the  Carthaginians,  at  the  time 
that  they  began  to  be  engaged  in  war  with  the  Romans. 

Sicily  is  the  largest  and  most  considerable  island  in 


the  Mediterranean.  It  is  of  a  triangular  "orm,  and 
for  that  reason  was  called  Trinacria  and  Triijuetra. 
The  eastern  side,  which  faces  the  Ionian  or  Grecian 
sea,  extends  from  cape  Pachvnum6  to  Ftlorum.f 


The  most  celebrated  cities  on  this  coast  are  S\racu*e, 
urominium   and   Messana.8      The  noithern  coast, 


Tau 


i  Justin,  l.xli*.  c.  5.  Diod.  1.  v  p.  TOO     «  Lib.  iii.  p.  159. 

•  Such  a  division  of  Britain  retarded,  and  at  the  name 
tim-  facilitated,  the  conquest  of  it  to  the  Romans  Dun 
tinjjM/i  p*f*ant.  K/iincrsi  rineuntur.  Tacit. 

«  HI-IJUIM,  prima  Romania  inita  Provinciarnm,  qnse 
quiilcm  continent  if  sint,  po«trema  omnium  perdomila  e«t. 
tic.  I.  xxviii.  n.  li  •  Polyb.  1.  iii.  p.  192. 1.  i.  p.  9. 


which  looks  towards  Italy,  reaches  from  cape  Ptlorura 
to  cape  Lilvbaeum.9  The  most  noted  cities  on  this 
coast  are  Mftae,  Himera,  I'anormus,  Eryx,  Motya, 
Lilybaeum.10  The  southern  coast,  which  lies  opposite 
to  Africa,  extends  from  cape  Lilyba?um  to  1  adnnum. 
The  most  remarkable  cities  on  this  coast  are  Selinus, 
Agrigentum.11  Gela,  and  Camarina.  This  island  if 
separated  from  Italy  by  a  strait,  which  is  not  nore 
than  a  mile  and  a  half  over,  and  called  the  Faro  or 
strait  of  Messina,  from  its  contiguity  to  that  city. 
The  passage  from  Lilybxum  to  Africa  is  but  IrCO  fur- 
longs,12 that  is,  about  seventy-live  leagues. 

The  period  in  which  the  Cartha- 
ginians first  carried  their  arms  into       A.  M.  3501. 
Sicily  is  not  exactly  known.13     All     A.  Caith.  343. 
we  are  certain  of  is,  that  they  were         Rome,  244. 
already    possessed   of  some   part  of    Ant.  J.  C.  503. 
it,  at  the  time  that  they  entered  into 
a  treaty  with  the  Romans;    the  same  year  that  the 
kings  were  expelled,  and  consuls  appointed   in  their 
roam,  viz.  twenty-eight  years  before  Xerxes  invaded 
Greece.     This  treaty,  which  is  the  first  we  find  men- 
tioned to  have  been  made  between  these  two  nations, 
speaks  of    Africa  and    Sardinia  as  possessed  by  the 
Carthaginians;  whereas  the  conventions  with  regard 
to  Sicily,  relate  only  to  those  ports  of  the  island  which 
were  subject  to  them.     By  this  treaty  it  is  expressly 
stipulated,  that  neither  the  Romans  nor  their  alliet 
shall  sail  beyond  the  Fair  Promontory,14  which  wai 
very   near  Carthage;    and    that    such    merchants,    as 
shall   resort  to    this   city   for  traffic,   shall  pay  only 
certain  duties  which  are  settled  in  it.15 

It  appears  bv  the  same  treaty,  that  the  Carthaginians 
were  particularly  careful  to  exclude  the  Romans  from 
all  the  countries  subject  to  them:  as  well  as  from  the 
knowledge  of  what  was  transacting  in  them;  as  though 
the  Carthaginians,  even  at  that  time,  had  taken  um- 
brage at  the  rising  power  of  the  Romans;  and  already 
harboured  in  their  breasts  the  secret  seeds  of  thai 
jealousy  and  distrust,  that  were  one  day  to  burst  oul 
in  long  and  cruel  wars,  and  a  mutual  hatred  and  ani- 
mosity, which  nothing  could  extinguish  but  the  ruin 
of  one  of  the  contending  powers. 

Some  years  after  the  conclusion  of 
this  first  treaty,  the  Carthaginians  A,  M.  3520. 
made  an  allirmce  with  Xerxes,  king  A.:d  J.C.  434. 
of  Persia.16  This  prince,  who  aimed 
at  nothing  less  than  the  total  extirpation  of  the  Greeks, 
whom  he  considered  as  his  irreconcilable  enemies, 
thought  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  succeed 
in  his  enterprise  without  the  assistance  of  Carthage, 
whose  power  was  formidable  even  at  that  time.  Th« 
Carthaginians,  who  always  kept  in  view  the  design 
they  entertained  of  seizing  upon  the  remainder  of  Si- 
cily, greedily  snatched  the  favourable  opportunity 
wh'ich  now  presented  itself  for  their  completing  the 
reduction  of  it.  A  treaty  was  therefore  concluded; 
wherein  it  was  agreed,  that  the  Carthaginians  were 
to  invade,  with  all  their  forces,  those  Greek*  who 
were  settled  in  Sicilv  and  Italy,  whilst  Xerxes  should 
march  in  person  against  Greece  itself. 


•  Fasaaro.  '  II  Faro. 

•  [Now  called  Saragosa.   Taormina   and   Messina     ?;\r- 
a?osa  is   now  a  place  of  little  or  no  importance,  and  wat 
almost  entirely  destroyed  in  the  great  earthquake  of  1C93. 

•  Cape  Boco. 

«•  [The  city  of  I.ilyh.Tum  is  now  called  Marsala.] 

»'  [Now  Girgenti.  Mill  a  neat  and  strong  town,  and  thf 
see  of  a  Bishop  Suffragan  of  Palermo.  It  was  ruined  by  ttw 
Saracens,  in  the  tenth  century,  afier  a  lonjr  and  vigorous  da 
fence.]  »'  Strnbo.  1.  vi.  p.  CUT. 

>»  Polvb.  1.  iii.  p.  245,  et  seq.  edit.  Grnnnv. 

««  Tin"-  reason  of  this  restraint,  according  to  Pohbius  wai 
the  unwillinjnesy  of  the  Carthaginians  to  let  the  R<.mim» 
have  any  knowledge  of  the  countries  which  lay  more  to  th» 
south,  in  order  that  this  enterprises  people  miirht  nut  hear 
of  their  fertility.  Polyb.  1.  iii.  p.  2-IT.  edit.  f)rovov. 

»•  Polyb.  I.  iii.  p.  246.  «•  Diod.  I.  xi.  p.  J    'G.  22. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


81 


The  preparations  for  this  war  lastect  three  years. 
The  land  army  amounted  to  no  less  than  three  hun- 
dred thousand  men.  The  fleet  consisted  of  two  thou- 
sand ships  of  war,  and  upwards  of  three  thousand 
small  vessels  of  burden.  Hamilcar,  the  most  expe- 
rienced captain  of  his  age,  sailed  from  Carthage  with 
this  formidable  army.  He  landed  at  Palermo,1  and, 
after  refreshing  his  troops,  he  marched  against  Hi- 
mera, a  city  not  far  distant  from  Palermo,  and  laid 
siege  to  it.  Theron,  who  commanded  in  it,  seeing 
bimself  very  much  straitened,  sent  to  Gelon,  who  had 
possessed  himself  of  Syracuse.  He  flew  immediately 
to  his  relief,  with  fifty  thousand  foot  and  five  thousand 
horse.  His  arrival  infused  new  courage  into  the  be- 
sieged, who,  from  that  time,  made  a  very  vigorous 
defence. 

Gelon  was  an  able  warrior,  and  excelled  in  strata- 
gems. A  courier  was  brought  to  him,  who  had  been 
despatched  from  Selinus,  a  city  of-  Sicily,  with  a  letter 
for  I  lamilcar,  to  inform  him  of  the  day  when  he  might 
expect  the  cavalry  which  he  had  demanded  of  them. 
Gelon  drew  out  an  equal  number  of  his  own  troops, 
and  sent  them  from  his  camp  about  the  time  agreed 
on.  These  being  admitted  into  tne  enemy's  camp, 
as  coming  from  Selinus,  rushed  upon  Hamilcar,  killed 
him,  and  set  fire  to  his  ships.  In  this  critical  con- 
juncture, Gilon  attacked,  with  all  his  forces,  the  Car- 
thaginians, who  at  first  made  a  gallant  resistance. 
But  when  the  news  of  their  general's  death  was 
brought  them,  and  they  saw  all  their  fleet  in  a  blaze, 
their  courage  failed  them,  and  they  fled.  And  now 
a  dreadful  slaughter  ensued:  upwards  of  a  hundred 
and  titty  thousand  being  slain.  The  rest  of  the  army, 
having  retired  to  a  place  where  they  were  in  want  of 
every  thing,  could  not  make  a  long  defence,  and  were 
forced  to  surrender  at  discretion.  This  battle  was 
fought  the  very  day  of  the  famous  action  of  Thermo- 
pylae, in  winch  three  hundred  Spartans,2  with  the 
sacrifice  of  their  lives,  disputed  Xerxes's  entrance 
into  Greece. 

When  the  sad  news  was  brought  to  Carthage  of 
the  entire  defeat  of  the  army,  consternation,  grief,  and 
despair,  threw  the  whole  city  into  such  a  confusion 
and  alarm  as  are  not  to  be  expressed.  It  was  ima- 
gined that  the  enemy  was  already  at  the  gates.  The 
Carthaginians,  in  great  reverses  of  fortune,  always 
lost  theircourage,  and  sunk  into  the  opposite  extreme. 
Immediately  they  sent  a  deputation  to  Gelon,  by 
which  they  desired  peace  upon  any  terms.  He  hearcl 
their  envoys  with  great  humanity.'The  complete  vic- 
tory he  had  gained,  so  far  from  making  him  haughty 
and  untractable,  had  only  increased  his  modesty  and 
clemency  even  towards  'the  enemy.  He  therefore 
granted  them  a  peace,  without  any  other  condition, 
than  their  paying  two  thousand  talents3  towards  the 
expense  of  the  war.  He  likewise  required  them  to 
build  two  temples,  where  the  treaty  of  this  peace 
should  be  deposited, and  exposed  atall  times  to  public 
view.  The  Carthaginians  did  not  think  this  a  dear 
purchase  of  a  peace  that  was  so  absolutely  necessary 
to  their  affairs,  and  which  they  hardlv  durst  hope  for. 
Gisgo,  the  son  of  Hamilcar,  pursuant  to  the  unjust 
custom  of  the  Carthaginians,  of  ascribing  to  the  gene- 
ral the  ill  success  of  a  war,  and  making  him  bear  the 
blame  of  it,  was  punished  for  his  father's  misfortune, 
and  sent  into  banishment.  He  passed  the  remainder 
of  his  days  at  Selinus,  a  city  of  Sicily. 

Gelon,   on  his   return  to   Syracuse,   convened   the 

eopK'.  and  invited   all  the  citizens  to  appear  under 

rms     He   himself  entered   the    assembly,    unarmed 

nd  ivit'iout  his  guards,   and  there  gave   an  account 

of  the  whole  conduct  of  his  life.  His  speech  met  with 

no  other  interruption  than  the  public  testimonieswhich 

were  given  him  of  gratitude   and  admiration.   So  far 

from  bein-r  treated  as  a  tyrant,  and  the  oppressor  of 

bis  country's  liberty,  he  was  considered  as  its  bene- 


»  This  city  is  culled  in  Latin  Panormvs. 

»  Beside.*  the  300  Spartan*,  the  Thespians,  a  people  of 
Brcotiu.  lo  the  number  of  700.  fought  and  died  with  Leonidas 
in  this  memorable  battle.  Herod.  I.  vii.  c.  202—  222. 

»  An  Jittie  silver  talent,  according  to  Dr.  Bernard,  U20C/. 
it.;  consequently,  2000  talcnU  a  412,500*. 

VOL   1.— Jl 


I  factor  and  deliverer;  all,  with  a  unanimous  voire,  pro- 
claimed him  king;  and  the  crown  was  bestowed,  after 
hi*  death,  on  his  two  brothers. 

After  the  memorable  defeat  of  the 
Athenians  before  Syracuse,4  where  A.  M.  3592. 
JVicias  perished  with  his  whole  fleet,  A.  Garth.  434. 
the  Segestans,  who  had  declared  in  A.  Rom,  336. 
favour  of  the  Athenians  against  the  Ant,  J.  C.  412, 
Syracusans,  fearing  the'  resentment 
of  their  enemies,  and  being  attacked  by  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Selinus,  implored  tneaid  of  the  Carthaginians, 
and  put  themselves  and  city  under  their  protection. 
At  Carthage,  the  people  debated  some  time,  what 
course  it  would  be  proper  for  them  to  take,  the  affair 
meeting  with  great  difficulties.  On  one  hand,  the 
Carthaginians  were  very  desirous  to  possess  them- 
selves of  a  city  which  lay  so  convenient  for  them;  on 
the  other,  they  dreaded  the  power  and  forces  of  Syra- 
cuse, which  had  so  lately  cut  to  pieces  a  numerous 
army  of  the  Athenians;  and  become,  by  so  shining  a 
victory,  more  formidable  than  ever.  At  last,  the  lust 
of  empire  prevailed,  and  the  Segestans  were  promised 
succours. 

The  conduct  of  this  war  was  committed  to  Hanni- 
bal, who  at  that  time  was  invested  with  the  highest 
dignity  of  the  state,  being  one  of  the  Sufletes.  He 
was  grandson  to  Hamilcar,  who  had  been  defeated 
by  Gelon,  and  killed  before  Himera,  and  son  to  Gisgo 
who  had  been  condemned  to  exile.  He  left  Carthage, 
animated  with  an  ardent  desire  of  revenging  his  fn- 
mily  and  country,  and  of  wiping  away  the  disgrace  of 
the  last  defeat.  He  had  a  very  great  army  as  well  a* 
fleet  under  his  command.  He  landed  at  a  place  called 
the  Well  ofLilybattm,  which  gave  its  name  to  ^city 
afterwards  built  on  the  same  spot.  His  first  enter- 
prise was  the  siege  of  Selinus.  The  attack  and  de- 
fence were  equally  vigorous,  the  very  women  showing 
a  resolution  and  bravery  above  their  sex.  The  citr, 
after  making  a  long  resistance,  was  taken  by  storm. 
and  the  plunder  of  it  abandoned  to  the  soldiers.  The 
victor  exercised  the  most  horrid  cruelties,  without 
showing  the  least  regard  to  either  age  or  sex.  He 
permitted  such  inhabitants  as  had  fled,  to  continue  in 
the  city  after  it  had  been  dismantled;  and  to  till  the 
lands,  on  condition  of  their  paying  a  tribute  to  the 
Carthaginians.  This  city  had  been  built  two  hundred 
and  forty  two  years. 

Himera,  which  he  next  besieged  and  took  likewise 
by  storm,  after  being  more  cruelly  treated  than  Seli- 
nus, was  entirely  razed,  two  hundred  and  forty  years 
after  its  foundation.  He  forced  three  thousand  pri- 
soners to  undergo  every  kind  of  ignominious  punish- 
ments; and  at  last  murdered  them  all  on  the  very 
spot  where  his  grandfather  had  been  killed  by  Gelon's 
cavalry,  <o  appease  and  satisfy  his  manes  by  the  blood 
of  these  unhappy  victims. 

These  expeditions  being  ended,  Hannibal  returned 
to  Carthage,  on  which  occasion  the  whole  city  came 
out  to  meet  him,  and  received  him  amidst  the  most 
jovftil  acclamations. 

These  successes  reinflamed  the  desire,5  and  revived 
the  design,  which  the  Carthaginians  had  ever  enter- 
tained of  making  themselves  masters  of  the  w:hole  of 
Sicily.  Three  years  after,  they  appointed  Hannibal 
their  general  a  second  time;  and  on  his  pleading  his 
great  age,  and  refusing  the  command  of  this  war,  they 
gave  him  for  lieutenant,  Imilco,  son  of  Hanno  of  the 
same  family.  The  preparations  for  this  war  were  pro- 

Eortioned  to  the  great  design  which  the  Carthaginians 
ad  formed.  The  fleet  and  army  were  soon  ready, 
and  set  out  for  Sicily.  The  number  of  their  forces, 
according  to  Timasus,  amounted  to  above  six  score 
thousand;  and  according  to  Ephorus,  to  three  hun 
dred  thousand  men.  The  enemy,  on  their  side1,  were 
prepared  to  give  the  Carthaginians  a  warm  reception. 
The  Syracusans  had  sent  lo  all  their  allies,  in  order  to 
levy  forces  amongthem:  and  to  all  the  cities  of  Sicily 
to  exhort  them  to  exert  themselves  vigorously  in  de- 
fence of  their  liberties. 

Agrigentum  expected  to  feel  the  first  fury  of  the 

«  Diod.  1.  xiii.  p.  169—171.    179—186. 

•  Id.  1.  xiii.  p.  201-203;  20C— 211 ;  226—231. 


82 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


enemy  This  city  was  prodigiously  rich,1  and  strongly 
fortified.  It  was  situated,  as  was  also  Selinus,  on  that 
coast  of  Sicily  which  faces  Africa.  Accordingly,  Han- 
nibal opened  the  campaign  with  the  siege  of  this  city. 
Imagining  that  it  was  impregnable  except  on  one  side, 
he  directed  his  whole  force  to  that  quarter.  Rethrew 
up  banks  and  terraces  as  high  as  the  walls;  and  made 
u«e,  on  this  occasion,  of  the  rubbish  and  fragments  of 
the  tombs  standing  round  the  city,  which  he  had  de- 
molished, for  that  purpose.  Soon  after,  the  plague 
infected  the  army,  and  swept  away  a  great  number  of 
the  soldiers,  and  the  general  himself.  The  Cartha- 

finians  interpreted  this  disaster  as  a  punishment  in- 
icted  by  the  gods,  who  revenged  in  this  manner  the 
injuries  done  to  the  dead,  whose  ghosts  many  fancied 
they  had  seen  stalking  before  them  in  the  night.  No 
more  tombs  were  therefore  demolished,  prayers  were 
ordered  to  be  made  according  to  the  practice  of  Car- 
thage; a  child  was  sacrificed  to  Saturn,  in  compliance 
with  a  most  inhuman  superstitious  custom;  and  many 
victims  were  thrown  into  the  sea,  in  honour  of  Ts  ep- 
tune. 

The  besieged,  who  at  first  had  gained  several  ad- 
vantages, were  at  last  so  pressed  by  famine,  that  all 
hopes  of  relief  seeming  desperate,  they  resolved  to 
abandon  the  city.  The  following  night  was  fixed  on 
for  this  purpose.  The  reader  will  naturally  image 
to  himself  the  grief  with  which  these  miserable  people 
must  be  seized,  on  their  being  forced  to  leave  their 
houses,  their  rich  possessions,  and  their  country;  but 
life  was  still  dearer  to  them  than  all  these.  Never 
was  a  more  melancholy  spectacle  seen.  To  omit  the 
rest,  a  crowd  of  women,  bathed  in  tears,  were  seen 
dragging  after  them  their  helpless  infants,  in  order  to 
secure  them  from  the  brutal  fury  of  the  victor.  But 
the  most  grievous  circumstance  was,  the  necessity 
they  were  under  of  leaving  behind  them  the  aged  and 
sick,  who  were  unable  either  to  fly  or  to  make  the 
least  resistance.  The  unhappy  exiles  arrived  at  Gela, 
which  was  the  nearest  city,  and  there  received  all  the 
comforts  they  could  expect  in  the  deplorable  condition 
to  which  they  were  reduced. 

In  the  mean  time,  Imilco  entered  the  city;  and 
murdered  all  who  were  found  in  it.  The  plunder 
vfns  immensely  rich,  and  such  as  might  be  expected 
from  one  of  the  most  opulent  cities  of  Sicily,  which 
contained  two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
had  never  been  besieged,  nor  consequently  plundered 
before.  A  numberless  multitude  of  pictures,  vases,  and 
statues  of  all  kinds,  were  found  here;  the  citizens 
having  an  exquisite  taste  for  the  polite  arts.  Among 
other  curiosities  was  the  famous  bull2  of  Phalaris, 
which  was  sent  to  Carthage. 

The  siege  of  Agrigentum  had  lasted  eigh^  months. 
Imilco  made  his  forces  take  up  their  winter-quarters 
in  it,  to  give  them  the  necessary  refreshments;  and 
left  this  city  (after  laying  it  entfrely  in  ruins)  in  the 
beginning  of  the  spring.  He  afterwards  besieged 
Gela,  ana  took  it,  notwithstanding  the  succours  which 
were  brought  by  Dionvsius  the  tvrant,  who  had  seized 
upon  the  government  of  Syracuse.  Imilco  ended  the 
warby  a  treaty  with  Dionvsius.  The  conditions  of 

»  The  very  sepulchral  monuments  showed  the  magnifi- 
cence and  luxury  of  this  city,  being  adorned  with  statues  of 
birds  and  horses.  But  the  wealth  and  boundleis  generosity 
of  Gellias,  one  of  its  inhabitants,  is  almost  incredible.  He 
entertained  the  people  with  spectacles  and  fea«ts ;  and  du- 
ring a  famine,  prevented  the  citizens  from  dvi;i?  with  hun- 
ger: he  gave  portions  to  poor  maidens,  and  rescued  the 
unfortunate  from  want  and  despair :  he  had  built  houses  in 
the  city  nnd  the  country,  purposely  for  the  accommodation 
of  stranger*,  whom  he  usually  dismissed  with  handsome 
presents.  Five  hundred  shipwrecked  citizens  of  Gela,  ap- 
plying to  him,  were  bountifully  relieved,  and  every  man 
•applied  with  a  cloak  and  coat  out  of  his  wardrjbe.  Diod. 
..  xiii.  Vmltf.  Mar.  I.  iv.  c.  ult.  Empedoclps,  the  philoso- 
pher, bom  in  A'rijentum,  hns  a  memorable  saying  con- 
eerninj  hi.«  Ml  nv  citizens  :  Thai  the  ^yrifrenti-nes  squan- 
Jertd  their  moiey  fo  erre-ftirely  erery  day.  us  if  they  erpett- 
ed  it  could  nerfr  be,  erhausted ;  and  built  mth  such  solidity 
mad  mapnijiceiict.  as  if  they  thought  they  should  lit-  fnrtrtr. 

*  Thi«  bull,  with  other  spoil*  here  taken,  was  afterwards 
restored  to  the  Airrigontines  by  !?cipio,  when  he  took  Car- 
thage in  the  third  Punic  war.  tic.  oral.  iv.  in  ferrtm. 
t.  33 


it  were,  that  the  Carthaginians,  oesides  their  ancif  «t 
acquisitions  in  Sicily,  should  still  possess  the  country 
of  the  Sicanians,3  Stlinus,  Agrigentum,  and  Himera; 
as  likewise  that  of  Gtla  and  Camarina,  with  leave 
for  the  inhabitants  to  reside  in  their  respective  dis- 
mantled cities,  on  condition  of  their  paving  a  tribute 
I  to  Carthage;  that  the  Leontines,  the"  Alessenians, 
and  all  the  Sicilians,  should  retain  their  own  laws, 
and  preserve  thtir  liberty  and  independence:  lastly, 
that  the  Syractisans  should  still  continue  subject  to 
Dionvsius.  After  this  treaty  was  concluded,  Imilco 
returned  to  Carthage,  where  the  plague  still  made 
dreadful  havoc. 

Dionysius«had  concluded  the  late 
peace  with  the  Carthaginians  with  A.  M.  3600. 
no  other  view  than  to  get  time  to  (s-  A.  Carth.  442. 
tablish  his  new  authority,  and  make  A.  Rom.  344. 
the  necessary  preparations  for  the  Ant.  J.  C.  404. 
war  which  he  meditated  against 
them.  As  he  was  very  sensible  how  formidable  the 
power  of  this  state  was,  he  used  his  utmost  endea- 
vours to  enable  himself  to  invade  them  with  success; 
and  his  design  was  wonderfully  well  seconded  by  the 
real  of  his  subjects.  The  fame  of  this  prince,  the 
strong  desire  he  had  to  distinguish  himself,  the  charms 
!  of  gam,  and  the  propect  of  the  rewards  which  he 
promised  those  who  should  show  the  greatest  indus- 
try, invited,  from  all  quarters,  into  Sicily,  the  most 
able  artists  and  workmen  at  that  time  in  the  world. 
All  Syracuse  now  became  in  a  manner  an  immense 
workshop,  in  every  part  of  which  men  were  seen 
making  swords,  helmets,  shields,  and  military  engines, 
and  preparing  all  things  necessary  for  building  ships 
and  fitting  out  fleets.  The  invention  ot  vessels  with 
five  benches  of  oars  (or  Qttinqrieremes^,  was  at  that 
time  very  recent;  for,  till  then,  those  with  three  alone* 
had  been  used.  Dionvsius  animated  the  workmen  by 
his  presence,  snd  by  the  applauses  he  gave,  and  the 
bounty  which  he  bestowed  seasonably;  but  chiefly  bv 
his  popular  and  engaging  behaviour,  which  excitea, 
more  strongly  than  any  other  conduct,  the  industry 
and  ardour  of  the  workmen  ;6and  he  frequently  allowed 
those  of  them  who  most  excelled  in  their  respective 
arts  the  honour  to  dine  with  him. 

When  all  things  were  ready,  and  a  great  numbei 
of  forces  had  been  levied  in  different  countries,  he 
called  the  Syracusans  together,  laid  his  design  before 
them,  and  represented  to  them  that  the  Carthaginians 
were  the  professed  enemies  to  the  Greeks:  that  they 
had  no  less  in  view  than  the  invasion  of  all  Sicily; 
the  subjecting  all  the  Grecian  cities;  and  thai. in  case 
their  progress  was  not  checked,  the  Syracusans 
themselves  would  soon  be  attacked:  that  the  reason 
why  the  Carthaginians  did  not  attempt  any  en'erprise, 
and  continued  inactive,  was  owing  entirely  to  the 
dreadful  havoc  made  by  the  plague  among  them; 
which  (he  observed)  was  a  favourable  opportunity,  of 
which  the  Syracusans  ought  to  take  advantage. 
Though  the  tyranny  and  the  tyrant  were  equally 
odious  to  Syracuse,  yet  the  hatred  the  people  bore  to 
Carthaginians  prevailed  over  all  other  considerations; 
and  every  one,  guided  more  by  the  views  of  an  interest- 
ed policy  than  DV  the  dictates  of  justice,  receivtd  the 
speech  with  applause.  Upon  this,  without  the  least 
complaint  made,  or  any  declaration  of  war,  Diorysius 
gave  up  to  the  fury  of  the  populace,  the  persont  and 
possessions  of  the  Carthaginians.  Great  nui  iberg 
of  them  resided  at  that  time  in  Syracuse,  and 
traded  there  on  the  faith  of  treaties.  The  common 
people  ran  to  their  houses,  plundered  their  effects,  and 
pretended  they  were  sufficiently  authorized  to  exer- 
cise every  ignominy,  and  inflict  every  kind  of  punish- 
ment on 'them,  for"  the  cruelties  they  had  exercised 
against  the  natives  of  the  country.  And  this  horrid 
example  of  perfidy  and  inhumanity  was  followed 
throughout  the  whole  island  of  Sicily.  This  was  the 
bloody  signal  of  the  war  which  wa»  declared  auainsl 
them.  Dionvsius  having  thus  begun  to  do  himsell 
justice  (in  his  way),  sent  deputies  to  Carthage,  to 


>  The  Sicaniann  and  Sicilians  were  anciently  two  distinct 
people.  «  Uiod.  1.  xiv.  p.  26^-276. 

*  Trireme*  •  HOMOS  alit  ar'.ei. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


83 


n^quire  them  tD  restore  all  the  Sicilian  cities  to  their 
liberties;  and  that  otherwise,  ail  the  Carthaginians 
found  in  them  should  be  treated  as  enemies.  This 
news  spread  a  general  alarm  in  Carthage,  especially 
when  they  reflected  on  the  sad  condition  to  which 
they  were  reduced. 

Dionvsius  opened  the  campaign  with  the  siege  of 
Motya,"  which  was  the  magazine  of  the  Carthaginians 
in  Sicily;  and  he  pushed  on  the  siege  with  so  much 
vigour,  that  it  was  impossible  for  Inulco,  the  Cartha- 
ginian admiral,  to  relieve  it.  He  brought  forward  his 
engines,  battered  the  place  with  his  battering  rains, 
advanced  to  the  wall-towers,  six  stories  high  (rolled 
upon  wheels),  and  of  an  equal  height  with  their 
houses:  and  from  these  he  greatly  annoyed  the 
besieged  with  his  Catapult*,  an  engine  then  recently 
invented,  which  hurled.,  with  great  violence,  numerous 
vollevs  of  arrows  and  stones  against  the  enemy.1  At 
last,  the  citv,  after  a  long  and  vigorous  defence,  was 
taken  by  storm,  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  it  put  to 
the  sword,  those  excepted  who  took  sanctuary  in  the 
temples.  The  plunder  of  it  was  abandoned*  to  the 
soldiers;  and  Dionvsius,  leaving  a  strong  garrison 
and  a  trustv  governor  in  it,  returned  to  Syracuse. 

The  following  year  Imilco,  being  appointed  one  of 
the  Sulletes,  returned  to  Sicily  with  a  far  greater 
•Briny  than  before.2  He  landed  at  Palermo,  recovered 
Mot'ya  by  force,  and  took  several  other  cities.  Ani- 
mated bv  these  successes,  he  advanced  towards  Syra- 
cuse, with  design  to  besiege  it;  marching  his  infantry 
by  land,  whilst  his  fleet,  under  the  command  of  Mago, 
sailed  along  the  coast. 

The  arrival  of  Imilco  threw  the  Syracusans  into 
great  consternation.  About  two  hundred  ships  laden 
with  the  spoils  of  the  enemy,  and  advancing  in  good 
order,  entered  in  a  kind  of  triumph  the  great  harbour, 
being  followed  by  five  hundred  barks.  At  the  same 
time  the  land  army,  consisting,  according  to  some 
authors  of  three  hundred  thousand  foot,3  and  three 
thousand  horse,  was  seen  marching  forward  on  the 
other  side  of  the  city.  Imilco  pitched  his  tent  in  the 
very  temple  of  Jupiter;  and  the  rest  of  the  army 
encamped  at  twelve  furlongs,  or  about  a  mile  and  a 
half,  from  the  city.  Marching  up  to  it,  Imilco  offered 
battle  to  the  inhabitants  who  did  not  care  to  accept  the 
challenge.  Imilco,  satisfied  at  his  having  extorted 
from  the  Syracusans  this  confession  of  their  own 
weakness  and  his  superiority,  returned  to  his  camp; 
not  doubting  but  he  should*  soon  be  master  of  the 
city,  considering  it  already  as  a  certain  prey  which 
could  not  possibly  escape  him.  For  thirty  days 
together,  he  laid  waste  the  neighbourhood  about  Syra- 
cuse, and  ruined  the  whole  country.  He  possessed 
him«elfof  the  suburb  of  Achradina  and  plundered  the 
temples  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine.  To  fortify  his 
camp,  he  beat  down  the  tombs  which  stood  around 
the  city;  and  among  others,  that  of  Gelon  and  his 
wife  Demarata,  which  was  prodigiously  magnificent. 

But  these  successes  were  not  lasting.  All  the  splen- 
dour of  this  anticipated  triumph  vanished  in  a  moment, 
and  taught  mankind,  says  the  historian,*  that  the 
proudest  mortal  blasted  sooner  or  later  by  a  superior 
power,  shall  be  forced  to  confess  his  own  weakness. 
\VhiIst  Imilco,  now  master  of  almost  all  the  cities 
of  Sicily,  expected  to  crown  his  conquests  by  the 
redaction  of  Syracuse,  a  contagious  distemper  seized 
his  army,  and  made  dreadful  havoc  in  it.  It  was  now 
in  the  midst  of  summer,  and  the  heat  ofthat  year  was 
excessive.  The  infection  began  among  the  Africans, 
multitudes  of  whom  died,  without  anv  possibility  of 
their  being  relieved.  At  first  care  was  taken  to  inter 
(he  dead;  but  the  number  increasing  daily,  and  the 
Infection  spreading  very  fast,  the  dead  lay  unburied, 
snd  the  sick  could  have  no  assistance.  This  plague 
wa«  attended  with  very  uncommon  symptoms,  such  as 
violent  dysenteries,  raging  fevers,  burning  entrails. 


'  The  curious  reader  will  find  a  particular  account  of  it 
in  (lie  second  volume  of  this  work.  Book  XXII. 

»  Diod.  I.  xiv.  p.  279— 2!>5.     Justin.  1.  xix.  r.  2.  3. 

»  Pome  authors  say  hut  thirty  thousand  foot,  which  is 
the  more  probable  acco'int,  as  tho  fleet  which  blocked  up 
the  town  by  sea  wa»  so  formidable.  4  Diodoru*. 


acute  pains  in  every  part  of  the  body.  The  infected 
were  even  seized  with  madness  and  fun",  so  tlia*  they 
would  fall  upon  any  persons  that  came  in  their  way 
and  tear  them  to  pieces. 

Dionysius  did  not  sutler  to  escape  so  favourable  an 
opportunity  for  attacking  the  enemy.  Being  more 
than  half  conquered  bv  the  plague,  they  made  but  a 
feeble  resistance.  The  Carthaginian  ships  were 
almost  all  either  taken  or  burnt.  The  inhabitants  in 
genera!  of  Syracuse,  old  men,  women,  and  children, 
came  pouring  out  of  the  city  to  behold  an  event  which 
to  them  appeared  miraculous.  With  hands  lilted  up 
to  heaven,  they  thanked  the  tutelar  gods  of  their  city, 
for  having  avenged  the  sanctity  of  the  temples  and 
tombs,  which  had  been  so  brutally  violated  bv  these 
barbarians.  Is ight  coming  on,  both  parties  retired, 
when  Imilco,  taking  the  opportunity  of  this  short 
suspension  of  hostilities,  sent  to  Dionysius,  requesting 
leave  to  carry  back  with  him.  the  small  remains  of  his 
shattered  army,  with  an  offer  of  three  hundred  talents,* 
which  was  all  the  .specie  he  had  then  left.  But  this 
permission  could  only  be  obtained  for  the  Carthagi- 
nians, with  whom  Imilco  stole  away  in  the  night,  and 
left  the  rest  to  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror. 

Such  was  the  condition  in  which  this  Carthaginian 
general,  who  a  few  davs  before  had  been  so  proud  and 
haughty,  retired  from  Syracuse.  Bitterly  bewailing 
his  own  fate,  and  still  more  that  of  his  country,  he, 
with  the  most  insolent  fury,  accused  the  gods  as  the 
sole  authors  of  his  misfortunes.  Tlte  enemy,  conti- 
nued he, may  indeed  rejoice  at  our  misery,  but  have  no 
reason  to  glory  in  it.  '  IVe  return  victorious  over  the 
Syracvsans, and  are  defeated  by  the  plagve  alone.  His 
greatest  subject  of  grief,  and  that  which  most  keenly 
distressed  him,  was  his  having  survived  so  many  gal- 
lant soldiers,  who  had  died  in  arms.  But,  added  he, 
tie  sequel  shall  make  it  appear,  whether  it  is  tlirovgh, 
fear  of death,  or  from  the  desire  of leading  back  to  their 
native  country  the  miserable  remains  r>f  my  fellow-citi- 
zens, that  1  have  survived  the  loss  of  so  many  brave 
comrades.  And  in  fact,  on  his  arrival  at  Carthage, 
which  he  found  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  despair, 
he  entered  his  house,  shut  his  doors  against  the  citi- 
zens, and  even  his  own  children;  and  then  gave 
himself  the  fatal  stroke,  in  compliance  with  a  practice 
to  which  the  heathens  falsely  gave  the  name  of 
courage,  though  it  was,  in  reality,  no  other  than  a 
cowardly  despair. 

But  the  calamities  of  this  unhappy  city  did  not  stop 
here;  for  the  Africans,  who  had  ever  borne  an  im- 
placable hatred  to  the  Carthaginians,  but  were  now 
exasperated  to  fury,  because  their  countrymen  had 
been  left  behind,  and  exposed  to  the  murderingsword 
of  the  Syracusans,  assemble  in  the  most  frantic 
manner,  sound  the  alarm,  take  up  arms,  and,  after 
seizing  upon  Tunis,  march  directly  to  Carthage,  to 
the  number  of  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  men. 
The  citizens  now  gave  themselves  up  for  lost.  This 
new  incident  was  considered  by  them  as  the  sad 
effect  of  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  which  pursued  the 
guilty  wretches  even  to  Carthage.  As  its  inhabitants, 
especially  in  all  public  calamities,  carried  their  super- 
stition to  the  greatest  excess,  their  first  care  was  to 
appease  the  offended  gods.  Ceres  and  Proserpine 
were  deities,  who,  till  that  time,  had  never  been  heard 
of  in  Africa.  But  now,  to  atone  for  the  outrage  which 
had  been  done  them  in  the  plundering  of  their  temples, 
magnificent  statues  were  erected  to  their  honour; 
priests  were  selected  from  among  the  most  distinguish- 
ed families  of  the  city;  sacrifices  and  victims,  accord- 
ing to  the  Greek  ritual  (if  I  may  use  that  expression), 
were  offered  up  to  them;  in  a  word  nothing  %vas 
omitted  which  could  be  thought  conducive  in  any 
manner  to  appease  and  propitiate  the  angry  goddesses. 
After  this,  the  defence  of  the  city  was  the'next  object 
of  their  care.  Happily  for  the  Carthaginians,  this 
numerous  army  had  no  leader,  but  was  like  a  body 
uninformed  witli  a  soul,  no  provisions  nor  military 
engines,  no  discipline,  nor  subordination  was  seen 
among  them,  every  man  setting  himself  up  for  a 
general,  or  claiming  an  independence  on  the  rest. 


•  About  61,8001.  English  money. 


84 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


Divisions  therefore  arising  in  this  rabble  of  an  army, 
and  the  famine  increasing1  daily,  the  individuals  of  it 
withdrew  to  their  respective  homes,  and  delivered 
Carthage  from  a  dreadful  alarm. 

The  Carthaginians  were  not  discouraged  by  their 
late  disaster,  but  continued  their  enterprises  on  Sicily. 
Mago,  their  general,  and  one  of  the  Suffetes,  lost  a 
great  battle,  in  which  he  was  slain.  The  Cartha- 
ginian chiefs  demanded  a  peace,  which  was  granted, 
on  condition  of  their  evacuating  all  Sicilv,  and  defray- 
ing- the  expenses  of  the  war.  They  pretended  to 
accept  the  terms;  but  representing  that  it  was  not 
in  their  power,  to  deliver  up  the  cities,  without  first 
obtaining  an  order  from  their  republic,  they  obtained 
so  long  a  truce,  as  gave  them  time  sufficient  for  send- 
ing to  Carthage.  They  took  advantage  of  this  inter- 
yal,  to  raise  and  discipline  new  troops,  over  which 
Mago,  son  of  him  who  had  been  lately  killed,  wa» 
appointed  general.  He  was  very  young,  but  of  great 
abilities  and  reputation.  As  soon  as  ne  arrived  in 
Sicily,  at  the  expiration  of  the  truce  he  gave  Diony- 
sius  battle;  in  which  Leptines,1  one  of  the  generals 
of  the  latter,  was  killed,  and  upwards  of  fourteen 
thousand  Syracusans  left  dead  in  the  field.  By  this 
victory  the  Carthaginians  obtained  an  honourable 
peace,  which  left  them  in  the  possession  of  all  they 
had  in  Sicilv,  with  even  the  addition  of  some  strong 
holds;  besides  a  thousand  talents,2  which  were  paid 
them  towards  defraying  the  expenses  of  the  war. 

About  this  time  a  law  was  enacted  at  Carthage,3 
by  which  its  inhabitants  were  forbid  to  learn  to  write 
or  speak  the  Greek  language;  in  order  to  deprive 
them  of  the  means  of  corresponding  with  the  enemy, 
either  by  word  of  mouth,  or  in  writing.  This  was 
occasioned  by  the  treachery  of  a  Carthaginian,  who 
had  written  in  Greek  to  Dionysius,  to  give  him  ad- 
vice of  the  departure  of  the  army  from  Carthage. 

Carthage  had,  soon  after,  another  calamity  to 
struggle  with.*  The  plague  spread  in  the  city,  and 
made  terrible  havoc.  Panic  terrors,  and  violent  fits 
of  frenzy,  seized  on  a  sudden  the  unhappy  sufferers; 
who  sallying  sword  in  hand  out  of  their  houses,  as  if 
the  enemy  had  taken  the  city,  killed  or  wounded  all 
who  came  in  their  way.  The  Africans  and  Sardini- 
ans would  very  willingly  have  taken  this  opportunity 
to  shake  off  a  yoke  which  was  so  hateful  to  them; 
but  both  were  subjected  and  reduced  to  their  allegi- 
ance. Dioriysius  formed  at  this  time  an  enterprise  in 
Sicilv,  with  the  same  views,  which  was  equally  un- 
successful. He  died  some  tfme  after,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  son  of  the  same  name.5 

We  have  already  taken  notice  of  the  first  treaty 
which  the  Carthaginians  concluded  with  the  Romans. 
There  was  another,  which  according  to  Orosins,  was 
concluded  in  the  402d  year  of  the  foundation  of 
Rome,  and  consequently  about  the  time  we  are  now 
speaking  of.  This  second  treaty  was  very  near  the 
game  with  the  first,  except  that  the  inhabitants  of 
Tyre  and  Utica  were  expressly  comprehended  in  it, 
and  joined  with  the  Carthaginians. 

After  the  death  of  the  elder  Diony- 

A.  M.  3656.  sins,  Syracuse  was  involved  in  great 
A.Carth.498.  troubles.6  Dionysius  the  younger, 
A.  Rom.  400.  who  ha-,1  been  expelled,  restored  him- 
Ant.J.C.  348.  self  by  force  of  arms,  and  exercised 

«  This  Leptines  was  brother  to  Dionysius. 

«  About  20f),000/.     »  Justin.  Ixx.  c.  5.     «  Diod.l.  xr.  p.  344. 

•  This  is  the  Dionysius  who  invited  Plato  to  his  court, 
»nd  who,  bfing  afterwards  offended  with  his  freedom,  sold 
him  for  a  slave.  Some  philosophers  cnme  from  (Jree^e  to 
(Syracuse  in  order  to  redeem  their  brother,  whieh  having 
done,  they  sent  him  home  with  this  useful  lesson;  Thnt 
philosophers  ought  very  rarely,  or  very  obligingly,  to  con- 
verse" with  tyrants.  This  prince  had  learning,  and  affected 
to  pass  for  a  poet;  hut  could  not  gain  that  name  at  the 
Olympic  games,  whitner  he  had  sent  his  verses  to  bo  re- 
rx-ntcd  by  his  brother  Thearides.  Tt  had  been  happy  for 
Oionvsins.  had  the  Athenians  entertained  no  better  an 
opinion  of  bis  poetry;  for,  on  their  pronouncing  him  vic- 
tor, when  his  poems  were  related  in  their  city,  he  was 
raised  to  such  a  transport  of  Joy  and  intemperance,  t!;nt 
both  together  killed  him;  and  thus,  perhaps,  was  verified 
the  prediction  of  the  oracle,  viz.  that  he  should  die  when 
ho  had  overcome  his  betterii. 

«IHod.  l.xvi  p  450—472-  Polyb.l  Hi.  p.  178.  Plu.  in  Tim. 


great  cruelties  there.  One  part  of  the  citizens  rrn 
plored  the  aid  of  Icetes,  Ivrant  of  the  Leontines, 
and  bv  descent  a  Syracusan.  This  seemed  a  ve- 
ry favourable  opportunity  for  the  Carthaginians  to 
seize  upon  all  Sicily,  and  accordingly  they  sent  a 
mighty  fleet  thither.  In  this  extremity,  such  of  the 
Syracusans  as  loved  their  country  best,  had  recourse 
to  the  Corinthians,  who  had  often  assisted  them  in 
their  dangers;  and  were,  besides,  of  all  the  Grecian 
nations,  the  most  professed  enemies  of  tyranny,  and 
the  most  avowed  and  most  generous  assertors  of  li- 
berty. Accordingly, the  Corinthians  sent  overTimo- 
leon,  a  man  of  great  merit,  who  had  signalized  his 
zeal  for  the  public  welfare,  by  freeing  his  country 
from  tyranny,  at  the  expense  of  his  own  family. 
He  set  sail  with  only  ten  ships,  and  arriving-  at 
Rhegium,  he  eluded,  by  a  happy  stratagem,  the  vi- 
gilance of  the  Carthaginians  ;  who  having  been  in- 
formed, by  Iretes,  of  his  voyage  and  design,  wanted 
to  intercept  him  in  his  passage  to  Sicily. 

Timoleon  had  scarce  above  1000  soldiers  under  his 
command  ;  and  yet,  with  this  handful  of  men,  he 
marched  boldly  to  the  relief  of  Syracuse.  His  small 
army  increased  in  proportion  as  he  advanced.  The 
Syracusans  were  now  in  a  desperate  condition,  and 
quite  hopeless.  They  saw  the  Carthaginians  masters 
of  the  port  ;  Icetes  of  the  citv  ;  and  Dionysins  of' 
the  citadel.  Happily  on  TimoJeon's  arrival,  Diony- 
sius, having  no  refuge  left,  put  the  citadel  into  his 
hands,  with  all  the  forces,  arm?,  and  ammunition,  in 
it  ;  and  escaped  by  his  assistance,  to  Corinthj1 
Timoleon  had,  bv  his  emissaries,  artfully  represented 
to  the  foreign  soldiers,  who  (by  that  error  in  the  con- 
stitution of  Carthage  which  we  have  before  taken  no- 
tice of)  formed  the  principal  strength  of  Mago's  army, 
and  the  greatest  part  of  whom  were  Greeks  ;  that  it 
was  astonishing-  to  see  Greeks  using  their  endeavours 
to  make  barbarians  masters  of  Sicily,  from  whence 
they,  in  a  very  little  time,  would  pass  over  into 
Greece.  For  could  they  imagine,  that  the  Cartha- 
ginians were  come  so  far,  with  no  other  view  thr.n  to 
establish  Icetes  tyrant  of  Syracuse  1  Such  discourse! 
being  spread  among  Mago's  soldiers,  gave  this  ge- 
neral very  great  uneasiness  ;  and,  as  he  wanted  only 
a  pretence  to  retire,  he  was  glad  to  have  it  believed, 
that  his  forces  were  going  to  betray  and  desert  him  : 
and  upon  this,  he  sailed  with  his  fleet  out  of  the  har- 
bour, and  steered  for  Carthage.  Icetes,  after  his 
departure,  could  not  hold  out  long  against  the  Co- 
rinthians ;  so  that  they  now  got  entire  possession  of 
the  whole  city. 

Mago,  on  his  arrival  at  Cartha»e,  was  impeached  : 
but  he  prevented  the  execution  of  the  sentence  passed 
upon  him  by  a  voluntary  death.  His  body  was  hung 
upon  a  gallows,  and  exposed  as  a  public  spectacle  to 
the  people.  New  forces  were  levied  at  Carthage,* 
and  a  greater  and  more  powerful  fleet  than  the  for- 
mer was  sent  to  Sicily.  It  consisted  of  two  hundred 
ships  of  war,  besides  a  thousand  transports  ;  and  the 
army  amounted  to  upwards  of  seventy  thousand  men. 
They  landed  at  Lilybwuni,  under  the  command  of 
Hamilcar  and  Hannibal,  and  resolved  to  attack  the 
Corinthians  first.  Timoleon  did  not  wait  for,  but 
marched  out  to  meet  them.  But  such  was  the  con 
sternation  of  Syracuse,  that,  of  all  the  forces  which 
were  in  that  city,  only  three  thousand  Syracusans 
and  four  thousand  mercenaries  followed  him  ;  and 
even  of  these  latter  a  thousand  deserted  upon  the 
march,  through  fear  of  the  danger  they  were  going 
to  encounter.  Timoleon,  however,  was  not  discou- 

*  Here  he  preserved  some  resemblance  of  his  former 
tyranny,  by  turning  schoolmaster;  and  exercising  a  disci- 
pline over  boys,  when  he  could  no  longer  tyrannize  over 
men.  He  bad  learning,  and  was  once  n  scholar  to  Plato, 
whom  he  caused  to  come  again  into  Sicilv,  notwithstanding 
the  nnworthv  treatment  he  had  met  with  from  DionysiusV 
father.  Philip,  king  of  Mnccdon.  meeting  him  in  the  street! 
of  Corinth,  and  asking  him  how  he  came  to  lose  .*>  consi 
derable  a  principality  as  had  been  left  him  by  his  father,  h« 
answered,  that  hig  father  had  indeed  left  him  the  inheri- 
tance, hut  not  the  fortune  which  had  preserved  both  him- 
si-lf  and  thai. — Hawever,  fortune  did  him  no  great  injury, 
in  replacing  him  on  the  dunghill  from  which  sue  had  raised 
his  father.  «  Plu'  p  24«  -25» 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


85 


«ged  ;  but  exhorting1  the  remainder  of  his  forces  to 
exert  themselves  courageously  for  the  safety  and 
liberties  of  their  allies,  he  led  them  against  the  ene- 
my, whose  rendezvous  he  had  bee:i  informed  was 
on  the  banks  of  the  little  river  Crimisus.  It  appeared 
at  the  first  reflection  madness  to  attack  an  army  so 
numerous  as  that  of  the  enemy,  with  only  four  or 
five  thousand  foot,  and  a  thousand  horse  ;  but  Ti- 
moleon,  who  knew  that  bravery  conducted  by  pru- 
dence is  superior  to  number,  relied  on  the  courage  of 
his  soldiers,  who  seemed  resolved  to  die  rather  than 
yiell,  an  I  with  ardour  demanded  to  be  led  against 
th<i  fiiMiiy.  The  event  justified  his  views  and  hopes. 
A  battle  was  fought  ;  the  Carthaginians  were  routed, 
and  upwards  of  ten  thousand  of  them  slain,  full 
three  thousand  of  whom  were  Carthaginian  citi- 
tens,  which  filled  their  city  with  mourning  and  the 
greatest  consternation.  Their  camp  wag  taken,  and 
with  it  immense  riches  and  a  great  number  of  prisoners. 

Timoleon,1  at  the  same  time  t«.at  he  despatched 
the  news  of  this  victory  to  Corinth,  sent  thither  the 
finest  arms  found  among  the  plunder.  For  he  was 
desirous  of  having  his  city  applauded  and  admired 
by  all  men,  when  they  should  see  that  Corinth  alone, 
among  all  t'.ie  Grecian  cities,  adorned  its  finest  tem- 
ples, not  with  the  spoils  of  Greece,  and  offerings 
dyed  in  the  blood  of  its  citizens,  the  sight  of  which 
could  tend  only  to  preserve  the  sad  remembrance  of 
their  losses,  but  with  those  of  barbarians,  which,  by 
fine  inscriptions,  displayed  at  once  the  courage  and 
religious  gratitude  of  those  who  had  won  them.  For 
these  inscriptions  imported,  That  the  Corinthians,  and 
Timoleon  their  general  after  havingfreed  the  Greeks, 
settled  in  Sicily  from  the  Carthaginian  yoke,  had  hung 
vp  these  arms  in  their  temples,  as  an  eternal  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  favour  and  goodness  of  the  gods. 

After  this,  Timoleon,  leaving  the  mercenary  troops 
in  the  Carthaginian  territories  to  waste  and  destroy 
them,  returned  to  Syracuse.  On  his  arrival  there,  he 
banished  the  thousand  soldiers  who  had  deserted  him ; 
and  took  no  other  revenge,  than  the  commanding 
them  to  leave  Syracuse  before  sun-set. 

The  victory  gained  by  the  Corinthians  was  follow- 
ed by  the  capture  of  a  great  many  cities,  which 
obliged  the  Carthaginians  to  sue  for  peace. 

In  proportion  as  the  appearance  of  success  made 
the  Carthaginians  vigorously  exert  themselves  to 
raise  powerful  armies  both  by  land  and  sea,  and  pros- 
perity led  them  to  make  an  insolen-t  and  cruel  use  of 
fictorv;  so  their  couiage  would  sink  in  unforeseen 
adversities,  their  hopes  of  new  resources  vanish,  and 
their  grovelling  souls  condescend  to  ask  quarter  of 
the  most  inconsiderable  enemy,  and  without  sense  of 
•hanie  accept  the  hardest  aud  most  mortifying  condi- 
tions. Thos'e  now  imposed  were,  that  they  should 
possess  only  the  lands  lying  beyond  the  river  Haly- 
cus;2  that  they  should  give  all  the  natives  free  li- 
berty tj  retire  to  Syracuse  with  their  families  and 
etlert-,  and  that  they  should  neither  continue  in  the 
alliance,  nor  hold  any  correspondence,  with  the  ty- 
rants of  that  city. 

About  this  time,  in  all  probability,  there  happened 
at  Carthage  a  memorable  incident,  related  by  Justin.3 
Hanno,  one  of  its  most  powerful  citizens,  formed  a 
design  of  seizing  upon  the  republic,  by  destroying 
the  whole  senate.  lie  chose  for  the  execution  of  this 
bloody  plan,  the  day  on  which  his  daughter  was  to  be 
married,  on  which  occasion  he  designed  to  invite  the 
•enators  to  an  entertainment,  and  there  poison  them 
all.  The  conspiracy  was  discovered;  but  Hanno 
had  such  influence,  that  the  government  did  not  dare 
to  punish  so  execrable  a  crime;  the  magistrates  con- 
tented themselves  with  only  preventing  it,  by  an 
order  which  forba  le,  in  general,  too  great  a  magnifi- 
cence at  weddings,  and  limited  the  expense  on  those 
occasions.  Hanno  seeing  his  stratagem  defeated, 
resolved  to  employ  open  force,  and  for  that  purpose 
armed  all  the  slaves.  However,  he  was  again  dis- 


»  Hut.  p.248— 250. 

•  This  river  is  not  far  from  A»ri?entum.  It  is  called 
lyeux  by  Diodorui  and  Plutarch  ;  but  this  is  thought  a 
Bi*tal«  •  Justin.  1.  «i.  c.  4. 


covered;  and  to  escape  punishment,  r«-.i:red  with 
twenty  thousand  armed  slaves,  to  a  castle  tint  wa> 
very  strongly  fortified;  and  there  endeavoured,  but 
ithout  success,  to  engage  in  his  rebellion  the  Afri- 
n* o""1  the  king  of  Mauritania.  He  afterwards 
was  taKen  prisoner  and  carried  to  Carthage;  where, 
after  being  whipped,  his  eyes  were  put  out,  his  arms 
and  thighs  broken,  he  was  put  to  death  in  presence 
of  the  people,  and  his  body,  all  torn  with  stripes,  was 
hung  on  a  gibbet.  His  children  and  all  his  relations, 
though  they  had  not  joined  in  his  guilt,  shared  in  his 
punishment.  They  were  all  sentenced  to  die,  in  order 
that  not  a  single  person  of  his  family  might  be  left, 
either  to  imitate  his  crime  or  revenge  his  death.  Such 
was  the  temper  of  the  Carthaginians;  ever  severe  and 
violent  in  their  punishments,  they  carried  them  to 
the  extremes  of  rigour,  and  made  them  extend  even 
to  the  innocent,  without  showing  the  least  regard  to 
equity,  moderation,  or  gratitude. 

I  come  now  to  the  wars  sustained 
by  the  Carthaginians,*  in  Africa  it-        A.  M.  3685. 
self    as   well    as    in    Sicily,    against    A.  Garth.  527. 
Agathocles,   which   exercised    their    A.  Rom.    429. 
arms  during  several  years.  Ant.  J.  C.  319. 

This  Agathocles  was  a  Sicilian  of 
obscure  birth  and  low  fortune.5  Supported  at  first 
by  the  forces  of  the  Carthaginians,  he  had  invaded 
the  sovereignty  of  Syracuse,  and  made  himself  tyrant 
over  it.  In  the  infancy  of  his  power,  the  Carthagi- 
nians kept  him  within  bounds;  and  Hamilcar  their 
chief  forced  him  to  agree  to  a  treaty  which  restored 
tranquillity  to  Sicily.  But  he  soon  infringed  the  ar- 
ticles of  it,  and  declared  war  against  the  Carthagi- 
nians themselves;  who,  under  the  conduct  of  Hamil- 
car, obtained  a  signal  victory  over  him,6  and  forced 
him  to  shut  himself  up  in  Syracuse.  The  Cartha- 
ginians pursued  him  thither  and  laid  siege  to  that 
important  city,  the  capture  of  which  would  have 
given  them  possession  of  all  Sicily. 

Agathocles,  whose  forces  were  greatly  inferior  to 
theirs,  and  who  moreover  saw  himself  deserted  by  all 
his  allies,  from  their  detestation  of  his  horrid  cruel- 
ties, meditated  a  design  of  so  daring,  and  to  all  ap- 
pearance, so  impracticable  a  nature,  that  even  after 
being  happily  carried  into  execution,  it  yet  appears 
almost  incredible.  This  design  was  no  less  than  to 
make  Africa  the  seat  of  war,  and  to  besiege  Car- 
thage, at  a  time  when  he  could  neither  defend  him- 
self in  Sicily,  nor  sustain  the  siege  of  Syracuse.  His 
profound  secrecy  in  the  execution  is  as  astonishing 
as  the  design  itself.  He  communicated  his  thoughts 
on  this  affair  to  no  person  whatsoever,  but  contented 
himself  with  declaring,  that  he  had  found  out  an  in- 
fallible way  to  free  the  Syracusans  from  the  danger 
that  surrounded  them;  that  they  had  only  to  endure 
with  patience,  for  a  short  time,  the  inconveniences 
of  a  siege;  but  that  those  who  could  not  bring  them- 
selves to  this  resolution,  might  freely  depart  the  city. 
Only  sixteen  hundred  persons  quitted  it.  He  left  his 
brother  Antander  there,  with  forces  and  provisions 
sufficient  for  him  to  make  a  stout  defence.  He  get 
at  liberty  all  slaves  who  were  of  age  to  bear  arms, 
and,  after  obliging  them  to  take  an  oath,  joined  them 
to  his  forces.  He  carried  with  him  only  fifty  talents* 
to  supply  his  present  wants,  well  assured  that  he 
should  find  in  the  enemy's  country  whatever  was 
necessary  to  his  subsistence.  He  therefore  set  sail 
with  two  of  his  sons,  Archagathus  and  Heraclides 


«  Diod.  I.  xix  p.  651.  656.  Tin.  712.  737.  743.  700.  Justin 
1.  ii.  c.  1—6 

»  Fie  was,  according  to  most  historians,  the  son  of  a  pot- 
ter; but  all  allow  him  to  have  worked  at  ihe  trade.  From 
the  obscurity  of  his  birth  and  condition,  Polybius  raises  an 
argument  to  prove  his  capacity  and  talents,  in  opposition  to 
the  slander*  of  Timsnuc.  But  his  greatest  euloiium  wai 
the  praise  of  Sr.ipio.  That  illustrious  Roman  heini'  asked, 
who,  in  his  opinion,  were  the  must  prudent  in  the  conduc' 
of  their  affairs,  and  most  judiciously  hold  in  the  exMMrtiM 
of  their  designs;  answered,  Agathocles  and  Dionysms 
Pohib.  \.  xv.  p.  lOOrj,  edit.  Gronov  However,  let  his  ca 
pacity  have  been  ever  so  great,  it  was  exceeded  by  his  cru 
elty. 

•  The  hnttle  was  fought  near  the  river  ano  city  of  Himera 

i  50,000  French  crowns,  or  11,250».  iterlin« 


86 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


without  letting  any  one  person  know  whither  he  in- 
tended to  direct  his  course.  All  who  were  on  board 
his  fleet  believed  that  they  were  to  be  conducted 
either  to  Italy  or  Sardinia,  in  order  to  plunder  those 
countries,  or  to  lay  waste  those  coasts  of  S;~;1-  -vhioh 
belonged  to  the  enemy.  The  Carthaginians,  sur- 
prised at  so  unexpected  a  departure,  endeavoured  to 
pre /ent  it;  but  Agathocles  eluded  their  pursuit,  and 
ma.  le  tor  the  main  ocean. 

He  did  not  discover  his  design  till  he  had  landed 
in  Africa.  There,  assembling  his  troops,  he  told 
them,  in  few  words,  the  motive  which  had  prompt- 
ed him  to  this  expedition.  He  represented,  that  the 
only  way  to  free  their  country,  was  to  carry  the  war 
into  the  territories  of  their  enemies:  that  he  led  them, 
who  were  inured  to  war,  and  of  intrepid  dispositions, 
•gainst  a  parcel  of  enemies  who  were  softened  and 
enervated  by  ease  and  luxury:  that  the  natives  of  the 
country,  oppressed  with  the  yoke  of  a  servitude 
equally  cruel  and  ignominious,  would  run  in  crowds 
to  join  them  on  the  first  news  of  their  arrival;  that 
the  boldness  of  their  attempt  would  alone  disconcert 
the  Carthaginians,  who  had  no  expectation  of  seeing 
an  enemy  at  their  gates:  in  short,  that  no  enterprise 
could  possibly  be  more  advantageous  or  honourable 
than  this;  since  the  whole  wealth  of  Carthage  would 
become  the  prey  of  the  victors,  whose  courage  would 
be  praised  and  admired  by  latest  posterity.  The  sol- 
diers fancied  themselves  already  masters  of  Car- 
thage, and  received  his  speech  with  applauses  and 
acclamations.  One  circumstance  alone  gave  them 
uneasiness,  and  that  was  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  which 
happened  just  as  they  were  setting  sail.  In  these 
ages,  even  the  most  civilized  nations  understood  very 
little  the  reason  of  these  extraordinary  phenomena  of 
nature;  and  used  to  draw  from  them  (by  their  sooth- 
sayers) superstitious  and  arbitrary  conjectures,  which 
frequently  would  either  suspend  or  hasten  the  more 
important  enterprises.  However,  Agathocles  reviv- 
ed the  drooping  courage  of  his  soldiers,  by  assuring 
them  that  these  eclipses  always  foretold  some  instant 
change;  that,  therefore,  good  fortune  was  taking  its 
leave  of  Carthage,  and  coming  over  to  them. 

Finding  his  soldiers  in  the  good  disposition  he 
wished  them,  he  executed,  almost  at  the  same  time, 
a  second  enterprise,  which  was  even  more  daring  and 
hazardous  than  his  first,  of  carrying  them  over  into 
Africa;  and  this  was,  the  burning  every  ship  in  his 
fleet.  Many  reasons  determined  him  to  so  desperate 
an  action.  He  had  not  one  good  harbour  in  Africa 
where  his  ships  could  lie  in  safety.  As  the  Cartha- 
einians  were  meters  of  the  sea.  they  would  not  have 
Failed  to  possess  themselves  immediately  of  his  fleet, 
which  was  incapable  of  making  the  least  resistance. 
In  case  he  had  left  as  many  hands  as  were  necessary 
to  defend  it,  he  would  have  weakened  his  army 
(which  was  inconsiderable  at  the  best,)  and  put  ft 
out  of  his  power  to  gain  any  advantage  from  this  un- 
expected diversion,  the  success  of  which  depended 
entirely  on  the  swiftness  and  vigour  of  the  execution. 
Lastly,  he  was  desirous  of  putting  his  soldiers  under 
a  necessity  of  conquering  by  leaving  them  no  other 
refuge  than  victory.  Much  courage  was  necessary 
to  adopt  such  a  resolution.  He  had  already  prepared 
all  his  officers,  who  were  entirely  devoted"  to  his  ser- 
rice,  and  received  every  impression  he  gave  them. 
He  then  came  suddenly  into  the  assembly  with  a 
crown  upon  his  head,  dressed  in  a  magnificent  habit, 
and  with  the  air  and  behaviour  of  a  man  who  was 
eoin°r  to  perform  some  religious  ceremony,  and  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  assembly,  JPTien  we,  says  he, 
left  Si/racitff,  and  were  warmly  pursue  d  hy  the  enemy ; 
in  this  fatal  necessity  I  addressed  myself  to  Ceres  and 
Proserpine,  the  tutelar  divinities  of  Sicily ;  and  prom- 
ised, that  if  they  would  free  us  from  this  imminent  dan- 
ger, I  irc>i:ld  onrn  all  o>ir  ships  in  their  honour,  at  our 
first  landing  here.  Aid  me,  therefore,  O  soldiers,  to 
discharge  my  row  :fir  the  goddesses  caneasilymakt  us 
amendsfor  this  sacrifice.  At  the  same  time,  taking  a 
lainlirau  in  his  han:l,  he  hastily  led  the  \vu.  on 
board  of  his  own  ship,  and  set  it  on  fire.  All  the 
officers  did  the  like,  and  were  cheerfully  followed  by 
the  soldiers.  Ths  trumpets  sounded  from  every 


quarter,  and  the  whole  army  echoed  with  jorfn' 
snouts  and  acclamations.  The  fleet  was  soon  con- 
sumed. The  soldiers  had  not  been  allowed  time  to 
reflect  on  the  proposal  made  to  them.  They  all  had 
been  hurried  on  by  a  blind  and  impetuous  ardour, 
but  when  they  had  a  little  recovered  their  reason, 
and,  surveying  in  their  minds  the  vast  extent  of 
ocean  which  separated  them  from  their  own  country, 
saw  themselves  in  that  of  the  enemy  without  the 
least  resource,  or  any  means  of  escaping  out  of  it;  a 
sad  and  melancholy  silence  succeeded  the  transport 
of  joy  and  acclamations  which,  but  a  moment  before, 
had  been  so  general  in  the  army. 

Here  aga^n  Agathocles  left  no  time  for  reflection. 
He  marched  his  army  towards  a  place  called  the 
Great  City,  which  was  part  of  the  domain  of  Car- 
thage. The  country  through  which  they  marched  to 
this  place,  afforded  the  most  delicious  and  agreeable 
prospect  in  the  world.  On  either  side  were  seen 
large  meads  watered  by  beautiful  streams,  and  co- 
vered with  innumerable  flocks  of  all  kinds  of  cattle; 
country-seats  built  with  extraordinary  magnificence; 
delightful  avenues  planted  with  olive  and  all  sorts  of 
fruit-trees;  gardens  of  a  prodigious  extent,  and  kept 
with  a  care  and  elegance  which  delighted  the  eye. 
This  prospect  reanimated  the  soldiers.  They  march- 
ed full  of  courage  to  the  Great  City,  which  they  took 
sword  in  hand,  and  enriched  themselves  with  the 
plunder  of  it,  which  was  entirely  abandoned  to  them. 
Tunis  made  as  little  resistance ;  and  this  place  was 
not  far  distant  from  Carthage. 

The  Carthaginians  were  in  prodigious  alarm,  when 
it  was  known  that  the  enemy  was  in  the  country 
advancing  by  hasty  marches.  This  arrival  of  Ag-a- 
thocles  made  the  Carthaginians  conclude,  that  theitv. 
army  before  Syracuse  had  been  defeated,  and  their 
fleet  lost.  The  people  ran  in  disorder  to  the  great 
square  of  the  city,  whilst  the  senate  assembled  in 
haste  and  in  a  tumultuous  manner.  Immediately 
they  deliberated  on  the  means  for  preserving  the  city. 
They  had  no  army  in  readiness  to  oppose  the  enemy; 
and  their  imminent  danger  did  not  permit  them  to 
await  the  arrival  of  those  forces  which  might  be 
raised  in  the  country  and  among  the  allies.  It  was 
therefore  resolved,  after  several  different  opinions 
had  been  heard,  to  arm  the  citizens.  The  number  of 
the  forces  thus  levied  amounted  to  forty  thousand 
foot,  a  thousand  horse,  and  two  thousand  armed 
chariots.  Hanno  and  Bomilcar,  though  divided  be- 
twixt themselves  by  some  family  quarrels,  were 
however  joined  in  the  command  of  these  troops.  They 
marched  immediately  to  meet  the  enemy;  and,  on 
sight  of  them,  drew  up  their  forces  in  order  of  battle. 
Agathocles,  had,  at  most,  but  thirteen  or  fourteen 
thousand  men.1  The  signal  was  given,  and  an  ob- 
stinate fight  ensued.  Hanno,  with  his  sacred  cohor* 
(the  flower  of  the  Carthaginian  forces),  long  sus- 
tained the  fury  of  the  Greeks,  and  sometimes  even 
broke  their  ranks;  but  at  last,  overwhelmed  with  a 
shower  of  stones,  and  covered  with  wounds,  he  fell 
dead  on  the  field.  Bomilcar  might  have  changed  t"he 
face  of  things;  but  he  had  private  and  personal  rea 
sons  not  to  obtain  a  victory  for  his  country.  He 
therefore  thought  proper  to  retire  with  the  forces  un 
der  his  command,  and  was  followed  by  the  whole 
army,  which,  by  that  means,  was  forced  to  leave  the 
field  to  Agathocles.  After  pursuing  the  enemy  some 
time,  he  returned  and  plundered  the  Carthaginian 
camp.  Twenty  thousand  pair  of  manacles  were 
found  in  it,  with  which  the  Carthaginians  had  fur- 
nished themselves,  in  the  firm  persuasion  of  their 
taking  many  prisoners.  The  result  of  this  victory 
was  the  capture  of  a  great  number  of  strong-holds, 
and  the  defection  of  many  of  the  natives  of  the  coun- 
try, who  joined  the  victor. 

This  descent  of  Agathocles  into  Africa,  doubtless 


«  Agathocles  wanting  arms  for  many  of  his  soldiers,  pi 
vided   them  with   sui-h  as   were  counterfoil,  wliich   lonke 
well  at  a  distance.     And  perceiving  the  discouragement  hi 
forces  were  under  on  si^'lu  of  the  enemy's  horse,  he  let  fl 
a  great   miny  owls  (privately  procured   for    thai   purpo-' 
which  his  soldiers  interpreted  as  an  omen  and  assurance- 
victory.    Diod.  I.  «.  p.  754. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


87 


gave  birth  to  Scipio's  design  of  making  a  like  at- 
tempt upon  the  same  republic,  and  from  the  same 
place.1  Wherefore,  in  his  answer  to  Fabius,  who 
ascribed  to  temerity  his  design  of  making  Africa  the 
seat  of  the  war,  he  forgot  not  to  mention  the  exam- 
ple of  Agathocles,  as  an  instance  in  favour  of  his 
enterprise;  and  to  show,  that  frequently  there  is  no 
Other  way  to  get  rid  of  an  enemy  who  pressed  too 
closely  upon  us,  than  by  carrying  the  war  into  his 
own  country-;  and  that  men  are  much  more  courage- 
ous when  they  act  upon  the  offensive,  than  when 
they  stand  only  upon  the  defensive. 

While  the  Carthaginians  were  thus  warmly  at- 
tacked by  their  enemies,  ambassadors  arrived  to 
tin-in  from  Tyre.2  Thev  came  to  implore  their  suc- 
cour against  Alexander  the  Great,  who  was  upon  the 
point  of  taking  their  city,  which  he  had  long  besieg- 
ed. The  extremity  to  which  their  countrymen  (for 
so  they  called  them}  were  reduced,  touched  the  Car- 
thaginians as  sensibly  as  their  own  danger.  Though 
they  were  unable  to  relieve,  they  at  least  thought  it 
iheir  duty  to  comfort  them;  and  deputed  thirty  of 
their  principal  citizens,  to  express  their  grief  that 
they  could  not  spare  them  any  troops,  because  of  the 
present  melancholy  situation  of  their  own  affairs. 
The  Tynans,  though  disappointed  of  the  only  hope 
they  had  left,  did  not  however  despond;  they  com- 
mitted their  wives,  children,3  and  old  men,  to  the 
care  of  these  deputies;  and  thus  being  delivered 
from  all  inquietude,  with  regard  to  persons  who  were 
dearer  to  them  than  any  thing  in  the  world,  they 
thought  alone  of  making  a  resolute  defence,  prepar- 
ed for  the  worst  that  might  happen.  Carthage  re- 
ceived this  afflicted  company  with  all  possible  marks 
of  amity,  and  paid  to  guests  who  were  so  dear  and 
worthy  of  compassion,  all  the  services  which  they 
could  have  expectedvfrom  the  most  affectionate  and 
tender  parents. 

Quintus  Curtius  places  this  embassy  from  Tyre  to 
the  Carthaginians  at  the  same  time  that  theSyracusans 
wer*  ravaging  Africa,  and  had  advanced  to  the  very 
gates  of  Cartilage.  But  the  expedition  of  Agathocles 
against  Africa  cannot  agree  in  time  with  the  siege  of 
Tyre,  which  was  more  than  twenty  years  before  it. 

At  the  same  time,  Carthage  was  solicitous  how  to 
extricate  itself  from  the  difficulties  with  which  it  was 
surrounded.  The  present  unhappy  state  of  the  republic 
was  considered  as  the  effect  of  the  wrath  of  thegoas: 
and  it  was  acknowledged  to  be  justly  deserved,  parti- 
cularly with  regard  to  two  deities,  towards  whom  the 
Carthaginians  had  been  remiss  in  the  discharge  of  cer- 
tain duties  prescribed  by  their  religion,  and  which  had 
once  been  observed  with  great  exactness.  It  wag  a 
custom  (coeval  with  the  city  itself)  at  Carthage,  to 
send  annually  to  Tyre  (the  mother-city)  the  tenth  of 
all  the  revenues  of  the  republic,  as  "an  offeringto 
Hercules,  the  patron  and  protector  of  both  cities.  The 
domain  and  consequently  the  revenues  of  Carthage, 
having  increased  considerably,  the  portion,  on  the  con- 
trary, of  the  god,  had  been  lessened;  and  they  were 
far  from  remitting  the  whole  tenth  to  him.  They  were 
seized  with  a  scruple  on  this  point:  they  made  an  open 
and  public  confession  of  their  insincerity  and  sacrile- 
nous  avarice;  and,  to  expiate  their  guilt,  they  sent  to 
Tyre  a  great 
ji*  their  deities 
digious  value. 

Anotherviolation  of  religion,  which  to  theirinhuman 
superstition  stemed  as  flagrant  as  the  former,  gave 
them  no  less  uneasiness.  Anciently,  children  of  the 
best  families  in  Carthage  used  to  be  sacrificed  to  Sa- 
turn. They  now  reproached  themselves  with  having- 
failed  to  pay  to  the  god  the  honours  which  they  thought 
were  due  to  him:  and  with  having  used  fraud  and  dis- 
honest dealing  towards  him,  by  having  substituted,  in 
their  sacrifices,  chil  iren  of  slaves  01  beggars,  bought 
for  that  purpose,  in  the  room  of  those  nobly  born.  To 
expiate  the  guilt  of  so  horrid  an  impiety,  a  sacrifice 


gious  avarice;  and,  to  expiate  their  guilt,  they  sent  to 
Tyre  a  great  number  of  presents,  and  small  shrines 
01"  their  duties,  all  of  gold,  which  amounted  to  a  pro- 


was  made  to  this  blood-thirsty  gid,  of  two  hundred 
children  of  the  first  rank;  and  upwards  of  three  hun 
dred  persons,  through  a  sense  of  this  terrible  neglect, 
offered  themselves  voluntarily  as  victims,  to  pacify,  by 
the  effusion  of  their  blood,  the  wrath  of  the  gods. 

Afterthese  expiations,  expresses  were  despatched  to 
Hamilcar  in  Sicily,  with  the  news  of  what  had  hap- 
pened in  Africa,  and  at  the  same  time,  to  request  im- 
mediate succours.  He  commanded  the  deputies  to  ob- 
serve the  strictest  silence  on  the  subject  of  the  victory 
of  Agathocles;  and  spread  a  contrary  report,  that  ha 
had  been  entirely  defeated,  his  forces  all  cut  off,  and 
his  whole  fleet  taken  by  the  Carthaginians;  and  in 
confirmation  of  this  report,  he  showed  the  irons  of  the 
vessels  pretended  to  be  taken,  which  had  been  care- 
fully sent  to  him.  The  truth  of  this  report  was  not  at 
all  doubted  in  Syracuse;  the  majority  were  for  capitu- 
lating;4 when  a  galley  of  thirty  oars,  built  in  haste 
by  Agathocles,  arrived  in  the  port;  and  through  great 
difficulties  and  dangers  forced  its  way  to  the  besieged. 
The  news  of  Agathocles 's  victory  immediately  flew 
through  tl.e  city,  and  restored  alacrity  and  resolution 
to  the  inhabitants.  Hamilcar  made  a  last  effort  to 
storm  the  city,  but  was  beaten  off  with  loss.  He  then 
raisec  the  siege,  and  sent  five  thousand  men  to  the  re- 
lief of  his  distressed  country.  Sometime  after,  having 
resumed  the  siege,  and  hoping  to  surprise  the  Syracu- 
sans  by  attacking  them  in  the  night,  his  design  was 
discovered;5  and  falling  alive  into  the  enemy's  hands, 
he  was  put  to  death  with  the  most  exquisite  tortures.' 
Hamilcar's  head  was  sent  immediately  to  Agathocles, 
who,  advancing  to  the  enemy's  camp,  threw  it  into  a 
general  consternation,  by  displaying  to  them  the  head 
of  this  general,  which  manifested  the  melancholy  situ- 
ation of  their  affairs  in  Sicily. 

To  these  foreign  enemies  was  joined  a  domestic 
one,7  which  was  more  to  be  feared,  as  being  more 
dangerous  than  the  others;  this  was  Bomilcar  their 
genera!,  who  was  then  in  possession  of  the  first  post  in 
Carthage.  He  had  long  meditated  the  establishment 
of  himself  as  tyrant  at  Carthage,  and  attaining  the 
sovereign  anthority  there;  and  imagined  that  the  pre- 
sent troubles  offered  him  the  wished-for  opportunity. 
He  therefore  entered  the  city,  and  being  seconded  by 
a  small  number  of  "itizens,  who  were  the  accomplice* 
of  his  rebellion,  and  a  body  of  foreign  soldiers,  he  pro- 
cls-imed  himself  tyrant;  and  showed  himself  literally 
such,  by  cutting  the  throats  of  all  the  citizens  whom 
he  met  with  in  the  streets.  A  tumult  arising  immedi- 
ately in  the  city,  it  was  at  first  thought  that  the  enemy 
|  had  taken  it  by  some  treachery;  but  when  it  was 
known  that  Bomilcar  caused  all  this  disturbance,  the 
young  men  took  up  arms  to  repel  the  tyrant,  and  from 
the  tops  of  the  houses  discharged  whole  vollevsofdarte 
and  stones  upon  the  heads  of  the  soldiers.  'When  he 
saw  an  army  marching  in  order  against  him,  he  re- 
tired with  fiis  troops  to  an  eminence,  with  design  to 
make  a  vigorous  defence,  and  to  sell  his  life  as  dear 
as  possible.  To  spare  the  blood  of  the  citizens,  a 
general  pardon  was  proclaimed  for  all  without  ex- 
ception who  would  lay  down  their  arrr.s.  They  sur- 
rendered upon  this  proclamation,  and  all  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  it,  Bomilcar  their  chief  ex^epted:  for  the 
Carthaginians,  without  regarding  their  oath,  con- 
demued  him  to  death,  and  fastened  him  to  a  cross, 
where  he  suffered  the  most  exquisite  torments.  From 
the  cross,  as  from  a  rostrum,  he  harangued  the  peo- 
ple; and  thought  himself  justly  entitled  to  reproach 
them  for  their  injustice,  their  ingratitude,  ana  perfi- 


»  Liv.  I.  xxviii.  n.  -13. 

»  Diud.  1.  xvii.  p.  519.     Quint.  Cart.  I.  !T.  c.  3. 
«  T,V  rl«»«.i  x.i;  >  w>i>u  i- /ui^:;.  come  of  their  wire*  and 
oildu-n      Dud   \.  xvii.  p.  519 


«  And  the  most  forward  of  all  the  rest  was  Antander,  the 
brother  of  Agathocles,  left  commander  in  hig  absence;  who 
was  so  terrified  with  the  report,  that  he  was  easer  for  hairing 
the  city  surrendered;  and  expelled  out  of  it  6000  inhabitant* 
who  were  of  a  contrary  opinion. 

»  Uiod.  p.  767— 76'J.' 

•  He  was  cruelly  tortured  till  he  died,  and  so  met  with  the 
fate  which  hi«  fellow-citizens,  offended  at  his  conduct  in  Si- 
cily, had  probably  allotted  for  him  at  home.  He  \vas  toe 
formidable  to  be  attacked  at  the  head  of  his  army  ;  and 
therefore  the  votes  of  the  senate  (whatever  they  were)  being 
according  to  custom,  cast  into  a  vessel,  it  was  immediately 
endowed,  with  an  order  not  to  uncover  it,  till  he  was  returned 
and  had  thrown  up  his  commission.  Justin  '  xxii.  c.  1. 
I  »  Diod  p  770—731  Justin.  1.  mi.  c.  7. 


88 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS 


dy,  which  he  did  by  enumerating  many  illustrious 
generals,  whose  services  they  had  rewarded  with  an 
ignominious  death.  He  expired  on  the  cross  whilst 
uttering  these  reproaches.1 

Agathocles  had  won  over  to  his  interest  a  powerful 
king  of  Gyrene,  named  Ophelias,2  whose  ambition  he 
had  Mattered  with  the  most  splendid  hopes,  by  leading 
him  to  understand,  that,  contenting  himself  with  Si- 
cily, he  would  leave  to  Ophelias  the  empire  of  Africa. 
But,  as  Agathocles  did  not  scruple  to  commit  the 
most  horrid  crimes  when  bethought  them  conducive 
to  his  interest,  the  credulous  prince  had  no  sooner 
put  himself  and  his  army  in  his  power,  than,  by  the 
blackest  perfidy,  he  caused  him  to  be  murdered,  in 
order  that  Ophellas's  army  might  be  entirely  at  his  de- 
Totion.  Many  nations  were  now  joined  in  alliance 
with  Agathocles,  and  several  strong-holds  were  gar- 
risoned by  his  forces.  As  he  now  saw  the  affairs  of 
Africa  in  a  flourishing  condition,  he  thought  it  proper 
to  look  after  those  of  Sicily;  accordingly  he  sailed 
back  thither,  having  left  the  command  of  the  army  to 
his  son  Archagathus.  His  renown,  and  the  report 
of  his  victories,  flew  before  him.  On  the  news  of  his 
arrival  in  Sicily,  many  towns  revolted  to  him;  but 
bad  news  soon  recalled  him  to  Africa.  His  absence 
had  quite  changed  the  face  of  things;  and  all  his  en- 
deavours were  incapable  of  restoring  them  to  their 
former  condition.  All  his  strong-holds  had  surren- 
dered to  the  enemy;  the  Africans  had  deserted  him; 
some  of  his  troops  were  lost,  and  the  remainder  were 
unable  to  make  head  against  the  Carthaginians:  he 
had  no  way  to  transport  them  into  Sicily,  as  he  was 
destitute  of  ships,  and  the  enemy  were  masters  at 
sea:  he  could  not  hope  for  either  peace  or  treaty 
with  the  barbarians  since  he  had  insulted  them  in  so 
outrageous  a  manner,  by  his  being  the  first  who  had 
dared  to  make  a  descent  in  their  country.  In  this 
extremity,  he  thought  only  of  providing  for  his  own 
safety.  After  many  adventures,  this  base  deserter  of 
his  army,  and  perfidious  betrayer  of  his  own  children, 
who  were  left  by  him  to  the  wild  fury  of  his  disap- 
pointed soldiers,  stole  away  from  the  dangers  which 
threatened  him,  and  arrived  at  Syracuse  with  very 
few  followers.  His  soldiers,  seeing  themselves  thus 
betrayed,  murdered  his  sons,  and  surrendered  to  the 
enemy.  Himself  died  miserably  soon  after,  and 
ended,  by  a  cruel  death,3  a  life  that  had  been  polluted 
with  the  blackest  crimes. 

In  this  period  may  be  placed  another  incident  rela- 
ted by  Justin.4  The  fame  of  Alexander's  conquests 
made  the  Carthaginians  fear  that  he  might  think  of 
turning  his  arms  towards  Africa.  The  disastrous  fate 
of  Tyre,  whence  they  drew  ineir  origin,  and  which  he 
had  so  lately  destroyed;  the  building  of  Alexandria 
upon  the  confines  of  Africa  and  Egypt,  as  if  he  intended 
it  as  a  rival  city  to  Carthage;  the  uninterrupted  suc- 
cesses of  that  prince,  whose  ambition  and  good  fortune 
were  boundless;  all  this  justly  alarmed  the  Cartha- 
ginians. To  sound  his  inclinations,  Hamilcar,  sur- 
name;! Rhodanus,  pretending  to  have  been  driven 
from  his  country  by  the  cabals  of  his  enemies,  went 
over  to  the  camp  of  Alexander,  to  whom  he  was 
introduced  by  Parmenio,  and  offered  him  his  services. 
The  king  received  him  graciously,  and  had  several 
conferences  with  him.  Hamilcar  did  not  fail  to  trans- 
mit to  his  country  whatever  discoveries  he  made 
from  time  to  time  of  Alexander's  designs.  Never- 

«  It  would  seem  incredible  that  any  man  could  so  far  tri- 
ntnpli  over  the  pains  of  the  cross,  as  to  talk  with  any  co- 
herent in  his  discourse;  had  not  Seneco  assured  us, "that 
•ome  have  *o  far  despised  and  insulted  its  tortures,  that  they 
tpil  contempt uou*ly  upon  the  spectators.  Qiurlam  fr  pitti- 
iii/o  .siios  spectator**  eonspuerunt.  De  vita  beata.  c.  19. 

»  Diixl.  p.  777.  77:1.  7:11.  c(fcJ.     Justin.  1.  xxii.  c.  7,  8. 

•  He  was  poisoned  by  one  Mawon,  whom  he  hud  umia- 
turallv  abused.  Mis  teeth  wore  putrefied  hy  the  violence  of 
the  poison,  and  his  body  tortured  nil  over  with  the  most 
racking  pains.  Ms-non  was  excited  !o  this  deed  by  Areha- 
pathin,  »rand«onof  Apathetic*,  whom  he  designed  to  defeat 
•>f  the  succession,  in  favour  of  his  other  »on  Affathocles. 
Before  his  death,  he  restored  the  democracy  to  the  people. 
It  ig  observable,  that  Justin,  (or  rather  Troffus)  and  Diodurui 
disagree  in  nil  the  material  pur*,  uf  lhi«  tjrant'i  hutory. 
lustiu  I.  ixi.  c.  Q. 


theless,  on  his  return  to  Carinage,  after  Alexander*! 
death,  he  was  considered  as  a  betrayer  of  his  country 
to  that  prince;  and  accordingly  was  put  to  death  by 
a  sentence  which  displayed  equally  the  ingratitude 
and  cruelty  of  his  countrymen. 

I  am  now  to  speak  of  the  wars  of 
the  Cathaginians  in  Sicily,5  in  the  A.  M.  372? 
time  of  Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epirus.  A.  Carth.  565 
The  Romans,  to  whom  the  designs  A.  Rom.  471 
of  that  ambitious  prince  were  not  Ant.  J.  C.  277 
unknown,  in  order  to  strengthen 
themselves  against  any  attempts  he  might  make  upon 
Italy,  had  renewed  their  treaties  with  the  Carthagi- 
nians who,  on  their  side,  were  no  less  afraid  of  nit 
crossing  into  Sicily.  To  the  articles  of  the  preceding 
treaties,  there  was  added  an  engagement  of  mutual 
assistance,  in  case  either  of  the  contracting  powers 
should  be  attacked  by  Pyrrhus. 

The  foresight  of  the  Romans  was  well  founded;* 
Pyrrhus  turned  his  arms  against  Italy  and  gained 
many  victories.  The  Carthaginians,  in  consequence 
of  the  last  treaty,  thought  themselves  obliged  to  assist 
the  Romans;  and  accordingly  sent  them  a  tltet  of 
six-score  sail,  under  the  command  of  Mago.  This 
general,  in  an  audience  before  the  senate,  signified  to 
them  the  interest  which  his  superiors  took  in  the  war 
which  they  heard  was  carrying  on  against  the  Ro- 
mans, and  offered  them  their  assistance.  The  senate 
returned  thanks  for  the  obliging  offer  ot  the  Carthagi- 
nians, but  at  present  thought  fit  to  decline  it. 

Mago7  some  days  after  repaired  to  Pyrrhus,  upon 
pretence  of  offering  the  mediation  of  Carthage  for 
terminating  his  quarrel  with  the  Romans :  but  in  reality 
to  sound  him,  and  discover,  if  possible,  his  designs 
with  regard  to  Sicily,  which  common  fame  reported 
he  was  going  to  invade.  The  Carthaginians  were 
afraid  that  either  Pyrrhus  or  the  Romans  would  inter- 
fere in  the  affairs  of  that  island  and  transport  force* 
ttiither  for  the  conquest  of  it.  And,  indeed,  the  Syra- 
cusans,  who  had  been  besieged  for  some  time  by  the 
Carthaginians,  had  sent  pressingly  for  succour  to  Pvr- 
rhus.  This  prince  had  a  particular  reason  to  espouse 
their  interests,  having  married  Lanassa  daughter  of 
Agathocles,  by  whom  he  had  a  son  named  Alexander. 
He  at  last  sailed  from  Tarentnm,  passed  the  strait, 
and  arrived  in  Sicily.  His  conquests  at  first  woe  so 
rapid,  that  he  left  the  Carthaginians,  in  the  whole 
island,  only  the  single  town  of  Lily  baeum.  He  laid. 
siege  to  it,  but  meeting  with  a  vigorous  resistance 
was  obliged  to  raise  the  siege;  not  to  mention  that  the 
urgent  necessity  of  his  aflairs  called  him  back  to  Italy 
where  his  presence  was  absolutely  necessary.  IVor 
was  it  Jess  so  in  Sicily,  which  on  his  departure  return- 
ed to  the  obedience  of  its  former  masters.  Thus  he 
lost  this  island  with  the  same  rapidity  that  he  had  won 
it.  As  he  was  embarking,  he  turned  his  eyes  back  to 
Sicily, and  exclaimed  to  those  about  him,  JVl.al  ajine 
field  of  battle*  do  we  leave  to  the  Carthaginians  and 
Romans!9  His  prediction  was  soon  verified. 

After  his  departure,  the  chief  magistrncv  of  Syra- 
cuse was  conferred  on  Hiero.who  afterwards  obtained 
the  name  and  dignity  of  king,  bv  the  united  suffrages 
of  the  citizens;  so  greatly  had  his  government 
pleased.  .He  was  appointed  to  carrv  on  the  war 
against  the  Carthaginians,  and  obtaine'd  several  ad- 
vantages over  them.  But  now  a  common  interest 
re-united  them  against  a  new  enemy,  who  begun  to 
appear  in  Sicily,  and  jnstlv  alarmed  both:  these 
were  the  Romans,  who,  having  crushed  all  the  ene- 
mies which  had  hitherto  exercised  their  arms  in  Italy 
itself,  were  now  powerful  enough  to  carrv  them  out 
of  it;  and  to  lav  the  foundation  of  that  vnst  power 
there  to  which  they  afterwards  attained,  and  of  which 


•  Polyb.  1.  iii.  p.  250,  edit.  Grono». 

•  Justin.  1.  xviii.  c.  2.  '  Ibid. 

•  ''O.«»  •*«Xtir«pfr,  w  C/Xei,  Kxpx»?-.vi'ei;  x-i  Pru»ui( 
waVaxrrfa,,.     The  Greek  expression  is  beautiful.      IndeoJ 
Sicily  was  a  kind  of  Palo-stra.  where  the  Carthaginians  and 
Romans  exercised   themselves  in  uar,  and   for  many  \^nri 
seemed  to  play  the  part  of  wr>  <tlnr<  with  rnch  other.      Tkt 
tiny  link  lantrnas-e.  as  well  as  the  trench,  lias  110  Kurd  to  a 
press  the  Greek  term. 

•  Plut.  iu  Pyrrh.  p.  398. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


89 


it  wa,t  pr  bable  they  had  even  then  formed  the  design. 
Sicily  lay  too  commodious  for  them,  not  to  form  a 
resoldtion  of  establishing  themselves  in  it.  They 
therefore  eagerly  snatched  this  opportunity  for  cross- 
ing into  it,  which  caused  the  rupture  between  them 
aiui  the  Carthaginians,  and  gave  rise  to  the  first  Pu- 
nic war.  This  I  shall  treat  of  more  at  large,  by  re- 
lating the  causes  of  that  war. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FHE  HISTORY  OF  CARTHAGE,  FROM  THE  FIRST  PUNIC 
WAR  TO  ITS   DESTRUCTION. 

THE  plan  which  I  have  laid  down,  does  not  allow 
eae  to  enter  into  an  exact  detail  of  the  wars  between 
Rome  and  Carthage;  since  that  pertains  rather  to 
the  Romun  history,  which  I  do  not  intend  to  touch 
upon  except  transiently  and  occasionally.  I  shall 
therefore  relate  such  facts  only,  as  may  give  the  reader 
a  just  idea  of  the  republic  whose  history  lies  before 
IIH;  ;  by  confining  myself  to  those  particulars  which  re- 
|<;te  chiefly  to  the  Carthaginians,  and  to  their  most 
important  transactions  in  Sicily,  Spain,  and  Africa; 
a  subject  in  itself  sufficiently  extensive. 

I  have  already  observed,  that  from  the  first  Punic 
war  to  the  ruin  of  Carthage,  a  hundred  and  eighteen 
years  elapsed.  This  whole  time  may  be  divided  into 
0  /e  parts  or  intervals. 

I.  Tl>e  first  Punic  war  lasted  twenty-four 

years 24 

11.  The  interval  betwixt  the  first  and  second 

Punic  war,  is  also  twenty-four  years        24 
1  I.  The  second  Punic  war  took  up  seventeen 

years 17 

IV.  The  interval    between   the  second   and 

third,  is  forty-nine  years    ...       49 
V.  The  third  Punic  war,  terminated  by  the 
destruction  of  Carthage,  continued  but 
four  years  and  some  months.         .         .        4 

118 

ARTICLE   1.      THE   FIRST  PUNIC   WAR. 

THE  first  Punic  war  arose  from 
A.  M.  3724.  the  following  cause.  Some  Campa- 
^.  Carth.  566.  nian  soldiers,  in  the  service  of  Aga- 
i.  Rom.  468.  thocles,1  the  Sicilian  tyrant,  having 
^.nt.  J.  C.  280.  entered  as  friends  into  Messina,  soon 
after  murdered  part  of  the  townsmen, 
Irove  out  the  rest,  married  their  wives,  seized  their 
'.fleets,  and  remained  sole  masters  of  that  important 
;ity.  Thev  then  assumed  the  name  of  Mamer- 
'ines.  In  imitation  of  them,  and  by  their  assistance, 
*  Roman  legion  treated  in  the  same  cruel  manner  the 
city  of  Rhegium,2  lying  directly  opposite  to  Messina 
on  the  other  side  of  the  strait.  These  two  perfidious 
cities,  supporting  one  another,  rendered  themselves 
at  length  tormidable  to  their  neighbours;  and  especi- 
ally Messina,  which  became  very  powerful,  and  gave 
great  umbrage  and  uneasiness  both  to  the  Syrarusans 
and  Carthaginians,  who  possessed  one  part  of  Sicily. 
As  soon  as  the  Romans  had  got  rid  of  the  enemies  they 
cad  so  long  contended  with,  and  particularly  of  Pyr- 
rhus,  they  began  to  think  of  punishing  the  crime  of 
Iheir  citizens,  who  had  settled  themselves  at  Rhegium, 
n  so  i-ruel  and  treacherous  a  manner,  nearly  ten  years 
•efore.  Accordingly,  they  took  the  city,  and  killed, 
n  the  attack,  the  greatest  part  of  the  inhabitants, 
who,  instigated  by  despair,  had  fought  to  the  last 
£asp:  thne  hundred  only  were  left,  who  were  carried 
to  Ronu.,  whipped,  and  then  publicly  beheaded  in  the 
forum.  The  view  which  the  Romans  had  in  making 
this  bloody  execution,  was  to  prove  to  their  allies 
their  own  sincerity  and  innocence.  Rhegium  was 
Immediately  restored  to  its  l.nvfnl  possessors.  The 
Mamrrtiius  who  were  considerably  weakened,  as 
well  by  the  ruin  of  their  confederate  city,  as  bv  the 
losses  which  they  had  sustained  from  the  Syracusans, 


»  Pnlyb.  I.  i.  p.  7.  e.lit.  Gronov.        *  Reggio  .n  Calabria. 
VOL.  l.—l-J. 


who  had  lately  placed  Hiero  at  their  head,  thought  it 
time  to  provide  for  their  own  safety.  But  divisions 
arising  among  them,  one  part  surrendered  the  citadel 
to  the  Carthaginians,  whilst  the  others  called  in  the 
Romans  to  their  assistance,  and  resolved  to  put  them 
in  possession  of  their  city. 

The  affair  was  debated  in  the  Roman  senate, 
where,  being  considered  in  all  its  lights,  it  appeared 
to  have  some  difficulties.3  On  one  hand  it  was 
thought  base,  and  altogether  unworthy  of  the  Roman 
virtue,  for  them  to  undertake  openly  the  defence  of 
traitors,  whose  perfidy  was  exactly  the  same  with 
that  of  the  Rhegians,  whom  the  Romans  had  recent- 
ly punished  with  so  exemplary  a  severity.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  was  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  stop 
the  progress  of  the  Carthaginians,  who,  not  satisfied 
with  their  conquests  in  Africa  and  Spain,  had  also 
made  themselves  masters  of  almost  all  the  islands  of, 
the  Sardinian  and  Hetrurian  seas;  and  would  cer- 
tainly get  all  Sicily  into  their  hands,  if  they  should 
be  suffered  to  possess  themselves  of  Messina.  From 
thence  into  Italy,  the  passage  was  very  short;  and  it 
was  in  some  manner  to  invite  an  enemy  to  come  over, 
to  leave  the  entrance  open.  These  reasons,  though  so 
strong,  could  not  prevail  with  the  senate  to  declare  in 
favour  of  the  Mamertines;  and  accordingly,  motives 
of  honour  and  justice  prevailed  in 
this  instance  over  those  of  interest  A.  M.  3741. 
and  policy.  But  the  people  were  not  A.  Carth.  583. 
so  scrupulous;*  for,  in  an  assembly  A.  Rom.  485. 
held  on  this  subject,  it  was  resolved  Ant.  J.  C.  263. 
that  the  Mamertines  should  be  as- 
sisted. The  consul  Appius  Claudius  immediately 
set  forward  with  his  army,  and  boldly  crossed  the 
strait,  after  he  .had,  by  an  ingenious  stratagem,  eluded 
the  vigilance  of  the  Carthaginian  general.  The  Car- 
thaginians, partly  by  art  and  partly  by  force,  were 
driven  out  of  the  citadel;  and  the  city  w?.s  surrendered 
immediatfly  to  the  consul.  The  Carthaginians  hang- 
ed their  general,  for  having  given  up  the  citadel  in  so 
cowardly  a  manner,  and  prepared  to  besiege  the  town 
with  all  their  forces.  Hitro  joined  them  with  his 
own.  But  the  consul  having  defeated  them  separate- 
ly, raised  the  siege,  and  laid  waste  at  pleasure  the 
neighbouring  country,  the  enemy  not  daring  to  face 
him.  This  was  the  first  expedition  which  the  Romans 
made  out  of  Italy. 

It  is  doubted,5  whether  the  motives  which  prompt- 
ed the  Romans  to  undertake  this  expedition  were 
very  upright,  and  exactly  conformable  to  the  rules  of 
strict  justice.  Be  this  as  it  may,  their  passage  into 
Sicily,  and  the  succour  they  gave  to  the  inhabitants 
of  Messina,  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  first  step 
by  which  they  ascended  to  that  height  of  glory  and 
grandeur  which  they  afterwards  attained. 

Hiero,6  having  reconciled  himself  to  the  Romans, 
and  entered  into  an  alliance  with  them,  the  Cartha- 
ginians bent  all  their  thoughts  on  Sicily,   and    sent 
numerous  armies   thither.     Agrigen- 
tum  was  their  place  of  arms;  which       A.  M.  3743. 
being  attacked  by  the  Romans,  was     A.  Rom.  487. 
won  by  them,  after  they  had  besieged 
it  seven  months,  and  gained  one  battle. 

Notwithstanding  the  advantage  of  this  victory,' 
and  the  conquest  of  so  important  a  city,  the  Romans 
were  sensible,  that  whilst  the  Carthaginians  should 
continue  masters  at  sea,  the  maritime  places  in  the 
island  would  always  side  with  them,  and  put  it  out 
of  their  power  ever  to  drive  them  out  of  Sicily.  Be- 
sides, they  saw  with  reluctance  A  frica  enjoy  a  pro- 
found tranquillity,  at  a  time  that  Italy  was  infested 
by  the  frequent  incursions  of  its  enemies.  They  novi 
first  formed  the  design  of  having  a  fleet,  and  of  dis- 
puting the  empire  of  the  sen  with  the  Carthaginians. 
The  undertaking  was  bold,  and  in  outward  appear- 
ance rash;  but  it  evinces  the  courage  and  mag- 
nanimity of  the  Romans.  Thev  were  not  at  thai 
time  possessed  of  a  single  vessel  which  they  could 


>  Polyb.  I   i.  p.  12—15.  edit.  Gronov.  «  F-i.niin. 

•  The  Chevalier  Folard  examines  thin  auestion  in  Ms  r 
marks  U|xm  Pnlyhia*.  I.  i.  p.  10. 
«  Polyb.  1.  i.  p.  15—19  «  I  .  p.  90. 

•f 


yo 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


call  lhe;r  own;  and  the  ships  which  had  transported 
their  forces  into  Sicily  had  been  borrowed  ol  their 
neighbours.  They  were  inexperienced  in  sea-art'a'n>, 
had  no  carpenters  acquainted  with  the  building  of 
ships,  and  did  not  know  even  the  shape  ol"  the  quin- 
querenies,  or  galleys  with  five  benches  of  oars,  in 
which  the  chief  strength  of  fleets  at  that  time  con- 
sisted. But  happily,  the  year  before,  one  had  been 
taken  upon  the  coast  of  Italy,  which  served  them  as 
a  model.  They  therefore  applied  themselves  with 
incredible  industry  and  ardour  to  the  building  of  ships 
in  the  same  form;  and  in  the  mean  time  they  got  to- 
gether a  set  of  rowers,  who  were  taught  an  exercise 
and  discipline  utterly  unknown  to  them  before,  in  the 
following  majiner.  Benches  were  made  on  the  shore, 
in  the  same  order  and  fashion  with  those  of  galleys. 
The  rowers  were  seated  on  these  benches,  and  taught, 
as  if  they  had  been  furnished  with  oars,  to  throw 
themselves  backwards  with  their  arms  drawn  to  their 
breasts;  and  then  to  throw  their  bodies  and  arms 
forward  in  one  regular  motion,  the  instant  their  com- 
manding officer  gave  the  signal.  In  two  months, 
one  hundred  galleys  of  five  benches  of  oars,  and 
twenty  of  three  benches  were  built;  and  after  some 
time  had  been  spent  in  exercising  the  rowers  on  ship- 
board, the  fleet  put  to  sea,  and  went  in  quest  of  the 
enemy.  The  consul  Duillius  had  the  command  of  it. 
The  Romans  coming  up  with  the 

A.  M.  3745.  Carthaginians  near  the  coast  of  My  I.e. 
A.  Rom.  489.  they  prepared  for  an  engagement.1 
As  the  Romans  galleys,  by  their  being 
clumsily  and  hastily  built,  wtre  neither  nimble  nor 
easy  to  work;  this  inconvenience  was  supplied  by  a 
machine  invented  for  this  occasion,  and  afterwards 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Corvus^  (Crow  or  Crane) 
by  the  help  of  which  they  grappled  the  enemy's  ships, 
boarded  them,  and  immediately  came  to  close  en- 
gagement. The  signal  for  fighting  was  given.  The 
Carthaginian  fleet  consisted  of  a  hundred  and  thirty 
sail,  under  the  command  of  Hannibal.3  He  himself 
was  on  board  a  galley  of  seven  benches  of  oars, 
which  had  once  belonged  to  Pyrrhus.  The  Cartha- 
gininans,  thoroughly  despising  enemies  who  were  ut- 
terly unacquainted  with  sea-affairs,  imagined  that 
their  very  appearance  would  put  them  to  flight,  and 
therefore  came  forward  boldly,  with  little  expectation 
of  fighting;  but  firmly  imagining  they  should  reap 
the  spoils,  which  they  had  already  devoured  with 
their  eyes.  They  were  nevertheless  a  little  surprised 
at  the  sight  of  the  above-mentioned  engines  raistd 
on  the  prow  of  every  one  of  the  enemy's  ships,  and 
which  were  entirely  new  to  them.  But  their  aston- 
ishment increased,  when  they  saw  these  engjnes  drop 
down  at  once;  and  being  thrown  forcibly  into  their 
vessels,  grappled  them  in  spite  of  all  resistance. 
This  changed  the  form  of  the  engagement,  and  obliged 
the  Carthaginians  to  come  to  close  engagement  with 
their  enemies,  as  though  they  had  fought  them  on 
land.  They  were  unable  to  sustain  the  attack  of  the 
Romans:  a  horrible  slaughter  ensued;  and  the  Car- 
thaginians lost  fourscore  vessels,  among  which  was 
the  admiral's  galley,  he  himself  escaping  with  diffi- 
culty in  a  small  boat. 

So  considerable  and  unexpected  a  victory  raised 
the  courage  of  the  Romans,  and  seemed  to  redouble 
their  vigour  for  the  continuance  of  the  war.  Extraor- 
dinary honours  were  bestowed  on  the  consul  Duillius 
who  was  the  first  Roman  that  had  a  naval  triumph 
decreed  him.  A  rostral  pillar  was  erected  in  his  ho- 
nour, with  a  noble  inscription;  which  pillar  is  yet 
•tending  in  Rome.4 

During  the  two  following  years,  the  Romans  grew 
ttill  stronger  at  sea,  by  their  success  in  several  engage- 
ments." But  these  were  considered  by  them  only  as 
essays  preparatory  to  the  great  design  they  meditated 
of  carrying  the  war  into  Africa,  and  of  combating 
the  Carthaginians  ill  their  own  country.  There  was 


«  Polvb.  1.  i.  p.  22.  »  Ib:d. 

•  A  different  person  from  the  great  Hannibal. 

•  These  pillars  wen  culled   Rozlratr,  from    the  beaks  of 
J.ips  with  whi.-h  t  hex  were  adorned;  Rostra. 

«  Po"vb.  i.  i.  p.  24. " 


nothing  the  latter  dreaded  more;  and  to  div?t  to 
dangerous  a  blow,  they  resolved  to  fight  the  er»imy, 
whatever  might  be  the  consequence. 

The  Romans  had  elected  M. 
Atilius  Regulus,  and  L.  Manlius,  A.  M.  3749. 
consuls  for  this  year.6  Their  fleet  A.  Rom.  493. 
consisted  of  three  hunt! red  and  thirty- 
vessels,  on  board  of  which  were  one  hundred  and  forty 
thousand  men,  each  vessel  having  three  hundred 
rowers,  and  a  hundred  and  twenty  soldiers.  That  of 
the  Carthaginians,  commanded  by  Har.no  and  Ha- 
milcar,  had  twenty  vessels  more  than  the  Romans, 
and  a  greater  number  of  men  in  proportion.  The 
two  fleets  came  in  sight  of  each  other  near  Ecnomos 
in  Sicily.  Ao  man  could  behold  two  sue!)  formidable 
navies,  or  be  a  spectator  of  the  extraordinary  prepa- 
rations they  made  for  fighting,  without  being  under 
some  concern,  on  seeing  the  danger  which  menaced 
two  of  the  most  powerful  states  in  the  \voild.  As  the 
courage  on  both  sides  was  equal,  and  no  great  dis- 
parity in  the  forces,  the  fight  was  obstinate  and  the 
victory  long  doubtful;  but  at  last,  the  Carthaginians 
were  overcome.  More  than  sixty  of  their  ships  were 
taken  by  the  enemy,  and  thirty  sunk.  The  Romans 
lost  twenty-four,  not  one  of  which  ftll  into  the  ene- 
my's hands. 

The  fruit  of  this  victory,7  as  the  Romans  had  de- 
signed it,  was  their  sailing  to  Africa,  after  having 
fitted  their  ships,  and  provided  them  with  all  neces- 
saries for  carrying  on  a  long  war  in  a  foreign  country. 
They  landed  happily  in  Africa,  and  began  the  war  bj 
taking  a  town  called  Clypea,8  which  had  a  commo- 
dious haven.  From  thence,  after  having  sent  an  ex- 
press to  Rome,  to  give  advice  of  their  landing,  and  to 
receive  orders  from  the  senate,  thev  overran  the  open 
country,  in  which  they  made  terrible  havoc;  bringing 
away  whole  flocks  of  cattle,  and  20,000  prisoners. 

The  express  returned  in  the  mean 
time  with  the  orders  of  the  senate,  A.  M.  3750. 
who  decreed  that  Regulus  should  A.  Rom.  494. 
continue  to  command  the  armies  in 
Africa,  with  the  title  of  Proconsul;  and  that  his  col- 
league should  return  with  a  great  part  of  the  fleet  and 
the  forces;  leaving  Regulus  only  forty  vessels,  15,000 
foot,  and  500  horse.  Their  leaving  the  latter  with  sc 
few  ships  and  troops,  was  a  visible  renunciation  of  the 
advantages  which  might  have  been  expected  from  this 
descent  upon  Africa. 

The  people  at  Rome  depended  greatly  on  the 
courage  and  abilities  of  Regulus;  and  the  joy  was 
universal,  when  it  was  known  that  he  was  continued 
in  the  command  in  Africa;  he  alone  was  a/Fueled  on 
that  account.9  When  news  was  brought  him  of  it, 
he  wrote  to  Rome,  and  desired,  in  the  strongest 
terms,  that  he  might  be  appointed  a  successor,  nit 
chief  reason  was,  that  the  death  of  the  farmer  who 
rented  his  grounds,  having  given  one  of  his  hirelings 
an  opportunity  of  carrying  off  all  the  in)|ileim  nts  of 
tillage,  his  presence  was  necessary  for  taking  rare  of 
his  little  spot  of  ground  (but  seven  acres',  which  was 
all  his  family  subsisted  upon.  But  the  stnatr  under- 
took to  have  his  lands  cultivated  at  the  public  ex- 
pense; to  maintain  his  wife  and  children;  and  to 
indemnify  him  for  the  loss  he  had  sustained  by  the 
robbery  of  his  hireling.  Thrice  happy  age!  in  which 
poverty  was  thus  had  in  honour,  and  was  uniud  with 
the  most  rare  and  uncommon  merit,  and  the  highest 
employments  of  the  state!  Regulus,  thus  freed  from 
his  domestic  cares,  bent  his  whole  thoughts  on  dis- 
charging the  duty  of  a  general. 

After  taking  several  castles,10  he  laid  siege  to  Adis, 


•  Ibid.  I.  i.  p.  25.  '  Ibid.  p.  30. 

•  [Clypea   was  a  small  town  situated  on  the  litile  pro- 
montory Tnphilis,  five  leasues  8.  E.  of  Cape  Bonn.     This 
small    promontory,  being   rounded    like  a  shield    or   hemi- 
sphere,  save  rise  to  the  name  Clypea.  from  clyjx'us  a  shield. 
By  Livy,  Mela,  and   Pliny  it  is  called  Clupea  :   t>v   rV.lvhiui, 
Appian,  and  Araihemeru*.  Aspis  ;  hut  by  S  >linus  and  the 
Itinerary,  Clypea      A   mile   distant    from  this  spot   where 
iiiirt?  Clypea  stood.  U  a  collection  of  huts  or  cottages  called 
by  the  inhabitants  Clybea.     Ptolemy  is  mistaken  in  making 
Aspnand  Clypea  twodifferent  cities.] 

•  Vul.  Max.  1.  iv.  c.  4.  »«  Pol)  b  I.  i.  p.  31—36 


HISTORY  OP   THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


91 


jne  of  the  strongest  fortresses  of  the  country.  The 
Carthaginians,  exasperated  at  seeing  thtir  enemies 
Ihus  laving  waste  their  lands  at  pleasure,  at  last  took 
the  field,  and  marched  against  them,  to  force  them  to 
raise  the  siege.  With  this  view,  they  posted  them- 
selves on  a  hill,  which  overlooked  the  Roman  camp, 
and  was  convenient  for  annoying  the  enemy ;  but  at 
the  same  time,  by  its  situation,  rendered  one  part  of 
their  army  useless.  For  the  strength  of  the  Cartha- 
ginians lay  chiefly  in  their  horses  and  elephants, 
which  are  of  no  service  but  in  plains.  Regulus  did 
not  give  them  an  opportunity  of  descending  from  the 
bill;  but,  in  order  to  take  advantage  of  this  essential 
mistake  of  the  Carthaginian  generals,  fell  upon  them 
in  this  sjot;  and  after  meeting  with  a  feeble  resist- 
ance, put  the  enemy  to  flight,  plundered  their  camp, 
and  laid  waste  the  adjacent  country.  Then,  having 
taken  Tunes,'  an  important  city  and  which  brought 
him  near  Carthage,  he  made  his  auny  encamu  there. 

The  enemy  were  in  the  utmost  alarm.  All  things 
had  succeeded  ill  with  them,  their  forces  had  been 
defeated  by  sea  and  land,  and  upwards  of  two  hun- 
dred towns  had  surrendered  to  the  conqueror.  Be- 
sides, the  IVumidians  made  greater  havoc  in  their 
territories  than  even  the  Romans.  They  expected 
every  moment  to  see  their  capital  besieged.  And 
their  affliction  was  increased  bv  the  concourse  of 
peasants  with  their  wives  and  children,  who  Hocked 
from  all  parts  to  Carthage  for  safety;  which  gave 
them  melancholv  apprehensions  of  a  famine  in  case  of 
a  siege.  Regulus,  afraid  of  having  the  glory  of  his 
victory  torn  from  him  by  a  successor,  made  some  pro- 
posal of  an  accommodation  to  the  vanquished  enemy; 
but  the  conditions  appeared  so  hard,  that  they  could 
not  listen  to  them.  As  he  did  not  doubt  his  being 
soon  master  of  Carthage,  he  would  not  abate  any 
thing  in  his  demands;  but,  by  an  infatuation  which  is 
almost  inseparable  from  great  and  unexpected  success, 
he  treated  them  with  haughtiness;  and  pretended, 
that  every  thing  he  suffered  them  to  possess,  ought  to 
be  esteemed  a  favour;  adding  this  farther  insult, 
That  they  ought  either  to  overcome  like  brave  men,  or 
learn  to  submit  to  the  victor.2  So  harsh  and  dis- 
dainful a  treatment  only  fired  their  resentment;  and 
they  resolved  rather  to  die  sword  in  hand,  than  to  do 
any  thing  which  might  derogate  from  the  dignity  of 
Carthage. 

Reduced  to  this  fatal  extremity,  they  received,  in 
the  happiest  juncture,  a  reinforcement  of  auxiliary 
troops  out  ot  Greece,  with  Xanthippus  the  Lacedae- 

»  In  the  interval  betwixt  the  departure  of  Manlius  and 
the  taking  of  Tunis,  we  are  to  place  the  memorable  com- 
bat  of  Regulus  and  his  whole  army,  with  a  serpent  of  so 
prodigious  a  size,  that  the  fabulous  one  of  Cadmus  is  hardly 
comparable  to  it.  The  story  of  this  serpent  was  elegantly 
written  by  Livy,  but  it  is  now  lost.  Valerius  Maximus 
how  'V. r  partly  repairs  that  loss;  and  in  the  last  chapter  of 
his  first  book,  gives  us  this  account  of  this  monster  from 
Livy  himself: — He  [Livy]  says,  that  on  the  banks  of  Ba- 
gradi'  (an  African  river)  lay  a  serpent  of  so  enormous  a 
size,  that  it  kept  the  whole  Roman  army  from  coming  to 
the  river.  Several  soldiers  had  been  buried  in  the  wide 
caverns  of  its  belly,  arid  many  pressed  to  death  in  the  spi- 
ral volumes  of  its  tail.  Its  skin  was  impenetrable  to  darts  : 
and  it  was  with  repeated  endeavour?  that  stones,  slung  from 
the  military  engines,  at  last  killed  it.  The  serpent  then 
exhibited  a  si°ht  that  was  more  terrible  to  the  Roman  co- 
horts and  legions  than  even  Carthage  itself.  The  streams 
of  I  lie  rivvr  were  dyed  with  its  blood,  and  the  stench  of  its 
putrid  carcase  infected  ilie  adjacent  country,  so  that  the 
Roman  army  was  forced  to  decamp.  Its  skin,  one  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  long,  was  sent  to  Rome;  and,  if  Pliny 
may  be  credited,  was  to  be  seen  (together  with  the  jaw- 
bone of  the  same  monster)  in  the  temple  where  they  were 
first  deposited,  as  late  as  the  Numanline  war. 

[Tnis  citv  was  anciently  culled  Tunis  and  Tunica.  It 
itood  15  miles  S  E.  of  Carthafe,  and  like  it  was  of  Ph«e- 
ni'-ian  oriirin.  It  i*  more  famous  now  than  in  the  days  of 
Carthaginian  or  Roman  domination,  b'in™  the  seat  of  a 
Turkish  Bev  and  capital  of  a  lar;e  territory  now  called  the 
kingdom  of  Tunis.  It  is  cliii-rtv  placed  on  it  rising  sroiind, 
along  ilie  western  banks  of  the  Lake  of  Tunis,  and  enjoys  a 
full  view  of  tin-  GuliMta.  ancient  Cartilage,  and  the  i.»le  of 
Towa  mo,»re.  It  has  been  long  noted  for  piracv  like  the  oth- 
er cilies  on  the  African  coast,  as  Algiers  and  Tripoli.) 

»  A.-i  raj:  ij-x?5v{  fl  vixtU,  H  <fx.li>  TOif  vTlf  I  X.O  VTiv. 
Dieti  Erin?  I.  xxiii.  c.  10. 


nionian  at  their  head,  who  had  Deen  educated  in  the 
discipline  of  Sparta,  and  learnt  the  art  of  war  in  that 
renowned  and  excellent  school.  When  he  had  heard 
the  circumstances  of  the  last  battle,  which  were  told 
him  at  his  request;  had  clearly  discerned  the  occasion 
of  its  being  lost;  and  perfectly  informed  himself  in 
what  the  strength  of  Carthage  consisted  ;  he  declared 
publicly,  and  repeated  it  often,  in  the  hearing  of  the 
rest  of  the  officers,  that  the  misfortunes  of  the  Car- 
thaginians were  owing  entirely  to  the  incapacity  of 
their  generals.  These  discourses  came  at  last  to  the 
ear  of  the  public  council;  the  members  of  it  were 
struck  with  them,  and  they  requested  him  to  attend 
them.  He  enforced  his  opinion  with  such  strong  and 
convincing  reasons,  that  the  oversights  committed  by 
the  generals  were  visible  to  every  one;  and  he  proved 
as  clearly,  that  by  a  conduct  opposite  to  the  former, 
they  would  not  only  secure  their  dominions,  but  drive 
the  enemy  out  of  them.  This  speech  revived  the 
courage  and  hopes  of  the  Carthaginians;  and  Xan- 
thippus  was  entreated,  and,  in  some  measure,  forced, 
to  accept  the  command  of  the  army.  When  the 
Carthaginians  saw,  in  his  exercising  of  their  forces 
near  the  city,  the  manner  in  which  he  drew  them  up 
in  order  of  battle,  made  them  advance  or  retreat  on 
the  first  signal,  file  off  with  order  and  expedition;  in 
a  word,  perform  all  the  evolutions  and  movements  of 
the  military  art;  they  were  struck  with  astonishment, 
and  owned,  that  the  ablest  generals  which  Carthage 
had  hitherto  produced,  knew  nothing  in  comparison  of 
Xanthippus. 

The  officers,  soldiers,  and  every  one,  were  lost  in 
admiration;  and  what  is  very  uncommon,  jealousy 
gave  no  alloy  to  it;  the  fear  of  the  present  danger 
and  the  love  of  their  country,  stifling,  without  doubt, 
all  other  sentiments.  The  gloomy  consternation, 
which  had  before  seized  the  whole  army,  was  suc- 
ceeded by  joy  and  alacrity.  The  soldiers  were  urgent 
to  be  led  against  the  enemy,  in  the  firm  assurance  (as 
they  said)  of  being  victorious  under  their  new  leader, 
and  of  obliterating  the  disgrace  of  former  defeats. 
Xanthippus  did  not  suffer  their  ardour  to  cool;  and 
the  sight  of  the  enemy  only  inflamed  it.  When  he 
had  approached  within  little  more  than  1200  paces  of 
them,  he  thought  proper  to  call  a  council  of  war,  in 
order  to  show  respect  to  the  Carthaginian  generals, 
by  consulting  them.  All  unanimously  deferred  to  his 
opinion;  upon  which  it  was  resolved  to  give  the  ene- 
my battle  the  following  day. 

The  Carthaginian  army  was  composed  of  12,000 
foot,  4000  horse  and  about  100  elephants.  That  of 
the  Romans,  as  near  as  may  be  guessed  from  what 
goes  before  (for  Pelvbius  does  not  mention  their  num- 
bers here)  consisted  of  15,000  foot  and  300  horse. 

It  must  be  a  noble  sight  to  see  two  armies  like 
these  before  us,  not  overcharged  with  numbers,  but 
composed  of  brave  soldiers,  and  commanded  by  very 
able  generals,  engaged  in  battle.  In  those  tumultuous 
fights,  where  two  orSOO.OOO  are  engaged  on  both  sides, 
confusion  is  inevitable;  and  it  is  difficult,  amidst  a 
thousand  events,  where  chance  generally  seems  to 
have  a  greater  share  than  counsel,  to  discover  the 
true  merit  of  commanders,  and  the  real  causes  of 
victory.  But  in  such  engagements  as  this  before  us, 
nothing  escapes  the  curiosity  of  the  reader;  for  he 
clearly  sees  the  disposition  of  the  two  armies;  ima- 
gines he  almost  hears  the  orders  given  out  by  the 
generals;  follows  all  the  movements  of  the  army; 
can  point  out  the  faults  committed  on  both  sides;  and 
is  thereby  Qualified  to  determine,  with  certainty,  the 
causes  to  which  the  victory  or  defeat  is  owing.  The 
success  of  this  battle,  however  inconsiderable  it  mty 
appear  from  the  small  number  of  the  combatants,  was 
nevertheless  to  decide  the  fate  of  Carthage. 

The  disposition  of  both  armies  was  as  follows. 
Xanthippus  drew  up  all  his  elephants  in  front.  Be- 
hind these,  at  some  distance,  he  placed  the  Cartha- 
ginian infantry  in  one  body  or  phalanx.  The  foreign 
troops  in  the  Carthaginian  service  were  posted,  one 
part  of  them  on  the  ri°'ht,  between  the  phalanx  and 
the  horse;  and  the  other,  composed  of  light-armed 
soldiers,  in  platoons,  at  the  bead  of  the  two  wings  of 
the  cavalry. 


92 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


On  the  side  of  the  Romans,  as  they  apprehended 
.he  elephants  most,  Regulus,  to  provide  against  them, 
posted  his  light-armed  soldiers,  on  a  line,  in  the  front 
of  the  legions.  In  the  rear  of  these,  he  placed  the 
cohorts  one  behind  another,  and  the  horse  on  the 
wings.  In  thus  straitening  the  front  of  his  main  bat- 
tle, to  give  it  more  depth,  he  indeed  took  a  just  pre- 
caution, says  Polybius,  against  the  elephants;  but  he 
did  not  provide  for  the  inequality  of  his  cavalry, 
which  was  much  inferior  in  numbers  to  that  of  the 
enemy. 

The  two  armies  being  thus  drawn  up,  waited  only 
for  the  signal.  Xanthippus  orders  the  elephants  to 
advance,  to  break  the  ranks  of  the  enemy;  and  com- 
mands the  two  wings  of  the  cavalry  to  charge  the 
Romans  in  flank.  At  the  same  time,  the  latter, 
clashing  their  arms,  and  shouting  after  the  manner  of 
their  country,  advance  against  the  enemy.  Their 
cavalry  did  not  stand  the  onset  long,  being  so  much 
inferior  to  that  of  the  Carthaginians.  The  infantry 
in  the  left  wing,  to  avoid  the  attack  of  the  elephants, 
and  show  how  little  they  feared  the  mercenaries  who 
formed  the  enemy's  right  wing,  attacks  it»  puts  it  to 
flight,  and  pursues  it  to  the  camp.  Those  in  the  first 
ranks,  who  were  opposed  to  the  elephants,  were  bro- 
ken and  trodden  under  foot,  after  fighting  valiantly; 
and  the  rest  of  the  main  body  stood  firm  for  some 
time,  by  reason  of  its  great  depth.  But  when  the 
rear,  being  attacked  by  the  enemy's  cavalry,  was 
obliged  to  face  about  and  receive  it":  and  those  who 
had  broken  through  the  elephants,  met  the  phalanx  of 
the  Carthaginians,  which  had  not  yet  engaged,  and 
which  received  them  in  good  order,  the  Romans  were 
routed  on  all  sides,  and  entirely  defeated.  The 
greatest  part  of  them  were  crushed  to  death  by  the 
enonnous  weight  of  the  elephants:  and  the  re- 
mainder, standing  in  the  ranks,  were  shot  through 
and  through  with  arrows  from  the  enemy's  horse. 
Only  a  small  number  fled,  and  as  they  were  in  an 
open  country,  the  horses  and  elephants  killed  a  great 
part  of  them:  500,  or  thereabouts,  who  went  oft  With 
Regulus,  were  taken  prisoners  with  him.  The  Car- 
thaginians lost  in  this  battle  800  mercenaries,  who 
were  opposed  to  the  left  wing  of  the  Romans:  and  of 
the  latter  only  2000  escaped,  who,  by  their  pursuing  the 
enemy's  right  wing,  had  drawn  themselves  out  of  the 
engagement.  All  the  rest,  Regulus  and  those  who 
were  taken  excepted,  were  left  dead  on  the  field. 
The  2000,  who  had  escaped  the  slaughter,  retired  to 
Clypea,  and  were  saved  in  an  almost  miraculous 
manner. 

The  Carthaginians,  after  having  stripped  the  dead, 
entered  Carthage  in  triumph,  dragging  after  thenrthe 
unfortunate  Regulus,  and  500  prisoners.  Their  ioy 
was  so  much  the  greater,  as,  but  a  very  few  days  be- 
fore, they  had  seen  themselves  upon  the  brink  of  ruin. 
The  men  and  women,  old  and  young  people,  crowded 
the  temples,  to  return  thanks  to  the  immortal  gods; 
and  several  days  were  devoted  wholly  to  festivities 
and  rejoicings. 

Xanthippus,  who  had  contributed  so  much  to  this 
happy  change,  had  the  wisdom  to  withdraw  shortly 
after,  from  the  apprehension  lest  his  glory,  which  had 
hitherto  been  unsullied,  might,  after  this  first  blaze, 
insensibly  fade  away,  and  leave  him  exposed  to  the 
darts  of  envy  and  calumny,  which  are  always  danger- 
ous, but  most  in  a  foreign  country,  when  a  man  stands 
alone,  unsustained  by  friends  and  relations,  and  des- 
titute of  all  support. 

Polybius  tells  us,  that  Xanthippus's  departure  was 
related  in  a  different  manner,  and  promises  to  take 
notice  of  it  in  another  place.  But  that  part  of  his  his^ 
tory  has  not  come  down  to  us.  We  read  in  Appian, 
that  the  Carthaginians,  excited  by  a  mean  and  detes- 
table-jealousy of  Xanthippus's  glory,  and  unable  to 
bear  the  thoughts  that  they  should  stand  indebted  to 
Sparta  for  their  safety;  upon  pretence  of  conducting 
him  and  his  attendants  back  with  honour  to  his  own 
country,  with  a  numerous  convov  of  ships,  gave  private 
orders  to  have  them  all  put  to  death  in  their  passage; 
at  if  with  him  they  could  have  buried  in  the  waves  for 


De  Bell   Pun.  30. 


ever  the  memory  of  his  services,  and  tneu  norrid  in 
ratitueie  to  him.8 

This  battle,  says  Polybius,3  though  not  so  consider- 
able as  many  others,  may  yet  furnish  very  salutary 
instructions;  which,  adds  that  author,  is  the  greatest 
benefit  that  can  be  reaped  from  the  study  of  history. 

First,  ought  any  man  to  put  a  grtat  confide  nee  in 
his  good  fortune,  after  he  has  considered  the  fate  of 
Regulus?  That  general,  insoltnt  with  victory,  inexo- 
rable to  the  conquered,  scarcely  deigning  to  li-ttnto 
them,  saw  himstlf  a  few  days  after  vanquished  by 
them,  and  made  their  prisoner.  Hannibal  suggested 
the  same  reflection  to  Scipio,  when  he  exhorted  him 
not  to  be  dazzled  with  the  success  of  his  arms.  Re- 
gulus,  said  he,  would  have  been  recorded  as  one  of 
the  most  uncommon  instances  of  valour  and  ftlicity 
had  he,  after  the  victory  obtained  in  this  very  country 
granted  our  fathers  the  peace  which  they  sued  for. 
But  putting  no  bounds  to  his  ambition  and  the  inso- 
lence of  success,  the  greater  his  prosperity,  the  more 
ignominious  was  his  fall.4 

In  the  second  place,  the  truth  of  the  saying  of  Euri- 
pides is  here  seen  in  its  fullest  extent,  That  one  wist 
head  is  worth  a  great  many  hands.5  A  single  man  here 
changes  the  whole  face  ot  artairs.  On  one  hand,  he 
defeats  troops  that  were  thought  invincible;  on  the 
other,  he  revives  the  courage  of  a  city  and  an  army, 
whom  he  had  found  in  consternation  and  despair. 

Such,  as  Polvbius  observes,  is  the  use  which  ought 
to  be  made  of'  the  study  of  history.  For  there  being 
two  ways  of  acquiring  improvement  and  instruction, 
first  by  one's  own  experience,  and  secondly  by  that  of 
other  m*.n;  it  is  much  more  wise  and  useful  to  im- 
prove by  other  men's  miscarriages  than  by  our  own. 

I  return  to  Regulus,  that  I  may  here  finish  what  re- 
lates to  him;  Polybius,  to  our  treat  disappointmentt 
taking  no  farther  notice  of  that  general  * 


•  This  perfidious  ar.lion,  as  it  is  related  by  Appian,  may 
possibly  be   true,  when  we  consider  the  character  uf  the 
Carthaginians,  who  were  certainly  a  cruel   and  treacherual 
people.     But,  if  it  be  fact,  one  would  wonder  why  Polybiui 
should  reserve  for  another  occasion,  the  relation  of  on  inci- 
dent which  comes  in  most  properly  here,  as  it  finishes  at 
once   the   character  and  life   of  Xanthippus.     His  silence 
therefore  in  this  place  makes  me  think,  that  he  intended  to 
bring  Xanthippus  again  upon  the  stupe  ;  and  io  exhibit  him 
to  the  reader  in  a  different  light  from  that  in  which  he  ii 
planed  by  Appian.     To  this  let  me  add,  that  it  showed  no 
great  depth  of  policy  in  the  Carthaginians  to  take  ibis  me- 
thod of  despatching  him,  when  so  many  others  offered  which 
were  less  liable  to  censure.     In  this  scheme,  formed  for  liii 
destruction,  not  only  himself,  but  ."II  his  followers  were  to 
be  murdered,  without  the  pretence  of  even  a  storm,  or  losi 
of  one  single  Carthaginian,  to  cover  or  excuse  the  perpe- 
tration of  so  horrid  a  crime. 

»  Lib.  i.  p.  36.  37. 

«  Inter  pauca  felicitatis  virtutisque  exempla  M.  Atiliuf 
quondam  in  hac  eadem  terra  fuisset,  si  victor  pacem  peten- 
tihus  drdis.-ri  patribus  noslrig.  Sed  non  statuendo  tandem 
felicitati  minium,  nee  cohibendo  efferentem  se  foriunam, 
quanioalliusi  latus  ernl.co  fcedius  corruit.  /.ir.  l.xxx.  n.  30. 

•  'i!,-  iv  o-oce»  O3vx.ii/.ui  ri{  ,T5A.».».c  -£-.<f*;  v"»i.  It  may 
not  be  improper  to  take  notice  in  fhis  place  (as   it  wan  for- 
gotten before)  of  a  mistake  of  the  learned  Carauhun,  in  hi* 
translation  of  n  passage  of  Polybius  concerning  Xamhippui. 
The  passage  is  this:  'E»  oic  x*i  Hivj>»>ro»  T«»»  AaK.Jj.^- 
cv.of  ivjf  x  i>|;  A»*oui/i«y'[  iyi'j'iit  ^<«Tt<r2>!x4T»,xii  Tjiiiir 
,»  Toif  jr»>.i/i.xor!  «^OI/T-»  o-v^ufTfj^.     Which    is  rendered 
thus   by  Casaubon:  fn   queis  \militibus  sc.  Cirtrcia   a//atis] 
Xanthippus  i/uii/.nn  fuit  Lacedirmonivs,  vir  disciplina  La- 
contra  imbutus,  el  i/ui  ret  militaris  tisum  mediocrrm  kabebat. 
Whereas,  agreeably  with  the  whole  rhaiar.ler  and  conduct  of 
Xanthippus.  I  lake   the  gense  of  this  passage  to   ho,  a  man 
formed  by  the  Spartan  discipline,  and  proportionab/y  [not 
moderately]  *A'i//M/  in  military  affairs. 

•  Thin  silence  of  Polyhius  has   prejudiced  a  great  many 
learned  men  against  many  of  the  stories  told  of  Regulus'i 
barbarous  treatment,  after  he  was  taken  by  the  Carthagi- 
nians.    M.   Rollin  speaks  no  farther  of  this  matter;    and 
therefore  I  shall  give  my  reader  the  substance  of  what  if 
brought  against  the  general  belief  of  the  Roman  writers  (u 
well  historians  as  poets),  and  of  Appian  on  this  subject. 
First,  it   is  urged,  that   Polvbius  was  very  sensible  that  the 
story  of  these   cruelties  was   false;    and    therefore,  that   he 
might  not  disoblige  the  Romans,  by  contriidtrtinr  so  general 
a  belief,  he  cho«e  rather  to  be  silent  concerning   Reguliu 
after  hn  wns  taken  prisoner,  than  to  violate  the  truth  of  his- 
tuM ,  of  which  he  was  so  strict  an  observer.     This  opinion 
ii  farther  strengthened  (say  the  adversaries  of  this  belief} 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


After  being-  ^ept some  years  in  pri- 
A.  M.  3755.  son,1  he  was  sent  to  Rome  to  propose 
A.  Rom.  499.  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  He  had 
been  obliged  to  take  an  oath,  that  he 
would  return  in  case  he  proved  unsuccessful.  He 
then  acquainted  the  senate  with  the  subject  of  his 
vovasfe:  and  being  invited  by  them  to  give  his  opinion 
freelv,  he  answered,  that  he  could  no  longer  do  it  as 
a  senator,  having  lost  both  this  quality,  and  that  of  a 
Roman  citizen,  from  the  time  that  he  hi»d  fallen  into 
the  ha'ndsofhis  enemies;  bnt  he  did  not  refuse  to  o  flier 
his  thoughts  as  a  private  person.  This  was  a  very 
delicate  affair.  Every  one  was  touched  with  the  mis- 
fortunes of  so  great  a  man.  He  needed  only,  says 
Cicero,  to  have  spoken  one  word,  and  it  woul  I  have 
restored  him  to  his  liberty,  his  estate,  his  dignity,  his 
wife,  his  chil  Iren,  an j  his  country;  but  that  word  ap- 
peared ta  him  contrary  to  the  honour  and  welfare  of 
the  state.  He  therefore  plainly  declared,  that  an  ex- 
change of  prisoners  ought  not  to  be  so  much  as  thought 
of:  that  such  an  example  would  be  of  fatal  conse- 
quence to  the  republic:  that  citizens  who  had  so  basely 
surrendered  their  arms  to  the  enemv,  were  unworthy 
of  the  least  compassion,  and  incapable  of  serving  their 
country:  that  with  regard  to  himself, as  he  was  so  far 
advanced  in  years,  his  death  ought  to  be  considered 
as  nothing;  whereas  they  had  in  their  hands  several 
Carthaginian  generals  in  the  flower  of  their  age,  and 
capable  of  doing  their  country  great  services  for  many 
years.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  th  :  senate  complied 
with  so  generous  and  unexampled  a  counsel.  The 
illustrious  exile  therefore  left  Rome,1  in  order  to  re- 
turn to  Carthage, unmoved  either  with  the  deep  afflic- 
tion of  his  friends,  or  the  tears  of  hiswifeand  children, 
although  he  knew  but  too  wc.ll  the  grievous  torments 
which  were  prepared  forhir.i.  And,  indeed,  the  mo- 
ment his  enemies  saw  him  returned  without  having 
obtained  the  exchange  of  prisoners,  they  put  him  to 
every  kind  of  torture  theii- barbarous  cruelty  could  in- 
vent. They  imprisoned  him  for  a  long  time  in  a  dismal 
dungeon,  whence  (after  cutting  off  his  eye-lids)  they 
drew  him  at  once  into  the  sun,  when  its  beams  darted 
the  strongest  heat  They  next  put  him  into  a  kind 
of  chest  stuck  full  r-i  nails,  whose  points  wounding 
him  did  not  allow  him  a  moment's  ease  either  day  or 
night.  Lastly,  after  having  been  long  tormented"  by 
being  kept  for  f.ver  awake  in  this  dreadful  torture,  his 
merciless  enemies  nailed  him  to  a  cross,  their  usual 
punishment,  and  left  him  to  expire  on  it.  Such  was 
the  end  of  this  great  man.  His  enemies,  by  depriving 
him  of  some  days,  perhaps  years,  of  life,  brought  eter- 
nal infamy  on  themselves. 

The  blow  which  the  Romans  had  received  in  Africa 
did  not  d-scourage  them.3  They  made  greater  pre- 
parations than  before,  to  retrieve"  their  loss;  and  put 

by  a  fragment  of  Diodorus,  which  says,  that  the  wife  of 
Re»ulus,  exasperated  at  the  death  of  her  husband  in  Car- 
tlm<rp,  twrasioned,  as  she  imagined,  by  barbarous  usage, 
persuaded  her  sons  to  revense  the  fate' of  their  father,  by 
th^  cinel  treatment  of  two  Carthajinian  captives  (thought 
to  be  Bos'.jr  and  Hamilcar)  taken  in  the  sea-tisht  ajninst 
Sicily,  «fr.,r  the  misfortune  of  Reffulus,  and  put  into  her 
hands  for  the  redemption  of  her  husband.  One  of  these 
died  hy  \n?  •••verity  of  his  imprisonment ;  and  the  other,  bv 
the  care  of  the  Senate,  who  detested  the  cruelty,  survived. 
ind  w;i<s  ret  jvered  to  health.  This  treatment  of  the  cap- 
tives, and  ihe  resentment  of  the  Senate  on  that  account, 
form  a  third  argument  or  presumption  ajainst  the  truth  of 
this  story  ol  Rejulus.  wtiich  is  thus  arsued  : — Regulus  dy- 
ing ;n^his  ratitivitv  by  the  usual  course  of  natnrr.,  his  wife, 
•hu.«  frost™ -ed  of  her  hopes  of  redeeming  him  hy  the  ex 
cha.ire  of  her  captives,  treated  them  with  the  utmost  rwr- 
baritv.  in  consequence  of  her  belief  of  the  ill  nsn?"  which 
Reirulus  had  received.  The  senate  bein?  ansry  with  her 
for  it,  to  five  some  colour  to  her  cruelties,  she  gave  out 
•  mor.2  her  acquaintance  and  kindred,  that  her  husband  died 
in  the  way  rencrally  rotated.  This,  like  all  other  reports 
incr-a«ert  gradually  ;  and.  from  the  national  hatred  betwixt 
th"  Carthaginians  and  Roman*,  was  easily  and  generally 
believed  by  the  latter.  How  far  this  i*  conclusive  against 
the  testimonies  of  two  such  weighty  authors  as  Cicero  and 
Seneca  (to  say  nothing  of  the  poets)  is  left  to  the  judgment 
of  the  reader. 

i  Appian.  de  Bello  Pun.  p.  2.  3.  Cic.  de  Off.  1.  iii.  n. 
99.100.  Aul.  Gel.  1.  vi.  c.  4.  Senec.  Ep  99. 

»  Horat  1.  iii.  Od.  3.  »  Polyb.  1.  i.  p,  37. 


to  sea,  the  following  campaign,  three  hundred  and 
sixtv  vessels.  The  Carthaginians  sailed  out  to  meet 
them  with  two  hundred;  but  were  beatfn  in  an  en 
gagement  fought  on  the  coasts  of  Sicily,  »nd  a  hun- 
dred and  fourteen  of  their  ships  were  taken  by  the 
Romans.  The  latter  sailed  into  Africa,  to  take  i'n  the 
few  solJiers  who  had  escaped  the  pursuit  of  the  enemy, 
after  the  defeat  of  Regulus;  and  had  defended  them- 
selves vigorouslv  in  Clvpea,  where  they  had  been  un- 
successfully besieged. 

Here  again  we  are  astonished  that  the  Romans,  af- 
ter so  considerable  a  victory,  and  with  so  large  a  fleet, 
should  sail  into  Africa,  only  to  bring  from  thence  a 
small  garrison;  whereas  they  might  have  attempted 
the  conquest  of  it,  since  Regulus,  with  much  fewer 
forces,  had  almost  completed  it. 

The  Roman?,  on  their  return,  were  overtaken  bv  a 
storm,  which  almost  destroyed  their  whole  fleet.4  The 
like  misfortune  befel  them  also  the  following  year.* 
However  they  consoled  themselves  for  this  douole  loss, 
by  a  victory  which  they  gained  over  Asdrubal,  from 
whom  they  took  near  a  hundred  and  forty  elephants. 
This  news  being  brought  to  Rome,  filled  the  whole 
city  with  jov;  not  only  because  the  strength  of  the 
enemy's  army  was  considerably  diminished  by  the  loss 
of  their  elephants,  but  chiefly  because  this  victory  had 
inspired  the  land  forces  with  fresh  courage;  who, since 
the  defeat  of  Regulus,  had  not  dared  to  venture  upon 
an  engagement;  so  great  was  the  terror  with  which 
those  formidable  animals  had  filled  the  minds  of  all  the 
soldiers.  It  was  therefore  judged  proper  to  make  a 
greater  effort  than  ever,  in  order  to  finish,  if  possible, 
a  war  which  had  continued  fourteen  years.  The  two 
consuls  set  sail  with  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  ship?,  and 
ai  riving  in  Sicily,  formed  the  bold  design  of  besieging 
Lilybaeum.  This  was  the  strongest  town  which  the 
Carthaginians  possessed,  and  the  loss  of  it  would  be 
attended  with  that  of  even-  part  of  the  island,  and  open 
to  the  Romans  a  free  passage  into  Africa. 

The  reader  will  suppose,  that  the  utmost  ardour  was 
shown,  both  in  the  assault  and  defence  of  the  place.6 
Iniilco  wag  governor  there,  with  10,000  regular  forces, 
exclusive  ol  the  inhabitants;  and  Hannibal,  the  son  of 
Hamilcar,  soon  brought  him  as  many  more  from  Car- 
thage; he  having,  with  the  most  intrepid  courage, 
forced  his  way  through  the  enemy's  fleet,  and  arrived 
happily  in  the  port. 

The  Romans  had  not  lost  any  time.  Having 
brought  forward  their  engines,  they  beat  down  se- 
veral towers  with  their  battering  ranis;  and  gaining 
ground  daily,  they  made  such  progress,  as  gave  the 
besieged,  who  now  were  closely  pressed,  some  fears. 
The  governor  saw  plainlv  that  there  was  no  other 
way  left  to  save  the  city,  but  by  firing  the  engines 
of  the  besiegers.  Having  therefore  prepared  his  for- 
ces for  this  enterprise,  he  sent  them  out  at  dav-break 
with  torches  in  their  hands,  tow,  and  all  kinds  of 
combustible  matters;  and  at  the  same  time  attacked 
all  the  engines.  The  Romans  exerted  their  utmost 
efforts  to  repel  them,  and  the  engagement  was  very 
bloody.  Every  man,  assailant  as  well  as  defendant 
stood  to  his  post,  and  chose  to  die  rather  than  quit 
it.  At  last,  after  a  long  resistance,  and  dreadful 
slaughter,  the  besieged  sounded  a  retreat,  and  h-ft 
the  Romans  in  possession  of  their  works.  This  con- 
flict being  over,  Hannibal  embarked  in  the  night, 
and,  concealing  his  departure  from  the  enemy,  sailed 
for  Drepanum,  where  Ad  herbal  commanded  for  the 
Carthaginians.  Drepanum  was  advantageouslv  situ- 
ated; having  a  commodious  port,  and  lying 'about 
120  furlongs  from  Liryfrpiiiii:  and  the  Carthaginians 
had  been  always  very  desirous  of  preserving  it. 

The  Romans,  animated  by  their  late  success,  re- 
newed the  attack  with  greater  vigour  than  ever:  the 
besieged  not  daring  to  make  a  second  attempt  to 
burn  thfir  machines,  so  much  were  they  disheaitf  ned 
by  the  ill  success  of  the  former.  But  a  furious  wind 
rising  sudr.lenlv,  sime  mercenary  soMiers  represented 
to  the  governor,  that  now  was  the  favourable  oppor- 
tunity fr>r  them  to  fire  the  engines  of  the  besiegers 
especially  as  the  wind  blew  full  against  them;  and 

«  Pag.  38-40.  •  P«e .  41.  42.  •  Paj .  41—50. 


94 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


they  offered  themselves  for  the  enterprise.  The  offer 
was  accepted,  and  accordingly  they  were  furnished 
;th  every  thing  necessary.  In  a  moment  the  fire 
rat'-hed  all  the  engines;  and  the  Romans  could  not 
possibly  extinguish  it,  because  the  flames  bung 
spread  instantly  every  where,  the  winds  carried  the 
sparks  and  smoke  full  in  their  eyes  so  that  they 
could  not  see  where  to  apply  relief;  whereas  their 
enemies  saw  clearly  where  to  aim  their  strokes,  and 
thtow  their  fire.  This  accident  made  the  Romans 
lose  all  hopes  of  being  ever  able  to  carry  the  place 
by  force.  They  therefore  turned  the  siege  into  a 
blockade;  raised  a  strong  line  of  contravallation 
round  the  town;  and,  dispersing  their  army  in  every 
part  of  the  neighbourhood,  resolved  to  effect  by  time, 
what  they  found  themselves  absolutely  unable  to  per- 
form any  other  way. 

When  the  transactions  of  the  siege  of  Lilybaeum, 
and  the  loss  of  part  of  the  forces,  were  known  at 
Rome,  the  citizens,  so  far  from  desponding  at  this  ill 
news,  seemed  to  be  fired  with  new  vigour.1  Every 
man  strove  to  be  foremost  in  the  muster-roll ;  so  that 
in  a  very  little  time,  an  army  of  10,000  men  was 
raised,  \vho,  crossing  the  strait,  marched  by  land  to 
join  the  besiegers. 

At  the    same   time,   P.   Claudius 

A.  M.  3756.  Pulcher,  the  consul,  formed  a  design 
\..  Rom.  500.  of  attacking  Adherbal  in  Drepanum.2 
He  thought  himself  sure  of  surpris- 
ing him,  because  after  the  loss  lately  sustained  by 
the  Romans  at  Lilybseum,  the  enemy  could  not  im- 
agine that  they  would  venture  out  again  at  sea. 
Flushed  with  these  hopes,  he  sailed  out  with  his  fleet 
in  the  night,  the  better  to  conceal  his  design.  But 
he  had  to  do  with  an  active  general,  whose  vigilance 
he  could  not  elude,  and  who  did  not  even  give  him 
time  to  draw  up  his  ships  in  line  of  battle,  but  fell 
vigorously  upon  him  whilst  his  fleet  was  in  disorder 
and  confusion.  The  Carthaginians  gained  a  com- 
plete victory.  Of  the  Roman  fleet,  only  thirty  vessels 
got  oft',  which  being  in  company  with  the  consul,  fled 
with  him,  and  got  away  in  the  best  manner  they 
could  along  the  coast.  All  the  rest,  amounting  to 
fourscore  and  thirteen,  with  the  men  on  board  them, 
were  taken  by  the  Carthaginians:  a  few  soldiers  ex- 
cepted,  who  had  escaped  from  the  wreck  of  their 
vessels.  This  victory  displayed  as  much  the  pru- 
dence and  valor  of  Adherbal,  as  it  reflected  shame 
and  ignominy  on  the  Roman  consul. 

Junius,  his  colleague,  was  neither  more  prudent 
nor  more  fortunate  than  himself,  but  lost  his  whole 
fleet  by  his  ill  conduct.3  Endeavouring  to  atone  for 
his  misfortune  by  some  considerable  action,  he  held 
a  secret  correspondence  with  the  inhabitants  of 
Eryx,4  and  by  that  means  got  the  city  surrendered 
to  aim.  On  the  summit  of  the  mountain  stood  the 
temple  of  Venus  Erycina,  which  was  certainly  the 
most  beautiful  as  well  as  the  richest  of  all  the  Sicilian 
temples.  The  city  stood  a  little  below  the.  summit 
of  this  mountain,  and  the  only  access  to  it  was  by  a 
road  very  long  and  very  rugged.  Junius  posted  one 
part  of  his  troops  upon  the  top,  and  the  remainder  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  imagining  that  he  now  had 
nothing  to  fear;  but  Hamilcar,  surnamed  Barca, 
father  of  the  famous  Hannibal,  found  means  to  get 
into  the  city  which  lay  between  the  two  camps  o( 
the  enemy,  and  there  fortified  himself.  From  this 
advantageous  post  he  harassed  the  Romans  inces- 
»antly  for  two  years.  One  can  scarce  conceive  how 
it  was  possible  for  the  Carthaginians  to  defend  them- 
selves, when  thus  attacked  from  both  the  summit  and 


•  Polyb.  p.  50. 

•  Polyb.  I.  i.  p.  54—59. 


»  Ibid.  p.  51. 


•  [It  must  be  observed  here  that  the  port  of  Drepa- 
num  lay  north  of  Lilybaeum,  at  the  foot  of  mount  Eryx. 
Thi*  port  obtained  the  appellation  of  Drepanum,  from  the 
exceeding  curvature  of  the  shorn  after  the  manner  of  a 
hook,  called  Drepanon  in  Greek.  The  city  of  Eryx  stood 
on  the  declivity  of  the  mountain  and  the  temple  of  Venus 
on  the  summit.  The  mountain  ii  now  called  Monte  de 
San  Juliano,  and  next  to  ./Etna  if  esteemed  the  highest  in 
Bici.j.  Thus  the  whole  three  were  connected  together ;  the 
port  callel  Drepanum  or  the  Hook,  the  city  of  Eryx  on  the 
declivity,  and  the  temple  on  the  lummit.] 


foot  of  the  mountain;  and  unable  to  get  provisions, 

Dut  from  a  little  port,  which  was  the  only  one  open 

to  theni.     By  such  enterprises  as  these,  the  abilities 

nd  prudent  courage  of  a  general  are  as  well,  or  per- 

aps  better,  discovered,  than  by  the  winning  of  a 


b 
battle. 

For  five  years,  nothing  memorable  was  performed 
in  either  side.5  The  Romans  had  imagined  thai 
their  land  forces  would  alone  be  capable  of  finishing 
the  siege  of  Lylibaeum;  but  as  they  saw  it  protracted 
beyond  their  expectation,  they  returned  to  their  first 
plan,  and  made  extraordinary  efforts  to  fit  out  a  new 
Meet.  The  public  treasury  was  at  a  low  ebb;  but 
this  want  was  supplied  by  the  zeal  of  individuals;  so 
ardent  was  the  love  which  the  Romans  bore  to  their 
country.  Every  man,  according  to  his  circumstan- 
ces, contributed  to  the  common  expense;  and,  upon 
public  security,  advanced  money,  without  the  leas! 
scruple,  for  an  expedition  on  which  the  glory  and 
safety  of  Rome  depended.  One  man  fitted  out  a 
ship  at  his  own  charge;  another  was  equipped  by 
the  contributions  of  two  or  three;  so 
that,  in  a  very  little  time,  200  were  A.  M.  3763. 
ready  for  sailing.  The  command  A.  Rom.  507. 
was  given  to  Lutatius  the  consul, 
who  immediately  put  to  sea.  The  enemy's  fleet  had 
retired  into  Afrira:  the  consul  therefore  easily  seized 
upon  all  the  advantageous  posts  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Lihbwum;  and  foreseeing  that  he  should  soon  be 
forced  to  fight,  he  omitted  no  precautions  to  ensure 
success;  and  employed  the  interval  in  exercising  his 
soldiers  and  seamen  at  sea. 

He  was  soon  informed  that  the  Carthaginian  fleet 
drew  near,  under  the  command  of  Hanno,  who  land- 
ed in  3  small  island  called  Hiera,  opposite  to  Drepa- 
num. His  design  was  to  reach  Eryx  undiscovered 
by  the  Remans,  in  order  totsupply  the  army  there; 
to  reinforce  his  troops,  and  take  Barca  on  board  to 
assist  him  in  the  expected  engagement.  But  the 
consul,  suspecting  his  intention,  was  beforehand  with 
him;  and  having  assembled  all  his  best  forces,  sailed 
for  the  small  island  jEgusa,6  which  lav  near  the 
other.  He  acquainted  his  officers  with  tfie  design  h« 
had  of  attacking  the  enemy  on  the  morrow.  Accord- 
ingly, at  day-break,  he  prepared  to  engage:  unfor- 
tunately, the  wind  was  favorable  for  the  enuny, 
which  made  him  hesitate  whether  he  should  give  him 
battle.  But  considering  that  the  Carthaginian  fltet, 
when  unloaded  of  its  provisions,  would  become  light- 
er and  more  fit  for  action;  and,  besides,  would  b« 
considerably  strengthened  bv  the  forces  and  presence 
of  Barca,  he  came  to  a  resolution  at  once;  and  not- 
withstanding the  foul  weather,  made  directly  to  the 
enemy.  The  consul  had  choice  forces,  able  seamen 
and  excellent  ships,  built  after  the  model  of  a  galley 
that  had  been  lately  taken  from  the  enemy  ;  and 
which  was  the  completest  in  its  kind  that  Had  ever 
been  seen.  The  Carthaginians,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  destitute  of  all  these  advantages.  As  they  had 
been  the  entire  masters  at  sea  for  some  years,  and  the 
Romans  did  not  once  dare  to  face  them,  they  held 
them  in  the  highest  contempt,  and  looked  upon  them- 
selves as  invincible.  On  the  first  report  of  the  ene- 
my being  in  motion,  the  Carthaginians  had  put  to 
sea  a  fleet  fitted  out  in  haste,  as  appeared  from  every 
circumstance  of  it:  the  soldiers  and  seamen  being 
all  mercenaries,  newly  levied,  without  the  least  ex- 
perience, resolution,  or  zeal,  since  it  was  not  for  their 
own  country  they  were  going  to  fight.  This  soon 
appeared  in  the  engagement.  They  could  not  sus- 
tain the  first  attack.  Fifty  of  their  vessels  were 
sunk,  and  seventy  taken,  with  their  whole  crew*. 
The  rest,  favoured  by  a  wind  that  rose  very  seasona- 
bly for  them,  made  the  best  of  their  way  to  the  little 
island  from  whence  they  had  sailed.  There  were 
upwards  of  10,000  taken  prisoners.  The  consul 
sailed  immediately  for  Lilybaeum,  and  joined  hi» 
forces  to  those  of  the  besiegers. 

When  the  news  of  this  defeat  arrived  at  Carthage, 
it  occasioned  so  much  the  greater  surprise  and  terror, 

•  Polyb.  1.  i.  p.  59—62. 

•  These  islands  are  also  called  Agates. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


tt  it  was  less  expected.  The  senate,  however,  did 
not  lose  their  courage,  though  they  saw  themselves 
quite  unable  to  continue  the  war.  As  the  Romans 
were  now  masters  of  the  sea,  it  was  not  possible  for 
the  Carthaginians  to  send  either  provisions  or  rein- 
forcements to  the  armies  in  Sicily.  An  express  was 
therefore  immediately  despatched  to  Barca,  the  gene- 
ral there,  empowering  him  to  act  as  he  should  think 
proper.  Barca,  so  long  as  he  had  room  to  entertain 
the  least  hopes,  had  done  every  thing  that  could  be 
expected  from  the  most  intrepid  courage,  and  the 
most  consummate  wisdom.  But  having  now  no  re- 
source left,  he  sent  a  deputation  to  the  consul,  in  or- 
der to  treat  about  a  peace.  Prudence,  says  Polybius, 
consists  in  knowing  now  to  resist  and  yield  at  a  sea- 
sonable juncture.  Lutatius  was  not  insensible  how 
tired  the  Romans  were  grown  of  a  war,  which  had 
exhausted  them  both  of  men  and  money;  and  the 
dreadful  consequences  which  had  attended  on  Regu- 
lus's  inexorable  and  imprudent  obstinacy,  were  fresh 
in  his  memory.  He  therefore  complied  without  dif- 
ficulty, and  Jictated  the  following  treaty: — 

THERE  SHALL  BE  PEACE  BETWEEN  ROME  AND 
CARTHAGE  (IN  CASE  THE  ROMAN  PEOPLE  APPROVE 
OF  IT)  ON  THE  FOLLOWING  CONDITIONS :  THE  CAR- 
THAGINIANS SHALL  EVACUATE  ALL  SICILY;  SHALL 
NO  LONGER  MAKE  WAR  UPON  HIERO.  THE  SYRACU- 
SANS  OR  THEIR  ALLIES:  THEY  SHALL  RESTORE  TO 
THE  ROMANS,  WITHOUT  RANSOM,  ALL  THE  PRISON- 
ERS WHICH  THEY  HAVE  TAKEN  FROM  THEM:  AND 
PAY  THEM,  WITHIN  TWENTY  YEARS,  TWO  THOUSAND 
TWO  HUNDRED1  EUBOIC  TALENTS  OF  SILVER.*  It  is 
worth  the  reader's  remarking,  bv  the  way,  the  sim- 
ple, exact,  and  clear  terms  in  which  this  treaty  is 
expressed;  that,  in  so  short  a  compass,  adjusts  the 
interests  of  two  powerful  republics  and  their  allies, 
both  bv  sea  and  land. 

When  these  conditions  were  brought  to  Rome,  the 
people,  not  approving  of  them,  sent  ten  commission- 
ers to  Sicily,  to  terminate  the  affair.  These  made 
no  alteration  as  to  the  substance  of  the  treaty;3  only 
shortening  the  time  appointed  for  payment,  reducing 
it  to  ten  years:  a  thousand  talents  were  added  to  the 
sum  that  had  been  stipulated,  which  were  to  be  paid 
immediately;  an:!  the  Carthaginians  were  required 
to  depart  out  of  all  the  islands  situated  between  Italy 
and  Sicily.  Sardinia  was  not  comprehended  in  this 
treaty ;  but  they  gave  it  up  by  another  treaty  which 
was  made  some  years  afterwards. 

Such  was  the  conclusion  of  a  war, 
A.  M.  3763.  one  of  the  longest  mentioned  in  his- 
A.Carth.605.  tory,  since  it  continued  twenty-four 
A.  Rom.  507.  years  without  intermission.  The  ob- 
Ant.  J.C.241.  stinacy,  in  disputing  for  empire,  was 
equal'on  either  side:  the  same  reso- 
lution, the  same  greatness  of  soul,  in  forming  as  well 
as  in  executing  of  projects,  being  conspicuous  on 
both  sides.  The  Carthaginians  had  the  superiority 
in  their  acquaintance  with  naval  affairs;  in  their 
skill  in  the  construction  of  their  vessels;  the  work- 
ing of  them;  the  experience  and  capacity  of  their 
pilots;  the  knowledge  of  coasts,  shallows,  roads, 
and  winds;  and  in  the  inexhaustible  fund  of  wealth, 
which  furnished  all  the  expenses  of  so  long  and  ob- 
stinate a  war.  The  Romans  had  none  of  these  ad- 
Tantages,  but  their  courage,  zeal  for  the  public  good, 
love  of  their  country,  and  a  noble  emulation  of  glory, 
supplied  all  other  deficiencies.  We  are  astonished 
to  see  a  nation,  so  raw  and  inexperienced  in  naval 
affairs,  not  onlv  making  head  against  a  people  who 
were  better  skilled  in  them,  and  more  powerful  than 
any  that  had  ever  been  before;  but  even  gaining  se- 
veral victories  over  them  at  sea.  No  difficulties  or 
calamities  could  discourage  them.  They  certainly 
Would  not  have  thought  of  peace,  in  the  circumstan- 
ces under  which  the  Caitnaginians  demanded  it. 
One  unfortunate  campaign  dispirits  the  latter: 
whereas  the  Romans  are  not  shaken  by  a  succession 
of  them. 

As  to  soldiers,  there  was  no  comparison  between 


t  This  tarn  amounts  to  near  6,180,000  French  livres. 
»  Jilo.OOW.  English  money.  •  Polyb.  1.  iii.  p.  182. 


those  of  Rome  and  Carthage,  the  former  being  infi 
nitely  superior  in  point  of  courage.  Among  the  gen- 
erals who  commanded  in  this  war,  Hamilcar,  sur- 
named  Barca,  was,  doubtless,  the  most  conspicuous 
for  his  bravery  and  prudence. 

The  Libyan  War;  or,  against  the  Mercenaries. 

The  war  which  the  Carthaginians  waged  against 
the  Romans,4  was  succeeded  immediately  by  anoth- 
er,* which  though  of  much  shorter  continuance,  was 
infinitely  more  dangerous;  as  it  was  carried  on  in  the 
very  heart  of  the  republic,  and  attended  with  such 
cruelty  and  barbarity,  as  is  scarce  to  be  paralleled  in 
history,  I  mean  the  war  which  the  Carthaginians 
were  obliged  to  sustain  against  their  mercenary 
troops,  who  had  served  under  them  in  Sicily,  and 
which  is  commonly  called  the  African  or  Libyan 
war.6  It  continued  only  three  years  and  a  half,  but 
was  a  very  bloody  one.  The  occasion  of  it  was  this: — 

As  soon  as  the  treaty  was  concluded  with  the  Ro- 
mans,7 Hamilcar,  having  carried  to  Lilybaeum  the 
forces  which  were  in  Eryx,  resigned  his  commission  ; 
and  left  to  Gisgo,  governor  of  the  place,  the  care  of 
transporting  these  forces  into  Africa.  Gisgo,  as 
though  he  had  foreseen  what  would  happen,  did  not 
ship  them  all  off  at  once,  but  in  small  and  separate 
parties:  in  order  that  those  who  came  first  might  be 
paid  off  and  sent  home,  before  the  arrival  of  the  rest. 
This  conduct  evinced  great  forecast  and  wisdom,  but 
was  not  seconded  equally  at  Carthage.  As  the  re- 
public had  been  exhausted  by  the  expense  of  a  long 
war,  and  the  payment  of  near  130,0002.  to  the  Ro- 
mans on  signing  the  peace,  the  forces  were  not  paid 
off  in  proportion  as  they  arrived  ;  but  it  was  thought 
proper  to  wait  for  the  rest,  in  the  hopes  of  obtaining 
from  them  (when  they  should  be  all  together),  a  re- 
mission of  some  part  of  their  arrears.  This  was  the 
first  oversight. 

Here  we  discover  the  genius  of  a  state  composed 
of  merchants,  who  know  the  full  value  of  money, 
but  are  little  acquainted  with  that  of  the  services  of 
soldiers;  who  bargain  for  blood  as  though  it  were  an 
article  of  trade,  and  always  go  to  the  cheapest  market. 
In  such  a  republic,  when  an  exigency  is  once  answer- 
ed, the  merit  of  services  is  no  longer  remembered. 

These  soldiers,  most  of  whom  came  to  Carthage, 
having  been  long  accustomed  to  a  licentious  lile, 
caused  great  disturbances  in  the  city  ;  to  remedy 
which,  it  was  proposed  to  their  officers,  to  marcn 
them  all  to  a  little  neighbouring  town  called  Sicci, 
and  there  supply  them  with  whatever  was  necessary 
for  their  subsistence,  till  the  arrival  of  the  rest  of 
their  companions;  and  that  then  they  should  all  be 
paid  off,  and  sent  home.  This  was  a  second  over- 
sight. 

A  third  was,  the  refusing  to  let  them  leave  their 
baggage,  their  wives,  and  children  in  Carthage,  as 
they  desired  ;  and  the  forcing  them  to  remove  these 
to  Sicca;  whereas,  had  they  stayed  in  Carthage, 
they  would  have  been  in  a  manner  so  many  hostages. 

Bein°r  all  met  together  at  Sicca,  they  began  (hav- 
ing little  else  to  do)  to  compute  the  arrears  of  their 
pay,  which  they  made  amount  to  much  more  than 
wa's  really  due  to  them.  To  this  computation,  they 
added  the  mighty  promises  which  had  been  made 
them  at  different  times  as  an  encouragement  for  them 
to  do  their  duty  ;  and  pretended  that  these  likewise 
ought  to  be  brought  into  the  account.  Hanno,  who 
was  then  governor  of  Africa,  and  had  been  sent  to 
them  from  the  magistrates  of  Carthage,  proposed  to 
them  to  consent  to  some  abatement  of  their  arrears; 
and  to  content  themselves  with  receiving  a  part,  in 
consideration  of  the  great  distress  to  which  the  com- 
monwealth was  reduced,  and  its  present  unhappy  cir- 
cumstances. The  reader  will  easily  guess  how  such 
a  proposal  was  received.  Complaints,  murmurs,  se- 
ditious and  insolent  clamours,  were  every  where 
heard.  These  troops  being  composed  of  different 


«  Polyb.  1.  i.  p.  65—89. 

•  The  same  year  that  the  first  Punic  war  ended. 

*  And  sometimes,  jinxev   or  the  war  with  the  merrcnt 
rie«.  Polyb.  I-  1.  p.  06. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


nations,  who  were  strangers  to  one  another's  Ian 
piage,  were  incapable  of  hearing  reason  when  thej 
once  mutinied.  Spaniards,  Gauls,  Ligurians,  inhabi 
tants  of  the  Balearic  isles;  Greeks,  the  greatest  par 
of  them  slaves  or  deserters,  and  a  very  great  numbei 
of  Africans,  composed  these  mercenary  forces.  Trans 
ported  with  rage,  they  immediately  break  up,  march 
towards  Carthage  (being  upwards  of  20,000),  anc 
encamped  at  Tunis,  not  far  from  that  metropolis. 

The  Carthaginians  discovered  too  late  their  error 
There  was  no  compliance,  how  groveling  soever,  to 
which  they  did  not  stoop,  to  soothe  these  exasijeratet 
ioldiers:  who,  on  their  side,  practised  every  knavish 
art  which  could  be  thought  of,  in  order  to  extor' 
money  from  them.  When  one  point  was  gained 
they  immediately  had  recourse  to  a  new  artifice,  on 
which  to  ground  some  new  demand.  Was  their  pay 
•ettled  beyond  the  agreement  made  with  them,  they 
would  still  be  reimbursed  for  the  losses  which  they 
pretended  to  have  sustained,  either  by  the  death  of 
their  horses,  by  the  excessive  price  which  at  certain 
times  they  had  paid  for  bread-corn ;  and  still  insistec 
on  the  recompense  which  had  been  promised  them 
As  nothing  could  be  fixed,  the  Carthaginians,  with 
great  difficulty,  prevailed  on  them  to  refer  themselves 
to  the  opinion  of  some  general  who  had  commanded 
in  Sicily.  Accordingly  they  pitched  upon  Gisgo, 
who  had  always  been  very  acceptable  to  them.  This 
general  harangued  them  in  a  mild  and  insinuating 
manner;  recalled  to  their  memories  the  long  time 
they  had  been  in  the  Carthaginian  service;  the  con- 
iiderable  sums  they  had  received  from  the  republic; 
and  granted  almost  all  their  demands. 

The  treaty  was  upon  the  point  of  being  concluded, 
when  two  mutineers  occasioned  a  tumult  in  every 
part  of  the  camp.  One  of  those  was  Spendius  a 
Capuan,  who  had  been  a  slave  at  Rome,  and  had  fled 
to  the  Carthaginians.  He  was  tall  and  bold.  The 
fear  he  was  under  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  his 
former  master  by  whom  he  was  sure  to  be  hanged 
(as  was  the  custom),  prompted  him  to  break  off  the 
agreement.  He  was  seconded  by  one  Matho,1  who 
had  been  very  active  in  forming  the  conspiracy. — 
These  two  represented  to  the  Africans,  that  the  in- 
ctant  after  their  companions  should  be  discharged 
and  sent  home,  they,  being  thus  left  alone  in  their 
own  country,  would  fall  a  sacrifice  to  the  rage  of  the 
Carthaginians,  who  would  take  vengeance  upon  them 
for  the  common  rebellion.  This  was  sufficient  to 
raise  them  to  fury.  They  immediately  made  choice 
of  Spendius  and  Matho  for  their  chiefs.  No  remon- 
strances were  heard ;  and  whoever  offered  to  make 
any,  was  immediately  put  to  death.  They  ran  to 
Gisgo's  tent,  plundered  it  of  the  money  designed 
for  the  payment  of  the  forces;  dragged  that  general 
himself  to  prison,  with,  all  his  attendants;  after  hav- 
ing treated  them  with  the  utmost  indignities.  All 
the  cities  of  Africa,  to  whom  they  had  sent  deputies 
to  exhort  them  to  recover  their  liberty,  came  over  to 
them,  Utica  and  Hippacra  exceptt-d,  which  they 
therefore  immediately  besieged. 

Carthage  had  never  been  before  exposed  to  such 
imminent  danger.  The  citizens  individually  drew 
each  his  subsistence  from  the  rents  or  revenues  of 
their  lands,  and  the  public  expenses  from  the  tribute 
paid  by  Africa.  But  all  this  was  stopped  at  once; 
and  (a  much  worse  circumstance)  was  turned  against 
them.  They  found  themselves  destitute  of  arms  and 
forces  either  for  sea  or  land;  of  all  necessary  pre- 
parations either  for  the  sustaining  of  a  siege,  or  the 
equipping  of  a  fleet;  and,  to  complete  their  misfor- 
tunes, without  any  hopes  of  foreign  assistance  either 
from  their  friends  or  allies. 

They  might  in  some  sense  impute  to  themselves 
the  distress  to  which  they  were  reduced.  During 


t  Matho  wan  an  African,  and  free  born;  but  as  he  had 
been  active  in  raising  the  rebellion,  an  accommodation 
would  have  ruined  him.  He,  therefore,  despairing  of  a 
•Mrdun,  embraced  the  interests  of  Spendius  with  more  zeal 
.linn  any  of  the  rebels;  and  first  insinuated  to  the  Africans 
Hie  danger  of  concluding  a  peace,  as  this  would  leave  them 
•lone  aid  exposed  to  the  rugc  of  their  old  masters.  Potyb. 
9  *I8.  edit  Oronoa. 


the  last  war,  they  had  treated  the  African  nation*, 
with  the  utmost  rigour,  by  imposing  excessive  tributes 
on  them,  in  the  exaction  of  which  no  allowance  was 
made  for  poverty  and  exti  erne  misery ;  and  governors, 
such  as  Hanno,  were  treated  with  the  greater  respect, 
the  more  severe  they  had  been  in  levying  those  tribute*. 
So  that  no  great  efforts  were  necessary  to  prevail  up- 
on the  Africans  to  engage  in  this  rebellion.  At  ij« 
very  first  signal  that  was  made,  it  broke  out,  ana  in  a 
moment  became  general.  The  women,  who  had 
often,  with  the  deepest  affliction,  seen  their  husband* 
and  fathers  dragged  to  prison  for  non-payment,  wert 
more  exasperated  than  the  men;  and  with  pleasure 
gave  up  all  their  ornaments  towards  the  expenses  of 
the  war;  so  that  the  chiefs  of  the  rebels,  after  paving 
all  they  had  promised  the  soldiers,  found  theiust'lvei 
still  in  the  midst  of  plenty:  an  instructive  lesson, 
says  Polybius,  to  ministers,  how  a  people  should  be 
treated;  as  it  teaches  them  to  look  not  only  to  the 
present  occasion,  but  to  extend  their  views  to  futurity. 

The  Carthaginians,  notwithstanding  their  present 
distress,  did  not  despond,  but  made  the  most  extraor- 
dinary efforts.  The  command  of  the  army  was  given 
to  Hanno.  Troops  were  levied  by  land  and  sea; 
horse  as  well  as  foot.  All  citizens,  capable  of  bear 
ing  arms,  were  mustered ;  mercenaries  were  invited 
from  all  parts;  and  all  the  ships  which  the  republic 
had  left  were  refitted. 

The  rebels  discovered  no  less  ardour.  We  related 
before,  that  they  had  formed  the  siege  of  the  two  only 
cities  which  refused  to  join  them.  Their  army  was 
now  increased  to  70,000  men.  After  detachments 
had  been  drawn  from  it  to  carry  on  those  sieges,  they 
pitched  their  camp  at  Tunis;  and  thereby  held  Car- 
thage in  a  kind  of  blockade,  filled  it  with  perpetual 
alarms,  and  frequently  advancing  up  to  its  very  walls 
by  day  as  well  as  by  night. 

Hanno  had  marched  to  the  relief  of  Utica,  and 
gained  a  considerable  advantage,  which,  had  he  made 
a  proper  use  of  it,  might  have  proved  decisive:  but 
entering  the  city,  and  only  diverting  himself  there, 
the  mercenaries,  who  had  retreated  to  a  neighbouring 
hill  covered  with  trees,  hearing  how  careless  the  enemy 
were,  poured  down  upon  them;  found  the  soldier* 
straggling  in  all  parts;  took  and  plundered  the  camp, 
and  seized  upon  all  the  supplies  that  had  been 
brought  from  Carthage  for  the  relief  of  the  besieged. 
Nor  was  this  the  only  error  committed  by  Hanno; 
and  errors,  in  such  critical  junctures,  are  much  the 
most  fatal.  Hamilcar,  surnamed  Barca,  was  there- 
fore appointed  to  succeed  him.  This  general  answer- 
ed the  idea  which  had  been  entertained  of  him;  and 
his  first  success  was  the  obliging  the  rebels  to  raise 
the  siege  of  Utica.  He  then  marched  against  their 
army  which  was  encamped  near  Carthage;  defeated 
part  of  it,  and  seized  almost  all  their  advantageous 
posts.  These  successes  revived  the  courage  of  the 
Carthaginians. 

The  arrival  of  a  young  Numidian  nobleman,  Na- 
ravasus  !>y  name,  who,  out  of  esteem  for  the  person 
and  ment'of  Barca,  joined  him  with  2000  Numidians, 
was  of  great  service  to  that  general.  Animated  by 
this  reinforcement,  he  fell  upon  the  rebels,  who  had 
cooped  him  up  in  a  valley;  killed  10,000  of  them,  and 
took  4000  prisoners.  The  young  Numidian  distin 
pushed  himself  greatly  in  this  battle.  Barca  took 
nto  his  troops  as  many  of  the  prisoners  as  were  de- 
sirous of  being  enlisted,  and  gave  the  rest  free  libertv 
lo  go  wherever  they  pleased,  on  condition  that  thej 
should  never  take  up  arms  any  more  against  the  Car- 
ihaginians;  otherwise,  that  every  man  of  them,  if 
taken,  should  be  put  to  death.  This  conduct  proves 
.he  wisdom  of  that  general.  He  thought  this  a  bet- 
ter expedient  than  extreme  severity.  And  indeed 
where  a  multitude  of  mutineers  are  concerned,  the 
greatest  part  of  whom  have  been  drawn  in  by  the  ner- 
masionsof  the  most  hot-headed,  or  through  tear ot the 
most  furious,  clemency  seldom  fails  of  being  successful. 
Spendius,  the  chief  of  the  rebels,  fearing  that  this 
ifl'ected  lenity  of  Barca  might  occasion  a  delation 
imong  his  troops,  though'  the  only  expedient  left  him 
o  prevent  it,  would  be  ,o  strike  some  signal  blow, 
which  would  deprive  them  jf  all  hopes  ^f  being  ever 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


97 


reconciled  to  the  enemy.  With  this  view,  after  hav- 
ing read  to  them  some  fictitious  letters,  by  which  ad- 
tice  was  given  him,  of  a  secret  design  concerted 
betwixt  some  of  their  comrades  and  Gisgo  for  rescu- 
ing him  out  of  prison,  where  he  had  been  so  long 
detained  ;  he  brought  them  to  the  barbarous  resolu- 
tion of  murdering  him  and  all  the  rest  of  the  prisoners  , 
and  any  man,  who  durst  offer  anj  milder  counsel,  was 
immediately  sacrificed  to  their  fury.  Accordingly, 
this  unfortunate  general,  and  700  prisoners  who  were 
confined  with  him,  were  brought  out  to  the  front  of 
the  camp,  where  Gisgo  fell  the  first  sacrifice,  and  af- 
terwards all  the  rest.  Their  hands  were  cut  off, 
their  thighs  broken,  and  their  bodies,  still  breath- 
ing, were  thrown  into  a  hole.  The  Carthaginians 
gent  a  herald  to  demand  their  remains,  in  order  to  pay 
them  the  last  sad  office,  but  were  refused  ;  and  the 
herald  was  farther  told,  that  whoever  presumed  to 
come  upon  the  like  errand,  should  meet  with  Gisgo's 
fate.  And,  indeed,  the  rebels  immediately  came  to 
the  unanimous  resolution,  of  treating  all  such  Car- 
thaginians as  should  fall  into  their  hands  in  the  same 
barbarous  manner  ;  and  decreed  farther,  that  if  any 
of  their  allies  were  taken,  they  should,  after  their 
hands  were  cut  off,  be  sent  back  to  Carthage.  This 
bloody  resolution  was  but  too  punctually  executed. 

The  Carthaginians  were  now  just  beginning  to 
breathe,  as  it  were,  and  recover  their  spirits,  when  a 
number  of  unlucky  accidents  plunged  them  again 
into  fresh  dangers.  A  division  arose  among  thtir 
generals  ;  and  the  provisions,  of  which  they  were  in 
extreme  necessity,  coming  to  them  by  sea,  were  all 
cast  away  in  a  storm.  But  the  misfortune  which  they 
most  keenly  felt,  wa«,  the  sudden  defection  of  the  two 
only  cities  which  till  then  had  preserved  their  allegi- 
ance, and  in  all  times  adhered  inviolably  to  the  com- 
monwealth. These  were  Utica  and  Hippacra.  These 
citi<  s,  without  the  least  reason,  or  even  so  much  as  a 
pretence,  went  over  at  once  to  the  rebels  ;  and  trans- 
ported with  the  like  rage  and  fury,  murdered  the  go- 
vernor, with  the  garrison  sent  to  their  relief;  and 
^.arrieJ  their  inhumanity  so  far,  as  to  refuse  their  dead 
bodies  to  the  Carthaginians,  who  demanded  them 
bark  in  order  for  burial. 

The  rebels,  animated  by  so  much  success,  laid 
»iege  to  Carthage,  but  were  obliged  immediately 
to  raise  it.  They  nevertheless  continued  the.  war. 
Having  drawn  together,  into  one  body,  all  their  own 
troops  and  those  of  the  allies  (making  upwards  of 
50.000  men  in  all),  they  watched  the  motions  of  Ha- 
ruilcar's  arnn  ,  butcarefully  kepttheirown  onthehills; 
and  avoided  coming  down  into  the  plains,  because 
the  enemy  would  there  have  had  too  great  an  advan- 
tage over  them,  on  account  of  their  elephants  and 
cavalry.  Hamilcar,  more  skilful  in  the  art  of  war 
than  they,  never  exposed  himself  to  any  of  their  at- 
tack? ;  but  taking  advantage  of  their  oversights,  often 
dispossessed  them  of  their  posts,  if  their  soldiers 
straggled  but  ever  so  little  ;  and  harassed  them  a 
thjusmd  ways.  Such  of  them  as  fell  into  his  hands, 
were  thrown  to  wild  beasts.  At  last,  he  s-arprised 
them  at  a  time  when  they  least  expected  it,  and  shut 
them  up  in  a  post  which  was  so  situated,  that  it  was 
impossible  for  them  to  get  out  of  it.  Not  daring  to 
venture  a  battle,  and  being  unable  to  get  off,  they 
bejran  to  fortify  their  camp,  and  surrounded  it  with 
ditches  and  intrenchments.  Hut  an  enemy  among 
themselves,  and  which  was  much  more  formidable, 
ad  reduced  them  to  the  greatest  extremity  :  this  was 
unirer,  which  was  so  raging,  that  they  at  last  ate  one 
nother  ;  Divine  Providence,  says  Polybius,  thus  re- 
venging upon  themselves  the  barbarous  cruelty  they 
Bad  exercised  on  others.  They  now  had  no  resource 
left  :  and  knew  but  too  well  the  punishments  which 
would  be  inflicted  on  them,  in  case  they  should  fall 
olive  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  After  such  bloody 
scenes  as  had  been  acted  by  them,  they  did  not  so 
much  as  think  of  peace,  or  of  coming  to  an  accom- 
modation. They  had  sent  to  their  forces  encamped 
at  Tunis  for  assistance,  but  with  no  success.  In  the 
mean  time  the  famine  increased  daily.  They  had 
first  eaten  their  prisoners,  then  their  slaves  ;  and  now 
their  fellow-citizens  only  were  left.  Their  chiefs, 
VOL  I.— 13 


now  no  longer  able  to  resist  the  complaints  and  cries 
of  the  multitude,  who  threatened  to  massacre  them 
if  they  did  not  surrender,  went  themselves  to  Hamil- 
car, after  having  obtained  a  safe-conduct  from  him. 
The  conditions  of  the  treaty  wtre,  that  the  Cartha- 
ginians should  select  any  ten  of  the  rebels,  to  treat 
them  as  they  should  think  fit,  and  that  the  rest  should 
be  dismissed  with  only  one  suit  of  clothes  for  each. 
When  the  treaty  was  signed,  the  chiefs  thtmsehei 
were  arrested  and  detained  by  the  Carthaginians,  who 
plainly  showed,  on  this  occasion,  that  they  did  not 
pride  themselves  upon  their  good  faith  and  sincerity. 
The  rebels,  hearing  that  their  chiefs  were  seized,  and 
knowing  nothing  of  the  convention,  suspected  that 
they  were  betrayed, and  thereupon  immediately  took 
up  arms.  But  Hamilcar,  having  surrounded  them 
brought  forward  his  elephants  ;  and  either  trod  them 
all  under  foot,  or  cut  them  to  pieces,  they  being  up- 
wards of  40,000. 

The  consequence  of  this  victory  was,  the  reduction 
of  almost  all  the  cities  of  Africa,  which  immediately 
returned  to  their  allegiance.  Hamilrar,  without  loss 
of  time,  marched  against  Tunis,  which  ever  since 
the  beginning  of  the  war,  had  been  the  asylum  of 
the  rebels,  and  their  place  of  arms.  He  invested  it 
on  one  side,  whilst  Hannibal,  who  was  joined  in  the 
command  with  him,  besieged  it  on  the  other.  Then 
advancing  near  the  walls,  and  ordering  crosses  to  be 
set  up,  he  hung  Spendius  on  one  of  them,  and  hit 
companions  who  had  been  seized  with  him  on  thti 
rest,  where  they  all  expired.  Matho,  the  other  chief, 
who  commanded  in  the  city,  saw  plainly  by  this  what 
he  himself  might  expect  ;  and  for  that  reason  wa» 
much  more  attentive  to  his  own  defence.  Perceiving 
that  Hannibal,  as  being  confident  of  success,  wan 
very  negligent  in  all  his  motions,  he  made  a  sally, 
attacked  his  quarters,  killed  many  of  his  men,  took 
several  prisoners,  among  whom  was  Hannibal  him- 
self, and  plundered  his  camp.  Then  taking  Spendi- 
us from  tne  cross,  he  put  Hannibal  in  his  place,  aftrr 
having  made  him  suffer  inexpressible  torment!  ;  and 
sacrificed  round  the  body  of  Spendius  thirty  citizens 
of  the  first  quality  in  Carthage,  as  so  many  victim* 
of  his  vengeance.  One  would  conclude,  that  there 
had  been  a  mutual  emulation  betwixt  the  contending 
parties,  which  of  them  should  out-do  the  other  in  act* 
of  the  most  barbarous  cruelty. 

Barca  being  at  that  time  at  a  distance,  it  was  long 
before  the  news  of  his  colleague's  misfortune  reached 
him  ;  and  besides,  the  road  lying  betwixt  the  two 
camps  being  impassable,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
advance  hastily  to  his  assistance.  This  disastrous 
accident  caused  a  great  consternation  in  Carthage. 
The  reader  may  have  observed,  in  the  course  of  this 
war,  a  continual  vicissitude  of  prosperity  and  adver- 
sity, of  security  and  fear,  of  joy  and  grief;  so  various 
and  inconstant  were  the  events  on  either  side. 

In  Carthage  it  was  thought  advisable  to  make  on* 
bold  effort.  Accordingly,  all  the  youth  capable  of 
bearing  arms  were  pressed  ;nto  the  service.  Hanno 
was  sent  to  join  Hamilcar;  and  thirty  senators  were 
deputed  to  conjure  those  generals,  in  the  name  of  the 
republic,  to  forget  past  quarrels,  and  sacrifice  their 
resentments  to  their  country's  welfare.  This  was 
immediately  complied  with :  they  mutually  embraced, 
and  were  reconciled  sincerely  to  one  another. 

From  this  time,  the  Carthaginians  were  successful 
in  all  things;  and  Matho,  who  in  every  attempt  after 
this  came  off  with  disadvantage,  at  last  thought  him- 
self obliged  to  hazard  a  battle;  and  this  was  just  what 
the  Carthaginians  wanted.  The  leaders  on  both  sides 
animated  their  troops,  as  going  to  fight  a  battle  whicfc 
would  for  ever  decide  their  fate.  An  engagement 
ensued.  Victory  was  not  long  in  suspense;  for  the 
rebels  every  where  giving  ground,  the  African*  wire 
almost  all  slain,  and  the  rest  surrendered.  Matho 
was  taken  alive,  and  carried  to  Carthage.  All  Africa 
returned  immediately  to  its  allegiance;  except  the  two 
perfidious  cities  which  had  lately  revolted;  however, 
they  were  soon  forced  to  surrender  at  discretion. 

And  now  the  victorious  army  returned  toCarttiage, 
and  was  there  received  with  shouts  of  joy,  and  the 
congratulations  of  the  whole  city.  Matho  *iid  hi» 


98 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


soldiers,  after  having  adorned  the  public  triumph,  were 
led  to  execution ;  and  finished,  by  a  painful  and  ig- 
nominious death,  a  life  that  had  been  polluted  with 
the  blackest  treasons  and  unparalleled  barbarities. 
Such  was  the  conclusion  of  the  war  against  the  mer- 
cenaries, after  having  lasted  three  years  and  four 
months.  It  furnished,  says  Polybius,  an  ever-mem- 
orable lesson  to  all  nations,  not  to  employ  in  their 
armies  a  greater  number  of  mercenaries  than  citi- 
zens; nor  to  rely,  for  the  defence  of  their  state,  on  a 
body  of  men  who  are  not  attached  to  it  either  by  in- 
terest or  atfection. 

I  have  hitherto  purposely  deferred  taking  notice 
of  such  transactions  in  Sardinia  as  passed  at  the 
time  I  have  been  speaking  of,  and  which  were,  in 
some  measure,  dependant  on,  and  resulting  from, 
the  war  waged  in  Africa  against  the  mercenaries. 
They  exhibit  the  same  violent  methods  to  promote 
rebellion;  the  same  excesses  of  cruelty;  as  if  the  wind 
had  carried  the  same  spirit  of  discord  and  fury  from 
Africa  into  Sardinia. 

When  the  news  was  brought  there  of  what  Spen- 
dius  and  Matho  were  doing  in  Africa,  the  mercena- 
ries in  that  island  also  shook  off  the  yoke,  in  imita- 
tion of  these  incendiaries.  They  began  by  the 
murder  of  Bostar  their  general,  and  of  all  the  Car- 
thaginians under  him.  A  successor  was  sent;  but 
all  the  forces  which  he  carried  with  him  went  over 
to  the  rebels;  hung  the  general  on  a  cross;  and, 
throughout  the  whole  island,  put  all  the  Cartha- 
ginians to  the  sword,  after  having  made  them  suf- 
fer inexpressible  torments.  They  then  besieged  all 
the  cities  one  after  another,  and  soon  got  posses- 
sion of  the  whole  country.  But  feuds  arising  be- 
tween them  and  the  natives,  the  mercenaries  were 
driven  entirely  out  of  the  island,  and  took  refuge 
jn  Italy.  Thus  the  Carthaginians  lost  Sardinia,  an 
island  of  great  importance  to  them,  on  account 
of  its  extent,  its  fertility,  and  the  great  number  of 
its  inhabitants. 

The  Romans,  ever  since  their  treat}'  with  the  Car- 
thaginians, had  behaved  towards  them  with  great 
justice  and  moderation.  A  slight  quarrel,  on  account 
of  some  Roman  merchants  who  were  seized  at  Car- 
thage for  having  supplied  the  enemy  with  provisions, 
had  embroiled  them  a  little.  But  these  merchants 
being  restored  on  the  first  complaint  made  to  the  se- 
nate of  Carthage,  the  Romans,  who  prided  themselves 
upon  their  justice  and  generosity  on  all  occasions, 
made  the  Carthaginians  a  return  o( their  former  friend- 
ship; served  them  to  the  utmost  of  their  power;  for- 
bade their  merchants  to  furnish  any  other  nation  with 
provisions;  and  even  refused  to  listen  to  the  proposals 
made  by  the  Sardinian  rebels,  when  invited  by  them 
to  take  possession  of  the  island. 

But  these  scruples  and  delicacy  wore  offby  degrees; 
and  Caesar's  advantageous  testimony  (in  Sallust)  of 
their  honesty  and  plain  dealing,  could  not,  with  anv 
propriety,  be  applied  he.re:1  Although,  says  he,  in  all 
the  Punic  wars,  the  Carthaginians,  both  in  peace  and 
during  truces,  had  committed  a  number  of  detestable 
actions,  the  Romans  could  never  (how  inviting'  soever 
the  opportunity  might  be}  be  prevailed  upon  to  retali- 
ate such  usage ;  being-more  attentive  to  their  own  glory 
than  to  the  revenge  they  might  have  justly  taken  on  such 
perfidious  enemies. 

The  mercenaries,  who,  as  was  ob- 

A.  M.  3767.  served,  had  retired  into  Italy,  brought 
A.  Carth.  609.  the  Romans  at  last  to  the  resolution 
A.  Rom.  611.  of  sailing  over  into  Sardinia,  to 
Ant.  J.  C.237.  render  themselves  master  of  it.  The 
Carthaginians  were  deeply  afflicted 
at  the  news,  upon  pretence  that  they  had  a  more  just 
title  to  Sardinia  than  the  Romans;  they  therefore  put 
themselves  in  a  posture  to  take  a  speedy  and  just  re- 
venue on  those  who  had  excited  the  people  of  that 
island  to  take  up  arms  against  them.  But  the  Ro- 
mans, pretending  that  these  preparations  were  made, 
not  against  Sardinia,  but  their  state,  declared  war 


«  Belli*  Puniri*  omnibus,  enm  »»pe  Carthagineusei  et  in 
pace  et  per  inducia*  multa  nefanda  far  i  nor  a  fcciiisent,  nan- 
quam  ipsi  per  oreasionrm  talin  frcore  ;  magi*  qaod  sc  dignum 
'foret,  qunm  quod  in  illos  jure  fieri  posset,  qutercbant.  Sal- 
Ivtt  in  Bell.  Calilin. 


against  the  Carthaginians.  The  latter,  quite  exhaust- 
ed in  every  respect,  and  scarce  oeginning  to  brtathe 
were  in  no  condition  to  sustain  a  war.  The  necessity 
of  the  times  was  therefore  to  be  complied  with,  and 
they  were  forced  to  yield  to  a  more  powerful  rival 
A  fresh  treaty  was  thereupon  made,  by  which  thej 
gave  up  Sardinia  to  the  Romans,  and  obliged  them- 
selves to  a  new  payment  of  twelve  hundred  talents, 
to  keep  off  the  war  with  which  they  were  menaced. 
This  injustice  of  the  Romans  was  the  true  cause  of 
the  second  Punic  war,  as  will  appear  in  the  sequel. 

The  Second  Punic  War. 

The  second  Punic  war,  which  I  am  now  going  to 
relate,  is  one  of  the  most  memorable  recorded  In  his- 
tory, and  most  worthy  the  attention  of  an  inquisitive 
reader;  whether  we  consider  the  boldness  of  the  en- 
terprises; the  wisdom  employed  in  the  execution;* 
the  obstinate  efforts  of  t\vo  rival  nations,  and  the 
ready  resources  they  found  in  their  lowest  tbb  of  for- 
tune; the  variety  of  uncommon  events,  and  the  un- 
certain issue  of  so  long  and  bloody  a  war;  or,  lastly, 
the  assemblage  of  the  most  perfect  models  in  every 
kind  of  merit;  and  the  most  instructive  lessons  that 
occur  in  history,  either  with  regard  to  war,  policy, or 
government.  Never  did  two  more  powerful,  or  at 
least  more  warlike,  states  or  nations  make  war  against 
each  other;  and  never  had  these  in  qutstion  seen 
themselves  raised  to  a  more  exalted  pitch  of  power 
and  glory.  Rome  and  Carthage  were,  doubtless,  at 
that  time,  the  two  first  states  of  the  world.  Having 
already  tried  their  strength  in  the  first  Punic  war, 
and  thereby  made  an  essay  of  each  other's  power, 
they  knew  perfectly  well  what  either  could  do.  In 
this  second  war,  the  fate  of  arms  was  so  equally  ba- 
lanced, and  the  success  so  intermixed  with  vicissitude! 
and  varieties,  that  that  party  triumphed  which  had 
been  most  in  danger  of  being  ruined.  Great  as  tho 
forces  of  these  two  nations  were,  it  may  almost  be  said 
that  their  mutual  hatred  was  still  greater.  The  Ro- 
mans, on  one  side,  could  not  without  indignation  see 
the  vanquished  presuming  to  attack  them;  and  the 
Carthaginians,  on  the  other,  were  exasperated  at  the 
equally  rapacious  and  harsh  treatment  which  they 
pretended  to  have  received  from  the  victor. 

The  plan  which  I  have  laid  down  does  not  permit 
me  to  enter  into  an  exact  detail  of  this  war,  whereof 
Italy,  Sicily,  Spain,  and  Africa,  were  the  severa. 
seats;  and  which  has  a  still  closer  connexion  with 
the  Roman  history  than  with  that  I  am  now  writing 
I  shall  confine  myself  therefore,  principally,  to  such 
transactions  as  relate  to  the  Carthaginians,  and  en- 
deavour, as  far  as  I  am  able,  to  give  my  reader  an 
idea  of  the  genius  and  character  of  Hannibal,  who 
perhaps  was  the  greatest  warrior  that  antiquity  has, 
to  boast  of. 

The  remote  and  more  immediate  Causes  of  the  second 
Punic  Wnr. 

Before  I  come  to  speak  of  the  declaration  of  wa? 
betwixt  the  Romans  and  Carthaginians,  I  think  it 
necessary  to  explain  the  true  causes  of  it;  and  to 
point  out  by  what  steps  this  rupture,  betwixt  thes« 
two  nations,  was  so  long  preparing,  before  it  openlj 
broke  out. 

That  man  would  be  grossly  mistaken,  says  Poly 
bius,3  who  should  look  upon  the  taking  of  SaguB- 
tum  by  Hannibal  as  the  true  cause  of  the  second 
Punic  war.  The  regret  of  the  Carthaginian*  for 
having  so  tamely  given  up  Sicily, by  the  treafv  which 
terminated  the  first  Punic  war;  the  injustice  and 
violence  of  the  Romans,  who  took  advantage  of  the 
troubles  excited  in  Africa,  to  dispossess  the  Cartha- 
ginians of  Sardinia,  and  to  impose  a  new  tribute  on 
them;  and  the  success  and  conquests  of  the  latter  in 
Spain;  these  were  the  true  causes  of  the  violation  of 
the  treaty,  as  Livy  (agreeing  here  with  Polybius)  in- 
sinuates in  a  few  words,  in  the  beginning  of  his  his- 
tory of  the  second  Punic  war.4 


*  Lir.  1.  xxi.  n.  1.  «  Ibid.  iii.  p.  162—  IBS. 

4  j^ngebant   indent!*  (piritun  virum  Sicilia  Snnlininrjn* 
miiMe :  Nam  et  Sicilian  nimis  celeri  desperatiiwe  rerun 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


99 


And  indeed  Hamflcar,  surnamed  Barca,  was  highly 
exasperated  on  account  of  the  last  treaty,  which  the 
necessity  of  the  times  had  compelled  the  Carthagi- 
nians to  submit  to;  and  he  therefore  meditated  the 
design  of  taking  just,  though  distant,  measures,  for 
breaking  it  on  the  first  favourable  opportunity  that 
ihoul.l  offer. 

When  the  troubles  of  Africa  were  appeased,1  he 
was  sent  upon  an  expedition  against  the  rsumidians; 
in  which,  giriug  fresh  proofs  of  his  courage  and  abi- 
lities, his  merit  raised  him  to  the  command  of  the 
annv  which  was  to  act  in  Spain.  Hannibal,  his 
son.^'at  that  time  but  nine  years  of  age,  begged  with 
the  utmost  importunity  to  attend  him  on  this  occa- 
sion; and  for  that  purpose  employed  all  the  soothing 
arts  so  common  to  children  of  Vis  age,  and  which 
have  so  much  power  over  a  tender  father.  Hamil- 
car  could  not  refuse  him  ;  and  after  having  made 
him  swear  upon  the  altars,  that  he  would  declare 
himself  an  enemy  to  the  Romans  as  soon  as  age 
would  allow  him  to  do  it,  he  took  his  son  with  him. 

Hamilcar  possessed  all  the  qualities  which  consti- 
tute the  great  general.  To  an  invincible  courage, 
and  the  most  consummate  prudence,  he  added  a  most 
engaging  and  insinuating  behaviour.  He  subdued, 
in  a  very  short  time,  the  greatest  part  of  the  nations 
of  Spain,  either  bv  the  terror  of  his  arms  or  his  en- 
gaging conduct;  and  after  enjoying  the  command 
there  nine  years,  came  to  an  end  worthy  his  exalted 
character,  dying  gloriously  in  arms  for  the  cause  of 
his  country. 

The    Carthaginians  appointed  As- 
A.  M.  3776.     drubal,5  his  son-in-law,   to    succeed 
A.  Rom.  530.     him.     This  general,  to  strengthen  his 
footing  in  the  country,  built  a  city, 
which,  by  the  advantage  of  its  situation,  the  comnio- 
diousness  of  its  harbour,  its  fortifications,  and  opu- 
lence, occasioned   by  its  great  commerce,  became  one 
of  the  most  considerable  cities  in  the  world.     It  was 
called  New  Carthage,  and  is  at  this  day  known  by 
the  name  of  Carthagena. 

From  the  several  steps  of  these  two  great  generals, 
it  was  easy  to  perceive  that  they  were  meditating 
gome  mightv  design  which  they  had  always  in  view, 
and  laid  their  schemes  at  a  great  distance  for  the 
putting  it  in  execution.  The  Romans  were  sensible 
of  this,  and  reproached  themselves  for  their  indolence 
and  torpor,  which  had  thrown  them  jnto  a  kind  of 
lethargy:  at  a  time  that  the  enemy  were  rapidly  pur- 
suing their  victories  in  Spain,  which  might  one  day 
be  turned  against  them.  They  would  have  been  very 
well  pleased  to  attack  them  by  open  force,  and  to 
wrest  their  conquests  out  of  their  hands  ;  but  the 
fear  of  another  (not  less  formidable)  enemy,  the 
Gauls,  whom  they  expected  shortly  to  see  at  their 
very  gates,  kept  them  from  showing  their  resent- 
ment. They  therefore  had  recourse  to  negotiations; 
and  concluded  a  treaty  with  Asdrubal,  in  which, 
without  taking  any  notice  of  the  rest  of  Spain,  they 
contented  themselves  with  introducing  an  article,  by 
which  the  Carthaginians  were  not  allowed  to  make 
any  conquests  beyond  the  Iberus. 

Asdrubal,*  in  the  mean  time,  still  pushed  on  his 
conquests,  still,  however,  taking  care  not  to  pass  be- 
yond the  limits  stipulated  bv  the  treaty;  but  by  spar- 
ins:  no  endeavours  to  win  the  chiefs  of  the  several 
nations  by  a  courteous  and  engaging  behaviour,  he 
furthered"  the  interests  of  Carthage  still  more  by  per- 
•uasive  methods  than  force  of  arms.  But  unhappily, 
after  having  governed  Spain  eight  years,  he  was 
treacherously  murdered  by  a  Gaul,  who  took  so  bar- 
barous a  revenge  for  a  private  grudge  he  bore  him.5 


concessam  ;  et  Snrdiniam  inter  motnm  Africte  fraude  Ro- 
manorum.  stipendio  etiam  supvrimposito.  inlerceptam.  I.iv. 
1.  xvi.  n.  1.  i  Pulyb.  l.ii.  p.  90. 

»  Ibid.  1.  iii.  p.  167.    Liv.  1.  xxi.  n.  1. 

»  Polvh.  I.  ii.  p.  101. 

«  IhiH.  I.  ii.  p.  123.     Liv.  1.  xxi.  n.  2. 

•  Tlv  murder  was  an  effect  of  the  extraordinary  fidelity 
•f  tliip  Raul,  whose  master  had  fallen  h»  the  hand  of  Atdru- 
bal.  It  was  perpetrated  in  public;  and  the  murderer  being 
•eizcd  by  the  guards,  and  put  to  the  torture,  expressed  so 
strung  a  satisfaction  in  the  thoughts  of  his  bavin*  executed 


Three  years  before  his  death,6  he 
had  written  to  Carthage  to  desire  that  A.  M,  3783 
Hannibal,  then  twenty-two  vears  of  A.  Rom.  530. 
age,  might  be  sent  to  him.  The  pro- 
posal met  with  some  difficulty,  as  the  senate  was 
divided  bewixt  two  powerful  factions  which,  from 
Hamilcar's  time,  had  begun  to  follow  opposite  views 
in  the  administration  and  affairs  of  the  state.  One 
faction  was  headed  by  Hanno,  whose  birth,  merit, 
and  real  for  the  public  welfare,  gave  him  great  influ- 
ence in  the  public  deliberations.  This  faction  pro- 
posed, on  every  occasion,  the  concluding  of  a  safe 
peace,  and  the  preserving  the  conquests  in  Spam,  a* 
being  preferable  to  the  uncertain  events  of  an  expen- 
sive war,  which  they  foresaw  would  one  day  occasion 
the  ruin  of  Carthage.  The  other,  called  the  Barci- 
nian  faction,  because  it  supported  the  interests  of 
Barca  and  his  family,  had,  to  the  credit  and  influence 
which  it  had  long  enjoyed  in  the  city  added  the  repu- 
tation which  the  signal  exploits  of  Hamilcar  and 
Asdrubal  had  given  it,  and  declared  openly  for  war. 
When  therefore  Asdrubal's  demand  came  to  be  de- 
bated in  the  senate,  Hanno  represented  the  danger 
of  sending  so  early  into  the  field  a  young  man  who 
already  possessed  all  the  haughtiness  and  imperious 
temper  of  his  father;  and  who  ought,  therefore, 
rather  to  be  kept  a  long  time,  and  very  carefully, 
under  the  eye  of  the  magistrate  and  the  power  of  the 
laws,  that  he  might  learn  obedience,  and  a  modesty 
which  should  teach  him  not  to  think  himself  superior 
to  all  other  men.  He  concluded  with  saying,  that  he 
feared  this  spark,  which  was  thin  kindling,  would 
one  day  rise  to  a  conflagration.  His  remonstrances 
were  not  heard,  so  that  the  Barcinian  faction  had  the 
superiority,  and  Hannibal  set  out  for  Spain. 

The  moment  of  his  arrival  there,  he  drew  upon 
himself  the  eyes  of  the  whole  army,  who  fancied  tney 
saw  Hamilcar  his  father  revive  in  him.  He  seemed 
to  dart  the  same  fire  from  his  eyes;  the  same  martial 
vigour  displayed  itself  in  the  air  of  his  countenance, 
with  the  same  features  and  engaging  carriage.  But 
his  personal  qualities  endeared  him  still  more.  He 
possessed  almost  every  talent  that  constitutes  the 
great  man.  His  patience  in  labour  was  invincible, 
his  temperance  was  surprising,  his  courage  in  the 
greatest  dangers  intrepid,  and  his  presence  of  mind 
in  the  heat  of  battle  admirable;  and,  a  still  more 
wonderful  circumstance,  his  disposition  and  cast  of 
mind  were  so  flexible,  that  nature  had  formed  him 
equally  for  commanding  or  obeying;  so  that  it  was 
doubtful  whether  he  was  dearer  to  the  soldiers  or 
the  generals.  He  served  three  campaigns  under 
Asdrubal. 

Upon  the  death  of  that  general,7 
the  suffrages  of  both  the  army  and  A.  M.  3784. 
people  concurred  in  raising  Hannibal  A.  Carth.  626. 
to  the  supreme  command.  I  know  A.  Rom.  528. 
not  whether  it  was  not  even  then  or 
about  that  time,  that  the  republic,  to  heighten  his  in- 
fluence and  authority,  appointed  him  one  of  its  Suf- 
fetes,  the  first  dignity  of  the  state,  which  was  some- 
times conferred  upon  generals.  It  is  from  Cornelius 
Nepos8  that  we  have  borrowed  this  circumstance  of 
his  life,  who,  speaking  of  the  praetorship  bestowed 
on  Hannibal,  upon  his  return  to  Carthage,  and  the 
conclusion  of  the  peace,  gays,  that  this  was  twenty- 
two  years  after  he  had  been  nominated  king.9 

The  moment  he  was  created  general,  Hannibal,  ai 
if  Italy  had  been  allotted  to  him,  and  he  had  even 
then  been  appointed  to  make  war  upon  the  Romans, 
turned  secretly  his  whole  views  on  that  side  ;  and 
lost  no  time,  for  fear  of  being  prevented  by  death,  as 
his  father  and  brother-in-law  had  been.  In  Spain  he 
took  several  strong  towns,  and  conquered  many  na- 
tions ;  and  although  the  Spaniards  greatly  exce'eded 


his  revenee  so  successfully,  that  he  seemed  to  ri  lieule  all  the 
terror  of  his  torments.  F.ofuit  habilv  orit,  nt  ntperante  la- 
titii  dolorrj  ridtntis  ettam  specific  ""•"hittrit.  Liv.  I.  xxi.  n.l. 

<  LIT.  I   xxi.  n.  3.  4. 

'  Polvb.  I.  iii.  p.  ice,  169.     Liv.  I.  xxi.  n.  3—6. 

•  In  Vit.  Annih.  r.  7. 

•  Hie,  nt  rediit.  Prater  factni  est,  pntiouam  rex  fuoitt, 
anno  secundu  et  vigesimo. 


100 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


him  in  the  number  of  forces  (their  army  amounting 
to  upxvards  of  100,000  men),  vet  he  chose  his  time 
and  posts  so  judiciously,  that  he  entirely  defeated 
them.  After  this  victory,  every  thing-  submitted  to 
his  arms.  But  he  still  forbore  laying  siege  to  Sa- 
gunluii),1  carefully  avoiding  every  occasion  of  a  rup- 
ture with  the  Romans,  till  he  should  liave  taken  every 
step  which  he  judged  wcessary  for  so  important  an 
enterprise,  pursuant  to  the  advice  given  him  by  his 
father.  He  applied  himself  particularly  to  engage 
the  all'rrtions  of  the  citizens  and  allies,  and  to  gain 
their  confidence,  bv  generously  allotting  them  a  large 
share  of  the  plunder  taken  from  the  enemy,  and  by 
scrupulously  paying  them  all  their  arrears  :2  a  wise 
step,  which  never  fails  of  producing  its  advantage  at 
a  proper  season. 

The  Saguntines.S  on  their  side,  sensible  of  the 
danger  with  which  they  were  threatened,  informed 
the  Romans  of  the  progress  of  Hannibal's  conquests. 
Upon  this,  deputies  were  nominated  bv  the  latter, 
and  ordered  to  go  and  acquaint  themselves  with  the 
state  of  affairs  upon  the  spot  ;  they  commanded  them 
also  to  lay  their  complaints  before  Hannibal,  if  it 
should  be  thought  proper ;  and  in  case  he  should  re- 
fuse to  do  justice,  that  then  they  should  go  directly 
to  Carthage,  and  make  the  same  complaints. 

In  the  mean  time  Hannibal  laid  siege  to  Saguntum, 
foreseeing  that  great  advantages  would  accrue  from 
the  taking  of  this  city.  He  was  persuaded,  thai  this 
would  deprive  the  Romans  of  all  hopes  of  carrying  on 
the  war  in  Spain  ;  that  this  new  conquest  would  secure 
those  he  had  already  made;  that  as  no  enemy  would 
be  If  ft  behind  him,  his  march  would  be  more  secure 
and  unmolested  :  that  he  should  find  money  enough  in 
it  fjr  the  execution  of  his  designs;  that  the  plunder  of 
the  city  would  inspire  his  soldiers  with  greater  ardour, 
and  make  them  follow  him  with  greater  cheerfulness; 
that,  lastly,  the  spoils  which  he  should  send  to  Car- 
thage, would  gain  him  the  favourofthe  citirens.  Ani- 
mated bv  these  motives,  he  carried  on  the  siege  with 
the  utmost  rigour.  He  himself  set  an  example  to  his 
troops,  was  present  at  all  the  works,  and  exposed  him- 
self to  the  greatest  dangers. 

News  was  soon  carried  to  Rome  that  Saguntum  was 
besieged.  But  the  Romans,  instead  of  Hying  to  its 
relief,  lost  their  time  in  fruitless  debates,  and  in  depu- 
tations equally  fruitless.  Hannibal  sent  word  to  the 
Roman  deputies,  that  he  was  not  at  leisure  to  hear 
them;  they  therefore  repaired  to  Carthage,  but  met 
with  no  better  recaption,  the  Barcinian  faction  having 
prevailed  over  the  complaints  of  the  Romans,  and  all 
the  remonstrances  of  Hanno. 

During  all  t!  ese  voyages  and  negotiations,  the  siege 
was  carried  on  with  great  vigour.  The  Saguntines 
were  now  reduced  to  the  last  extremity,  and  in  want 
of  all  things.  An  accommodation  was  thereupon  pro- 
posed; but  the  conditions  on  which  it  was  offered 
appeared  so  harsh,  that  the  Saguntines  could  not  pre- 
rail  upon  themselves  to  accept  them.  Before  thev  gave 
their  final  answer  the  principal  senators,  bringing  their 


_«  [This  city  which  owes  its  fame  both  to  the  Ion?  and 
-igorous  defence,  which  it  made,  and  to  the  reputation  of 
Hannibal  who  ti«>k  it.  was  situate  on  the  banks  of  a  small 
•trcam  now  railed  Palencia,  at  a  lenjue's  distance  from  the 
iea,  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  of  blark  marble  veined  wilh 
white,  and  the  extremity  of  a  vast  plain,  where  nature  aid- 
ed by  art  develone*  abundant  riche*.  It  lay  on  the  west, 
or  Cnrthagininn  side  of  the  Ibcrus  or  Ebro  in  the  modern 
province  of  Valencia.  Though  entirely  destroyed  bv  Han- 
nibal, it  win  afterward*  rebuilt  by  the  Roman*,  and  made  a 
magnificent  city,  but  was  also  afterwards  destroyed  by  the 
Goths  and  Arabs.  A  Roman  cirrus  dill  remains  in  the 
form  of  a  st-mi  ellipsis,  the  two  extremes  of  which  termi- 
nat<-il  at  the  little  river  Palencia.  A  greater  portion  of  the 
theatre  remains  than  of  any  other  Roman  monument  in 
Spain.  A  keener  was  appointed  in  17S2,  to  preserve  this 
remain  of  Roman  jxjwer  and  grandeur  which  otherwise 
would  have  perished,  notwithstanding  tho  positive  orders 
of  the  Spanish  court.  Murviedro  now  occupies  the  site 
where  once  the  Zarvnthian  and  Roman  Saguntum  stood, 
kii'l  contains  a  population  of  5000  souls. 

*  Ibi    large    partiendo   prtrdam.  siipendia  pr.-rteritn  cum 
tide  evsiilvrmln.  cunctoo  civium  lociorumquo  animoi  ill  ae 
1/reavi'.     I.ir.  I.  xxi.  n  5.] 

*  Pol)b  1.  iii.  p.  J70-  173.    Lir.  l.xju.  n.  0—15. 


gold  and  silver;  and  that  of  the  public  treasury,  into 
the  market-place,  threw  both  into  a  riie  lighted  fui  that 
purpose,  and  afterwards  rushed  headlong  into  it  them 
selves.  At  the  same  time,  a  tower,  which  had  been 
long  assaulted  by  the  battering  rams,  falling  with  a 
drtadful  noise,  the  Carthaginians  tntertd  the  city  by 
the  breach,  soon  made  tl.emstlves  masters  of  it,  and 
cut  to  pieces  all  the  inhabitants  who  were  of  age  to 
bear  arms.  But  notwithstanding  the  lire,  the  Cartha- 
ginians got  a  very  great  booty.  Hannibal  did  not 
re<trvr  to  himstlt  any  part  of  the  spoils  gained  by  hit 
victories,  but  applied  them  solely  to  the  earn  ing  on  liis 
enterprises.  Accordingly,  Polybius  remarks,  that  the 
taking  of  Saguntum  was  of  service  to  him,  as  it  awak- 
ened the  ardour  ot  his  soldiers,  by  the  sight  of  the  rich 
booty  which  they  had  just  obtained,  and  by  the  hopei 
of  more;  and  it  reconciled  all  the  principal  peisonsof 
Carthage  to  Hannibal,  by  the  large  presents  he  made 
to  them  out  of  the  spoils. 

Words  could  never  express  the  grief  and  consterna- 
tion with  which  the  melancholy  ntws  of  the  capture 
and  cruel  fate  of  Saguntum  was  received  at  Rome  .* 
Compassion  for  this  unfortunate  citv,  shame  for  having 
failed  to  succour  such  faithful  allies,  a  just  indignation 
against  the  Carthaginians,  the  authors  of  all  these 
calamitits;  a  strong  alarm  raised  by  the  succtssts  of 
Hannibal,  whom  the  Romans  fancied  they  saw  already 
at  tht  ir  gates;  all  these  sentiments  caused  so  viultnt 
an  emotion,  that  during  the  first  moments  of  their  agi- 
tation, the  Romans  were  unable  to  come  to  any  reso- 
lution, or  do  any  thing  but  give  way  to  the  torrent  of 
their  passion,  and  saci  ilice  floods  of  tears  to  the  memory 
of  a  city  which  fell  the  victim  of  its  inviolable  fidelity* 
to  the  Romans,  and  had  been  betrayed  bv  their  unac- 
countable indolence  and  imprudent  delays.  \Vhen 
they  were  a  little  recovered,  an  assembly  ol  thepeoplr 
was  called,  and  war  was  decreed  unanimously  against 
the  Carthaginians. 

War  Proclaimed. 

That  no  ceremony  might  be  wanting,6deputies  were 
sent  to  Carthage,  to  inquire  whethrr  Saguntum  hac 
been  besieged  by  order  of  the  republic,  and,  if  so,  to 
declare  war  ;  or  in  case  this  siege  had  been  undertaken 
solely  by  the  authority  of  Hannibal,  to  require  that  he 
should  be  delivered  up  to  the  Romans.  The  deputies 
perceiving  that  the  senate  gave  no  direct  answtr  to 
their  demands,  one  of  them,  taking  up  the  folded  lap- 
pf  t  of  his  robe,  I  bring  h  ere,  say  she,  in  a  haughty  tone, 
either  peace  or  war  ;  the  choice  is  left  to  yourselves. 
The  senate  answering,  that  they  left  the  choice  to  him: 
I giveyon  war  then,  says  he,  unfolding  his  robe.  JlnA 
we,  replied  the  Carthaginians,  with  the  same  haughti- 
ness, as  heartily  accept  it,  and  are  resolved  toprosectitt 
it  with  the  same  cheerfulness.  Such  was  the  beginning 
of  the  second  Punic  war. 

If  the  cause  of  this  war  should  be  ascribed  to  the 
taking  of  Saguntum,7  the  whole  blame,  says  Polv- 
bius, Ties  upon  the  Carthagiuians,  who  could  not,  with 
any  colourable  pretence,  besiege  a  city  that  was  in 
alliance  with  Rome,  and,  as  such,  comprehended  in 
the  treaty,  which  forbade  either  party  to  make  war 
upon  the  allies  of  the  other.  But  should  the  origin  of 
this  war  be  traced  higher, and  carried  back  to  the  time 
when  the  Carthaginians  were  dispossessed  of  Sardinia 
bv  the  Romans,  and  a  new  tribute  was  so  unrtasona- 
bly  imposed  on  them  ;  it  must  be  confessed,  continues 
Polybius,  that  the  conduct  of  the  Romans  is  entir«  ly 
unjustifiable  on  these  two  points,  as  being  founded 
merely  on  violence  and  injustice  ;  and  that,  had  the 
Carthaginians,  without  having  recourse  to  ambiguous 
and  frivolous  pretences,  plainly  demanded  satisfaction 
upon  these  t  wo  grievances,  and"  upon  their  being  refus- 
ed it,  had  declared  war  against  Rome  ;  in  that  case, 
reason  and  justice  had  been  entirely  on  their  side. 

The  interval  between  the  conclusion  of  the  first, 
and  the  beginning  of  t'ne  second,  Punic  war,  was 
twenty-four  years. 


«  Polyb.  p.  174,  175.     Li».  1.  xxi.  n.  16,  17. 
>  Sanctiiate  discipline,  qti  fidem  tocialcm  uique  ad  per 
niciem  suam  colnerunt.     Li'i.  I.  xxi.  n.  7 
•  Polyb.  p.  187.     Li».  I.  xxi.  n.  18,  10 
'  Polrb.  1.  iii.  p.  184,  185. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


101 


Tlie  beginning  of  the  second  Punic  IVar. 

When  war  was  resolved    upon,1 

A.  M  3787.  and  proclaimed  on  both  sides,  Han- 
A.  Carth  629.  iiibal,  who  then  was  twenty-six  or 
A.  Rom.  531.  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  before  he 
An'..  J.  C.  217.  discovered  his  grand  design,  thought 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  provide  lor 
the  securitv  of  Spain  and  Africa.  With  this  view  he 
inarched  the  forcesout  of  the  one  into  the  other,  so  that 
the  Africans  served  in  Spain  and  the  Spaniards  in  Africa 
He  was  prompted  to  this  from  a  persuasion  that  these 
ioUiers,  being  thus  at  a  distance  from  their  respective 
countries,  would  be  litter  for  service  ;  and  more  tirnily 
attached  to  him,  as  they  would  be  a  kind  of  hostages 
for  each  other's  fidelity.  The  forces  which  he  left  in 
Africa  amounted  to  about  40,000  men,  1200  whereof 
were  cavalry.  Those  in  Spain  were  something  above 
15,000,  of  which  2550  were  horse.  He  left  the  com- 
mand of  the  Spanish  forces  to  his  brother  Asdrubal, 
with  a  fleet  of  about  sixty  ships  to  guard  the  coasts  ; 
and,  at  t'le  same  time,  wave  him  the  wisest  directions 
for  his  conduct,  whether  with  regard  to  the  Spaniards 
or  the  Romans,  in  case  they  should  attack  him. 

Llvy  observes,  that  Hannibal,  before  he  set  forward 
on  this  expedition,  went  to  Cadiz  to  discharge  some 
vows  which  he  had  made  to  Hercules  ;  and  that  he 
enquired  himself  bv  new  ones,  in  order  to  obtain  suc- 
cess in  the  war  he  was  entering  upon.  Polvbius  gives 
us,2  in  a  few  word;,  a  very  clear  idea  of  the  distance 
of  the  several  places  through  which  Hannibal  was  to 
march  in  his  way  to  Italy.  From  New  Carthage, 
whence  he  set  out,  to  the  Iberus,  were  computed  22003 
furl.>n.rs.*  From  the  Iberus,  to  Emporium,  a  small 
maritime  town,  which  separates  Spain  from  the  Gauls, 
according  to  Strabo5  were  1600  furlongs.'  From 
Emporium  to  the  pass  of  the  Rhone,  the  like  space  of 
1600  furlongs.7  From  the  pass  of  the  Rhone  to  the 
Al:.s  1-100  furlongs.8  From  the  Alps  to  the  plains  of 
Italy,  1200  furlongs.9  Thus,  from  New  Carthage  to 
the  plains  of  Italy,  were  8000  furlongs.10 

Hannibal  had  long  before  taken  the  prudent  pre- 
caution of  acquainting  himself  with  the  nature  and 
situation  of  the  places  through  which  he  was  to  pass;" 
of  sounding^  how  the  Gauls  stood  affected  to  the 
Romans  ;  of  winning  over  their  chiefs,  whom  he  knew 
to  be  very  greedy  of  goH,  by  his  bounty  to  them  ;'* 
and  of  securing  to  himself  the  affection  and  fidelity 
of  one  part  of  the  nations  through  whose  country  his 
inarch  lajr.  He  was  not  ignorant  that  the  passage  of 
the  Alps  would  be  attended  with  great  difficulties;  but 
he  knew  they  were  not  insurmountable,  and  that  was 
enough  for  His  purpose. 

Hannibal  began  his  march  early  in  the  spring,  from 
New  Carthage,  where  he  had  wintered.15  His  army 
then  consisted  of  above  100,000  men,  of  which  12,000 
we  re  cavalry,  and  he  had  near  forty  elephants.  Having 
crossed  the  Iberus,  he  soon  subdued  the  several  nations 
which  opposed  him  in  his  march,  and  lost  a  considera- 
ble part  of  his  army  in  thisexpedition.  He  left  Hanno 
to  command  all  the  country  lying  between  the  Iberus 
and  the  Pyrenean  hills,  with  11,000  men,  who  were 
apiviinted  to  guard  the  baggage  of  those  that  were  to 
follow  him.  He  dismissed  the  like  number,  sending 
them  bark  to  their  respective  countries  ;  thus  securing 
to  himself  theiraffection  when  he  should  want  recruits, 
and  affordingto  the  rest  a  sure  hope  that  they  should 
6e  allowed  to  return  whenever  they  should  desire  it. 
He  pas-e:l  the  Pyrenean  hills,  and  advanced  as  far  as 
the  banks  of  the  Rhone,  at  the  head  of  50.000  foot,  ant1 


i  folyb.  1.  iii   p.  187.     Liv.  1.  \i\.  n.  21,  22. 

«  T.iti.  iii.  p.  IdS.  193.  •  273  milet. 

«  Pnlvhius  makes  the  rtis'anee  from  New  Carthage  to  be 
8T>00  furlotis?;  censor] uenl I v  the  whole  number  of  furlongs 
will  !>.•  (MOO,  or  (allow-in?  625  feet  to  the  furious)  944  Eng- 
lish mil'1*,  and  almost  one-third.  See  Poll/bins,  edit.  Or»- 
nor.  p.  -J .'-.  •  L  iii.  p.  199.  «  2tX)  miles. 

'  200  mili-B.  •  175  mil^s.  »  150  mile«. 

«•  1000  mile*.          i»   Polvb.  i    iii.  p.  IW,  1-9. 

«a  Aiidirrunt  prfpocrupntoa  jam  ah  Anniliale  Gallornm 
animosesse:  nod  no  illiquHem  ip*i  «Htis  mitem  jenlem  fore, 
Hi  siilimtl"  auro.  ruins  avidis«ima  gens  est.  principum  animi 
tnncili>"itur.  Lir.  1.  \xi.  n.  20. 

«»  Polvb.  p  IS),  190.     Liv  1.  iii.  n.  22—34. 


9000  horse  ;  a  formidable  army,  but  less  so  from  th« 
number  than  from  the  valour  ol  the  troops  that  com- 
posed it;  troops  who  had  served  several  years  in  Spain, 
and  learned  the  art  of  war  under  the  ablest  captains 
that  Carthage  could  ever  boast. 

Passage  of  the  Rhone. 

Hannibal,1*  being  arrived  within  about  four  days' 
march  from  the  mouth  of  the  Rhone,15  attempted  to 
cross  it,  because  the  river  in  this  place  took  up  only  the 
breadth  of  its  channel.  He  bought  up  all  the  ship- 
boats  and  little  vessels  he  could  mett  with,  of  which 
the  inhabitants  had  a  great  number,  because  of  their 
commerce.  He  likewise  built,  with  great  diligence 
a  prodigious  number  of  boats,  little  vessels,  and  rafts. 
On  his  arrival,  he  found  the  Gauls  encamped  on  the 
opposite  bank,  and  prepared  to  dispute  tiie  passage. 
There  was  no  possibility  of  his  attacking  them  in 
front.  He  therefore  ordered  a  considerable  detach 
ment  of  his  forces,  under  the  command  of  Hanno,  the 
son  of  Bomilcar,  to  pass  the  river  higher  up  ;  and  in 
order  to  conceal  his  march,  and  the  citsign  he  had  in 
view,  from  the  enemy,  he  obliged  them  to  set  out  in 
the  night.  All  things  succeeded  as  he  had  planned :  and 
they  passed  the  river  the  next  day  without  the  least 
opposition. 

They  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  in  refreshing  theni- 
!  selves,  and  in  the  night  they  advanced  silently  towards 
the  enemv.     In  the  morning,  when  the  signals  agreed 
upon  had"  been  given,  Hannibal  prepared  to  attempt 
>  the  passage.   Part  of  his  horses,  completely  harnessed, 
,  were  put  into  boats,  that  their  riders  might,  on  land- 
|  ing,  immediately  charge  the  enemy.     The  rest  of  the 
i  horses  swam  over  on  both  sides  of  the  boats,  from 
1  which  one  single  man  held  the  bridles  of  three  or  four. 
The  infantry  crossed  the  river,  either  on  rafts,  or  in          •> 
small  boats,  and  in  a  kjnd  of  gondolas,  which  were 
only    the    trunks    of  trees    which    they    themselves 
had    made    hollow.     The   great  boats  were  drawn 
up  in  a  line  at  the  top  of  the  channel,  in  order  to 
break  the  force  of  the  waves,  and  facilitate  the  pas- 
sage to  the  rest  of  the  small  fleet.     When  ihe  Gauls 
saw  it  advancing  on  the  river,  they,  according  to  their 
custom,  uttered  dreadful  cries  and  howliugs;  and  clash- 
ing their  bucklers  over  their  heads,  one  against  the 
other,  let  fly  a  shower  of  darts.     But  they  were  pro- 
digiously astonished,  when  they  heard  a  great  noise 
behind  them,  perceived  their  tents  on  fire,  and  saw 
themselves  attacked  both  in  front  and  rear.     They 
now  had  no  way  left  to  save  themselves  but  by  flight, 
and  accordingly  retreated  to  their. respective  villages. 
After  this,  the  rest  of  the  troops  crossed  the  river 
quietly,  and  without  any  opposition. 

The  elephants  alone  occasioned  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  They  were  wafted  over  the  next  day  in  the 
following  manner: — From  the  bank  of  the  river  was 
thrown  a  raft,  200  feet  in  length,  and  fifty  in  breadth 
this  was  fixed  strongly  to  the  banks  by  large  ropes, 
and  quite  covered  over  with  earth;  so  that  the  ele- 
phants, deceived  by  its  appearance,  thought  them- 
selves upon  firm  ground.  From  this  first  raft  they 
proceeded  to  a  second,  which  was  built  in  the  same 
form,  but  only  100  feet  long,  and  fastened  to  the  for- 
mer by  chains  that  were  easily  loosened.  The  female 
elephants  were  put  upon  the  first  raft,  and  the  males  fol- 
lowed after;  and  when  they  were  got  upon  the  second 
raft,  it  was  loosened  from  the  first,  and,  by  the  htlp  of 
small  boats,  towed  to  the  opposite  shore.  After  this 
it  was  sent  back  to  fetch  those'which  were  behind 
Some  fell  into  the  water,  but  they  at  last  got  safe  to 
shore,  and  not  a  single  elephant  was  drowned. 

The  March  after  the  Battle  of  the  Rhone. 
The  two  Roman  consuls  had,16  in  the  beginning  ot 
the  spring,  set  out  for  their  respective  province?;  P 
Scipio  for  Spain  with  sixty  ships,  two  Roman  legion*, 
and  14,000  foot,  and  1200 "horse  of  the  allies;  Tibenus 
Sempronius  for  Sicily  with  160  ships,  two  legions, 
16,000  foot,  and  1800  horse  of  the  allies.  The  Ro- 
man legion  consisted,  at  that  time,  of  4000  foot 


i«  Polvb.  1.  iii.  p.  270—274.  edit.  Gronov.  Liv.  I.  xxi.  a. 
26—28.  '  >•  A  little  above  Avigioo. 

••  Polyb.  I.  iii.  p.  200— 202.  &c.     Liv  111.  u.  31,  3St 
(J 


102 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


•ml  300  horse.  Sempronius  had  madeextraordinary 
preparations  at  Lihb.eum,  a  sea-port  town  in  Sicily, 
with  the  design  ol  crossing  over  directly  into  Africa. 
Scipio  was  equally  contideiit  that  he  should  find  Han- 
nibal still  in  Spain,  and  make  that  country  the  seat 
of  war.  But  he  was  greatly  astonished,  when,  on  his 
arrival  at  Marseilles,  advice  was  brought  him,  that 
Hannibal  was  upon  the  banks  of  the  Rhone,  and  pre- 
paring to  cross  it.  He  then  detached  300  horse  to 
view  the  posture  of  the  enemy;  and  Hannibal  de- 
tached 500  Numidian  horse  for  the  same  purpose; 
during  which,  some  of  his  soldiers  were  employed  in 
wafting  over  the  elephants. 

At  the  same  time  he  gave  audience,  in  the  presence 
of  his  whole  army,  to  one  of  the  princes  of  that  part 
of  Gaul  which  is  situated  near  the  Po,  who  assured 
him,  by  an  interpreter,  in  the  name  of  his  subjects, 
th&t  his  arrival  was  impatiently  expected;  that  the 
Gauls  were  ready  to  join  him,  and  march  against  the 
Romans;  and  he  himself  ottered  to  conduct  his  army 
through  places  where  they  should  meet  with  a  plentiful 
supply  of  provisions.  When  the  prince  was  with- 
drawn, Hannibal,  in  a  speech  to  his  troops,  magnified 
extremely  this  deputation  from  the  Gauls;  extolled, 
•with  just  praises,  the  bravery  which  his  forces  had 
shown  hitherto;  and  exhorted  them  to  sustain,  to  the 
last,  their  reputation  and  glory.  The  soldiers,  inspired 
with  fresh  ardour  and  courage,  all  at  once  raised  their 
hands,  and  declared  their  readiness  to  follow  whither- 
soever he  should  lead  the  way.  Accordingly,  he 
appointed  the  next  day  for  his  march ;  and  after  offer- 
ing up  vows,  and  making  supplications  to  the  gods 
for  the  safety  of  his  troops,  he  dismissed  them;  desiring 
at  the  same  time,  that  they  would  take  the  necessary 
refreshments. 

Whilst  this  was  doing,  the  Numidians  returned. 
They  had  met  with,  and  charged,  the  Roman  detach- 
ment: the  conflict  was  very  obstinate,  and  the  slaugh- 
ter great,  considering  the  small  number  of  the  comba- 
tants. A  hundred  and  sixty  of  the  Romans  were  left 
dead  upon  the  spot,  and  more  than  two  hundred  of 
their  enemies.  But  the  honour  of  the  skirmish  fell  to 
the  Romans;  the  Numidians  having  retired  and  left 
them  the  field  of  battle.  This  first  action  was  inter- 
preted as  an  omen  of  the  fate  of  the  whole  war, '  and 
seemed  to  promise  success  to  the  Romans,  but  which, 
at  the  same  time,  would  be  dearly  bought,  and  strong- 
ly contested.  On  both  sides,  those  who  had  survived 
this  engagement,  and  who  had  been  engaged  in  re- 
connoitermg,  returned  to  inform  their  respective  ge- 
nerals of  what  they  had  discovered. 

Hannibal,  as  he  had  declared,  decamped  the  next 
day,  and  crossed  through  the  midst  of  Gaul,  advancing 
northward ;  not  that  this  was  the  shortest  way  to  the 
Alps,  but  only,  as  by  leading  him  from  the  sea,  it 

Erevented  him  meeting  Scipio;  and,  by  that  means, 
ivoured  the  design  he  had,  of  marching  all  his  forces 
into  Italy,  without  having  weakened  them  by  a  bat- 
tle. 

Though  Scipio  marched  with  the  utmost  expedition, 
he  did  not  reach  the  place  where  Hannibal  had  passed 
the  Rhone,  till  three  days  after  he  had  set  out  from  it. 
Despairing  therefore  to  overtake  him,  he  returned  to 
his  fleet,  and  re-embarked,  fully  resolved  to  wait  for 
Hannibal  at  the  foot  of  the  Alps.  But,  in  order  that 
he  might  not  leave  Spain  defenceless,  he  sent  his 
brother  Cneius  thither,  with  the  greatest  part  of  his 
army,  to  make  head  against  Asdrubal I;  and  himself 
»et  forward  immediately  for  Genoa,  with  intention  to 
oppose  the  army  which  was  in  Gaul,  near  the  Po,  to 
that  of  Hannibal. 

The  latter,  after  four  days'  march,  arrived  at  a  kind 
of  Ulan  I,  formed  by  the  conflux  of  two  rivers,  which 
unite  their  streams  in  this  place.  Here  he  was  chosen 
umpire  between  two  brothers,  who  disputed  theirright 
to  the  kingdom.  He  to  whom  Hannibal  decreed  it, 
furnished  hi?  whole  army  with  provision?,  clothes, 
and  arms  This  was  the  country  of  the  AHobroges, 
by  which  name  the  people  were  called,  who  now  in- 

*  Hoc  prinrioium  sitnulnue  omen  beili,  nt  summa  rrrum 
pto*|<erum  eventum.  i'a  hauii  ranc  inrruorlurn  ancipitM'iue 
eet.l«nuiiu  vicicriam  Romanu  portendit.  Lir  I.  ixi.  n.29. 


habit  the  district  of  Genera,  Vienne,2  and  Grenoble 
His  march  was  not  much  interrupted  till  he  arrive.il  at 
the  Durance,  and  from  theuce  he  reached  the  fool  ol 
the  Alps  without  any  opposition. 

The  Passage  rflhe  Alps. 

The  sight  of  these  mountains, 'whose  tops  seemed 
to  touch  the  skies,  and  were  covered  with  snow,  and 
where  nothing  appeared  to  the  eye  but  a  lew  pitiful 
cottages,  scattered  here  and  there,  on  the  sharp  top* 
of  inaccessible  rocks;  no  tiling  but  meagre  docks, 
almost  perished  with  cold,  and  hairy  men  of  a  savage 
and  fierce  aspect;  this  spectacle,  l"say,  renewed  the 
terror  which  the  distant  prospect  had  raised,  and 
chilled  with  fear  the  hearts  of  the  soldiers.  When 
they  began  to  climb  up,  they  perceived  the  mountain- 
eers, who  had  seized  upon  the  highest  clirts,  and  were 
prepared  to  oppose  their  passage.  They,  therefore, 
were  forced  to  halt.  Had  the  mountaineers,  says 
Polybius,  only  lain  in  ambuscade,  and  after  having 
suffered  Hannibal's  troops  to  entangle  themselves  in 
some  difficult  passage,  had  then  charged  them  on  a 
sudden,  the  Carthaginian  army  would  have  been  ir- 
recoverably lost.  Hannibal,  being  informed  that  they 
kept  those  posts  only  in  the  day  time,  and  quitted 
them  in  the  evening,  possessed  himself  of  them  bj 
night.  The  Gauls,  returning  early  in  the  morning, 
were  very  much  surprised  to  find  their  posts  in  the 
enemy's  hand;  but  still  they  were  not  disheartened. 
Being  used  to  climb  up  those  rocks,  they  attacked  the 
Carthaginians,  who  were  upon  their  march,  and 
harassed  them  on  all  sides.  The  latter  were  obliged 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  to  engage  with  the  enemy, 
and  struggle  with  the  ruggcdness  of  the  paths  of  the 
mountains,  where  they  could  hardly  stand.  But  the 
greatest  disorder  was  caused  by  the'horses  and  beasts 
of  burden  laden  with  the  baggage:  who  being  fright 
ened  by  the  cries  and  howling  of  the  Gauls,  which 
echoed  dreadfully  amono;  the  mountains;  and  being 
sometimes  wounded  by  the  mountaineers,  came  tum- 
bling.on  the  soldiers  and  dragged  them  headlong  with 
them  down  the  precip-'ces  which  skirted  the  road. 
Hannibal,  being  sensible  that  the  loss  of  his  baggage 
alone  was  enough  to  destroy  his  army,  ran  to  tne 
assistance  of  his  troops,  who  were  thus  embarrasst  d  ; 
and  having  put  the  enemy  to  flight,  continued  his 
march  without  molestation  or  danger,  and  came  to 
a  castle,  which  was  the  most  important  fortress  in  the 
whole  country.  He  possessed  himself  of  it,  and  of  all 
the  neighbouring  villages,  in  which  he  found  a  large 
quantity  of  corn,  and  cattle  sufficient  to  subsist  his 
army  tnree  days. 

After  a  pretty  quiet  march,  the  Carthaginians  were 
to  encounter  a  new  danger.  The  Gauls  feigning  to 
tafce  advantage  of  the  misfortunes  of  their  neighbours, 
who  had  suffered  for  opposing  the  passage  of  Hanni- 
bal's troops,  came  to  pay  their  respects  to  that  general, 
brought  him  provisions,  offered  to  be  his  guidts,  and 
left  him  hostages,  as  pledges  of  their  fidelity.  How- 
ever, Hannibal  placed  no  great  confidence  in  them. 
The  elephants  and  horses  inarched  in  the  front,  whilst 
himself  followed  with  the  main  body  of  his  foot,  keep- 
ing a  vigilant  eye  over  all.  They  came  at  length  to  a 
very  narrow  and  rugged  pass,  which  was  commanded 
by  an  eminence  where  the  Gauls  had  placed  an  am- 
buscade. These  rushing  out  on  a  sudden,  assailed 
the  Carthaginians  on  every  side,  rolling  down  stones 
upon  them  of  a  prodigious  size.  The  army  would 
have  been  entirely  routed,  had  not  Hannibal  exerted 
himself  in  an  extraordinary  manner  to  extricate  them 
out  of  this  difficulty. 

At  last,  on  the  ninth  day,  they  reached  the  summit 
of  the  Alps.  Here  the  army  halted  two  days,  to  rest 
and  refresh  themselves  after  their  fatigue,  alter  which 
they  continued  their  march.  As  it  was  now  autumn, 
a  great  quantity  of  snow  had  lately  fallen,  and  covered 
alf  the  roads,  which  caused  a  consternation  among 
the  troops,  and  disheartened  them  very  much.  Han- 
nibal perceived  it,  and  halting  on  a  hill  from  whenc* 
there  was  a  prospect  of  all  Italy,  he  showed  them  tb« 


»  In  Dnuphinc. 

»  Polrb.  L  Hi.  p.  203-203.    Liv.  1.  m.  n  32—37 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


103 


fruitful  plains'  watered  by  the  river  Po,  to  which  they 
were  almost  fume;  adding,  that  they  had  but  one 
effort  more  to  make,  before  they  arrived  at  them.  He 
represented  to  them,  that  a  battle  or  two  would  put  a 

fionous  periou  to  their  toils,  and  enrich  them  for  ever 
y  giving  them  possession  of  the  capital  of  the  Roman 
empire.  This  speech,  filled  with  such  pleasing  hopes, 
and  enforced  bv  the  sight  of  Italy,  inspired  the  dejected 
soldiers  with  fresh  vigour  and  alacrity.  The)  there- 
fore pursued  their  march.  But  still  the  road  was  more 
crajrgv  and  troublesome  than  ever;  and  as  they  were 
now  on  a  descent,  the  difficulty  and  danger  increased. 
For  the  ways  were  narrow,  steep  and  slippery,  inmost 
placec;  so  that  the  soldiers  could  neither  keep  upon 
thrir  feet  as  they  marched,  nor  recover  themselves 
when  they  made  a  false  step,  but  stumbled  and  beat 
down  jne  another. 

They  were  now  come  to  a  worse  place  than  any 
they  had  yet  met  with.  This  was  a  path  naturally 
very  rushed  an  1  craggy,  which  having  been  made 
more  so  by  the  late  falling  in  of  the  earth,  terminated 
in  a  frightful  precipice  above  a  thousand  feet  deep. 
Heretae  cavalry  stopped  short.  Hannibal,  wondering 
at  the  sudden  halt,  ran  to  the  place,  and  saw  that  it 
reallv  would  be  impossible  for  the  troops  to  advance. 
He  therefore  was  for  making  a  circuitous  route,  but 
this  also  was  found  impracticable.  As  upon  the  old 
snow,  \vhi  -h  w;i~  "Town  hard  bv  lying,  there  was  some 
newly  fallen,  that  was  of  no  great  depth,  the  feet  at 
first,  "by  their  sinking  into  it,  found  a  firm  support; 
but  tliis  snow  being  soon  dissolved,  by  the  treading 
of  the  foremost  troops  and  beasts  of  burden,  the  sol- 
diers marched  on  nothing  but  ice,  which  was  so 
•lippery  that  they  had  no  firm  footing,  and  where,  if 
thev  nnde  the  least  false  step,  or  endeavoured  to  save 
themselves  with  their  hands  or  knees,  there  were  no 
boughs  or  roots  to  catrh  hold  of.  Besides  this  diffi- 
cult*-, the  horses,  striking  their  feet  forcibly  into  the 
ire  to  keep  themselves  from  falling,  could  not  draw 
them  out  airain,  but  were  caught  as  in  agin.  They 
therefore  were  forced  to  seek  some  other  expedient. 
Hannibal  resolved  to  pitch  his  camp,  and  to  give 
his  troops  some  days'  rest  on  the  summit  of  this  hill, 
which  was  of  a  considerable  extent  ;  after  they  should 
have  cleared  the  ground,  and  removed  all  the  old  as 
well  as  the  new-fallen  snow,  which  was  a  work  of 
immense  I  iboiir.  He  afterwards  ordered  a  path  to  be 
cut  into  the  rork  itself,  and  this  was  carried  on  with 
annzinir  p.itience  and  ardour.  To  open  and  enlarge 
thi-  ')ith,ali  the  trees  thereabouts,  were  cut  down,  and 
piltd  around  the  rock;  after  which  fire  was  set  to 
them.  The  wind,  by  good  fortune,  blowing  hard,  a 
fierce  flame  soon  broke  out,  so  tnat  the  rock  glowed 
l;k"  t':«'  very  coils  with  which  it  was  surrounded. 
Tiien  H  innibal,  it"  I.  ivy  may  be  credited  (for  Polybius 
sav«  irjUrnx  of  this  mutter,)  caused  a  great  quantity 
of  vinegar  to  be  poured  on  the  rock,  which  piercing 
int  )  the  v  ins  of  it,  that  were  now  cracked  by  the 
intense  heit  of  the  fire,  calcined  and  softened  it. 
i  iirmner,  taking  a  large  compass  about,  in 

or'ler  that  the  descent  might  be  easier,  they  cut  away 
al  >ii'r  f'e  rock  which  opened  a  free  passage  to  the 
forces,  the  bairSHifp,  and  even  to  the  elephants.  Four 
da\s  were  employed  in  this  work,  during  which  the 
beasts  of  burden  were  dying  with  hunger;  there  being 
no  fo  >'.!  for  them  on  these  mountains,  buried  under 
et'rnil  snows.  At  last  they  came  into  cultivated  and 
fruiful  <p  >ts  which  yielded  plenty  of  forage  for  the 
orses,  and  all  kinds  of  food  for  the  soldiers. 

Hannibal  enters  Italy. 

When  Hannibal  entered  into  Italy,  his  army  wai  not 
near  so  numerous  as  when  he  left  Spain,  where  we  have 
»een  it  amounted  to  near  60,000  men.s  It  had  sustain- 
ed great  I  •-<;•«  thiriirzthe  march.either  inthe  battlesit 
•  •  >•  I  to  fight,  or  in  the  passage  of  riverg.  At  his 
tlena'-t'ire  from  the  Rhune,  it  still  consisted  of  38,000 
fo  it.  *n  !  a'vjve  8iHM)  horse.  The  march  over  the  Alps 
ile«tv  >v^''  ii'  ar  half  this  number;  so  that  Hannibal  had 
inw  remi'uiing  only  12,000  Africans,  8000  Spanish 


•  Of  IN  •rlmont 

»  rul>b  I.  iii.  p.  209,212-214.     Liv.  1.  xsi.  n.39. 


foot,  and  6000  horse.  This  account  he  himself  caused 
to  be  engraved  on  a  pillar  near  the  promontory  called 
Lacinium.  It  was  five  months  and  a  half  since  hi* 
first  setting  out  from  Kew  Carthage,  including  the 
fortnight  he  employed  in  marching  over  the  Alp*. 
when  ne  get  up  his  standards  in  the  plains  of  the  Po, 
at  the  entrance  of  Piedmont.  It  might  then  be  Sep- 
tember. 

His  first  care  was  to  give  his  troops  some  rest, 
which  they  very  much  wanted.  When  he  perceived 
that  they  were  fit  for  action,  the  inhabitants  of  the 
teritories  of  Turin3  refusing  to  conclude  an  alliance 
with  him,  he  marched  and  encamped  before  the  chief 
city  ;  carried  it  in  three  days,  and  put  all  who  had 
opposed  him  to  the  sword.  This  expedition  struck  the 
barbarians  with  so  much  dread,  that  they  all  came 
voluntarily  and  surrendered  at  discretion.  The  rest 
of  the  Gauls  would  have  done  the  same,  had  they  not 
been  awed  by  the  terror  of  the  Roman  arms,  which 
were  now  approaching.  Hannibal  thought  therefore 
that  he  had  no  time  to  lose  ;  that  it  was  his  interest  to 
march  up  into  the  country,  and  attempt  some  great 
exploit ;  such  as  might  inspire  those  who  should  have 
an  inclination  to  join  him  with  confidence. 

The  rapid  progress  .which  Hannibal  had  made, 
greatly  alarmed  Rome,  and  caused  the  utmost  con- 
sternation throughout  the  city.  Sempronius  was  or- 
dered to  leave  Sicily,  and  hasten  to  the  relief  of  hi* 
country  ;  and  P.  Scipio,  the  other  consul,  advanced 
by  forced  marches  towards  the  enemy,  crossed  the  Po, 
and  pitched  his  camp  near  the  Ticinus.4 

Battle  of  the  Cavalry  near  the  Ticinus. 

The  armies  being  now  in  sight,  the  generals  on 
each  side  made  a  speech  to  their  soldiers  before  they 
engaged.5  Scipio,  after  having  represented  to  his 
forces  the  glory  of  their  country,  the  achievements  of 
their  ancestors,  observed  to  them,  that  victory  was  in 
their  hands,  since  they  were  to  combat  only  with 
Carthaginians,  a  people  who  had  been  so  often  de- 
feated by  them,  as  well  as  forced  to  be  their  tributaries 
for  twenty  years,  and  long  accustomed  to  be  almost 
their  slaves  :  that  the  advantage  they  had  gained  over 
the  flower  of  the  Carthaginian  horse,  was  a  sure  omen 
of  their  success  during  the  rest  of  the  war  ;  that  Han- 
nibal, in  his  march  over  the  Alps,  had  just  before  lost 
the  best  part  of  his  army  ;  and  that  those  who  survived 
were  exhausted  bv  hunger,  cold,  and  fatigue  ;  that  the 
bare  sight  of  the  Romans  was  sufficient  to  put  to  flight 
a  parcel  of  soldiers,  who  had  the  aspects  of  ghosts 
rather  than  of  men  :  in  a  word,  that  victory  was  be- 
come necessary,  not  only  to  secure  Italy,  but  to  save 
Rome  itself,  whose  fate  the  present  battle  would  de- 
cide, as  that  city  had  no  other  amiy  wherewith  to 
oppose  the  enemy. 

Hannibal,  that  his  words  might  make  the  stronger 
impression  on  the  rude  minds  of  his  soldiers,  speaks 
to  their  eyes,  before  he  addresses  their  ears  ;  and  does 
not  attempt  to  persuade  them  by  urguments,  till  he  has 
first  moved  them  by  the  following  spectacle.  He  arms 
some  of  the  prisoners  whom  he  had  taker,  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  obliges  them  to  fight,  two  and  two,  in  sisrht 
of  his  army  ;  promising  to  reward  the  conquerors  with 
their  liberty  and  rich  presents.  The  alacrity  wherewith 
the  barbarians  engaged  upon  these  motives,  gives 
Hannibal  an  occasion  of  exhibiting  to  his  soldiers  a 
lively  image  of  their  present  condition  ;  which,  by  de- 
priving them  of  all  means  of  returning  back,  puts  them 
under  an  absolute  necessity  either  of  conquering  or 
dying,  in  order  to  avoid  the  endless  evils  prepared  for 
those  that  should  be  so  base  and  cowardly  as  to  sub- 
mit to  the  Romans.  He  displays  to  them  tne  greatness 
of  their  reward,  viz.  the  conquest  of  all  Italy  ;  the 
plunder  of  the  rich  and  wealthy  •  itv  of  Rome  ;  an 
illustrious  victory,  and  immortaf  glory.  He  speaks 
contemptuously  of  the  Roman  power,  the  false  lustre 


»  Taurini. 

4  [This  river  is  now  called  the  Tcsino.  It  fall*  into  thu 
Po,  on  the  left  bunk.  It  is  a  larpe  stream,  coming  fn  m  th« 
St  Gothard.  and  which,  after  watering  Ihe  I.ivmcr  Val,  of 
Levantine  valley,  enterh  and  passes  through  tht-  La;o  Ma$- 
fiore,  and  thence  running  S.  E.  enters  the  Pi  holnw  1'ivu.) 

•  Polyb.  I.  iii.  D.  214— 9V*     Liv.  1.  xxi.  Q.  39—17. 


104 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


of  winch  (he  observed}  ought  not  to  darzle  such  war- 
rior? us  themselves,  wno  had  marched  from  the  pil- 
lars of  Hercules,  through  the  fiercest  nations,  into 
the  very  centre  of  Italy.  As  for  his  own  part,  he 
scorns  to  compare  himself  with  Scipio,  a  general  of 
but  six  nu  -ths'  standing  ;  himself,  who  was  almost 
born,  at  least  brought  up  in  the  tent  of  Hamilcar  his 
father  ;  the  conqueror  of  Spain,  ol  Gaul»  of  the  ioha- 
uitants  of  the  Alps,  and,  what  is  still  more,  conqueror 
of  the  Alps  themselves.  He  rouses  their  indignation 
against  the  insolence  of  the  Romans,  who  had  dared 
to  demand  that  himself,  and  the  rest  who  had  taken 
Saguutum,  should  be  delivered  up  to  them  :  and  ex- 
cites their  jealousy  against  the  intolerable  pride  of 
those  imperious  masters,  who  imagined  that  all  things 
ought  to  obey  them,  and  that  they  had  a  right  to  gi\e 
'*  ws  to  the  whole  world. 

After  these  speeches,  both  sides  prepare  for  battle. 
Scipio,  having  thrown  a  bridge  across  the  Ticinus, 
inarched  his  troops  over  it.  Two  ill  omens,1  had 
filled  his  army  with  consternation  and  dread.  As  for 
the  Carthaginians,  they  were  inspired  with  the  boldest 
courage.  Hannibal  animates  them  with  fresh  promi- 
ses, and  cleaving  with  a  stone  the  skull  of  the  lamb  he 
was  sacrificing,  he  pravs  Jupiter  to  dash  to  pieces  his 
head  in  like  manner,  in  case  he  did  not  give  his  sol- 
diers the  rewards  he  had  promised  them. 

Scipio  posts,  in  the  first  line,  the  troops  armed  with 
missive  weapons,  and  the  Gaulish  horse  ;  and  forming 
his  second  line  of  the  flowerof  the  confederate  cavalry, 
he  advances  slowly.  Hannibal  advanced  with  h'is 
whole  cavalry,  in  the  centre  of  which  he  had  posted  the 
troopers  who  rode  with  bridles,  and  the  Xumk'.ian 
horsemen*  on  the  wings,  in  order  to  surround  the  eiie- 
my.  The  officers  and  cavalry  being  eager  to  engage,  a 
charge  ensues.  At  the  first  onset,  Scipio's  liarht-armed 
soldiers  had  scarcely  discharged  their  darts,  when, 
frighted  at  the  Carthaginian  cavalry,  which  came  pour- 
ing upon  them,  and  fearing  lest  they  should  be  tram- 
pled under  the  horses' feet,  they  gave  way,  and  retired 
through  the  intervals  of  the  squadrons.  The  fight  con- 
tinued a  long  time  with  equal  success.  Many  troopers 
on  both  sides  dismounted ,  so  that  the  battle  was  carried 
on  between  infantry  as  well  as  cavalry.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  Numidians  surround  the  enemy,  and  charg-e 
the  rear  of  the  light-armed  troops,  who  at  first  had  es- 
caped the  attack  of  the  cavalry,  and  tread  them  under 
their  horses'  feet.  The  centre  of  the  Roman  forces  had 
hitherto  fought  with  great  bravery.  Many  were  killed 
on  both  sides,  and  even  more  on  that  of  the  Carthagi- 
nians. But  the  Roman  troops  were  put  into  disorder 
by  the  Numidians,  who  attacked  them  in  the  rear  ; 
and  especially  by  a  wound  the  consul  received,  which 
disabled  him  from  continuing  the  combat.  However, 
this  general  was  rescued  out  of  the  enemy's  hands  by 
the  bravery  o!  his  son,  then  but  seventeen  years  old"; 
and  who  afterwards  was  honoured  with  the  surname  of 
Africanus,  for  having  put  a  glorious  period  to  this  war. 

The  consul,  though  dangerously  wounded,  retreat- 
ed in  good  order,  and  was  conveyed  to  his  camp  by 
a  body  of  horse,  who  covered  him  with  iheir  arms  and 
bodies:  the  rest  of  the  army  followed  him  thither.  He 
hastened  to  the  Po,  which  he  crossed  with  his  army, 
and  then  brokedown  the  bridge,  whereby  he  prevented 
Hannibal  from  overtaking  him. 

It  is  agreed,  that  Hannibal  owed  this  first  victory  to 
his  cavalry  ;  and  it  was  judged  from  thenceforth  that 
the  main  strength  of  his  army  consisted  in  his  horse  ; 
and  therefore,  that  it  would  be  proper  for  the  Romans 
to  avoid  large  open  plains,  such  as  those  between  the 
Po  and  the  Alps. 

Immediately  after  the  battle  of  the  Ticinus,  nil  the 
neighbouring  Gauls  seemed  to  contend  who  should  sub- 
mit thems*  Ives  first  to  Hannibal,  furnish  him  with  am- 
munition,and  enlist  in  his  army.  And  this, as  Polvbius 
has  observed,  was  what  chiefly  induced  that  wi*e  and 


«  These  two  ill  omens  were,  first,  a  wolf  had  stolen  into 
Ihe  camp  of  the  Roman*,  and  cruelly  mangled  some  of  the 
soldiers,  without  receiving  'he  len«i  harm  from  those  who 
end-avour  d  to  kill  it;  and,  secondly,  a  swarm  of  IK-PS  had 
pitched  ii|»xi  a  tree  near  the  Prtetorium,  or  general's  tent. 
Ijr.  '  xxi  c..  40. 

•  Tnc  Numidiant  used  to  ride  without  saddle  or  jridle. 


skilful  general,  notwithstanding  the  small  number  aid 
weakness  of  his  troops,  to  hazard  a  battle;  which  ha 
indeed  was  now  obliged  to  venture,  from  the  inmossi 
bility  of  marching  back  whenever  he  should  desire  to 
do  it ;  because  nothing  but  a  battle  would  oblige  the 
Gauls  to  declare  for  him,  whose  assistance  was  the 
only  refuge  he  then  had  left. 

Battle  of  the  Trebia. 

Sempronius  the  consul,3  upon  the  orders  he  had  re- 
ceived from  the  senate,  was  returned  from  Sicily  to 
Ariminum.  From  thence  he  marched  towards  the 
Trebia,*  a  small  river  of  Lombardv,  which  tolls  into 
the  Po  a  little  above  I  lare  ntfa.  w lit  re  he  joined  hit 
forces  to  those  of  Scipio.  Hannibal  advanced  toward* 
the  camp  of  the  Romans,  from  which  tie  i\  as  separated 
only  by  that  small  river.  The  armies  lying  ;o  near 
one  another,  gave  occasion  to  frequent  skirmishes,  in 
one  of  which  Sempronius,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of 
horse,  gained  some  advantage  over  a  party  of  Car'tha- 
ginians,  very  trifling  indeeit,  but  which  nevertheless 
very  much  increased  the  good  opinion  this  general  na- 
turally entertained  of  his  own  merit. 

This  inconsiderable  success  seemed  to  him  a  com- 
plete victory.  He  boasted  his  having  vanquished  the 
enemy  in  the  same  kind  of  fight  in  which  his  n.lleague 
had  been  defeated,  and  that  he  thertb;  ha.i  it\!\to  the 
courage  of  the  dejected  Romans.  Leiug  now  reso- 
lutely bent  to  come,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  a  decisive 
battle,  he  thought  it  proper,  for  decency's  sake,  to  con- 
sult Scipio,  whom  he  found  of  a  quite  different  opinion 
from  himself.  Scipio  represented,  that  in  case  time 
should  be  allowed  for  disciplining  the  new  levies  during 
the  winter,  they  would  be  much  titter  for  service  in  the 
ensuing  campaign;  that  the  Gauls,  who  were  naturally 
fickle  and  inconstant,  would  disengage  themselves  in- 
sensibly from  Hannibal  ;  that  as  soon  as  his  wounds 
should  be  healed,  his  presence  might  be  of  some  use 
in  an  affair  of  such  general  concern  :  in  a  word,  he 
besought  him  earnestly  not  to  proceed  any  farther. 

These  reasons,  though  so  just,  made  no  impression 
upon  Sempronius.  He  saw  himself  ;it  the  head  of  16- 
000  Romans,  and  20,000  allies,  exclusive  of  cavalry  (a 
number  which,  in  those  ages,  formed  a  complete  army), 
when  both  consuls  joined  their  forces.  The  troops  of 
the  enemy  amounted  to  near  the  same  number.  He 
thought  the  juncture  extremely  favourable  for  him. 
He  declared  publicly,  that  all  th'e  officers  and  soldier* 
were  desirous  of  a  battle,  except  his  colleague,  whose 
mind  (he  observed)  being  more  affected  by  his  wound 
than  his  body ,  could  not.  for  that  reason,  bear  to  hear 
of  an  engagement.  But  still,  continued  Sempronius, 
is  it  just  tolet  the  whole  army  droop  and  languish  with 
him?  \\~hatcouIdScipioexpectmore?  Lid  he  flat- 
ter himself  with  the  hopes  that  a  third  consul,  and  a 
new  army,  would  come  to  his  assistance  ?  Such  w»  re 
the  expressionshe  employed, both  among  the  soldiers, 
and  even  about  Scipio's  tent.  The  time  for  the  elec- 
tion of  new  generals  drawing1  near,  Sempronius  was 
afraid  a  successor  would  be  sent  before  he  had  putan 
end  to  the  war  ;  and  therefore  it  was  his  opinion,  that 
he  ought  to  take  advantage  of  his  colleague's  illness, 
to  secure  the  whole  honour  of  the  victory  to  himself. 
As  he  had  no  regard,  says  Polvbius,  to  the  time  proper 
for  action,  and  only  to  that  which  he  thought  suited 
his  own  interest,  he  could  not  fail  of  taking  wrong  mea- 
sures. He  therefore  ordered  his  army  to  prepare  foi 
battle. 

This  was  the  very  thing  Hannibal  desired  ;  as  he 
held  it  for  a  maxim, 'that  a  general  who  has  entered  a 


»  PtJyb.  I.  iii.  p.  220- 2S7.     Lir.  I.  xxi.  n.  51—56. 

«  [This  stream  is  the  modern  Trebia.  It  tire*  in  the  Ap- 
penines,  and  is  composed  of  a  multitude  of  torrents,  which 
when  swollen  hy  the  melted  snows  arrumulaleil  during  the 
winter  amongst  the  ridges  of  the  AjneniiiM,  form  a  con- 
sidernhle  xtream  of  more  than  a  mile  broad,  and  of  vast 
rapidity.  During  the  summer  heats  its  channel  u  almost 
wholly  dry.  A  memorable  engagement  of  ihree  davs  suc- 
cessively, between  Marshal  Suwarrow  anct  Marshal  Mac- 
donald,  took  place  on  the  hunk?  of  thi.*  stream  in  June, 
]~W,  when  the  French  were  defeated,  witli  iirrnt  loss  on 
hoth  uides.  When  Suwarrow  was  complimented  01.  tliii 
victory  as  being  a  second  Hannibal,  he  tcplied. 
suc/t  victory,  and  tee  are  ruinea.'] 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


105 


<)Hs:.gn  country,  or  one  possessed  by  the  enemy,  and 
has  formed  some  great  design,  has  no  other  refuge  left, 
than  continually  to  raise  the  expectations  of  his  allies 
bv  some  fresh  exploits.  Besides,  knowing  that  he 
ihoul.l  h;we  to  deal  only  with  new-levied  and  inexpe- 
rienced troops,  he  was  desirous  of  taking  advantage 
of  the  ardour  of  the  Gauls,  who  were  extremely  tiesi- 
rous  of  fighting  ;  and  of  Scipio's  absence,  wno,  by 
reason  of  his  wound,  could  not  be  present  in  the  baltle. 
Mago  was  therefore  ordered  to  lie  in  ambush  with2()00 
men,  consisting  of  horse  and  foot,  on  the  steep  banks 
of  a  small  rivulet  which  ran  between  the  two  camps, 
an:l  to  conceal  himself  among  the  bushes  that  were 
very  thick  there.  An  ambuscade  is  often  safer  in  a 
smooth  open  country,  but  full  of  thickets,  as  this  was, 
than  in  woods,  because  such  a  spot  is  less  apt  to  be 
suspectel.  He  afterwards  caused  a  detachment  of 
Numidian  cavalry  to  cross  the  Trebia.with  orders  to 
advance  at  break  of  dav  as  far  as  the  very  barriers  of 
the  enemy's  camp,  in  order  to  provoke  them  to  fight; 
and  then  to  retreat  and  repass  the  river,  in  order  to 
draw  the  Romans  after  them.  What  he  had  foreseen, 
came  directly  to  pass.  The  fiery  Sempronius  imme- 
diately detached  his  whole  cavalry  against  the  Numi- 
dians,  an  i  then  6000  light-armed  troops,  who  were 
soon  followed  bv  all  the  rest  of  the  army.  The  Ku- 
Btridiana  fled  designedly  ;  upon  which  the  Romans 
pursiierl  them  with  great  eagerness,  and  crossed  the 
Trebia  without  resistance,  but  not  without  great  diffi- 
culty, being  forced  to  wade  up  to  their  very  arm-pits 
through  the  rivulet,  which  was  swollen  with  the  tor- 
rents that  had  fallen  in  the  night  from  the  neighbour- 
ing in  >un  tains.  It  was  then  about  the  winter-solstice, 
tliat  is,  in  December.  It  happened  to  snow  that  day, 
and  the  r.oH  was  excessively  piercing.  The  Romans 
had  left  their  camp  fasting,  and  without  having  taken 
the  least  precaution  ;  whereas  the  Carthaginians  had, 
1'v  Hannibal's  order,  eaten  and  drunk  plentifully  in 
tfieirtrnU  ;  had  got  their  horses  in  readiness,  rubbed 
themselves  with  oil,  and  put  on  their  armour  by  the 
fire-side. 

They  were  thus  prepared  when  the  fight  began. 
The  Rom-ins  defended  themselves  valiantly  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  though  they  were  half  spent  with  hun- 
ger, fatigue,  and  cold  ;  but  their  cavalry  was  at  last 
brokf  n  and  put  to  flight  by  that  of  the  Carthaginians, 
which  much  exceeded  theirs  in  numbers  and  strength. 
The  infantry  also  were  soon  in  great  disorder.  The 
soldiers  in  ambuscade  sallying  out  at  a  proper  time, 
rushed  on  a  sudden  upon" their  rear,  and  completed 
the  overthrow.  A  body  of  above  10,000  men  reso- 
lutely fought  their  way  through  the  Gauls  and  Afri- 
cans, of  whom  they  made  a  dreadful  slaughter;  but  as 
they  could  neither  assist  their  friends  nor  return  to  the 
camp,  the  way  to  it  being  cut  off  by  the  Numidian 
horse,  the  river,  and  the  rain,  they  retreated  in  good 
order  to  Pl,tc<=  ntia.  Most  of  the  rest  lost  their  lives  on 
the  hanks  of  the  river,  being  trampled  to  pieces  by  the 
elephants  and  horses.  Those  who  escaped  went  and 
joined  the  body  above-mentioned.  The  next  night 
Sripin  retired  also  to  Placentia.  The  Carthaginians 
gained  a  complete  victory,  and  their  loss  was  incon- 
sidi  rable,  except  that  a  great  number  of  their  horses 
were  destroyed  bv  the  cold,  the  rain,  and  the  snow  ; 
and  that  of  all  their  elephants,  they  saved  but  one 
only. 

In  Spain,  the  Romans  had  better  success  in  this  and 
the  following  campaign  ;'  for  Cn.  Scipio  extended 
his  conquests  as  far  as  the  river  Iberus,1  defeated 
Hanno  air!  tr>ok  him  prisoner. 

Hannibal  took  the  opportunity ,'  whilst  he  was  in 
wintf-r  quarters,  to  refresh  his  troops,  and  gain  the  af- 
fection of  the  natives.  For  this  purpose,  after  having 
declared  to  the  prisoners  whom  he  had  taken  from  the 
allies  of  th^  Romans,  that  he  was  not  rome  with  the 
view  of  making;  war  upon  them,  but  of  restoring  the 
Italics  to  their  liberty,  and  protertinz  them  against 
the  Romans,  he  sent  them  all  home  to  their  own  coun- 
tries, without  requiring  the  least  ransom. 

The  winter  was  no  sooner  over,'  than  he  set  out  to- 


i  Pokb.  I.  iii.  p  <£>=>.  ?2!1.     Liv.  1.  xxi.  n.  CO,  61. 

«  Oi  E!)ro.         »  Polyb.  p.  229.          «  Liv.  1.  «i.  n.58. 

VOL    I— 14 


wards  Tuscany,  whither  lie  hastened  his  march  for 
two  important  reasons:  First,  to  avoid  the  ill  effects 
which  would  arise  from  the  ill  will  of  the  Gauls,  who 
were  tired  with  the  long  stay  of  the  Carthaginian  army 
in  their  terrkories,  and  were  impatient  of  bearing  the 
whole  burden  of  a  war,  in  which  they  had  engaged 
with  no  other  view  than  to  carry  it  int6  the  country 
of  their  common  enemy:  secondly,  that  he  might  in- 
crease,by  some  bold  exploit,  the  reputation  ot  disarms 
in  the  minds  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  Italy,  bv  carrying 
the  war  to  the  very  gates  of  Rome;  and  at  the  same 
time  reanimate  his  troops,  and  the  Gauls  his  allies,  by 
the  plunder  of  the  enemy's  lands.  But  in  his  march 
over  the  Appenines,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  dreadful 
storm,  which  destroyed  great  numbers  of  his  men. 
The  cold,  the  rain,  the  wind,  and  hail,  seemed  to  con- 
spire his  ruin;  so  that  the  fatigues  which  the  Cartha- 
ginians had  undergone  in  crossing  the  Alps  stoned 
less  dreadful  than  those  they  no;v  suffered.  He  there- 
fore marched  back  to  Placentia,  where  he  again  fought 
Sempronius,  who  was  returned  from  Rome.  The  loss 
on  both  sides  was  very  nearly  equal. 

Whilst  Hannibal  was  in  these  winter-quarters,1  he 
hit  upon  a  true  Carthaginian  stratagem.  He  was  sur- 
rounded with  fickle  and  inconstant  nations ;  the  friend- 
ship he  had  contracted  with  them  was  but  of  recent 
date.  He  had  reason  to  apprehend  a  change  in  their 
disposition,  and,  consequently,  that  attempts  would 
be  made  upon  his  life.  To  secure  himstlf,  therefore, 
he  got  perukes  made,  and  clothes  suited  to  every  age. 
Of  these  he  sometimes  wore  one,  sometimes  another, 
and  disguised  bimstll  so  often,  that  not  merely  such  as 
saw  him  only  trans. ri,u\  but  even  his  intimate  ac- 
quaintance, coul  j  scarce  kiK-w  him. 

At  Rome,  C'     Servilius  ano  C. 

Flaminius  hn..  been  appointed  con  A.  M.  3768. 

suls.2  Han  nal  having  advice  that  \.  Rom.  532. 
the  latter"  *J  advanced  already  as  far 
as  Arre'  ii,3  a  town  ol  Tuscany,  resolved  i<  ~o  and 
engage  in  as  soon  as  possible.  Two  ways  in'ng 
shown  .-KIM.  he  rhose  the  shortest,  though  tht  iiii.« 
trouh'fsoiin'.  na\,almust  impassable.  b\  n-a.-oi.  ui  ~ 
fen  whii-h  he  wn««  forced  to  go  through.  Here  thtr  HI-MI* 
suffered  mcre<tiMe  hardships.  During  foui  dav*  and 
three  nights  the\  'iiarrliPti  halfway  up  the  leg  m  wa- 
ter, and,  consequent'  v  <~nnl<l  nolgf  t  HUH  mini  t's  ^it-ep. 
Hannibal  himself,  who  !•••»•  !«•  ujinn  the  only  elephant  he 
had  left,  could  hardly  get  iS-ou^h.  Hi?  long  want  of 
sleep,  and  the  thick  vapours  w  hich  exhnlc-rl  from  that 
marshy  place,  together  with  the  unhealthines?  o'  the 
season,  cost  him  one  of  his  eyes. 

Battle  ofThrasymtnus. 

Hannibal  being  thus  got,  almost  unexpectedly  * 
out  of  this  dangerous  situation,  and  having  refresn<vj 
his  troops,  marched  and  pitched  his  camp  between  Ar- 
retium  and  Fesulae,  in  the  richest  and  most  fruitful 
part  of  Tuscany.  His  first  endeavours  were  to  dis- 
cover the  disposition  of  Flaminius,  in  order  that  he 
might  take  advantage  of  his  weak  side,  which,  accord- 
ing to  Polybius,  ought  to  be  the  chief  study  of  a  gener- 
al. He  was  told,  that  Flaminius  was  greatly  conceit- 
ed of  his  own  merit,  bold,  enterprising,  rash,  and  fond 
of  glory.  To  plunge  him  the  deeper  into  these  ex- 
cesses, to  which  he  was  naturally  prone,  8  he  inflam- 
ed his  impetuous  spirit,  by  laying  waste  and  burning 
the  whole  country  in  his  sight. 

Flaminius  was  not  of  a  temper  to  continue  inactive 
in  his  camp, even  if  Hannibal  had  lain  still  But  when 
he  saw  the  territories  of  his  allies  laid  waste  before  his 
eves,  he  thought  it  would  reflect  dishonour  upon  him 
should  he  suffer  Hannibal  to  ransack  Italy  without 
control,  and  even  advance  to  the  very  walls  of  Rome 
without  meeting  any  resistance.  He  rejected  with 
scorn  the  prudent  counsels  of  those  who  advised  him 
to  wait  the  arrival  of  his  colleague,  and  to  be  satisfied 


i  Polyb.  ].  iii.  p.  22!).  Liv.  I.  xxii.  n.  1.  Appian.  in  Bell 
Annib.  p.  31<i.  »  Polvh.  p.  230,  231.  Liv.  1.  xxji.  n.  2. 

'  [Now  called  Arezzo.T 
'  «  Polyb.  I.  iii.  p  231—238.     Liv.  1.  xxii.  n.  3—8. 

•  Apparebat  ferociter  omnia  ac  prtppropcre  artirom. 
Quoijue  pronior  esset  in  sua  vitia.  agitare  eum  atqw  iiri- 
tare  Pceiius  parat.  Liv.  1.  xiii.  n.  3. 


106 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


for  the  present,  with  putting  a  stop  to  the  devastation 
of  tlin  enemy. 

la  the  mean  time,  Hannibal  was  still  advancing  to- 
wards Rome,  having  Cortona  on  the  left  hand, anil  the 
lake  Thrasynienus'  on  his  right.  When  he  saw  that 
the  consul  followed  close  after  him,  with  design  to  give 
him  battle. in  order  to  stop  him  in  his  march;  having 
observed  that  the  ground  was  convenient  for  an  en- 
gagement, he  thought  only  of  making  preparations  for 
it.  The  lake  Thrasvmenus  and  the  mountains  of 
Cortona  form  a  very  narrow  defile,  which  leads  into  a 
large  valley,  hned  on  both  sides,  with  hills  of  a  con- 
siderable height,  and  closed,  at  the  outlet,  by  a  steep 
hill  of  difficult  access.  On  this  hill,  Hannibal,  after 
having  crossed  the  valley  came  and  encamped  with  the 
main  body  of  his  army,  posting  his  light-armed  infantry 
in  ambuscade  upon  the  hills  on  the  right,  and  part  of 
his  cavalry  behind  those  on  the  left,  as  far  almost  as 
the  entrance  of  the  defile,  through  which  Flaminius 
was  obliged  to  pass.  Accordingly,  this  general,  who 
followed  him  very  eagerly,  with  the  resolution  to  fight 
him,  being  come  to  the  defile  near  the  lake,  was  forced 
to  halt,  because  night  was  coming  on;  but  he  entered 
it  the  next  morning  at  daybreak. 

Hannibal  having  permitted  him  to  advance,  with  all 
his  forces,  above  half  way  through  the  valley,  and  see- 
ing the  Roman  van-guard  pretty  near  him,  gave  the 
signal  forthebattle.and  commanded  his  troops  to  come 
out  of  their  ambuscade,  in  order  that  he  might  attack 
the  enemv  at  the  same  time  from  all  quarters.  The 
reader  may  guess  at  the  consternation  with  which  the 
Romans  were  seized. 

They  were  not  yet  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle, 
neither  had  they  got  their  arms  in  readiness,  when 
they  found  themselves  attacked  in  front,  in  rear.and  in 
flank.  In  a  moment,  all  the  ranks  were  put  into  disor- 
der. Flaminius  alone  undaunted  in  so  universal  a 
consternation,  animates  his  soldiers  both  with  his  hand 
and  voice,  and  exhorts  them  to  cut  themselves  a  pas- 
sage with  their  swords  through  the  midst  of  the  enemy. 
But  the  tumult  which  reigned  every  where,  the  dread- 
ful shouts  of  the  enemy,  and  a  fog  that  was  risen,  pre- 
vented his  being  seen  or  heard.  However,  when  the 
Romans  saw  themselves  surrounded  on  all  sides, 
either  by  the  enemv  or  the  lake,  the  impossibility  of 
saving  their  lives  by  flight  roused  their  courage,  and 
both  parties  began  to  fight  with  astonishing  animosity. 
Their  furv  was  so  great,  that  not  a  soldier  in  either 
armv  perceived  an  earthquake  which  happened  in  that 
country,  and  buried  whole  cities  in  ruins.  In  this  con- 
fusion," Flaminius  being  slain  by  one  of  the  Insubrian 
Gauls,  the  Romans  began  to  give  ground,  and  at  last 
fairly  fled.  Great  numbers,  endeavouring  to  save 
themselves,  leaped  into  the  lake;  whilst  others, direct- 
ing their  course  towards  the  mountains,  fell  into  the 
enemy's  hands  whom  they  strove  to  avoid.  Six  thou- 
sand only  cut  their  way  through  the  conquerors,  and 
retreated  to  a  place  of  safety;  but  the  next  day  they 
were  taken  prisoners.  In  tfiis  battle  15,000  R'omans 
were  killed,  and  about  10,000  escaped  to  Rome  by  dif- 
ferent roads.  Hannibal  sent  back  the  Latins,  who 
were  the  allies  of  the  Romans,  into  their  own  country, 
without  demanding  the  least  ransom.  He  commanded 
search  to  be  made  for  the  body  of  Flaminius,  in  order 
to  give  it  burial,  but  it  could  not  be  found.  He  after- 
wards put  his  troops  into  quarters  of  refreshment,  and 
solemnized  the  funerals  of  thirty  of  his  chief  officers, 
who  were  killed  in  the  battle.  He  lost  in  all  but  1500 
men,  n.ost  of  whom  were  Gauls. 

Immediately  after,  Hannibal  despatched  a  courier  to 
Carthage,  who  the  news  of  his  good  success  hitherto 
in  Italy.  Thi«  caused  the  greatest  joy  for  the  present, 
gave  birth  to  the  most  promising  hopes  with  regard  to 
the  future,  and  revived  the  courage  of  all  the  citizens. 
They  now  prepared,  with  incredible  ardour,  to  send 
into  Italy  and  Spain  all  necessary  succours. 

Rome,  on  the  contrary,  was  filled  with  universal 
grief  and  alarm,  as  soon  as  the  praetor  had  pronounced 
from  the  rostra  the  following  words:  IVt  have  lost  a 
great  battle.  The  senate,  studious  of  nothing  but  the 
public  welfare,  thought  that  in  so  great  a  calamity 

•  fN'ow  cmlled  Lago  di  Perugia.] 


and  so  imminent  a  danger,  rt-c  mrse  must  br.  had  to 
extraordinary  remedies.  They  therefore  appointed 
Qumtus  Fabius  dictator,  a  person  as  conspicuous  for 
his  wisdom  as  hishirth.  It  was  the  custi  in  at  Rome, 
that  the  moment  a  dictator  was  nominated,  all  author- 
ity ceased,  that  ol  the  tribunes  of  the  people  excepted. 
M.  Minucius  was  appointed  the  general  of  horse.  \Ve 
are  now  in  the  second  year  of  the  war. 

Hannibal's  Conduct  with  respect  to  Falius. 

Hannibal,*  after  the  battle  of  Thrasvmenus,  nol 
thinking  it  yet  proper  to  march  directly  to  Rome,  con 
tented  himself,  in  the  mean  time,  with  laving  waste 
the  country.  He  crossed  Umbriaand  Ficenum;  and 
after  ten  days'  march,  arrived  in  the  territory  of 
Adria.3  He  got  a  very  considerable  booty  in  his  march. 
Out  of  his  implacable  enmity  to  the  Romans,  he  com- 
manded, that  all  who  were  able  to  bear  arms,  should 
be  put  to  the  sword;  and  meeting  no  obstacle  any 
where,  he  advanced  as  far  as  Apulia;  plundering  the 
countries  which  lay  in  his  way,  and  carrying  desola- 
tion wherever  he  came,  in  order  to  compel  the  nations 
to  disengage  themselves  from  their  alliance  with  the 
Romans;  and  to  show  all  Italy, that  Rome  itself,  now 
quite  dispirited,  yielded  him  the  victory: 

Fabius,  followed  by  Minucius  and  four  legions,  had 
inarched  from  Rome  in  quest  of  the  enemv,  but  with  a 
firm  resolution  not  to  let  him  take  the  least  advan- 
tage, nor  to  advance  one  step  till  he  had  first  n  .'on- 
noitred  even- place;  nor  hazard  a  battle  till  he  sh.-uld 
be  sure  of  success.  • 

As  xoon  as  both  armies  were  in  sight,  Hannibal,  to 
terrify  the  Roman  forces,  ottered  them  battle,  by  ad- 
vancing almost  to  the  verv  intrenchments  of  their 
camp.  But  finding  every  thing  quiet  there,  he  re- 
tired; blaming,  in  appearance,  the  cowardice  of  the 
enemy,  whom  he  upbraided  with  having  at  last  lost 
that  valour  so  natural  to  their  ancestors;  but  fretted 
inwardly,  to  find  he  had  to  do  with  a  general  of  so 
different  a  disposition  from  Sempronius  and  Flami- 
nius; and  that  the  Romans,  instructed  bv  their  defeat, 
had  at  last  made  choice  of  a  commander  capable  of 
opposing  Hanaibal. 

From  this  moment  he  perceived,  that  the  dictator 
would  not  be  formidable  to  him  by  the  boldness  of  his 
attacks,  but  by  the  prudence  and  regularity  of  his 
conduct,  which  might  perplex  and  embarrass  him 
very  much.  The  only  circumstance  he  now  wanted 
to  know,  was,  whether-'the  new  general  had  firmness 
enough  to  pursue  steadily  the  plan  he  seemed  to  hare 
laid  down.  He  endeavoured,  therefore,  to  shake  his 
resolution  by  the  different  movements  which  he  made, 
by  laying  waste  the  lands,  plundering  the  cities,  and 
burning  the  villages  and  towns.  He,  at  one  time, 
would  raise  his  camp  with  the  utmost  precipitation, 
and,  at  another,  stop  short  in  some  vallc/  out  of  the 
common  route,  to  try  whether  he  could  not  surprise 
him  in  the  plain.  However,  Fabius  still  kept  his 
troops  on  the  hills,  but  without  losing  sight  of  Han- 
nibal ;  never  approaching  near  enough  to  come  to  an 
engagement;  nor  yet  keeping  at  such  a  distance,  a* 
might  give  him  an  opportunity  of  escaping  him.  He 
never  suffered  his  soldiers  to  stir  out  of  the  camp, 
except  to  forage,  nor  ever  on  those  occasions  without 
a  numerous  convoy.  If  ever  he  engaged,  it  was  only 
in  slight  skirmishes,  and  so  very  cautiously,  that  his 
troops  had  always  the  advantage.  By  this  conduct 
he  revived,  by  insensible  degrees,  the  courage  of  th« 
soldiers,  which  the  loss  of  three  battles  had  entirely 
damped;  and  enabled  them  to  rely,  as  they  had  for- 
merly done,  on  their  valour  and  good  fortune. 

Hannibal,  having  got  an  immense  booty  in  Carri 
paiiia,  where  he  had  resided  a  considei~».ble  time,  left 
that  country,  in  order  that  he  might  n^t  consume  the 
provisions  he|had  laid  up,  ami  which  '  >.  reserved  for 
the  winter  season.  Besides, he  could  no  longercon- 
tinue  in  a  country  of  gardens  and  vi.ieyards,  whico 
were  more  agreeable  to  the  eye  than  useful  for  tlie 
subsistence  of  an  army;  a  country  where  he  would 
have  been  forced  to  take  up  his  winter  quarter! 


»  Polyb  I.  iii.  p.  2H9— 255.     Liv.  1   xxii.  n.  O—"Q. 

*  A  small  town,  which  gave  its  name  IP  ibe  Adriatic  *e*. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


107 


»«»ong  marshes,  rocks,  and  sands;  while  the  Ro- 
mans would  have  drawn  plentiful  supplies  from  Ca- 
pua, and  ihe  richest  parts  of  Italy.  He  therefore 
lesolved  to  settle  elsewhere. 

Fabius  naturally  supposed  that  Hannibal  would 
be  obliged  to  return  the  same  way  he  came,  and  that 
he  might  easily  anno)"  him  during  his  march.  HP 
began  by  throwing  a  considerable  body  of  troops  into 
Casilinum,  and  thereby  securing  that  small  town, 
•ituated  on  the  Vulturnus,  which  separated  the  terri- 
tories of  Falernum  from  those  of  Capua:  he  after- 
wards detached  4000  men  to  seize  the  only  pass 
through  which  Hannibal  could  come  out;  and"  then, 
according  to  his  usual  custom,  posted  himself  with 
the  remainder  of  the  army  on  the  hills  adjoining  to 
the  road. 

The  Carthaginians  arrive,  and  encamp  in  the  plain 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  And  now  the  crafty 
Carthaginian  falls  into  the  same  snare  he  had  laid 
for  Flaminius  at  the  defile  of  Thrasymenus;  and  it 
seemed  impossible  for  him  ever  to  extricate  himself 
out  of  this  difficulty,  there  being  but  one  outlet,  of 
which  the  Romans  were  possessed.  Fabius,  fancy- 
ing himself  sure  of  his  prey,  was  only  contriving  how 
to  seize  it.  He  flattered  himself,  and  not  without  the 
appearance  of  probability,  with  the  hopes  of  putting 
an  euJ  to  the  war  by  this  single  battle.  Neverthe- 
less, he  thought  tit  to  defer  the  attack  till  the  next  day. 

Hannibal  perceived  that  his  own  artifices  were  now 
employed  against  him.1  It  is  in  such  junctures  as 
these,  that  a  general  has  need  of  unusual  presence 
of  mind  and  fortitude,  to  view  danger  in  its  utmost 
extent,  without  being  dismayed;  and  to  find  out  sure 
and  instant  expedients  without  deliberating.  Imme- 
diately, the  Carthaginian  general  caused  2000  oxen 
to  be  got  together,  and  ordered  small  bundles  of 
vine-branches  to  be  tied  to  their  horns.  Towards 
the  dead  of  night,  having  commanded  the  branches 
to  be  set  on  fire,  he  caused  the  oxen  to  be  driven  with 
violence  to  the  top  of  the  hills  where  the  Romans 
were  encamped.  As  soon  as  these  creatures  felt  the 
flame,  the  pain  rendered  them  furious,  they  flew  up 
»nd  down  on  all  sides,  and  set  fire  to  the  shrubs  and 
bushes  they  met  in  their  way.  This  squadron,  of  a 
lew  kin  1,  was  sustained  by  a  good  number  of  light- 
armed  soldiers,  who  had  orders  to  seize  upon  the 
lumiiiit  of  the  mountain,  and  to  charge  the  enemy,  in 
lase  they  should  meet  them.  All  things  happened  as 
Hannibal  had  foreseen.  The  Romans  who  guarded 
the  defile,  seeing  the  fires  spread  over  the  hills  which 
were  above  them,  and  imagining  that  it  was  Hannibal 
making  his  escape  by  torch-light,  quit  their  post,  and 
•Tin  up  to  the  mountains  to  oppose  his  passage.  The 
main  bo  ly  of  the  army  not  knowing  what  to  think  of 
»11  this  tumult,  and  Fabius  himself  not  daring  to  stir. 
while  it  was  dark,  for  fear  of  a  surprise,  wait  for  the 
return  of  the  day.  Hannibal  seizrs  this  opportunity, 
marches  his  troops  and  the  spoils  through  the  defile, 
which  was  now  unguarded,  and  rescues  li'n  army  out 
of  a  snare  in  which,  had  Fabius  been  but  a  little  more 
rigorous,  it  woulJ  either  have  been  destroyed,  or  at 
least  very  much  weakened.  It  is  glorious  for  a  nsan 
to  turn  his  very  errors  to  his  advantage,  and  make 
them  subservient  to  his  reputation. 

The  Carthaginian  army  returned  to  Apulia,  still 
pursued  and  harassed  by  the  Romans.  The  dictator, 
being  obliged  to  take  a  journey  to  Rome  on  account 
of  some  rel:gious  ceremonies,  earnestly  entreated  his 
reiu-ral  of  horse,  before  his  departure,  not  to  figh'. 
during  his  absence.  However,  Minucius  did  not  re- 
pard  either  his  advice  or  his  entreaties  ;  but  the  very 
first  opportunity  he  had,  whilst  part  of  Hannibal's 
troops  were  foraginj,  he  charged  the  rest,  and  gained 
Home  advantage.  He  immediately  sent  advice  of  this 
to  Romp,  ai  if  he  had  obtained  a  considerable  victory. 
The  news  of  this,  with  what  had  just  before  happened 
at  the  passage  of  the  defile,  raised  complaints  and 
murmurs  against  the  slr>w  and  timorous  circumspec- 
tion of  Fahins.  In  a  word,  nntter?  were  carried  so 
fai,  that  the  Roman  people  gave  hi?  general  of  horse 
ftn  equal  authority  with  him  ;  a  thin°;  unheard  of  be- 


>  Nee  Annibalem  fefellit  tuis  «>  artibui  peti.     Lit. 


fore.  The  dictator  was  upon  the  road  when  he  re- 
•ceived  advice  of  this:  tor  he  had  left  Rome  in  ordei 
that  he  might  not  be  an  eye-witness  of  what  wai 
contriving  against  him.  His  constancy,  however 
was  not  shaken.  He  was  very  sensible,  that  though 
his  authority  in  the  command  was  divided,  yet  his 
skill  in  the  art  of  war  was  not  so.1  This  soon  be- 
came manifest. 

Minucius,  grown  arrogant  at  the  advantage  he  had 
gained  over  his  colleague,  proposed  that  each  should 
command  a  day  alternately,  or  even  a  longer  time. 
But  Fabius  rejected  this  proposal,  as  it  would  bare 
exposed  the  whole  army  to  danger  whilst  under  the 
command  of  Minucius.  He  therefore  chose  to  divide 
the  troops,  in  order  that  it  might  be  in  his  power  to  pre- 
serve, at  least,  that  part  which  should  fall  to  his  share. 

Hannibal,  fully  informed  of  all  that  passed  in  the 
Roman  camp,  was  overjoyed  to  hear  of  this  dissension 
between  the  two  commanders.  He  therefore  laid  a 
snare  for  the  rash  Minucius,  who  accordingly  plunged 
headlong  into  it  ;  and  engaged  the  enemy  on  an  emi- 
nence, in  which  an  ambuscade  was  concealed.  But 
his  troops  being  soon  put  into  disorder,  were  just  upon 
the  point  of  being  cut  to  pieces,  when  Fabius,  alarmed 
by  the  sudden  outcries  of  the  wounded,  called  aloud 
to  his  soldiers :  Let  us  hasten  to  the  assistance  ofJVinu- 
cius:  let  ns  fly  and  snatch  the  victory  from  the  enemy, 
and  extort  from  onrfclloir-citizens  a  confession  of  their 
fault.  This  succour  was  very  seasonable,  and  com- 
pelled Hannibal  to  sound  a  retreat.  The  latter,  as  he 
was  retiring.said,  That  the  clovd  which  had  been  long 
hovering'  on  the  summit  of  the  mountains,  had  at  last 
burst  icith  a  loud  crack, and  caused  amighty  storm.  So 
important  and  seasonable  a  service  done  by  the  dicta- 
tor, opened  the  eyes  of  Minucius.  He  accordingly 
acknowledged  his  error,  returned  immediately  to  his 
duty  and  obedience,  and  showed,  that  it  is  sometime* 
more  glorious  to  know  how  to  atone  for  a  fault,  than 
not  to  have  committed  it. 

The  Slate  of  Affairs  in  Spain. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  campaign,3  Cn.  Scipio 
having  suddenly  attacked  the  Carthaginian  fleet, 
(.ommanded  by  Hamilcar,  defeated  it,  and  took  twen- 
ty-five ships,  with  a  great  quantity  of  rich  spoils. 
This  victory  made  the  Romans  sensible,  that  they 
ought  to  be  particularly  attentive  to  the  affairs  of 
Spain,  because  Hannibal  could  draw  considerable 
supplies  both  of  men  and  money  from  that  country. 
Accordingly,  they  sent  a  fleet  thither,  the  command 
whereof  was  given  to  P.  Scipio,  who,  after  his  arrival 
in  Spain,  having  joined  his  brother,  did  the  common- 
wealth very  great  service.  Till  that  time  the  Romans 
had  never  ventured  beyond  the  Ebro.  They  had  been 
satisfied  with  having  gained  the  friendship  of  the 
nations  situated  between  that  river  and  Italy,  and 
confirming  it  by  alliances  :  but  under  Publins  they 
crossed  the  F.bro,  and  carried  their  arms  much  farther 
up  into  the  country. 

The  circumstance  which  contributed  most  to  pro- 
mot?  their  aflairs,  was  the  treachery  of  a  Spaniard  in 
Saguntum.  Hannibal  had  left  there  the  children  of 
the  most  distinguished  families  in  Spain,  whom  he 
had  taken  as  hostages.  Abelox,  for  so  this  Spaniard 
was  called,  persuaded  Bostar,  the  governor  of  the 
city,  to  send  back  these  young  men  into  their  country, 
in  order,  by  that  means,  to  attach  the  inhabitants 
more  firmly  to  the  Carthaginian  interest.  He  him- 
self was  charged  with  this  commission.  But  he  carri- 
ed them  to  the  Romans,  who  afterwards  delivered 
them  to  their  relations,  and,  by  so  acceptable  a  pre- 
sent, acquired  their  amity. 

The  Batllt  of  Canna. 
The  next    spring,*    C.    Terentius 
Varro  and  L.   £milnM  Paul  us  were        A.  M.  3789. 
chosen  consuls    at    Rome.      In  this      A.  Rom.  533. 
campaign,   which   was    the    third   of 
the  second  Punic  war,   the  Romans   did  what   had 


*  ?»!:«  fidenn  hnudqimqunm  cum  imperil  jur"  artem  n 
peranrii  spquaL-.m      Lir.  I.  xxii.  n.  2f>. 

»  Polvh.  I.  iii    p  V*:>— 250.     Liv.l.  xxii.  n.  IS-™. 
«  Polvb.  1.  iii.  o.  255—268.    Lir  1.  nil.  n.  W— 54. 


»08 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


never  been  practiced  before,  that  is,  they  composed 
the  armv  of  eight  legions,  each  consisting  of  5000 
men,  exclusive  of  the  allies.  For,  as  we  have  already 
observed,  the  Romans  never  raised  but  four  leg-ions, 
each  of  wnich  consisted  of  about  4000  foot,  and  300 
horse.1  They  never,  except  on  the  most  important 
occasions,  made  them  consist  of  5000  of  the  one,  and 
400  of  the  other.  As  for  the  troops  of  the  allies,  their 
infantry  was  equal  to  that  of  the  legions,  but  they  had 
three  times  as  many  horse.  Each  of  the  consuls  had 
commonly  half  the  troops  of  the  allies,  with  two  le- 
gion*, in  "order  for  them  to  act  separately;  and  it  was 
very  grldom  that  all  these  forces  were  used  at  the 
tame  time,  and  in  the  same  expedition.  Here  the 
Romans  had  not  only  four,  but  eight  legions,  so  im- 
portant did  the  affair  appear  to  them.  The  senate 
even  thought  fit,  that  the  two  consuls  of  the  foregoing 
year,  St-rvilius  and  Attilius,  should  serve  in  the  army 
as  proconsuls;  but  the  latter  could  not  go  into  the 
field,  by  reason  of  his  great  age. 

Varro,  at  his  setting;  out  from  Rome,  had  declared 
openlv,  that  he  would  fall  upon  the  enemy  the  very 
first  opportunity,  and  put  an  end  to  the  war;  adding, 
that  it  never  would  be  terminated  so  long  as  men 
such  as  Fabius  should  be  at  the  head  of  the  Roman 
armies.  An  advantage  which  he  gained  over  the 
Carthaginians,  of  whom  near  1700  were  killed,  greatly 
increased  his  boldness  and  arrogance.  As  for  Han- 
nibal, he  considered  this  loss  as  a  real  advantage; 
being  persuaded  that  it  would  serve  as  a  bait  to  the 
consul's  rashness,  and  prompt  him  on  to  a  battle, 
which  he  wanted  extremely.  It  was  afterwards 
known,  that  Hannibal  was  reduced  to  such  a  scarcity 
of  provisions,  that  he  could  not  possibly  have  subsist- 
ed ten  days  longer.  The  Spaniards  were  alreadr 
meditating  to  leave  him.  So  that  there  would  have 
been  an  end  of  Hannibal  and  his  army,  if  his  good 
fortune  had  not  thrown  a  Varro  in  hi?  way. 

Both  armies,  having  often  removed  from  place  to 
place,  came  in  sight  of  each  other  nearCanna?,  a  little 
town  in  Apulia,2  situated  on  the  river  Aufidus.  As 
Hannibal  was  encamped  in  a  level  open  country,  and 
his  cavalry  much  superior  to  that  of  the  Romans, 
JEmilius  did  not  think  proper  to  engage  in  such  a 
place.  He  wished  to  draw  the  enemy  into  a  spot, 
where  the  infantry  might  have  the  greatest  share  in 
the  action.  But  his  colleague,  who  was  inexperienced, 
was  of  a  contrary  opinion.  Such  is  the  inconveniency 
of  a  divided  command:  jealousy,  a  disparity  of  tem- 
pers, or  a  diversity  of  views,  seldom  failing  to  create 
a  dissension  between  the  two  generals. 

The  troops  on  each  side  were,  for  some  time,  con- 
tented with  slight  skirmishes.  But  at  last,  one  day, 
v><en  Varro  had  the  command  (for  the  two  consuls 
toot.  :t  by  turns)  preparations  were  made  on  both 
•idea  ID.  "battle.  .Smilius  had  not  been  consulted; 
vet,  though  '"fc  extremely  disapproved  the  conduct  of 
his  colleague,  a.  't  was  not  in  his  power  to  prevent  it, 
fie  seconded  him  „.  the  utmost. 

Hannibal,  suter  ha,  .r>a:  made  his  soldiers  observe, 
that  being  su|jerior  in«'av«'n-,  they  could  not  possibly 
hav«  jiitrhed  U|MHI  a  bettei  ;->ot  for  fighting,  had  it 
heen  left  to  their  choice  Rtttift,  then  (says  he), 
thanks  n>  Hit  gmisfor  having  brifim  •<•  the  enemy  hith- 
•r.  that  ynu  may  triumph  over  thtin  in/?  thank  me 
il.in.Ftir  harm/?  reduced  tht  Romans  U  'ht  necessity 
tff.o-nttng  in  an  engagement.  After  th"-  greatsiic- 
-rixirf  nrlnries.  it  not  the.  r?mrmt'*n*  ce  of  your 
Oir"  -fhnnf  sufficient  to  inspire  v™'  "~tth  coiirasre? 
By  tt\(  rr>r>nrr  lia'.tles.  von  nrr  hernni'-  nnstfrs  of  the 
Of:  en  roim'rii.  hut  thin  irill  put  v>'(  ">  '  ossfssion  of  all 
the  cities,  ami  tprfsumf  'o  »ii/  it  if  all  the  riches 
mnd  poirer  rf  th*  Romans  It  IT  ,ot  icords  that  ire 
iron/,  lint  action.  I  trust  »n  ih»  gods,  that  you  mill 
soon  see  my  promises  verified 

The  two  armies  were  very  unequal  in  numbers. — 
That  of  the  Romans,  including  the  allies,  amounted 


i  Polvhiu*  supposes  only  200  horse  in  each  loginn:  but 
J.  I.  ip«piB  thinks  that  this  is  a  mistake  either  of  the  author  or 
trun«rrit>er. 

»  i  riic  ruinn  of  thi«  citv  fire  still  to  be  seen  in  the  territo- 
ry of  Bari,  formerly  Apulia  Peucetia.] 


to  80,000  fojt,  and  a  little  above  6000  horse:  and 
that  of  the  Carthaginians  consisted  but  of  40,000  foot, 
all  well  disciplined,  and  of  10,000  horse.  jF.inilius 
commanded  the  right  wing;  of  the  Romans,  Varro  the 
left,  and  Servilius,  one  of  the  consuls  of  the  lastyear 
was  posted  in  the  centre.  Hannibal,  who  had  the  art 
of  turning  every  incident  to  advantage,  had  posted 
himself,  so  as  that  the  wind  Vulturous*  which  rises 
at  certain  stated  times,  should  blow  directly  in  the 
faces  of  the  Romans  during  the  fight, and  cover  them 
with  dust;  then  keeping  the  river  Aufidus  on  his  left, 
and  posting  his  cavalry  in  the  wing?,  he  formed  his 
main  body  of  the  Spanish  and  Gaulish  infantry; 
which  he  posted  in  the  centre,  with  half  the  African 
heavy-armed  foot  on  the  right,  and  half  on  the  left, 
on  the  same  line  with  the  cavalry.  His  army  being 
thus  drawn  up,  he  put  himself  "at  the  head' of  the 
Spanish  and  Gaulish  infantry;  and  having  drawn 
them  out  of  the  line, advanced  :o  givebattle, rounding 
his  front  as  he  drew  nearer  the  enemy;  and  extend- 
ing his  flanks  in  the  shape  of  a  half-moon,  in  order 
that  he  might  leave  no  interval  between  his  main  body 
and  the  rest  of  the  line,  which  consisted  of  the  heavy- 
armed  infantry,  who  had  not  moved  from  their  posts. 

The  fight  soon  began,  and  the  Roman  legions  that 
were  in  the  wings, seeing  their  centre  waini'y  attack- 
ed, advanced  to  chargethe  enemy  in  flank.  Hannibal's 
main  bcdy ,  after  a  brave  resistance,  finding  th<  nist  Ives 
furiously  attacked  on  all  sicie?,  gavt  way,  being  over- 
powered b\  numbers;  and  retired  through  the  inter- 
val they  had  left  in  the  centre  of  the  line.  The  Ro- 
mans having  pursued  them  thither  with  eager  confu- 
sion, the  two  wings  of  the  African  infantry,  which 
were  fresh,  well  armed,  and  in  good  order,  whee  led 
about  on  a  sudden  towards  that  void  space  in  which 
the  Romans,  who  were  already  fatigued,  had  thrown 
themselves  in  disorder;  and  attacked  them  vigorously 
on  both  sides,  without  allowing  them  time  to  recover 
themselves,  or  leaving  them  ground  to  draw  up.  In 
the  mean  time,  the  two  wings  of  the  cavalry,  having 
defeated  those  of  the  Romans,  which  were  much  in- 
feiiorto  them;  and  having  left  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
broken  and  scattered  squadrons,  only  ss  many  forces 
as  were  necessary  to  keep  them  from  rallying,  advanc 
ed  and  charged  the  rear  of  the  Roman  infantry,  which, 
being  surrounded  at  once  on  every  side,  by  the  ene- 
my's horse  and  foot,  was  all  cut  to  piece?,  after  having 
fought  with  unparalleled  bravery,  .Smiliu?,  being 
covered  with  the  wounds  he  had  received  in  the  fight, 
was  afterwards  killed  by  a  body  of  the  enemy  to  whom 
he  was  not  known:  and  with  nim  two  quaestors:  one- 
and-twenty  military  tribunes:  ivany  who  had  been 
either  consuls  or  praetors;  Servilius,  one  of  the  last 
year's  consuls:  Minucius,  the  late  general  of  horse 
to  Fabius;  and  fourscore  senators.  Above  70,000 
men  fell  in  this  battle:*  and  the  Carthaginian?,  so 
great  wa?  their  fury.*  did  not  give  over  the  slaughter, 
till  Hannibal  in  the  very  heat  of  it,  called  cut  to  them 
several  time?,  Stcv,  soldiers,  spare  the  vanquished.  Ten 
thousand  men,  who  had  been  Uft  to  guard  the  camp, 
surrendered  themselves  prisoners  of  war  after  the  bat- 
tle. Vsrro',  the  consul,  retired  to  Venusia,  with  only 
seventy  horse;  and  about  4000  men  escaped  into  the 
neighbouring  cities.  Thus  Hannibal  remained  mas- 
ter of  the  field,  he  being  chiefly  indebted  for  this,  ar 
well  as  for  his  former  victories,  to  the  superiority  of 
his  cavalry  over  that  of  the  Romans.  He  lost  4001 
GnuU,  1500  Spaniards  and  Africans, .and  200  horse. 

Maharbal.  one  of  the  Carthaginian  Generals,  ad- 
vised Hannibal  to  march  without  loss  of  time  directly 


*  [Tliis  wind  answers  (o  the  modern  Sirocco,  or  hot  wind, 
which  blow*  from  the  quarter  of  Africa  for  many  day* 
together.  When  this  happens,  the  atmosphere  is  heated 
to  an  extreme  degree,  so  as  to  he  almost  intolerable.  A 
Trnmontana,  or  cold  north-east  wiiid  from  the  ApiienineN, 
frequently  succeed*  the  Vultunm*  or  Pirrcco,  which  prtxlv* 
ccs  a  great  mortality  amongst  the  native?.] 

«  J.ivy  lessens  verv  much  the  number  of  the  slain,  mak- 
in£  them  amount  hut  to  about  43,000.  But  Polybius  ought 
rather  to  he  believed. 

»  Duo  mnjctmi  exercitus  rjrsi  ad  hostium  satictatera, 
donee  Annibal  diccret  militi  ruo:  Parce  ferro.  Flor. 
LLe.il 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


10'J 


to  Rome,  promising  him,  that  within  five  days  they 
ihoulci  sup  in  the  Capitol.  Hannibal  answering,  that 
it  was  a  matter  which  required  mature  deliberation: 
J  3te,  replies  Maharbal,  that  the  gods  have  not  endowed 
the  same  man  with  all  talents.  You,  Hannibal,  know 
how  to  conquer,  but  not  to  make  the  best  use  of  a  vic- 
tory.1 

It  is  pretended  that  this  delay  saved  Rome  and  the 
empire.  Mauv  authors,  and  among  the  rest,  Livy, 
charged  Hannibal,  on  this  occasion, as  being  guilty  of 
a  capital  errcr.  But  others  more  reserved,  are  not  for 
condemning,  H  !thout  evident  proofs,  so  renowned  a 
general,  who  in  the  rest  of  his  conduct  was  never 
wanting,  either  in  prudence  to  make  choice  of  the  best 
expedients,  or  in  readiness  to  put  his  designs  in  exe- 
cution. They,  besides,  are  inclined  to  judge  favoura- 
My  of  him,  from  the  authority,  oral  least  the  silence, 
of  Polvbius,  who,  speaking  of  the  memorable  conse- 
juences  of  this  celebrated  battle,  says,  that  the  Car- 
thaginians were  firmly  persuaded,  that  they  should 
themselves  of  Rome  at  the  first  assault;  but 
then  he  does  not  mention  how  this  could  possibly  have 
been  effected, as  that  city  was  very  populous,  warlike, 
strongly  fortified,  and  defended  with  a  garrison  of  two 
legions;  nor  does  he  any  where  give  the  least  hint 
that  such  a  project  was  feasible,  or  that  Hannibal  did 
wronaj  in  not  attempting  to  put  it  in  execution. 

And,  indeed,  if  we  examine  matters  more  narrowly, 
ire  shall  find,  that  according  to  the  common  maxims 
of  war  it  could  not  be  undertaken.  It  is  certain,  that 
Hannibal's  whole  infantry  before  the  battle,  amounted 
hut  to  40,000  men,  and  as  6000  of  these  had  been 
slain  in  the  action,  mid,  doubtless,  many  more  wound- 
ed and  disabled, there  could  remain  but  six  or  seven- 
and-twenty-thousand  foot  fit  for  service:  now  this 
number  was  not  sufficient  to  invest  so  large  a  city  as 
Rome,  which  had  a  river  running  through  it;  nor  to 
attack  it  in  form,  because  they  had  neither  engines, 
ammunition,  nor  any  other  things  necessary  for  carry- 
ing on  a  siege.  For  want  of  these,2  Hannibal,  even 
after  his  victory  at  Thrasymenus,  miscarried  in  his 
attempt  upon  Spoletum;  and  soon  after  the  battle  of 
Cann  »>,  was  forced  to  raise  the  siege  of  a  little  city,8  of 
no  note,  and  of  no  great  strength.  It  cannot  be  denied, 
that  had  he  miscarried  on  the  present  occasion,  nothing 
less  could  have  been  expected  but  that  he  must  have 
been  irrecoverably  lost.  However,  to  fonn  a  just  judg- 
ment of  this  matter,  a  man  ought  to  be  a  soldier,  and 
a  soldier,  perhaps,  of  those  times.  This  is  an  old  dis- 
pute on  which  none  but  those  who  are  perfectly  well 
skilled  in  the  art  of  war  should  pretend  to  give  their 
opinion. 

Soon  after  the  battle  of  Cannae,*  Hannibal  had 
despatched  his  brother  Mago  to  Carthage,  with  the 
news  of  his  victory,  and  at  the  same  time  to  demand 
tnccours.  in  order  that  he  might  be  enabled  to  put  an 
end  to  the  war. 

Mago,  on  his  arrival,  made,  in  full  senate,  a  lofty 
rpeech,  in  which  he  extolled  his  brother's  exploits, 
and  displayed  the  grea.t  advantages  he  had  gained  over 
the  Romans.  And  to  give  a  more  lively  idea  of  the 
greatness  of  the  victory,  by  speaking  in  some  measure 
to  the  eve,  he  poured  out  in  the  middle  of  the  senate 
a  bushel3  of  goLl  rings  which  had  been  taken  from 
the  finsrors  of  such  of  the  Roman  nobility  as  had  fallen 
in  thi-  battle  of  Cannne.  He  concluded  with  demand- 
inii-ni'n.i-y,  provisions, and  fresh  troops.  All  thespec- 
tn.t  ire  were  struck  with  an  extraordinary  joy  ;  upon 
which  Imilco.a  great  stickler  for  Hannibal, "fancying 
be  now  hail  a  fair  opportunity  to  insult  Hannoi  the 
chief  of  the  contrary  faction,  asked  him,  whether  they 
were  still  dissatisfied  with  the  war  they  were  carrying 
on  arainst  the  Romans,  and  was  for  h'aving  Hannibal 
d<  livereu  up  to  them  ?  Hanno,  without  discovering 
. | 

>  Turn    Maharbal :  Nnn   omnia   nimirum  eiilem  Dii   de    \ 
«Vro.  Vini-ere   wis.  Annibul.  riclorift  utl  nescin.     Liv.  xxii. 
0.51.  *  Liv.  I.  xxii.  n.  9.     Ibid.  I.  xjtiii.  n.  18. 

>  rntilinum.  *  Liv.  I.  xxtii.  n.  11—14 

•  Pliny.  I.  x\x.  iii.  c.  1,  nay*  that  there  were  three  hush- 
el*  *ent  to  Cartha»e.  Livy  observes,  that  gome  author* 
make  tlu-m  amount  to  three  bunhfls  nml  a  half;  but  he 
think*  it  mi«t  probable,  that  there  was  but  one,  I.  xxxiii.  n. 
14  Fiona,  \.  ii  c.  16  make*  it  two  bushel*. 


the  least  emotion,  replied  that  he  was  still  of  the  same 
mind,  and  that  the  victories  of  which  thev  so  much 
boasted  ^supposing  them  real,)  could  not  give  him 
joy,  but  only  in  proportion  as  they  should  be  made 
subservient  to  an  advantageous  peace;  he  then  under- 
took to  prove,  that  the  mighty  exploits,  on  whicli  they 
insisted  so  much,  were  wholly  chimerical  and  imagi- 
nary. 1  have  cut  to  pieces,  says  he,  (continuing  Ma- 
go's  speech)  the  Romanannies: sendmesome  trunks — 
What  more  could  you  ask  had  you  be  en  conquered  'f — 7 
have  twice  seized  upon  tl:  e  enemy's  vamp^full  (no  doubt) 
of  provisions  of  every  kind. — .S't/<d '  me  provisions  and 
money. —  Could  you  have  talked  otherwise,  had  you  lost 
your  camp  ?  He  thenasked  Mago,  whether  aiu  of  (he 
Latin  nations  had  come  over  to  Hannibal,  and  whtther 
the  Romans  had  made  him  any  proposals  of  peace  ? 
To  this  Mago  answering  in  the  negative  :  /  tl.en  per- 
ceive, replied  Hanno,  that  we  are  no  further  advajiced 
than  when  Hannibal  first  landed  in  Italy.  The  infer- 
ence he  drew  from  hence  was,  that  neithermen  nor  mo- 
ney ought  to  be  sent.  But  Hannibal's  faction  prevailing 
at  that  time,  no  regard  was  paid  to  Hanno 's  remon- 
strances, which  were  considered  merely  as  the  effect 
of  prejudice  and  jealousy  ;  and,  accordingly,  order* 
were  given  for  levying,  without  delay,  the  supplies  of 
men  and  money  which  Hannibal  required.  IViago  set 
out  immediately  for  Spain  to  raise  24,000  foot  and 
4000  horse  in  that  country  ;  but  these  levies  were  af- 
terwards stopped,  and  sent  to  another  quarter  ;  *o 
eager  was  the  contrary  faction  to  oppose  the  dtsigni 
of  a  general  whom  they  utterly  abhorred.  While,  in 
Rome,  a  consul,6  who  had  fled,  was  thanked  because 
he  had  not  despaired  of  the  commonwealth  ;  at  Car- 
thage, people  were  almost  angry  with  Hannibal  for 
being  victorious.  But  Hanno  could  never  forgive  him 
the  advantages  he  had  gained  in  this  war,  because  he 
had  undertaken  it  in  opposition  to  his  counst  1.  Thus, 
being  more  jealous  for  the  honour  of  his  own  opinions 
than  for  the  good  of  his  country,  and  a  greater  enemy 
to  the  Carthaginian  general  than  to  the  Romans,  he 
did  all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  prevent  future  success, 
and  to  render  of  no  avail  that  which  had  been  already 
gained. 

Hannibal  takes  vp  his  Winter-quarters  in  Capua. 

The  battle  of  Cannae  subjected  the  most  powerful 
nations  of  Italy  to  Hannibal,''  drew  over  to  his  interest 
Graecia  Magna,8  with  the  city  of  Tarentum  ;  and 
thus  wrested  from  the  Romans'their  most  anci<-nt  al- 
lies, among  whom  the  Capuans  held  the  first  rank. 
This  city,  by  the  fertility  of  its  soil,  its  advantageous 
situation,  and  the  blessings  of  a  long  peace,  had  risen 
to  great  wealth  and  power.  Luxury,  and  a  fondness 
for  pleasure  (the  usual  attendants  "on  wealth,)  had 
corrupted  the  minds  of  all  its  citizens,  who,  from  their 
natural  inclination,  were  but  too  much  inclined  to  vo 
luptuousness  and  excess. 

Hannibal  made  choice  of  this  city  for  his  winter- 
qu^irters.9  Here  it  was  that  those  soldiers,  who  had 
sustained  the  most  grievous  toils,  and  braved  the  most 
formidable  dangers,  were  overthrown  by  abundance 
and  a  profusion  of  luxuries,  into  which  they  plunged 
with  the  greater  eagerness,  as  they,  till  then",  had  been 
strangers  to  them.  Their  courage  was  so  greatly  en- 
ervated in  this  bewitching  retirement,  that  all  thtir 
after  efforts  were  owing  rather  to  the  fame  and  splen- 
dour of  their  former  victories  than  to  their  present 
strength.  When  Hannibal  marched  his  forces  out  of 
the  city,  one  would  have  taken  them  for  other  men, 
knd  the  reverse  of  those  who  had  so  lately  marched 
into  it.  Accustomed,  during  the  winter-season,  to 


•  Terentius  Varro.  i  Liv   1   xxiii.  n.  4.  18. 

•  Caterum  qnum  Grirct  omnemferc  oram  maritimam  €»• 
lonii.i  suis,  e  Orirciu  deductii,   obsiJtrcnt,  kr.     Hut   after 
the  Greek*   bail,  by  their  colonies,  possessed  ihem.-'plves  of 
almost  all   the   maritime  const,  ibis  very  country  itofvlhet 
with  Sicily)  was  called  Gratia  Magna,  fcc.      Clarer.  Ge» 
graph.  I.  iii.  c.  30. 

•  Ibi  partem  majorem  liiemis  exorcitum  in  tei-tis  habuit; 
advemuj  omnia   hunmna   mala  g*pe  ae  iliu  rluraium.  bomi 
inexperlum  atque  insuetum.      Iia<]ue  quo*   nulla   muli  vj. 
cerat  vis,  pcrdidere   nitnia  bona    ar  voluptaies   immodice; 
et  eu  iuMHtM,  quo  avidiu*  ex   insolorlia  in  ea»  se  ineijo- 
rant.     Ln.  I  xxiii.  n.  18. 

K 


110 


HISTORY  OF   THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


commodious  lodgings  tc  ease  and  plenty,  they  were 
DO  longer  able  to  btar  hunger,  thirst,  long  marches, 
wstch.nsfs,  and  the  other  toils  of  war  ;  not  to  mention 
that  all  "obedience,  all  discipline,  were  entirely  laid 
asine. 

1  onlv  transcribe  on  this  occasion  from  Livy.  If 
we  are  to  adopt  his  opinion  on  this  subject,  Hannibal's 
stay  at  Capua  was  a  capital  blemish  in  his  conduct; 
and  he  pretends,  that  this  general  was  guilty  of  an 
infinite  I v  greater  error,  than  when  he  neglected  to 
march  directly  to  Rome  after  the  battle  of  Cannae. 
For  this  delay,1  says  Livy,  might  seem  only  to  have 
retarded  his  victory;  whereas  this  last  misconduct 
rendered  him  absolutely  incapable  of  ever  defeating 
the  enemy.  In  a  word,  as  Marcellus  observed  judi- 
iously  afterwards,  Capua  was  to  the  Carthaginians 
od  their  general,  what  Cannae  had  been  to  the  Ro- 
mans.2 There  their  martial  genius,  their  love  of  dis- 
cipline, were  lost;  there  their  former  fame,  and  their 
almost  certain  hopes  of  future  glory,  vanished  at  once. 
And  indeed,  from  thenceforth  the  affair*  of  Hannibal 
advanced  to  their  decline  by  swift  steps;  fortune  de- 
clared in  favour  of  prudence,  and  victory  seemed  now 
reconciled  to  the  Romans. 

1  know  not  whether  Livy  has  just  ground  to  im- 
pute all  these  fatal  consequences  to  the  delicious  abode 
of  Capua.  If  we  examine  carefully  all  the  circum- 
stances of  this  history,  we  shall  scarce  be  able  to 
persuade  ourselves,  that  the  little  progress  which  «vas 
afterwards  made  by  the  arms  of  Hannibal,  ouj.ht  to 
be  ascribed  to  his  wintering  at  Capua.  It  might,  in- 
deed, have  been  one  cause,  but  a  very  inconsiderable 
one;  and  the  bravery  with  which  the  forces  of  Han- 
nibal afterwards  defeated  the  armies  of  consuls  and 
praetors;  the  towns  they  took  even  in  sight  of  the 
Romans;  their  maintaining  their  conquests  so  vigor- 
ously, and  staying  fourteen  years  after  this  in  Italy, 
in  spite  of  the  Romans;  a  •  these  circumstances  may 
induce  us  to  believe,  that  Livy  lays  too  great  a  stress 
on  the  delights  of  Capua. 

The  real  cause  of  the  decline  of  Hannibal's  affairs, 
was  owing  to  his  want  of  necessary  recruits  and  suc- 
cours from  Carthage.  After  Mago's  speech,3  the 
Carthaginian  senate  nad  judged  it  necessary,  in  order 
for  the  carrying  on  the  conquests  in  Italy,  to  send 
thither  a  considerable  reinforcement  01  Numidian 
horse,  forty  elephants,  and  1000  talents;  and  to  hire, 
in  Spain,  20,000  foot,  ana  4000  horse,  to  reinforce 
'.heir  armies  in  Spain  and  Italy.  Nevertheless,4  Ma- 
go  could  obtain  an  order  but  for  12,000  foot  and 
2500  horse;  and  even  when  he  was  just  going  to  march 
to  Italy  with  this  reinforcement,  so  much  inferior  to 
t*«at  which  had  been  promised  him,  he  was  counter- 
manded, and  sent  to  Spain.  So  that  Hannibal,  after 
these  mighty  promises,  had  neither  infantry,  cavalry, 
elephants,  nor  money,  sent  him;  but  was  left  to  de- 
pend upon  his  own  personal  resources.  His  army 
was  now  reduced  to  26,<X)0  foot,  and  9000  horse. 
How  could  it  be  possible  for  him,  with  so  inconsider- 
able an  army,  to  seize,  in  an  enemy's  country,  on  all 
the  advantageous  posts:  to  awe  his  new  allies;  to 
preserve  his  old  congests,  and  form  new  ones;  and 
to  keep  the  field,  with  advantage,  against  two  armies 
of  the  Romans  which  were  recruited  every  year. 
This  was  the  true  reuse  of  the  declension  of  Hanni- 
bal's affairs,  and  of  the  ruin  of  those  of  Carthage. 
Were  the.  part  wliere  Polybius  treated  the  subject  ex- 
tant, we  doubtless  should  find,  that  he  lays  a  greater 
stress  on  this  cause,  than  on  the  luxurious' delights  of 
Capua. 

Transactions  relating  to  Spain  and  Sardinia. 
A.  M.  3790.         The  two   Scipios  still  continued  in 
A.  Rom.  534.     the  command    of    Spain,5  and    their 
arms   were    making   a    considerable 


'  Tlla  enim  cunctatio  diatulisse  modo  victoriam  videri 
Dotuit.  hie  error  vires  ademiase  ad  vincendum.  Liv.  I.  xxiii 
n.  18. 

»  Capuam  Annibali  Cannan  fuisse  ;  ihi  virtutem  bellicam, 
ibi  militarpm  disciplinam,  ihi  pra-leriti  temporig  faniam,  ihi 
ipem  fnturi  extinctnm.  Liv.  1.  ixiii.  n.  45. 

•  Liv.  I.  xxiii.  n.  13.  «  Ibid.  n.  32. 

•  Ibid,  n  26—  30  and  n.  32.  40.  41. 


progress  there,  when  Asdrubal,  who  alone  seem*»d 
able  to  cope  with  them.received  orders  from  Carthage, 
to  march  into  Italy  to  the  relief  of  his  brother,  be- 
fore he  left  Spain,  he  wrote  to  the  senate,  to  convince 
them  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  their  sending  a  gen- 
eral in  his  stead,  who  was  capable  of  making  head 
against  the  Romans.  Imilcowas  therefore  suit  thither 
\\ith  an  army;  and  Asdrubal  set  out  upon  his  march 
with  his,  in  order  to  go  and  join  his  brother.  The 
news  of  his  departure  was  no  sooner  known,  than  the 
greatest  part  of  Spain  was  subjected  by  the  Scipios. 
These  two  generals,  animated  by  such  signal  success, 
resolved  to  prevent  him,  if  possible,  from  leaving 
Spain.  Thev  considered  the  danger  to  which  the  Ro- 
mans would  be  exposed,  if,  being  scarce  able  to  resist 
Hannibal  alone,  they  should  be  attacked  by  the  two 
brothers,  at  the  head  of  two  powerful  armies.  They 
therefore  pursued  Asdrubal,  and,  coming  up  with  that 
general,  forced  him  to  fight  against  his  inclination. 
Asdrubal  was  overcome;  and  so  far  from  being  able 
to  continue  his  march  for  Italy,  he  found  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  continue  with  any  safety  in 
Spain. 

The  Carthaginians  had  no  better  success  in  Sardi- 
nia. Designing  to  take  advantage  of  some  rebellions 
which  they  had  fomented  in  that  country,  they  lost 
12,000  men  in  a  battle  fought  against  the  Romans, 
who  took  a  still  greater  number  of  prisoners,  among 
whom  were  Asdrubal,  surnan;ed  Calvus  Hanno,  ana 
Mago,6  who  were  distinguished  by  their  birth  as  well 
as  military  exploits. 

The  ill  success  of  Hannibal.     Tlie  Sitges  of  Capua 
and  Rome. 

From  the  time  of  Hannibal's  a-  A.  M.  3791. 
bode  in  Capua,7  the  Carthaginian  A.  Rom.  535. 
affairs  in  Italy  no  longer  supported 
their  former  reputation.  M.  Marcellus,  first  as  pnetor, 
and  afterwards  as  consul,  had  contributed  very  much 
to  this  revolution.  He  harassed  Hannibal's  army  on 
every  occasion,  seized  upon  his  quarters,  forced  him  to 
raise  sieges,  and  even  defeated  him  in  several  engage 
ments;  so  that  he  was  called  the  Sword  of  Rome,  at 
Fabius  had  before  been  named  its  Buckler 

But  what  most  affected  the  Car- 
thaginian general,  was  to  see  Capua  A.  M.  3793 
besieged  by  the  Romans.  In  order,  A.  Rom.  537. 
therefore,  to  preserve  his  reputation 
among  his  allies,  by  a  vigorous  support  of  those  wb» 
held  the  chief  rank  as  such,  he  flew  to  the  relief  of 
that  city,  brought  forward  his  forces,  attacked  the  Ro 
mans,  and  fought  several  battles  to  oblige  them  to  raise 
the  siege.  At  last  seeing  all  his  meas- 
ures defeated,  he  marched  hastily  to-  A.  M.  3794. 
wards  Rome,  in  order  to  make  a  pow-  A.  Rom.  538. 
erful  diversion.  He  was  not  without 
hope  of  being  able,  in  case  he  could  have  an  oppor- 
tunity, in  the  first  consternation,  to  storm  some  part 
of  the  city,  of  drawing  the  Roman  generals  with  all 
their  forces  from  the  siege  of  Capua,  to  the  relief  of 
their  capital;  at  least  he  flattered  himself,  that  if,  for 
the  sake  of  continuing  the  siege,  they  should  divide 
their  forces,  their  weakness  might  then  offer  an  occa- 
sion, either  to  the  Capuans  or  himstlf,  of  engaging 
and  defeating  them.  Rome  was  surprised,  but  not 
confounded.  A  proposal  being  made  by  one  of  the 
senators  to  recall  all  the  armies  to  succour  Rome; 
Fabius  declared,8  that  it  would  be  shameful  in  ihem 
to  be  terrified,  and  forced  to  change  their  measure* 
upon  every  motion  of  Hannibal.  They  therefore  con- 
tented themselves  with  onlv  recalling  part  of  the  ar- 
my, and  one  of  the  generals,  Q.  Fulvius  the  procon- 
sul, from  the  siege.  Hannibal,  after  making  some 
devastations,  drew  up  his  army  in  order  of  battle  be 
fore  the  city,  and  the  consul  did  the  same.  Both  sidct 
were  preparing  to  signalize  themselves  in  a  battle,  of 
which  Rome  was  to  be  the  recompense,  when  a  vio 
lent  storm  obliged  them  to  separate.  They  were  no 


«  Not  Hannibal's  brother. 

'   Liv.  1.  xxiii.  n.  41—46.  1.  xxv.  n.  22.  1.  xxvi.  n.  5—16 
•  Flasitiosum  csse  terreri  ac  cirrumagi  ad  omncs  Ann! 
balls  comminationes.     Liv.  xxvi.  n.  8. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


Ill 


sooner  returned  to  their  respective  camps  than  the 
(ace  of  the  heavens  grew  calm  and  serene.  The  same 
incident  happened  frequently  afterwards;  insomuch 
that  Hannibal,  believing  th^t  there  was  something  su- 
pernatural in  the  event,  said,  according  to  Livv,  that 
sometime*  his  own  will,1  and  sometimes  fortune,  would 
not  suffer  him  to  take  Rome. 

But  the  circumstances  which  most  surprised  and 
intimidated  him,  was  the  news,  that  whilst  he  lay  en- 
camped at  one  of  the  gates  of  Rome,  the  Romans  had 
•ent  out  recruits  for  the  army  in  Spain  at  another 
gate;  and  that  the  ground  whereon  his  camp  was 
pitched,  had  been  sold,  notwithstanding  that  circum- 
ftance  for  its  full  value.  So  barefaced  a  contempt 
•tung  Hannibal  to  the  quick;  he,  therefore,  on  the 
other  side,  put  up  to  auction  the  shops  of  the  gold- 
smiths round  the  Forpm.  After  this  bravado,  he  re- 
tired, and  in  his  march,  plundeted  the  rich  temple 
of  the  goddess  Feronia.8 

Capua,  thus  left  to  itself,  held  out  but  very  little 
longer.     After  that  such  of  its  senators  as  had  the 
chief  hand  in  the  revolt,  and  consequently  could  not 
expect  any  quarter  from  the  Romans,  had  put  them- 
selves to  a  truly  tragical  death,3  the  city  surrendered 
at  discretion.     The  success  of  this  siege,  which,  by  I 
the   happy  consequences  wherewith  it  was  attended,  I 
proved  decisive,  and  fully  restored  to  the  Romans  their  | 
superiority  over  the  Carthaginians;  displayed,  at  the 
same  time,  how  formidable  the  power  of  the  Romans 
was,4  when  they  undertook  to  punish  their  perfidious 
•Hies;  and  thefeeble  protection  which  Hannibal  could 
BiTord  his  friends  at  a  time  when  they  most  wanted  it. 
The  Defeat  and  Death  of  the  two  Scipios  in  Spain. 

The  face  of  affairs  was  very  much 
A.  M.  3793.  changed  in  Spain.5  The  Carthagin- 
A.  Rom.  537.  ians  had  three  armies  in  that  country  ; 
one  commanded  by  Asdrubal,  the  son 
of  Gisgo;  the  second  by  Asilrubal,  son  of  Hamil- 
car;  and  a  third  under  Mago,  who  had  joined  the  first 
Asdrubal.  The  two  Scipios.  Cneus  ana  Publius,  were 
for  dividing  their  forces,  and  attacking  the  enemy  se- 
parately, which  was  the  cause  of  their  ruin.  They 
agreed  that  Cneu«,  with  a  small  number  of  Romans, 
and  30.000  Celtiberians.  should  march  against  Asdru- 
bal the  son  of  Hamilcar;  whilst  Publius,  with  the  re- 
mainder of  the  forces,  composed  of  Romans  and  the 
Italian  allies,  should  advance  against  tne  other  two 
generals. 

Publius  was  vanquished  first.  To  the.  two  leaders 
whom  he  had  to  oppose,  Masinissa,  elate  with  the 
victory  he  had  lately  gained  over  Svphax,  joined  him- 
self; and  was  to  b'e  soon  followed  by  'indibilis,  a 
powerful  Spanish  prince.  The  armies  came  to  anen- 
gB2;enient.  The  Romans,  being-  thus  attacked  on  all 
sides  at  once,  made  a  brave  resistance  as  long  as  they 
had  Iheir  general  at  their  head;  but  the  moment  he 
fell,  the  few  troops  which  had  escaped  the  slaughter 
secured  themselves  by  flight. 

The  three  victorious  armies  marched  immediately 
in  quest  of  Cneus,  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  the  war 

i  Auili'a  vox  Annibalis  fertur.  Potiunds  gibi  urbin  Ro- 
ma?, modo  mcntem  non  dari,  roodo  fortunam.  Lie.  1.  xxvi. 
n.  H. 

'  Feronia  was  the  goddess  of  proves,  and  there  was  one, 
with  a  temple  in  it,  dedicated  to  her,  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  Soraete.  Strabo.  speaking  of  the.  grove  where  the. 
goddess  was  worshipped.  say»,  that  a  sacrifice  was  offered 
annually  to  her  in  it;  and  that  her  votaries,  inspired  by  this 
{oddes?,  walked  unhurt  over  burning  coals.  There  are  still 
extant  some  medals  of  Augustus  in  which  this  goddes*  is 
repr»wnted  with  a  crown  on  her  h«.id. 

•  Viliu*  Viriu?,  the  chief  of  this  conspiracy,  after  having 
represented  to  the  Papuan  senate,  the  severe  treatment 
whi«-h  hi*  country  might  expert  from  the  Romans,  prevailed 
with  twenty-seven  senators  to  go  with  him  to  his  own  house, 
where,  after  eatinga  plentiful  dinner,  and  heating  themselves 
with  wine,  they  all  drank  poison.  Then  taking  their  last 
farewell,  some  withdrew  to  their  own  houses,  others  staved 
wttn  Virius;  and  all  expired  before  the  gates  were  opened  to 
the  Romans.  Lie.  1.  xxvi.  n.  13.  J4. 

«  Confes<io  express*  hosti.  ijuanta  via  in  Roman!*  ad  ex- 
petenrias  pcenai  ab  infidtlibus  cociis.  et  qiiam  nihil  in 
Annihale  auxilii  ad  rrceptos  in  firiem  tuendos  esset.  Lit. 
L  tx  v  i  n  16  •  LIT.  1.  xxv.  n.  33—39. 


by  his  defeat.  He  was  already  more  than  half  van- 
quished by  the  desertion  of  his  allies,  who  all  forsook 
him;  and  left  to  the  Roman  generals  this  important 
instruction;6  viz.  nevtr  to  let  their  own  forces  be  en- 
ceeded  in  number  by  those  of  foreigners.  He  guessed 
that  his  brother  was  slain,  and  his  army  defeated  upon 
seeing  such  great  bodies  of  the  enemv  arrive.  He 
survived  him  but  a  short  time,  being  kifled  in  the  en- 
gagement. These  two  great  men  were  equally  la- 
mented by  their  citizens  and  allies;  and  Spain  deeplj 
felt  their  loss,  because  of  the  justice  and  moderation 
of  their  conduct. 

These  extensive  countries  seemed  now  inevitably 
lost;  but  the  valour  of  L.  Marcius,7  a  private  officer 
of  the  equestrian  order,  preserved  them  to  the  Ro- 
mans. Shortly  after  this,  the  younger  Scipio  was  sent 
thither,  who  severely  revenged  the  death  of  his  fath- 
er and  uncle,  and  restored  the  affairs  of  the  Romans 
in  Spain  to  their  former  Nourishing  condition. 
The  Defeat  and  Death  of  Atdrubal. 

One  unforeseen  defeat  ruined  all  A.  M.  3798. 
the  measures,  and  blasted,  all  the  A.  Rom.  542. 
hopes  of  Hannibal  with  regard  to 
Italy.8  The  consuls  of  this  year,  which  was  the 
eleventh  of  the  second  Punic  war  (for  I  pass  over 
several  events  for  brevity's  sake,)  were  C.  Claudius 
IVero,  and  M.  Livius.  The  latter  had,  fer  his  pro- 
vince, the  Cisalpine  Gaul,  where  he  was  to  oppose 
Asdrubal,  who.it  was  reported,  was  preparing  to  pass 
the  Alps.  The  former  commanded  in  the  country  of  the 
Brutians,  and  in  Lucania,  that  is,  the  opposite  extremity 
of  Italy,  and  was  there  making  head  against  Hannibal. 

The  passage  of  the  Alps  gave  Asdrubal  very  little 
trouble,  because  his  brother  nad  cleared  the  way  for 
him,  and  all  the  nations  were  disposed  to  receive 
him.  Some  time  after  this,  he  despatched  couriers  to 
Hannibal,  but  they  were  intercepted.  Nero  found  by 
their  letters,  that  Asdrubal  was  hastening  to  join  his 
brother  in  Umbria.  In  a  conjuncture  of  so  important 
a  nature  as  this,  when  the  safety  of  Rome  lay  at  stake, 
he  thought  himself  at  liberty  to  dispense  with  the  es- 
tablished rule9  of  his  duty,  for  the  welfare  of  his 
country.  In  consequence  of  this.it  was  his  opinion, 
that  such  a  bold  and  unexpected  blow  ought  to  be 
struck,  as  might  be  capable  of  striking  terror  into  the 
enemy;  by  marching  to  join  his  colleague,  in  order 
that  they  might  charge  Asdrubal  unexpectedly  with 
their  united  forces.  This  design,  if  the  several  cir- 
cumstances of  it  were  thoroughly  examined,  should 
not  be  hastily  charged  with  imprudence.  To  prevent 
the  two  brothers  from  joining  their  armies,  was  to 
gave  the  state.  Very  little  would  be  hazarded,  even 
though  Hannibal  should  be  informed  of  the  absence 
of  the  consul.  From  his  army,  which  consisted  of 
42.000  men,  he  drew  out  but  7000  for  his  own  detach- 
ment, which  indeed  were  the  flower  of  his  troops,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  a  very  inconsiderable  part  of  them. 
The  rest  remained  in  the  camp,  which  was  advan- 
tageously situated,  and  strongly  fortified.  Now,  could 
it  be  supposed  that  Hannibal  would  attack  and  force 
a  strong  camp  defended  by  35,000  men  1 

Nero  set  out  without  jr'iving  his  soldiers  the  least 
notice  of  his  design.  When  he  had  advanced  so  far 
as  that  it  might  be  communicated  without  any  danger 
he  told  them,  that  he  was  leading  them  to  certain 
victory:  that,  in  war,  all  things  depended  upon  repu- 
tation :  that  the  bare  rumour  of  their  arrival  would  dis- 
concert all  the  measures  of  the  Carthaginians;  and 
that  the  whole  honour  of  this  battle  would  fall  to  them. 

They  marched  with  extraordinary  dilig-ence,  and 
joined  the  other  consul  in  the  night,  but  did  not  pitch 


•  Id  q n  idem  cavendum  semper  Romanic  docibus  erit,  ex- 
emplaqne  ha?c  »er*  pro  documentis  habenda.     Ne  ita  ex 
ternis  credant  auxiliis.  ut  non  plus  sui  roboris  suarumquo 
proprie  virium  in  castris  habeant.     IAV.  I.  x*v.  n.  33. 

'  He  attacked  the  Carthaginians,  who  had  divided  them- 
selves  into  two  camps,  and  were  secure,  as  they  thought, 
from  any  immediate  attempt  of  the  Romans;  killed  37,000 
of  them ;  took  18.000  prisoners,  and  brought  off  immense 
plunder.  Liv.  I.  xxv.  n.  39. 

•  Polyb.  I.  xi.  p.  622— 625.     Lir.  1.  xxvii.  p.  35,  39,  51. 

•  No  general  was  allowed  to  leare   his  own  proTinr*.  M 
go  into  that  of  another. 


112 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


ie parate  camps,  the  better  to  impose  upon  the  enemy. 
The  troops  which  were  newly  arrived  joined  those  of 
Livius.  The  army  of  Porcius  the  Praetor  was  en- 
camped near  that  of  the  consul,  and  in  the  morning  a 
council  of  war  was  held.  Livius  was  of  opinion,  that 
it  would  be  better  to  allow  the  troops  some  days  to 
refresh  themselves;  but  Nero  besought  him  not  to 
ruin,  bv  delay,  an  enterprise  to  which  despatch  only 
coukl  give  success:  and  to  take  advantage  of  the  error 
of  the  enemv,  as  well  absent  as  present.  This  advice 
was  complied  with,  and  accordingly  the  signal  for  bat- 
tle was  given.  Asdrubal,  advancing  to  his  foremost 
ranks,  discovered,  by  several  circumstances,  that  fresh 
troops  were  arrived;  and  he  did  not  doubt  but  that 
they  belonged  to  the  other  consul.  This  made  him 
conjecture  that  his  brother  had  sustained  a  considera- 
le  loss,  and,  at  the  same  time,  fear,  that  he  was  come 
too  late  to  his  assistance. 

After  making  these  reflections,  he  caused  a  retreat 
to  be  sounded,  and  his  army  began  to  march  in  great 
disorder.  Night  overtaking  him,  and  his  guides  de- 
sertinsr,  he  was  uncertain  what  way  to  go.  He 
marched  at  random,  along  the  banks  ot  the  river  Me- 
taurus,1  and  was  preparing  to  cro*s  it,  when  the  three 
armies  of  the  enemy  came  up  with  him.  In  this  ex- 
tremity, he  saw  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  avoid 
coming  to  an  engagement;  and  therefore  did  every 
thin^  which  could  be  expected  from  the  presence  of 
mind  and  valour  of  a  great  captain.  He  seized  an 
advantageous  post,  and  drew  up  his  forces  on  a  nar- 
row spot,  which  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  posting 
his  left  wing  (the  weakest  part  of  his  army)  in  such  a 
manner,  that  it  could  neither  be  attacked  in  front,  nor 
charged  in  Hank;  and  of  giving  to  his  main  battle  and 
right  wing,  a  greater  depth  than  front.  After  this  hasty 
disposition  of  his  forces,  he  posted  himself  in  the  centre, 
and  was  the  first  to  march  to  attack  the  enemy's  left 
wing;  well  knowing  that  all  was  at  stake, and  that  he 
must  either  conquer  or  die.  The  battle  lasted  a  long 
time,  and  was  obstinately  disputed  by  both  parties. 
Asilrubal,  especially,  signalized  himself  in  this  en- 
gagement, and  added  new  glory  to  that  he  had  already 
acquired  by  a  series  of  shining  actions.  He  led  on 
his  soldiers  trembling  and  quite  dispirited,  against  an 
enemy  superior  to  them  both  in  numbers  and  resolu- 
tion. He  animated  them  by  his  words,  supported 
them  by  his  example,  and,  with  entreaties  and  men- 
aces, endeavoured  to  bring  back  those  who  fled;  till 
at  last,  seeing  that  victory  declared  for  the  Romans, 
and  being  unable  to  survive  the  loss  of  so  many  thou- 
sand men,  who  had  quitted  their  country  to  follow  his 
fortune,  he  rushed  at  once  into  the  midst  of  a  Roman 
cohort,  and  there  died  in  a  manner  worthy  the  son 
of  Hamilcar,  and  the  brother  of  Hannibal. 

This  was  the  most  bloody  battle  the  Carthaginians 
had  fought  during  this  war:  and,  whether  we  consider 
the  death  of  the  general,  or  the  slaughter  made  of  the 
Carthaginian  forces,  it  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  repri- 
sal for  the  battle  of  Cannae.  The  Carthaginians  lost 
55,000  men,  and  6000  were  taken  prisoners.  The 
Romans  lost  8000.  These  were  so  weary  of  killing, 
that  some  person*  telling  Livius  that  he  miarht  very 
easily  cut  to  pieces  a  body  of  the  enemy  who  were 
flying:  //  is  Jit,  says  he,  that  some  shoii  I J  survive  in 
order  that  they  may  carry  the  news  of  this  defeat  to 
Hit  Carthaginians. 

Nero  set  out  upon  his  march,  on  the  very  night  which 
followed  the  engagement.  Through  every  place 
where  he  passed,  in  his  return, shouts  of  joy  a'nd  loud 
acclamations  welcomed  him,  instead  of  tnose  fears 
and  uneasinesses  which  his  coming  had  occasioned. 
He  arrived  in  his  camp  the  sixth  day.  Asdiubal's 
head  being  thrown  into  the  camp  of  the  Carthagi- 
nians, informed  Hannibal  of  his  brother's  unhappy 
fate.  Hannibal  perceived,  by  this  crurl  stroke,  the 
fortune  of  Carthage:  Jill  is  over,  says  he,2  I  shall  no 

'   Now  cnllpri  Melaro. 

*  Howe  mnkrs  him  «peak  Ihui,  in  his  beautiful  ode  where 
tnit  d  -fpnl  i*  Hrprrihrd  : 

Cnrtharini  jam  non  fgo  nuntiog 
Miunm  su|yrb«u.     Ocridii,  occidit 
f?l*>«  nmnis.et  fortuna  uostri 
Nominii.  Aidruhale  interempto.      iH.  IT.  Od.  4. 


longer  send  triumphant  messages  to  Carthage.  In  los- 
ing .Isdrtibal,  I  have  lost  at  once  all  my  l.ope,  all  my 
goodjbrttine.  He  afterwards  retired  to  the  extrt  mitiet 
of  the  country  of  the  Brutians,  where  he  asstmblt  ti  all 
his  forces,  wh'o  found  it  a  very  citiicult  matu  r  to  subsist 
there,  as  no  previsions  were  sent  them  from  Carthage. 
Scifio  conquers  all  -Spain.  /*  appointed  Consul  and 
tails  into  slfrica.  Hannibal  is  recalled. 

The  fate  of  arms  was  not  more  A.  M.  3799 
propitious  to  the  Carthaginians  in  A.  Rom.  543. 
Spain.3  The  prudent  vivacity  of 
young  Scipio  had  restored  the  Roman  affairs  in  that 
country  to  their  former  flourishing  state,  as  the  coura* 
geous  slowness  of  Fabius  had  before  done  in  Italy. 
The  three  Carthaginian  generals  in  Spain,  Ast'rubal 
son  of  Gisgo,  Hanno,  and  Mago,  having  been  t'eitat* 
ed  with  their  numerous  annit*  by  the  Romans  in  se- 
veral engagements,  Scipio  at  last  possessed  himself  of 
Spain,  and  subjected  it  entirely  to  the  Roman  power. 
It  was  at  this  time  that  Masinissa,  a  very  powerful 
African  prince  went  over  to  the  Romans,  and  Sy- 
phax,  on  the  contrary,  to  the  Carthaginians. 

Scipio,  at  his  return  to  Rome,  was 
declared  consul,  beingthen  thirty  years      A.  M.  3800. 
of  age.     He  had  P.  Licinius  Crassus    A.  Rom.  544 
for  his  colleague.     Sicily  was  allotted 
to  Scipio,  with  permission  for  him  to  cross  into  Africa, 
if  he  found  it  convenient.     He  set  out  with  p.ll  ima- 
ginable expedition  for  his  province;  whilst  his  col- 
league was  to  command  in  the  country  whither  Han- 
nibal was  retired. 

The  taking  of  New  Carthage,  where  Scipio  had 
displayed  all  the  prudence,  the  courage,  and  capacity, 
which  could  have  been  expected  from  the  greatest 
generals,  and  the  conquest  of  all  Spain,  were  n:ore 
than  sufficient  to  immortalize  his  name:  but  he  had 
considered  these  onlv  as  so  many  steps  by  which  he 
was  to  climb  to  a  nobler  enterprise:  this  was  the  con- 
quest of  Africa.  Accordingly,  he  crossed  over  thith- 
er, and  made  it  the  seat  of  the  war. 

The  devastationof  the  country,  the  siege  of  Utica, 
one  of  the  strongest  cities  of  Africa ;  the  entire  defeat 
of  the  two  armies  under  Syphax  and  Asdrubal,  whose 
camp  was  burnt  by  Scipio;  end  afterwards  the  taking 
Syphax  himself  prisoner,  who  was  the  most  po\v<  rful 
resource  the  Carthaginians  had  left;  all  these  thing* 
forced  them  at  last  to  turn  their  thoughts  to  peace 
For  this  purpose  they  deputed  thirty 'ot  their  princi- 
pal senators,  who  were  selected  from  that  powerful 
body  at  Carthage,  called  the  council  nf  the  hundred, 
Being  introduced  into  the  Roman  general's  tent,  they 
all  threw  themselves  prostrate  on  the  earth,  (such  was 
the  custom  of  their  country,)  spoke  to  him  in  terms 
of  great  submission,  accusing  Hannibal  as  the  author 
of  all  their  calamities,  and  promising,  in  the  name  o 
the  senate,  an  implicit  obedience  to  whatever  the  Ro- 
mans should  please  to  ordain.  Scipio  answered,  that 
though  he  was  come  into  Africa  not  for  peace,  but 
conquest,  he  would  however  grant  them  a  peace  upon 
condition  that  they  should  deliver  up  all  the  prisoners 
and  deserters  to  the  Romans;  that  they  should  recall 
their  armies  out  of  Italy  and  Gaul:  should  never  set 
foot  again  in  Spain;  should  retire  out  of  nil  the  Is- 
lands between  Italy  and  Africa:  should  deliver  up  all 
their  ships,  twenty  excepted,  to  the  victor;  should  give 
to  the  Romans  500,000  bushels  of  wheat,  300,000  of 
barrey,  and  pay  15,000  talents:  and  that  in  case  their 
were  pleased  with  these  conditions,  they  then,  he  said, 
might  send  ambassadors  to  the  senate.  The  Cartha- 
ginians feigned  a  compliance,  but  this  was  only  to 
gain  time,  till  Hannibal  should  be  returned.  A  true* 
was  then  granted  to  the  Carthaginians,  who  iiinnedi 
ately  sent  deputies  to  Rome,  and  at  the  same  time  an 
express  to  Hannibal,  to  order  his  return  into  Africa. 

He  was   then,  as  was  observed   be- 
fore, in  the  extremity  of  Italy.     Here      A.  M.  3R02. 
he    received     the    orders    from    Car-  A.  Rom.  546. 
thage,  which   he    could   not   listen   to 
without  groans,  and  almost  shedding  tears;  and  was 


'  Polyh.  1.  xi.  p.  P50.  &  I.  JIT.  p.  677—687.  4:  1.  x».  p 
OBB-4M,  Liv.  I.  Mviii.  n.  1—4.  16.  38.  4ft— «6.  '..  \xix  • 
24—36.  i«.  B.  20— M. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


113 


•Mtjjeratrd  alu.ust  to  madness,  to  see  himself  thus 
forced  to  quit  his  prey.  Never  banished  man1  showed 
to  much  regret  at  leaving  his  native  country,  as  Han- 
nibal did  in  going  out  of  that  ot  an  enemy.  Heoften 
turned  his  eyes  wishfully  to  Italv,  accusing  gods  and 
men  of  his  misfortunes,  and  railing  down  a  thousand 
curses,  says  Livy,2  upon  himself  for  not  having 
inarched  hi*  soldiers  directly  to  Rome,  after  the  bat- 
tle of  Caiiu.T,  whilst  they  were  stiH  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  its  citizens. 

At  Rome,  the  Senate,  greatly  dissatisfied  with  the 
excuses  made  by  the  Carthaginian  deputies,  ioJMtffi- 
cation  of  their  republic,  and  the  ridiculous  otter  which 
they  made  in  its  name,  of  adhering  to  the  treaty  of 
Lutatius;  thought  proper  to  refer  the  decision  of  the 
whole  to  Sripio,  who,  being  on  the  spot,  could  best 
:udge  what  conditions  the  welfare  of  the  state  required. 

About  the  same  time,  Octavius  the  praetor  sailing 
from  Sicily  into  Africa  with  200  vessels  of  burden,  was 
attacked  near  Carthage  by  a  furious  storm,  which  dis- 
persed all  his  licet.  The  citizens  not  bearing  to  see 
go  rich  a  prey  escape  them,  demanded  importunately 
that  the  Carthaginian  fleet  might  sail  out  and  seize  it. 
The  senate,  after  a  faint  resistance,  complied.  As- 
drubal,  sailing  out  of  the  harbour,  seized  the  greatest 
part  of  the  tUMBBB  ships,  and  brought  them  to  Car- 
thage, although  the  truce  was  still  subsisting. 

Scipio  sent  deputies  to  the  Carthaginian  senate,  to 
complain  of  this;  but  they  were  little  regarded.  Han- 
nibal's approach  had  revived  their  courage,  and  filled 
th<  m  with  great  hopes.  The  deputies  were  even  in 
great  danger  of  being^  ill  treated  by  the  populace. 
Fhcv  therefore  demanded  a  convoy,  which  was  grant- 
ed, and  accordingly  two  ship*  of  th'e  republic  attended 
them.  But  the  magistrates,  who  were  absolutely 
against  peace,  and  determined  to  renew  the  war, gave 
private  orders  to  Asdrubal  (who  was  with  the  fleet  near 
Utica,)  to  attack  the  Roman  galley  when  it  should  ar- 
rive in  the  river  Bragada,  near  the  Roman  camp,  where 
the  convoy  was  ordered  to  leave  them.  He  obeyed 
the  order,  and  sent  out  two  galleys  against  the  ambas- 
sadors, who  nevertheless  made  their  escape,  but  with 
difficulty  and  danger. 

This  was  a  fresh  subject  for  a  war  between  the  two 
nations,  who  now  were  more  animated,  or  rather  more 
exasperated,  one  against  the  other,  than  ever:  the  Ro- 
mans from  a  desire  of  taking  vengeance  for  so  black 
a  perfidy;  and  the  Carthaginians,  from  a  persuasion 
that  they  were  not  now  to  expect  a  peace. 

At  the  same  time  Lrelius  and  Fulvius,  who  carried 
the  full  powers  with  which  the  senate  and  people  of 
Rome  had  invested  Scipio,  arrived  in  the  camp,  accom- 
panied by  the  deputies  of  Carthage.  As  the  Cartha- 
ginians had  not  only  infringed  the  truce,  but  violated 
the  law  of  nations,  in  the  person  of  the  Roman  ambas- 
sadors; it  might  naturally  be  expected  that  they  should 
order  the  Carthaginian  deputies  to  be  seized  by  way 
of  reprisal.  However,  Scipio,3  more  attentive  to  what 
was  required  by  the  Roman  generosity,  than  by  the 
perfidy  of  the  Carthaginians,  in  order  not  to  deviate 
from  the  principles  and  maxims  of  his  own  country- 
men, nor  his  own  character,  dismissed  the  deputies, 
without  offering  them  the  least  injury.  So  astonishing 
an  instance  of  moderation,  and  at  such  a  juncture,  ter- 
rified the  Carthaginian;,  and  even  put' them  to  the 
blush;  aivl  made  Hannibal  himself  entertain  a  still 
highi-r  idea  of  a  general,  who,  to  the  dishonourable 
practices  of  his  enemies,  opposed  only  a  rectitude  and 


»  Ra.ro  quenquam  alittm  patriam  erilii  eanta  relinqven- 
tern  mafis  mnslum  atei.vte  ferunl .  qiiam  .Innibalcm  hottium 
terra,  r.rctrfrntt m.  RffpK.ris.ie  s<rpe  f/a'iir  lilfora  et  deos  ho- 
mtne.tqitc  aceusnnttm,  in  ft  qvoque  ac  stium  ipsius  capvt  exe- 
iratum.  Uuod  non  rruentumnl)  Cannenii  victoria  miliiem 
Romam  du.iisset  Liv.  xxx.  n.  20. 

*  I. ivy  «u[!|x>sr«,  however,  that  thin  <M«y  wai  a  capital 
erior  in  Hannibal,  which  he  him<Hf  afttirwanla  regretted. 

«  '  E-«:-fi  rt  ;rjef '  x  .TV  «••./>  *.:>  i^i.un  :.-,  ci  jj  sir*  TI  },'cv 
»r»j;Tv  Kl*Xtf»ill><  »•.-  T-;  lilyrv  :7  f  ;<  £»<  '  T  A.U»,'CU,-.  Poljb. 

I.  xv.  n   Of5.  edit.  Groiiov. 

QaibiiK  Sripio.     F.lsi  nan  induciarvm  moilufda.ffdetimm 
fas  frntiiim  in  tr<ratis  rin/atitm  essct ;  tamen  se  nikil  nee  in- 
ititvUt  popu.lt  Romani  neaui.i  moribus  indifnum  in  iiifac- 
turvm  ti»e.     Liv.  1.  xxx.  n.  25. 
Vol.  I.— 15. 


greatness  of  soul,  that  was  still  more  worthy  of  admi 
ration  than  all  his  military  virtues. 

In  the  mean  time,  Hannibal  being  strongly  impor- 
tuned  by  his  fellow-citizens,  advanced  forward  into  the 
country;  and  arriving  at  Zania,  which  is  five  days 
march  from  Carthage,  he  there  pitched  his  camp.  He 
thence  sent  out  spies  to  observe  the  position  of  the 
Romans.  Scipio  having  seized  these,  so  far  from  pun- 
ishing them,  only  commanded  them  to  be  leu  about  the 
Roman  camp,  in  order  that  they  might  make  an  exact 
survey  of  it,  and  then  sent  them  back  to  Hannibal. 
The  latter  knew  very  well  whence  so  noble  an  assu- 
rance flowed.  After  the  strange  reverses  he  had  met 
with,  he  no  longer  expected  that  fortune  would  again 
be  propitious.  Whilst  every  one  was  exciting  him  to 
give  battle,  himself  only  meditated  a  peace.  He  flat- 
tered himself  that  the  conditions  of  it  would  be  more 
honourable,  as  he  was  the  head  of  an  army,  and  as  the 
fate  of  arms  might  still  appear  uncertain.  He  there- 
fore sent  to  desire  an  interview  with  Scipio,  which  ac- 
cordingly was  agreed  to,  and  the  time  and  place  fixed. 

The  interview  between  Hannibal  and  Scipio  in  Af- 
rica,followed  by  a  Battle. 

These  two  generals,*  who  were  not  A.  M.  3803. 
only  the  most  illustrious  of  their  own  A.  Rom.  547. 
age,  but  worthy  of  being  ranked  with 
the  most  renowned  princes  and  warriors  that  had 
ever  lived,  having  met  at  the  place  appointed,  conti 
nued  for  some  time  in  a  deep  silence,  as  though  they 
were  astonished,  and  struck  with  a  mutual  admira- 
tion at  the  sight  of  each  other.  At  last  Hannibal 
spoke,  and  after  having  praised  Scipio  in  the  most  art- 
ful and  delicate  manner,  he  gave  a  very  lively  descrip- 
tion of  the  ravages  of  the  war,  and  the  calamities  in 
which  it  had  involved  both  the  victors  and  the  van- 
quished. He  conjured  him  not  to  suffer  himself  to  b« 
dazzled  by  the  splendour  of  his  victories.  He  repre- 
sented to  him,  that  how  successful  soever  he  might  have 
hitherto  been,  he  ought  howeverto  be  aware  of  the  in 
constancy  of  fortune;  that  without  going  far  back  for 
examples,  he  himself,  who  was  then  speaking  to  him, 
was  a  glaring  proof  of  this:  that  Scipio  was  at  that 
time  what  Hannibal  had  bef  n  at  Thrasymenus  and 
Cannae;  that  he  ought  to  make  a  better  use  of  oppor- 
tunity than  himself  had  done.by  consenting  to  a  peace. 
now  it  was  in  his  power  to  propose  the  conditions  of 
it.  He  concluded  with  declaring,  that  the  Carthagi- 
nians would  willingly  resign  Sicily,  Sardinia,  Spam, 
and  all  the  islands  between  Africa"  and  Italy,  to  the 
Romans;  that  they  must  be  forced,  since  such  was 
the  will  of  the  gods,  to  confine  themselves  to  Africa; 
whilst  they  should  see  the  Romans  extending  their 
conquests  to  the  most  remote  regions,  and  obliging 
all  nations  to  pay  obedience  to  their  laws. 

Scipio  answered  in  few  words,  but  not  with  less 
dignity.  He  reproached  the  Carthaginians  <>.r  their 
perfidy,  in  plundering  the  Roman  galleys  before  the 
truce  was  expired.  He  imputed  to  them  alone,  and  to 
their  injustice,  all  the  calamities  with  which  the  two 
wars  had  been  attended.  After  thanking  HannibaJ 
for  the  admonition  he  had  given  him,  with  regard  to  the 
uncertainty  of  human  events,  he  concluded  with  desi- 
ring him  to  prepare  for  battle,  unless  he  chose  rather 
to  accept  of  the  conditionsthat  had  been  already  pro- 
posed; to  which  (he  observed)  some  others  would  be 
added,  in  order  to  punish  the  Carthaginians  for  their 
having  violated  the  truce. 

Hannibal  could  not  prevail  with  himself  to  accept 
these  conditions,  and  the  generals  left  one  another, 
with  the  resolution  to  decide  the  fate  of  Carthage  by 
a  general  battle.  Each  commanderexhorted  his  troops 
to  fight  valiantly.  Hannibal  enumerated  the  victories 
he  had  gained  over  the  Romans,  the  generals  he  had 
slain,  the  armies  he  had  cut  to  pieces.  Scipio  repre- 
sented to  his  soldiers,  the  conquest  of  both  the  Spain*, 
his  successes  in  Africa,  pnd  the  confession  the  enemies 
themselves  made  of  their  weakness,  by  thus  coming  to 
sue  for  peace.  AH  this  he  spoke  with  the  tone  ano 


«  Polyb.  1.  XT.  p.  634—703.    IJ».  1.  xxx.  n.  29  35 
K.  Z 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


•ir  of  a  conqueror.1  Never  were  motives  more  pow- 
erful to  prompt  troops  to  behave  gallantly.  This  day 
wag  to  complete  the  glory  of  the  one  or  the  other  of 
the  generals;  and  to  decide  whether  Rome  or  Car- 
thage was  to  prescribe  laws  to  all  other  nations. 

1  shall  not  undertake  to  describe  the  order  of  the 
battle,  nor  the  valour  of  the  forces  on  both  sides.  The 
reader  will  naturally  suppose,  that  two  such  experi- 
enced generals  did  not  forget  any  circumstance  which 
could  contribute  to  the  victory.  The  Carthaginians.  I 
after  a  very  obstinate  fight,  were  obliged  to  liy,  ;eaving 
20,000  me'n  on  the  fiela  of  battle,  p.nd  the  like  number 
of  prisoners  were  taken  by  the  Romans.  Hannibal 
escaped  in  the  tumult,  and  entering  Carthage,  owned 
that  he  was  irrecoverably  overthrown,  and  that  the 
citizens  had  no  nther  choice  left  than  to  accept  of  peace 
on  anv  conditions.  Scipio  bestowed  great  eulogiums 
on  Hannibal,  chiefly  with  regard  to  his  ability  in 
taking  advantages,  his  manner  of  drawing  up  his 
army,  and  giving  out  his  orders  in  the  engagement; 
and  he  affirmed  that  Hannibal  had  this  day  surpassed 
himself,  although  the  success  had  not  answered  his 
valour  and  conduct. 

With  regard  to  himself,  he  well  knew  how  to  make  a 
proper  advantage  of  the  victory,  and  the  consternation 
with  which  he  had  filled  the  enemy.  He  commanded 
one  of  his  lieutenants  to  march  his  land  army  to  Car- 
thage, whilst  himself  prepared  to  conduct  the  fleet 
thither. 

He  was  not  far  from  the  city  when  he  met  a  vessel 
covered  with  streamers  and  olive  branches,  bringing 
ten  of  the  most  considerable  persons  of  the  state,  as 
ambassadors  to  implore  his  clemency.  However,  he 
dismissed  them  without  making  any  answer,  and  bade 
them  come  to  him  at  Tunis,  where  he  should  halt. 
The  deputies  of  Carthage,  thirty  in  number,  came  to 
him  at  the  place  appointed,  and  sued  for  peace  in  the 
most  submissive  terms.  He  then  called  a  council 
there,  the  majority  of  which  were  for  razing  Carthage, 
and  treating  the  inhabitants  with  the  utmost  severity. 
But  the  consideration  of  the  time  which  jiiust  neces- 
sarily be  employed  before  .«o  strongly  fortified  a  city 
could  be  taken ;  and  Scipio's  fear,  lest  a  successor 
might  be  appointed  him  whilst  he  should  be  employed 
in  the  siege,  made  him  incline  to  clemency. 

A  Peace  concluded  between  the  CarfkaeimuiM,  and 
the  Romans.     The  end  of  the  second  Punic  War. 

*  The  conditions  of  the  peace  dictated  by  Scipio  to 
the  Carthaginians  were,  That  the  Carthaginians 
thould  continuefree,  and  preserve  their  lairs,  their  ter- 
ritories, and  the  cities  they  possessed  in  Africa  before 
the  war — That  they  should  deliver  tip  to  the  Romans 
all  deserters,  slaves,  and  prisoners,  belonging-  to  them ; 
all  their  ships,  except  ten  triremes;  all  the  elephants 
which  they  then  had,  and  that  they  should  not  train 
vp  any  more  for  war — Tkat  they  sliouldnot  make  war 
out  of  Africa,  nor  even  in  that  country,  •without first 
obtaining  leavefor  that  purpose  from  the  Roman  peo- 
ple— Should  restore  to  JUasinissa  every  thing- of  which 
they  had  dispossessed  either  him  or  )iis  ancestors — 
Shovldfitrnish  money  and  corn  to  the  Roman  auxili- 
aries, till  their  ambassadors  should  he  returned  from 
Rome — Should  pay  to  the  Romans  10,000  Eitbotc  tal- 
ents3 of silver  in  fifly  annual  payments:  and  give  100 
hostages,  who  should  be  nominated  by  Scipio.  And 
in  order  that  they  might  have  time  to  send  to  Rome, 
he  ag-reed  to  grant  them  a  truce,  upon  condition  that 

<  (Ylsus  hire  corpore,  vultuque  ita  Iseto,  ut  virieee  jam 
erederes.  dicebat.  Liv.  \.  xxx.  n.  32. 

»  Pol v b.  I.  xv.  704—707.     Liv.  1.  xxx.  n.  70.  44. 

»  Ten  thousand  Attic  talentR  make  30,000,000  French  mo- 
ney. Ton  thousand  Eulioic  talents  make  something  more 
than  2? ,0^3, (100  livres;  because,  according  to  Buda-us,  the 
Euhoic  talent  in  equivalent  to  but  fifty-six  mina?  and  some- 
thing more,  whereas  the  Attic  talent  is  worth  sixty  minrc; 
or  otherwise  thur  calculated  in  English  money: 

According  to  Builtus,  the  Euboic  talent  is      •     56  Mine 

X  Minie  reduced  to  English  money     -     -     •     -     1751. 

Consequently,  10.000  Eulwiic  talents  make   1,750.000/. 

Po  that  the  Carthaginians  i»id  annually     •     35,000/. 

This  calculation  is  as  near  the  truth  as  it  can  well  be 
DrouL'ht ;  thn  Euboic  talent  being  something  more  than  56 
•nine 


they  shovld  restore  the  ships  taken  during  the  fir- 
mer, without  which  they  were  not  tn  expect  either  a 
truce  or  peace. 

When  the  deputies  were  returned  to  Carthag*. 
they  laid  before  the  senate  the  conditionsdictated  by 
Scipio.  But  they  appeared  so  intolerable  to  Gisgo, 
that  rising  up,  he  made  a  speech,  in  order  to  dissuade 
his  citizens  from  accepting  a  peace  on  such  shameful 
terms.  Hannibal,  provoked  at  the  calmness  with 
which  such  an  orator  was  heard,  took  Gisgo  bv  the 
arm,  and  dragged  him  from  his  seat.  A  be  Saviour  »o 
outrageous,  and  so  remote  from  the  manners  of  a  free 
city  like  Carthage,  raised  a  universal  murmur.  Han- 
nibal himself  was  vexed  when  he  reflected  on  what 
he  had  done, and  immediately  made  an  apology  forit. 
As  I  left,  says  he,  your  city  at  nine  years  of  age,  and 
did  not  return  to  it  till  after  thirty-six  years'  alisence, 
I  had  full  leisure  to  learn  the  artt  (fu-ar,  and  flatter 
myself  that  I  have  made  some  improvement  in  them. 
As  for  your  laws  and  customs,  it  is  no  wonder  I  am 
ignorant  of  them,  and  I  therefore  desire  you  to  in- 
struct me  in  them.  He  then  expatiated  on  the  indis- 
pensable necessity  they  were  under  of  concluding  a 
peace.  He  added  that  they  ought  to  thank  the  god* 
for  having  prompted  the  Romans  to  grant  them  a 
peace  even  on  these  conditions.  He  pointed  out  to 
them  the  great  importance  of  theiruniting  in  opinion; 
and  of  not  givingan  opportunity,  by  their  divisions, for 
the  people  to  take  an  aftair  of  this  nature  tinder  their 
cognizance.  The  whole  city  came  over  to  his  opinion; 
and  accordingly  the  peace  was  accepted.  The  senate 
made  Scipio  satisfaction  with  regard  to  the  ships  re- 
claimed by  him;  and  after  obtaining  a  truce  for  three 
months,  they  sent  ambassadors  to  Rome. 

These  Carthaginians,  who  were  all  venerable  for 
their  years  and  dignity,  were  admitted  immediately  to 
an  audience.  Asdrubal,  srurnamed  Hcrdiis,  who  was 
still  an  irreconcilable  enemy  to  Hannibal  and  his  fac- 
tion, spoke  first;  and  after  fiaving  excused,  to  the  best 
of  his  power,  the  people  of  Carthage,  bv  imputing  the 
rupture  to  the  ambition  of  some  particular  persons,  he 
added,that,  had  the  Carthaginians  listened  to  his  coun- 
sels and  those  of  Hanno,  they  would  have  been  able 
to  grant  the  Romans  the  peace  for  which  they  now 
were  obliged  to  sue.  But/  continued  he,  u-isdcm  and 
prosperity  are  rarely  found  together.  The  Romans 
are  invincible,  because  they  never  Differ  themselves  to 
be  blinded  by  good  fortune.  Andit  would  be  surpri- 
sing should  they  act  otherwise.  Success  dazzles  those 
only  to  u-hom  it  is  new  and  unusual;  whereas  the  Ru 
mans  are  to  much  accustomed  to  conquer,  that  they 
are  almost  insensible  to  the  charms  of  victory ;  and  it 
may  be  said  to  their  glory,  that  they  have  extended 
their  errpire  in  tome  measure,  more  by  the  humanity 
they  hcveshwniothe  conquered,  than  by  the  conquest 
itself.  The  other  ambassadors  spoke  with  a  mor« 
plaintive  tone  of  voice,  and  represented  the  calami- 
tous stateto  which  Carthage  was  going-  to  he  reduced 
and  the  grandeur  and  power  from  which  it  was  fallen 

The  senate  and  people  being  equally  inclined  to 
peace,  sent  full  power  to  Scipio  to  conclude  it;  left  the 
conditions  to  that  general. and  permitted  him  to  march 
back  his  army,  after  the  treaty  should  be  concluded. 

The  ambassadors  desired  leave  to  enter  thf  city,  to 
redeem  some  of  their  prisoners,  and  they  found  about 
200  whom  they  desired  to  ransom.  Butthesenatesent 
them  to  Scipio,  with  orders  that  they  should  be  restor- 
ed without  any  pecuniary  consideration,  in  case  a 
peace  should  b'e  concluded. 

The  Carthaginians,  on  the  return  of  their  ambassa- 
dors, concluded  a  peace  with  Scipio  on  the  terms  he 
himself  had  prescribed.  They  then  delivered  up  to 
him  more  than  500  ships,  all  which  he  burnt  in  sight 
of  Carthage;  a  lamentable  spectacle  to  the  inhabitants 
of  that  ill-fated  city.  He  struck  off"  the  heads  of  the 

4  Rard  simul  hominihus  bonam  fortunam  honamque  men- 
tem  dari  Populum.  Romanum  e6  invirtum  esse  quo.]  in  PC- 
cundis  rebus  sa|>ere  et  consulere  memineret.  Et  herelfc 
mirandum  fuisse  pi  aliler  facerent.  Ex  inHolentia.  quibut 
nnva  bona  forlona  »it,  impotentes  hplilia;  insanire:  populo 
Romano  usitata  ac  propi  obsolpta  ex  victoria  caudia  esj<«: 
ac  pins  pene  parcendo  rictis  quam  vincendo  imperiun.  aus 
ine.  JUe.  1.  xxi.  n.  42. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


115 


•.lies  of  the  Latin  name,  and  hanged  all  the  Roman 
citizens  who  were  surrendered  up  to  him,  as  deserters. 
When  the  time  for  the  first  pavment  of  the  first 
tribute  imposed  by  the  treaty  was  expired,  as  the  funds 
of  the  government  were  exhausted  bv  this  long;  and 
expensive  war;  the  difficulty  of  levying  go  great  a  sum, 
threw  the  senate  into  d«ep  affliction,  and  many  could 
Hot  retrain  even  from  tears.  Hannibal  on  this  occasion 
is  said  to  have  laughed ;  and  when  he  was  reproached 
bv  Asdrubal  Hoedus,  for  thus  insulting  his  country 
in  the  affiiction  which  he  had  brought  upon  it,  \Vere 
it  possible,  savs  Hannibal.^/br  my  heart  to  be  seen,  and 
that  as  clearly  as  my  countenance;  you  would  thtnfinJ 


who  bv  lot  were  to  give  the  first  vote,  whxh  geuerallv 
directed  all  the  rest, had  nominated  two  consu.s.  On 
the  bare  remonstrance  of  Fabius,3  who  represented  to 
the  people,  that  in  a  tempest,  like  that  with  « hich 
Rome  was  then  struggling,  the  ablest  pilots  ought  to 
be  chosen  to  steer  the  vessel  of  the  state  ;  the  century 
returned  to  their  suffrages,  and  nominated  other  con- 
suls. Polybius  infers,  that  a  people,  thus  guided  by 
the  prudence  of  old  men,  could  not  fail  of  prevailing 
over  a  state  which  was  governed  wholly  by  the  giddy 
multitude.  And  indeed,  the  Romans,  under  the 
guidance  of  the  wise  counsels  of  their  senate,  gained 
at  la*st  the  superiority  with  regard  to  the  war  const- 


that  tliis  la'ighter  which  offends  so  m  itch  flows  not  from  j  dered  in  general,  though  they  were  defeated  in  sevenu 


mn  intemperate  joy,  but  from  a  mind  almost  distracted 
with  the  pulilic  calamities.  But  i»  this  laughter  more 
unseasonable  thanyourunbecoming  tears?  Then,  then 
ought  you  to  have  wept,  when  your  arms  were  inglori- 
oiu/v  iakenfrom  you,  your  ships  burnt,  and  you  were 
forbidden  to  engage  in  anyforeignwars  Tlits  was  the 
mortal  blow  which  laid  us prott rate.  We  are  sensible  of 
publiccfilamilysofaronlyaswe  have apersonal concern 
in  it;  and  the  loss  of  our  money  gives  us  the  most  pvn- 
f  cut  sorrow.  Hence  it  was,  that  wittnour  city  rcasmade 
the  spoil  of  the  victor;  when  it  was  lift  disarmed  and  de- 
fenceless amidst  so  many  powerful  nations  of  Africa, 
who  laid  at  that  time  taken  the  field,  not  a  groan,  not  a 
figh,  was  heard.  But  now,  when  you  are  called  on  to 
contribute  individually  to  the  tax  imposed  upon  the 
state,  you  bewail  and  lament  a:  if  all-were  lost.  Alas! 
J  only  wish  that  the  sufject  of  this  day's  grief  may  not 
toon  appear  to  you  the  least  of  your  misfortunes. 

Scipio,  alter  all  things  were  concluded,  embarked  in 
order  to  return  to  Italy.  He  arrived  at  Rome,  through 
crowds  of  people,  whom  curiosity  had  drawn  together 
to  behold  his  march.  The  most  magnificent  triumph 
that  Rome  had  ever  seen  was  decreed  him,  and  the 
surname  of  Africanus  was  bestowed  upon  this  great 
man  ;  an  honour  till  then  unknown,  no  person  before 
him  having  assumed  the  name  of 

A.  M.  3S04.  a  vanquished  nation.  Such  was 
A.  (,arth.  64<>.  the  conclusion  of  the  second  Punic 
A.  Rom.  548.  war,  after  having  lasted  seventeen 
Ant.  J.  C.  200.  years. 

A  short  Re  flection  on  the  Government  of  Carthage  in 

thi  Time  of  the  tecond  Punic  lVar. 
I  shall  conclude  the  particulars  which  relate  to  the 
secon  1  1'unii.  war,  with  a  reflection  of  Polybius,1  which 
will  show  the  difference  between  the  two  common- 
wealths of  Rome  and  Carthage.     It  may  be  affirmed, 

e  second 


in  some  measure,  that  at  the  beginning  of  th 
Punic  war,  and   in   Hannibal's  time,  Carthag 
its  decline.    The  rtower  of  its  youth,  and  its  sprightly 
yigour,  were  already  diminished.     It  had  begun  to  fall 
from  its  exalted  pitch  of  power,  and  was  inclining 
towards  its  ruin  ;  whereas  Rome  was  then,  as  it  were, 
in  its  bloom  and  prime  of  life,  and  swiftly  advancing 
K>  the  conquest  of  the  universe. 

The  reason  of  the  declension  of  the  one,  and   the 
rise  of  the  other,  is  deduced,  bv  Polvbius,  from  the 
different  form  of  government    established    in    these     ^ 
commonwealths,  at  the  time  we  are  now  speaking  of. 


particular  engagements  ;  and  established  their  power 
and  grandeur  on  the  ruin  of  their  rivals. 

The  Interval  between  the  second  and  thi rd  Punic  Wars, 
This  interval,  though  considerable  enough  with 
regard  to  its  duration, since  it  took  up  above  filty  years, 
is  very  little  remarkable  as  to  the  events  which  relate 
to  Carthage.  They  may  be  reduced  to  two  heads;  of 
which  the  one  relates  to  the  person  of  Hannibal,  and 
the  other  to  some  particular  differences  between  the 
Carthaginians  and  Masmis.-a  king  of  the  Numidiana. 
We  shall  treat  both  separately,  but  at  no  great 
length. 

SECTION  I. — CONTINUATION  OF  THE  HISTORY  OF 
HANNIBAL. 

WHEN  the  second  Punic  war  was  ended,  by  the 
treaty  of  peace  concluded  with  Scipio,  Hannibal,  as 
he  himself  observed  in  the  Carthaginian  senate,  was 
forty-five  years  of  age.  What  we  have  further  to 
say  of  this  great  man,  includes  the  space  of  twenty- 
five  years. 

Hannibal  undertakes  and  completes  the  Reformation 
of  the  Courts  of  Justice,  and  the  Treasury  of  Car- 
thage. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  peace,  Hannibal,  at  least 
at  first,  was  greatly  respected  at  Carthage,  where  he 
filled  the  first  employments  of  the  state  with  honour 
and  applause.  He  headed  the  Carthaginian  forces  in 
some  wars  against  the  Africans  :*  but  the  Romans, 
to  whom  the  very  name  of  Hannibal  gave  uneasiness, 
not  being  able  to  see  him  in  arms  without  displeasure, 
made  complaint?  on  that  account,  and  accordingly  he 
was  recalled  to  Carthage. 

On  his  return  he  was  appointed  praetor,  which 
seems  to  have  been  a  very  considerable  employment, 
and  to  have  conferred  great  anthority.  Carthage  is 
therefore  going  to  be,  with  regard  to  him, a  new  thea- 
tre, as  it  were,  on  which  he  will  display  virtues  and 
qualities  of  a  quite  different  nature  from  those  we  have 
hitherto  admired  in  him,  and  which  will  finish  the 
picture  of  this  illustrious  man. 

Kagerly  desirous  of  restoring  the  affairs  of  his  af 
dieted  country  to  their  former  happy  condition,  he  was 


the  two  most  powerful    methods  to 
Hourish,  were,  an  exact  and  equal  distri* 
:  to  all  its  subjects  in  general,  and  a 


At  Carthage,  the  common  people  had  seized  upon 
the  sovereign  authority  with  regard  to  public  affairs, 
and  the  advice  of  their  ancient  men  or  magistrates  was 
no  longer  listened  to  ;  all  affairs  were  transacted  bv 
intrigue  and  cabal.  To  take  no  notice  of  the  artifices, 
which  the  faction  adverse  to  Hannibal  employed,  dur- 
ing the  whole  time  of  his  command,  to  perplex  him  ; 
the  single  instance  of  burning  the  Roman  v>  >.-<  I* 
during  a  truce,  a  perfidious  action  to  which  the  com- 
mon people  compelled  the  senate  to  lend  their  name 
and  assistance,  is  a  proof  of  Polvbius's  assertion.  On 
the  contrary,  at  this  very  time,  the  Romans  paid  the 
highest  regard  to  their  senate,  that  is,  to  a  body  com- 


iosed  of  the  greatest  sages  ;  and  their  old  men  were 
listened  to  and  revered  as  o  acles.  It  is  well  known 
that  the  Roman  people  were  exceedingly  jealous  of 
their  authority,  and  especial  f  in  whatever  related  to 
the  election  of  magistrates.  .  i  century  of  young  men,* 


•  Lib  T!  493,  494 


•  LIT.  1.  iziy.  n.  8,  9. 


scrupulous  fidelity  in  the  management  of  the  public 
finances.  The  former,  by  preserving  an  equality 
among  the  citizens,  and  making  them  enjoy  such  a 
delightfnl,  undisturbed  liberty,  underthe  protection  of 

properties  :  unites  the  individuals  of  the  common- 
wealth more  closely  together,  and  attaches  them  more 
firmly  to  the  state,  to  which  they  owe  the  preservation 
of  all  that  is  most  dear  and  valuable  to  them.  The 
latter,  by  a  faithful  administration  of  the  public  reve- 
nues, supplies  punctually  the  several  wants  and 
necessities  of  the  state  ;  keeps  in  reserve  a  never-fail- 
ing resource  for  sudden  emergencies,  and  prevents  the 

*  (luilibet  nautarum  rectorumque  tranquillo  mari  guber- 
nare  poteit:  L'bi  sirva  orta  tempestas  est,  ae  turbato  man 
rapitur  vento  naris,  tnm  viro  et  gubernatore  opus  eet.  Non 
tranquillo  navisamut,  ced  jam  aliquot  procellis  fuhni'  ra 
pene  sumus.  Itaque  quis  ad  subt-rnacula  sedcat,  turning 
cura  providendum  ac  pritca  vendum  nobu  est 

4  Corn.  Xep.  i.i  Aonib.  c.  7. 


110 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


i; 


people  from  being  burdened  with  new  taxes,  which 
are  rendered  necessary  by  extravagant  profusion,  and 
which  chiefly  contribute  to  make  men  harbour  an 
aversion  tor  the  government. 

Hannibal  saw,  with  great  concern,  the  irregularities 
which  had  crept  equally  into  the  administration  of 
justice,  and  the  management  of  the  finances.  Upon 
is  being  nominate  J  pr.etor,  as  his  love  for  regularity 
,nd  order  made  him  uneasy  at  every  deviation  from  it, 
and  prompted  him  to  use  his  utmost  endeavours  to 
restore  it  ;  he  had  the  courage  to  attempt  the  reforma- 
tion of  this  double  abuse,  which  drew  after  it  a  num- 
berless multitude  of  others,  without  dreading  either  the 
animosity  of  the  old  faction  that  opposed  him,  or  the 
new  enmity  which  his  zeal  for  the  republic  must  ne- 
cessarily draw  upon  him. 

The  judges  exercised  the  most  flagrant  extortion 
with  impunity.1  They  were  so  many  petty  tyrants, 
who  disposed,  in  an  arbitrary  manner,  of  the  lives  and 
fortunes  of  the  citizens  ;  without  there  being  the  least 
possibility  of  putting  a  stop  to  their  injustice,  because 
they  htld  their  commissions  for  life,  and  mutually 
supported  one  another.  Hannibal,  as  praetor,  sum- 
moned before  his  tribunal  an  officer  belonging  to  the 
bench  of  judges,  who  openly  abused  his  power.  Livy 
tells  us  that  he  was  a  questor.  This  officer,  who  was 
of  the  opposite  faction  to  Hannibal,  and  had  already 
assumed  all  the  haughtiness  and  pride  of  the  judges, 
among  whom  he  was  to  be  admitted  at  the  expiration 
of  his  present  office,  insolently  refused  to  obey  the 
summons.  Hannibal  was  not  of  a  disposition  to  sutler 
an  affront  of  this  nature  tamely.  Accordingly  he 
caused  him  to  be,  seized  by  a  lictor,  and  brought  him 
before  an  assembly  of  the  people.  There,  not  satisfied 
with  directing  his  resentment  qgainst  this  single  offi- 
cer, he  impeached  the  whole  bench  of  judges  ;  whose 
insupportable  and  tyrannical  pride  was  not  restrained 
either  by  the  fear  of  the  laws,  or  a  reverence  for  the 
magistrates.  And,  as  Hannibal  perceived  that  he  was 
heard  with  pleasure,  and  that  the  lowest  and  most  in- 
considerable of  th  ;  |:eoplediscovered,on  this  occasion, 
that  they  were  no  longer  able  to  bear  the  insolent  pride 
of  these  judges  whoseemed  to  have  adesign  upon  their 
liberties  he  proposed  a  law  (which  accordingly  pass- 
ed), by  which  it  was  enacted,  that  new  judges  should 
be  chosen  annually  ;  with  a  clause,  that  none  should 
continue  in  office  beyond  that  term.  The  law,  at  the 
same  time  that  it  acquired  him  the  friendship  and 
esteem  of  the  people,  drew  upon  him,  proportionably, 
the  hatred  of  the  greatest  part  of  the  grandees  and 
nobility. 

He  attempted  another  reformation,2  which  created 
him  new  enemies,  but  gained  him  great  honour.  The 
public  revenues  were  either  squandered  away  by  the 
negligence  of  those  who  had  the  management  of  them, 
or  were  plundered  by  the  chief  men  of  the  city,  and 
the  magistrates  ;  so  that  money  being  wanting  to  pay 
the  annual  tribute  due  to  the  Romans,  the  Carthagi- 
nians were  going  to  levy  it  upon  the  people  in  general. 
Hannibal,  entering  into  a  long  detail  of  the  public 
revenues,  ordered  an  exact  estimate  to  be  laid  before 
him  ;  inquired  in  what  manner  they  had  been  applied  ; 
the  employments  and  ordinary  expenses  of  the  state  ; 
and  having  discovered,  by  this  inquiry,  that  the  public 
funds  had  been  in  a  great  measure  embezzled,  by  the 
fraud  of  the  officers  who  had  the  management  of 
them  ;  he  declared,  and  promised,  in  a  full  assembly 
of  the  people,  that  without  laying  any  new  taxes  upon 
private  men,  the  republic  should  hereafter  be  enabled 
to  pay  the  tribute  to  the  Romans  ;  and  he  was  as  good 
as  his  word.  The  farmers  of  the  revenues,  whose 
plunder  and  rapine  he  had  publicly  detected,  having 
accustomed  themselves  hitherto  to  fatten  upon  the 
spoils  of  their  country,  exclaimed  vehemently  against 
these  regulations,3  as  if  their  own  property  had  been 
forced  out  of  their  hands,  and  not  the  sums  they  had 
plundered  from  the  public. 

»  Lir.  I.  xxxiii.  n.  46.  •  Llr.  1.  xxiii.  n.  46,  47. 

*  Turn  vro  isti,  <|uo«  parerat  per  aliquot  annos  publicus 
pcrulatus,  velut  bonis  ercptis,  non  furto  eurum  manibus 
extorto,  infi'iisi  et  irati,  Romnnoi  in  Annibalem,  et  ip*o* 
eauium  odii  quajrentes,  instigabant.  /.ii>. 


The  Retreat,  and  Death  of  Hanmbal. 

*  This  double  reformation  of  abuses  raised  great 
clamours  against  Hannibal.  His  enemies  were  writing 
incessantly  to  the  chief  men, or  their  friends,  at  Home, 
to  inform  them,  that  he  was  carrying  OP  a  secret  in- 
telligence with  Antiochus,  king  of  Sj.ia;  that  he 
frequently  received  couriers  from  him;  and  that  thii 
prince  had  privately  despatched  agents  to  Hannibal, 
to  concert  with  him  the  measures  tor  carrying  on  the 
war  he  was  meditating:  that  as  some  animals  are  so 
extremely  fierce,  that  it  is  impossible  ever  to  tame 
them;  in  like  manner  this  man  was  of  so  turbulent 
and  implacable  a  spirit,  that  he  could  not  brook  ease, 
and  therefore,  would,  sooner  or  later,breakout  again. 
These  informations  were  listened  to  at  Rome:  and  as 
the  transactions  of  the  preceding  war  had  bten  begun 
and  carried  on  almost  solely  by  Hannibal,  they  ap- 
peared the  more  probable.  However,  Scipio,  strongly 
opposed  the  violent  measures  which  the  senate  were 
going  to  take  on  their  receiving  this  intelligence,  by 
representing  it  asderogatory  to  the  dignity  of  the  Ro- 
man people,  to  countenance  the  hatred  and  accusa- 
tions of  Hannibal's  enemies;  to  support,  with  their 
authority,  their  unjust  passfons;  and  obstinately  to 
persecute  him  even  in  the  very  heart  of  his  country; 
as  though  the  Romans  had  not  humbled  him  suffi- 
ciently, in  driving  him  out  of  the  field,  and  forcing 
him  to  lay  down  his  arms. 

But  notwithstanding  these  prudent  remonstrances, 
the  senate  appointed  three  commissioneis  to  go  and 
make  their  complaints  to  Carthage,  and  to  demand 
that  Hannibal  should  be  delivered  up  to  them.  Oil 
the)/  arrival  in  that  city,  though  other  motives  were 
speciously  pretended,  yet  Hannibal  was  perfectly 
sensible  that  himself  only  was  aimed  at.  The  eve- 
ning being  come,  he  conveyed  himself  on  board  a 
ship  which  he  had  secretly  provided  for  that  purpose: 
on  which  occasion  he  bewailed  his  country's  flite  more 
than  his  own.  S(rpiu*  patriot  quam  suorum''  tvenlui 
miseratus.  This  was  the  eighth  year  after  the  con- 
clusion of  the  peace.  The  first  place  he  landed  at 
was  Tyre,  where  he  was  received  as  in  his  second 
country,  and  had  all  the  honors  paid  him  which  were 
due  to  his  exalted  merit. 

After  staying  some  days  here,  he 
set  out  for  Antioch,  which  the  king  A.  M.  3812. 
had  lately  left,  and  from  thence  waited  A.  Rom.  556 
upon  him  at  Ephesus.  The  arrival 
of  so  renowned  a  general  gave  great  pleasure  to  the 
king;  and  did  not  a  little  contribute  to  determine  him 
to  engage  in  war  against  Rome;  for  hitherto  he  had 
appeared  wavering  and  uncertain  on  that  head.  In 
this  city  a  philosopher,6  who  was  looked  upon  as  the 
greatest  orator  of  Asia,  had  the  imprudence  to  make 
a  long  harangue  before  Hannibal,  on  the  duties  of  a 
general,  and  the  rules  of  the  art-military.  The  speech 
charmed  the  whole  audience.  But  Hannibal  being 
asked  his  opinion  of  it,  I  have  seen,  says  he,many  old 
dotards  in  my  life,  but  this  exceeds  them  all.i 

The  Carthaginians,  justly  fearing  that  Hannibal's 
escape  would  certainly  draw  upon  them  the  arms  of 
the  Romans,  sent  them  advice  that  Hannibal  was 
withdrawn  to  Antiochus.8  The  Romans  were  very 
much  disturbed  at  this  news;  and  the  king  might 


«  L5».  1.  xxiii.  D.  45-49. 

i  It  is  probable  unit  we  should  read  suns. 

•  Cic.  de  Oral.  1.  ii.  n.  75,  7(i. 

*  IRc   Patnits  libere  respondisse  fertur,  mitlt  *  *e  delin 
genes  stipt  viilisse:  Sed  i/iti  magis  i/uam  PHormio  tlfliraret 
vidisse  n  eminent.     Stobaws.  Serm.    lii.    gives  the  following 
account  of  this   matter:  'Av»i3*f  ixouira;  2-r»ixo£   TH.OJ 
ia-.^.tjoCvTC;,  Sri  i  iroei?  /uivo;  o-T?*T>iyb;  JTTIV,  i^ix.»<ri, 

VOf*i^*aV    iJuVseTOV  I/van     ixTO(    Tljf    Si    5f^wV    IjUnifAAC    T1V     ir 

TOUTOI;  imiri  >v«nw  Sx"».  i.  e.  Hannibal  hearing  a  Stoic 
philosopher  undertake  to  prove  that  the  wise  man  wag  the 
only  general,  laughfd.  as  thinking  it  impossible  for  a  man 
to  have  any  skill  in  war  without  having  long  practised  it. 

»  They  did  more,  for  they  sent  two  ships  to  pursue  Han 
nibal,  and  bring  him  back  ;  they  toll)  off  his  goods,  razed 
Ins  house;  and,  by  a  public  decree,  declared  him  an  exilo 
Such  was  the  gratitude  the  Carthaginians  showed  to  th« 
greatest  general  tlier  over  had,.  Oprn.  JVep.  in  vita  Haitf 
nib.  c.  7. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


117 


have  turned  it  extremely  t>  his  advantage,  had  he 
known  how  to  make  a  proper  use  of  it. 

The  first  advice  that  Hannibal  gave  him  at  this 
time.'  and  which  he  frequently  repeated  afterwards, 
was,  to  make  Italy  the  seat  of  ihe  war.  He  required 
100  ships,  c-leven  or  12,000  land  forces.and  offered  to 
take  upon  himself  the  command  of  the  Meet;  to  cross 
into  Africa,  in  order  to  engage  the  Carthaginians  in 
the  war.  an  1  afterwards  to  nr.ike  a  descent  upon  Italy : 
during  which  the  king  himself  should  remain  in  Greece 
with  his  army,  holding  himself  constant!  v  in  readiness 
to  crossover  into  Italv,  whenever  it  should  be  thought 
convenient.  This  wras  the  only  thing  pro  per  to  be  done, 
aud  the  kmx  verv  much  approved  the  proposal  at  first. 

Hannibal  thought  it  would  be  expedient  to  prepare 
his  friends  rt  Carthage,2  in  order  to  engage  them  the 
more  strongly  in  his  views.  The  transmitting  of  in- 
formation by  letters,  is  not  only  unsafe,  but  they  can 
give  only  an  imperfect  idea  of  things,  and  are  never 
sufficiently  particular.  He  therefore  despatched  a 
trusty  person  with  ample  instructions  to  Carthage. 
This  man  was  scarce  arrived  in  the  city,  but  his  busi- 
ness was  suspected.  Accordingly,  he  was  watched 
and  followed:  and,  at  last,  orders  were  issued  for  his 
being  seized.  However,  he  prevented  the  vigilance 
of  his  enemies,  and  escaped  in  the  night;  after  naving 
fixed,  in  several  public  places,  papers  which  fully  de- 
clared the  occasion  of  his  journey.  The  senate  im- 
mediately sent  advice  of  this  to  the  Romans. 

Villius,3one  of  the  deputies  who  had 
A.  M.  3813.  been  sent  into  Asia,  to  inquire  into 
A.  Rom.  557.  the  state  of  affairs  there,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, to  discover  the  real  designs  of 
Antiochus,  found  Hannibal  in  Ephesus.  He  had 
many  conferences  with  him,  paid  him  several  visits, 
mnd  speciously  affected  to  show  a  particular  esteem 
for  him  on  all  occasions.  But  his  chief  aim,  by  all 
this  designing  behaviour,  was  to  make  him  be  suspect- 
ed, and  to  lessen  Ins  credit  with  the  king,  in  which 
he  succeeded  but  too  well.* 

5  Some  authors  affirm,  that  Scipio  was  joined  in 
this  embassy;  and  they  even  relate  the  conversation 
which  that  general  had*  with  Hannibal.  They  tell  us, 
that  the  Roman  having  asked  him,  who,  in  his  opinion, 
was  the  greatest  captain  that  had  ever  lived;  he  an- 
swere  1,  Aiaxander  the  Great, because,  with  a  handful 
of  MaceHonians,  he  had  defeated  numberless  armies, 
and  carried  his  conquests  into  countries  so  very  re- 
mote, that  it  seemed  scarce  possible  for  any  man  only 
to  travel  so  far.  Being  afterwards  asked,  to  whom  he 
gave  the  second  rank :  he  answered,  To  Pyrrhus,  be- 
cause this  king  was  the  first  who  understood  the  art 
of  pitching  a  camp  to  advantage;  no  commander  ever 
ma'le  a  more  judicious  choice  of  his  posts,  was  better 
gkille'i  in  drawing  up  his  forces,  or  was  more  dexter- 
ous in  winning  the  affections  of  foreign  soldiers;  in- 
somuch that  even  the  people  of  Italy  were  more 
desirous  to  have  him  for  their  governor,  though  a 
foreigner,  than  the  Romans  themselves,  who  had  so 
long  been  settled  in  their  conn  try.  Scipio  proceeding, 
asked  him  next,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  the  third: 
on  which  Hannibal  made  no  scruple  to  assign  that 
rank  to  himself.  Here  Scipio  cotil'l  not  forbear  laugh- 
ins::  But  what  would  yon  have  said,  continued  Scipio, 
had  ynit  conquered  me? — I  would,  replied  Hannibal, 
kave  ranked  myself a>iove  A  lexander,  Pyrrhus,  and  all 
the  general*  the  world  ever  produced.  Scipio  was  not 
insensihle  of  so  refined  and.  delicate  a  flattery,  which 
he  no  ways  expected;  and  which,  by  giving  him  no 
rival,  seemed  to  insinuate,  that  no  captain  was  worthy 
of  being  put  in  comparison  with  him. 


i  Lir.  1.  xxxiir.  n.  60.  Mbid.  n.  61. 

»  f.iv.  *xx».  n.  14.     Polvh.  l.iii.  p.  166,  Ifi". 

Pnlyhius  represents  this  application  of  Villru*  to  Hanni- 
bal, as  a  premeditated  design,  in  order  to  render  him  sus- 
pected to  Antiochus.  because  of  his  intimacy  with  a  Ro- 
man. Livy  owns,  that  the  affair  succeeded  as  if  it  had 
been  designed  ;  hut,  at  the  same  time,  he  gives,  far  a  very 
ibvioue  reason,  another  torn  to  this  conversation,  and  sayn. 
that  no  more  was  intended  by  it,  than  to  cound  Hannilml, 
ind  to  remove  any  fenrsor  apprehensions  he  might  be  under 
from  the  R<  mans. 

*  Lir.  1.  xixr.  n.  It.     Plutarch  in  vili  Flamio. 


The  answer,  as  told  by  Plutarch,5  is  less  witty,  and 
not  go  probable.  In  this  author,  Hannibal  givei 
Pyrrhus  the  first  place,  Scipio  the  second,  and  him 
se'lf  the  third. 

7  Hannibal,  sensible  of  the  coldness  with  which 
Antiochus  received  him,  ever  since  his  conferences 
with  Villius  or  Scipio  took  no  notice  of  it  for  some 
time,  and  seemed  insensible  of  it.  But  at  last  he 
thought  it  advisable  to  come  to  an  explanation  with 
the  king,  and  to  open  his  mind  freely  to  him.  The 
hatred,  says  he,  which  I  bear  to  the  Romans,  is  known  to 
the  whole  world.  I  bound  myself  to  it  by  an  oath  from 
my  most  tender  infancy.  It  is  thit  hatred  that  made  me 
draw  the  sword  against  Rome  during'  thirty-six  years. 
It  is  that,  which,  even  in  times  of  peace,  has  caused  me  to 
be  drivenfrom  my  native  country,  andforcedm  e  to  seek 
an  asylum  in  your  dominions.  For  ever  guided  andfir- 
ed  by  the  same  passion,  should  my  hopes  be  frustrated 
here,  I  will  fly  to  every  part  of  the  globe,  and  rouse  vp 
all  nations  against  the  Romans.  I  hate  thim,  and  will 
hale  them  eternally;  and  know  that  they  bear  me  no  Itsj 
animosity.  So  long  as  you  shall  continue  in  the  nsolu- 
tion  to  take  up  arms  against  them ,  you  may  rank  Han- 
nibal in  the  number  of  your  bestfriends.  But  if  other 
counsels  incline  you  to  peace,  I  declare  to  you  once  for 
all,  address  yourself  to  others  for  advice,  and  not  to 
me.  Such  a  speech,  which  came  from  his  heart,  and 
expressed  the  greatest  sinceritv,  struck  the  king,  and 
seemed  to  remove  all  his  suspicions;  so  that  he  now 
resolved  to  give  Hannibal  the  command  of  part  of  l;s« 
fleet. 

But  what  havoc  is  not  flattery  capable  of  making  in 
courts  and  in  the  minds  of  princes!"  Antiochus  was 
told ,  that  it  was  imprudent  in  him  to  put  so  much  confi- 
dence in  Hannibal,  an  exile,  a  Carthaginian,  whose 
fortune  or  genius  might  suggest  to  him,  in  one  day,  a 
thousand  different  projects:  that  besides,  this  very 
fame  which  Hannibal  had  acquired  in  war,  and 
which  he  considered  as  his  peculiar  inheritance,  wat 
too  great  for  a  man  whofought  only  under  the  ensignt 
of  another ;  that  none  but  the  king  ought  to  be  the  gen- 
eral and  conductor  of  the  war;  and  that  it  was  incum- 
bent on  him  to  draw  upon  himself  alone  the  eyes  and 
attention  of  all  men;  whereas,  should  Hannibal  be 
employed,  he  (aforeigner)  would  have  the  glory  of  all 
the  successes  ascribed  to  him. — .A'b  minds,  says  Li- 
vy,9 on  this  occasion,  are  more  susceptible  of  envy, 
than  those  whose  merit  is  below  their  birth  arid  digni- 
ty;  snch  persons  always  abhorring  virtue  and  worth 
in  others,  for  this  reason  alone,  because  they  are 
strange  and  foreign  to  themselves.  This  observation 
was  fully  verified  on  this  occasion.  Antiochus  had 
been^taken  on  his  weak  side;  a  low  and  sordid 
jealousv,  which  is  the  defect  and  characteristic  of 
little  minds,  extinguished  every  generous  sentiment 
in  that  monarch.  Hannibal  was  now  slighted  and  laid 
aside:  however,  he  was  greatlv  revenged  on  Antio- 
chus,  by  the  ill  success  this  prince  met  with;  and 
showed  how  unfortunate  that  king  is  whose  soul  i« 
accessible  to  envy,  and  his  ears  open  to  the  poisonouf 
insinuation  of  flatterers. 

In  a  council  held  some  time  after,'°to  which  Hanni- 
bal, for  form's  sake,  was  admitted,  he,  when  it  came 
to  his  turn  to  speak,  endeavoured  chiefly  to  prove, 
that  Philip  of  Macedon  ought,  on  any  terms,  to  be 
engaged  to  form  an  alliance  with  Antiochus,  which 
was  not  so  difficult  as  might  be  imagined.  With  rt- 
gard,  says  Hannibal,  to  the  operations  of  the  war,  1 
adhere  immovably  to  my  first  opinion;  and  had  my 
counsels  been  listened  to  before,  Tuscany  and  Liguria 
would  now  be  all  in  a  flame;  and  Hannibal  (a  name 
that  strikes  terror  into  the  Romans]  in  Italy  Though 
I  should  not  be  very  well  skilled  as  to  other  matters, 
yet  the  good  and  ill  success  I  have  met  vnth  must 
necessarily  have  taught  me  sufficiently  how  to  carry 
on  a  war  against  the  Romans.  I  have  nothing  note 


•  Plut.  in  Pyrrho.  p.  C87.  «  Liv.  lib.  xxxv.  n.  10. 

•  Liv.  1.  xxxv   n.  41,43. 

•  Nulla  inyeniatam   prona  ad  invidiam  sunt.  quam  lorum 
qui   »enu«  ac    fortuna:n  cuam    aniinis    non    Equant:    Clan 
virtutem  et  bonum  alienum  oderunt. 

10  Liv.  1.  xxxvi.  n.  7. 


118 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


inmypowei  but  to  give  y»i  my  counsel,  and  offer 
yor  my  service.  May  the  gods  give  success  to  all 
you* undertakings !  Hannibal's  speech  wai  received 
with  applause,  but  not  one  of  his  counsels  was  put  in 
execution. 

Antiochus,  imposed  upon  and  lulled  asleep  by  his 
flattf  rers,  remained  quittat  Ephesus,  after  the  Romans 
had  driven  him  out  of  Greece  ;'  not  once  imagining 
that  they  would  ever  invade  his  dominions.  Hanni- 
bal, who  was  now  restored  to  favour,  was  for  ever 
assuring  him,  that  the  war  would  soon  be  removed 
into  Asia,  and  that  he  would  soon  see  the  enemy  at 
his  gates  :  that  he  must  resolve,  either  to  abdicate  his 
throne,  or  oppose  vigorously  a  people  who  grasped 
at  the  empire  of  the  world.  This  discourse  awakened, 
in  some  little  measure,  the  king  out  of  his  lethargy, 
and  prompted  him  to  make  somr  weak  efiorts.  but, 
as  his  conduct  was  unsteady,  after  sustaining  a  great 
many  cc  isiderable  losses,  he  was  forced  to  terminate 
the  war  by  an  ignominious  peace  :  one  of  the  articles 
of  which  was,  that  he  should  deliver  up  Hannibal  to 
the  Romans.  However,  the  latter  did  not  give  him 
opportunity  to  put  it  in  execution,  but  retired  to  the 
island  of  Crete,  to  consider  there  what  course  it  would 
be  best  for  him  to  take. 

The  riches  he  had  brought  along  with  him,  of  which 
the  p*">ple  of  the  island  got  some  notice,  had  like 
to  have  proved  his  ruin.*  Hannibal  was  never  want- 
ing in  stratagems,  and  he  had  occasion  to  employ  them 
now,  to  save  both  himself  and  his  treasure.  He  filled 
several  vessels  with  molten  lead,  the  tops  of  which  he 
just  covered  over  with  gold  and  silver.  These  he  de- 
posited in  the  temple  of  Diana,  in  presence  of  several 
Cretans,  to  whose  honesty,  he  said,  he  confided  all  his 
treasure.  A  strong  guard  was  then  posted  round  the 
temple  and  Hannibal  left  at  full  liberty,  from  a  suppo- 
sition that  his  riches  were  secured.  But  he  had  con- 
cealed them  in  hollow  statues  of  brass,'  which  he  al- 
ways carried  along  with  him.  And 
A.M. 3820.  then,  embracing  a  favourable  oppor- 
A.  Rom.  564.  tunity  to  make  his  escape,  he  fled  to 
the  court  of  Prusias.kingof  Bithynia.* 
It  appears  from  history  that  he  made  some  stay  in 
the  court  of  this  prince,  who  soon  engaged  in  war  with 
Eumenes  king  of  Pergamus,  a  professed  friend  to  the 
Romans.  By  means  of  Hannibal,  the  troops  of  Pru- 
sias gained  several  victories  both  by  land  and  sea. 

He  employed  a  stratagem  of  an  extraordinary  kind 
in  a  sea-fight.*  As  the  enemy's  fleet  consisted  of  more 
ships  than  his,  he  had  recourse  to  artifice.  He  put  into 
earthen  vessels  all  kinds  of  serpents, and  ordered  these 
vesse  Is  to  be  thrown  into  the  enemy's  ships.  His  chief 
aim  was  to  destroy  Eumenes;  and  for  that  purpose  it 
was  necessary  for  him  to  find  out  what  ship  he  was  on 
board  of.  This  Hannibal  discovered  by  sending  out 
•  boat,  upon  pretence  of  conveying  a  letter  to  him. 
Having  gained  his  point  thus  far,  he  ordered  the  com- 
manders of  the  respective  vessels  to  direct  their  attack 
principally  against  Eumenes's  ship.  They  obeyed, 
and  wouiri  have  taken  it,  had  he  not  outsailed  his  pur- 
suers. The  rest  of  the  ships  of  Pergamus  sustained 
the  fight  with  great  vigour,  till  the  earthen  vessels  had 
been  thrown  into  them.  At  first  they  only  laughed  at 
tliis,  and  were  very  much  surprised  to  find  such  wea- 
pons employed  against  them.  But  when  they  saw 
themselves  surrounded  with  the  serpent?,  which  darted 
out  of  these  vessels  when  they  flew  to  pieces,  they  were 
seized  with  dread,  retired  in  disorder,  and  yielded  the 
victory  to  the  enemy. 

Services  of  so  important  n  nature 

A.M.  3822.    seemed  to  secure  for  ever  to  Hannibal 

A.  Rom.  566.    an  undisturbed  asylum  at  that  prince's 

court.*     However,  the  Romans  would 

not  suffer  him  to  be  easy  there,  but  deputed  Q.  Fla- 

miniusto  Pru*ias,  to  complain  of  the  protection  he  gave 

Hannibal.     The  latter  easily  guessed  the  motive  of 


i  Liv.  1.  xxxvi.  n.  41. 

»  Cornei.  N'pp.  in  Annib.  c.  0,  10.     Justin.  1.  xxxii.  c.  4. 
»  Tnrsp  statue"  were  thrown  out  by  him,  in  a  place   of 
pulilii-  resort. a*  thin?*  of  li'tle  value.     Corn.  Jftf. 

*  Cornei.  Nep.  in  Annib.  c.  10,  11.     Jutiin.  I.  xxxii.  c.  4. 
>  Justin.  I.  xxitii.  c.  4.    Cornel.  Nep.  in  vit.  Annib. 

•  Li».  1.  4x1  ix.  n.  51. 


this  embassy,  and  therefore  did  not  wait  till  his  ei«- 
rnies  had  an  opportunity  of  delivering  him  up.  A'  n'.st 
he  atttinpttd  to  secure  himstll  by  flight;  but  prrcciy- 
ing  that  the  seven  secret  outlets,  which  he  had  i.o\itrir« 
ed  in  his  palace,  were  all  seized  by  the  soldiers  ot  Prn- 
sias,who,by  perfidiously  betra\  ing  hisgu^-.i.was  de- 
sirous ol  making  his  court  to  the  Honanf;Lf  ordered 
the  poison,  which  he  had  long  kept  lor  tin-,  'rel?ncholy 
occasion,  to  be  brought  him :  and  taking  it  in  his  hanrj, 
Let  us,  says  he,  free  the  Romans  f rut  i  the  disquiet 
with  which  they  have  so  long  been  tortured,  since  they 
have  not  patience  to  wait  for  an  old  nun's  death.  Tht 
victory  which  Flnminius  gains  orer  a  man  disarmed 
and  betrayed,  will  not  do  him  much  honour.  This 
single  day  will  be  a  lasting  testimony  of  the  great  de- 
generacy (>f  the  Romans.  Their  fathers  sent  notict 
to  Pyrrhus,  to  desire  he  would  beware  of  a  traitor  who 
intended  to  poison  him,  and  that  at  a  time  when  thit 
prince  teas  at  war  with  tl.em  in  the  very  centre  of  It- 
aly; but  their  sons  have  deputed  a  person  rf  consular 
dignity  to  spirit  up  Prusias,  impiously  to  murder  ont 
who  is  not  only  his  friend  but  his  guest.  After  calling 
down  curses  upon  Prusias,  and  having  invoked  the 
gods,  the  protectors  and  avengers  of  the  sacred  right* 
of  hospitality,  he  swallowed  the  poison,7  and  died  at 
seventy  years  of  age. 

This  year  was  remarkable  for  the  death  of  three 
great  men,  Hannibal,  Philopoemen,  and  Scipio,  who 
had  this  in  common,  that  they  all  died  out  of  their  na- 
tive countries,  by  a  death  little  correspondent  to  the 
glory  of  their  actions.  The  two  first  died  by  poison: 
Hannibal  being  betrayed  by  his  host;  andFhilopoemea 
being  taken  prisoner  in  a  battle  against  the  Messeni- 
ans,  and  thrown  into  a  dungeon,  was  forced  to  swallow 
poison.  As  to  Scipio,  he  banished  himself,  to  avoid  an 
unjust  prosecution  which  was  carried  on  against  him 
at  "Rome,  and  ended  his  davs  in  a  kind  of  obscuritj. 

The  Character  and  Eulogivm  rf  Hannibal. 

This  would  be  the  proper  place  for  representing  the 
excellent  qualities  of  Hannibal,  who  reflected  so  much 
glory  on  Carthage.  But  as  I  have  attempted  to  draw 
his  character  elsewhere  .^nd  to  give  a  just  idfaofhim, 
by  making  a  comparison  between  him  and  Scipio,  I 
think  myself  dispensed  from  giving  his  eulogiuru  at 
large  in  this  place. 

Persons  who  devote  themselves  to  the  profession  of 
arms,  cannot  spend  too  much  time  in  the  study  of  this 
great  man,  who  is  looked  upon,  by  the  best  judges,  as 
the  most  complete  general,  in  almost  every  respect, 
that  ever  the  world  produced. 

During  the  whole  seventeen  years  that  the  war  last- 
ed, two  errors  only  are  objected  to  him:  First,  his  not 
marching,  immediately  after  the  battle  of  Cannte,  hi» 
victorious  army  to  Rome,  in  order  to  besiege  that  city: 
Secondly,  his  suffering  their  courage  to  be  softened 
and  enervated,  during  their  winter-quarters  in  Capua: 
errors,  which  only  show  that  great  men  are  not  so  in 
all  things;  summi  enim  snnt,  homines  tamen;3  and 
which,  perhaps,  may  be  partly  excused. 

But  then,  for  these  two  errors,  what  a  multitude  of 
shining  qualities  appears  in  Hannibal!  How  exten- 
sive were  his  views  and  designs,  even  in  his  most  ten- 
der years !  What  greatness  of  soul !  What  intrepidity ! 
What  presence  of  mind  must  he  have  possessed,  to  b« 
able,  even  in  the  fire  and  heat  of  action,  to  ttirn  every 
thing  to  advantage!  With  what  surprising  address 
must  he  have  managed  the  minds  of  men.  that,  amidst 
so  great  a  variety  of  nations  which  composed  his  army, 
who  often  were  in  want  both  of  money  and  provisions, 
his  camp  was  not  once  disturbed  with  any  insurrec- 
tion, either  against  himself  or  any  of  his  generals! 


'  Plutarch,  affording  to  his  custom,  assisns  him  three 
diffprent  drains.  Pom* .  (BITS  he,  rpliito.  thnt  havin?  wrap- 
|x-d  his  cloak  about  his  nprk.  hi*  ordcrp.1  his  servant  to  fix 
his  knpps  a?ainst  his  buttocks,  and  not  to  IPHVP  Iw  istins  till 
he  had  strangled  him.  Others  nay,  that,  in  imitation  of 
Themistoclps  and  Midas,  hp  drank  hull's  blood.  I.iry  tolli 
us,  thnt  Hannibal  drank  a  poison  which  hp  alwavs  carried 
about  him  ;  and  (akin?  thp  cup  into  his  hands,  cried,  Let  ** 
free.  &-C.  In  rila  FlaminiTi. 

•  Vol.  ii.  Of  the  method  of  Studying  and  Teaching  th« 
Bellei  Letlret.  •  Quinlil. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS 


119 


With  what  equity,  what  moderation,  must  he  have  be- 
haved towards  his  new  allies,  to  have  prevailed  so  tar 
as  to  attach  them  inviolably  to  his  service,  though  he 
was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  making  them  sustain 
almost  the  whole  burden  of  the  war,  by  quartering  his 
army  upon  them,  and  levying  contributions  in  their 
several  countries!  In  short,  how  fruitful  must  he  have 
been  in  expedients,  to  be  able  to  carry  on  for  so  man)' 
years,  a  war  in  a  remote  country,  in  spite  of  the  violent 
opposition  made  by  a  powerful  faction  at  home,  which 
refused  him  supplies  of  every  kind,  and  thwarted  him 
on  all  occasions!  It  may  be  affirmed, that  Hannibal, 
during  the  whole  series  of  this  war,  seemed  the  only 
prop  of  the  state,  and  the  soul  of  every  part  of  the  em- 
pire of  the  Carthaginians,  who  could  never  believe 
themselves  conquered  till  Hannibal  confessed  that  he 
himself  was  so. 

But  our  acquaintance  with  Hannibal  will  be  very 
imperfect,  if  we  consider  him  only  at  the  head  of  ar- 
mies. The  particulars  we  learn  from  history,  concern- 
ing the  secret  intelligence  he  held  with  Philip  of  Ma- 
redon;  the  wise  counsels  he  gave  to  Antiochus,  king 
•»f Syria;  the  double  reformation  he  introduced  in  Car- 
thage, with  regard  to  the  management  of  the  public 
revenues  and  the  administration  of  justice,  prove,  that 
he  was  a  great  statesman  in  every  respect.  So  supe- 
rior and  universal  was  his  genius,  that  it  took  in  all 
parts  of  government;  and  so  great  were  his  natural 
abilities,  that  he  was  capable  of  acquitting  himself  in 
all  the  various  functions  of  it  with  glory.  Hannibal 
•hone  as  conspicuously  in  the  cabinet  as  in  the  fic!d; 
equallr  able  to  fill  the  civil  as  the  military  employ- 
ments. In  a  word,  he  united  in  his  own  person  tfie 
different  talents  and  merits  of  all  professions,  the 
•word,  the  eown,  and  the  finances. 

He  had  some  learning;  and  though  he  was  so  much 
employed  in  military  labours,  and  engaged  in  so  many 
wars,  he,  however,  found  some  leisure  to  devote  to 
literature.1  Several  smart  repartees  of  Hannibal, 
which  have  been  transmitted  to  us,  show  that  he  had 
a  great  fund  of  natural  wit;  and  this  he  improved  by 
the  most  polite  education  that  could  be  bestowed  at 
that  time,  and  in  such  a  republic  as  Carthage.  He 
•poke  Greek  tolerably  well,  and  even  wrote  some 
books  in  that  language.  His  preceptor  was  a  Lace- 
dsemonian,  nainen  Sosilus,  who  with  Philenius,  an- 
other I,aced;enionian,  accompanied  him  in  all  his  ex- 
peditions. Both  these  undertook  to  write  the  history 
of  this  renowned  warrior. 

With  regard  to  his  religion  and  moral  conduct,  he 
was  not  altogether  so  profligate  and  wicked  as  he  is 
represented  by  Livy:«  "  cruel  fven  to  inhumanity, 
more  perfidious  than  a  Carthaginian;  regardless  of 
truth,  of  probity,  of  the  sacred  ties  of  oaths;  fearless  of 
the  gods.and  utterly  void  of  religion."  Inhumana  cru- 
dt lita.i, pe rfidium  plusqiuim  Punica;  nihil  veri,nihil 
tancti,  nidliis  defim  metus,  nullumjutfiirandum^milla 
religio.  Accordingto  Polybius, 3  he  rejected  a  barba- 
rous proposal  that  was  made  him  before  he  entered 
[talv,  which  was  to  eat  human  flesh,  at  a  time  when 
his  army  was  in  absolute  want  of  provisions.  Some 
years  after.  <  so  far  from  treating  with  barbarity,  as  he 
was  advised  to  do,  the  dead  body  of  Sempronius  Grac- 


i  At(]ue  hie  tantus  vir,  tantisque  bellii  diitrictu*.  non-ni- 
fcil  temporis  tribuit  litteris,  tc.  Corn,  Jt'ep.  in  titi  Jlni  it 
e«|i  13.  »  Lib.  »i.  n.  4. 

•  Exrerpt.  4  Polyb.  p.  33. 

«  Eicerpt.  e  Diod  j>  282.    LIT.  1.  «XT.  u.  17. 


chus,  which  Mago  had  sent  him ;  he  caused  his  funera. 
obsequies  to  be  solemnized  in  presence  of  the  whole 
army.  We  have  seen  him,  on  many  occasions,  evince 
the  highest  reverence  for  the  gods;  and  Justin,5  who 
copied  Trogus  Pompeius,  an  author  worthy  of  credit, 
observes,  that  he  always  showed  uncommon  modera- 
tion and  continence  with  regard  to  the  great  number 
of  women  taken  bv  him  during  the  course  of  so  long 
a  war;  insomuch  that  no  one  would  have  imagined 
he  had  been  born  in  Africa,  where  incontinence  is 
the  predominant  vice  of  the  country.  Pudicitiamque 
turn  taji/am  inter  tot  captitas  habuisne,  tit  in  Africa 
natnm  qnivis  negaret. 

His  disregard  of  wealth,  ata  time  when  he  had  so 
many  opportunities  to  enrich  himself  by  the  plunder 
ol  the  cities  he  stormed  and  the  nations  he  subdued, 
shows  that  he  knew  the  true  and  genuine  use  which  a 
general  ought  to  make  of  riches,  viz.  to  gain  the  affec- 
tion of  his  soldiers,  and  to  attach  his  allies  to  his  inter- 
est, by  diffusing  his  beneficence  on  proper  occasions, 
and  not  being  sparing  in  his  rewards:  a  quality  very 
essential,  and  at  the  same  time  as  uncommon  in  a 
commander.  The  only  use  Hannibal  madeol  money 
was  to  purchase  success;  linnh  persuaded,  that  a  man 
who  is  at  the  head  of  affairs  is  sufficiently  recompensed 
by  the  glory  derived  from  victory. 

He  always  led  a  very  regular,  austere  life;6 and  even 
in  times  of  peace,  and  in  the  midst  of  Carthage,  when 
he  was  invested  with  the  first  dignity  of  the  citv,  we 
are  told  that  he  never  used  to  recline  himself  on  a  bed 
at  meals,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  ages,  and  that  he 
drank  but  very  little  wine.  So  regular  and  uniform 
a  life  may  serve  as  an  illustrious  example  to  our  com- 
manders, who  often  include,  among  the  privileges  of 
war  and  the  duty  of  officers,  the  keeping  of  splendid 
tables,  and  living  luxuriously. 

I  do  not,  however,  pretend  altogether  to  exculpate 
Hannibal  from  all  the  errors  with  which  he  is  charged. 
Though  he  possessed  an  assemblage  of  the  most  ex- 
alted qualities,  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  he  had 
some  little  tincture  of  the  vices  of  his  country ;  and  that 
it  would  be  difficult  to  excuse  some  actions  and  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life.  Polybius  observes,7  that  Han- 
nibal was  accused  of  avarice  in  Carthage,  and  of 
cruelty  in  Rome.  He  adds,  on  the  same  occasion,  that 
people  were  very  much  divided  in  opinion  concerning 
him:  and  it  would  be  no  wonder,  as  he  had  made  him- 
self so  many  enemies  in  both  cities,  that  they  should 
have  drawn  him  in  disadvantageous  colours.  But  Po- 
lybius is  of  opinion,  that  though  it  should  be  taken  for 
granted,  that  all  the  defects  with  which  he  is  charged 
are  true ;  vet  that  they  were  not  so  much  owing  to  his 
nature  and  disposition,  as  to  the  difficulties  with  which 
he  was  surrounded,  in  the  course  of  so  long  and  la- 
borious a  war ;  and  to  the  complacency  he  was  obliged 
lo  show  to  the  general  officers,  whose  assistance  he 
absolutely  wanted,  for  the  execution  of  his  various  en- 
terprises; and  whom  he  was  not  always  able  to  restrain, 
any  more  than  he  could  the  soldiers  who  fought  under 
them. 


•  Lib.  xxxii.  e.  4. 

*  Cilii  pniionisque,  desiderio  natural!,  mm  voluptale,  mo- 
dus finituu.     Lie.  I.  xxi.  n.4. 

Constat  Annibaiem.  nee  turn  cum  Romano  tonnntem 
bello  Italia  eomremuit.  nee  cum  reversu*  Curlhaginem  sum- 
mum  imperium  tenuit,  aut  cubantem  coBnasse,  aut  plot 
quam  wxiariu  vnii  induliinse.  Justin.  '.  xsxii.  c.  4. 

'  Excerpt,  d  1'ulvb.  p.  34,  37. 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


BOOK  II. 


PART   II 

SECTION    II.— DISSENTIONS   BETWEEN  THE    CAR- 
THAGINIANS AND  MASINISSA,  KING  OF  KUMIDIA. 

AMOJVG  the  conditions  of  the  peace  granted  to 
the  Carthaginians,  there  was  one  which  enacted,  that 
they  should  restore  to  Masinissa  all  the  territories  and 
cities  he  possessed  before  the  war;  and  farther,  Sci- 
pio,  to  reward  the  zeal  and  fidelity  which  that  monarch 
had  shown  towards  the  Romans,  had  added  to  his 
dominions  those  of  Syphax.  This  present  afterwards 
gave  rise  to  disputes  and  quarrels  between  the  Car- 
thaginians and  JVumidians. 

These  two  princes,  Syphax  and  Masinissa,  were 
both  kings  in  Niimidia,  but  reigned  over  different 
nations.  The  subjects  of  Syphax  were  called  Ma- 
saesuli,  and  their  capital  was  Cirtha.  Those  of  Ma- 
sinissa were  the  Massy li:  but  they  are  better  known 
by  the  name  of  Numidians,  which  was  common  to 
them  both.  Their  principal  strength  consisted  in 
their  cavalry.  They  alwavs  rode  without  saddles, 
and  some  even  without  bridles,  whence  Virgil  calls 
them  NumidcE  infrctni.1 

In  the  beginning  of  the  second  Punic  war,*  Syphax 
siding  with  the  Romans,  Gala,  the  father  of  Masinissa, 
to  check  the  career  of  so  powerful,a  neighbour,  thought 
it  his  interest  to  join  the  Carthaginians,  and  accord- 
ingly sent  out  against  Syphax  a  powerful  army  under 
the  conduct  of  his  son,  at  that  time  but  seventeen  years 
of  age.  Syphax  being  overcome  in  a  battle,  in  which 
it  is  said  he  lost  30,000  men, escaped  into  Mauritania. 

However,  the  face  of  things  was  afterwards  greatly 
'  e  o         j 

changed. 

Masinissa,  after  his  father's  death,  was  often  reduced 
to  the  brink  of  ruin  ;3  being  driven  from  his  kingdom 
by  a  usurper;  pursued  warmly  by  Syphax;  in  danger 
every  instant  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies; 
destitute  of  forces,  money,  and  of  every  resource. 

He  was  at  that  time  in  alliance  with  the  Romans,  and 
the  friend  of  Scipio,  with  whom  he  had  had  an  inter- 
view in  Spain.  His  misfortunes  would  not  permit 
him  to  bring  great  succours  to  that  general.  When 
Laelius  arrived  in  Africa,  Masinissa  joined  him  with 
a  few  horse, and  from  that  time  continued  inviolably 
attached  to  the  Roman  interest.  Syphax,  on  the  con- 
trary, having' married  the  famous  Sophonisba.daugh- 
tct  of  Asdrubal,  went  over  to  the  Carthaginians.* 

The  fate  of  these  two  princes  again  changed,  but 
ne  change  was  not  final.5  Syphax  lost  a  great  battle, 
and  was  taken  alive  by  the' enemy.  Masinissa,  the 
victor,  besieged  Cirtha,  his  capjtal.'and  took  it.  But 
he  met  with  a  greater  danger  in  that  city  than  he  had 
faced  in  the  field;  and  this  was  Sophonisba,  whose 
charms  and  endearments  he  was  unable  to  resist.  To 
secure  this  princess  to  himself,  he  married  her;  but  a 
few  days  after,  he  was  obliged  to  send  her  a  dose  of 
poison,  as  her  nuptial  present;  this  being  the  only 
way  he  could  devise  to  keep  his  promise  with  his  queen, 
*nd  preserve  her  from  the  power  of  the  Romans. 


1  JF,n  1.  iv.  ver.  41. 
»  Id  I  xxix.  n.  29—34. 
•  Id.  1.  xxx.  n.  11,  12. 


»  T,iv.  1.  TIIV.  n.  48,  49. 
«  Id.  1.  xxix.  n.  23. 


This  was  a  considerable  error  in  itself,  and  (,ne  that 
could  not  fail  to  disoblige  a  nation  that  was  so  jealous 
of  its  authority:  but  this  young  prince  gloriously  maue 
amends  for  his  fault,  by  the  signal  services  he  after- 
wards rendered  to  Scipio.  We  observed,  that  after 
the  defeat  and  capture  of  Syphax,  the  dominions  of 
this  prince  were  bestowed  upon  him;  and  that  the 
Carthaginians  were  forced  to  restore  all  he  possessed 
before.6  This  gave  rise  to  the  divisions  which  wear* 
now  going  to  relate. 

A  territory  situated  towards  the  sea-side,  near  the 
lesser  Syrtis,  was  the  subject  of  the  dispute.7  The 
country  was  very  rich,  andthe  soil  extremely  fruitful ; 
a  proof  of  which"  is,  that  the  city  of  Leptis  alone,  which 
belonged  to  that  territory,  paid  daily  a  talent  to  the 
Carthaginians  by  way  of  tribute.  Masinissa  had 
seized  part  of  this  territory.  Each  side  despatched 
deputies  to  Rome.Uo  plead  the  cause  of  then  respec- 
tive superiors  before  the  senate.  Thisassembly  thought 
proper  to  send  Scipio  Africanus,  with  two  other  com- 
missioners, to  examine  the  controversy  upon  the  spot 
However,  they  returned  without  coming  to  any  deci- 
sion, and  left  the  business  in  the  same  uncertain  state 
in  which  they  had  found  it.  Possibly  they  acted  in 
this  manner  bv  order  of  the  senate,  and  hail  received 
private  instructions  to  favour  Mas!  nissa,  who  was  then 
possessed  of  the  district  in  question. 

Ten  years  after,8  new  commission- 
ers  having  been  appointed  to  examine      A.  M.  3B23. 
the  same  affair,  they  acted  as  the  form-     A.  Rom.  567. 
er  had  done,  and  left  the  whole  unde- 
termined. 

After  the  like  distance  of  time,  the 
Carthaginians  again  brought  their  A.  M.  3833. 
complaint  before  the  senate,  but  with  A.  Rom.  577. 
greater  importunity  than  before.9 
They  represented,  that  besides  the  lands  at  first  con- 
tested, Masinissa  had,  during  the  two  precedingyears, 
dispossessed  them  of  upwards  of  seventy  towns  and 
castles;  their  hands  were  bound  upb}'  that  article. ol 
the  last  treatv,  which  forbade  their  making  war  upon 
any  of  the  allies  of  the  Romans:  that  they  could  no 
longer  bear  the  insolence,  the  avarice,  and  cruelty,  of 
that  prince :  that  they  were  deputed  to  Rome  with  three 
requests  (one  ofwhich  they  desired  might  be  immedi- 
ately complied  \v\tk}, viz.  either  that  the  affair  might 
be  examined  and  decided  by  the  senate;  or, secondly, 
that  they  might  be  permitted  to  repe.!  force  by  force, 
and  defend  themselves  bv  arms  ;  or,  hstly,  that,  if 
favour  was  to  prevail  over  justice,  they  then  fntrrated 
the  Romans  to  specify,  once  for  all,  which  of  the  Car- 
thaginian lands  they  were  desirous  should  be  given 
up  to  Masinissa,  that  they,  by  this  means,  might  here- 
after know  what  they  had  to  depend  on;  and  that  the 
Roman  people  would  show  some  moderation  in  their 
bf  half,  at  a  time  that  this  prince  set  no  other  bounds 
to  his  pretensions,  than  his  insatiable  avarice.  The 
deputies  concluded  with  beseeching  the  Roman?,  that 
if  they  had  any  cause  of  complaint  against  the  Car- 
thaginians since  the  conclusion  of  the  last  peare,  that 
they  themselves  would  punish  them;  and  not  to  gi''« 


«  T,iv.  1.  xxx.  n.  44. 
•  Id.  1.  xl.  n.  47. 


'  Id.  xxxiv.  n.  f>2. 

•  Id.  xlii.n.  23.  21. 

120 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


them  up  to  the  wild  caprice  of  a  prince,  by  whom  their 
liberties  were  made  precarious,  and  their  lives  insup- 
portable. After  ending  their  speech,  being  pierced 
with  grief,  shedding  floods  of  tears,  they  fell  prostrate 
upon  the  earth;  a  spectacle  that  moved  all  who  were 
present  to  compassion,  and  raised  a  violent  hatred 
against  Masinissa.  Guinea,  his  son,  who  was  then 
present.being  asked  what  he  had  to  reply, heanswered, 
that  his  father  had  not  given  him  any  'cstructions,  not 
knowing  that  any  thing  would  be  laid  U-  his  charge. 
He  only  desired  the  senate  to  rerlect,  that  the  circum- 
stances ivhich  drew  all  this  hatred  upon  him  from  the 
Carthaginians,  was,  the  inviolable  fidelity  with  which 
he  had  always  been  attached  to  the  side  of  the  Ro- 
mans. The  senate,  after  hearing  both  sides,  answered, 
that  they  were  inclined  to  do  justice  to  either  party  to 
whom  it  might  be  due:  that  Gulussa  should  set  out 
immediately  with  their  orders  to  his  father,  who  was 
thereby  commanded  to  send  immediately  deputies 
with  those  of  Carthage:  that  they  would  do  all  that 
lay  in  their  power  to  serve  him, but  not  to  the  preju- 
dice of  the  Carthaginians:  that  it  was  but  just  the 
ancient  limits  should  .je  preserved ;  and  that  it  was 
far  from  being  the  intention  of  the  Romans,  to  have 
the  Carthaginians  dispossessed,  during  the  peace,  of 
those  territories  and  cities  which  had  been  left  them 
b\  the  treat  v.  The  deputies  of  both  powers  were  then 
dismissed  w.-it'n  the  usual  presents. 

But  all  these  assurances  were  but  mere  words.1  It 
is  plain  that  the  Romans  did  not  once  endeavour  to 
satisfy  the  Carthaginians,  or  do  them  the  least  jus- 
tice: and  that  they  protracted  the  business,  on  purpose 
to  give  Masinissa  time  to  establish  himseli  in  his 
usurpation,  and  weaken  his  enemies. 

A  new  deputation  was  sent  to  ex- 
A.  M.  3848.  aniine  the  affair  upon  the  spot,  and 
A.  Rom.  582.  Cato  was  one  of  the  commissioners.* 
On  their  arrival,  they  asked  the  par- 
ties if  they  were  willing  to  abide  by  their  determina- 
tion. Masinissa  readily  complied.  The  Carthagini- 
ans answered  that  they  had  fixed  a  rule  to  unich 
they  adhered,  and  that  this  was  the  treaty  which  had 
been  concluded  by  Scipio,  and  desired  that  their  cause 
might  be  examined  with  all  possible  rigour.  They 
therefore  could  not  come  to  any  decision.  The  depu- 
ties visited  all  the  country,  and  found  it  in  a  very  good 
condition,  especially  the  city  of  Carthage;  and  ^bo- 
were  surprised  to  see  it,  after  having  been  involved  in 
such  a  calamity,  so  soon  again  raised  to  so  exalted  a 
pitch  of  power  and  grandeur.  The  deputies,  on  their 
return,  did  not  fail  to  acquaint  the  senate  with  this 
circumstance;  and  declared,  Rome  could  never  be  in 
safety,  so  long  as  Carthage  should  subsist.  From  this 
time,  whatever  atTair  was  debated  in  the  senate,  Cato 
always  a:lded  the  following  words  to  his  opinion,  and 
I  conclude  thai  Carthage  ought  to  be  destroyed.  This 
grave  senatordid  not  give  himself  the  trouble  to  prove, 
that  bare  jealousy  of  the  growing  power  of  a  neigh- 
bouring'state,  is  a  warrant  sufficient  for  destroying  a 
city,  contrary  to  the  faith  of  treaties.  Scipio  Nasica, 
on  the  other  hand,  wag  of  opinion,  that  the  ruin  of 
this  uty  would  draw  after  it  that  of  their  common- 
wealth :  because  that  the  Romans  having  then  no  ri- 
val to  fear,  would  quit  the  ancient  severity  of  their 
t  manners  and  abandon  themselves  to  luxury  and  plea- 
sures, the  never-failing  subverters  of  the  most  flou- 
rishing empire. 

In  the  mean  time,  divisions  broke  out  in  Carthage.* 
The  popular  faction,  being  now  become  superior  to 
that  of  the  grandees  and  senators,  sent  forty  citizens 
int;  banishment:  and  bound  the  people  bv  an  oath, 
never  to  sutler  the  least  mention  to  be  made  of  re- 
calling those  exiles.  They  withdrew  to  the  court  of 
Masimsjii,  who  despatched  Gulussa  and  Micipsa,  his 
two  sons,  to  Carthage,  to  solicit  their  recall.  How- 
ever the  gates  of  the  city  were  shut  against  them, 
and  one  of  them  was  closely  pursued  by  Hamilcar, 
one  of  the  generals  of  the  republic.  This  gave  occa- 
sion to  a  new  war,  and  accordingly  nrnm s  w«  re  levied 
on  both  sides.  A  battle  was  fought;  and  the  young- 
er Scipi.i,  who  afterwards  ruined  Carthage,  wasspec- 


•  Pnlyb  p.  P51.     •  App.  de  bell.  Pun.  p.  37.     •  App.  p.  3a 
VOL.  1—16. 


tator  of  it.  He  had  been  sent  from  Lucnllus,  who 
was  then  carrying  on  war  in  Spain,  and  under  whom 
Scipio  then  served,  to  Masinissa,  to  desire  some  ele- 
phants from  that  monarch.  During  the  whole  en- 
gagement, he  stood  upon  a  neighbouring  hill;  and 
was  surprised  to  see  Masinissa,  then  upwards  of 
eighty  years  of  age,  mounted  (agreeably  to  the  cus- 
tom of  his  country)  on  a  horse  without  a  saddle; 
flying  from  rank  to  rank  like  a  young  officer,  and  sus- 
taining the  most  arduous  toils.  The  fight  was  very 
obstinate,  and  continued  from  morning  till  night,  but 
at  last  the  Carthaginians  gave  way.  Scipio  used  to 
say  afurwards,  that  he  had  been  present  at  many 
battles,  but  at  none  with  so  much  pleasure  as  at  this; 
having  never  before  beheld  so  formidable  an  army  tn- 
gage,  without  any  danger  or  trouble  to  himself.  And 
bung  very  conversant  in  the  writings  of  Homer,  he 
added,  that,  till  his  time,  there  wire  but  two  more 
who  had  had  the  pleasure  of  being  spectators  of 
such  an  action,  viz.  Jupiter  from  mount  Ida,  and 
Neptune  from  Samothrace,  when  the  Grteks  and 
Trojans  fought  before  Troy.  I  know  not  whether 
the  sight  of  100,000  men  (lor  so  many  there  were) 
butcheringone  another, can administera  real  pleasure; 
or  whether  such  a  pleasure  is  consistent  with  the 
sent'nients  of  humanity,  so  natural  to  mankind. 

The  Carthaginians,4  after  the  battle  was  over,  en- 
treated Scipio  to  terminate  their  contests  with  Ma- 
sinissa. Accordingly,  he  heard  both  parties,  and  the 
Carthaginians  consented  to  yield  up  the  territory  of 
Kmporium,5  which  had  been  the  nrst  cause  of  the 
dispute,  to  pay  Masinissa  200  talents  of  silver  down, 
and  800  more,  at  such  times  as  should  be  agreed. 
But  Masinissa  insisting  on  the  return  of  the  exiles, 
and  the  Carthaginians  being  unwilling  to  agree  to 
this  proposition,  they  did  not  come  to  any  decision. 
Scipio,  after  having  paid  his  compliments,  and  return- 
ed thanks  to  Masinissa,  set  out  with  the  elephant* 
for  which  he  had  been  sent. 

The  king,6  immediately  after  the  battle  was  over, 
had  blocked  up  the  enemy's  camp,  which  was  pitch- 
ed upon  a  hill,  whither  neither  troops  nor  provisions 
could  come  to  them.  During  this  interval,  there  ar- 
rived deputies  from  Rome,  with  orders  from  the  senate 
to  decide  the  quarrel,  in  case  the  king  should  be  de- 
feated;  otherwise,  to  leave  it  undetermined,  and  to 
give  the  king  the  strongest  assurances  of  the  con- 
tinuation of  their  friendship;  and  they  complied  with 
the  latter  injunction.  In  the  mean  time,  the  famine 
daily  increased  in  the  enemy's  camp;  and  to  add  to 
their  calamity,  it  was  followed  by  a  plague,  which 
made  dreadful  havoc.  Being  now  reduced  to  the  last 
extremity,  they  surrendered  to  Masinissa,  promising 
to  deliver  up  the  deserters,  to  pay  him  5000  talents 
of  silver  in  fifty  years,  and  restore  the  exiles,  not- 
withstanding their  oaths  to  the  contrary.  They  all 
submitted  to  the  ignominious  ceremony  of  passing 
under  the  yoke,"  and  were  dismissed,  with  only  one 
suit  of  clotnes  for  each.  Gulussa,  to  satiate  his  ven- 
geance for  the  ill  treatment,  which,  as  we  before  ob- 
served, he  had  met  with, sent  out  against  them  a  body 
of  cavalry,  whom,  from  their  great  weakness,  they 
could  neither  escape  nor  resist.  So  that  of  53,000 
men,  very  few  returned  to  Carthage. 
The  third  Ptmic  War. 

The  third  Punic  War,  which  was 
less  considerable  than  either  of  the     A.  M.  3855. 


«  App.  de  bell.  Pun.  40. 

•  Einjiorium,  or  Emporia,  wag  a  country  of  Africa,  oa 
the  LeMvr  Syrtis,  in  which  Leptis  stood.  "N'o  part  of  the 
Carthaginian  dominions  was  more  fruitful  than  this.  Po- 
lykius.  I  i.  tays  that  ihe  revenue  that  arose  from  thin  place 
was  go  considerable,  that  all  their  hopes  were  almost  found- 
ed on  it,  i»  *a  ^p«i.  their  revenues  from  Emporia)  n"x»»  T»J 
riijirrxi  i».*.j»{.  To  this  was  owins  their  care  and 
state-jealousy  above  mentioned,  lest  the  Romans  should 
sail  beyond  the  Fair  Promontory,  that  lay  before  Carthape, 
and  become  acquainted  with  a  country  which  might  induce 
them  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  it. 

«  Appian.de.  hell.  Pun    p.  40. 

'  /i*/ieren<  tout  pmtte*  tons  lejwf:  Sub  jug-urn  miia 
a  kind  of  gallow*  (made  by  two  forked  stic!;«,  standing  up- 
right) was  erected,  and  a  spear  laid  acroM,  unoer  vhich 
vanquished  enemies  were  obliged  to  pass,  fittut 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


A.  G?  -th.  697.  two  former,  with  regard  to  the  nuru- 
A.  Rom.  599.  ber  and  greatness  of  the  battles,  and 
Ant.J.  C.  149.  i:s  continuance,  which  was  only  four 
years,  was  still  more  remarkable  with 
respect  to  the  success  and  event  of  it,  as  it  ended  in 
the  total  ruin  and  destruction  of  Carthage. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  city,1  from  their  last  defeat, 
knew  what  they  had  to  fear  from  the  Romans,  who 
had  uniformly  displayed  great  ill  will  towards  them, 
as  often  as  they  had  addressed  them  upon  their  dis- 
putes with  Masiuissa.  To  prevent  the  consequences 
of  it,  the  Carthaginians  by  a  decree  of  the  senate, 
impeached  Asdrubal,  general  of  the  army,  and  Car- 
thalo,  commander  of  the  auxiliary  forces,*  as  guilty 
of  high  treason,  for  being  the  authors  of  the  .war 
against  the  king  of  Numidia.  They  then  sent  a  de- 
putation to  Rome,  to  inquire  what  opinion  that  re 
public  entertained  of  their  late  proceedings,  and  what 
was  desired  of  them.  The  deputies  were  coldly 
answered,  that  it  was  the  business  of  the  senate  and 
people  of  Carthage  to  know  what  satisfaction  was  due 
to  the  Romans.  A  second  deputation  bringing  them 
no  clearer  answer,  they  fell  into  the  greatest  dejec- 
tion; and  being  seized  with  the  strongest  terrors,  from 
the  recollection  of  their  past  sufferings,  they  fancied 
the  enemy  was  already  at  their  gates,  and  imagined 
to  themselves  all  the  dismal  consequences  of  a  long 
siege,  and  of  a  city  taken  sword  in  hand. 

In  the  mean  time,3  the  senate  debated  at  Rome,  on 
the  measures  it  would  be  proper  for  them  to  take; 
and  the  disputes  between  Cato  ihe  elder  and  Scipio 
Nasica,  who  entertained  totally  different  opinions  on 
this  subject,  were  renewed.  The  former,  on  his  re- 
turn from  Africa,  had  declared,  in  the  strongest  terms, 
that  he  had  found  in  Carthage,  not  as  the  Romans  sup- 
posed it  to  be,  exhausted  of  men  or  money,  or  in  a 
weak  and  humble  state;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  it 
was  crowded  with  vigorous  young  men,  abounded  with 
immense  quantities  of  gold  and  silver,  and  prodigious 
magazines  of  arms  and  all  war-stores;  and  was  so 
haughty  and  confident  on  account  of  this  force,  that 
their  hopes  and  ambition  had  no  bounds.  It  is  far- 
ther said,  that,  after  he  had  ended  his  speech,  he 
threw,  out  of  the  lappet  of  his  robe,  in  the  midst  of  the 
senate,  some  African  figs;  and,  as  the  senators  ad- 
mired their  beauty  and  size.  Know,  says  he,  that  it  is 
but  tht'tedfii'i  since  thetefigs  were  gathered,  Suchis 
the  distance  between  the  enemy  and  us*. 

Cato  and  Nasica  had  each  of  them  their  reasons 
for  voting  as  they  dicl.5  .Nasica,  observing  that  the 
people  had  risen  to  such  a  height  of  insolence,  as  led 
them  into  excesses  of  every  kind;  that  their  prosper- 
ity had  swelled  them  with  a  pride  which  the  senate 
itself  was  not  able  to  check  ;  and  that  their  power 
was  become  so  enormous,  that  they  were  able  to  draw 
the  city,  by  force,  into  every  mad  design  they  might 
undertake:  Nasica,  I  say,  observing  this,  was  desi- 
rous that  they  should  continue  in  fear  of  Carthage, 
in  order  that  this  might  serve  as  a  curb  to  restrain 
and  check  their  audacious  conduct.  For  it  was  his 
opinion,  that  the  Carthaginians  were  too  weak  to 
subdue  the  Romans;  and  at  the  same  time  too  strong 
to  be.  considered  by  them  in  a  contemptible  light. 
With  regard  to  Cato,  he  thought  that  as  his  country- 
men had  become  haughty  and  insolent  by  success, 
and  plunged  headlong  into  profligacy  of  every  kind; 
nothing  could  be  more  dangerous,  than  for  them  to 
have  for  a  rival  and  an  enemv,  a  city  that  till  now 
had  been  powerful,  but  was  become,  even  by  its  mis- 
fortunes, more  wise  and  provident  than  ever;  and 
not  to  remove  the  fears  of  the  inhabitants  entirely 
with  regard  to  a  foreign  power;  since  they  had, 
within  their  own  walls,  all  the  opportunities  of  in- 
dulging themselves  in  excesses  of  every  kind. 

To  lay  aside,  for  one  instant,  the  laws  of  equity,  I 
leave  the  reader  to  determine  which  of  these  two  great 
men  reasoned  most  justly,  according  to  the  maxims 

«  Appian.  p.  41,  42. 

»  The  "breiyn  forces  were  commanded  by  leaden  of  their 
ros  tpctivir  nations,  who  were  all  under  the  command  of  a 
Caithnginian  officer.  called  by  Appian,  Befciitpx.,. 

•  Plut.  ibid  in.  rita  Cat. 


. 

•  Plui.  in  vita  Cat.  p.  352. 
«  P'.in.  1.  xv.  c.  18. 


of  sound  policy,  and  the  true  interests  of  a  Mate. 
One  undoubted  circumstance  is,  that  all  the  histori- 
ans h«; .'  observed  that  there  was  a  sensible  change 
in  the  conduct  and  government  of  the  Romans,  im- 
mediately after  the  ruin  of  Carthage:6  that  vice  no 
longer  made  its  way  into  Rome  with  a  timorous  pace, 
and  as  it  were  by  stealth,  but  appeared  bare-faced, 
and  seized,  with  astonishing  rapidity,  upon  all  order* 
of  the  republic:  that  the  senators,  plebeians,  in  a 
word,  all  conditions, abandoned  themselves  to  luxury 
and  voluptuousness  without  moderation  or  sense  of 
decency;  which  occasioned,  as  it  must  necessarily, 
the  ruin  of  the  state.  The  first  Scipio,  sa\  s  Fatercu- 
lus,7  speaking  of  the  Romans,  had  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  their  future  grandeur;  and  the  last,  by  hiscon- 
quesis,  opened  a  door  to  all  manner  of  luxury  and  disso- 
luteness. For,  after  Carthage,  which  obliged  Rome  to 
stand  for  ever  on  its  guard,  by  disputing  empire  with 
that  city,  had  been  totally  destroyed,  the  depravity  of 
manners  was  no  longer  slow  in  its  progress,  but  swell- 
ed at  once  into  the  utmost  excess  of  corruption. 

Be  this  as  it  may,8  the  senate  resolved  to  declare 
war  against  the  Carthaginians;  and  the  reasons  or 
pretences  urged  for  it  were,  their  having  maintained 
ships  contrary  to  the  tenor  of  the  treaty  ;  their  having 
sent  an  army  out  of  their  territories,  against  a  prince 
who  was  in  alliance  with  Rome,  and  whose  son  they 
had  treated  ill  at  the  time  that  he  was  accompanied 
by  a  Roman  ambassador. 

An  event,9  that  chance  occasioned 
to  happen  very  fortunately,  at  the  A.  M.  3856. 
time  that  the  senate  of  Rome  was  A.  Rom.  600. 
debating  on  the  atl'air  of  Carthage, 
doubtless  contributed  very  much  to  make  them  take 
that  resolution.  This  was  the  arrival  of  deputies 
from  Utica,  who  came  to  surrender  up  themselves, 
theireflects, their  lands,  and  their  city,  into  th  hands 
of  the  Romans.  Nothing  could  have  happened  more 
seasonably.  Utira  was  the  second  city  of  Africa, 
vastly  rich,  and  had  a  port  equally  spacious  and  com- 
modious; it  stood  within  sixty  furlongs  of  Cartilage, 
so  that  it  might  serve  as  a  place  of  arms  in  the  at- 
tack of  that  city.  The  Romans  now  hesitated  no 
longer,  but  formally  proclaimed  war.  M.  Man  lius, 
and  L.  Marcius  Censorinus,  the  two  consuls,  were 
desired  to  set  out  as  soon  as  possible.  They  had  se- 
cret orders  from  the  senate,  not  to  end  the  war  but 
by  the  destruction  of  Carthage.  The  consuls  imme- 
diately left  Rome,  and  stopped  at  Lilyba-um  in  Sicily. 
They  had  a  considerable  fleet,  on  board  of  which  were 
80,000  foot  and  about  4000  horse. 

The  Carthaginians  were  not  yet  acquainted  with 
the  resolutions  which  had  been  taken  at  Rome.14 
The  answer  brought  back  by  their  deputies,  had  only 
increased  their  fears,  viz.  It  was  ihe  business  of  the 
Carthaginians  to  consider  what  satisfaction  u:»s  due  to 
them.11  This  made  them  not  know  what  course  to 
take.  At  last  they  sent  new  deputies,  whom  they 
invested  with  full  powers  to  act  as  they  should  see 
fitting  ;  and  even  (what  the  former  wars  could  never 
make  them  stoop  to)  to  declare,  that  the  Carthagini- 
ans gave  up  themselves,  and  all  they  possessed,  to 
the  will  and  pleasure  of  the  Romans.  This,  accord- 
ing to  the  import  of  the  clause,  se  suaque  eorvm  nr6j- 
trio  pennittere,  was  submitting  themselves,  without 
reserve,  to  the  power  of  the  Romans,  and  acknow- 
ledging themselves  their  vassals.  Nevertheless,  thej 
did  not  expect  any  great  success  from  this  condescen- 
sion, though  so  very  mortifying ;  because,  as  th« 


•  Uhi  Carthago,  temula  imperil  Roman!  uh  stirpc  in- 
teriit,  fortuna  gtcvire  ac  miscere  omnia  ccepit.  Sal/u.-it  in 
bell.  Catilin. 

Ante  Carlhaginem  deletam  populus  et  senatus  Romanuft 
plar.ide  modesteque  inter  se  Kemp.  IractaLant.— Metui 
hoKtilis  in  bonis  artibus  civitatem  retintbat.  Se«l  ubi  for- 
mido  ilia  mentibus  deeessit.  ilicet  ea,  que  secunilsc  rei 
amunt,  lascivia  atque  luperbia  incesseru.  Idem  in  hello 
Jvgtirthino. 

i  Potential  Romanorum  prior  Scipio  vinm  upi'rur rat, 
luxuriee  posterior  apernit.  Quippe  remolo  t'arllm<.'ini« 
metu,  sublataque  imperii  temula,  non  pradu.  sed  |>ra>oi|nt| 
cursu  a  virtute  deKcitum,  ad  vitia  transcursum.  fel.  fa- 
tere.  I.  ii.c.  I.  •  A  pp.  p  42.  *  A  pp.  p.  4-2. 

«•  Polyb.  excerpt.  legal,  p.  972.  »  To  the  Uuniant. 


Hlfe  TORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


123 


(Jticans  had  been  beforehand  with  them  on  that  occa- 
sion,  tliis  circumstance  had  deprived  them  of  the  merit 
of  a  ready  and  voluntary  submission. 

The  deputies  on  their  arrival  at  Rome,  were  in- 
formed that  war  had  been  proclaimed,  and  that  the 
annv  was  get  out.  The  Romans  had  despatched  a 
courier  to  Carthage,  with  the  decree  of  the  senate  ; 
and  to  inform  that  city,  that  the  Roman  fleet  had 
tailed.  The  deputies  had  therefore  no  time  for  de- 
liberation, but  delivered  up  themselves,  and  all  they 
possessed,  to  the  Romans.  In  consequence  of  this 
behaviour,  they  were  answered,  that  since  they  had 
at  last  taken  a  right  step,  the  senate  granted  them 
their  liberty,  the  enjoyment  of  their  laws,  and  all  their 
territories,  and  other  possessions,  whether  public  or 
private,  provided  that,  within  the  space  of  thirty  days, 
they  should  send  as  hostages,  to  Lily  baeum,  300  young 
Carthaginians  of  the  first  distinction,  and  comply  with 
the  orders  of  the  consuls.  This  last  condition  filled 
them  with  inexpressible  anxiety  ;  but  the  concern  they 
were  under  would  not  allow  them  to  make  the  least 
reply,  or  to  demand  an  explanation  ;  nor  indeed  would 
•t  have  been  to  any  purpose.  They  therefore  set  out 
for  Carthage,  and  there  gave  an  account  of  their  em- 
bassy. 

All  the  articles  of  the  treaty  were  extremely  severe 
with  regard  to  the  Carthaginians  ;'  but  the  silence  of 
the  Romans,  with  respect  to  the  cities  of  which  no 
notice  was  taken  in  the  concessions  which  that  people 
was  willing  to  make,  perplexed  them  exceedingly. 
But  all  they  had  to  do  was  to  obey.  After  the  many 
former  and  recent  losses  which  the  Carthaginians  had 
sustained,  they  were  by  no  means  in  a  condition  to 
resist  such  an  enemy,  since  they  had  not  been  able  to 
oppose  Masinissa.  Troops,  provisions,  ships,  allies, 
in  a  word,  every  thing  was  wanting,  and  hope  aud 
vigour  more  than  all  the  rest. 

They  did  not  think  it  proper  to  wait  till  the  thirty 
day*,  which  had  been  allowed  them,  were  expired, 
but  immediately  sent  their  hostages,  in  hopes  of  soft- 
ening the  enemv  bv  the  readiness  of  their  obedience, 
though  they  dared  not  flatter  themselves  with  the  et- 

ctation  of   meeting  with   favour  on  this  occasion. 


ffi 


hese  hostages  were  the  flower,  and  the  only  hopes, 
•f  the  noblest  families  of  Carthage.  Never  was  any 
ipeclarl*  more  moving;  nothing  was  now  heard  ')ut 
tries,  nothing  seen  but  tears,  and  all  places  echoed 
with  groans  and  lamentations.  But  above  all,  the 
lisconsolate  mothers,  bathed  in  tears,  tore  their  di- 
shevelled hair,  beat  their  breast*,  and,  as  if  grhf  :\nd 
despair  had  distracted  them,  they  yelled  in  sucli  a 
manner  as  might  have  moved  the  most  savage  bi'easts 
to  compassion.  But  the  scene  was  much  more  me  ui  n- 
ful,  when  the  fatal  moment  of  their  separation  wss 
come  ;  when,  after  having  accompanied  their  oertr 
chil  Iren  to  the  ship,  they  bid  them  a  long  last  fa  •»  - 
well,  persuaded  that  they  should  never  see  them  mor? ; 
bathed  them  with  their  tears  ;  embraced  them  wit*> 
the  utmost  fondness  ;  clasped  them  eagerly  in  thei. 
arms  :  couM  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  part  with  them, 
till  thev  were  forced  away,  which  was  more  grievous 
and  afflicting  than  if  their  hearts  had  been  torn  out  of 
their  breasts.  The  hostages  being  arrived  in  Sicily, 
were  carried  from  thence  to  Rome  ;  and  the  consuls 
told  the  deputies,  that  when  thev  should  arrive  at 
Utica,  they  would  acquaint  them  with  the  orders  of 
the  republic. 

In  such  a  situation  of  aftairs,'  nothing  can  be  more 
grievous  than  a  state  of  uncertainty,  which,  without 
descending  to  particulars,  gives  occasion  to  the  mind 
to  image  to  itstlf"  (very  misery.  As  soon  as  it  was 
known  that  the  fleet  was  arrived  at  JJtica.  the  depu- 
ties repaired  to  the  Roman  camp  ;  signify  ir.r  that  they 
were  come  in  the  name  of  «hejr  repuh.hr,  in  order  to 
receive  their  commands,  wmi,.,  ,I»t,  T«:«  ;eac!y  to 
obey.  The  consul,  alter  pruning  their  good  disposi- 
tion and  oomplianre,  commanded  them  to  deliver  up 
to  him,  without  fraud  or  delav,  all  their  arms.  This 
they  consented  to,  but  besought  him  to  reflect  on  <he 
*ad  condition  to  which  he  wa?  reducing  them,  at  a 

«  Pnlyb   excerpt.  |py«t.  p.  072. 
•  P«lyb.  p.  975.  Appian.  p  45.  «. 


time  when  Asdrubal,  whose  quarrel  against  them  was 
owing  to  no  other  cause  than  their  perfect  submission 
to  the  orders  of  the  Romans,  was  advanced  almost  to 
their  gates,  with  an  army  of  20,000  men.  The  answer 
returned  them  was,  that  the  Romans  would  set  that 
matter  right. 

This  order  was  immediately  put  in  execution.' 
There  arrived  in  the  camp,  a  long  train  of  waggons, 
loaded  with  all  the  preparations  of  war  taken  out  of 
Carthage  ;  200,000  complete  sets  of  armour,  a  num- 
berless multitude  of  darts  and  javelins,  with  2000  en- 
gines for  shooting  darts  and  stones4.  '1  hen  followed 
the  deputies  of  Carthage,  accompanied  by  the  most 
venerable  senators  and  priests,  who  came  purposely 
to  try  to  move  the  Romans  to  compassion  in  this  criti- 
cal moment,  when  their  sentence  was  going  to  be 
pronounced,  and  their  fate  would  be  irreversible. 
Censorinus,  the  consul,  for  it  was  he  who  had  all  along 
spoken,  rose  up  for  a  moment  at  their  coming,  and 
expressed  some  kindness  aud  affection  for  them  ;  but 
suddenly  resuming  a  grave  and  severe  countenance  : 
I  cannot,  says  he,  but  commend  the  rtadintss  with 
which  you  execute  the  orders  of  the  senate.  They  have 
commanded  me  to  tell  yon,  that  it  is  their  absolute  will 
arid  pleasure  that  you  depart  out  of  Carthage,  which, 
they  have  resolved  to  destroy ;  and  that  you  remove  into 
any  other  part  of  your  dominions  which  you  shall  tltink 
I  proper,  provided  it  be  at  the  distance  of  eighty  sliadia* 
from  the  sea. 

The  instant  the  council  pronounced  this  fulminating 
decree,6  nothing  was  heard  among  the  Carthaginians 
but  lamentable  shrieks  and  bowlings.  Being  now  in 
a  manner  thunderstruck,  they  neither  knew  where 
they  were,  nor  what  they  did  ;  but  rolled  themselves 
in  tlie  dust,  tearing  their  clothes,  and  unable  to  vent 
their  grief  any  otherwise,  than  by  broken  sighs  and 
deep  groans.  Being  afterwards  a  little  recovered, 
they  litted  up  their  hands  with  the  air  of  suppliants, 
one  moment  towards  the  gods,  and  the  next  towards 
the  Romans,  imploring  their  mercy  and  justice  towards 
a  people,  who  would  soon  be  reduced  to  the  extremes 
of  despair.  But  as  both  the  gods  and  men  were  deaf 
to  their  fervent  prayers,  they  soon  changed  them  into 
reproaches  and  imprecations  ;  bidding  the  Romans 
call  to  mind,  that  there  were  such  beings  as  avenging 
deitits,  whose  severe  eyes  were  for  ever  open  on  guilt 
and  treachery.  The  Romans  themselves  could  not 
refrain  from  tears  at  so  moving  a  spectacle,  but  their 
resolution  was  fixed.  The  deputies  could  not  even 
prevail  so  far,  as  to  get  the  execution  of  this  ordersus- 
pended,  till  they  sliould  have  an  opportunity  of  pre- 
senting themselves  again  before  the  senate,  to  attempt, 
if  possible,  to  getit  revoked.  They  were  forced  to  set 
out  immediately,  and  carry  the  answer  to  Carthage. 

The  people  waited  for  their  return  with  such  an  im- 
patience and  terror,  as  words  could  never  express.7 
It  was  scarce  possible  for  them  to  break  through  the 
crowd  that  flocked  round  them,  to  hear  the  answer 
that  was  but  too  stronglv  painted  in  their  face.  When 
they  were  come  into  the  senate,  and  had  declared 
the  barbarous  orders  of  the  Romans,  a  general  shriek 
informed  the  people  of  their  fate  ;  and  from  that  in- 
stant, nothing  was  seen  and  heard  in  everv  part  of 
'.he  city,  but  howling  and  despair,  madness  and 
I  irv. 

The  reader  will  here  give  me  leave  to  interrupt  the 
cturse  of  the  history  for  a  moment,  to  reflect  on  the 
c.vidnrt  of  the  Roman.*.  It  is  »  great  pity  that  the 
fr.v^'inent  cf  Foiynruf .  where  an  account  is  given  of 
thn  depu*"'tio;i,  shouk1  end  exactly  in  the  most  in- 
teresting p-irt  of  thi*  narrative.  I  should  set  a  muck 
higher  value  on  one  short  reflection  of  so  judicious  ai 
author,  'hsn  on  llie  long  harangues  which  Appian 
ascribes  ti.  the  deputies  and  the  consul.  I  can  never 
believe,  :htit  so  rational,  judicious,  and  just  a  man  as 
Polybius  could  have  approved  the  proceeding's  of  the 
Romans  on  the  present  occasion.  We  do  not  here 
discover  in  my  opinion,  any  of  the  characteristics 
which  distinguished  them  anciently  ;  that  greatness 

1  Appian.  p.  46.  «  BalUtte  or  Catapults 

•  Four  leagues  or  twelve  miles. 

•  Appian.  p.  46-3J.  '  lb.  »  ^  **• 


124 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


of  soul,  lliat  rectitude,  that  utter  abhorrence  of  all 
mean  artifices,  frauds,  and  impostures,  which,  as  it 
somewhere  said,  formed  no  part  of  the  Roman  dispo- 
sition :  Jklinime  Romanit  artibus.  Why  did  not  the 
Romans  attack  the  Carthaginians  by  open  force  ? 
Why  should  they  declare  expressly  in  a  treaty  (a 
most  solemn  and  sacred  thing)  that  they  allowed 
them  the  lull  enjoyment  of  their  liberties  and  laws  ; 
and  understand,  a.  the  same  time,  certain  private 
conditions,  which  proved  the  entire  ruin  of  both  '? 
Why  should  they  <  J»iceal,  under  the  scandalous  omis- 
sion of  the  word  t~ty  in  this  treaty,  the  perfidious  de- 
sign of  destroying  Catthage  ?  as  if,  beneath  the  cover 
of  such  au  equivocation,  they  might  destroy  it  with 
justice.  In  short,  why  did  the  Romans  not  make 
their  last  declaration,  till  alter  they  had  extorted  from 
the  Carthaginians,  at  different  times,  their  hostages 
and  arms  ;  that  is,  till  they  had  absolutely  rendered 
them  incapable  of  disobeying  their  most  arbitrary 
commands  ?  Is  it  not  manifest,  that  Carthage,  not- 
withstanding all  its  defeats  and  losses,  though  it  was 
weakened  and  almost  exhausted,  was  still  a  terror  to 
the  Romans,  and  that  they  were  persuaded  they  were 
not  able  to  conquer  it  by  force  of  arms  ?  It  is  very 
dangerous  to  be  possessed  of  so  much  power,  as  to  be 
able  to  commit  injustice  with  impunity,  and  with  a 
prospect  of  being  a  gainer  by  it.  The  experience  of 
all  ages  shows,  that  states  seldom  scruple  to  commit 
injustice,  when  they  think  it  will  conduce  to  their  ad- 
vantage. 

The  noble  character  which  Polybius  gives  of  the 
Achaeans,'  differ*  widely  from  what  was  practised 
here.  That  people,  says  he,  far  from  using  artifice 
and  deceit  towards  their  allies,  in  order  to  enlarge 
their  power,  did  not  think  themselves  allowed  to 
employ  them  even  against  their  enemies,  considering 
only  those,  victories  as  solid  and  glorious,  which  were 
obtained  sword  in  hand,  by  dint  of  courage  and 
bravery.  He  owns,  in  the  same  place,  that  there 
then  remained  among  the  Romans  but  verv  faint 
traces  of  the  ancient  generosity  of  their  ancestors  ; 
and  he  thinks  it  incumbent  on  him  (as  he  declares) 
to  make  this  remark,  in  opposition  to  a  maxim  which 
was  grown  very  common  in  his  time  among  persons 
in  the  administration  of  the  government,  who  imagin- 
ed, that  sincerity  is  inconsistent  with  good  policy  ; 
and  that  it  is  impossible  to  succeed  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  state  affairs,  either  in  war  or  peace,  without 
using  fraud  and  deceit  on  some  occasions. 

I  now  return  to  my  subject.  The  consuls  made 
no  great  haste  to  march  against  Carthage.*  not  sus- 
pecting they  had  any  thing  to  fear  from  that  city,  as 
it  was  now  disarmed.  The  inhabitants  took  the  op- 
portunity of  this  delay  to  put  themselves  in  a  posture 
of  defence,  being  all  unanimously  resolved  not  to 
quit  the  city.  They  appointed  as  general,  without 
the  walls,  Asdrubal,  who  was  at  the  head  of  20,000 
men.  iin  I  to  whom  deputies  were  sent  accord ingly,  to 
entreat  him  to  forget,  for  his  country's  sake,  the 
injustice  which  had  been  done  him,  from  the  dread 
they  were  under  of  the  Romans.  The  command  of 
the  troops,  within  the  wall?,  was  given  to  another 
Asdrubal,  grandson  of  Masinissa.  They  then  ap- 
plied themselves  to  the  making  arms  with"  incredible 
expedition.  The  temples,  the  palaces,  the  open 
markets  and  squares,  were  all  changed  into  so  many 
arsenals,  where  men  and  women  worked  day  and 
night.  Every  day  were  imde  140  shields,  300  swords, 
500  pikes  or  javelins,  1000  arrows,  and  a  great  num- 
ber of  engines  to  discharge  them  ;  and  because  they 
wanted  materials  to  make  ropes,  the  women  cut  on 
their  hair  and  abundantly  supplied  their  wants  on 
this  orca-i  >n. 

M»*mis*i  was  vfry  much  disgusted  at  the  Ro- 
mans,' because,  after  he  had  extremely  weakened 
the  Carthaginian*,  they  cmne  and  rcape'd  the  fruits 
of  his  victory,  without  acquainting  him  in  any  man- 
ner with  their  dtsign,  which  circumstance  caused 
tome  col.lness  between  them. 


t  Polyh.  1.  xiii.  p.  671,  (572. 

•  Appian   p.  55.    Strata.  I.  xvii.  p.  833. 


•  Appian.  p.  55. 


During  this  interval,*  the  consuls  were  advancing 
towards  the  city,  in  order  to  besiege  it.  As  they 
expected  nothing  less  than  a  vigorous  resistance,  the 
incredible  resolution  and  courage  of  the  besieged 
filled  them  with  the  utmost  astonishment.  The  Car- 
thaginians were  for  ever  making  the  boldest  sallies,  in 
order  to  repulse  the  besiegers,  to  burn  their  engines 
and  to  harass  their  foragers.  Censorinus  attacked  the 
city  on  one  side,  and  Manilius  on  the  other.  Scipio, 
afterwards  surnamad  Africanus,  served  then  as  tri- 
bune in  the  army:  and  distinguished  himself  above 
the  rest  of  the  officers,  no  less  by  his  prudence  than 
by  his  bravery.  The  consul,  under  whom  he  fought, 
committed  many  oversights,  by  having  refused  to 
follow  his  advice.  This  young  officer  extricated  the 
troops  from  several  dangers  into  which  the  imprudence 
of  their  leaders  had  plunged  them.  A  renowned 
officer,  Phamaeas  bv  name,  who  was  general  of  the 
enemies'  cavalry,  and  continually  harassed  the  fora- 
gers, did  not  dare  ever  to  keep  the  field,  when  it  was 
Scipio's  turn  to  support  them,  so  capable  was  he  of 
keeping  his  troops  in  good  order,  and  posting  him- 
self to  advantage.  So  great  and  universal  a  reputa- 
tion excited  some  envy  against  him  at  first  :  but  as 
he  behaved,  in  all  respects,  with  the  utmost  modesty 
and  reserve,  that  envy  was  soon  changed  into  admi- 
ration ;  so  that  when  the  senate  sent  deputies  to  the 
camp,  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the  siege,  the  whole 
army  gave  him  unanimously  the  highest  commenda- 
tion ;  the  soldiers,  as  well  as  officers,  nay,  the  very 
§enerals,  with  one  voice  extolled  the  merit  of  young 
cipio  :  so  necessary  is  it  for  a  man  to  deaden,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  the  expression,  the  splendour  of  his 


and  make*  even  virtue  itself  odious. 

About  the  same  time  Masinissa,3 
finding  his  enj  approach,  sent  to  A.  M.  3857. 
desire  a  visit  from  Scipio,  in  order  A.  Rom.  601. 
that  he  might  invest  him  with  full 
powers  to  dispose,  as  he  should  see  proper,  of  hi* 
kingdom  and  property,  in  behalf  of  his  children.  But 
on  Scipio's  arrival,  he  found  that  monarch  dead. 
Masinissa  bad  commanded  them,  with  his  dying 
breath,  to  follow  implicitly  the  directions  of  Scipio, 
whom  he  appointed  to  be  a  kind  of  father  and  guardian 
to  them.  I  shall  give  no  farther  account  here  of  the 
family  and  prosperity  of  Masinissa,  because  that 
would  interrupt  too  much  the  history  of  Carthage. 

The  high  esteem  which  Phamaeas  had  entertained 
for  Scipio,'  induced  him  to  forsake  the  Carthaginians 
and  go  over  to  the  Romans.  Accordingly  he  joined 
them  with  above  2000  horse,  and  was  afterwards  of 
great  service  at  the  siege. 

Calpurnius  Piso7  the  consul,  and  L.  Mancinus,  hU 
lieutenant,  arrived  in  Africa  in  the  beginning  of  the 
spring.  Nothing  remarkable  was  transacted  during 
this  campaign.  The  Romans  were  even  defeated  on 
several  occasions,  and  carried  on  the  siege  of  Car- 
thage but  slowly.  The  besieged,  on  the  contrary,  had 
recovered  theirspirits.  Their  troops  were  considera- 
bly increased;  they  daily  got  new  allies;  and  even 
sent  an  express  as  far  as  Macedonia,  to  the  counter- 
feit Philip;8  who  pretended  to  be  the  son  of  Perseus, 
and  was  then  engaged  in  a  war  with  the  Romans,  to 
exhort  hiin  to  carry  it  on  with  vigour,and  promising 
to  furnish  him  with  money  and  ships. 

This  occasioned  some  uneasiness  at  Rome.9  The 
people  began  to  doubt  the  success  of  a  war,  which 
grew  daily  more  uncertain,  and  was  more  important 
than  had"  at  first  been  imagined.  As  much  as  they 
were  dissatisfied  with  thedilatoriness  of  the  general*, 
and  exclaimed  against  their  conduct,  so  much  did 
they  unanimously  agree  in  applauding  young  Scipio, 
ana  extolling  his  rare  and  uncommon  virtues.  H« 
was  come  to  Rome,  in  order  to  stand  candidate  foi 
theedileship.  The  instant  he  appeared  in  the  a*sem 
bly,  his  name,  hi*  countenance,  his  reputation,  • 


«  Appinn.  p.  55— 63.  '  Ib.  p.  63.  •  Ib.  p.  65. 

'  Ib.  p.  66.  '  Andriscui.  •  Appian.  p.  681 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


125 


gencial  persuasion  thai  he  was  designed  by  the  gods 
to  eid  the  third  Punic  war,  as  the  first 'Scipio,  his 
grandfather  by  adoption,  had  terminated  the  second; 
these  several  circumstances  made  a  very  strong  im- 
pression on  the  people;  and  though  it  was  contrary 
to  law,  and  therefore  opposed  by  the  ancient  men, 
instead  of  the  edileShip  which  he  sued  for,  the  people, 
disregarding  for  once  the  laws,  con- 
A.  M.  3858.  ferred  the  consulship  upon  iiirr.,  and 
A.  Rom.  602.  assigned  him  Africa  for  his  province, 
without  casting  lots  for  the  provinces 
as  usual,  and  as  Drusus  his  colleague  demanded. 

As  soon  as  Scipio  had  completed  his  recruits,1  he 
tet  out  for  Sicily,  and  arrived  soon  after  in  Utica.  He 
came  very  seasonably  for  Mancinus,  Piso's  lieutenant, 
who  had  rashly  fixed  himself  in  a  post  where  he  was 
turrounded  by  the  enemy;  and  would  have  been  cut 
to  pieces  that  very  inornmg,  had  not  the  new  consul, 
who,  on  his  arrival,  heard  of  the  danger  he  was  in, 
re-embarked  his  troops,  in  the  night,  and  sailed  with 
the  utmost  speed  to  his  assistance. 

Scipio's  first  care,2  after  his  arrival,  was  to  revive 
discipline  among  the  troops,  which  he  found  had  been 
entirely  neglected.  There  was  not  the  least  regular- 
ity, subordination,  or  obedience.  Nothing  was  at- 
tended to  but  rapine,  feasting  and  diversions.  He 
drove  from  the  camp  all  useless  persons,  settled  the 
quality  of  the  provisions  he  would  have  brought  in 
by  the  suttlers,  and  allowed  of  none  but  what  were 

Slain  and    fit   for  soldiers,  studiously  banishing  all 
ainties  and  luxuries. 

After  he  had  made  these  regulations  which  cost  him 
but  little  time  and  pains,  because  he  himself  first  set 
the  example,  he  was  persuaded  that  those  under  him 
were  soldiers,  and  thereupon  he  prepared  to  carry  on 
the  siege  with  vigour.  Having  ordered  his  troops  to 
provide  themselves  with  axes,  levers,  and  scaling-- 
ladders, he  led  them  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  and 
without  the  least  noise,  to  a  district  of  the  city,  called 
Megara;  when  ordering  them  to  give  a  sudden  and 
general  shout,  he  attacked  it  with  great  vigour.  The 
enemy,  who  did  not  expect  to  be  attacked  in  the 
night,  were  at  first  in  the  utmost  terror;  however, 
they  defended  themselves  so  courageously,  that  Scipio 
could  not  scale  the  walls.  But  perceiving  atower  that 
was  forsaken,  and  which  stood  without  the  city,  very 
near  the  walls,  he  detached  thither  a  party  of  intrepid 
and  resolute  soldiers,  whoi  by  the  help  of  pontons,3 
got  from  the  tower  on  the  walls,  and  from  thence  into 
Megara,  the  gates  of  which,  they  broke  down.  Scipio 
entered  it  immediately  after,  and  drove  the  enemies 
out  of  that  post  •  who,  terrified  at  this  unexpected 
assault,  and  imagining  that  the  whole  city  was  taken, 
fled  into  the  citadel,  whither  they  were  followed  by 
those  forces  that  were  encamped  without  the  city,  who 
abandoned  their  camp  to  the  Romans,  and  thought  it 
necessary  for  them  to  fly  to  a  place  of  security. 

Before  I  proceed  further,4  it  will  be  proper  to  give 
tome  account  of  the  situation  and  dimensions  of  Car- 
thage, which  in  the  beginning  of  the  war  against  the 
Roman?,  contained  700,000  inhabitants.  It  stood  at 
the  bottom  of  a  gulf,  surrounded  by  the  sea,  and  in  the 
form  of  a  peninsula,  whose  neck," that  is,  the  isthmus 
which  joined  it  to  the  continent,  was  twenty-five 
Bt-.idia,  or  a  league  and  a  quarter  in  breadth.  The 
peninsula  was  360  stadia,  or  eighteen  leagues  round. 
On  the  west  side  there  projected  from  it  a  long  neck 
of  land,  half  a  stadium,  or  twelve  fathoms  broad; 
which,  advancing  into  the  sea,  divided  it  from  a 
ttiora«s,  an:l  was  fenced  on  alt  sides  with  rocks  and  a 
tingle  wall.  On  the  south  side,  towards  the  continent 
where  stood  the  citadel  called  Byrsa,  the  citv  was 
lurrounded  with  a  triple  wall,  thirtv  cubits  high, ex- 
clusive of  the  parapets  and  towers,  with  which  it  was 
flanked  all  round  at  equal  distances,  each  interval 
being  fourscore  fathoms.  Every  tower  was  four  stories 
high,  and  the  walls  but  two:  they  were  arched,  and 
in  the  lower  part  were  stalls  to  hold  300  elephants 
with  the  fodder,  and  over  these  were  stables  for  4000 


t  Appian.  p.  69.  »  Ib.  p.  70. 

*  A  sort  of  moveafoU)  bridge. 

•  Appian.  p.  X,  57.    Strata.  I.  xvii.  p.  833. 


horses,  and  lofts  for  their  food.  There  likewise  «vai 
room  enough  to  lodge  20,000  foot,  and  4000  horse 
All  these  were  contained  within  the  walls  alone.  In 
one  place  onlv  the  walls  were  weak  and  low;  and 
that  was  a  neglected  angle,  which  began  at  the  neck 
of  lace!  above  mentioned,  and  extenued  as  far  as  the 
harbours,  which  were  on  the  west  side.  Of  these 
there  were  two,  which  communicated  with  each  other, 
but  had  only  one  entrance,  seventy  feet  broad,  shut 
up  with  chains.  The  first  was  appropriated  for  the 
merchants,  and  had  several  distinct  habitations  !br  the 
seamen.  The  second,  or  inner  harbour,  was  for  the 
ships  of  war,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  an  island 
called  Cothon,  lined,  as  the  harbour  was,  with  large 
quays,  in  which  were  distinct  receptacles5  for  shelter- 
ing from  the  weather  2:20  ships,  over  these  were 
magazines  or  storehouses,  wherein  was  lodged  \\  tiat- 
ever  is  necessary  for  arming  and  equipping  fleets. 
The  entrance  into  each  of  these  receptaclei  wat 
adorned  with  two  marble  pillars  of  the  Ionic  order. 
So  that  both  the  harbour  and  the  Island  represented 
on  each  'side  two  magnificent  galleries.  In  this  island  . 
was  the  admiral's  palace;  and  as  it  stood  opposite  to 
the  mouth  of  the  harbour,  he  could  from  thence  dis- 
cover whatever  was  doing  at  sea,  though  no  one  from 
thence  could  see  what  was  transacting  in  the  inward 
part  of  the  harbour.  The  merchants,  in  like  manner, 
Had  no  prospectof  the  men  of  war;  the  two  poits  being 
separated  by  a  double  wall,  each  having  its  particular 
gate  that  led  to  the  city,  without  passing  through  the 
other  harbour.  So  that  Carthage  may  be  divided  into 
three  parts:6  the  harbour,  which  was  double,  and 
called  sometimes  Cothon,  from  the  little  island  of  that 
name;  the  citadtl,  named  Byrsa:  the  city  propeily  so 
called,  where  the  inhabitants  dwelt,  which  lay  round 
the  citadtl,  and  was  called  Megara. 

At  day-break,7  Asdrubal8  perceiving  the  ignomi- 
nious defeat  of  his  troops,  in  order  that  he  might  be 
revenged  on  the  Romans,  and,  at  the  same  time,  de- 
prive the  inhabitants  of  all  hopes  of  accommodation 
and  pardon,  brought  all  the  Roman  prisoners  he  had 
taken  upon  the  walls,  in  sight  of  the  whole  army. 
There  he  put  them  to  the  most  exquisite  torture;  put- 
ting out  their  eyes,  cutting  off  their  noses,  ears,  and 
fingers;  tearing  their  skin  from  their  body  with  iron 
rakes  or  harrows,  and  then  threw  them  headlong  from 
the  top  of  the  battlements.  So  inhuman  a  trtatment 
filled  the  Carthaginians  with  horror:  however,  he  did 
not  spare  even  them,  but  murdered  many  senators 
who  had  ventured  to  oppose  his  tyranny. 

Scipio,9  finding  himself  absolute  master  of  the  isth- 
mus, burnt  the  camp,  which  the  enemy  had  deserted, 
and  built  a  new  one  for  his  troops.  It  was  of  a  square 
form,  surrounded  with  large  and  deep  entrenchments, 
and  fenced  with  strong  palisades.  On  the  fide  which 
faced  the  Carthaginians,  he  built  a  wall  twelve  feet 
high,  flanked  at  proper  distances  with  towers  and 
redoubts;  and  on  the  middle  tower,  he  erected  a  very 
high  wooden  fort,  from  whence  could  be  seen  whatever 
wfas  doing  in  the  citv.  This  wall  was  equal  to  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  isthmus,  that  is,  twenty-five  sta- 
dia.'0 The  enemy,  who  were  within  bow-shot  of  it, 
employed  their  utmost  efforts  to  put  a  stop  to  this  work; 
but  as  thewhole  army  were  employed  upon  it  day  and 
night  without  intermission,  it  was  finished  in  twenty- 
four  days.  Scipio  reaped  a  double  advantage  from 
this  work:  First,  his  forces  were  lodged  more  safely 
and  comrnodiously  than  before:  Secondly,  he  cut  on 
all  provisions  from  the  besieged,  to  whom  none  could 
now  be  brought  but  by  sea;  which  was  attended  with 
many  difficulties,  both  because  the  sea  is  frequently 
very  tempestuous  in  that  place,  and  because  the  Roman 
fleet  kept  a  strict  guard.  This  proved  one  of  the  chief 
causes  of  the  famine  which  raged  soon  after  in  the 
city.  Besides,  Asdrubal  distributed  the  corn  thnt  was 


I  NI»T»;«OU;,  Strabo.  «B«ch.  in  Phal.  p.  512. 

'  Appinn.  p.  72. 

•  It  wag  he  who  Imd  first  commanded  without  th(»  city, 
but  having  caused  the  other  Afdruhnl,  Mnsiiiina's  grand- 
son  to  be  put  to  death,  he  got  the  command  of  the  Iruup* 
within  the  walls. 

•  Appian.  p.  73.  <°  Four  milet  and  three  quarter*. 

L2 


125 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


Drought,  only  among  the  30,000  men  who  served  under 
Mm,  caring  very  little  what  became  of  the  rest  of  the 
innabitants. 

To  distress  them  still  more  by  the  want  of  provi- 
sions,1 Scipio  attempted  to  stop  up  the  mouth  of  the 
haven,  bv  a  mole,  beginning  at  the  above-mentioned 
neck  of  fand,  which  was  near  the  harbour.  The  be- 
lieged,  at  first  looked  upon  this  attempt  as  ridiculous, 
and  accordingly  they  insulted  the  workmen:  but,  at 
last,  seeing  them  make  an  astonishing  progress  every 
day,  they  began  to  be  afraid;  and  to  take  such  mea- 
sures as  "might,  if  possible,  render  the  attempt  unsuc- 
cessful. Every  one,  to  the  women  and  children,  fell  to 
work,  but  so  privately,  that  all  that  Scipio  could  learn 
from  the  prisoners,  was,  that  they  had  heard  a  great 
noise  in  the  harbour,  but  did  not  know  the  occasion  of 
t.  At  last,  all  things  being  ready,  the  Carthaginians 
opened,  on  a  sudden,  a  new  outlet  on  the  other  side  of 
the  haven;  and  appeared  at  sea  with  a  numerous  fleet, 
which  they  had  just  then  built  with  the  old  materials 
found  in  tneir  magazines.  It  is  generally  allowed,  that 
had  they  attacked  the  Roman  fleet  directly,  they  must 
infallibly  have  taken  it;  because,  as  no  such  attempt 
was  expected,  and  every  man  was  elsewhere  employed, 
the  Carthaginians  would  have  found  it  without  rowers, 
soldiers,  or  officers.  But  the  ruin  of  Carthage,  savs 
the  historian,  was  decreed.  Having  therefore  only 
offered  a  kind  of  insult  or  bravado  to  the  Romans, 
they  returned  into  the  harbour. 

Two  days  after,*  they  brought  forward  their  ships, 
with  a  resolution  to  fight  in  good  earnest,  and  found 
the  enemy  ready  for  them.  This  battle  was  to  deter- 
mine the  fate  of  both  parties.  The  conflict  was  long 
and  obstinate,  each  exerting  themselves  to  the  utmost; 
the  one  to  save  their  country,  now  reduced  to  the  last 
extremity,  and  the  other  to  complete  their  victory. 
During  the  fight,  the  Carthaginian  brigantines  running 
along  under  the  large  Roman  ships,  broke  to  pieces 
sometimes  their  sterns,  and  at  other  times  their  rud- 
ders and  oars;  and,  when  briskly  attacked,  retreated 
with  surprising  swiftness,  and  returned  immediately 
to  the  charge.  At  last,  after  the  two  armies  had  fought 
with  equal  success  till  sun-set,  the  Carthaginians 
thought  proper  to  retire;  not  that  they  believed  them- 
selves overcome, but  in  order  to  begin  the  fight  again 
on  the  morrow.  Part  of  their  ships,  not  being  able  to 
run  swiftly  enough  in  the  harbour,  because  the  mouth 
of  it  was  too  narrow,  took  shelter  under  a  very  spa- 
cious terrace,  which  had  been  thrown  up  against  the 
walls  to  unload  goods,  on  the  side  of  which  a  small 
rampart  had  been  raised  during  this  war,  to  prevent 
the  enemy  from  possessing  themselves  of  it.  Here 
the  fight  was  again  renewed  with  more  vigour  than 
ever,  and  lasted  till  late  at  night.  The.  Carthaginians 
suffered  very  much,  and  the  few  ships  which  got  off, 
sailed  for  refuge  to  the  city.  Morning  being  come, 
Scipio  attacked  the  terrace,  and  carried  it,  though  with 
great  difficulty ;  after  which  he  made  a  lodgment  there, 
and  fortified  himself  on  it,  and  built  a  brick  wall  close 
to  those  of  the  city,  and  of  the  same  height.  When 
'.t  was  finished,  he  commanded  4000  men  to  get  on  the 
top  of  it,  and  to  discharge  from  it  a  perpetual  shower 
of  darts  and  arrows  upon  the  enemy,  which  did  great 
execution;  because,  as  the  two  walls  were  of  equal 
height,  almost  every  dart  took  effect.  Thus  ended 
this  campaign. 

During  the  winter-quarters,3  Scipio  endeavoured  to 
overpower  the.  enemy's  troops  without  the  city,  who 
vrry  much  harassed  (he  convoys  that  brought  his  pro- 
visions, and  protected  such  as  were  sent  to  the  besieged. 
For  this  purpose  he  attacked  a  neighbouring  fort,  called 
Nepheris,  where  they  used  to  shelter  themselves.  In 
the  last  action,  about  70,000  of  the  enemy,  as  well 
soldiers  as  peasants,  who  had  been  enlisted,  were  cut 
to  pieces;  and  the  fort  was  carried  with  great  diffi- 
culty, after  sustaining  a  siege  of  two-and-twenty  days. 
The  seizure  of  this  fort  was  followed  by  the  surrender 
of  almost  all  the  strong  holds  of  Africa;  and  contri- 
buted very  much  to  the  taking  of  Carthage  itself,  into 
which,  from  that  time,  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
bring  any  provisions. 


'  Appitn.  p  74.  » lb.  p.  75.  •  Ib.  p.  78. 


Early  in  the  spring,*  Scipio  attack- 
ed at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  har-  A.  M.  3859. 
bour  called  Cothon,  and  the  citadel.  A.  Rom.  603. 
Having  possessed  himself  of  the  wall 
which  surrounded  this  port,  he  threw  himself  into  the 
great  square  of  the  city  that  was,  near  it,  from  whence 
was  an  ascent  to  the  citadel,  up  three  streets,  on  each 
side  o!'  which  were  houses,  from  t\\*  lops  whereof  a 
shower  of  darts  was  discharged  upon  the  Romans, 
who  were  obliged,  before  they  could  advance,  farther, 
to  fore  '.  the  houses  they  came  first  to,  and  post  them- 
selves i  them,  in  order  to  dislodge  from  thence  the 
enemy  who  fought  from  the  neighbouring  houses. 
The  combat  which  was  carried  on  from  the  tops,  and 
in  every  part  of  the  houses,  continued  six  da)  s,  during 
which  a  dreadful  slaughter  was  made.  To  clear  the 
streets,  and  make  way  for  the  troops,  the  Romans 
dragged  aside,  with  hooks,  the  bodies  of  such  of  the 
inhabitants  as  had  been  slain,  or  precipitated  headlong 
from  the  houses;  and  threw  them  into  pits, the  great- 
est part  of  them  being  still  alive  and  panting.  In  this 
toil,  which  lasted  six  days  and  as  many  nights,  the 
solc'icrs  were  relieved  from  time  to  time  by  fresh  ones, 
without  which  they  would  have  been  quite  spent. 
Scipio  was  the  only  person  who  did  not  take  a  wink 
of  siieep  all  this  time;  giving  orders  in  all  places,  and 
scarce  allowing  himself  leisure  to  take  the  least  re- 
freshment. . 

There  was  every  reason  to  believe,5  that  the  siege 
would  last  much  longer,  and  occasion  a  great  effusion 
of  blood.  But  on  the  seventh  day,  there  appeared  a 
compuiy  of  men  in  the  posture  and*  habit  of  suppliants, 
who  desired  no  other  conditions,  than  that  the  Romans 
would  please  to  spare  the  lives  of  all  those  who  should 
be  willing  to  leave  the  citadel:  which  request  was 
granted  them,  only  the  deserters  were  excepted.  Ac- 
cordingly, there  came  out  50,000  men  and  women,  who 
were  lent  into  the  fields  under  a  strong  guard.  The 
deserters,  who  were  about  900,  finding  they  would  not 
be  allowed  quarter,  fortified  themselves  in  the  temple 
of  jEsculapius,  with  Asdrubal,  his  wife,  and  two  chil- 
dren ;  \\  here,  though  their  number  was  but  small,  they 
might  have  held  out  a  long  time,  because  the  temple 
stood  on  a  very  high  hill,  upon  rocks,  the  ascent  to 
which  was  by  sixty  steps.  But  at  last,  exhausted  by 
hunger  and  watching,  oppressed  with  fear,  and  seeing 
their  destruction  at  hand,  they  lost  ail  patience;  and 
abandoning  the  lower  part  of  the  temple,  they  retired 
to  the  uppermost  story,  resolved  not  to  quit  it  but  with 
their  lives. 

In  the  mean  time,  Asdrubal  being  desirous  of  saving 
his  life,  came  down  privately  to  Scipio,  carrying  an 
olive-branch  in  his  hand,  and  threw  himself  at  his  feet. 
Scipio  showed  him  immediately  to  the  deserters,  who, 
transported  with  rage  and  fury  at  the  sight,  vented 
millions  of  imprecations  against  him,  and  set  fire  to  the 
temple.  Whilst  it  was  kindling,  we  are  told,  that 
Asdrubal's  wife,  dressing  herself  as  splendidly  as  pos- 
sible, and  placing  herself  with  her  two  children  in 
sight  of  Scipio.  addressed  him  with  a  loud  voice:  1 
callnot  down, says  she, curses  vponthy  head,  ORoman; 
forlhouonlytakesttheprivilegeallowr.d  by  the  laws  of 
u-ar:  but  may  the  gods  of  Carthage, and  thouin  concert 
with  them,  punish,  according  to  his  deserls,  the  false 
virtlch  who  has  betrayed  Hs  country, his  gods,  his  wife 
his  children!  Then  directing  herself  to  Asdrubal: — 
Perfidious  wretch,  says  she,  thou  basest  of  men!  this 
fire  will  presently  consume  both  me  and  my  children; 
but  as  to  Ihee, unworthy  general  of  Carthage, go, adorn 
the  gay  triumph  of  thy  conqueror;  siiffer,  in  the  sight 
of  all  Rome,  (he  tortures  thou  sojusily  deservesl.  She 
had  no  sooner  pronounced  these  words,  than  seizing 
her  children,  she  cut  their  throats,  threw  them  into  the 
flames,  and  afterwards  rushed  into  them  herself;  in 
which  she  was  imitated  by  all  the  deserters. 

With  regard  to  Scipio,6  when  he  saw  this  fanioui 
city,  which  had  been  so  flourishing  for  700  years,  and 
might  have  been  compared  to  the  greatest  empires,  oo 
account  of  the  extent  of  its  dominions,  both  by  sea 
and  land;  its  mighty  armies;  its  fleets,  eleph'ants, 
and  riches;  while  the  Carthaginians  were  even  supe- 


•  Appian.  p.  79  *  Ibid.  p.  61.  >  Ibid.  p.  88. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


127 


nor  to  other  nations  by  their  courage  and  greatness  of 
•oul.  as  notwithstanding;  their  being  deprived  ol  arms 
and  ships,  t'.iey  had  sustained,  for  three  whole  years, 
all  the  harJsLips  and  calamities  of  a  long  siege:  see- 
ing, I  ?a]',  this  city  entirely  ruined,  historians  relate, 
that  he  could  not  refuse  his  tears  to  the  unhappy  fate 
of  Carthage.  He  reflected,  that  cities  nations,  and 
empi/es,  are  liable  to  revolutions  no  less  than  private 
men;  that  the  like  sad  fate  had  befallen  Troy. ancient- 
ly so  powerful;  and,  in  later  times,  the  Assyrians, 
Medes  and  Persians,  whose  dominions  were  once  of 
so  great  an  extent;  and  very  recently, the  Macedoni- 
ans, whose  empire  had  been  so  glorious  throughout 
the  world.  Full  of  these  mournful  ideas,  he  repeated 
the  following  verses  of  Homer: 

"'Eir<riT»i  ff-e,  tr*i/  trtr'  eXwX.i|  "lx.i»{  ifi), 

K«i   IIpi»JUG£,  XXI  XftC>  ffffjtfMXni  JIf  »*^5iC. 

li.  S:  164, 165. 

The  day  shall  come,  that  great  avenging  day 
Which  Trcy'u  proud  glories  in  the  dust  shall  lay  ; 
When  Priam'*  powers  and  Priam's  self  shall  fall, 
And  one  prodigious  ruin  swallow  all. — Pope. 

Thereby  denouncing  the  future  destiny  of  Rome,  as 
he  himself  confessed  to  Poly  bius,  who  desired  Scipio 
to  explain  himself  on  that  occasion. 

Had  the  truth  enlightened  his  soul,  he  would  have 
discovered  what  we  are  taught  in  the  Scriptures,  that 
because  of  unrighteous  dealings,  injuries,  and  riches 
got  by  deceit,  akingdom  is  translated  from  one  people 
to  another.1  Carthage  is  destroyed,  because  its  avar- 
ice, perfidiousness,  and  cruelty,  have  attained  their 
utmost  height.  The  like  fate  will  attend  Rome,  when 
its  luxury,  ambition,  pride,  and  unjust  usurpations, 
concealed  beneath  a  specious  and  delusive  snow  of 
justice  and  virtue,  shall  have  compelled  the  sovereign 
Lord,  the  disposer  of  empires,  to  give  the  universe  an 
important  lesson  in  its  fall. 

Carthage  being  taken  in  this  man- 
A.  M.  3859.  ner,8  Scipio  gave  the  plunderof  it  (the 
A.  Carth.  701.  gold,  silver,  statues,  and  other  offer- 
A.  Rom.  603.  ings  which  should  be  found  in  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  145.  temples,  excepted)  to  his  soldiers  for 
some  days.  He  afterwards  bestowed 
•everal  military  rewards  on  them,  as  well  as  on  the 
officers,  two  ol  whom  had  particularly  distinguished 
themselves,  viz.  Tib.  Gracchus  and  Caius  Kannius, 
who  first  scaled  the  walls.  After  this,  adorning  a 
small  ship  (an  excellent  sailer)  with  the  enemy's 
spoils,  he  sent  it  to  Rome  with  the  news  of  the  vic- 
tory. 

At  the  same  time  he  invited  the  inhabitants  of 
Sicily  to  come  and  take  possession  of  the  pictures  and 
statues  which  the  Carthaginians  had  plundered  them 
of  in  the  former  wars.8  When  he  restored  to  the 
citizens  of  Agrigentum,  Phalaris's  famous  bull,*  he 
told  them  that  this  bull,  which  was,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  a  monument  of  the  cruelty  of  their  ancient 
kings  and  of  the  lenity  of  their  present  sovereigns, 
ought  to  make  them  sensible  which  would  be  most 
advantageous  for  them,  to  live  under  the  yoke  of  Si- 
cilians, or  the  government  of  the  Romans. 

Having  exposed  to  sale  part  of  the  spoils  of  Car- 
thage, he  commanded,  on  the  most  severe  penalties, 
his  family  not  to  take  or  even  buy  any  of  them;  so 
careful  was  he  to  remove  from  himself,  and  all  be- 
longing to  him,  the  least  suspicion  of  avarice. 

When  the  news  of  the  taking  of  Carthage  was 
brought  to  Rome,5  the  people  abandoned  themselves 
to  the  most  immoderate  transports  of  joy,  as  if  the 
public  tranquillity  had  not  been  secured  till  that  in- 
stant. They  revolved  in  their  minds  all  the  calami- 
ties which  the  Carthaginians  had  brought  upon  them, 
in  Sicily,  in  Spain,  and  even  in  Italv,  for  sixteen  years 
together:  during  which,  Hannibal  had  plundered  400 
towns,  destroyed  in  different  engagements  300,000 

Ec.clus.  x.  8.  »  Appian.  p.  83.  »  Ibid. 

«  Quern  taurnm  Scipio  cum  redderet  Agrigentinis,  dix- 
isno  diritur,  u-ijuum  e?se  illos  eoeitare  utrum  easel  Sicnlis 
uiilius,  suisne  servire,  an  populo  R.  oblempemre,  cum  idem 
monument  um  et  domestirae  crudelitatis,  et  nostre  mansue- 
tudinis  haberent.  Ctc.  verr.  vi.  n.  73. 

•  Appian.  p.  83. 


men,  and  reduced  Rome  itself  tc  the  utmost  extremi- 
ty. Amidst  the  remembrance  of  these  past  evils,  the 
people  in  Rome  would  ask  one  an  >ther,  whether  it 
were  really  true  that  Carthage  was  in  ashes.  All 
ranks  and  degrees  of  men  tmulously  strove  who 
should  show  the  greatest  gratitude  towards  the  gods- 
and  the  citizens  were,  for  many  days,  employed  onlj 
in  solemn  sacrifices,  in  public  prayers,  games,  ana 
spectacles. 

After  these  religious  duties  were  ended,6  the  senate 
sent  ten  commissioners  into  Africa,  to  regulate,  in 
conjunction  with  Scipio,  the  fate  and  condition  of 
that  country  for  the  time  to  come.  The  first  car* 
was,  to  demolish  whatever  was  still  remaining  of 
Carthage.1'  Rome,8  though  mistress  of  almost  the 
whole  world,  could  not  believe  herself  safe  so  long  as 
even  the  name  of  Carthage  was  in  being.  So  true  it 
is,  that  an  inveterate  hatred,  fomented  by  long  and 
bloody  wars,  lasts  even  beyond  the  time  when  ail 
cause  of  fear  is  removed;  and  does  not  cease  till  the 
object  that  occasions  it  is  no  more.  Orders  were 
given,  in  the  name  of  the  Romans,  that,  it  should 
never  be  inhabited  again;  and  dreadful  imprecations 
were  denounced  against  those,  who,  contrary  to  this 
prohibition,  should  attempt  to  rebuild  any  parts  of  it, 
especially  those  called  Byrsa  and  Megara.  In  the 
mean  time,  every  one  who  desired  it,  was  admitted  to 
see  Carthage;  Scipio  being  well  pleased,  to  have 
people  view  the  sad  ruins  of  a  city  which  had  dared 
to  contend  with  Rome  for  empire.9  The  commis- 
sioners decreed  farther,  that  those  cities  which,  during 
this  war,  had  joined  with  the  enemy,  should  all  be 
razed,  and  their  territories  be  given  to  the  Roman  al- 
lies; they  particularly  made  a  grant  to  (he  citizens  of 
Utica,  of  the  whole  country  lying  between  Carthage 
and  Hippo.  All  the  rest  they  made  tributary  and  re- 
duced it  into  a  Roman  province,  whither  a  praetor  was 
sent  annually. 

All  matters  being  thus  settled,10  Scipio  returned  to 
Rome,  where  he  made  his  entry  in  triumph.  So  mag- 
nificent a  one  had  never  been  seen  before;  the  whole 
exhibiting  nothing  but  statues,  rare  invaluable  pic- 
tures, and  other  curiosities,  which  the  Carthaginians 
had,  for  many  years,  been  collecting  in  other  coun- 
tries; not  to  mention  the  money  carried  into  the  pub- 
lic treasury,  which  amounted  to  immense  sums. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  precautions  which  were 
taken  to  hinder  Carthage  from  being  ever  rt built,"  in 
less  than  thirty  years  after,  and  even  in  Scipio's 
lifetime,  one  of  the  Gracchi,  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  the  people,  undertook  to  found  it  anew,  and 
conducted  thither  a  colony  consisting  of  6000  citizens 
for  that  purpose.  The  senate,  hearing  that  the  work- 
men had  been  terrified  by  many  unlucky  omens,  at  the 
time  they  were  tracing  the  limits,  and  laying  the 
foundation  of  the  new  city,  would  have  suspended 
the  attempt;  but  the  tribune,  not  being  over  scrupu- 
lous in  religious  matters,  carried  on  the  work,  not- 
withstanding all  these  bad  presages,  and  finished  it  in 
a  few  days.  This  was  the  first  Roman  colony  that 
was  ever  sent  out  of  Italy. 

It  is  probable,  that  only  a  kind  of  huts  were  built 
there,  since  we  are  told,1^  that  when  Marius  retired 
hither,  in  his  flight  to  Africa,  he  lived  in  a  mean  and 
poor  condition  amid  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  consoling 


«  Appian.  p.  84. 

i  We  may  guess  at  the  dimensions  of  this  famous  city,  by 
what  Florius  says,  rt:.  that  it  was  seventeen  days  on  fire, 
before  it  could  be  consumed.  Quanta  itrbs  deleta  sit,  vt  dt 
•trleris  taceam,  vel  ignium  mora  probari  potest ;  quippe  per 
•ontiinio*  decent  et  septem  dies  rii  potuit  incendinm  fitin- 
gui.  Lib.  ii.  c.  15. 

•  Neque  se  Roma,  jam  terrarum  orbe  tuperato,  necuram 
speravit     fore,    si    nomen    usquam     maneret    ("a.tlmjinis. 
Adeo  odium  certaminibus  ortum  ultra  metnm  durat  et  ne  in 
victis  quidem  deponitur,  neque  ante  invisum  esse  desinit, 
quam  ease  desiit.     Vtl.  Patere.  I.  i.  c.  12. 

•  Ut  ip?e  locus  eorum,  qui  cum  hac  urhe  de  imperio,  cer- 
tarunt,  vestigia  calamitatis  ostenderet.  Cie  Jlgrar.  ii.  n.50 

««  Appian.  p. 84.       «'  Ib.  p.  85.  Pint,  in  vit.  Gracch.  p.  839. 

«*  Marins  curnum  in  Africam  direxit.  inopemque  vilam 
in  tugurio  ruinarum  Carthaginensium  tolpravit :  cum  Ma- 
rios aspiciens  Carthaginem.  ilia  inlu^ns  Mariuin,  alter  alt* 
ri  poueiit  esse  tolatio.  Vtl.  Pattrc.  Hi.  c.  10. 


128 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


himself  oy  the  sight  of  so  astonishing  a  spectacle; 
himself  serving,  in  some  measure,  as  a  consolation  to 
(hat  ill-fated  city. 

Appian  relates,1  that  Julius  Caesar,  after  the  death 
of  Pompey,  having  crossed  into  Africa,  saw,  in  a 
dream,  an  army  composed  of  a  prodigious  number  of 
soldiers,  who,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  called  him; 
and  that,  struck  with  the  vision,  he  writ  down  in  his 
pocket-book  the  design  which  he  formed  on  this  oc- 
casion, of  rebuilding  Carthage  and  Corinth;  but 
having  been  murdered  soon  after  by  the  conspirators, 
Augustus  Caesar,  his  adopted  son,  who  found  this 
memorandum  among  his  papers,  rebuilt  Carthage 
near  the  spot  where  it  stood  formerly,  in  order  that 
the  imprecations  which  had  been  vented,  at  the  time 
of  its  destruction,  against  those  who  should  presume 
to  rebuild  it,  might  not  fall  upon  him. 

I  know  not  .what  foundation  Appian  has  for  this 
story;  but  we  read  in  Strabo,2  that  Carthage  and 
Corinth  were  rebuilt  at  the  same  time  by  Caesar, 
to  whom  he  gives  the  name  of  god,  bv  which  title,  a 
little  before,3  he  had  plainly  intended  Julius  Ca?sar; 
and  Plutarch,*  in  the  life  of  that  emperor,  ascribes  ex- 
pressly to  him,  the  establishment  of  these  two  co- 
lonies; and  observes,  that  one  remarkable  circum- 
stance in  these  two  cities  is,  that  as  both  had  been 
taken  and  destroyed  at  the  same  time,  they  likewise 
were  at  the  same  time  rebuilt  and  repeopled.  How- 
ever this  be,  Strabo  affirms  that  in  his  time  Carthage 
was  as  populous  as  any  city  in  Africa;  and  it  rose 
to  be  the  capital  of  Africa,  under  the  succeeding  em- 
perors. It  existed  for  about  700  years  after,  in  splen- 
dour, but  at  last  was  so  completely  destroyed  by  the 
Saracens,  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century, 
that  neither  its  name,  nor  the  least  footsteps  of  it,  are 
known  at  this  time  in  the  country. 
A  Digression  on  the  Manners  and  Character  of  the 
second  Scipio  Africanus. 

Scipio,  the  destroyer  of  Carthage,  was  son  to  the 
famous  Paulus  jEmifius,  who  conquered  Perseus,  the 
last  king  of  Macedon;  and  consequently  grandson 
to  that  Paulus  -lEmilius  who  lost  his  life  in  the  battle 
of  Cannae.  He  was  adopted  by  the  son  of  the  great 
Scipio  Africanus,  and  called  Scipio  jEmilianus;  the 
names  of  the  two  families  being  so  united,  pursuant 
to  the  law  of  adoptions.  He  supported,5  with  equal 
lustre,  the  dignity  of  both  houses,  by  all  the  qualities 
that  can  confer  honour  on  the  sword  and  gown.  The 
whole  tenor  of  his  life,  says  an  historian,  whether 
with  regard  to  his  actions,  his  thoughts,  or  words, 
was  deserving  of  the  highest  praise.  He  distinguish- 
ed himself  particularly  (a  eulogium  that,  at  present, 
can  seldom  be  applied  to  persons  of  the  military  pro- 
fession), by  his  exquisite  taste  for  polite  literature, 
and  all  the  sciences,  as  well  as  by  the  uncommon  re- 
gard he  showed  to  learned  men.  It  is  universally 
known,  that  he  was  reported  to  be  the  author  of  Te- 
rence's comedies,  the  most  polite  and  elegant  writings 
which  the  Romans  could  boast.  We  are  told  of  Sci- 
pio,6 that  no  man  could  blend  more  happily  repose 
and  action,  nor  employ  his  leisure  hours  with  greater 
delicacy  and  taste:  thus  was  he  divided  between  arms 
and  books,  between  the  military  labours  of  the  camp, 
and  the  peaceful  employment  of  the  cabinet;  in  which 
he  either  exercised  his  body  in  toils  of  war,  or  his 
mind  in  the  sturly  of  the  sciences.  By  this  he  showed, 
that  nothing  does  greater  honour  to  a  person  of  dis- 
tinction, of  what  quality  or  profession  soever  he  be, 
than  the  adorning  his  mind  with  knowledge.  Cicero, 
speaking  of  Scipio,  says,7  that  he  always  had  Xeno- 


»  Strah.  I.  xvii.  p.  83a 
Page  73'J. 


i  Appian.  p.  85. 

»  Page  83). 

•  Scipio  /Eniilianud,  vir  avitis  P.  Afrirani  paternisqne  L. 
Paul!  virtniilius  simillimus.  omnibus  belli  ac  toga*  dolibus. 
iiiiMMin  ,»••  nr  siiidinrum  eminent ifftimua  s.-i-ruli  sui,  qni  niliil 
in  vila  nisi  Inudiiiidum  aut  fecit  nut  dixit  aut  sensit.  yd. 
Patrrc.  I.  i.  c.  l->. 

«  \eque  enim  quisquam  hoc  Scipione  elegantiu*  inter- 
valla  neyotiorum  olio  dispunxit  :  semperque  aut  belli  aut 
par  is  -.Tviii  artibuB,  semper  inter  armuncstudia  vcrsatusaut 
corpus  pcrirulia,  aut  animum  disr.iplini*  exereuit.  74.  c.  13. 

'  AfricaniM  semper  Socrnticum  Xenophontem  in  manibu* 
hiib.-liat.  7V»-c.  Qufst.  I.  li.  n.  02. 


phon's  works  in  his  hands,  which  are  so  famous  (01 
the  solid,  and  excellent  instructions  they  contain  both 
in  regard  to  war  and  policy. 

He  owed  this  exquisite  taste  for  polite  learning  and 
the  sciences,8  to  the  excellent  education  which  Pau 
his  ^milius  bestowed  on  his  children.  He  had  put 
them  under  the  ablest  masters  in  every  art;  and  did 
not  spare  any  expense  on  that  occasion,  though  hii 
circumstances  were  very  narrow:  P.  jEmilius  himself 
was  present  at  all  their  lessons,  as  often  as  the  affairs 
of  the  state  would  permit;  becoming,  by  this  means, 
their  chief  preceptor. 

The  intimate  union  between  Polybius  and  Scipio 
put  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  exalted  qualities  which, 
by  the  superiority  of  his  genius  and  disposition,  and 
the  excellency  of  his  education,  were  already  the  sub- 
ject of  admiration.9  Polybius,  with  a  great  number 
of  Achaeans,  whose  fidelity  the  Romans  suspected 
during  the  war  with  Perseus,  was  detained  in  Rome, 
where  his  merit  soon  caused  his  company  to  be  covet- 
ed by  all  persons  of  the  highest  quality  in  that  city. 
Scipio,  when  scarce  eighteen,  devoted  himself  entirely 
to  Polybius  ;  and  considered  as  the  greatest  felicity 
of  his  life,  the  opportunity  he  had  of  being  instructed 
by  so  great  a  master,  whose  society  he  preferred  to  all 
the  vain  and  idle  amusements  which  are  generally  so 
alluring  to  young  persons. 

Polybius's  first  care  was  to  inspire  Scipio  with  an 
aversion  for  those  equally  dangerous  and  ignomini- 
ous pleasures,  to  which  the  Roman  youth  were  so 
strongly  addicted  ;  the  greatest  part  of  them  being 
already  depraved  and  corrupted  by  the  luxury  and  li- 
centiousness which  riches  and  new  conquests  had 
introduced  in  Rome.  Scipio,  during  the  first  five 
years  that  he  continued  in  so  excellent  a  school,  made 
the  greatest  improvement  in  it  ;  and  despising  the 
ridicule,  as  well  as  the  pernicious  examples,  ol  per 
sons  of  the  same  age  with  himself,  he  was  looked 
upon,  even  at  *!.at  tune,  as  a  model  of  discretion  and 
wisdom. 

From  hence,  the  transition  was  easy  and  natural  to 
generosity,  to  a  noble  disregard  of  riches,  and  to  a 
laudable  use  of  them  ;  all  virtues  so  requisite  in  per 
sons  of  illustrious  birth,  and  which  Scipio  carried  to 
the  most  exalted  pitch, as  appears  from  some  instances 
of  this  kind  related  by  Polybius,  which  are  highly 
worthy  our  admiration. 

^Emilia,10  wife  of  the  first  Scipio  Africanus,  and 
motherof  him  who  had  adopted  the  Scipio  mentioned 
here  by  Polybius,  had  bequeathed,  at  her  death,  a 
great  estate  to  the  latter.  This  lady,  besides  the 
diamonds  and  jewels  which  are  worn  by  women  of 
her  high  rank,  possessed  a  great  number  of  gold 
and  silver  vessels  used  in  sacrifices,  together  with 
several  splendid  equipages,  and  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  slaves  of  both  sexes  ;  the  whole  suited  to  the 
opulence  of  the  august  house  into  which  she  had  mar- 
ried. At  her  death,  Scipio  made  over  all  those  rich 
possessions  to  Papiria  his  mother,  who,  having  been 
divorced  a  considerable  time  before  by  Paulus  JEmi- 
lius, and  not  being  in  circumstances  to  support  the 
dignity  of  her  birth,  lived  in  great  obscurity,  and  never 
appeared  in  the  assemblies  or  public  ceremonies.  But 
when  she  again  frequented  them  with  a  magnificent 
train,  this  noble  generosity  of  Scipio  did  him  great 
honour,  especially  in  the  minds  of  the  ladies,  who 
expatiated  on  it  in  all  their  conversations,  and  in  • 
city  whose  inhabitants, says  Polybius,  were  not  easily 
prevailed  upon  to  part  with  their  money. 

Sripio  w^s  no  less  admired  on  another  occasion. 
He  was  bound,  in  consequence  of  the  estate  that  had 
fallen  to  him  by  the  death  of  his  grandmother,  to  pay 
at  three  different  times  to  the  two  daughters  of  Scipio, 
his  grandfather  by  adoption,  half  their  portions,  which 
amounted  to  50,000  French  crowns.11  The  time  for 
the  payment  of  the  first  sum  being  expired,  Scipio  put 
the  whole  money  into  the  hands  of  a  banker.  Tibe- 

•  Pint,  in  vit.  jEmil.  Paul.  p.  358. 

»  Excerp.  e  Polvb.  p.  147—163. 

1°  She  was  sister  of  Paulus  lEmiliui,  father  of  the  second 
Bcipio  Africnnut. 
•   »  Or,  11.250/.  iterlinj. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


129 


rina  Gracchus  and  Scipio  Nasica,  who  had  married 
the  two  sisters,  imagining  that  Scipio  had  made  a 
mistake,  went  to  him  and  observed,  that  the  laws 
allowed  him  three,  years  to  pay  this  sum  in,  and  at 
three  different  times.  Young  Scipio  answered,  that 
he  knew  very  well  what  the  laws  directed  on  this 
occasion:  that  they  might  indeed  be  executed  in  their 
greatest  rigour  towards  strangers,  but  that  friends 
and  relations  ought  to  treat  one  another  with  a  more 
generous  simplicity  :  and  therefore  desired  them  to 
receive  the  whole  sum.  They  were  struck  with  such 
admiration  at  the  generosity  of  their  kinsman,  that  in 
their  return  home,  they  reproached  themselves  for 
their  narrow  way  of  thinking,1  at  a  time  when  they 
mad<  the  grectest  figure,  and  had  the  highest  regard 
paid  .o  them,  of  any  family  in  Rome.  This  generous 
ac.ion,  says  Polvbius,  was  the  more  admired,  because 
nc  person  in  Rome,  so  far  from  consenting  to  pay 
50,000  crowns  before  they  were  due,  would  pay  even 
10W  before  the  time  for  payment  was  elapsed. 

It  was  from  the  same  noble  spirit  that,  two  years 
mfter,  Pauius  jEmilius  his  father  being  dead,  he  made 
over  to  his  brother  Fabius,  who  was  not  so  wealthy  as 
himself,  the  part  of  their  father's  estate  which  was  hi* 
(Scipio's)  due  (amount!  ng  to  above  60,000  crown?),8 
in  order  that  there  might  not  be  so  great  a  disparity 
between  his  fortune  and  that  of  his  brother. 

This  Fabius  being  desirous  to  exhibit  a  show  of 
gladiators  after  his  father's  decease,  in  honour  of  his 
memory  (as  was  the  custom  in  that  age,)  and  not 
oeing  able  to  defray  the  expenses  or.  this  occasion, 
which  amounted  to  a  very  heavy  sum,  Scipio  made 
him  a  present  of  15,000s  crowns,  in  order  to  defray- 
al least  half  the  charges  of  it. 

The  splendid  presents  which  Scipio  had  made  his 
mother  Papiria,  reverted  to  him,  by  law  as  well  as 
equity,  after  her  demise  :  and  his  sisters,  according  to 
the  custom  of  those  times,  had  not  the  least  claim  to 
them.  Nevertheless,  Scipio  thought  it  would  have 
been  dishonourable  in  him,  had  he  taken  them  back 
again.  He  therefore  made  over  to  his  sisters  what- 
ever he  had  presented  to  their  mother,  which  amount- 
ed to  a  very  considerable  sum  :  and  by  this  fresh  proof 
of  his  glorious  disregard  of  wealth,  and  the  tender 
friendship  he  had  for  his  family,  acquired  the  applause 
of  the  whole  citv. 

These  different  benefactions,  which  amounted  alto- 
gether to  a  prodigious  sum,  seem  to  have  received  a 
•rigfeter  lustre  from  the  age  in  which  he  bestowed 
them,  he  being  still  very  young  ;  and  yet  more  from 
the  circumstances  of  the  time  when  they  were  pre- 
sented, as  well  as  the  kind  and  obliging  carriage  he 
assumed  on  those  occasions. 

The  incidents  I  have  here  related  are  so  repugnant 
to  the  maxims  of  this  age.  that  there  might  be  reason 
to  fear  the  reader  woul  I  consider  them  merely  as  the 
rhetorical  flourishes  of  an  historian  who  was  prejudiced 
in  favour  of  his  hero  :  if  it  was  not  well  known,  that 
Vic  predominant  characteristic  of  Polybius,  by  whom 
they  are  related,  is  a  sincere  love  for  truth,  and  an 
utter  aversion  to  adulation  of  every  kind.  In  the  very 
passage  whence  this  relation  is  extracted,  he  has 
thought  it  necessary  for  him  to  be  a  little  guarded, 
where  he  expatiates  on  the  virtuous  actions  and  rare 
qualities  of  Scipio  ;  and  he  observes,  that  as  his  writ- 
ings were  to  be  perused  by  the  Romans,  who  were 
perfectly  well  acquainted  with  all  the  particulars  of 
this  great  man's  life,  he  could  not  fail  of  being  con- 
rictea  bv  them,  should  he  venture  to  advance  any 
falsehood  ;  an  affront,  to  which  it  is  not  probable  that 
an  author,  who  has  ever  so  little  regard  for  his  repu- 
tation, would  expose  himself,  especially  if  no  advan- 
tage was  to  accrue  to  him  from  it. 

VVe  have  aleady  observed,  that  Scipio  had  never 
given  in  to  the  fashionable  debaucheries  and  excesses 
to  which  the  young  people  at  Rome  to  generally 
abandoned  the'msf  Ives.  But  he  was  sufficiently  com- 
pensated for  this  self-denial  of  all  destructive  plea- 
iures,  by  the  vigorous  health  he  enjoyed  all  the  rest 
of  his  life,  which  enabled  him  to  taste  pleasure  of  a 


i  K»TI^V*-TIC  T.C  «-J 
*  Or,  13.UOOI.  uerling. 
Vou  I.-17 


. 
•  Or,  3.37W.  tterlinj. 


much  purer  and  more  exalted  kind,  and  to  perform 
the  great  actions  that  reflected  so  much  glory  ujxjo 
him. 

Hunting,  which  was  hi*  darling  exercise,  contributed 
also  very  much  to  invigorate  his  constitution,  and 
enabled  him  also  to  endure  the  hardest  toils.  Mace- 
donia, whither  he  followed  his  father,  gave  him  an 
opportunity  of  indulging  to  the  utmost  of  his  desire 
his  passion  in  this  respect  ;  for  the  chase  which  was 
the  usual  diversion  of  the  Macedonian  monarch?, 
having  been  laid  aside  for  some  years  on  account  o«~ 
the  wars,  Scipio  found  there  an  incredible  quantity 
of  game  of  even-  kind.  Paulus  yEmilius,  studious  of 
procuring  his  son  virtuous  pleasures  of  every  kind,  io 
order  to  divert  his  mind  from  those  which  reason  pro- 
•  hihits,  gave  him  full  liberty  to  indulge  himself  in  his 
j  favourite  sport,  during  all  the  time  that  the  Roman 
i  forces  continued  in  that  country,  after  the  victory  he 
had  gained  over  Perseus.  The  illustrious  youth  em- 
1  ployed  his  leisure  hours  in  an  exercise  which  suited 
so  well  his  age  and  inclination ;  and  was  as  successful 
in  this  innocent  war  against  the  beasts  of  Macedonia, 
as  his  father  had  been  in  that  which  he  had  carried 
on  against  the  inhabitants  of  the  country. 

It  was  at  Scipio's  return  from  Macedon,  that  be 
met  with  Poly biug  in  Rome;  and  contracted  the  strict 
friendship  with  him,  which  was  afterwards  so  benefi- 
cial to  our  young  Roman;  and  did  him  almost  as 
much  honour  in  after-ages  as  all  his  conquests.  We 
find,  from  history,  that  Polybius  lived  with  the  two 
brothers.  One  day,  when  himself  and  Scipio  we-re 
alone,  the  latter  unbosomed  himself  freely  to  him,  and 
complained,  but  in  the  mildest  and  most  gentle  terms, 
that  he,  in  their  conversations  at  table,  always  direct- 
ed himself  to  his  brother  Fabius,  and  never  to  him. 
Jam  Sfnsilile,  says  he,  that  this  indifference  arises 
from  your  sttpposing,  with  all  our  citizens,  that  1  am 
a  heedless  young  man,  and  wholly  averse  to  the  taste 
which  now  prevails  in  Rome,  because  1  do  not  devote 
myself  to  the  studies  of  the  bar,  nor  cultivate  the  gra- 
ces of  elocution.  But  how  should  I  do  this?  1  am 
told  perpetually,  that  the  Romans  expect  a  general, 
and  not  an  orator  from  the  house  of  the  Scifyos.  1 
will  confess  to  you  (pardon  the  sincerity  with  which 
I  reveal  my  thoughts]  that  your  coldness  and  indiffe- 
rence grieve  me  exceedingly.  Polybius,  surprised  at 
this  unexpected  address,  made  Scipio  the  kindest 
answer;  and  assured  the  illustrious  youth,  that  though 
he  generally  directed  himself  to  his  brother,  yet  this 
was  not  out  of  disrespect  to  him,  but  only  because 
Fabius  was  the  eldest ;  not  to  mention  (continued 
Polvbius),  that,  knowing  that  you  possessed  but  one 
soul,  I  conceived  that  I  addressed  both  when  I  spoke 
to  either  of  you.  He  then  assured  Scipio,  that  he  wa» 
entirely  nt  his  command;  that  with  regard  to  the  sci- 
ences, for  which  he  discovered  the  happiest  genius, 
he  would  have  opportunities  sufficient  to  improve 
himself  in  them  from  the  great  number  of  learnedGre- 
cians  who  resorted  daily  to  Rome  :  but  that  as  to  the 
art  of  war,  which  was  properly  his  profession,  and 
his  favourite  study,  he  (Polybius)  might  be  of  some 
little  service  to  him.  He  had  no  sooner  spoke  these 
words  than  Scipio,  grasping  his  hand  in  a  kind  of  rap- 
ture ;  O  when,  says  he,  shall  I  see  the  happy  day, 
when,  disengagedfrom  all  other  avocations,  and  tiring 
with  me,  you  will  be  so  much  my  friend,  as  to  direct 
your  endeavours  to  improve  my  understanding  and 
regulate  my  affections  1  It  is  then  J  shall  thtnk 
mysflfu-orthy  of  my  illustrious  ancestors.  From  that 
time  Polybius,  overjoyed  to  see  so  vounga  man  breathe 
such  noble  sentiments,  devoted  himself  particularly 
to  oor  Scipio,  who  ever  after  paid  him  as  much  rer- 
erence  as  if  he  had  been  his  father. 

However,  Scipio  did  not  esteem  Polybius  only  as 
an  excellent  historian,  but  valued  him  much  more, 
and  reaped  much  greater  advantages  from  him,  as  an 
able  warrior  and  a  profound  politician.  Accordingly, 
he  consulted  him  on  even-  occasion,  and  always  took 
his  advice,  even  when  he  was  at  the  h«-ad  of  his  army  ; 
concerting  in  private  with  Polybius  all  the  operntioni 
of  the  campaign,  all  the  movements  of  the  forces,  a'J 
enterprises  against  the  enemy,  and  the  several  ater 
sure*  proper  lor  rendering  them  MirceMfnl. 


130 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


In  a  word,  it  was  the  common  report,  that  our 
illustrious  Roman  dfd  not  perform  any  great  or  good 
notion  without  being  under  some  obligation  to  Poly- 
bius  ;  nor  even  commit  an  error,  except  when  he  acted 
without  consulting  him. 

I  request  the  reader  to  excuse  this  lon<*  digression, 
which  may  be  thought  foreign  to  my  subject,  as  I  am 
•not  writing  the  Roman  history.  However,  it  appear- 
ed to  me  so  well  adapted  to  the  general  design  I  pro- 
pose to  myself  in  this  work,  viz.  the  cultivating  and 
improving"  the  minds  of  youth,  that  I  could  not  forbear 
introducing  it  here,  though  I  was  sensible  this  is  not 
directly  its  proper  place.  And  indeed,  these  examples 
show,  how  important  it  is  that  young  people  should 
receive  a  liberal  and  virtuous  education;  and  the  great 
benefit  they  reap,  by  frequenting  and  corresponding 
early  with  persons  of  merit;  for  these  were  the  foun- 
dations whereon  were  built  the  fame  and  glory  which 
have  rendered  Scipio  immortal.  But  above  all,  how 
noble  a  model  for  onr  age  (in  which  the  most  incon- 
siderable and  even  trifling  concerns  often  create  feuds 
and  animosities  between  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
disturb  the  peace  of  families)  is  the  generous  disinter- 


irgest  sums  upoi 
passage  of  Polybius  had  escaped  me,  by  its  not  being 
inserted  in  the  folio  edition  of  his  works.  It  belongs 
indeed  naturally  to  that  book,  where,  treating  of  the 
taste  for  so  I  id  glory,  I  mentioned  the  con  tempt  in  which 
the  ancients  held"  riches,  and  the  excellent  use  they 
made  of  them.  I  therefore  thought  myself  indispensa- 
bly obliged  to  restore,  on  this  occasion,  to  young  stu- 
dents, what  I  could  not  but  blame  myself  for  omitting 
elsewhere. 

The  History  of  the  Family  »nd  Posterity  of  Masinissa. 

I  promised,  after  finishing  what  related  to  the  re- 
public of  Carthage,  to  return  to  the  family  and  pos- 
terity of  Masinissa.  This  piece  of  history  forms  a 
considerable  part  of  that  of  Africa,  and  therefore  is 
not  quite  foreign  to  my  subject. 

From  the  time  that  Masinissa  had 
A.  M.  3875.  declared  for  the  Romans  under  the 
A.  Rom.  601.  first  Scipio,  he  had  always  adhered  to 
that  honourable  alliance,  with  an  al- 
most unparalleled  zeal  and  fidelity.  Finding  his  end 
approaching,  he  wrote  to  the  proconsul  of  Africa,  un- 
der whose  standards  the  younger  Scipio  then  fought, 
to  desire  that  that  Roman  might  be  sent  to  him;  add- 
ing, that  he  should  die  with  satisfaction,  if  he  could 
but  expire  in  his  arms,  after  having  made  him  executor 
to  his  will.  But  believing  that  he  should  be  dead 
before  it  could  be  possible  for  him  to  receive  this  con- 
solation, he  sent  for  his  wife  and  children,  and  spoke 
to  them  as  follows:  Iknowno  other  nation  but  the  Ro- 
mans, and,  among  this  nation,  no  otherjiimily  but  that 
of  the  Scipios.  I  now,  in  my  expiring  moments,  em- 
power Scipio  JEmilianus  to  dispose,  in  an  absolute 
manner,  of  all  my  possessions,  and  to  divide  my  king- 
dom among  my  children.  I  require,  that  whatever 
Scipio  may  decree,  shall  be  executed  as  punctually  as 
if  I  myself  had  appointed  it  by  my  will.  After  saying 
these  words,  he  breathed  his  last,  being  upwards  of 
ninety  years  of  age.2 

This  prince,3  during  his  youth,  had  met  with  strange 
reverses  of  fortune,  having;  been  dispossessed  of  his 
kingdom,  obliged  to  lly  from  province  to  province, 
and  a  thousand  times  in  danger  of  his  lite.  Being 
supported,  says  the  historian,  by  the  divine  protection, 
he  was  afterwards  favoured  till  his  death,  with  a 
perpetual  series  of  prosperity,  unruffled  by  any  sinister 
accident;  for  he  not  only  recovered  his  own  kingdom, 
but  added  to  it  that  of  Syphax  his  enemy;  and  ex- 
ten  ling  his  dominions  from  Mauritania,  as  far  as 
f'yrene,  he  became  the.  most  powerful  prince  of  all 
Africa.  He  was  blessed,  till  he  left  the  world,  with 
the  greatest  health  and  vigour,  which  doubtless  was 
owing  to  his  extreme  temperance,  and  the  care  he  had 
taken  to  inure  himself  to  fatigue.  Though  ninety 


i   Pausan.  in  Arcad.  1.  Tiii.  p.  505. 
•  App.  |>  65.    Vkl.  Max.  1.  T.  c.  2. 


*  App.  p.  05. 


years  of  age,  he  performed  all  the  exercises  used  bj 
young  men,1  and  always  rode  without  a  saddle;  and 
Polybius  observes  (a  circumstance  preserved  by  Plu- 
tarch).* that  the  day  after  a  great  victory  over  the  Car- 
thaginians, Masinissa  was  seen,  sitting  at  the  door  of 
his  tent,  eating  a  piece  of  brown  bread. 

He  left  fifty-four  sons,6  of  whom  three  only  were 
legitimate,  viz.  Micipsa,  Gulussa,  and  Mastanabal. 
Scipio  divided  the  kingdom  between  these  three,  and 
gave  considerable  possessions  to  the  rest;  but  the 
two  last  dying  soon  after,  Micipsa  became  sole  pos- 
sessor of  these  extensive  dominions.  He  had  two 
sons,  Adherbal  and  Hiempsal.and  with  them  he  edu- 
cated in  his  palace  Jugurtha  his  nephew,  Mastan- 
abal's  son,  and  took  as  much  care  of  him  as  he  did 
of  his  own  children.  This  last-mentioned  prince 
possessed  several  eminent  qualities,7  which  gained 
him  universal  esteem.  Jugurtha,  who  was  finely 
shaped  and  very  handsome,  of  the  most  delicate  wit 
and  the  most  solid  judgment,  did  not  devote  himself 
as  young  men  commonly  do,  to  a  life  of  luxury  and 
pleasure.  He  used  to  exercise  himself  with  persons 
of  his  own  age,  in  running,  riding,  and  throwing  the 
javelin;  and  though  he  surpassed  all  his  companions, 
there  was  not  one  of  them  hut  loved  him.  The  chase 
was  bis  only  delight;  but  it  was  that  of  lions  and 
other  savage  beasts.  To  finish  his  character,  he  ex- 
celled in  all  things,  and  spoke  very  little  of  himself; 
Plurimumfacere,  et  minimum  ipse  de  se  loqui. 

Merit  so  conspicuous,  and  so  generally  acknow- 
ledged, began  to  excite  some  anxiety  in  Micipsa.  He 
saw  himself  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  his  children 
very  young.  He  knew  the  prodigious  lengths  which 
ambition  is  capable  of  going,  when  a  crown  is  in 
view;8  and  that  a  man,  with  talents  much  interior  to 
those  of  Jugurtha,  might  be  dazzled  by  sc  glittering 
a  temptation,  especially  when  united  with  such  fa- 
vourable circumstances.  In  order  therefore  to  remove 
a  competitor  so  dangerous  with  regard  to  his  children, 
he  gave  Jugurtha  the  command  of  the  forces  which 
he  sent  to  the  assistance  of  the  Romans,  who  at  that 
time  were  besieging  Numantia,  under  the  conduct  of 
Scipio.  Knowing  Jugurtha  was  actuated  by  the 
most  heroic  bravery. he  flattered  himself,  that  lie  pro- 
bably would  rush  upon  danger,  and  lose  his  life. 
However,  he  was  mistaken.  This  young  prince  join- 
ed to  an  undaunted  courage  the  utmost  presence  of 
mind;  and,  a  circumstance  very  rarely  found  in  per- 
sons of  his  age,  he  preserved  a  just  medium  between 
a  timorous  foresight  and  an  impetuous  rashness.9  In 
this  campaign,  he  won  the  esteem  and  friendship  of 
the  whole  army.  Scipio  sent  him  back  to  his  uncle 
with  letters  of  recommendation,  and  the  most  advan- 
tageous testimonials  of  his  conduct,  after  having  given 
him  very  prudent  ad\ice  with  regard  to  the  course 
which  he  ought  to  pursue:  for,  knowing  mankind  so 
well,  he  in  all  probability  had  discovered  certain 
sparks  of  ambition  in  that  prince,  which  he  feared 
would  one  day  break  out  into  a  flame. 

Micipsa,  pleased  with  the  high  character  that  was 
sent  him  of  his  nephew,  changed  his  behaviour  to- 
wards him,  and  resolved,  if  possible,  to  win  his  af- 
fection by  kindness.  Accordingly  he  adopted  him; 
and  by  his  will,  made  him  joint-heir  with  his  two 
sons.  When  he  found  his  end  approaching,  he  sent 


«  Cicero  introduces  Cato  upeakinjr  as  follows  of  Masinis 
sa's  vigorous  constitution  :  Arbitror  le  audire,  Scipio  /tappet 
tuns  Masinissa  qua-,  facial  hodie  nonagmta  annas  natus: 
cum  ingressus  iterpedibus  sit,  in  ei/uum  tnnnino  nun  aecen- 
dere  ;  cum  equo,  ex  1191/0  nan  descender! ;  nullo  imbre,  nulU 
Jrigore  addvci,  vt  capite  operto  sit ;  swimam  ctse  in  eo  cor- 
porii siccilatem.  Jlaque  ciequi  omnia  rcgis  officia  et  mnnt- 
ra.  De  Senectuto. 

»  An  »eni  gercnda  nit  Resp.  p.  791. 

•  Appian.  p.  iTi.     Viil.  Max.  I.  v  c.  2. 

t  All  this  history  of  Jujurtha  ia  extracted  from  Sallim. 

•  Terrehat  eum  nut  urn  mortnlium  avida  imperii,  et  pn»» 
cops  ad  explendam  animi  cupidinem  :  pra>trroa  opportunitai 
suu1    liberorumque  irtatis,  quiB   etiam   mediucres  virus  «p» 
pnpdic  trannvercos  apit.     Sallust. 

•  An  sane,  quod  diffirillimum  imprimia  pgl,e«  pra'lio  «tre- 
nuus  crat,et  bonui  concilio  ;  quorum  nlterum  ex  providentii 
timorem,  ahcrum  ex  audacia  tcmeritatem  adt'crro  plumm 
que  iolol. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


131 


for  all  three,  and  bid  them  draw  near  hi»  bed,  where, 
.n  presence  of  the  whole  court,  he  put  Jugurtha  in 
mind  of  all  his  kindness  to  him;  conjuring-  him,  in 
the  name  of  the  gods,  to  defend  and  protect,  on  all 
occasions,  his  chiUren;  who.  being  before  related  to 
nim  by  the  ties  of  blood,  were  now  become  his  breth- 
ren, by  his  (Micipsa's)  bounty.  He  told  him,1  that 
neither  arms  nor  ^reasure  constitute  the  strength  of 
a  kingdom,  but  friends,  who  are  not  won  by  arms 
•or  gold,  but  by  real  services  and  inviolable  6delity. 
Now  where  (says  he)  can  we  find  better  friends  than 
our  brothers?  And  how  can  that  man,  who  becomes 
an  enemy  to  his  relations,  repose  any  confidence  in, 
or  depend  on,  strangers?  He  exhorted  his  sons  to 
par  the  highest  reverence  to  Jugurtha;  and  to  dispute 
no  otherwise  with  him,  than  by  their  endeavour  to 
equal,  and,  if  possible,  to  surpass  his  exalted  merit. 
He  concluded  with  entreating  them  to  observe  for 
ever  an  inviolable  attachment  towards  the  Romans; 
and  to  consider  them  as  their  benefactor,  their  patron, 
and  master.  A  few  (lavs  after  this,  Micipsa  expired. 
Jugurtha  soon  threw  oft"  the  mask, 
A.  M.  3887.  and  began  by  ridding  himself  of  Hi- 
A.  Rom.  631.  einpsal,  who  had  expressed  himself 

to  him  with  great  freedom,  and  there- 
fore he  caused  him  to  be  murdered.  This  bloody 

action    proved    but   too   evidently  to 

A.  M.  3888.     Adherbal  what  he  himself  might  natu- 

A.  Rom.  632.     rally  tVar.     Xumidia  is  now  divided, 

and  sides  severally  with  the  two  bro- 
thers. Mighty  armies  are  raised  by  each  party. 
Adherbal,  after  losing  the  greatest  part  of  his  for- 
tresses, is  vanquished  in  battle,  and  forced  to  make 
Rome  his  asvluni.  However,  this  gave  Jugurtha  no 
vtry  great  uneasiness,  as  he  kneiv  that  money  was 
all-powerful  in  that  citv.  He  therefore  sent  deputies 
thither,  with  orders  for  them  to  bribe  the  chief  sena- 
tors. In  the  first  audience  to  which  they  were  intro- 
duced, Adherbal  represented  the  unhappy  condition 
to  which  he  was  reduced,  the  injustice  and  barbarity 
of  Jugurtha,  the  murder  of  his  brother,  the  loss  of 
almost  all  his  fortresses;  but  the  circumstance  on 
which  he  laid  the  greatest  stress  was,  the  commands 
of  his  dying  father,  riz.  to  put  his  whole  confidence 
in  the  Romans;  declaring,  that  the  friendship  of  this 
people  would  be  a  stronger  support  both  to  hii.-,self  &nd 
his  kingdom,  than  all  the  troops  and  treasures  in  the 
universe.  His  speech  was  of  a  great  length,  and 
extremely  pathetic.  Jugurtha 's  deputies  made  only 
the  following  answer:  That  Hiempsal  had  been  kill- 
ed by  the  Xumidians,  became  of  his  great  cruelty; 
that  Adherbal  was  the  aggressor,  and  vet,  alter  having 
been  vanquished  was  come  to  make  complaints,  be- 
cause he  had  not  committed  all  the  excesses  he  de- 
•ired;  that  their  sovereign  entreated  the  senate  to 
form  a  judgment  of  his  behaviour  and  conduct  in 
Africa,  from  that  he  had  «hown  at  Nuraantia;  and 
to  lay  a  greater  stress  on  his  actions,  than  on  the  ac- 
cusations of  his  enemies.  But  these  ambassadors 
had  secretly  employed  an  eloquence  much  more  pre- 
ralent  than  that  of  words,  which  had  not  proved  in- 
effectual. The  whole  assembly  was  for  Jugurtha,  a 
few  senators  excepted,  who  were  not  so  void  of  ho- 
nour as  to  be  corrupted  by  monev.  The  senate  came 
to  this  resolution.  That  commissioners  should  be  sent 
from  Rome,  to  divide  the  provinces  equally  upon  the 
»pot  between  the  two  brothers.  The  reader  will  na- 
turally suppose,  that  Jugurtha  was  not  sparing  of  his 
treasure  on  this  occasion:  the  division  was  made  to 
his  advantage;  and  yet  a  specious  appearance  of 
equity  was  preserved. 

This  first  success  of  Jugurtha  augmented  his  cou- 
rage, and  increased  his  boldness.  Accordingly,  he 
attacked  his  brother  bv  open  force;  and  whilst  the 
latter  loses  his  time  in  sending  deputations  to  the 
Romans,  he  storms  several  fortresses;  carries  on  his 
conquests;  and,  after  defeating  Adherbal,  besieges 


t  Non  pxrrcitm,  neque  thenauri.  praesidia  regni  tunt,  re- 
Him  amiri ;  quo*  neque  armis  cohere,  neque  auro  parare 
•  uea«  ;  offirio  et  fiHe  pariuntur.  ftuis  autern  amicior  qu4m 
rater  fratri  ?  aut  quern  alienum  fidum  inveniei,  li  tui«  hoc- 
til  fuens? 


him  in  Cirtha,  the  capital  of  his  kingdom.  -During 
this  interval,  ambassadors  arrived  from  Koine,  \v'tfi 
orders,  in  the  name  of  the  senate  and  people,  to  the 
two  kings,  to  lay  down  their  arms,  and  cease  all  hos- 
tilities. Jugurtha,  alter  protesting  that  he  would 
obey,  with  the  most  profound  reverence  and  submis- 
sion, the  commands  of  the  Roman  people,  added 

|  that  he  did  not  believe  it  was  thtir  intention  to  hinder 
him  from  defending  his  own  life, against  thetreache- 

{  rous  snares  which  his  brother  had  laid  for  it.  He  con- 
cluded with  saying,  that  he  would  send  ambassador* 

I  forthwith  lo  Rome, to  inform  the  senateof  hisconduct. 
By  this  vague  answer  he  eluded  their  orders,  and 
would  not  even  permit  the  deputies  to  wait  upon  Ad- 
herbal. 

Though  the  latter  was  so  closely  blocked  up  in  his 
capital,  he  yet  found  means  to  send  to  Rome,*  to 
implore  the  assistance  of  the  Romans  against  his 
brother,  who  had  besieged  him  five  months,  and  in- 
tended to  take  away  his  life.  Some  senators  were  of 
opinion,  that  war  ought  to  be  proclaimed  immediately 
against  Jugurtha;  butstill  his  influence  prevailed, and 
the  Romans  only  ordered  an  embassy  to  be  sent, com- 
posed of  senators  of  the  highest  distinction,  among 
whom  was  /Emilius  Scaurus,  a  factious  man,  who 
had  a  great  ascendant  over  the  nobility, and  concealed 
the  blackest  vices  under  the  specious  appearance  of 
virtue.  Jugurtha  was  terrified  at  first;  but  he  again 
found  an  opportunity  to  elude  their  demands,  and  ac- 
cordingly sent  them  back  without  coming  to  any 
conclusion.  Upon  this,  Adherbal,  who  had  lost  all 

I  hopes,  surrendered  upon  condition  of  having  his  lite 

{spared;  nevertheless,  he  was  immediately  murdered 
with  a  great  number  of  JNumidians. 

But  though  the  greatest  part  of  the  people  at  Rome 
were  struck  with  horror  at  this  news,  Jugurtha's 
money  again  obtained  him  defenders  in  the  senate. 
However,  C.  Memmius,  the  tribune  of  the  people,  an 
active  man, and  one  who  hated  the  nobility,  prevailed 
with  the  people,  not  to  suffer  so  horrid  a  crime  to  go 

j  unpunished;  and,  accordingly,  war  being  proclaimed 

I  against  Jugurtha,  Calpuroius;  Bestia  the  consul  uas 
appointed  to  carry  it  on.  He  was  endued  with  t  \- 

j  cellent  qualities,3  but  they  were  all 
depraved  and  rendered  useless  bv  his       A.  M.  3894. 
avarice.     Scaurus  set  out  with  him.     A.  Rom.  638. 
They  at  first  took  several  towns;  but    Ant.  J.C.  110. 

•  Jugurtha's  bribes  checked  the  pro- 
gress of  these  conquests;  and  Scaurus  himself,*  who 
till  now  had  expressed  the  strongest  animosity  against 
this  prince,  could  not  resist  so  powerful  an  attack. 
A  treaty  was  therefore  concluded;  Jugurtha  feigned 
to  submit  to  the  Romans,  and  thirty  elephants,  some 
horses,  with  a  very  inconsiderable  sura  of  money,  were 
delivered  to  the  questor. 

But  now  the  indignation  of  the  people  in  general 

,  at  Rome  displayed  itself  in  the  strongest  manner. 
Mimmius  the  tribune  inflamed  them  by  his  speeches. 
He  caused  Cassius,  who  was  pnetor,  to  be  appointed 

I  to  attend  Jugurtha;  and  to  engage  him  to. come  to 
Rome,  under  the  guarantee  of  the  Romans,  in  order 

I  that  an  inquiry  might  be  made  in  his  presence,  who 
those  persons  wen.  that  had  taken  bribes.  Accord- 
ing!}' Jugurtha  was  forced  to  come  to  Rome.  The 
sight  of  him  raised  the  anger  of  the  people  still  high- 
er; but  a  tribune  having  been  bribed,  he  prolonged 
the  session,  and  at  last  dissolved  it.  A  Numidian 
prince,  grandson  of  Masimssa,  called  Mas-iva,  being 
at  that  time  in  the  citv,  was  advised  to  solicit  for  Ju- 
gurtha's kingdom;  which,  coming  to  the  ears  of  the 


•  He  chose  two  of  the  nimblpit  of  those  who  had  followed 
him  into  Cirtha;  and  these,  induced  by  the  great  reward* 
he  promised  them,  and  pitying  his  unhappy  cirruni-ianros, 
undertook  to  pas*  through  the  enemy'*  ramp,  in  the  night, 
to  the  ne-iihbourinjf  thorr,  and- from  Ihenre  to  Rome.     £t 
iif  qui  una  Cirlam  profusernnt.  duos  marine  tmpigros  <ie- 
legit :  eta.  multa  pollitcndo   at  mi.*-rrando  cafum  »««i»,  con* 
frmat,  ttti  per  ko»tium  munilianet  nortu  adproiimum  mare, 
dan  Remain  ptrgertnt.     Sallu'l. 

'  Muliip  bonequr  artec  animi  et  eorpori<  erant,  qua*  am- 
nff  a varitia  prepediehal. 

*  Ma«rniludiue  pecunic  a  bono   honestoque    in   pravual 
ibitrictui  ett. 


132 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


fetter,  he  caused  him  to  be  assassinated  in  the  midst 
of  Rome.  The  murderer  was  seized  and  delivered 
up  to  the  civil  magistrate,  and  Jugurtha  was  com- 
manded to  depart  Italy.  Upon  leaving  the  city,  he 
cast  bark  his  eyes  several  times  towards  it,  and 
•aid,  Home  iconld  sell  itself,  could  it  meet  with  a  pur- 
chaser; and  were  one  to  be  found,  it  were  inevitably 
ruined.1 

And  now  the  war  broke  out  anew.  At  first  the  in- 
dolence, or  perhaps  connivance,  of  Albinus  the  consul, 
niade  it  go  on  very  slowly;  but  afterwards,  when  he 
returned  to  Rome  to  hold  the  public  assemblies,8  the 
Roman  army,  by  the  unskilfulness  of  his  brother  Au- 
lus,  having  marched  into  a  defile  from  whence  there 
was  no  getting  out,  surrendered  ignominiously  to  the 
enemy,  who  forced  the  Romans  to  submit  to  the  cere- 
mony of  passing  under  the  yoke,  and  made  them  en- 
gage to  leave  Amnidia  in  ten  days. 

The  reader  will  naturally  imagine  in  what  light  so 
shameful  a  peace,  concluded  without  the  authority  of 
the  peoy  le,  wasconsidered  at  Rome.  They  could  not 
flatter  themselves  with  the  hope  of  being  successful  in 
this  war,  till  the  conduct  of  it  was  given  lo  L.  Mttel- 
lus  the  consul.  To  all  the  rest  of  the  virtues  which 
constitute  the  great  captain,3  he  added  a  perfect  disre- 
gard of  wealth;  a  quality  most  essentially  requisite 
•gainst  such  an  enemy  as  Jugurtha,  who  hitherto  had 
•Iwaysbeen  victorious, rather  by  money  than  hissword. 
But  the  African  monarch  found  Meteflus  as  invincible 
in  this,  as  in  all  other  respects.  He  therefore  was 
forced  toventurehia  life, and  exerthis  utmost  bravery, 
through  the  defect  of  an  expedient  which  now  began 
to  fail  him.  Accordingly,  he  signalized  himself  in  a 
surprising  manner;  and  showed  in  this  campaign,  all 
that  could  be  expected  from  the  courage,  abilities, and 
attention,  of  an  illustrious  general,  to  whom  despair 
adds  new  vigour,  and  suggests  new  lights:  he  was. 
however,  unsuccessful,  because  opposed  by  a  consul, 
who  did  not  suffer  the  most  inconsiderable  error  to^es- 
cape  him,  nor  ever  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  taking 
advantage  of  the  enemy. 

Jugurtha's  greatest  concern  wag,  how  to  secure  him- 
•elf  from  traitors.  From  the  time  he  had  been  told 
that  Bimilcar,  in  whom  he  reposed  the  utmost  confi- 
dence, had  a  design  upon  his  life,  he  enjored  no  peace. 
He  did  not  believe  himself  safe  anv  where;  but  all 
things,  by  day  as  well  as  by  night,  trie  citizen  as  well 
•s  the  foreigner,  were  suspected  bv  him ;  and  the 
blackest  terrors  sat  for  ever  brooding  over  his  mind. 
He  never  got  a  wink  of  sleep,  except  by  stealth;  and 
often  changed  his  bed  in  a  manner  unbecoming  his 
rank.  Starting  sometimes  from  his  slumbers,  he  would 
•natch  his  sword,  and  utter  loud  cries;  so  strongly 
was  he  haunted  by  fear,  which  almost  drove  him  to 
frenzy. 

Marius  was  Metellus's  lieutenant.  His  boundless 
ambition  induced  him  to  endeavour  to  lessen  his  gene- 
ral's character  secretly  in  the  minds  of  his  soldiers; 
•nd  becoming  soon  his  professed  enemy  and  slanderer, 
he  at  last,  by  the  most  grovelling  and  perfidious  arts, 
prevailed  so  far  as  to  supplant  Metellus,  and  get  liim- 
•elf  nominated  in  his  room,  to  carry  on  the  war  against 
Jugurtha.  With  what  strength  of  mind  soever  Metel- 
lus might  be  endowed  on  other  occasions,  he  was 
totally  dejected  by  this  unforeseen  blow,  which  even 
forced  tears  from  his  eyes,  and  compelled  him  to  utter 
•uch  expressions  as  were  altogether  unworthy  so  great 
a  man.4  There  was  something  very  dark  and  vile  in 
Miirius's  conduct,  and  displays  ambition  in  its  native 
•nd  genuine  colours,  and  shows  that  it  extinguishes, 
m  those  who  abandon  themselves  to  it,  all  sense  of 
honour  ard  integrity.  Metellus  having  anxiously  en- 


i  Postqua**  Rom*  egrusn*  tit,  tape  tacitut  to  rcspidau, 
ftntremo  diiisse:  Urlit-m  vcnalrin  el  mature  perituram,  li 
einpiiirrni  iiivenerit. 

*  For  elect  in;  magistrates.     Sal. 

*  In  \IIIIH, ham  proficisciiur,  ma°na  »pe  civium  ciim  prop- 
ter  aries  bora*,  turn  maxime  quod  advcKum  diviuus  invi* 
turn  nnimum  fierebat. 

4  <luiliu-  rebus  supra  bonum  atone  honcatum  perculsu*, 
•eque  lachiymat  tenere,  neque  moderari  liniuam:  vir  cgre- 
fiui  in  aliii'artibui,  nimii  molliler  egritudinem  pall. 


deavoured   to  avoid  a  man  whose  sight  he  could  no* 
bear,  arrived    in    Rome,  and    was   re~- 
ceived   there  with  universal  acclama-       A.  M.  3898 
tions.     A  triumph  was  decreed  him,     A.  Rom.  642 
and   the  surname  of  JVumidicus  con- 
ferred upon  him. 

I  thought  it  would  be  proper  to  reserve  for  the  Ro- 
man history,  a  particular  account  of  the  events  that 
happened  in  Africa,  under  Metellus  and  Marius,  all 
ot  which  are  very  circumstantially  described  In  Sal- 
lust,  in  his  admirable  history  of  Jugurtha.  I  therefor* 
hasten  to  the  conclusion  ot  this  war. 

Jugurtha  being  greatly  distressed  in  his  affairs,  had 
recourse  to  Bocchus,  king  of  Mauritania,  whose  daugh 
ter  he  had  married.  This  country  extends  from  J\u- 
midia,  as  far  as  beyond  the  shores  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean opposite  to  Spain.5  The  Roman  name  was 
scarce  known  in  it,  and  the  people  were  absolutelv  un- 
known to  the  Romans.  Jugurtha  insinuated  to  his 
father-in- law,  that  should  he  sutler  Auniulia  to  be  con- 
quered, his  kingdom  would  doubtless  be  involved  ia 
its  ruin;  especially  as  the  Romans,  who  were  sworn 
enemies  to  monarchy,  seemed  to  have  vowed  the  de- 
struction of  all  the  thrones  in  the  universe.  He  there- 
fore prevailed  with  Bocchus  to  enter  into  a  league 
with  him;  and  accordingly  received,  on  different  oc- 
casions, very  considerable  succours  from  that  king. 

This  confederacy,  which  was  cemented  on  either 
side  by  no  other  tie  than  that  of  interest,  had  never 
been  strong;  and  a  last  defeat  which  Jugurtha  met 
with  broke  at  once  all  the  bands  of  it.  Bocchus  now 
meditated  the  dark  design  of  delivering  up  his  son-in- 
law  to  the  Romans.  For  this  purpose  he  desired  Ma- 
rius to  send  him  a  trusty  person.  Sylla,  who  was  an 
officer  of  uncommon  merit,  and  served  under  him  as 
questor,  was  thought  every  way  qualified  for  this  ne- 
gociation.  He  was  not  afraid  to  put  himself  into  the 
hands  of  the  barbarian  king;  and  accordingly  set  out 
for  his  court.  Being  arrived,  Bocchus,  who,  like  the 
rest  of  his  countrymen,  did  not  pride  himself  on  sin- 
cerity, and  was  for  ever  projecting  new  designs,  debat- 
ed within  himself,  whetlier'it  would  not  be  his  interest 
to  deliver  up  Sylla  to  Jugurtha.  He  was  a  long  time 
fluctuating  in  this  uncertainty,  and  conflicting  with  a 
contrariety  of  sentiments:  and  the  sudden  changes 
which  displayed  themselves  in  his  countenance,  in  his 
air,  and  in  his  whole  person,  showed  evidently  how 
strongly  his  mind  was  affected.  At  length  returning 
to  his  lirst  design,  he  made  his  terms  with  Sylla,  and 
delivered  up  Jugurtha  into  his  hands,  who  was  sent 
immediately  to  Marius. 

Sylla,6  says  Plutarch,7  acted  on  this  occasion,  like 
a  young  man  fired  with  a  strong  thirst  of  glory',  the 
sweets  of  which  he  had  just  begun  to  taste.  Instead 
of  ascribing  to  the  general  under  whom  he  fought  all 
the  honour  of  this  event,  as  his  duty  required,  and 
which  ought  to  be  an  inviolable  maxim,  he  reserved 
the  greater  part  of  it  to  himself,  and  had  a  ring  made, 
which  he  always  wore,  wherein  he  was  represented 
receiving  Jugurtha  from  the  hands  of  Bocchus;  ami 
this  ring  he  used  ever  after  as  his  signet.  But  Ma- 
rius was  so  highly  exasperated  at  this  kind  of  insult 
that  he  could  never  forgive  him;  and  thiscircumstani 
gave  rise  to  the  implacable  hatred  between  these  tw 
Romans,  which  afterwards  broke  out  with  so  muck 
fury,  and  cost  the  republic  so  much  blood. 

Marius  entered  Rome  in  triumph,8 
exhibiting  such  a  spectacle  to  the  Ro-  A.  M.  3901 
mans,  as  they  could  scarce  beliere  A.  Ron  645 
they  saw,  when  it  passed  befor*  their  Ant.J.  C.  103 
eves;  I  mean  Jugurtha  in  chains: 
that  so  formidable  an  enemy,  during  whose  life,  thej 
had  not  dared  to  flatter  themselves  with  the  hopes  of 
being  able  to  put  an  end  to  this  war;  so  well  was  hit 
courage  sustained  by  stratagem  and  artifice,  and  hi 
genius  so  fruitful  in  finding  new  expedients,  even  whe» 
his  affairs  were  most  desperate.  We  are  told.  tha» 


•  Now  comprehending  Fez,  Morocco,  tic. 
«  Plut.  in  vit.  Marii. 

i  Oia  vioj  tiXi-ri/jo?  S«TI    -'   t,j    yiyiu/ui.?;,  iC«  Ijvij* 
Tfmtf  1-4  iitiy.iin*.     Tint  Praecept.  reip    gorend.  p   600 

•  Plot.  Fnecept.  reip.  gerend.  p.  806. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


133 


^ugurtha  ran  distracted,  as  he  was  walking  in  the 
triumph;  that  after  the  ceremony  was  ended,  he  was 
thrown  into  prison;  and  that  the  lie  tors  were  so  eager 
to  seize  his  robe,  that  they  rent  it  in  several  pieces,  and 
ore  away  the  tips  of  his  ears,  to  get  the  rich  jewels 
with  which  they  were  adorned.  In  this  condition,  he 
was  cast,  quite  naked,  and  in  the  utmost  terror,  into  a 
deep  dungeon,  where  he  spent  six  days  in  struggling 
with  hunger  and  the  fear  ol  death,  retaining  a  strong 
desire  oflife  to  his  last  g*spi  an  end,  continues  Plu- 
tarch, worthy  of  his  wicked  deeds,  Jugartha  having 
been  always  of  opinion,  that  the  greatest  crimes  might 
be  committed  to  satiate  his  ambition;  ingratitude, per- 
fidy, black  treachery,  and  inhuman  barbarity. 

Juba,  king  of  Mauritania,  reflected  so  much  honour 
ou  polite  literature  and  the  sciences,  that  I  could  not, 
without  impropriety,  omit  him  in  the  history  of  the  fa- 
uiilv  of  Masimssa,  to  whom  his  father,  who  also  was 
uamed  Juba,  was  great-grandson,  and  grandson  of 
Gulussa.  The  elder  Juba  signalized  himself  in  the 
war  between  Caesar  and  Pompey,  by  his  inviolable  at- 
tachment to  the  party  of  the  latter.  He  slew  himself 

after  the  battle  of  Thapsus,  in  which 

A.  M.  3959.     his  forcesand  those  of  Scipio  were  en- 

A.  Rom.  703.     tirelv  defeated.    Juba,  his  son,  then 

a  cliild,  was  delivered  up  to  the  con- 
queror, and  was  one  of  the  mo«t  conspicuous  ornaments 
of  his  triumph.  It  appears  from  history,  that  a  noble 
education  was  bestowed  upon  Juba  in  Rome,  where 


he  imbibed  such  a  variety  of  knowledge,  as  afterwards 
equalled  him  to  the  most  learned  among  the  Grecian*. 
He  did  not  leave  that  citv  till  he  went  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  father's  dominions.  Augustus  restored 
them  to  him,  when,  by  the  death  of 
Marc  Antony,  the  provinces  of  the  A.  M.  3974 
empire  were  absolutely  at  his  disposal.  A.  Rom.  719. 
Juba,  by  the  lenity  of  his  government  Ant.  J.  C.  30. 
gained  the  hearts  of  all  his  subjects: 
who,  out  of  a  grateful  sense  of  the  felicity  they  had  en- 
joyed during  nis  reign,  ranked  him  in  trie  number  of 
their  gods.  Pausamas  speaks  of  a  statue  which  the 
Athenians  erected  in  his  honour.  It  was  indeed  just, 
that  a  city,  which  had  been  consecrated  in  all  ages  to 
the  Muses,  should  give  public  testimonies  of  its  esteem 
for  a  king  who  made  so  bright  a  figure  among  the 
learned.  Suidas  ascribes  several  works  to  this  prince, 
of  which  only  the  fragments  are  now  extant.1  He  had 
written  the  history  ot  Arabia;  the  antiquities  of  Assy- 
ria, and  those  of  the  Romans:  the  history  of  theatre*, 
of  painting  and  painters;  of  the  nature  and  properties 
of  different  animals;  of  grammar,  and  similar  subjects; 
a  catalogue  of  all  which  is  given  in  Abbe  Sevin's  short 
dissertation  on  the  life  and  works  of  the  younger  Juba,* 
whence  I  have  extracted  these  few  particulars. 


i  In  voce  '!:£•(. 

*  Vol.  iv.  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of  Belles  Let. 
tres,  p.  457. 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


BOOK  III. 


This  honk  will  contain  the  history  of  the  Assyrian  empires 
both  of  Nineveh  ami  Babylon,  the  kingdom  of  the  Mede* 
and  the  kingdom  of  the  I.vdians. 

Pur  the  author's  Introduction  to  tliis  part  of  the  work,  see 
Preface,  page  il. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FIRST  EMPIRE  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


SF.CTION    I.— DURATION  OF  THAT  EMPIRE. 

THE  Assyrian  empire  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
most  powerful  in  the  world.  With  respect  to  its 
duration,  two  opinions  have  chiefly  prevailed.  Some 
authors,  as  Ctesias,  whose  opinion  is  followed  by 
Jn«tin,  sr»ve  i*  a  duration  of  1300  years:  others 
reduce  it  to  520,  of  which  number  is  Herodotus.  The 
diminution,  or  probably  the  interruption  of  power, 
whirh  happened  in  this  vast  empire,  might  possibly 
give  occasion  to  this  difference  of  opinions,  and  may 
perhaps  serve  in  some  measure  to  reconcile  them. 

The  history  of  those  early  times'  is  so  obscure,  the 
monuments  which  convey  it  down  to  us  so  contrary 
to  each  other,  and  the  systems  of  the  moderns  upon 

»  They  that  are  ruriout  to  make  deeper  researches  into 
tta  nutter,  raaj  read  UK  dissertations  of  Abbe  Bauier  and 


that  matter  so  different,  that  it  is  difficult  to  lay 
down  any  opinion  about  it,  as  certain  and  incontesta- 
ble. But  where  certainty  is  not  to  be  had,  I  suppose  • 
reasonable  person  will  be  satisfied  with  probability; 
and,  in  my  opinion,  a  man  can  hardly  be  deceived, 
if  he  makes  the  Assyrian  empire  equal  in  antiquity 
with  the  citv  of  Babylon,  its  capital.  Now  we  learn 
from  the  Holv  Scripture,  that  this  was  built  by  Nim- 
rod,  who  certainly  was  a  great  conqueror,  and  in  all 
probability  the  first  and  most  ancient  of  all  those  who 
have  ever  aspired  after  that  denomination. 

The  Babylonians,4  as  Callisthenes,  a  philosopher 
in  Alexander's  retinue,  wrote  to  Aristotle,  reckoned 
themselves  at  least  to  be  1903  years'  standing  whee 
that  prince  entered  triumphant  'into  Babylon,  *  hich 
makes  their  origin  reach  back  to  the  year  31"  the 
world  1771,  that  is  to  say,  115  years  after  the  deluge. 
This  computation  conies  within  a  few  years  of  the 
time  in  which  we  suppose  Nimrod  to  have  founded 
that  city.  Indeed,  this  testimony  of  Callisthenes,  as 
it  does  not  agree  with  any  other  accounts  of  that 
matter,  is  not  esteemed  authentic  by  the  learned:  but 
the  conformity  we  find  between  it  and  the  Holj 


M.  Freret  upon  the  Assyrian  empire,  in  the  Memoirs  of  the 
Academy  of  Belles  Ix-ltres;  fur  tlie  first  icee  Tome  3.  and 
for  the  "other.  Tome  5:   aa  also  what  Father  Tournemin* 
has  written  upon  this  subject  in  his  edition  of  Menuehins 
*  Porphyr.  apud  Simplic.  in  lib.  ii.  de  ccelo 
M 


134 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


Scriptures  gnould  make  us  regard  it.  Upon  these 
grounds,  I  think  we  may  allow  Nimrod  to  have  been 
the  founder  of  the  first'Assyrian  empire,  which  sub- 
sisted with  more  or  less  extent  and  glory  upwards  of 
1450  years,1  froin  the  time  of  Nimrod  to  that  of  Sar- 
danapalus,  the  last  king1,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  year 
of  the  world  1800  to  the  year  3257. 

NI.MROD.     He  is  the  same  with 
A.  M.  1800.     Belus,*  who  was    afterwards  wor- 
Ant.  J.  C.  2204.     shipped  as  a  god  under   that   ap- 
pellation. 

He  was  the  son  of  Chus,  grandson  of  Ham,  and 
great-grandson  of  Noah.  He  was,  says  the  Scripture. 
a  mighty  hunter  before  the  Lord.3  In  applying  himself 
to  this  laborious  and  dangerous  exercise,  he  had  two 
things  in  view;  the  first  was,  to  gain  the  people's 
affection  by  delivering  them  from  the  fury  and  dread 
of  wild  beasts;  the  next  was  to  train  up  numbers  of 
young  people  by  this  exercise  of  hunting  to  endure 
labour  and  hardship,  to  form  them  to  the  use  of  arms, 
to  inure  them  to  a  Kind  of  discipline  and  obedience, 
that  at  a  proper  time,  after  they  had  been  accustomed 
to  his  orders  and  seasoned  in  arms,  he  might  make 
use  of  them  for  other  purposes  more  serious  than 
hunting. 

In  ancient  history  we  find  some  footsteps  remaining 
of  this  artifice  of  Nimrod,  whom  the  writers  have 
confounded  with  Nimis.  his  son:  for  Diodorus  has 
these  words:*  JVinus,  the  most  ancient  of  the  Assyrian 
kings  mentioned  in  history, performed  great  actions. 
Being  naturally  of  a  warlike  disposition,  and  ambi- 
tions of  the  glory  that  results  from  valour,  he  armed 
a  considerable  number  of  youngmen,  that  were  brave 
and  vigorous  like  himself;  trained  them  up  a  Jong 
time  in  laborious  exercises  and  hardships,  and  by  that 
means  accustomed  them  to  bear  the  fatigues  of  war 
patiently,  and  to  face  dangers  with  courage  and  in- 
trepidity. 

What  the  same  author  adds,s  that  Ninus  entered 
into  an  alliance  with  the  king  of  the  Arabs,  and  joined 
forces  with  him,  is  a  piece  of  ancient  tradition,  which 
informs  us,  that  the  sons  of  Chus,and  bv  consequence 
the  brothers  of  Nimrpd,  all  settled  themselves  in 
Arabia,  along  the  Persian  Gulf,  from  Havilah  to  the 
Ocean  ?  and  lived  near  enough  to  their  brother  to  lend 
him  succours,  or  to  receive  them  from  'him.  And 
what  the  same  historian  farther  says  of  Ninus,  that 
he  was  the  first  king  of  the  Assyrians,  agrees  exactly 
with  what  the  Scripture  says  of  Nimrod,  that  he  began 
to  be  mighty  upon  the  earth;  that  is,  he  procured  him- 
»elf  settlements,  built  cities,  subdued  his  neighbours, 
united  different  people  under  one  and  the  same  au- 
thority, by  the  band  of  the  same  polity  and  the  same 
law?,  and  formed  them  into  one  state;  which,  for 
these  early  times,  was  of  a  considerable  extent  though 
bounded  by  the  rivers  Euphrates  and  Tigris;  and 
which  in  succeeding  ages,  made  new  acquisitions 
by  degrees,  and  at  length  extended  its  conquests 
very  far. 

The  capital  city  of  his  kingdom,  says  the  Scripture, 
was  Babylon.9  Most  of  the  profane  historians  ascribe 
the  founding  of  Babylon  to  Semiramis,7  others  to 
Belus.  It  is  evident,  that  both  the  one  and  the  other 
are  mistaken,  if  they. speak  of  the  first  founder  of 
that  city;  for  it  owes  its  beginning  neither  to  Semi- 
ramis nor  to  Nimrod,  b"t  to  the  foolish  vanity  of 
those  persons  mentioned  in  Scripture,8  who  desired  to 
build  a  tower  and  a  city,  that  should  render  their 
memory  immortal. 

Josephus  relates,9  upon  the  testimony  of  a  Sibyl 
(who  must  have  been  very  ancient,  and  whose  fictions 
cannot  be  imputed  to  the  indiscreet  zeal  of  any 
Christians),  that  the  gods  threw  down  the  tower  by 

»  Here  I  depart  from  the  opinion  of  Archbishop  Usher, 
mr  ordinary  guide,  with  respect  to  the  duration  of  the  As- 
syrian empire,  which  he  fuppones,  with  Herodotus,  to  have 
lii-ti>il  hut  520  years ;  but  the  time  when  Nimrod  lived  and 
Hardnnnpalus  'licit.  I  t;ik«  from  him. 

»  Hi  I  us  or  BanJ  significn  Lord.  »  <Jen.  T.  9. 

•  ),il>    ii.  p. !  0  •  I.ih.  ii.  p.  !X).  •  Gen.  x.  10. 

1  Sfmiramis  enm  conrtidprat,  vl  nt  pleriipie  traHidcre, 
Belus.  rujiM  rejiaostend'tur.  §.  Curt.  lib.  v.  c.  1. 

•  lien,  i i.  4.  •  His*.  Jud.  1.  i.  c.  4. 


an  impetuous  wind,  or  a  violent  hurricane,  Hsd  thii 
been  the  case.Nimrod's  temerity  must  have  been  still 
greater,  to  rebuild  a  city  and  a  tower  which  God 
himself  had  overthrown  with  such  marks  of  his  dis- 
pleasure. But  the  Script'ire  says  no  such  thing;  and 
it  is  very  probable,  the  building  remained  in  the  con- 
dition it  was,  when  God  put  an  end  to  the  work  by  the 
confusion  of  languages;  and  that  the  tower  const  crated 
to  Belus,  which  is  described  by  Herodotus,11' was  thii 
very  tower,  which  the  sons  of  men  pretended  to  raise 
to  the  clouds. 

It  is  farther  probable,  that  this  ridiculous  design 
having  been  defeated  by  such  an  astonishing  prodigy 
as  none  could  be  the  author  of  but  God  himself,  every 
body  abandoned  the  place,  which  had  given  Him  of- 
fence; and  that  Nimrod  was  the  first  who  encompassed 
it  afterwards  with  walls,  settled  therein  his  friends  and 
confederates,  and  subdued  those  that  lived  round 
about  it,  beginning  his  empire  in  that  place,  but  not 
confining  it  to  so  narrow  a  compass:  Fait  principium 
regni  ejus  Babylon.  The  other  cities,  which  the 
Scripture  speaks  of  in  the  same  place,  were  in  the 
laud  of  Shinar,  which  was  certainly  the  province  of 
which  Babylon  became  the  metropolis. 

From  this  country  he  went  into  that  which  has  the 
name  of  Assyria,  and  there  built  Nineveh;  De  terra 
ilia  egressus  est  Assur,  et  oedificavit  Nineveh.1*  This 
is  the  sense  in  which  many  learned  men  understand  the 
word  Assur,  looking  upon  it  as  the  name  of  a  pro- 
vince and  not  of  the  first  man  who  possessed  it;  as  if  it 
were  egressus  est  in  Assur,  in  Assyriam.  And  this 
seems  to  be  the  most  natural  construction,  for  many 
reasons  not  necessary  to  be  ••cited  in  this  place.  The 
country  of  Assyria  is  described,  in  one  of  the  prophets,1* 
by  the  particularcharacter  of  being  the  land  of  Nimrod: 
fitpascent  terrain  Assur  in  gladio,  et  terram  JVimrod 
in  lanceis  cjus;  et  liberabit  ab  Assur,  cum  venerit  in 
terram  nostram.  It  derived  its  name  from  Assur,  the 
son  of  Shem,  who  without  doubt  had  settled  himself 
and  family  there,  and  was  probably  driven  out,  or 
brought  under  subjection  by  the  usurper  Nimrod. 

The  conqueror  having  possessed  himself  of  the  pro- 
vinces of  Assur,18  did  not  ravage  them  like  a  tyrant, 
but  filled  them  with  cities,  and  made  himself  as  much 
beloved  by  his  new  subjects,  as  he  was  by  his  old 
ones;  so  that  the  historians, '<  who  have  not  examined 
into  the  bottom  of  this  affair,  have  thought  thht  he 
made  use  of  the  Assyrians  to  conquer  the  Babylonians. 
Among  other  cities,  he  built  one  more  large  and  mag- 
nificent than  the  rest,  which  he  called  Nineveh,  from 
the  name  of  his  son  Ninus,  in  order  to  immortalize  his 
memory.  The  son,  in  his  turn,  out  of  veneration  for 
his  father,  wras  willing  that  they  who  had  served  him 
as  their  king  should  adore  him  as  their  god,  and 
induce  other  nations  to  render  him  the  same  worship. 
For  it  appears  evident,  that  Nimrod  is  the  famous 
Belus  of  the  Babylonians,  the  first  king  whom  the 
people  deified  for  his  great  actions,  and  who  showed 
others  the  way  tolhatsort  of  immortality  which  human 
acquirements  are  supposed  capable  of  bestowing. 

I  intend  to  speak  of  the  mighty  strength  and  great- 
ness of  the  cities  of  Babylon  and  Nineveh,  under  the 
kings  to  whom  their  buflding  is  ascribed  by  profane 
authors,  because  the  scripture  says  little  or  nothing 
on  that  subject.  This  silence  of  Scripture,  so  little 
satisfactory  to  our  curiosity,  may  become  an  instruc- 
tive lesson  to  our  piety.  The  holy  penman  has  placed 
Nimrod  and  Abraham,  as  it  were,  in  one  view  before 
us;  and  seems  to  have  put  them  so  near  together  on 
purpose,  that  we  should  see  an  example  in  the  former 
of  what  is  admired  and  coveted  by  men,  and  in  the 
latter  of  what  is  acceptable  and  weft  pleasing  to  God. 
These  two  persons,  so  unlike  one  another,  are  the 
first  two  and  chief  citizens  of  two  different  cities,  buil 
on  different  motives,  and  with  different  principles;1* 
the  one  self-love,  and  adesire  of  temporal  advantages. 


«•  Mb.  i.e.  181.  »Gen.  x.  II.  «»  Mic.  T.  6. 

nOen.x.  11.12.  "  Diod.  I.  ii.  p.  !'0. 

»•  Fererunt  rivilates  dua»  amores  duo:  terrenam  sr-ilicel 
nmor  sui  usque  ad  contemptum  Dei  :  roplestem  vero  ami* 
Dei  usque  ad  contempt  um  sui.  S.  .lug  At  CtV  Dti,  kih 
ziv.  c.  28. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


135 


carried  even  to  the  contemning  of  the  Deity;  the  other, 
the  love  of  God,  even  to  the  contemning  of  one's  sell'. 

IVlNUS.     1  have  already  observed,  that  most  of  the 

profane  authors  look  upon  him  as  the  first  founder  of 

nun  empire,  and  for  that  reason  ascribe  to  him 

•  great  part  of  his  father  Nimrod'sor  Belus's  actions. 

Having  a  design  .to  enlarge  his  conquests,1  the  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  prepare  troops  and  officer* capable  ; 
of  promoting  his  designs.  And  having  received  power- 
ful succors  from  the  Arabians  his  neighbours,  he  took 
the  field,  and  in  the  space  of  seventeen  years  conquered 
a  •.:  -t  '  xtent  of  country,  from  Egypt  as  far  as  Indiaand 
Bar triana,  which  he  did  not  then  venture  to  attack. 

At  his  return,  before  he  entered  upon  any  new  con- 
quests he  conceived  the  design  of  immortalizing  his 
nan-e  by  the  building  ofa  city  answerable  to  the  great- 
Best  ol  his  power;  he  called  it  .Nineveh,  and  built  it 
on  the  eastern  banks  of  the  Tigris.8     Possibly  he  did 
no  more  than  finish  the  work  his  father  had  begun. 
His  design,  says  Diodorus,  was  to  make  .Nineveh  the 
largest  and  noblest  city  in  the  world,  and  to  put  it  out  ! 
of  ?»e  power  of  those  that  came  after  him  everto  build  ' 
or  hope  to  build  such  another.     .Nor  was  he  deceived 
io  hi?  view;  for  never  did  any  city  come  up  to  the 
greatness  and  magnificence  of  this:   it  was  150  stadia 
(or  eighteen  miles  three  quarters)  in  length,  and  ninety 
sta'Jia  (or  eleven  miles  and  one  quarter)  in  breadth: 
and  consequently  was  an  oblong  square.     Its  circuci-  j 
fertnce  was  480  stadia,  orsixty  miles.    For  this  reason  ' 
wr.  find  it  said  in  the  prophet  Jonah,  that  A'inerek  mus 
•*  exceeding  great  city,  of  three  days' journey  ,•*  which 
it  to  be  understood  of  the  whole  circuit  or  compass  of 
the  city.*     the  walls  of  it  were  100  feet  high,  ar.d 
of  so  considerable    a  thickness,  that  three  chariots 
night  go  abreast  upon  them  with  ease.     They  we  n 
fortified  and  adorned  with  1500  towers  200  fett  hign 

After  he  had  finished  this  prodigious  work,  he  re- 
Miued  his  expedition  against  the  Hadrians.  His 
armv  according  to  the  relation  of  Ctesias.  consisted 
of  1,700,000  foot,  200,000  horse,  and  about  16,000 
chariots  armed  with  scythes.  Diodorus  adds  that  this 
6ught  not  to  appear  incredible,  since,  not  to  mention 
the  innumerable  armies  of  Darius  and  Xerxes,  the 
city  of  Syracuse  alone  in  the  time  of  Dionvsius  the 
Tyrant,  furnished  120,000  foot,  and  12,000  horse,  be- 
ai>!es400  vessels  well  equipped  and  provided.  And  a 
Httle  before  Hannibal's  time,  Italy,  including  the  citi- 
•ens  anil  allies,  was  able  to  send  into  the  field  near 
1,000,001*  of  men.  Ninus  made  himself  master  of  a 
great  number  of  cities,  and  at  last  laid  siege  to  Bac- 
tria,  the  capital  of  the  country.  Here  he  would  proba- 
bly have  seen  all  his  attempts  miscarry,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  diligence  and  assistance  of  Semiramis, 
wife  to  one  of  his  chief  officers,  a  woman  of  an  un- 
common courage,  and  peculiarly  exempt  from  the 
weakness  of  her  sex.  She  was  bora  at  Ascalon,  a 
city  of  Syria.  I  think  it  needless  to  recite  the  account 
Diodorus  gives  of  her  birth,  and  of  the  miraculous 
manner  of  her  being  nursed  and  brought  up  by  pi- 
geons, since  that  historian  himself  looks  upon  it  only 
as  a  fabulous  story.  It  was  Semiramis  that  directed 
Ninus  how  to  attack  the  citadel,  and  by  her  means  he 
took  it,  and  thus  became  master  of  the  city,  in  which 
he  found  immense  treasure.  The  husband  of  Semi- 
ramis having  killed  himself,  to  prevent  the  effect*  of 
the  king's  threats  and  indignation,  who  had  conceived 
a  violent  passion  for  his  wife,  Xinus  married  her. 

After  his  return  to  Nineveh,  he  had  a  son  by  her, 
whom  hf  called  Ninyas.  Not  long  after  this  he  died, 
and  left  the  queen  the  government  of  the  kingdom. 
She,  in  honour  of  his  memory,  erected  a  magnificent 
aionument,  which  remained  a  long  time  after  the  ruin 
of  Nine  .-eh. 

I  find  no  appearance  of  truth  in  what  some  authors 


relate  concerning  the  manner  of  Si  uiramis'k  coming 
to  the  throne.*  According  to  them,  having  secured 
the  chief  men  of  the  stale,  and  attached  then,  io  her 
interest  by  her  benefactions  and  promises,  she  soli- 
cited the  kinjc  with  great  importunity  to  put  the  sove- 
reign power  into  her  hands  for  the  space  of  five  days. 
He  yielded  to  her  entreaties,  and  all  the  provinces  of 
the  empire  were  commanded  to  obey  Stmiiumis. 
These  orders  were  executed  but  too  exactly  for  the 
unfortunate  Ninus,  who  was  put  to  death,  either  im- 
mediately, or  alter  some  years'  imprisonment. 

St.MlKA.Mls.  This  princf  *s  applied  all  her  thoughts 
to  immortalize  her  name,6  and  to  cover  the  meanness 
of  her  extraction  by  the  greatness  of  her  tntt  rpn-sts. 
She  proposed  to  hersell  to  surpass  all  her  pre<  • 
in  magnificence,  and  to  that  end  she  undertook  the 
building  of  the  mighty  Babylon,7  in  which  work  «b" 
employed  2,000,000  of  men.  which  were  collected  out 
ol  all  the  provinces  ot  her  vast  empire.  Some  of  her 
successors  endeavoured  to  adorn  that  city  with  new 
works  and  embellishments.  I  shall  here  speak  of 
them  altogether,  in  order  to  give  the  reader  a  more 
clear  and  distinct  idea  of  that  stupendous  city. 

The  principal  work*  which  rendered  Babylon  so 
famous,  are  the  walls  of  the  city ;  the  quays  and  the 
bridge;  the  lake,  banks,  and  canals,  made  for  the 
draining  of  the  river:  the  piilaces,  hanging  gardens, 
and  the  temple  of  Belus;  works  of  such  a  surprising 
magnificence,  as  is  scarce  to  be  comprehended.  Dr. 
Prideaux  having  treated  this  subject  with  great  extent 
and  learning,  I  have  only  to  copy,  or  rather  abr 

I.  The    Walls. 

Babylon  stood  on  a  large  plain,8  in  a  very  fat  and 
ich  soil.  The  walls  were  every  way  prodigious. 
They  were  iii  thickmss  eighty-seven  feet,  in  height 
350,  and  in  compass  -'-80  furlongs,  which  make  sixty 
of  our  miles.  These  walls  were  drawn  round  the 
city  in  the  form  of  an  exact  square,  each  side  of  which 
was  120  furlongs'  or  fifteen  miles,  in  length,  and  all 
built  of  large  bricks  cemented  together  with  bitumen, 
a  glutinous  slime  arising  out  of  the  earth  of  that  coun- 
try, which  binds  much  stronger  and  firmer  than  mor- 
tar, and  soon  grows  much  harder  than  the  bricks  or 
stones  themselves  which  it  cements  together. 

These  walls  were  surrounded  or.  the  ou'side  with 
a  vast  ditch,  lull  of  water,  and  lined  with  bricks  on 
both  sides.  The  earth  that  was  dug  out  of  it  made 
the  bricks  wherewith  the  walls  were  built;  and  there- 
fore, from  the  vast  height  and  breadth  of  the  walls 
may  be  inferred  the  greatness  of  the  ditch. 

In  every  side  of  this  great  square  were  twenty-five 
gates,  that  is,  100  in  all,  *»ic.h  were  all  made  ot' solid 
brass;  and  hence  it  is,  tuo  when  God  promises  to 
Cyrus  the  conquest  of  Babylon.  rietelU  him,10 that  he 
leotild  break  in  pieces  before  him  the  ga/ts  uf  brass. 
Between  every  two  of  these  gates  were  three  towers, 
and  four  more  at  the  four  corners  of  this  great  square, 
and  three  between  each  of  these  corners  and  the  next 
gate  on  either  side;  every  one  of  these  towers  was  ten 
feet  higher  than  the  walls.  But  this  is  to  be  under- 
stood only  of  those  parts  of  the  wall  where  there  wa* 
need  of  towers. 

From  the  twenty-five  gates  in  each  side  of  this 
great  square  went  twenty-five  streets,  in  straight  line* 
to  the  gates,  which  were  directly  over  against  (hem, 
in  the  opposite  side;  so  that  the  whole  number  of  the 
streets  was  fifty,  each  fifteen  miles  long,  whereof 
twenty-five  went  one  way,  and  twenty-live  the  other, 
directly  crossing  each  other  at  right  bugles.  And  be- 


i  Di<xl.  1.  ii.  p.  BO— 95. 

*  Duxjorus  says  it  was  on  the  banki  of  the  Euphratei, 
.nd  F:«-aks  of  it  a«  if  it  wai  to,  in  many  places  ;  but  lie  is 
mistaken.  '  Jon.  iii.  3. 

<  It  U  hard  to  believe  that  Diodorus  does  not  speak  of 
lh"  i-xtc-nt  of  Nineveh  with  some  exaggeration  ;  then-fore 
•onie  learned  men  have  reduced  the  stadium  to  little  more 
thin  one  half,  and  reckon  tifWn  of  them  to  the  Roman  mile 
uu'ead  of  eight,  the  uiua  computation. 


•  Plut   in  Mor.  p.  753.  »  Diod.  I.  ii.  r.  95. 

^  \Ve  are  not  to  wonder,  if  we  find  the  founding  of  a  cilj 
ascrilxd  to  different  perron*.  It  is  common  ev«n  amon'thi 
profane  writers,  t»  tay.  Such  a  prince  huilt  >uch  a  cilv 
whether  he  wa*  the  person  that  first  founded  it. or  that  onlj 
embellished  or  enlarged  il. 

•  Herod.  I.  i.  c.  17S,  ]H).     Diod.  I.  ii.  p.  95,  96.     Q.  Curt 
1.  v.  c.  1. 

•  I   relate   things  a»  I  find   them  in   tl,e  ancient   author*, 
which  Dean  Prideaux  has  alto  done;  but  I  rannot   hrlp  DA. 
lie»ins;   that   great  abatement*  are  10  be  made  in  what  the. 
»»v  a<  to  I  he  immense  extent  ol  Balnlon  and  Nineveh. 

>°  lea.  xlr.  9 


136 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


•ides  these,  (here  were  also  four  half  streets,  which 
had  houses  only  ou  one  side,  and  the  wall  on  the  other; 
these  went  round  the  four  sides  of  the  city  next  the 
walls,  and  were  ea:h  of  them  200  feet  broad;  the  rest 
were  about  150.  By  these  streets  thus  crossing  each 
other,  the  whole  city  was  cut  out  into  676  squares, 
each  of  which  was  four  furlongs  and  a  half  on  every 
tide,  that  is,  two  miles  and  a  quarter  in  circumfer- 
ence. Round  these  squares,1  on  every  side  towards 
the  street,  stood  the  houses  (which  were  not  contigu- 
ous, but  had  void  spaces  between  them,)  all  built  three 
or  four  stories  high, and  beautified  with  all  manner  of 
ornaments  towards  the  streets.  The  space  within,  in 
the  middle  of  each  square,  was  likewise  all  void 
ground,  employed  for  yards,  gardens,  and  other  such 
uses;  .«o  that  Babylon  was  greater  in  appearance 
than  reality,  near  one  half  of  the  city  being  taken  up 
in  gardens  and  other  cultivated  land*,  as  we  are  told 
by  Q.  Curtius. 

II.  The  Quays  and  Bridge. 

A  branch  of  the  river  Euphrates  ran  quite  across  the 
city,2  from  the  north  to  the  south  side;  on  each  si'le 
of  the  river  was  a  quay,  and  a  high  wall  built  of  brick 
and  bitumen,  of  the  same  thickness  as  the  walls  that 
went  round  the  city.  In  these  walls,  over-against 
every  street  that  led  to  the  river,  were  gates  of  brass, 
and  trom  them  descents  by  steps  to  the  river,  for  the 
convenirncy  of  the  inhabitant-,  who  used  to  pass  over 
from  one  side  to  the  other  in  boats,  having  no  other 
way  of  crossing  the  river  before  the  building  of  the 
bridge.  The  brazen  gates  were  always  open  in  the 
dav  time,  and  shut  in  the  night. 

The  bridge  was  not  inferior  to  any  of  the  other 
buildings,  either  in  beauty  or  magnificence;  it  was  a 
furlong  in  length.^  and  thirty  feet  in  breadth,  built 
with  wonderful  art,  to  supply  the  defect  of  a  founda- 
tion in  the  bottom  of  the  river,  which  was  all  sandy. 
The  arches  were  made  of  huge  stones,  fastened  to- 
gether with  chains  of  iron  and  melted  lead.  Before 
they  began  to  build  the  bridge,  they  turned  the  course 
of  the  river,  and  laid  its  channel  dry,  having  another 
view  in  so  doing,  besides  that  of  laying  the  founda- 
tions more  commodious!)-,  as  I  shall  e'xplain  hereafter. 
And  as  every  thing  was  prepared  beforehand,  both 
the  bridge  and  the  quay?,  which  I  have  already  de- 
icribed.were  built  in  that  interval. 

III.  The  Lakes,  Ditches,  and  Canals,  made  for  ihe 
draining  of  the  River. 

These  works,  objects  of  admiration  for  the  skilful 
in  all  ages,  were  still  more  useful  than  magnificent. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  summer,*  on  the  sun's  melt- 
ing the  snow  on  the  mountains  of  Armenia,  there 
arises  a  vast  increase  of  waters,  which,  running  into 
the  Euphrates-in  the  months  of  June,  July,  and  Au- 
gust, makes  it  overflow  its  banks,  and  occasions  such 
another  inundation  as  the  Nile  does  in  Egypt.  To 
prevent  the  damage  which  both  the  city  and  country 
received  from  these  inundations,5  at  a  very  considera- 
ble distance  above  the  town,  two  artificial  canals  were 
cut,  which  turned  the  course  of  these  waters  into  the 
Tigris,  before  they  reached  Babylon.  And  to  secure 
the  country  yet  more  from  the  danger  of  inundations,4 
and  to  keep  the  river  within  its  channel,  they  raised 
prodigious  banks  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  built  with 
brirk  cemented  with  bitumen,  which  began  at  the  head 
of  the  artificial  tanals,  and  extended  below  the  city. 

To  facilitate  the  making  of  these  works,  it  was 
accessary  to  turn  the  course  of  the  river  ;  for  which 
purpose,  to  the  west  of  Babylon,  was  dug  a  prodigious 
artificial  lake,  forty  miles  square,'  160  in  compass, 
and  thirty-five  feet  deep,  according  to  Herodotus,  and 

>  Quint.  Cart.  I.  v  c.  1. 

*  Herod.  I.  i.  c.  180,  186.     Died,  1.  ii.  p.  96. 

•  Diodorun  nays,  thin  bridge  was  five  furlongt  in  length, 
which  can  hardly  be  true,  einre  the  Euphrates  wa§  but  one 
furlonj  brcwd.     Stroll.  I.  xvi.  p.  "!W. 

*  Strnh.  I.  ivi.  p.  740.     Plin.  1.  v.  c.  26. 
»  Abyd.  an.  Eux.  Prtrp.  Evang.  lib.  ix. 

•  Ahyi.  it,      Herod.  I.  i   c.  I  Co. 

'  Tho  author  follow*  ll>Tndnlun.  who  makei  u  420  fur- 
bag*.  01  ;•>  miles  iquare  ;  but  I  chooie  to  follow  Dean  Pri- 
AMUI,  who  prcferi  tH  account  of  Mcgasthenu*. 


[  seventy-five  according  to  Megasthenes.  Into  this  tkto 
was  the  whole  river  turned,  by  an  artificial  canal  cat 
from  the  west  side  of  it,  till  the  whole  work  was  fin- 
ished, when  it  was  made  to  flow  in  its  former  channel. 
But  that  the  Euphrates,  in  the  time  of  its  increase 
might  not  overflow  the  city,  through  the  gates  on  it* 
sides,  this  lake,  with  the  canal  from  the  river,  was  still 
preserved.  The  water  received  into  the  lake  at  the 
time  of  these  overflowings  was  kept  there  all  the  year, 
as  in  a  common  reservoir,  for  the  bent  tit  of  the  coun- 
try, to  be  let  out  by  sluices,  at  convenient  times  for 
the  watering  of  the  lands  below  it.  The  lake,  there- 
fore, was  equally  useful  in  defending  the  couii»*v  iVom 
inundations,  and  making  it  fertile.  1  relate  the  won- 
ders of  Babylon  as  they  are  delivered  to  us  by  the 
ancients  ;  but  there  are  some  of  them  which  are  scarce 
to  be  comprehended  or  believed,  of  which  number  it 
the  vast  extent  of  the  lake,  which  I  have  just  describejd. 

Berosus,  Megasthenes,  and  Abydenus,  quoted  by 
Josephus  and  'Eusfbius,  make  Nebuchadnezzar  the 
author  of  the  most  of  these  works  ;  but  Herodotu» 
ascribes  the  bridge,  the  two  quays  of  the  river,  and  the 
lake,  to  Nitocris,  the  daughter-in-law  of  that  monarch. 
Perhaps  Nitocris  might  finish  what  her  father  left 
'  uiperiect  at  his  death,  on  which  account  that  historian 
light  give  her  the  honour  of  the  whole  undertaking. 
IV.  The  Palaces,  and  Hang-ing  Gardens. 

At  the  two  ends  of  the  bridge  were  two  palaces,' 
which  had  a  communication  with  each  other  hy  a  vault, 
built  under  the  channel  of  the  river,  at  the  time  of  it* 
being  dry.  The  old  palace  which  stood  on  the  east 
side  of  the  river,  was  thirty  furlongs  (or  three  mile* 
and  three  quarters)  in  compass  ;  near  which  stood  the 
temple  of  Belus,  ol  which  we  shall  soon  speak.  The 
new  palace,  which  stood  on  the  west  -.'icie  of  the  rivert 
opposite  to  the  other,  was  sixty  furlongs  (or  seven 
miles  and  a  half)  in  compass.  It  WHS  surrounded 
with  three  walls,  one  within  another,  with  considera- 
ble spaces  between  them.  These  walls,  as  also  those 
of  the  other  palace,  were  embellished  with  an  infinite 
variety  of  sculptures,  representing  all  kinds  of  animals, 
to  the  life.  Amongst  the  rest  was  a  curious  hunting- 
piece,  in  which  Semiramis  on  horseback  was  throw- 
ing her  javelin  at  a  leopard,  and  her  husband  Nino* 
piercing  a  lion. 

In  this  last  palace,'  were  the  hanging  gardens,  to 
celebrated  among  the  Greeks.  They  contained  a 
square  of  400  feet  on  every  side,  and  were  carried  up 
in  the  manner  of  several  large  terraces,  one  above 
another,  till  the  height  equalled  that  of  the  walls  of 
the  city.  The  ascent  was  from  terrace  to  terrace, 'by 
stairs  ten  feet  wide.  The  whole  pile  was  sustained 
by  vast  arches,  raised  upon  other  arches,  one  above 
another,  and  strengthened  by  a  wall,  surrounding  it 
on  every  side,  of  twenty-two  feet  in  thickness.  On 
the  top  of  the  arches  were  first  laid  large  flat  stones, 
sixteen  feet  long,  and  four  broad  ;  over  these  \vas  a 
layer  of  reeds,  mixed  with  a  great  quantity  of  bitu- 
men, upon  which  were  two  rows  of  bricks,  closely 
cemented  together  with  plaster.  The  whole  was  co- 
vered with  thick  sheets  of  lead,  upon  which  lay  the 
mould  of  thegarden.  And  all  this  floorage  was  contriv- 
ed to  keep  the  moisture  of  the  mould  from  running  iiwaj 
through  the  arches.  The  earth  laid  hereon  was  so 
deep,  that  the  greatest  trees  might  take  root  in  it;  and 
with  such  the  terraces  were  covered,  as  well  as  with 
other  plants  and  flowers  that  were  proper  to  ai'orn  a 
pleasure-garden.  In  the  upper  terrace  there  was  an 
engine,  or  kind  of  pump,  by  which  water  was  drown 
up  out  of  the  river,  and  from  thence  the  whole  garden 
was  watered.  In  the  spaces  between  the  several 
arches,  upon  which  this  whole  structure  rested,  were 
large  and  magnificent  apartments,  that  were  very 
light,  and  had  the  advantage  of  a  beautiful  prospect. 

Amy tis,10  the  wife  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  having  been 
bred  in  Media  (for  she  was  the  daughter  of  A  sty  ages, 
the  king  of  that  country),  had  been  much  delighted 
with  the  mountains  and  woody  parts  of  that  country. 


•  Diod.  I.  ii.  p.  96.  07. 

•  Diud.  i.  ii.  p  08,  90.  Sirab.  I.  xvi.  p.  738.     Quint   Caw 
1.  >.  c.  1.  i»  Beros.  ap.  Jo*,  coot.  App  I.  >.  1. 1 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


13/ 


And  as  she  desired  to  have  something  like  it  in  Baby- 
lon. Nebuchadnezzar,  to  gratify  her,  caused  this  pro- 
digious eiiitice  to  be  erected.  Diodorus  give*  much 
the  same  account  of  the  matter,  but  without  naming 
the  persons. 

V.   The  Temple  of  Pelut. 

Another  of  the  gre&t  works  at  Babylon  was  the 
temple  of  Belns,1  which  stood,  as  I  have  mentioned 
already,  near  the  old  palace.  It  was  most  remarkable 
for  a  prodigious  tower,  that  stood  in  the  middle  of  it. 
\t  the  foundation,  according  to  Herodotus,  it  was  a 
square  of  a  furlong  on  each  side,  that  is,  half  a  mile  in 
the  whole  compass,  and  (according  to  Strabo)  it  was 
also  a  furlong  in  height.  It  consisted  of  eight  towers, 
built  one  above  the  other,  decreasing  regularly  to  the 
top,  for  which  reason  Strabo  calls  the  whole  a  pyra- 
mid. It  is  not  only  asserted,  but  proved,  that  this 
tower  much  exceeded  the  greatest  of  the  pyramids  ol 
Egypt  in  height.  Therefore  we  have  good  reason  to 
believe,  a«  Bochart  asserts,2  that  this  is  the  very  same 
towtr  which  was  built  there  at  the  confusion  of  the 
languages  :  and  the  rather,  bacause  it  is  attested  bv 
sevt  ral  profane  authors,  thai  this  tower  was  all  built 
of  bricks  and  bitumen,  as  the  Scriptures  tell  us  the 
tower  of  Babel  was.  The  ascent  to  the  top  was  by 
stairs  on  the  outside  round  it  ;  that  is,  perhaps,  there 
was  an  easy  sloping  ascent  in  the  side  of  the  outer 
wall,  which  turning  by  very  slow  degrees  in  a  spiral 
line  eight  times  round  the  tower  from  the  bottom  to 
the  top,  had  the  same  appearance  as  if  ihere  had  been 
eight  towers  placed  upon  one  another.  In  these  dif- 
ferent stories  were  many  large  rooms,  with  arched  roofs 
supported  by  pillars.  Over  the  whole,  on  the  top  of 
the  tower,  was  an  observatory,  by  the  benefit  of  which 
the  Babylonians  became  more  expert  in  astronomy 
than  all  other  nations,  and  made,  in  a  short  time,  the 
great  progress  in  it  ascribed  to  them  in  history. 

But  the  chief  use  to  which  this  tower  was  designed, 
was  the  worship  of  the  god  Belus  or  Baal,  as  also  that 
i.f  -•  vi  ral  other  deities  ;  for  which  reason  there  was  a 
multitude  of  chapels  in  different  parts  of  the  tower. 
The  riches  of  this  temple  in  statues,  tables,  censers, 
cups,  and  other  sacred  vessels,  all  of  massy  gold,  were 
immense.  Among  other  images,  there  was  one  forty 
feet  high,  which  weighed  1000  Babylonish  talents. 
The  Babylonish  talent,  according  to  Polios  in  his 
Oii'itntislicon,  contained  TOGO  Attic  drachmas,  and  con- 
sequently was  a  sixth  part  more  than  the  Attic  talent, 
which  contains  but  6000  drachmas. 

According  to  the  calculation  which  Diodorus  makes 
of  the  riches  contained  in  thi*  temple,  the  sum  total 
amounts  to  6300  Babylonish  talents  of  gold. 

The  sixth  part  of  6300  is  1050  ;  consequently  6300 
Babylonish  talents  of  gold  are  equivalent  to  7350  Attic 
talents  of  gold. 

".550  Attic  talents  of  silver  are  worth  upwards 
2.100.000/.  sterling.  The  proportion  between  gold 
and  silver  among  the  ancients  we  reckon  as  ten  to 
one  ;  therefore  7350  Attic  talents  of  gold  amount  to 
above  21. OOO.OOOf.  sterling. 

The  temple  stood  till  the  time  of  Xerxes  ;'  but  he 
on  his  return  from  his  Grecian  expedition,  demolished 
it  entirely,  after  having  first  plundered  it  of  all  its 
nimense  riches.  Alexander,  on  his  return  to  Babylon 
from  his  Indian  expedition,  purposed  to  have  rebuilt 
:t  ;  and  in  order  thereto,  set  10,000  men  to  work  to  rid 
the  plu-e  of  its  rubbish;  but,  after  they  had  laboured 
herein  two  months,  Alexander  died,  and  that  put  an 
nd  to  the  undertaking. 

Such  were  the  chief  works  which  rendered  Babylon 
lo  famous  ;  the  greater  part  of  them  are  ascribed  by 
profane  authors  to  Semiramis,  to  whose  historjrit  is 
now  time  to  return. 

When  slie  had  finished  all  these  great  undertak- 
ing.4 »'ie  thonsrht  fit  to  make  a  progress  through  the 
fc\  er:il  parts  of  her  empire  :  and  wherever  she  came, 
left  niniment*  of  her  magnificence  by  manv  noble 
«tructnres  which  she  erected,  either  for  theconvenien- 

«  Hero<l.  1.  i.  c.  lei.  Died.  I.  ii.  p.  98.  Str«b  I.  xxi.  p. 

/3.-.  »  Phal.  part.  I.I.  i.  e.  9. 

>  Il'-nxl.  1.  i.  c.  183.  S-rali.  I.  xvi.  p.  T  -a.  Arrian.  i. 

in.  ;..  4-0.  «  Diod.  I.  ii.  p.  1UO— 108. 

VOL.  I  -18 


CT  or  ornament  of  hercities  ;  she  was  particularly  care- 
ful to  have  water  brought  by  aqueducts  to  such  place* 
as  wanted  it,  and  to  make  the  high  ways  easy,  by  cutting 
through  mountains,  and  filling  up  valleys.  In  the  time 
of  Diodorus,  there  were  still  monuments  to  bi  seen  in 
manv  places,  with  her  name  inscribed  upon  them. 

The  authority  th'u  queen  had  over  her  people  seems 
very  extraordinary,*  since  we  find  her  presence  alone 
capable  of  appealing  a  sedition.  One  day,  as  she 
was  dressing  herself,  word  was  brought  her  oi" a  tumult 
in  the  citv.  Whereupon  she  went  out  immediately, 
with  her  Lead  half  Iressed.and  did  not  return  till  the 
disturbance  was  entirely  appeased.  A  statue  was 
erected  in  remembrance  of  this  action,  representing 
her  in  that  very  attitude  and  undress,  which  bad  not 
hindered  her  from  flying  to  her  duty. 

.Not  satisfied  with  the  vast  extent'of  dominions  left 
her  by  her  husband,  she  enlarged  them  by  the  con- 
quest of  a  great  part  of  F.thiopia.  Whilst  she  was  in 
that  country,  she  had  the  curiosity  to  visit  (he  ttmple 
of  Jupiter  Ammon,  to  inquire  of  the  oracle  how  long 
she  had  to  live.  According  to  Diodorus,  the  answer 
she  received  was,  that  she  should  not  die  till  her  son 
JVinyas  conspired  against  her,  and  that  after  her  death 
one  part  of  Asia  would  pay  her  divine  honours. 

Her  greatest  and  last  expedition  was  against  India. 
On  this  occasion  she  raised  an  innumerable  army  out 
of  all  the  provinces  of  her  empire,  and  appointed 
Bactra  for  the  rendezvous.  As  the  strength  of  the 
Indians  consisted  chiefly  in  their  great  number  of  ele- 
phants, she  caused  a  multitude  of  camels  to  be  ac- 
coutred in  the  form  of  elephants,  in  hopes  of  deceiving 
the  enemy.  It  is  said  that  Ferses  long  after  used  the 
same  stratagem  against  the  Romans  :  but  neither  of 
them  succeeded  in  this  artifice.  The  Indian  king 
having  notice  of  her  approach,  sent  ambassadors  to 
ask  her  who  she  was,  and  with  what  right,  having 
never  received  any  injury  from  him,  she  came  out  of 
wantonness  lo  attack  his  dominions  :  adding,  that 
her  boldness  should  soon  meet  with  the  punishment  it 
deserved.  Tell  yot/r  mutter,  replied  the  queen,  that 
in  a  lillle  time,  I  myself  will  let  him  know  icAo  I  am. 
She  advanced  immediately  towards  the  river,'  from 
which  the  country  takes  its  name:  and  having  prepared 
a  sufficient  number  of  boats,  she  attempted  to  pass  it 
with  her  army.  This  passage  was  a  long  time  dis- 
puted, hut  after  a  bloody  battle  she  put  her  enemies  to 
(light.  Above  1000  of  their  boats  were,  sunk,  and 
above  100,000  of  their  men  taken  prisoners.  Encou- 
raged by  this  success,  she  advanced  directly  into  the 
country,  leaving  60,000  men  behind  to  guard  the 
bridge  of  boats  which  she  had  built  over  the  river. 
This  .was  just  what  the  king  desired,  who  fied  on 
purpose  to  bring  her  to  an  engagement  in  the  heart  of 
his  country.  As  soon  as  he  thought  her  far  enough 
advanced,  he  faced  about,  and  a  second  engagement 
ensued,  more  bloody  than  the  first.  The  counterfeit 
elephants  could  not  long  sustain  the  shock  of  the 
real  ones  :  these  routed  her  army,  crushing  whatever 
came  in  their  way.  Semiramis  did  all  that  lav  in  her 
power  to  rally  and  encourage  her  troops,  but  in  vain. 
The  king,  perceiving  her  engaged  in  the  fight,  ad 
vanced  towards  her,  and  wounded  her  in  two  places, 
but  not  mortally.  The  swiftness  of  her  horse  soon 
carried  her  beyond  the  reach  of  her  enemies.  As  her 
men  crowded  to  the  bridge  to  repass  the  river,  srcai 
numbers  of  them  perished,  through  the  disorder  and 
confusion  unavoidable  on  such  occasions.  When 
those  that  could  save  themselves  were  safely  over, 
she  destroyed  the  bridge,  and  by  that  means  stopped 
the  enemy  ;  and  the  king  likewise,  in  obedience  to  an 
oracle,  had  given  orders  to  his  troops  not  to  pass 
the  river,  nor  pursue  Semiramis  anv  farther  The 
queen  having  made  an  exchange  of  prisoners  at 
Bactra,  returned  to  her  own  dominions  with  scarce 
one-third  of  her  army,  which  (according  to  Ctesias) 
consisted  of  3,000.000  foot  and  500,000  horse,  br  sides 
the  camels  and  chariots  armed  for  war,  of  wh'u  h  she 
had  a  very  considerable  number.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  this  account  is  highly  exaggerated,  or  that  there 
is  some  mistake  in  the  numeral  characters.  She,  and 


»  Val.  Max.  lib.  ix.  c.  3. 


M  2 


•  Indw. 


138 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS 


Alexander  aAer  her,  were  the  only  persons  that  ever 
ventured  to  carry  the  war  beyond  the  river  Indus. 

I  must  own  I  am  somewhat  puzzled  with  a  difficulty 
which  may  be  raised  against  the  extraordinary  things 
related  of  IVinus  and  Semiramis,  as  they  do  not  seem 
to  agree  with  the  times  so  near  the  deluge  :  I  mean, 
iuch  vast  armies,  such  a  numerous  cavalry,  so  many 
chariots  armed  with  scythes,  and  such  immense  trea- 
sures of  gold  and  silver  ;  all  which  seem  to  be  of  a 
later  date.  The  same  thing  may  likewise  be  said  of 
the  magnificence  of  the  buildings,  ascribed  to  them. 
It  is  probable  the  Greek  historians,  who  came  so 
many  ages  afterwards,  deceived  by  the  similarity  of 
names,  by  their  ignorance  in  chronology,  and  the 
resemblance  of  one  event  with  another,  may  have 
ascribed  such  things  to  more  ancient  princes,  as 
belonged  to  those  of  a  later  date  ;  or  may  have  at- 
tributed a  number  of  exploits  and  enterprises  to  one, 
which  ought  to  be  divided  amongst  a  series  of  them, 
succeeding  one  another. 

Semiramis,  sometime  after  her  return,  discovered 
that  her  son  was  plotting  against  her,  and  one  of  her 
principal  officers  had  offered  him  his  assistance.  She 
then  called  to  mind  the  oracle  of  Jupiter  Ammon  ; 
and  believing  that  her  end  approached,  without  in- 
flicting any  punishment  on  the  officer,  who  was  taken 
into  custody,  she  voluntarily  abdicated  the  throne,  put 
the  government  into  the  hands  of  her  son,  and  with- 
drew from  the  sight  of  men,  hoping  speedily  to  have 
divine  honours  paid  to  her,  according  to  the  promise 
of  the  oracle.  And  indeed,  we  are  told,  she  was 
worshipped  by  the  Assyrians,  under  the  form  of  a 
dove.  She  lived  sixty-two  years,  of  which  she 
reigned  forty-two. 

There  are  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of 
Belles  Letters,1  two  learned  dissertations  upon  the 
Assyrian  empire,  and  particularly  on  the  reign  and 
actions  of  Semiramis. 

What  Justin2  says  of  Semiramis,  namely,  that  af- 
ter her  husband's  decease,  not  daring  either  to  com- 
mit the  government  to  her  son,  who  was  then  too 
young,  or  openly  to  take  it  upon  herself,  she  governed 
under  the  name  and  habit  of  Ninyas  ;  and  that,  after 
having  reigned  in  that  manner  above  forty  years,  fall- 
ing passionately  in  love  with  her  own  son,  she  en- 
deavoured to  induce  him  to  comply  with  her  criminal 
desires,  and  was  slain  by  him  :  all  this,  I  say,  is  so 
void  of  all  appearance  of  truth,  that  to  go  about  to 
confute  it  would  be  but  losing  time.  It  must  however 
be  owned,  that  almost  all  the  authors,  who  have  spo- 
ken of  Semiramis,  give  us  but  a  disadvantageous  idea 
of  her  chastity. 

I  do  not  know  but  that  the  glorious  reign  of  this 
ueen  might  partly  induce  Plato3  to  maintain,  in  his 
ommonwealth,  that  women  as  well  as  men  ought 
to  be  admitted  into  the  management  of  public  affairs, 
the  conducting  of  armies,  and  the  government  of 
states  ;  and,  by  necessary  consequence,  ought  to  be 
trained  up  in  the  same  exercises  as  men,  as  well  for 
the  forming  of  the  body  as  the  mind.  Nor  does  he 
so  much  ag  except  those  exercises,  wherein  it  was 
customary  to  fight  stark  naked,  alleging*  that  the 
virtue  of  the  sex  would  be  a  sufficient  covering  for 
them. 

It  is  just  matter  of  surprise  to  find  a  philosopher  so 
judicious  in  other  respects,  openly  combating  the 
most  common  and  most  natural  maxims  of  modesty 
and  decency,  virtues  which  are  the  principal  orna- 
ment of  the  female  sex,  and  insisting  so  strongly 
upon  a  principle,  sufficiently  confuted  by  the  constant 
practice  of  all  ages,  and  of  almost  all  nations  in  the 
World. 

Aristotle.6  wiser  in  this  than  his  master  Plato, 
without  doing  the  least  injustice  to  the  real  merit  and 
essential  qualities  of  the  sex,  has  with  great  judg- 
ment marked  out  the  different  ends  to  which  man  and 
woman  are  ordained,  from  the  different  qualities  of 
body  and  mind,  wherewith  they  are  endowed  by  the 

i  Vol.  iii.  p.  343,  &.c.  »  Lib.  i.  c.  2. 

•  Lib.  T.  de.  Rep  p.  451—437. 

•  'E-Il.TTip    ip.iyv    i»vi    |',U»T.*»   B/«9li<rO»T* 

•  De  earn  rol  fr.m.  1  i  c.  3. 


q 
C 


Author  of  Nature,  who  has  given  tie  one  strength  of 

body  and  intrepidity  of  mind,  to  enable  him  to  under- 
go the  greatest  hardships,  and  face  the  most  imminent 
dangers  ;  whilst  the  other,  on  the  contrary,  is  of  a 
weak  and  delicate  constitution,  accompanied  with  a 
natural  softness  and  modest  timidity,  which  render 
her  more  fit  for  a  sedentary  -life,  and  dispose  her  *o 
keep  within  the  precincts  of  the  house,  and  employ 
herself  in  the  concerns  of  prudent  and  industrioui 
economy. 

Xenophon  is  of  the  same  opinion  with  Aristotle  f 
and  in  order  to  set  off  the  occupation  of  the  wife 
who  confines  herself  within  her  house,  agreeably 
compares  her  to  the  mother-bee,  commonly  called  the 
queen-bee,  who  alone  governs,  and  has  the  superin- 
tendence of,  the  whole  hive,  who  distributes  all  their 
employments,  encourages  their  industry,  presides  over 
the  building  of  their  little  cells,  takes  care  of  the 
nourishment  and  subsistence  of  her  numerous  family, 
regulates  the  quantity  of  honey  appointed  for  that 
purpose,  and  at  fixed  and  proper  seasons  sends  abroad 
the  new  swarms  in  colonies,  to  ease  and  disburden 
the  hive  of  its  superfluous  inhabitants.  He  remarks, 
with  Aristotle,  the  difference  of  constitution  and  in- 
clinations, designedly  made  by  the  author  of  Nature 
between  man  and  woman,  to  point  to  each  of  them 
their  proper  and  peculiar  offices  and  functions. 

This  allotment,  far  from  degrading  or  lessening  the 
woman,  is  really  for  her  advantage  and  honour,  in 
confiding  to  her  a  kind  of  domestic  empire  and  go- 
vernment, administered  only  by  gentleness,  reason, 
equity,  and  good  nature;  and  in  giving  her  frequent  oc- 
casions of  concealing  the  most  valuable  and  excellent 
qualitiesundertheinestimableveil  of  modesty  and  sub- 
mission. For  it  must  ingenuously  be  owned,  that  at  all 
times,  and  in  all  conditions,  there  have  been  women, 
who  by  a  real  solid  merit  have  distinguished  them- 
selves above  their  sex;  as  there  have  been  innumera- 
ble instances  of  men,  who  by  their  defects  have 
dishonoured  theirs.  But  these  are  only  particular  ca 
ses,  which  form  no  rule,  and  which  ought  not  to  pre 
vail  against  an  establishment  founded  in  nature,  anc 
prescribed  by  the  Creator  himself. 

NINYAS. 7  This  prince  was  in  no  respect  like  thos* 
from  whom  he  received  his  birth,  and  to  whose  thron* 
he  succeeded.  Wholly  intent  upon  his  pleasures,  he 
kept  himself  shut  up  in  his  palace,  and  seldom  showed 
himself  to  his  people.  To  keep  them  in  their  duty, 
he  had  always  at  Nineveh  a  certain  number  of  regu- 
lar troops,  furnished  even-year  from  the  several  pro- 
vinces of  his  empire,  at  the  expiration  of  which  t<  rm 
they  were  succeeded  by  the  like  number  of  other 
troops  on  the  same  conditions;  the  king  putting  a 
commander  at  the  head  of  them,  on  whose  fidelity  he 
could  depend.  He  made  use  of  this  method,  tluit  the 
officers  might  not  have  time  to  gain  the  affections  of 
the  soldiers,  and  so  form  any  conspiracies  a»;unst  him. 

His  successors,  for  thirty  generations,  followed  his 
example, and  even  surpassed  him  in  indolence.  Their 
history  is  absolutely  unknown,  there  remaining'  no 
footsteps  of  it. 

In  Abraham's  time  the  Scripture 
speaks  of  Amraphael,  king  of  Shi-  A.  M.  2092. 

nar,  the  country  where  Babylon  Ant.  J,  C.  1912, 
was  situated,  who  with  two  other 
princes  followed  Chedorlaomer,  king  of  the  Elamites, 
whose  tributary  he  probably  was,  in  the  war  carried 
on  by  the  latter  against  five  kings  of  the  land  of  Ca 
naan. 

It  was  under  the  government  of 
these  inactive  princes  that  Sesos-  A.  M.  2513 

tris,  king  of  F.gypt,  extended    his     Ant.  J.  C.  1491 
conquests  so  far  in  the  East.     But 
as  his  power  was  of  a  short  duration,  and  not  sup- 
ported by  his  successors,  the  Assyrian  empiie  sooi 
returned  to  its  former  state. 

Plato,8  a  curious  observer  of  an- 
tiquities,  makes   the    kingdom    of  A.  M.  28981 
Troy,  in  the  time  of  Priam,  depend-     Ant.  J.  C.  1184 
ant  on  the   Assyrian  empire.    And 


•  De  admistr.  dom.  p.  830. 
i  De  Log.  I.  iii.  685. 


i  Dk>d.  I.  ii.  »  108. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


139 


ti-  »ays  tliat  Teutamus,  the  twentieth  king  after 
Ninyas,  si  nt  a  considerable  body  of  troops  to  the  as- 
sistance of  the  Trojans,  under  the  conduct  of  Meiu- 
non,  the  son  of  Tithonus,  at  a  time  when  the  Assy- 
rian empire  had  subsisted  above  1000  years;  which 
agrees  exactly  with  the  time  wherein  1  have  placed 
the  foundation  of  that  empire.  But  ihe  silence  ot 
Homer  concerning  so  mighty  a  people,  and  one  which 
must  needs  have  been  well  known,  renders  this  fact 
exceeding  doubtful.  And  it  must  be  owned,  that 
whatever  relates  to  the  times  of  the  ancient  history  of 
tiie  Assyrians,  is  attended  with  great  difficulties,  into 
Irhich  my  plan  does  not  permit  me  to  enter. 

PUL.'     The  Scripture  informs  us 

A.  M.  3233.     that    Pul,  king    of   Assyria,    being 

Ant.  J.  C.  771.     come  into  the  land  of  Israel,  had 

1000  talents  of  silver  given  him  by 

Menahem,  king  of  the  ten  tribes,  to  engage  him  to 

lend  him  assistance,  and  secure  him  on  his  throne. 

This  Pul  is  supposed  to  be  the  king  of  Nineveh 
who  repented  with  all  his  people,  at  the  preaching  of 
Jonah. 

He  is  also  thought  to  be  the  father  of  Sardanapalus, 
the  last  king  of  the  Assyrians,  called,  according  to 
the  custom  of  the  eastern  nations,  Sardanpul;  that  is 
to  say,  Sardan,  the  son  of  Pul.2 

SARDANAPALUS.3  This  prince  surpassed  all  his 
predecessors  in  effeminacy,  luxury  and  cowardice.  He 
never  went  out  of  his  palace,  but  spent  all  his  time 
Huong  a  company  of  women,  dressed  and  painted 
like  them,  and  employed  like  them  at  the  distatf.  He 
placed  all  his  happiness  and  glory  in  the  possession  of 
immense  treasures,  in  feasting  and  rioting,  and  indulg- 
ing himself  in  all  the  most  infamous  and  criminal 
pleasures.  He  ordered  two  verses  to  be  put  upon  his 
tomb,  which  imported,  that  he  carried  away  with  him 
all  that  he  had  eaten,  and  all  the  pleasures  he  had  en- 
joyed, but  left  all  the  rest  behind  hii::. 

Hav.  habeo  qute  edi,  quipqoe  exsaturata  libido 
Hauxic  :  at  ilia  jacent  multa  et  prsrclura  relicta.* 
An  epitaph,  says  Aristotle,  fit  for  a  hog. 

Arbares,  governor  of  Media,  having  found  means 
to  get  into  the  palace,  and  having  with  his  own  eves 
teen  Sardanapalus  in  the  midst  of  his  infamous  se- 
raglio; enraged  at  such  a  spectacle,  and  not  able 
to  «  n  lure  that  so  many  brave  men  should  be  subject 
to  a  prince,  more  soft  and  effeminate  than  the  women 
themselves,  immediately  formed  a  conspiracy  against 
him.  Belesis,  governor  of  Babylon,  and  several  others, 
entered  into  it.  On  the  first  rumour  of  this  revolt,  the 
kinir  hid  himself  in  the  inmost  part  of  his  palace.  Being 
obliged  afterwards  to  take  the  field  with  some  forces 
which  he  had  assembled,  he  at  first  gained  three  succes- 
sive victories  over  the  enemy,  but  was  afterwards  over- 
come, and  pursued  to  the  gates  of  Nineveh;  wherein 
he  shut  himself,  in  hopes  the  reb<  Is  would  never  be  able 
to  take  a  city  so  well  fortified,  and  stored  with  provi- 
sions for  a  considerable  time:  the  siege  proved  in- 
deed of  very  great  length.  It  had  been  declared  by 
an  ancient  oracle,  that  Nineveh  could  never  be  taken, 
uiilix  the  river  became  an  enemy  to  the  city.  These 
words  buoyed  up  Sardanapalus,  because  he  looked 
upon  the  thing  as  impossible.  But 

A.  M.  3257.  when  he  saw  that  the  Tigris,  by  a 
Ant.  J.  C.  747.  violent  inundation,  had  thrown  down 
twenty  stadia5  of  the  city  wall,  and 
by  that  means  opened  a  passage  to  the  enemy,  he  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  the  oracje,  and  thought  himself 
lost.  He  re-olved,  however,  to  die  in  such  a  manner, 
as,  according  to  his  opinion,  should  cover  the  infamy 
of  his  scandalous  and  effeminate  life.  He  ordered  "a 
oile  of  wood  to  be  made  in  his  palace,  and  setting 

i  2  Kmgg.  xv.  19.  *  Sardan,  Ihe  Son  of  fvl. 

«  Di<>d.   I.   ii.   p.    109—  lir.     Athen.  1.   xii.   p.   5-29,  5 
JUKI    I.  i   F..  3. 

«  K.'iv'  Ix  »  5  ITT'  7s»ys»«»i  iri5»io-»,«»;  ^IT'  ?f  XT:; 

Tifirv'  f-r»J5».  ri  a,  T3XX.X  *»i  «>.3.»  *ivra  &>*.u:rTai. 
Quid  iiliuil.  inquit  Ari«totple<i.  in  bovi.«.  non  in  rejris  sopul- 
•hrn,  insrriheren  ?  H.vc  hal>cre  oe  mortuum  dicil,  qu»>  ne 
vivu«  ijuiili'm  iliulius  liuln-lj.it,  quam  fruebaiur  Cic.  Tune. 
Qu<f.-i.  lib.  v.  n.  101  •  Two  miW  and  a  half. 


. 

530. 


fire  to  it,  burnt  himself,  his  eunuchs,  his  women,  and 
his  treasures.  A thenaeus  makes  these  treasures  amount 
to  a  thousand  myriads  of  talents  of  gold,6  and  ten 
times  as  many  talents  of  silver,  which,  without  reckon 
ing  any  thing  else,  is  a  sum  that  exceeds  all  credibility. 
A  myriad  contains  10,000;  and  one  single  myriad  of 
talents  of  silver  is  worth  30,000,000  of  French"  money, 
or  about  1.400.000/.  sterling.  A  man  is  lost,  if  he 
attempts  to  sum  up  the  whole  value;  which  induces 
me  to  believe,  that  Athenaeus  must  have  very  much 
exaggerated  in  his  computation;  however,  we  may  be 
assured,  from  his  account,  that  the  treasures  were*  im- 
mensely great. 

Plutarch,''  in  his  second  treatise,  dedicated  to  the 
praise  of  Alexander  the  Great,  wherein  he  examines  in 
whatthe  truegreatness  of  princes  consists.after  having 
shown  that  it  can  arise  from  nothing  but  their  own 
personal  merit,  confirms  it  by  two  very  different  ex- 
amples, taken  from  the  history  of  the  Assyrians,  in 
which  we  are  now  engaged. — Semiramis  and  Sar- 
danapalus (says  he)  both  governed  the  same  king- 
dom: both  had  the  same  people,  the  same  extent  of 
country,  the  same  revenues,  the  same  forces  and 
number  of  troops;  but  they  had  not  the  same  dispo- 
sitions, nor  the  same  views.  Semiramis,  raising  her- 
self above  her  sex,  built  magnificent  cities,  equipped 
fleets,  armed  legions,  subdued  neighbouring  nations, 
penetrated  into  Arabia  and  Ethiopia,  and  carried  her 
victorious  arms  to  the  extremities  of  Asia,  spreading 
consternation  and  terror  every  where.  Whereas  Sar- 
danapalus, as  if  he  had  entirely  renounced  his  sex, 
spent  all  his  time  in  the  heart  of  his  palace,  perpetu- 
ally surrounded  with  a  company  of  women,  whose 
dress  and  even  manners  he  had  adopted,  applying 
himself  with  them  to  the  spindle  and  the  distaff 
neither  understanding  nor  doing  any  other  thing  than 
spinning,  eating  and  drinking,  and  wallowing  in  all 
manner  of  infamous  pleasure.  Accordingly,  a  statue 
was  erected  to  him,  after  his  death,  which  represented 
him  in  the  posture  of  a  dancer,  with  an  inscription 
upon  it,  in  which  he  addressed  himself  to  the  specta- 
tor in  these  words:  Eat , drink , and  be  merry;  every 
thing  else  i$  nothing:*  an  inscription  very  suitable  to 
the  epitaph  he  himself  bad  ordered  to  be  put  upon  his 
monument. 

Plutarch  in  this  place  judges  of  Semiramis,  as  al- 
most all  the  profane  historians  do  of  the  grlory  of  con- 
querors. But  if  we  would  make  a  true  judgment  of 
things,  was  the  unbounded  ambition  of  that  queen 
much  less  blameable,  than  the  dissolute  effeminacy  of 
Sardanapalus?  Which  of  the  two  vices  did  most  mis- 
chief to  mankind? 

We  are  not  to  wonder  that  the  Assyrian  empire 
should  fall  under  such  a  prince;  but  undoubtedly  it 
was  not  till  after  having  passed  through  various  a'ug- 
mentations,  diminutions,  and  revolutions,  common  to 
all  states,  even  to  the  greatest,  during  the  course  of 
several  ages.  This  empire  had  subsisted  above  1450 
years. 

Of  the  ruins  of  this  vast  empire  were  formed  three 
considerable  kingdoms;  that  of  the  Medes,  which 
Arbaces.  the  principal  head  of  the  conspiracy,  restored 
to  its  liberty :  that  of  the  Assyrians  of  Baby'lon,  which 
was  given  to  Belesis,  governor  of  that  city;  and  that 
of  the  Assyrians  of  Nineveh,  the  first  king  whereof 
took  the  name  of  Ninu*  the  younger. 

In  order  to  understand  tne  history  of  the  second 
Assyrian  empire,  which  is  very  obscure  and  of  which 
little  is  said  by  historians,  it  is  proper,  and  even  abso- 
lutely necessary,  to  compare  what  is  said  of  it  by  pro- 
fane authors  with  what  we  are  informed  concerning 
it  by  Holy  Scripture:  that  by  the  help  of  that  double 
light  we  may  have  the  clearer  idea  of  the  two  empirei 
of  Nineveh  and  Babylon,  which  for  some  time  were 
separate  and  distinct,  and  afterwards  united  ar.d  con- 
founded together.  I  shall  first  treat  of  this  second 
Assyrian  empire,  and  then  return  to  the  kingdom  of 
the  .Medes. 


•  About  1,400,000.000*.  sterling. 

•  "£7911.  wi*i    «eo  Jiiriai  T*  = 


1  Pag.  .135.  MB. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   SECOND  ASSYRIAN  EMPIRE  BOTH   OF  NINEVEH 
A.ND  BABYLON. 

THIS  second  Assyrian  empire  continued  210  years, 
reckoning  to  the  year  in  which  Cyrus,  who  was  be- 
come absolute  master  of  the  East  by  the  death  of  his 
father  Cambyses,  and  his  father-in-law  Cyaxeres, 
published  the  famous  edict,  whereby  the  Jews  were 
permitted  to  return  into  their  own  country,  after  a 
ieventy  years'  captivity  at  Babylon. 
King's  of  Babylon, 

BELESIS.'     He   is  the  same   as 

A.  M.  3257.     Nabonassar,  from  whose  reign  be- 

Ant.  J.  C.  747.     gan  the  famous  astronomical  epocha 

at  Babylon,  called  from  his  name 

the  ./Era  ofJVabonassar.    In  the  Holy  Scriptures  he  is 

called  Baladin.     He  reigned  but  twelve  years,  and 

was  succeeded  by  his  son. 

MERODACH-BALADAN.*  This  is  the  prince  who 
gent  ambassadors  to  king  Hezekiah,  to  congratulate 
him  on  the  recovery  of  his  health,  of  which  we  shall 
gpeak  hereafter.  After  him  there  reigned  several 
other  kings  of  Babylon,3  with  whose  story  we  are 
entirely  unacquainted.  I  shall  therefore  proceed  to 
the  kings  of  Nineveh. 

King-$  of  Nineveh. 

TlGLATH-PlLESER.      This  IS  the 

A.  M.  3257.  name  given  by  the  Holy  Scriptures 
Ant.  J.  C.  727.  to  the  king,  who  is  sup'posed  to  be 
the  first  that  reigned  at  Nineveh, 
after  the  destruction  of  the  ancient  Assyrian  empire. 
He  is  called  Thilgaruus,  by  jElian.*  He  is  said  to 
have  taken  the  name  of  A'inus  the  younger,  in  order 
to  honour  and  distinguish  his  reign  by  the  name  of  so 
ancient  and  illustrious  a  prince. 

Ahaz,*  king  of  Judah,  whose  incorrigible  impiety 
could  not  be  reclaimed,  either  by  the  divine  favours  o"r 
chastisements,  finding  himself  attacked  at  the  same 
time  by  the  kings  of  Syria  and  Israel,  robbed  the 
temple  of  part  of  its  gotd  and  silver,  and  sent  it  to 
Tisjlath-Pileser,  to  purchase  his  assistance:  promising 
him  besides  to  become  his  vassal,  and  to  pav  him  tri- 
bute. The  king  of  Assyria,  finding  so  favourable  an 
opportunity  of  adding  Syria  and  Palestine  to  his  em- 
pire, readily  accepted  the  proposal.  Advancing  that 
way  with  a  numerous  army,  he  beat  Rezin,  took  Da- 
mascus, and  put  an  end  to  the  kingdom  erected  there 
by  the  Syrians,  as  God  had  foretold  by  his  prophets 
Isaiah  and  Amos.'  From  thence  he  marched  against 
Pekah.  and  took  all  that  belonged  to  the  kingdom  of 
Israel  beyond  Jordan,  as  well  as  all  Galilee.  But  he 
made  Ahaz  pay  very  dear  for  his  protection,  still  ex- 
acting of  him  such  exorbitant  sums  of  money,  that  for 
the  payment  of  them  he  was  obliged  not  only  to  ex- 
haust his  own  treasures,  but  to  take  all  the  gold  and 
silver  of  the  temple.  Thus  this  alliance  served  only 
to  drain  the  kingdom  of  Judah,  and  to  bring  into  its 
neighbourhood  the  powerful  kings  of  Nineveh;  who 
afterwards  became  so  many  instruments  in  the  hand 
of  God  for  the  chastisement  of  his  people. 

.    SHAI.MANESER.T    Sabacus,   the 

A.  M.  3276.  Ethiopian,  whom  the  Scripture  calls 
Ant.  J.  C.  728.  So,  having  made  himself  master  of 
E<rypt.  Hoshea,  king  of  Samaria, 
entered  into  an  alliance  with  him,  hoping  bv  that 
means  to  shake  off  the  Assyrian  yoke.  To  this  end 
he  withdrew  from  his  dependence  iipon  Shalmaneser, 
refusing:  to  pay  him  any  further  tribute,  or  make  him 
the  usunl  presents. 

Shalmaneser,  to  punish  him  for  his  presumption, 
marched  against  him  with  a  powerful  anuv:  mid 
after  having  subdued  nil  the  plain  country,  shut  him 
op  in  Samaria,  where  he  kept  him  closely  besieged 
for  three  year*;  at  the  end  of  which  he  took  the  citv. 
loaded  Hoshea  with  chains,  and  threw  him  into 


i  2  Km**,  xi.  12.  •  Ibid.  t  Can.  Ptol. 

«  Lib.  xii.  Hist.  Anim.  c.  21.  Cantor  apnd  L'neb.  Cliron 
p.  49.  •  2  Kir.jrs.  xvi.  7,  A/, 

•  I«.  »iii.  4  Amos.  i.  i  iSKingt  xvii. 


prison  for  the  rest  of  his  days;  carried  away  the  peo 
pie  captive,  and  planted  thtni  in  Halah  and  Habor 
cities  of  the  Medeg.  And  thus  was  the  kingdom  of 
Israel,  or  of  the  ten  tribes,  destroyed,  as  God  had 
often  threatened  by  his  prophets.  This  kingdom, 
from  the  time  of  its  separation  from  that  of  Judah, 
lasted  about  250  years. 

It   was  at    this    time   that  Tobit,*  with  Anna  hit 
wife,  and  his   son  Tobias,  was  carried   captive  into 
Assyria,  where  he  became  one  of  the  principal  offi 
cers  of  king  Shalmaneser. 

J-halmaneser  died  after  having  reigned  fourteen 
years,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son. 

SENNACHERIH.'  He  isalso  called 
Sargon  in  Scripture.  A.  M.  3287. 

Ant.  J.  C.  717. 

As  soon  as  this  prince  wag  settled 
on  the  throne,  he  renewed  the  demand  exacted  bv  hi» 
father  from  Hezekiah.  Upon  his  refusal,  he  decfared 
war  against  him,  and  entered  into  Judea  with  a 
mighty  army.  Hezekiah,  grieved  to  see  his  kingdom 
pillaged,  sent  ambassadors  to  him  to  desire  peace 
upon  any  terms  he  would  prescribe.  Sennacherib, 
seemingly  mollified,  entered  into  treaty  wfth  him,  and 
demanded  a  very  great  sum  of  gold  and  silver.  The 
holv  king  exhausted  both  the  treasures  of  the  temple, 
and"  his  own  coffers,  to  pay  it.  The  Assyrian  re- 
garding neither  the  sanction  of  oaths,  nor  treaties, 
still  continued  the  war,  and  pushed  on  his  conquest 
more  vigorously  than  ever.  Nothing  was  able  to 
withstand  his  power,  and  of  all  the  strong  places 
of  Judah,  none  remained  untaken  but  Jerusalem, 
which  was  likewise  reduced  to  the  utmost  extremity. 
At  this  very  junction  Sennacherib  was  informed,10  thai 
Tirhakah  king  of  Ethiopia,  who  had  joined  his  forces 
with  those  of  the  king  of  Egypt,  was  coming  up  to 
succour  the  besieged  city.  Now  it  was  contrary  to 
the  express  command  of  God,  as  well  as  the  remon- 
strances of  Isaiah  and  Hezekiuh,  that  the  chief  men 
at  Jerusalem  had  required  any  foreign  assistance. 
The  Assyrian  prince  marched  immediately  to  meet 
the  approaching  enemy,  after  having  written  a  letter 
to  Hezekiah,  full  of  b'lasphemy  against  the  God  of 
Israel,  whom  he  insolently  boasted  he  would  speedily 
vanquish,  as  he  had  done  all  the  gods  of  the  other 
nations  round  about  him.  In  short,  he  discomfited 
the  Egyptians,  and  pursued  them  even  into  their  own 
country,  which  he  ravaged,  and  returned  laden  witb> 
spoil. 

It  was  probably  during  Sennacherib's  absence, •• 
which  was  pretty  long,  or  at  least  some  little  time 
before,  that  Hezekiah  fell  sick,  and  was  cured  in  it 
miraculous  manner;  and  that  (as  a  sign  of  God's  ful- 
filling the  promise  he  had  made  him  of  curing  him  so 
perfectly,  that  within  three  days  he  should  be  able  to 
go  to  the  temple)  the  shadow  of  the  sun  went  ten  de- 
grees backwards  upon  the  dial  of  the  palace.  Mero- 
dach-Baladan,  king  of  Babylon,  being  informed  of 
the  miraculous  cure  of  king  Hezekiah,  sent  ambassa- 
dors to  him.  with  letters  and  preset  ts,  to  congratulate 
him  upon  that  occasion,  and  to  acquaint  themselves 
with  the  miracle  that  had  happened  in  the  land  at  this 
juncture,  with  respect  to  the  sun's  retrogradation  ten 
degrees.  Hezekiah  was  extremely  sensible  of  the 
honour  done  him  by  that  prince,  and  very  forward  to 
show  his  ambassadors  the  riches  and  treasures  he 
possessed,  and  to  let  them  we  the  whole  magnificence 
of  his  palace.  Humanly  speaking,  there  was  nothing 
in  this  proceeding  but  what  was  allowable  and  com- 
mendable; but  in  the  eyes  of  the  supreme  Judge, 
which  are  infinitely  more  piercing  and  delicate  than 
ourg,  thig  action  discovered  a  lurking  pride,  and  secret 
vanity,  with  which  his  righteousness  was  offended. 
Accordingly,  he  instantly  informed  the  king  bv  his 
prophet  Isaiah, that  the  nches  and  treasure*  Thich  he 
had  been  showing  to  those  ambassadors  with  so  much 
ostentation,  should  one  day  be  transported  to  Baby, 
Ion;  and  that  his  children  should  be  carried  thither,  to 
become  servants  in  the  palace  of  that  monarch.  This 

•  Tub.  e.  i  •  !•.  xx.  i.     2  Kingi,  xviii.  xix, 

»»2  Kingi.  six.  0. 

»  2  Kiiign,  xx.    2  Chron.  xxiii.  24—31. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


141 


«ras  then  utterly  improbable;  for  Babylon,  at  the  time 
ire  are  speaking  of.  was  then  in  friendship  Bnd  alli- 
ance with  Jerusalem,  as  appears  by  her  having'  sent 
•nibn-sadors  thither;  nor  did  Jerusalem  then  seem  to 
have  any  thing  to  fear,  but  from  Nineveh;  whose 
power  was  at  that  time  formidable,  and  who  had  en- 
tirely declared  against  her.  But  the  fortune  of  those 
two  cities  was  to  change,  and  the  word  of  God  was 
literally  accomplished. 

Hut  to  return  to  Sennacherib.  After  he  had  rava- 
ged Egypt,  and  taken  avast  number  of  prisoners,1  he 
came  hack  with  his  victorious  army,  encamped  before 
Jerusalem,  and  besieged  it  anew.  The  city  seemed 
to  be  inevitably  lost:  it  was  without  resource,  and 
without  hope  from  the  hands  of  men;  but  had  a  pow- 
erful protector  in  Heaven,  whose  jealous  ears  had 
heard  the  impious  blasphemies  uttered  by  the  king  of 
Nineveh  against  his  sacred  name.  In  one  single  night 
185,000  men  of  his  army  perished  by  the  sword  of  the 
destroying  angel.  After  so  terrible  a  blow,  this  pre- 
tended king  of  kings  (for  so  he  called  himself),  this 
triumpher  over  nations,  and  conqueror  even  of  gods, 
was  obliged  to  return  to  his  own  country  with  the 
miserable  remnant  of  his  army,  covered  w'ith  shame 
and  confusion;  nor  did  he  survive  his  defeat  more 
than  a  lew  months,  onlv  to  make  a  kind  of  open  con- 
fession of  his  crime  to  God,  whose  supreme  majesty 
he  had  presumed  to  insult,  and  who  now,  to  use  «.he 
Scripture  terms,  having;>n/a  ring-  into  his  nose  and  a 
bridle  into  his  month,  as  a  wild  beast,  made  him  return 
in  that  humbled,  afflicted  condition,  through  those 
very  countries,  which  a  little  before  had  beheld  him  so 
haughty  and  imperious. 

his  return  to  Nineveh,  being  enraged  at  his 
disgrace,  he  treated  his  subjects  in  the  most  cruel  and 
tyrannical  manner.  The  effects  of  his  fury  fell  more 
heavily  upon  the  Jews  and  Israelites,*  of  whom  he 
caused  great  numbers  to  be  massacred  every  day, 
ordering:  their  bodies  to  be  left  exposed  in  the  streets, 
*nd  sutfering  no  man  to  give  them  burial.  Tobit,  to 
avoid  his  cruelty,  was  oblifed  to  conceal  himself  for 
gome  time,  and  surfer  all  his  effects  to  be  confiscated. 
In  short,  the  king's  savage  temper  rendered  him  so 
insupportable  to  nis  own  family,  that  his  two  eldest 
ton?  conspired  against  him.  and  killed  him  in  the  tem- 
ple,3 in  the  presence  of  his  god  Nisroch,  as  he  lay 
prostrate  betore  him.  But  these  two  princes  being 
obliged  after  this  parricide  to  fly  into  Armenia,  left  the 
kingdom  to  Esarbaddon,  their  youngest  brother. 

ESARHADDON  .<  We  have  already 

A.  M.  3294.  observed,  that  after  Merodach-Bala- 
Ant.  J.  C.  710.  dan  there  was  a  succession  of  kings 
at  Babylon,  of  whom  history  has 
transmitted  nothing  but  the  names.  The  royal  family 
beco-ning  extinct,  there  was  an  eight  years'  interreg- 
num, full  of  troubles  and  commotions.  Esarhaddoti, 
taking  advantage  of  this  juncture,  made  himself  mas- 
ter of  Babylon,  and  annexing  it  to  his  former  domi- 
nions, reigned  over  the  two  united  empires  thirteen 
years. 

After  having  re-united  to  the  Assyrian  empire  Svria 
and  Palestine,  which  had  been  rent  from  it  in  the  pre- 
ceding reign,  he  entered  the  land  of  Israel,  where  he 
took  captive  a*  many  as  were  left  there,  and  carried 
them  into  Assyria,  e'xcept  an  inconsiderable  number 
that  escaped  his  pursuit.  But  that  the  country  might 
dot  hrcome  a  desert,  he  sent  colonies  of  idolatrous 
people,  taken  out  of  the  countries  beyond  the  Eu- 
phrates, to  dwell  in  the  citiet  of  Samaria.  The  pre- 
diction of  Isaiah  was  then  fulfilled;  wit  tin  fhreeicorc 
an<!_firt  year*  shall  Ephraim  bt  broken,  >l  at  it  be  no 
more  a  ptople.*  This  was  exactly  the  space  of  time 
which  elapsed  retween  the  prediction  and  the  event: 
and  the  per^ie  jf  Isreal  did  then  cease  to  be  a  visible 
nation,  "^rhat  <v?s  left  of  them  being  altogether  mixed 
and  confrand'xd  with  other  nations. 

This  pr'..ee  having  possessed  himself  of  the  land 
»f  Israel.'  <"  .it  some  of  hii  generals  with  part  of  his 
army  into  Juoea,  to  reduce  that  country  likewise  nn- 


«  2  Kin»»,  xii.  35-37. 
i  2  KinS«,  zix.  37. 


«  Tohit.  i.  18-21. 

«Can.  Pu>l. 

•  at'tiron.  zzxiii.  11,  13 


der  his  subjection.  These  generals  defeated  Manas- 
seh,  and  having  taken  him  prisoner,  brougi  t  him  tn 
Esarhaddon,  who  put  him  in  chains,  and  car.-itd  him 
with  him  to  Babylon.  But  Manasseh,  having  after- 
wards appeased  the  wrath  of  God  by  a  sincere  and 
lively  repentance,  obtained  his  liuerty,  and  returned 
to  Jerusalem. 

Meantime  the  colonies,7  that  had  been  sent  into 
Samaria,  in  the  room  of  its  ancient  inhabitants,  were 
grievously  infested  with  lions.  The  king  of  Babylon 
being  told  that  the  cause  of  this  calamity  was  their 
not  worshipping  the  God  of  the  country,  ordered  an 
Israelitish  priest  to  be  sent  to  them,  from  among  the 
captives  brought  from  that  country,  to  teach  th«  m  the 
woiship  of  the  God  of  Israel.  But  these  idolaters  did 
no  more  than  admit  the  true  God  amongst  their  an- 
cient divinities,  and  worshipped  him  jointly  with  theii 
false  deities.  This  corrupt  worship  continued  after- 
wards, and  was  the  primary  source  of  the  aversion 
entertained  by  the  Jews  against  the  Samaritans. 

Esarhaddon,  after  a  prosperous  reign  of  thirty-nine 
years  over  the  Assyrians,  and  thirteen  over  the  Baby- 
lonians, was  succeeded  by  his  son. 

SAOSDUCHIMJS.    This'  prince  is 
called  in  Scripture  Nabuchodono-         A.    M.   3335. 
sor,  which    name  was    common  to     Ant.  J.  C.  669. 
the  kings  of  Babylon.     To  distin- 
guish this  from  the  others,  he  is  called  Nabuchod- 
onosor  the  First. 

Tobit  was  still  alive  at  this  time,*  and  dwelt  among 
other  captives  at  Nineveh.  1'erceiving  his  end  ap- 
proaching, he  foretold  to  his  children  the  sudden 
destruction  of  that  city;  of  which  at  that  time  there 
was  not  the  least  appearance.  He  advised  them  to 
quit  the  city  before  its  ruin  came  on,  and  to  depart  as 
soon  as  they  had  buried  him  and  his  wife. 

The  ruin  ofJnneveh  is  at  hand,  says  the  gooa  old 
man,*  abide  no  lon^erhere,for  I  perceive  the  wicked' 
nessof  the  city  icilloccasionitsdestruction.  These  last 
words  are  very  remarkable,  the  wickedness  of  the  city 
will  occasion  its  destruction.  Men  will  be  apt  to  im- 
pute the  ruin  of  Nineveh  to  any  other  reason;  but  we 
are  taught  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  her  unrighteous 
ness  was  the  true  cause  of  it,  as  it  will  be  with  othe/ 
state«  that  imitate  her  crimes. 

Nabuchodonosor  defeated  the  king  of  the  Medes,* 
in  a  pitched  battle,  fought  the  twelfth  year  of  his 
reign  upon  the  plain  of  Ragau,  took  Ecbatana,  the 
capital  of  his  kingdom,  and  returned  triumphant  to 
Nineveh.  When  we  come  to  treat  of  the  history  of 
the  Medes,  we  shall  give  a  more  particular  account 
of  this  victory. 

It  was  immediately  afterthis  expedition,  that  Bethu- 
lia  was  besieged  by  Holofernes,  one  of  Nabuchodo- 
nosor's  generals:  and  that  the  famous  enterprise  of 
Judith  w:is  accomplished. 

SARACUS,"  otherwise  called  CHY- 
NALADANUS.     This  prince  succeeded        A.  M.  3356. 
Saosduchinus;    and  having  rendered     Ant.J.C.648. 
himself  contemptible  to  his  subjects, 
by  his  effeminacy,  and  the  little  care  he  took  of  his 
dominions,  Nabopolassar,  the  Babylonian  by  birth, 
and  general  of  his  army,  usurped  that  part"  of  tho 
Assyrian  empire,  and  reigned  over  it  one-and-lwenty 
years. 

NABOPOLASSAR.    This  prince,  the 
better  to  maintain  his  usurped  sove-         A.M. 3378. 
reignty,  made  an  alliance  with  Cy-     Ant.J.C.  626. 
axares',  king    of  the    Medes.     With 
their  joint  forces  they  besieged  and  took  Nineveh, 
killed  Saracus,  and  utterly  destroyed  thit  great  city. 
We  shall  speak  more  largely  of  this  great  event,  when 
we  come  to  the  history  of  th'e  Medes.     From  this  time 
forwards  the  city  of  fiabylon  became  the  only  capita, 
of  the  Assyrian  empire. 

The  Babylonians  and  the  Medes, having  destroyed 
Nineveh,  became  so  formidable,  that  they  drew  npor 
themselvesthe  jealousy  of  all  theirne.ighbours.  Necho, 
king  of  Egypt,  was  so  alarmed  at  their  power,  thai 
to  stop  their  progress  he  marched  towards  the  Eu- 


'2  Kin-8,  xrii.24— 41. 
•  Judiih.  i.  5,  6.  13—15. 


•  Tohit,  «i».  4— 15. 
>•  Alex.  Poljrbin. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS 


phrates  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  armv,  and  made 
several  considerable  conquests.  See  the  history  ot  the 
Egyptians  for  what  relates  to  this  expedition,  and  the 
consequences  thai  attended  it. 

IVabopplassar  finding.*  that  after  the  taking  of 
Carcheniish  bv  ISecho,  all  Syria  and  Palestine  had 
revolted  from  Vim,  and  neither  his  age  nor  infirmities 
permitting  him  to  go  in  person  to  recover  them,  he 
made  his  sun  JXaburhodonosor  partner  with  him  in  the 
empire,  and  sent  him  with  an  army- to  reduce  those 
countries  to  their  former  subjection. 

From  this  time  the  Jews  begin  to 

A.  M.  3398.     reckon  the  years  of  IS'abuchodonosor, 

Ant.  J.  C.  606.    viz.  from  tlie  end  of  the  third  year  of 

Jehoiakim,  king  of  Judah,  or  rather 

from  the  beginning  of  the  fourth.     But  the  Babyloni- 

ns  compute  the  reign  of  this  prince  only  from  the 

death  of  his  father,  which  happened  t\vo  years  later. 

JVABUCHODONGSOR  II.2  This  prince  defeated  TS'e- 
cho's  army,  near  the  Euphrates,  and  retook  Carche- 
niish. From  thence  he  marched  towards  Syria  and  Pa- 
lestine, and  reunited  those  provinces  to  his  dominions. 

He  likewise  entered  Judea,  s  besieged  Jerusalem, 
and  took  it:  he  caused  Jehoiakim  to  be  put  in  chains, 
with  a  design  to  have  him  carried  to  Babylon;  but 
being  moved  with  his  repentance  and  affliction,  he 
restored  him  to  the  throne.  Great  numbers  of  the 
Jews,  and,  among  the  rest,  some  children  of  the  royal 
family,  werecarned  captive  to  Babylon,  whither  all  the 
treasures  of  the  king's  palace, and  a  part  of  the  sacred 
vessels  of  the  temple,  were  likewise  transported. 
Thus  was  the  judgment  which  God  had  denounced 
by  the  prophet'lsaiah  to  king  Heiekiah  accomplished. 
From  this  famous  epocha,  which  was  the  fourth  year 
of  Jehoiakim,  king  of  Judah,  we  are  to  date  the  cap- 
tivity of  the  Jews  at  Babylon,  so  often  foretold  by 
Jeremiah.  Daniel,  then  but  twelve  years  old,4  was 
carried  captive  among  the  rest;  and  Ezekiel  sometime 
afterwards. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  fifth  year  of  Jehoiakim,  died 
Nabopolassar,  king  of  Babylon,5  after  having  reigned 
one-aud-twenty  years.  As  soon  as  his  son  ISabucho- 
donosor  had  news  of  his  death,  he  set  out  with  all  ex- 
pedition for  Bab\  Ion,  taking  the  nearest  way  through 
the  desert,  attended  only  with  a  small  retinue,  leaving 
the  bulk  of  his  army  with  his  generals,  to  be  conducted 
to  Babylon  with  the  captives  and  spoils.  On  his  arri- 
val, he  received  the  government  from  the  hands  of 
those  that  had  carefully  preserved  it  for  him,  and  so 
succeeded  to  all  the  dominions  of  his  father,  which 
comprehended  Chaldea,  Assyria,  Arabia,  Syria,  and 
Palestine,  over  which,  according  to  Ptolemy,  he 
reigned  forty-three  years. 

In  the  fourth  year  of  his  reign  he 

A.  M.  3401.  had  a  dream,6  at  which  he  was  great- 
Ant.  J.  C.  603.  ly  terrified,  though  he  could  not  call 
it  again  to  mind.  He  therefore  con- 
sulted the  wise  men  and  soothsayers  of  his  kingdom, 
requiringof  them  to  make  known  to  him  the  substance 
of  nis  dream.  They  all  answered  that  it  was  beyond 
the  reach  of  their  art  to  discover  it;  and  that  the 
utmost  they  could  do,  was  to  give  the  interpretation 
of  his  dream,  when  he  had  made  it  known  to  them. 
As  absolute  princes  are  not  accustomed  to  meet  with 
opposition,  but  will  be  obeyed  in  all  things,  Nabu- 
cnodonosor.  imagining  they  dealt  insincerely  with  him, 
fell  into  a  violent  rage,  and  condemned  them  all  to 
die.  Now  Daniel  and  his  three  companions  were 
included  in  the  sentence,  as  being  ranked  among  the 
wise  men.  But  Daniel  having  first  invoked  his  God 
desired  to  be  introduced  to  the  king,  to  whom  he 
revealed  the.  whole  substance  of  his  dream.  The 
thing  than  sawesl,  says  he  to  him,  was  an  image  of 
an  enormous  size,  and  a  terrible  countenance.  The 
'head  (hereof  was  of  gold,  the  breast  and  arms  of  silver, 
the  belly  and  thighs  of  brass,  and  the  feet  part  of  iron 


i  Beroi.  npud  Joseph.  Antiq.  I.  x.  c.  11.  and  con.  Ap.  I.  L 

*  Jcr  xlvi.  2.     2  Kin«r»  xxiv.  7, 

*  Man.  i.  1—7.    2O>nm   xxxvi.  6,  7. 

*  Some  imagine  him  to  have  been  eighteen  year*  of  age  at 
llii«  time. 

»C;in.  Ptol     Beroi.  apud   Jowph.  Antiq.  1.  x.  c.  11.  and 
Ion.  A  p.  1  x.  •  l>an.  ii. 


and  part  of  clay.  And  as  the  ktng  was  attentively 
hokniir  upon  that  vision,  behold  a  stone  was  cut  (nit 
of  a  mountain  without  hands,  and  the  stone  smote  tht 
image  upon  his  feet,  and  brake  them  to  pieces;  the 
whole  image  was  ground  as  small  as  dust,  and  /he  stone 
became  a  great  mountain,  and  filled  the  wh  >/e  earth, 
When  Daniel  had  related  the  dream,  he  ga>e  the  king 
likewise  the  interpretation  thereof,  showing  him  how 
it  signified  the  three  great  empires,  which  were  to  suc- 
ceed that  of  the  Assyrians,  namely,  the  Persian,  the 
Grecian,  and  the  Roman,  or  (according  to  some)  that 
of  the  successors  of  Alexander  the  Great.  Sifter 
these  kingdoms,  continued  Daniel,  shall  the  God  of 
heaven  set  up  a  kingdom,  which  shall  never  be  destroy- 
ed; and  this  kingdom  shall  not  be  left  to  other  people,  but 
shall  break  in  pieces  and  consume  all  these  kingdoms, 
and  shall  stand  for  ever.  By  which  Daniel  plainly 
foretold  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  king,  rav- 
ished with  admiration  and  astonishment,  after  having 
acknowledged  and  loud  I  v  declared,  that  the  God  of  the 
Israelites  was  truly  the  God  of  gods,  advanced  Daniel 
to  the  highest  offices  in  the  kingdom,  made  him  chief  of 
the  governors  over  all  the  wise  men,  ruler  of  the  whole 
province  of  Babylon,  and  one  of  the  principal  lords  of 
the  council,  that  always  attended  the  court.  His 
three  friends  were  also  promoted  to  honours  and  dig- 
nities. 

At  this  time  Jehoiakim  revolted  from  the  king  of 
Babylon,7  whose  generals,  that  were  still  in  Judah, 
marched  against  him,  and  committed  all  kinds  of  hos- 
tilities upon  his  country.  He  slept  with  hisfalhers,\9 
all  the  Scripture  says"  of  his  death.  Jeremiah  had 
prophesied,  that  he  "should  neither  be  regretted  nor 
lamented;  but  should  be  buried  with  the  burial  of  an 
ass,  drawn  and  cos*  forth  beyond  the  gates  of  Jerusa- 
lem ;  this  was  no  doubt  fulfilled,  though  it  is  not  known 
in  what  manner. 

Jechonias  succeeded  both  to  the  throne  and  iniquity 
of  his  father.8  Tsabuchodonosor's  lieutenants  con- 
tinuing the  blockade  of  Jerusalem,  in  three  months' 
time  he  himself  came  at  the  head  of  his  army,  and 
made  himself  master  of  the  city.  He  plundered  both 
the  temple  and  the  king's  palace  of  all  their  treasures, 
and  sent  them  away  to  Babylon,  together  with  all  the 
golden  vessels  remaining,  which  Solomon  had  made 
for  the  use  of  the  temple;  he  carried  away  likewise 
a  vast  number  of  captives,  amongst  whom  were  king 
Jechonias,  his  mother,  his  wives,  with  all  the  chief 
officers  and  great  men  of  his  kingdom.  In  the  room 
of  Jechonias  he  set  upon  the  throne  his  uncle  Matta- 
niah,  who  was  otherwise  called  Zedekiah. 

This  prince  had  as  little  religion  and  prosperity  as 
his  forefathers.9  Having  made  an  alliance  with 
Pharaoh,  king  of  Egypt,  he  broke  the  oath  of  fidelity 
he  had  taken  to  the  king  of  Babylon.  The  latter 
soon  chastised  him  for  it,  and  immediately  laid  siege 
to  Jerusalem.  The  king  of  Egypt's  arrival  at  the  head 
of  an  army  gave  the  besieged  a  gleam  of  hope;  but 
their  joy  was  very  short  lived;  the  Egyptians  were 
defeated,  and  the  conqueror  returned  against  Jerusa- 
lem, and  renewed  the  siege,  which  lasted  near  a 
twelvemonth.  At  last  the  city  was  taken  by  storm, 
and  a  terrible  slaughter  ensued.  Ze- 
dekiah's  two  sons  were,  by  Nabu-  A.  M.  3415. 
chodonosor's  order*,  killed  before  Ant.  J.  C.  589. 
their  father's  face,  with  all  the  no- 
bles and  principal  men  of  Judah.  Zedekiah  himself 
had  both  his  eyes  put  out,  was  loaded  with  fetters, 
and  carried  to  Babylon,  where  he  was  confined  in  pri 
son  as  long  as  he  lived.  The  city  and  temple  were 
pillaged  and  burnt,  and  all  their  fortifications  demo- 
lished. 

Upon  Nabuchodonosor's  return  to  Babylon,10  after 
his  successful  war  against  Judea,  he  ordered  a  golden 
statue  to  be  made,  sixty  cubits  high,11  assembled  all 
the  great  men  of  the  kingdom  to  celebrate  the  dedi 
cation  of  it,  and  commanded  all  his  subjects  to  wor- 
ship it,  threatening  to  cast  those  that  should  refute 

'2  Kings,  jcxiy.  1,2. 
«  Jtl.  Jehoiarhin.     2  Kingi.  xxi».  6—18. 
•  2  Kingg,  xxiv   17—20.  and  xxv.  1—10 
«•  Dan.  iii.  "  Ninety  feet 


KtsTORY  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS. 


143 


into  the  mklst  of  a  burning  fiery  furnace.  Upon  this 
occasion  it  was  that  the  three  young  Hebrews,  Ana- 
nias. Misael,  and  Azarias,  who  with  an  invincible 
courage  refused  to  comply  with  the  king's  impious 
ordinance,  were  preserved  after  a  miraculous  manner 
in  the  midst  of  the  flames.  The  king  himself  a  wit- 
ness of  this  astonishing  miracle,  published  an  edict, 
whereby  all  persons  whatsoever  were  forbidden,  upon 
pain  of  death,  to  speak  anv  thing  amiss  against  the 
God  of  Ananias,  Misael,  and  Azarias.  He  likewise 
promoted  these  three  young  men  to  the  highest  hon- 
ours and  employments. 

Nabuchodonosor,  in  the  twenty-first  year  of  his 
reign,  ana  the  fourth  after  the  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
lem, marched  again  into  Syria,  and  besieged  Tyre, 
at  the  time  when  Ithobal  was  king  thereof.  Tyre 
was  a  strong  and  opulent  city,  which  had  never  been 
•ubject  to  any  foreign  power,  and  was  then  in  great 
repute  for  its  commerce;  by  which  many  of  its  citi- 
lens  were  become  like  so  many  princes  in  wealth  and 
magnificence.1  It  had  been  built  bv  the  Sidonians 
240  i-ears  before  the  temple  of  Jerusalem.  For  Sidon 
being  taken  by  the  Philistines  of  Ascalon,  many  of 
its  inhabitants  made  their  escape  in  ships,  and  founded 
the  citv  of  Tyre.  And  for  this  reason  we  find  it  called 
in  Isaiah,  the  daughter  of  Sidon.*  But  the  daugnter 
»oon  surpassed  the  mother  in  grandeur,  riches,  and 
power.  Accordingly,  at  the  time  we  are  speaking  of. 
•he  was  in  a  condition  to  resist,  thirteen  years  together, 
a  monarch,  to  whose  yoke  all  the  rest  of  the  East  had 
submitted. 

It  was  not  till  after  so  long  an  interval.8  that  X~a- 
buchodonosor  made  himself  master  of  Tyre.  His 
troops  suffered  incredible  hardships  before  it;  so  that, 
according  to  the  prophet's  expression,  every  head  icas 
made  bald,*and  every  shoulder  was  peeled.  Before  the 
city  was  reduced  to  the  last  extremity,  its  inhabitants 
retired  with  the  greatest  part  of  the'ir  effects,  into  a 
neighbouring  isle,  a  mile  from  the  shore,  where  they 
built  a  new  citv;  the  name  and  glory  whereof  extin- 
guished the  remembrance  of  the  old  one,  which  from 
thenceforward  became  a  mere  village,  retaining  the 
•aiiie  of  ancient  Tyre. 

Xabuchodonosor  and  his  army  having  undergone 
the  utmo*t  fatigues  during  so  long  and  difficult  a  siege,5 
•nd  having  found  nothing  in  the  place  to  requite  them 
for  the  service  they  had  rendered  Almighty  God  (it  is 
the  expression  of  the  prophet)  in  executing  his  ven- 
geance upon  that  citv,  to  make  them  amends,  God 
was  pleased  to  promise  by  the  mouth  of  Ezekiel,  that 
he  would  give  them  the  spoils  of  Egypt.  And  indeed 
they  soon  after  conquered  that  country,  as  I  have 
more  fully  related  in  the  history  of  the  Egyptians. 

When  this  prince  had  happily  finished  all  his  wars, 
•nd  was  in  a  state  of  perfect  peace  and  tranquillity,  he 
employed  himself  in  putting;  the  last  hand  to  the  build- 
ing, or  rather  to  the  embellishing,  of  Babylon.  The 
reader  may  see  in  Josephus  an  account  of  the  magni- 
ficent structures  ascribed  to  this  monarch  by  several 
writers.3  I  have  mentioned  a  great  part  of  them  in 
the  description  already  given  of  that  stately  city. 

Whilst  nothing  seemed  wanting  to  complete  this 
prince's  happiness,  a  frightful  dream  disturbed  his  re- 
pose, and  filled  him  with  great  anxiety.*  He  saw  a  tree  in 
the  midst  of  the  earth,  whose  height  was  great:  the  tree 
grew  and  was  strong,  and  the  height  of  it  reached  unto 
heaven,  and  the  sight  thereof  to  the  end  of  th.e  earth. 
TTie  leaves  were  fair,  and  the  fruit  much-  anil  in  it 
was  meat  for  all:  the  beasts  of  the  field  had  shadow 
Wider  it,  and  the  fowls  of  the  heaven  dwelt  in  the 
boughs  thereof;  and  all  Jlesh  was  fed  of  it.  Then  a 
watcher  and  a  holy  one  came  down  from  heaven,  and 
cried,  Hew  down  the  tree,  and  cut'off"  his  branches, 
thake  off  his  leaves,  and  scatter  his  fruit:  let  the 
beasts  get  away  from  under  it,  and  the  fowls  from  its 
branches.  Nevertheless  leave  the  slump  of  its  roots 
in  the  earth,  even  with  a  band  of  iron  and  brnss,  in  the 
tender  grass  of  the  field;  and  let  it  be  wet  with  the  dev> 


i  Ezek.  xxvi,  xxrii.    I*,  xxiii.  8      Jast.  I.  xriii.  c.  3. 

•  Is.  xxiii.  12.  >  Jo*.  Ant.  I.  x.  c.  11.  et  con.  An.  1.  i. 
4  Ezek.  xxix.  18,  19.  •  E*ck.  xxix.  13—90. 

•  Autiq.  1.  x.  c.  11.  '  DM.  ir. 


of  heaven,  and  let  hit  portion  be  isith  the  beasts  in  /.I* 
grass  of  the  earth.  Let  his  heart  be  changed  from 
man's;  and  let  a  beast's  heart  be  given  unto  him:  and 
let  seven  times  pass  orer  him.  This  matter  is  by  the 
decree  of  the  watchers,  and  the  demand  by  the  word 
of  the  holy  ones:  to  the  intent  that  the  living  may  know 
that  the  Jlost  High  ruleth  in  the  kingdom  iifmen,mid 
giveth  it  to  whomsoever  he  will,  and  tettdh  tip  over  it 
the  basest  of  men. 

The  king,  justly  terrified  at  this  dreadful  dream, 
consulted  all  his  wise  men  and  magicians,  but  to  no 
purpose.  He  wasoblijfed  to  have  recourse  to  Daniel, 
who  expounded  the  dream,  and  applied  it  to  the  king 
himself,  plainly  declaring  to  nim.  That  he  should  be 
driven  from  the  company  of 'men for  seven  years,  should 
be  reduced  to  the  condition  and  fellowship  of  the  heastl 
of  the  field,  and  feed  upon  grass  like  an  ox;  that  hit 
kingdom  nevertheless  should  be  preserved  for  him,  and 
he  should  repossess  his  throne,  when  he  should  have 
learnt  to  know  and  acknowledge,  that  all  power  it 
from  above,  and  comethfrom  heaven.  After  this  h€ 
exhorted  him  to  break  ojfrhis  sins  by  right  eousnett, 
and  his  iniquities  by  shou-ing  mercy  to  the  poor. 

All  these  things  came  to  pass  upon  Xabuchodono- 
sor,  as  the  prophet  had  foretold.  At  the  end  of  twelve 
months,  as  he  was  walking  in  his  palace,  and  admir- 
ing the  beauty  and  magnificence  of  his  buildings,  he 
said.  Is  not  this  great  Babylon,  which  Ihave  btiiltfor 
the  house  of  the  kingdom,  by  the  might  of  my  powtr  and 
for  the  honour  nf my  majesty?  Would  a  secret  impulse 
of  complacency  and  vanity  ma  prince,  at  the  sight  of 
such  noble  structures  erected  by  himself,  appear  to  us 
so  very  criminal?  And  yet.  hardly  were  the  words 
out  of  his  mouth,  when  a  voice  came  down  from  hea- 
ven and  pronounced  his  sentence:  In  the  same  hour 
his  understanding  went  from  him ;  he  was  drivenfrom 
men,  and  did  (at  grass  like  oxen,  and  his  body  wat 
wet  with  the  dew  of  heaven,  till  /its  hairs  were  grown 
like  eagles'  ftathers,  and  his  nails  like  birds'  claws. 

After  the  expiration  of  the  appointed  time,  he  reco- 
vered his  senses,  and  the  use  of  his  understanding: 
He  lifted  up  his  eyes  imfo  heaven,  (says  the  Scripture) 
and  blessed  the  Jilost  High ;  he  praised  and  honoured 
him  that  liveth for  ever,  whose  dominion  is  an  everlatt~ 
ing  dominion,  and  his  kingdom  isfrom  generation  to 
generation:  confessing,  That  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth  areas  nothing  before  him, and  that  he doefh  ac- 
cording to  his  will,  in  the  army  of  heaven,  and  among 
(he  inhabitants  of  the  earth;  and  none  can  slay  hit 
hand,  or  say  unto  him,  What  doest  than?  Now  he  re- 
covered his  former  countenance  and  form.  His  cour- 
tiers went  out  to  seek  him;  he  was  restored  to  his 
throne,  and  became  greater  and  more  powerful  than 
ever.  Penetrated  with  the  heartiest  gratitude,  he 
caused,  by  a  solemn  edict,  to  be  published  through 
the  whole  extent  of  his  dominions,  what  astonishing 
and  miraculous  thingsGod  had  wrought  in  his  person. 

One  year  after  this  he  died,  having  reigned  forty- 
three  years,  reckoning  from  the  death  of  his  father. 
He  was  one  of  the  greatest  monarchs  that  ever  reigned 
in  the  east.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  son. 

EviL-MERonACH.8    As  soon  a's 
he   was  settled    in  the  throne,  he         A.    M.    3441. 
released  Jechonias,  king  of  Judah,     Ant.  J.  C.  463. 
out  of  prison,  where  he  had  been 
confined  near  seven-and-thirty  years. 

In  the  reign  of  this  Evil->1erodach,  which  lasted 
but  two  years,  the  learned  place  Daniel's  detection 
of  the  fraud  practised  by  the  priests  of  Bel ;  the  inno- 
cent artifice  by  which  he  contrived  to  destroy  th» 
dragon  which  was  worshipped  as  a  god;  ancl  the 
miraculous  deliverance  of  the  same  prophet  out  of 
the  den  of  lion*,  where  he  had  victuals  brought  him 
by  the  prophet  Habakkuk. 

Evil-Merodach  rendered  himself  so  odious  oy  his 
debauchery  and  other  extravagances*  that  his  own 
relations  conspired  against  him,  and  put  him  to 
death. 

XERHJUSSOR,  his  sister's  husband, 
and    one  of  the  chief  conspirators,        A.  M.  34  M. 
reigned  in  his  stead.  Ant  J.  C,  560, 


•  2  Kinjs,  XXT.  97-30. 


»  Be  rot.  Mrgaitbci 


144 


HISTORY  OF  THE  MEDES. 


I ni mediately  on  hi»  accession  to  the  crown,1  he 
made  great  preparations  for  war  against  the  Medes, 
which  made  Cyaxares  send  for  Cyrus  out  of  Persia, 
to  his  assistance.  This  story  will  be  more  particu- 
arly  related  by  and  bv,  where  we  shall  find  that  this 
prince  was  slam  in  battle  in  the  fourth  year  of  his 
reign. 

LABOROSOARCHOD,  his  son,  suc- 

A.  M.  3448.  ceeded  to  the  throne.  This  was  a 
Ant.  J.  C.  556.  very  wicked  prince.  Being  born 
with  the  most  vicious  inclinations, 
he  indulged  them  without  restraint  when  he  came 
to  the  crown;  as  if  he  had  been  invested  with  sove- 
reign power,  only  to  have  the  privilege  of  committing 
with  impunity  the  most  infamous  and  barbarous 
actions.  He  reigned  but  nine  months  ;  his  own 
subjects  conspiring  against  him,  put  him  to  death. 
His  successor  was 

LABYNITUS,     or    NABONIDUS. 

A.  M.  3449.  This  prince  had  likewise  other 
Ant.  J.  C.  555.  names,  and  in  Scripture  that  of 
Belshazzar.  It  is  on  good  grounds 
supposed  that  he  was  the  son  of  Evil-Merodach,  by 
his  wife  Nitocris,  and  consequently  grandson  to  ISTa- 
buchodono»or,  to  whom,  according  to  Jeremiah's  pro- 
phecy, the  nations  of  the  east  were  to  be  subject,  as 
also  to  his  son,  and  his  grandson  after  him:  AH  na- 
tions shall  serve  him,  and  his  son,  and  his  son's  son, 
vntil  the  very  time  of  Ins  land  shall  come.2 

JVitocris  is  that  queen  that  raised  so  many  noble 
edifices  in  Babylon.3  She  caused  her  own  monument 
to  be  placed  over  one  of  the  most  remarkable  gates  of 
the  city,  with  an  inscription,  dissuading  her  succes- 
sors from  touching  the  treasures  laid  up  in  it,  without 
the  most  urgent  and  indispensable  necessity.  The 
tomb  remained  closed  till  the  reign  of  Darius,  who 
upon  breaking  it  open,  instead  of  those  immense 
treasures  he  had  flattered  himself  with  discovering, 
found  nothing  but  the  following  inscription: — 

IF  THOU  HADST  NOT  AN  INSATIABLE  THIRST 
AFTER  MONEY,  AND  A  MOST  SORDID,  AVARICIOUS 
SOUI,,  THOU  WOULDST  NEVER  HAVE  BROKEN  OPEN 
THK  MONUMENTS  OF  THE  DEAD. 

In  the  first  year  of  Belshazzar's  reign,*  Daniel  had 
the  vision  of  the  four  beasts,  which  represented  the 
four  great  monarchies,  and  the  kingdom  of  the  Messi- 
ah, which  was  to  succeed  them.  In  the  third  year  of 
the  same  reign  he.  had  the  vision  of  the  ram  and  the 
he-goat,*  which  prefigured  the  destruction  of  the 
Persian  empire  by  Alexander  the  Great,  and  the 
persecution  which  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  king  of 
Syria,  would  bring  upon  the  Jews.  I  shall  hereafter 
make  some  reflections  upon  these  prophecies,  and 
give  a  larger  account  of  them. 

Belshazzar,6  whilst  his  enemies  were  besieging 
Babylon,  gave  a  great  entertainment  to  his  whole 
court,  upon  a  certain  festival,  which  was  annually 
celebrated  with  great  rejoicing.  The  joy  of  this 
feast  was  greatly  disturbed  by  a  vision,  and  still  more 
•o  by  the  explication  which  Daniel  gave  of  it  to  the 
king.  The  sentence  written  upon  the  wall  imported, 
lhat  his  kingdom  was  taken  from  him,  and  given  to 
the  Medes  and  Persians,  That  very  night  toe  city 
was  taken,  and  Belshazzar  killed. 

Thus  ended  the  Babylonian  em- 

A.  M.  3468.       pire,    after    having    subsisted  210 
Ant.  J.  C.536.       years  from   the  destruction  of  the 
great  Assyrian  empire. 

The  particular  circumstances  of  the  siege,  and  the 
taking  of  Babylon,  shall  be  related  In  the  history  of 
Cyrus. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  THE  MEDES. 

I  TOOK  notice,  in  speaking  of  the 

A.  M.  3257.       destruction  of  the  ancient  Assyrian 

Ant.  J.  C.  7-17.      empire.  th»t  Arbaces.gt-neral  of  the 

Median  army,  wa»  one  of  the  chief 


>  <>rop.  I.  i.  *  Jer.  xxvl.  7.  «  Herod.  I.  i.  cap. 

8M.  fcc.  Dan.  vii.        •  Dan.  TIM  •  Dan   ». 


authors  of  th*  conspiracy  against  Sardanapalus:  and 
several  writers  believe,  that  he  then  immediattly  be. 
came  sovereign  master  of  Media,7  and  many  other 
provinces,  and  assumed  the  title  ot  king.  Herodotus 
is  not  of  this  opinion.  I  shall  relate  what  that  cele 
brated  historian  says  upon  the  subject. 

The  Assyrians,8  who  had  for  many  ages  held  the 
empire  of  Asia,  began  to  decline  in  their  power  by 
the  revolt  of  several  nations.  The  Medes  first  threw 
oil'  their  yoke,  and  maintained  for  some  time  the 
liberty  they  had  acquired  by  their  valour;  but  that 
liberty  degenerating  into  licentiousness,  and  their 
government  not  being  well  established,  they  fel' 
into  a  kind  of  anarchy  worse  than  their  former  sub- 
jection. Injustice,  violence,  and  rapine,  prevailed 
every  where,  because  there  was  nobody  that  had 
either  power  enough  to  restrain  them,  or  sufficient 
authority  to  punish  the  offenders.  But  all  these  dis- 
orders at  length  induced  the  people  to  settle  a  form 
of  government,  which  rendered  the  state  more  flou- 
rishing than  ever  it  was  before. 

The  nation  of  the  Medes  was  then  divided  into  six 
tribes.  Almost  all  the  people  dwelt  in  villages,  when 
Dejoces,  the  son  of  Phraortes,  a  Mede  by  birth, 
erected  the  state  into  a  monarchy.  This  person, 
seeing  the  great  disorders  that  prevailed  throughout 
all  Media,  resolved  to  take  advantage  of  those  trou- 
bles, and  make  them  serve  to  exalt  him  to  the  royal 
dignity.  He  had  a  great  reputation  in  his  own  coun- 
try, and  passed  for  a  man  not  only  regular  in  hi* 
own  conduct,  but  possessed  of  all  the  prudence  and 
equity  necessary  to  govern  others. 

As  soon  as  he  had  formed  the  design  of  obtaining- 
the  throne,  he  laboured  to  make  the  good  qualitie* 
that  had  been  observed  in  him,  more  conspicuous 
than  ever:  he  succeeded  so  well,  that  the  inhabitants 
of  the  village  where  he  lived  made  him  their  judge. 
In  this  oilier  he  acquitted  himself  with  great  pru 
dence;  and  his  cares  had  all  the  success  that  had 
been  expected  from  them;  for  he  brought  the  people 
of  that  village  to  a  sober  and  regular  life.  'J  he 
inhabitants  of  other  villages,  whom  perpetual  disor- 
ders su tiered  not  to  live  in  quiet,  observing  the  good 
order  Dejoces  had  introduced  in  the  place  where  he 
presided  as  judge,  began  to  apply  to  him,  and  m;>ke 
him  arbitrator  of  their  differences.  The  fame  of  hu 
equity  daily  increasing,  all  such  as  had  any  affair  of 
consequence  brought  it  before  him,  expecting  to  find 
that  equity  in  Dejoces,  which  they  could  meet  with 
no  where  else. 

When  he  found  himself  thus  far  advanced  in  hi.« 
designs,  he  judged  it  a  proper  time  to  set  his  last 
engines  to  work  for  the  compassing  his  point.  He 
therefore  retired  from  business,  pretending  to  be  over- 
fatigued  with  the  multitude  of  people  that  resorted  to 
him  from  all  quarters:  and  would  not  exercise  the 
office  of  judge  any  longer,  notwithstanding  all  the 
importunity  of  such  as  wished  well  to  the  public 
tranquillitv.  Whenever  any  person  addressed  them- 
selves to  him,  he  told  them,  that  his  own  domestic 
affairs  would  not  allow  him  to  attend  to  those  of  other 
people. 

The  licentiousness  which  had  been  for  some  time 
restrained  by  rtie  judicious  management  of  Dejocta, 
began  to  prevail  more  than  ever,  so  soon  as  he  had 


*  Thi*  country,  considered  an  a  province  of  the  Ppmita 
empire,  was  of  various  extent  at  various  period*.     In  the 
day*  of  Herodotus,  its  extent  wns  much  smaller  than  after 
the  limes  of  the  Macedonian  conquests,  when   it  contained 
Aderbijan  or  the  lesser  Media.     It  was  hounded  as  one  of 
the  Sairapie*  of  Darius  Hystaspcii.  by  Assyria  on  the  west, 
from  which  it  was  divided  by   the  rnin'i-  of  7.a<;m»',  on  the 
N.  W.  by  the   range  of  Orontes,  which   separated   it   from 
Matiene   (more  properly  Mardiene)  (comprehending  the  mo- 
d»rn    province  of  Ardelan)  and   by    the  great  range  of  the 
Koflan  Koh  or  Koflnn  Daph,  stretching  north    to   the  Kizi 
O/.an  or  river  »f  Goznn  ;  on  the  N.  and  N.  E.   hy  Hyri-nnU 
and  I'arthia.  on  the  south  by    Persia,  and   on  the  S.  W.  bj 
f'usiana.     Tliese    limit*    constituted    the    proper   Media   in 
the  days  of  FJerodotus,  and  which  was  clearly  disttujriiirlied 
therefore  from  Mutinne  (Marrtietip;  HIP  trnct  watered  by  tKe 
rirer  of  Go/nn,   and   the  country  afterward*   di  nominated 
Atropatia.  and  now  called  Aderbijan, 

•  Herod.  I.  i   c.  83. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  MEDES. 


145 


Withdrawn  himself  from  the  administration  of  affairs; 
and  the  evil  increased  to  such  a  decree,  that  the 
Medes  were  obliged  to  assemble,  and  deliberate  upon 
the  moans  of  putting  a  stop  to  the  public  disorder. 

There  are  ditferent  sorts  of  ambition:  some,  violent 
and  impetuous,  carry  every  thing  as  it  were  by  storm, 
hesitating  at  no  kind  of  cruelty  or  murder;  another 
sort,  more  gentle,  like  that  we  are  speaking  of,  puts 
on  ?« i  appearance  of  moderation  and  justice,  working 
under  ground  (if  I  may  use  that  expression,)  and  yet 
arrives  at  her  point  as  surely  as  the  other. 

Dejoces,  who  saw  things  succeeding  according  to 
hi*  wish,  sent  his  emissaries  to  the  assembly,  after 
having  instructed  them  in  the  part  they  were"  to  act. 
When  expedients  for  stopping  the  course  of  the  public 
evil?  came  to  be  proposed,  these  emissaries,  speaking 
in  their  turn,  represented,  that,  unless  the  face  of  the 
rep-iblic  -,vas  entirely  changed,  their  country  would 
become  uninhabitable;  that  the  only  means  to  reme- 
dy the  present  disorders  was  to  elect  a  king,  who 
should  have  authority  to  restrain  violence,  and  make 
laws  for  the  government  of  the  nation.  Then  everv 
man  could  prosecute  his  own  affairs  in  peace  ancl 
safety;  whereas  the  hijustice  that  now  reigned  in  all 
parts,  would  quickly  force  the  people  to  abandon  the 
country.  This  opinion  was  generally  approved;  and 
the  whole  company  was  convinced,  that  no  expedient 
could  be  devised  more  effectual  for  curing  the  present 
evil,  than  that  of  converting  the  state  into  a  monarchy. 
The  only  thing  then  to  tie  done,  was  to  choose  a  king; 
and  about  this  their  deliberations  were  not  long. 
They  all  agreed,  there  was  not  a  man  in  Media  so 
capable  of  governing  as  Dejoces;  so  that  he  was 
immediately  with  common  consent  elected  kin?. 

If  we  reflect  in  the  least  on  the  first  establishment 
of  kingdoms,  in  any  age  or  country  whatsoever,  we 
shall  find,  that  the  maintenance  of  order,  and  the 
care  of  the  public  good,  was  the  original  design  of 
monarchy.  Indeed  there  would  be  no  possibility  of 
establishing  order  and  peace,  if  all  men  were  resofved 
to  be  independent,  and  would  not  submit  to  an 
authority  which  takes  from  them  a  part  of  their  liberty 
in  order  to  preserve  the  rest.  Mankind  must  be  per- 
petually at  war,  if  they  will  always  be  striving  for 
dominion  over  others,  or  refuse  to  submit  to  the 
strongest.  For  the  sake  of  their  own  peace  and 
safety,  they  must  have  a  master,  and  must  consent  to 
obev  him.  This  is  the  human  origin  of  srovernment.1 
Anil  the  scripture  teaches  us,  that  the  Divine  Provi- 
dence has  not  only  allowed  of  the  project,  and  the 
execution  of  it,  but  consecrated  it  likewise  by  an 
immediate  communication  of  his  own  power. 

There  is  nothing  certainly  nobler  or  greater  than  to 
•er  a  private  person,  eminent  for  his  merit  and  virtue, 
and  fitted  by  his  excellent  talents  for  the  highest  em- 
ployments, an-1  yet  through  inclination  and  modesty 
preferring  a  life  of  obscurity  and  retirement:  than  to 
•ee  such  a  man  sincerely  refuse  the  offer  made  to  him, 
•Jit  reigning  over  a  whole  nation,  and  at  last  consent  to 
undergo  the  toil  of  government,  from  no  other  motive 
than  thut  of  being  serviceable  to  his  fellow-citizens. 
His  fir-t  disposition,  by  which  he  declares  that  he  is 
•cquamted  with  the  duties,  and  consequently  with  the 
dangers,  annexed  to  a  sovereign  power,  shows  him  to 
have  a  soul  more  elevated  and  great  than  greatness 
't*elf;  or,  to  speak  more  justly,  a  soul  superior  to  all 
ambition:  nothing  can  show  h'im  so  perfectly  worthy 
of  that  important  charge,  a»  the  opinion  he  has  of  hfs 
Hot  being  so,  and  his  fears  of  being  unequal  to  it.  But 
when  he  generously  sacrifices  his  own  quiet  and  satis- 
faction to  the  welfare  and  tranquillity  of  thepublic,  it 
is  plain  he  understands  what  that  sovereign  power  has 
in  it  really  good,  or  truly  valuable;  which  i«,  that  it 
puts  a  man  in  a  condition  of  becoming  the  defender 
of  his  country,  of  procuring  it  many  advantages,  and 
of  redressing  various  evils;  of  causing  law  and  justice 
to  flourish,  of  brinjin?  virtue  and  probity  into  reputa- 
tion, and  of  establishing  peace  and  plenty:  and  h*" 
comforts  himself  for  the  cares  and  troubles  to  which 
be  is  exposed,  by  the  prospect  of  the  many  benefits 


VOL.  I.-19 


flom  xiii   1,8 


resulting  from  them  to  the  public.  Such  a  govtrntf 
was  Numa,  at  Rome;  and  such  have  been  some  oJicr 
emperors,  whom  the  people  found  it  necessary  ttf 
compel  to  accept  the  supreme  power. 

It  must  be  owned  (I  cannot  help  repeating  it,)  ir.at 
there  is  nothing  nobler  or  greater  than  such  a  dispo- 
sition. But  to  put  on  the  mask  of  modesty  and  vir- 
tue, in  order  to  satisfy  one's  ambition,  as  Dejoces 
did;  to  affect  to  appear  outwardly  what  a  man  is  not 
inwardly;  to  refuse  for  a  time,  and  then  accent  with 
a  seeming  repugnancy,  what  a  man  earnestly  desires, 
and  what  he  has  been  labouring  by  secret,  under- 
hand practices  to  obtain;  this  double-dealing  has  so 
much  meanness  in  it,  that  it  necessarily  lessen*  our 
opinion  of  the  person,  and  extremely  sullies  the  lustre 
of  those  good  qualities,  which,  in  other  respects,  he 
possesses. 

3  DEJOCES    reigned    fifty-three 
3'ears.    When  he  had  ascended  the  A.  M.  3294. 

throne,  he  endeavoured  to  convince  Ant.  J.  C.  710. 
the  people,  that  they  were  not  mis- 
taken in  the  choice  they  had  made  of  him.  for  reator- 
ingof  order.  At  first  he  resolved  to  have  his  dignity 
of  king  attended  with  all  the  marks  that  could  inspire 
an  awe  and  respect  for  his  person.  He  obliged  his 
subjects  to  build  him  a  magnificent  palace  in  the  place 
he  appointed.  This  palace  he  strongly  fortified,  and 
chose  out  from  among  his  people  such  persons  as  he 
judged  fittest  to  be  his  guards,  from  their  attachment 
to  hisjnterests,  and  his  reliance  on  their  fidelity. 

After  having  thus  provided  for  his  own  security,  he 
applied  himself  to  polish  and  civilize  his  subject* 
who,  having  been  accustomed  to  live  in  the  country 
and  in  villages,  almost  without  laws  and  witnout  po- 
lity, had  contracted  the  disposition  and  manners  of 
savages.  To  this  end  he  commanded  them  to  build  a 
city,  marking  out  himself  the  place  and  circumference 
of  "the  walls.  This  city  was  compassed  about  with 
seven  distinct  walls,  all  disposed  in  such  a  manner, 
that  the  outermost  did  not  hinder  the  parapet  of  the 
second  from  being  seen,  nor  the  second  that  of  the 
third,  and  so  of  all  the  rest.  The  situation  of  the 
place  was  extremely  favourable  for  such  a  design,  for 
it  was  a  regular  hill,  whose  ascent  was  equal  on 
every  side.  Within  the  last  and  smallest  enclosure 
stood  the  king's  palace,  with  all  his  treasures:  in 
the  sixth,  which  was  next  to  that,  there  were  several 
apartments  for  lodging  the  officers  of  his  house- 
hold ;  and  the  intermediate  spaces,  between  the 
other  walls,  were  appointed  for  the  habitation  of  the 
people:  The  first  and  largest  enclosure  was  about 
the  bigness  of  Athens.  The  name  of  this  city  was 
Ecbatana.8 


*  Herod.  1.  i.  c.  96—101. 

•  [That  this  celebrated  city  occupied  the  she  of  the  modern 
Hamadan  is  unquestionable,  from  the   great  number  of  au- 
thorities that  agree  in  proving  this,  although  many,  as  Mo- 
let,  Orlelius.  Golnitz.  Teixeira,  Delia  Valle,  Sir  John  Char- 
din,  the  learned  authors  of  the  Universal   History,  Gihbfif;«, 
and  Jones  have  referred  it  to  Tauris  in  Aderbijan.     Isidore 
of  Charax,  in  his  Parthian  Stations,  places  it   on  the  road 
from  Srleucia  to  Parthia.     Pliny  makes  it  equidistant  from 
Seleucia  and  Susa,   and   places  the  capital  of   Atropatia 
(Aderbijan)  midway  between  Echntana  and  Artaxatn.  and 
finally  says  that  it  lay  en  the    road  from  Nineveh   to  Ra^es 
or  Rey.  This  is  also  evident  from  Xcnophon's  account  of  the 
retreat  of  the  Ten  Thousand  Greeks,  who  being  arrived  at  a 
place  where  the  Tigris  was  unfordable.  and  an  almost  im- 
passable range  of  mountains  in  front,  examined  the  prisoners 
respecting  the  direction  of  their  course,  who  told  them,  that 
four   roads  branched  off   at  that    place;    one  led  south   to 
Babylon  and  Media,  another  to  the  east  led  to  Susa  and  Ec- 
batana. a  third  led  west  over  the  Tigris  toLydia  and  Ionia, 
and  a  fourth  went  north  to  the  Carduchian  territories.     At 
this  day  such  a  branching  off  of  four  different  roads  actually 
takes  place  at  the  very  spot  mentioned  by  Xenophon      It  it 
the  modern  village  of  Hatarrah,  fnrty  miles  S.  E.  of  the  city 
ofZaka  ;  where  one  road  leads  to  Mosul  and  Bagdad,  south; 
another  to  Hamadan    by  the  pass   of  Derbend.  or    I  ho  iron 
Gate  over   the  Kara  Dagh  or  Zazros ;  a  third  to  A  madia, 
the  ancient  Marde  ;  and  a  fourth  into  Mesopotamia,  or  Al 
Jezeerah,  by  a  ford  over  the   Tigris,  a  few  miles   north  of 
Eski  or  Old1  Mosul.     Thii  clearly  identifies  Hamadan  with 
Ecbatan. 

Htmtdan   contain!  a  neat  number  of  Mohammedan  to- 
If 


HISTORY  OF  THE  MEDES. 


The  prospeci  of  it  was  magnificent  and  beautiful; 
for,  besides  the  disposition  of  the  walls,  which  formed 
a  kind  of  amphitheatre,  the  different  colours  where- 
with the  several  parapets  were  painted  formed  a  de- 
lightful variety. 

After  the  city  was  finished,  and  Dejoces  had  obliged 
part  of  the  Medes  to  settle  in  it,  he  turned  all  his 
thoughts  to  composing  of  laws  for  the  good  of  the 
state.  But  being  persuaded,  that  the  majesty  of  kings 
is  most  respected  afar  off,  [major  ex  longinqiio  re- 
verentia.  Tacit.]  he  began  to  keep  himself  at  a  dis- 
tance from  iiis  people;  was  almost  inaccessible,  and, 
HS  it  were,  invisible  to  his  subjects,  not  suffering  them 
to  speak  or  communicate  their  affairs  to  him,  but 
only  by  petitions,  and  the  interpositions  of  his  officers. 
Anil  even  those  that  had  the  privilege  of  approaching 
him,  might  neither  laugh  nor  spit  in  his  presence. 

This  able  statesman  acted  in  this  manner,  in  order 
the  better  to  secure  to  himself  the  possession  of  the 
crown.  For  having  to  deal  with  men  yet  uncivilized, 
and  no  very  good  judges  of  true  merit,  he  was  afraid 
that  too  great  a  familiarity  with  him  might  induce 
contempt,  and  occasion  plots  and  conspiracies  against 
a  growing  power,  which  is  generally  looked  upon  with 
invidious  and  discontented  eyes.  But  by  keeping 
himself  thus  concealed  from  the  eyes  of  the  people, 
and  making  himself  known  only  by  the  wise  laws  he 
made,  and  the  strict  justice  he  took  care  to  adminis- 
ter to  every  one,  he  acquired  the  respect  and  esteem 
of  his  subjects. 

It  is  said,  that  from  the  innermost  part  of  his  palace 
he  saw  every  thing  that  was  done  in  his  dominions, 
by  means  of  his  emissaries,  who  brought  him  ac- 
counts, and  informed  him  of  all  transactions.  By  this 
means  no  crime  escaped  either  the  knowledge  of  the 
prince,  or  the  rigour  of  the  law;  and  the  punishment 
treading  upon  the  heels  of  the  offence,  kept  the 
wicked  in  awe,  and  stopped  the  course  of  violence 
and  injustice. 

Things  might  possibly  pass  in  this  manner  to  a 
certain  degree  during  his  administration:  but  there  is 
nothing  more  obvious  than  the  great  inconvenience* 
necessarily  resulting  from  the  custom  introduced  by 
Dejoces,  and  wherein  he  has  been  imitated  by  the 
rest  of  the  Eastern  potentates;  the  custom  I  mean, 
of  living  concealed  in  his  palace,  of  governing  by 
spies  dispersed  throughout  his  kingdom,  of  relying 
solely  upon  their  sincerity  for  the  truth  of  facts;  of 
not  suffering  truth,  the  complaints  of  the  oppress- 
ed, and  the  just  reasons  of  innocent  persons,  to  be 
conveyed  to  him  any  other  way  than  through  foreign 
channel?,  that  is,  by  men  liable  to  be  prejudiced  or 
corrupted  ;  men  that  stopped  up  all  avenues  to  remon- 
strances, or  the  reparation  of  injuries,  and  that  were 
capable  of  doing  tne  greatest  of  injustice  themselves, 
with  so  much  the  more  ease  and  assurance,  as  their 
iniquity  remained  undiscovered,  and  consequently 
unpunished.  But  besides  all  this,  methinks,  that  very 
affectation  in  princes  of  making  themselves  invisible, 
shows  them  to  be  conscious  of  their  slender  merit, 
which  shuns  the  light,  and  dares  not  stand  the  test  of 
a  near  examination. 

Dejoces  was  so  wholly  taken  up  in  humanizing 
and  softening  the  manners,  and  in  making  laws  for 
the  good  government  of  his  people,  that  he  never 
engaged  in  any  enterprise  against  his  neighbours, 
•though  his  reign  was  very  long,  for  he  did  not  die  till 
after  having  reigned  fifty-three  years. 


tiquit'es,  an  (sepulchral  stones,  towers,  mosques,  old  bazar*, 
rv'i  Cufick  in  script  ions.  Great  numbers  of  Arsacidan  and 
BLi!><aninn  coins  are  also  to  be  found  here,  of  which  latter, 
Pir  R.  K.  Porter  brought  away  nine  to  England.  A  cylin- 
drical si  mie  with  Persepolitan  figures  and  character*  on  it 
fell  into  M»rier's  hands;  Morier  supposes  that  if  excavations 
were  permitted  to  be  made  on  what  he  judges  was  the  site 
of  the  royal  treasury,  that  vnlunhle  discoveries  would  lie 
marie.  In  the  days  of  Benjamin  of  Tudela,  the  Spanish.  Jew, 
50.000  Jews  resided  at  this  place.  It  was  captured  and  to- 
tally ruined  bvTimur  Bek  in  the  14th  century,  and  though 
partly  rebuilt,  has  never  fully  re-covered  its  ancient  uplen- 
fl.uir  :  and  a  ereat  proportion  of  the  population  is  now  em- 
ployed in  tanning  and  dress'nj  leather,  the  best  that  is  ma- 
*«..,.  Jured  in  Persia.] 


PHRAORTES  reigned  twenty-two 
years.1  Alter  the  death  of  Dejoces,  A.  M.  3347 

his  son  Phraortes,  called  otherwise  Ant.  J.  C.  657, 
Aphraartes,*  succeeded.  The  af- 
finity between  these  two  names  would  alone  mak« 
one  believe  that  this  is  the  king  called  in  Scripture 
Arphaxad;  but  that  opinion  has  many  other  substan- 
tial reasons  to  support  it,  as  may  be  seen  in  Father 
Montfaucon's  learned  dissertation,  of  which  I  have 
here  made  great  use.  The  passage  in  Judith,3  That 
Jlrphaxad  built  a  very  strong  city,  and  called  it  Ec- 
ho/ana, has  deceived  most  authors,  and  made  there 
believe,  that  Arphaxad  must  be  Dejoces,  who  was 
certainly  the  founder  of  that  city.  But  the  Greek 
text  of  Judith,  which  the  Vulgate  translation  render* 
adijiravit,  savs  only.  That  Arjihazud  added  new 
buildings  to  £cbatana.*  And  what  ran  be  mere  na- 
tural, than  that,  the  father  not  having  entirely  per- 
fected so  considerable  a  work,  the  son  should  put  the 
last  hand  to  it,  and  make  such  additions  as  were 
wanting? 

Fhraortes,5  being  of  a  very  warlike  temper,  and  not 
contented  with  the  kingdom  of  Media  left  him  by  hit 
father,  attacked  the  Persians;  and  defeating  them  in 
a  decisive  battle,  brought  them  under  subjection  to 
his  empire.  Then  strengthened  by  'he  accession  of 
their  troops,  he  attacked  other  neighbouring  nations, 
one  after  another,  till  he  made  himself  master  of  almost 
all  the  upper  Asia,  which  comprehends  all  that  lies 
north  of  Mount  Taurus  from  Media  as  far  as  the 
river  Halys. 

Elate  with  this  good  success,  he  ventured  to  turn 
his  arms  against  the  Assyrians,  at  that  time  indeed 
weakened  through  the  revolt  of  several  nations,  but 
vet  very  powerful  in  themselves.  Nabuchodono^or, 
their  king,  otherwise  called  Saosduchinus,  raised  a 
great  army  in  his  own  country,  and  sent  ambassador! 
to  several  other  nations  in  the  East,  to  requite  their 
assistance.  They  all  refused  him  with  contempt,  and 
ignominiously  treated  his  ambassadors,  letting  him 
see,  that  the}'  no  longer  dreaded  that  empire,  which 
had  formerly  kept  the  greatest  part  of  them  in  a 
slavish  subjection. 

The  king,  highly  enraged  at  such  insolent  treat- 
ment, swore  by  His  throne  and  his  reign,  that  he  would 
be  revenged  of  all  those  nations,  and  put  them  every 
one  to  the  sword.  He  then  prepared  for  battle,  with 
what  forces  he  had,  in  the  plain  of  Ragau.6  A  great 
battle  ensued  there,  which  proved  fatal  to  Fhraortes. 
He  was  defeated,  his  cavalry  fled,  his  chariots  wer« 
overturned  and  put  into  disorder,  and  Aabuchodono- 
sor  gained  a  complete  victory.  Then  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  defeat  and  contusion  of  the  Mn  >-.  tie 
entered  their  country,  took  their  cities,  pushed  on  his 
conquest  even  to  Ecbatana,  forced  the  towers  and  the 


]  walls  by  storm,  and  gave  the  city  to  be  pillaged  by 
his  sold'iers,  who  plundered  it,  and  stripped  it  of  all 
its  ornaments. 

The  unfortunate  Phraortes.  who  had  escaped  into 
the  mountains  of  Ragau,  ft  11  at  last  into  the  hands  ol 
Nabuchodpnosor,  who  cruelly  caused  him  to  be  shot 
to  death  with  darts.  After  that,  he  returned  toIVine- 
veh  with  all  his  army,  which  was  still  very  numerous* 
and  for  four  months  together  did  nothing  but  feast 
and  divert  himself  with  those  that  had  accompanied 
him  in  this  expedition. 

In  Judith  we  read  that  the  king  of  Assyria  sent 
Holofernes  with  a  powerful  army,  to  revenge  himself 


i  Herod,  c.  102. 

»  He  i§  called  no  by  Euscbins,  Chron.  Grmc.  and  by  Goof 
Pynrel.  *   Judith,  i.  1,2. 

«  'Ea-i'KsJi^vTi    liri   'Exfiarivoit.          Judith,  Text.  Gr. 

•  Herod.  I.  i,  c.  102. 

•  Thin  is  a  large  and  extensive  plain   to  the  south  of  To- 
heran,  the  prem-nt  capital   of  Persia.     It   extends  east  and 
west  to  a  great  distance,  and  is  bounded  on  the  north  bj  Inn 
mountains  of  M:i7.nnderan,  and    south    by  on  inferior  ling* 

I  that  separate*  it  from  the  western  limit  of  the  Great  Salt 
'  Desert.  I  suppose  the  mountains  of  Rapau,  to  which  I  hi 
unfortunate  Phrnortes  fled,  to  have  been  those  of  Ma/and*- 
ran,  as  being  difficult  of  access,  in  a  great  degree  to  ei\*l 
rv.  and  therefore  .be  fittest  place  to  which  he  cou.d  S«v4 
fled. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  MEDES. 


147 


of  those  that  had  ref'ised  him  succours;  the  progress 
and  cruelty  of  that  commander,  the  general  ronster 
nation  of  all  the  people,  the  courageous  resolution  of 
the  Israelites  to  withstand  him,  in  assurance  that  their 
God  would  defend  them,  the  extremity  to  which  Be- 
thulia,  and  the  whole  nation  was  reduced,  the  mira- 
culous deliverance  of  that  city  by  the  courage  and 
conduct  of  the  brave  Judith,  and  the  complete  over- 
throw of  the  Assyrian  army,  are  all  related  in  the 
•aiue  book. 

CYAXARES    I.    reigned     forty 

A.  M.  3369.  years.'  This  prince  succeeded  to 
Ant.  J.  C.  635.  the  throne  immediately  alter  his 
father's  death.  He  was  a  very 
brave,  enterprising  prince,  and  knew  how  to  make 
his  advantage  of  the  late  overthrow  of  the  Assyrian 
army.  He  first  settled  himself  well  in  his  kingdom 
of  Media,  and  then  conquered  all  Upper  Asia.  But 
what  he  had  most  at  heart,  was  to  go  and  attack 
Nineveh,  to  revenge  the  death  of  his  father  by  the 
destruction  of  that  great  citv. 

The  Assyrians  rame  out  to  meet  him,  having  only 
the  remains  of  that  great  army,  which  was  destroyed 
before  Bethnlia.  A  battle  ensued,  wherein  the  Assy- 
rians were  defeated,  and  driven  back  to  Nineveh. 
Cvaxares,  pursuing  his  victory,  laid  siege  to  the  city, 
which  was  upon  the  point  ol  falling  inevitably  into 
his  hands,  but  the  time  had  not  yet  come,  when  God 
designed  to  punish  that  city  for  her  crimes,  and  for  the 
calamities  she  had  brought  upon  his  people,  as  well 
as  other  nation*.  It  was  delivered  from  its  present 
danger  in  the  following  manner. 

A  formidable  army  of  Scythian*,  from  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Paulus  Mteotis,  had  driven  the  Cim- 
merians out  of  F.urope.  and  was  still  marching  under 
the  conduct  of  king  Madyes  in  pursuit  of  them.  The 
Cimmerians  had  found  means  to  escape  from  the 
Scythians,  who  had  advanced  as  far  as  Media.  Cy- 
axare*,  hearing  of  this  irruption,  raised  the  siege 
from  before  Nineveh,  and  marched  with  all  his  forces 
against  that  miifhty  army,  which  like  an  impetuous 
torrent,  was  going  to  overrun  all  Asia.  The  two 
armies  eniraired,  and  the  Medes  were  vanquished. 
The  Barbarians,  finding  no  other  obstacle  in  their 
way.  overspread  not  only  Media,  but  almost  all  Asia. 
After  that,  they  marched  towards  Karypt,  from  whence 
Psammiticus  diverted  their  course  by  presents.  They 
then  returned  into  Palestine,  where  some  of  them 
plundered  the  temple  of  Venus  at  Ascalon,  the  most 
ancient  of  the  temples  dedicated  to  that  goddess. 
Some  of  the  Scythians  settled  at  Bethshan,  a  city  in 
the  tribe  of  Manasseh,  on  this  side  Jordan,  which  from 
them  was  afterwards  called  Scythopolis. 

The  Scythians  for  the  space  of  twenty-eight  years 
were  masters  of  the  Upper  Asia,  nam'ely,  the  two 
Armenia*,  Cappadocia,  Pontus,  Cholc.his  and  Iberia; 
during  which  time  they  spread  desolation  wherever 
they  came.  The  Metfes  had  no  way  of  getting  rid 
of  them,  but  by  a  dangerous  stratagem.  Under  pre- 
tence of  cultivating  and  strengthening  the  alliance 
they  had  made  together,  they  invited  the  greatest  part 
of  them  to  a  general  feast,  which  was  marie  in  every 
family.  F.ach  master  of  the  feast  made  his  guests 
drunk,  an'l  in  that  condition  were  the  Scythians  mas- 
•acred.  The  Medes  then  repossessed  themselves  of 
the  provinces  they  had  lost,  and  once  more  extended 
their  emoire  to  the  banks  of  the  Halys,  which  was 
their  ancient  boundary  westward. 

The  remaining  Scythians,1  who  were  not  at  this 
feast,  having  heard  of  the  massacre  of  their  country- 
men, fled  into  Lyclia  to  king  Halvattes,  who  received 
them  with  great  humanity.  This  occasioned  a  war 
between  the  two  princes.  Cvaxares  immediately  led 
his  troops  to  the  frontiers  of  Lvdia.  Many  battles 
were  fought  during  the  space  of*  five  year*,  with  al- 
most equ  <l  advantage  on  both  sides.  But  the  battle 
fought  in  the  sixth  year  was  very  remarkable  on  ac- 
tount  of  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  which  happened  during 
fce  engagement,  when  on  a  sudden  the  day  was 
turned  into  a  dark  night.  Thales,  the  Milesian,  had 


a  Hettd.  .  i.  e.  103— 106 


*  Herod.  L  i.  e.  74. 


foretold  this  eclipse.  The  Medes  and  I.ydians,  who 
were  then  in  the  heat  of  the  battle,  equally  terrified 
with  this  unforeseen  event,  which  they  looked  upon 
as  a  sign  of  the  anger  of  the  gods,  immediately  re- 
treated  on  both  sides,  and  made  peare.  Syenesit 
king  of  Cilicia,  and  Nabuchodnosor,*  king  of  Baby- 
lon, were  the  mediators.  To  render  it  more  firm  and 
inviolable,  the  two  princes  were  willing  to  strengthen 
it  by  the  tie  of  marriage,  and  agreed,  that  Haljatte* 
should  give  his  daughter  Aryenis  to  Astyages,  eldest 
son  of  Cyaxares. 

The  manner  these  people  had  of  contracting  an  al- 
liance with  one  another,  is  very  remarkable.  Besides 
other  ceremonies,  which  they  had  in  common  with 
the  Greeks,  they  had  this  in  particular;  the  two  con.- 
tracting  parties  made  incisions  in  their  own  arms 
and  licked  one  another's  blood. 

Cyaxares's  first  care,*  as  soon  as 
he  found   himself  again   in  peace,  A.  M.  3378. 

was  to  resume  the  siege  of  .Nine-  Ant.  J.  C.  626. 
veh,  which  the  irruption  of  the 
Scjthians  had  obliged  him  to  raise.  Nabopolassar. 
king  of  Babylon,  with  whom  he  had  lately  contracted 
a  particular  alliance,  joined  with  him  "in  a  league 
against  the  Assyrians.  Having  therefore  united 
their  forces  they  besieged  .Nineveh,  took  it,  killed 
Saracus  the  king,  and  utterly  destroyed  that  mighty 
city.5 

God  had  foretold  by  his  prophets  above  100  yeart 
before,  that  he  would  bring  vengeance  upon  that  im 
pious  city,  for  the  blood  of  his  servants,  w  herewith 
the  kings  thereof  had  gorged  themselves,  like  raven- 
ous lions;  that  he  himself  would  inarch  at  the  head 
of  the  troops  that  should  come  to  besiege  it;  that  he 
would  cause  consternation  and  terror  to  go  before 
them ;  that  he  would  deliver  the  old  men,  the  mothers, 
and  their  children,  into  the  merciless  hands  of  the  sol- 
diers; that  all  the  treasures  of  the  city  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  rapacious  and  insatiable  plunderers;  and 
that  the  city  itself  should  be  so  totally  and  utterlt  de- 
stroyed, that  not  so  much  as  a  vestige  of  it  should  be 
left;  and  that  the  people  should  ask  nereafter,  Where 
did  the  proud  city  of  Nineveh  stand? 

But  let  us  hear  the  language  of  the  prophets  them 
selves: — Woe  unto  the  bloody  city  (cries  Nahum,'. 
it  is  full  of  lies  and  robbery;  he  that  dasheth  it  in 
pieces  is  come  up  before,  thy  face.  The  Lord  cometh 
to  avenge  the  cruelties  done  to  Jacob  and  Israel.7  1 


»  In  Herodotus  he  ig  called  Labynetng. 

«  Herod.  I.  i.  c.  106.      . 

•  "  On  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Tigris,  but  a  mile  higher 
up  the  stream  than  the  city  of  Mosul,  situated  on  its  west- 
ern bank,"  (say*  Kinnier.  who  visited  this  place  in  1614) 
"  are  two  extensive  mounds  and  large  ramparts  supposed  t« 
be  the  ruins  of  ancient  Nineveh.  The  first  is  three-fourths 
of  a  mile  in  circumference,  150  feet  in  height,  and  has  the 
same  appearance  as  the  mounds  al  Shush,  the  ancient  Susa. 
The  circumference  of  the  other  is  not  so  great,  but  iis  ele- 
vation is  higher,  and  on  it?  summit  stands  a  tomb  reputed 
by  the  natives  to  be  that  of  the  prophet  Jonah,  near  which 
u  village  called  Nunia  has  been  erected.  The  Jews  eo  in 
pilgrimage  to  this  tomb,  which  if  a  small  and  magnificent 
building  crowned  with  a  copola."  In  the  days  of  Tacitus, 
as  we  are  informed  by  that  annalist,  there  was  a  city  called 
Nineveh,  near  the  site  of  the  ancient  city.  Perhaps  tliia 
modern  city  answer*  to  the  city  of  Mosul,  which  was  a 
large  and  populous  citv  in  the  times  of  the  Khalifate  and 
the  scat  of  an  independent  principality.  It  contains  at  pre- 
sent from  30,000  to  34.000  houses,  and  15  Khan*  or  cara- 
vnnserit's  for  lodging  strangers.  The  number  of  Christian 
families  resident  here  is  1200,  one  fourth  of  whom  are  Ne»- 
toriani,  the  rest  are  Jacobites.  Few  of  th.we  horn  in  the 
city  speak  the  Syrian  language,  but  it  is  still  spoken  in  the 
country  villages.  The  Turks  and  Christians  live  together 
in  remarkable  harmony.  The  Jews  amount  to  150  families 
and  are  remarkably  ill  treated  and  despised.  It  is  situated 
in  a  very  bxrren  sandy  plain,  and  i's  external  appearance 
is  much  in  iis  favour,  being  encompassed  with  stately  wallg 
of  solid  stone,  over  winch  the  minarets  or  steeples  of  the 
mosques  and  other  lofty  buildings  are  seen  with  increased 
effect.  The  Tigris  is  very  hroad  here,  being  crossed  by  a 
bridge  of  30  boats,  to  an  island  from  which  to  the  opposite 
shore  is  a  stone  eausewav.  which  may  be  crossed  on  fool 
when  the  river  is  low.  When  the  inundation!  of  the  rivM 
take  place  the  bridge  of  boat*  is  taken  away. 

<  Nahum.  iii.  1.  '  u.  1,  i 


148 


HISTORY  OF  THE  LYDIANS. 


near  already  the  noise  of  the  whip,  and  the  noise  of 
the  rattling  of  the  wheels,  and  of  the  prancing  horses, 
and  of  the  hounding  chariots.  The  horseman  lifted 
up  both  the  bright  sword,  and  the  glittering  spear.1 
The  shield  of  his  mighty  men  is  made  red ;  the  valiant 
men  are  in  scarlet.  They  shall  seem  like  torches, 
they  shall  run  like  the  lightning.2  God  is  jealous; 
the  Lord  revengeth,  and  is  furious.  The  mountains 
quake  at  him,  and  the  hills  melt,  and  the  earth  is 
burnt  at  his  presence:  who  can  stand  before  his  indig- 
nation ?  and  who  can  abide  in  the  fierceness  of  his 
anger'?3  Behold.  I  am  against  thee,  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts:  I  will  strip  thee  of  all  thy  ornaments.*  Take 
jre  the  spoil  of  silver,  take  the  spoil  of  gold;  for  there 
is  no  end  of  the  store  and  glory  out  of  all  the  plea- 
sant furniture.  She  is  empty  and  void,  and  waste. 
Nineveh  is  destroyed;  she  is  overthrown;  she  is  de- 
solate.5 The  gates  of  the  rivers  shall  be  opened, 
and  the  palace  shall  be  dissolved.8  And  Huzzab  shall 
be  led  away  captive;  she  shall  be  brought  up,  and 
her  maids  shall  lead  her  as  with  the  voice  of  doves 
tabering  upon  their  breasts.7  I  see  a  multitude  of 
slain,  and  a  great  number  of  carcases;  and  there  is 
DO  end  of  their  corpses:  they  stumbled  upon  their 
corpses.8  Where  is  the  dwelling  ot  the  lions,  and 
the  feeding-places  of  the  young  lions,  where  the  lion, 
even  the  old  lion,  walkecf,  and  the  lion's  whelp,  and 
none  made  them  afraid:9  where  the  lion  did  tear  in 
pieces  enough  for  his  whelps,  and  strangled  for  his 
lionesses,  and  filled  his  holes  with  prey,  and  his  dens 
with  rapine.10  The  Lord  shall  destroy  Assur.  He 
shall  depopulate  that  city,  which  was  so  beautiful, 
and  turn  it  into  a  land  where  no  man  cometh,  and  into 
a  desert.  It  shall  be  a  dwelling-place  for  wild  beasts, 
and  the  birds  of  night  shall  lurk  therein.  Behold, 
shall  it  be  said,  see  that  proud  city,  which  was  so 
stately,  and  so  exalted ;  which  said  in  her  heart,  I  am 
the  only  city,  and  besides  me  there  is  no  other.  All 
they  that  pass  by  her,  shall  scoff'  at  her,  and  shall  in- 
sult her  with  hissings  and  contemptuous  gestures." 

The  two  armies  enriched  themselves  with  the  spoils 
of  Nineveh:  and  Cyaxares  prosecuting  his  victories, 
made  himself  master  of  all  the  cities  of  the  kingdom 
of  Assyria,  except  Babylon  and  Chaldea,  which  be- 
longed to  Nabopolassar. 

After  this  expedition  Cyaxares  died,  and  left  his 
d°-ninions  to  his  son  Astyages. 

ASTYAGES    reigned    thirty-five 

A.  M.  3409.     years.      This   prince    is  called    in 

Ant.  J.  C.  595.     Scripture  Ahasuerus.     Though  his 

reign  was  very  long,  no   less  than 

thirty-five  years,  yet  have  we  no  particulars  recorded 

of  it  in  history.     He  had  two  children,  whose  names 

are   famous,  namely,  Cyaxares,  by  his  wife  Aryrnis, 

and  Mandane,  by  a  former  marriage.     In  his  father's 

life-time  he  married  Mandane   to  Cambyses,  the  son 

of  Achemenes,   king  of  Persia,  from    this   marriage 

sprung  Cyrus,  who  was  born   but  one  year  after  the 

birth  of  his  uncle  Cyaxares.     The  latter  succeeded 

his  father  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Medes. 

CYAXARES  1 1.  This  is  the  prince  whom  the  Scrip- 
ture calls  Darius  the  Mede. 

Cyrus,  having  taken  Babylon,  in  conjunction  with 
his  unrle  Cyaxares,  left  it  under  his  government. 
After  the  death  of  his  unrle,  and  his  father  Cambyses, 
he  united  the  kingdom  of  the  Medes  and  the  Persians 
Into  one:  in  the  sequel,  therefore,  they  will  be  con- 
sidered only  as  one  empire.  I  shall  begin  the  history 
of  that  empire  with  the  reign  of  Cvrus;  which  will 
include  also  what  is  known  of  the  reigns  of  his  two 
predecessors,  Cyaxares  and  Astyages.  But  I  shall 


i  Nahum.  iii.  2,  3. 


»  ii.  3,  4. 


•  i.  2.  5.  6. 

•  The  uuthor  in  thi§  place  renders  it,  Her  temple   is  de- 
it  royri]  to  tin1  foundations.     But  I  have  chosen  to  follow  our 
English  llihlc.  though  in  the  Latin  it  is  templiim 

i  Nahum.  ii.  6.  •  iii.  3. 

•  This  is  a  noMn  imaje  of  the  cruel  avarice  of  the  Assy- 
rian kin«i  who  pillaged  and  plundered  all  their  neighbour- 
ing nations,  especially  Judea,  and  carried  away  the  spoils  of 
'.hem  lo  Nineveh. 

10  Nahum.  it.  11.  12. 
"  /.-[iliaii.  ii.  13—15 


previously  give  seme  account  of  the  kingdom  of  Lr 
dia,  because  Croesus,  its  king,  has  a  considerable 
share  in  the  events  of  which  I  am  to  speak. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  LYDIANS. 

THE  kings  who  first  reigned  over  the  Lydinns" 
are  by  Herodotus  called  Atyadae,  that  is,  descendants 
from  Atys.  These,  he  tells  us,  derived  their  origin 
from  Lydus,  the  son  of  Atys;  and  Lydus  gave  the 
name  of  Lydians  to  that  people,  who  before  this  time 
were  called  Moeonians. 

These  Atyadce  were  succeeded  by  the  Heraclidse, 
or  descendants  of  Hercules,  who  possessed  this  king, 
dom  for  the  space  of  505  years. 

ARGO,  great-grandson  of  Alcae- 
us,  son  of  Hercules,  was  the  first  of  A.  M.  2781. 

the  Heraclidae  who  reigned  in  Ly      Ant.  J.  C.  1223. 
dia.     The  last  was 

CANDAULKS.     This  prince  was  married  to  a  lady 


one  of  his  chief  officers,  should  see  and  judge  of  them 
by  his  own  eyes;  as  if  the  husband's  own  knowledge 
of  them  was  not  sufficient  for  his  happiness,13  or  the 
beauty  of  his  wife  would  have  been  impaired  by  his 
silence.  The  king  to  this  end  placed  Gyges  secretly 
in  a  convenient  place;  but  notwithstanding  that  pre- 
caution, the  queen  perceived  him  when  he  retired, 
yet  took  no  manner  of  notice  of  it.  Judging,  as  the 
historian  represents  it,  that  the  most  valuable  treasure 
of  a  woman  is  her  modesty,  she  studied  a  signal  re- 
venge for  the  injury  she  had  received;  -and,  to  punish 
the  fault  of  her  husband,  committed  a  still  greater 
crime.  Possibly,  a  secret  passion  for  Gygrs  had  as 
great  a  share  in  that  action,  as  her  resentment  for  the 
dishonour  done  her.  Be  that  as  it  will,  she  sent  foi 
Gyges,  and  obliged  him  to  expiate  his  crime,  either 
by  his  own  death  or  the  king's,  at  his  own  option. 
After  some  remonstrances  to  no  purpose,  he  resolved 
upon  the  latter,  and  by  the  murder  of  Candaules  be- 
came master  of  his  queen  and  his 
throne.  By  this  means  the  kingdom  A.  M.  3286. 

passed  from  the  family  of  the  Hera-      Ant.  J.  C.  718. 
clidae  into  that  of  the  Mermnadje. 

Archilochus,  the  poet,  lived  at  this  time,  and  a» 
Herodotus  informs  us,  spoke  of  this  adventure  of 
Gyges  in  his  poems. 

I  cannot  forbear  mentioning  in  this  place  what  is 
related  by  Herodotus,  that  amongst  the  Lydians,  and 
almost  all  other  Barbarians,  it  was  reckoned  shameful 
and  infamous  even  fora  man  to  appear  naked.  These 
footsteps  of  modesty,  which  are  met  with  amongst 
pagans,  ought  to  be  reckoned  valuable.!4  We  are 
assured,  that  among  the  Romans,  a  son,  who  was 
coming  to  the  age  of  maturity,  never  went  into  the 
baths  with  his  father,  nor  even  a  son-in-law  with  his 
father-in-law:  and  this  modesty  and  decency  were 
looked  upon  by  them  as  enjoined  by  the  law  of  na- 
ture, the  violation  whereof  was  criminal.  It  is  as- 
tonishing, that  amongst  us  our  magistrates  take  no 
care  to  prevent  this  disorder,  which  in  the  midst  of 
Paris,  at  the  season  of  bathing,  is  openly  committed 
with  impunity;  a  disorder  so  visibly  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  common  decency,  so  dangerous  to  younjj 
persons  of  both  sexes,  and  so  severely  condemned 
by  paganism  itself.  . 

Plato15  relates  the  story  of  Gyges  in  a  different 
manner  from  Herodotus.  He  tells  us  that  Gyge* 


i»  Herod.  1.  i.  c.  7—13. 

»»  Non  contrntu*  volnptatnm  sunrnm  tacitn  conscientift — 
prorsus  quasi  silentium  damnum  pulchritudinis  cssut.  Jut- 
tin.  I.  i.  c.  7. 

»«  Nostro  quidem  morecutn  parentibu*  puberes  filii,  cum 
sooeris  generi,  non  lavantur.  Rctinenda  est  i<?itur  tiujui 
»pnoris  verecundia,  prmsertim  natura  ipsft  magisuA  el  duce, 
Cie.  1.  i.  de  Offir..  n.  129. 

Nudare  se  nefas  essecredehatur.     fat  Max.  .   ii.  cap.  1 

!•  Plato  de  Rep.  I.  il.  i>.  350 


HISTORY  OF  THE  LYD1ANS. 


149 


trore  a  ring,  the  sto  :e  of  which,  when  turned  towards 
Lini.  rendered  him  invisible;  so  that  he  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  seeing  others,  without  being;  seen  himself; 
»nd  that  by  means  of  this  r  »ig,  with  the  concurrence 
of  the  queen,  he  deprivec  Candaules  of  his  life  and 
throne.  This  probably  signifies,  that  in  order  to 
Compass  his  criminal  design,  he  used  all  the  tricks 
and  Htratagems,  which  the  world  calls  subtle  and  re- 
fined policy,  which  penetrates  into  the  most  secret 
purposes  of  others,  without  making  the  least  disco- 
ver}- of  its  own.  This  story,  thus  explained,  carries 
in  it  a  greater  appearance  ot  truth,  than  what  we  read 
in  Herodotus. 

Cicero,  alter  having  related  this  fable  of  Gvges's  fa- 
mous ring,  adds,  that  if  a  wise  man  had  sucfr  a  ring,1 
he  would  not  use  it  to  any  wicked  purpose;  because 
virtue  considers  what  is  honourable  and  just,  and  has 
no  occasion  for  darkness. 

GVGES     reigned      thirty-eight 
A.  M.  3286.    years.2    The  murder  of  Candaules 

Ant.  J.  C.  718.  raised  a  sedition  among  the  Ly- 
dians.  The  two  parties,  instead  of 
coming  to  blows,  agrted  to  refer  the  matter  to  the 
decision  of  the  Delphic  oracle,  which  declared  in  fa- 
vour of  Gyges.  The  king  made  large  presents  to  the 
temple  ot  Delphi,  which  undoubtedly  preceded,  and 
had  no  little  influence  upon  the  oracle's  answer. 
Among  other  things  of  value,  Herodotus  mentions  six 
golden  cups,  weighing  thirty  talents,  amounting  to 
near  a  million  of  French  money,  which  is  about 
48,UOO/.  sterling. 

As  soon  as  he  was  in  peaceable  possession  of  the 
throne,  he  made  war  against  Miletus,  Smyrna,  and 
Colophon,  three  powertul  cities  belonging  to  the 
neighbouring  states. 

After  he  had  reigned  thirty-eight  years,  he  died, 
and  was  succeeded  bv  his  son. 

AUNTS,  who  reigned   forty-nine 
A.  M.  3324.     years.3     It  was  in  the  reign  of  this 

Ant.  J.  C.  680.     prince,  that  the  Cimmerians,  driven 
out  of  their  country  by  the  Scythse 
Nomades,  went  into  Asia,  and  took  the  city  of  Sar- 
dis,  with  the  exception  of  the  citadel. 

bADi'ATTES      reigned      twelve 
A.  M.  3373.    years.*    This  prince  declared  war 

Ant.  J.  C.  631.  against  the  Milesians,  and  laid 
siege  to  their  city.  Jn  those  days 
the  sieges,  which  were  generally  nothing  more  than 
blockades,  were  carrieu  on  very  slowly,  and  lasted 
many  years.  This  king  died  before  he  had  finished 
that  of  Miletus,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son. 

HAI.VATTES  reigned  fifty-seven 
A.  M  3335.    years.5  This  is  the  prince  who  made 

Ant.  J.  C.  619.  war  against  Cyaxares,  king  of  Me- 
dia. He  likewise  drove  the  Cim- 
merians out  of  Asia.  He  attacked  and  took  the  cities 
of  Smyrna  and  Clazomtn*.  He  vigorously  prose- 
cuted the  war  against  the  Milesians,  begun  by  his 
father;  and  continued  the  siege  of  their  city,  which 
had  lasted  six  years  under  his  father,  and  continued 
as  many  under  him.  It  ended  at  length  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner:  Halvattes,  upon  an  answer  he  re- 
ceivi-'l  from  the  Delphic  oracle,  had  sent  an  ambassa- 
dor into  the  city,  to  propose  a  truce  for  some  months. 
Tiir.isvbulns,  tyrant  of  Miletus,  having  notice  of  his 
ccmin:r,  ordered  all  the  corn,  and  other  provisions, 
assembled  bv  him  and  his  subjects  for  their  support, 
to  be  brought  into  the  public  market;  and  command- 
ed the  citizens,  at  the  sight  of  a  signal  that  should  be. 
given,  to  he  all  in  a  general  humour  of  feasting  and 
jollity  The  thing  was  executed  according  to  his 
orders.  The  Lydian  ambassador  at  his  arrival  was 
in  the  utmost  surprise  to  see  such  plenty  in  the  mar- 
ket, and  such  cheerfulness  in  the  city.  His  master, 
to  whom  he  gave  an  account  of  what  he  had  seen, 
concluding  that  his  project  of  reducing  the  place  by 
famine  would  never  succeed,  preferred  peace  to  so 


>  Hunc  iiisum  annu  urn  si  hsbeat  rapient.  nihilo  plni 
tibi  licere  putet  pecrare.  quam  ei  non  haheret.  Honrata 
•enim  bonis  viris,  non  occulta  oueruntur.  Lib.  iii  de  Offie, 
B.  38.  »  Herod.  1.  i.  c.  13,  H 

•  Ibid.  1.  i.  c.  15.  «  Ibid.  1.  i.  c.  16— 22. 


apparently  fruitless   a  war,  and  immediately  raised 
the  siege. 

CRCLSUS.    His  very  name,  which 
is  become  a  proverb,  conveys  an  A.  M.  3442. 

idea  of  immense  riches.  The  Ant.  J  C.  562. 
wealth  of  this  piince,  to  judge  of  it 
only  by  the  presents  he  made  to  the  temple  of  Del- 
phi, must  have  been  excessively  great.  Most  of  these 
presents  were  still  to  be  seen  in  the  time  of  Herodo- 
tus, and  were  worth  several  millions.  We  may  partly 
account  for  the  treasures  of  this  prince,5  from  certain 
mines  that  he  had,  situate,  according  to  Strab*, 
between  Pergamus  and  Atarna;  as  also  from  the 
little  river  Pactolus,  the  sand  of  which  was  gold. 
But  in  Strabo's  time  this  river  had  no  longer  the  same 
advantage. 

What  is  very  extraordinary,7  this  affluence  did  not 
enervate  or  soften  the  courage  of  Croesus.  He 
thought  it  unworthy  of  a  prince  to  spend  his  time  in 
idleness  and  pleasure.  For  his  part,  he  was  perpetu- 
ally in  arms,  made  several  conquests,  and  enlarged 
his  dominions  by  the  addition  of  all  the  contiguous 
provinces,  at  Phrygia,  Mysia,  Paphlagonia,  Bithvnia, 
Pamphylia,  and  a'll  the  country  of  the  Carians,  "loni- 
ans,  Dorians,  and  ./Eolians.  Herodotus  observes,  that 
he  was  the  first  conqueror  of  the  Greeks,  who  till  then 
had  never  been  subject  to  a  foreign  power.  Doubtless 
he  must  mean  the  Greeks  settled  in  Asia  Minor. 

But  what  is  still  more  extraordinary  in  this  prince, 
though  he  was  so  immensely  rich,  and  so  great  a 
warrior,  yet  his  chief  delight  was  in  literature  and  the 
sciences.  His  court  was  the  ordinary  residence  of 
those  famous  learned  men,  so  revered  bv  antiquity 
and  distinguished  by  the  name  of  the  Seven  Wise 
Men  of  Greece. 

Solon,8  one  of  the  most  celebrated  amongst  them 
after  having  established  new  laws  at  Athens,  thought 
he  might  absent  himself  for  some  years,  and  improve 
that  time  by  travelling.  He  went  to  Sardis,  where  he 
was  received  in  a  manner  suitable  to  the  reputation 
of  so  great  a  man.  The  king,  attended  with  a  nume 
roui  court,  appeared  in  all  his  regal  pomp  and  splen- 
dour, dressed  in  the  most  magnificent  apparel,  which 
was  all  over  enriched  with  gold,  and  glittered  with 
diamonds.  Notwithstanding  the  novelty  of  this 
spectacle  to  Solon,  it  did  not  appear  that  ne  was  the 
least  moved  at  it,  nor  did  he  utter  a  word  which  dis- 
covered the  least  surprise  or  admiration;  on  the  con- 
trary, people  of  sense  might  sufficiently  discern  from 
his  behaviour,  that  he  looked  upon  all  this  outward 
pomp,  as  an  indication  of  a  little  mind,  which  knows 
not  in  what  true  greatness  and  dignity  consist.  This 
coldness  and  indifference  in  Solon's  fir«t  approach, 
gave  the  king  no  favourable  opinion  of  his  new  guest. 

He  afterwards  ordered  that  all  his  treasures,  his 
magnificent  apartments  and  costly  furniture,  should 
be  showed  him;  as  if  he  expected",  by  the  multitude 
of  his  fine  vessels,  jewel?,  statues,  and  paintings,  to 
conquer  the  philosopher's  indifference.  But  these 
things  were  not  the  king;  and  it  was  the  king  that 
Solon  was  come  to  visit,  and  not  the  walls  and  cham- 
bers of  his  palace.  He  had  no  notion  of  making  a 
judgment  of  the  king,  or  an  estimate  of  his  worth,  bif 
"these  outward  appendages,  but  l<y  himself  and  his 
own  personal  qualities.  We  re  wo  .o  judge  at  present 
by  the  same  rule,  wr.  should  find  many  of  our  great 
men  wretchedly  naked  and  desolate. 

When  Solon  had  seen  all,  he  was  brought  back  to 
the  king.  Croesus  then  asked  him,  which  of  mankind 
in  all  his  travels  he  had  found  the  most  truly  happy? 
Onr  Telliis,  replied  Solon,  a  citizen  of  Athens,  a 
very  Jantst  and  food  man,  who,  after  having  lived 
all  fits  days  without  indigence,  having  always  teen 
his  country  in  a  flourishing  condition,  has  left  rkil- 
dren  that  are  universally  esteemed,  has  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing-  those  children's  children,  and  at 
last  died  gloriously  infighting  for  his  country. 

Such  an  answer  as  this,  in  which  gold  and  silvei 


,19—22. 

p.  625.  and  1  xir.  p.  680. 
26— 88. 

29—33,    Plut.  in  Sol.  p.  93,  94 
N  2 


150 


HISTORY  OF  THE  LYD1ANS. 


Were  accounted  as  nothing1,  teemed  to  Croesus  to  de- 
note a  strange  ignorance  and  stupidity.  However,  as 
he  Mattered  himself  that  he  should  be  ranked  at  least 
in  the  second  degree  of  happiness,  he  asked  him, 
Who  of  all  those  he  had  seen,  WHS  the  next  infelicity 
to  Telliis?  Solon  answered,  Cleobis  anil  Biton,  of 
Jlrgos,  two  brothers*,  who  had  left  behind  them  a 
perfect  pattern  of  fraternal  affection,  and  of  the  res- 
pect due  from  children  to  their  parents.  Upon  a  so- 
lemnfestival,  when  their  mother,  a  priestess  of  Juno, 
was  to  go  to  the  temple,  the  oxen  that  were  to  draw 
her  not  being'  ready,  the  two  sons  put  themselves  to 
the  yoke,  and  drew  their  mother's  chariot  thither, 
which  was  above  Jive  miles  distant.  All  the  mothers 
of  the  place,  ravished  with  admiration,  congratulated 
the  priestess  on  being  the  mother  of  such  .tons.  Sht, 
in  the  transports  of  her  joy  and  thankfulness,  earn- 
estly entreated  the  goddess  to  reward  her  children 
with  the  best  thing  that  heaven  can  give  to  man.  Her 
prayers  were  heard.  When  the  sacrifice  was  over, 
her  two  sons  fell  asleep  in  the  very  temple,  and  there 
died  in  a  soft  and  peaceful  slumber.3  In  honour  of 
their  piety,  the  people  <f  Jlrgos  consecrated  statues 
to  them  in  the  temple  of  Delphi. 

What,  then,  says  Croesus,  in  a  tone  that  showed 
bis  discontent,  you  do  not  reckon  me  in  the  number 
of  the  happy?  Solon,  who  was  not  willing  either  to 
flatter  or  exasperate  him  any  farther,  replied  calmly: 
King  ofLydia,  besides  many  other  advantages,  the 
•  gods  have  given  us  Grecians  a  spirit  of  moderation 
and  reserve,  which  has  produced  amongst  us  a  plain, 
popular  kind  of  philosophy,  accompanied  with  a  cer- 
tain generous  freedom,  void  of  pride  or  ostentation, 
and  therefore  not  well  suited  to  the  courts  of  kings: 
this  philosophy,  considering  what  an  infinite  number 
of  vicissitudes  and  accidents  the  life  of  man  is  liable 
to,  does  not  allow  us  either  to  glory  in  any  prosperity 
we  enjoy  ourselves,  or  to  admire  happiness  in  others, 
which  perhaps  may  prove  only  transient  or  superfi- 
cial. From  hence  he  took  occasion  to  represent  to 
him  farther,  That  the  life  of  man  seldom  exceeds  sev- 
enty years,  which  make  up  in  all  6250  days,  of  which 
no  two  are  exactly  alike;  so  that  the  time  to  come  is 
nothing  but  a  series  of  various  accidents,  which  can- 
not be  foreseen.  Therefore,  in  our  opinion,  contin- 
ued he,  no  man  can  be  esteemed,  but  he  whose  happi- 
ness God  continues  to  the  end  of  his  life:  as  for 
others  who  are  perpetually  exposed  to  a  thousand  dan- 
gers, we  account  their  happiness  as  uncertain  as  the 
crown  is  to  a  person  that  is  still  engaged  in  battle, 
and  has  not  yet  obtained  the  victory.  Solon  retired, 
when  he  had  spoken  these  words,3  which  served  only 
to  mortify  Croesus,  but  not  to  reform  him. 

./Esop,  the  author  of  the  Fables,  was  then  at  the 
court  of  this  prince,  by  whom  he  was  very  kindly  en- 
tertained. He  was  concerned  at  the  unhandsome 
treatment  Solon  received,  and  said  to  him  by  way  of 
advice:  Solon,  we  must  either  not  cnme  near  princes 
at  all,  or  speak  things  that  are  agreeable  to  them.* 
Say  ralher,  replied  Solon,  that  we  should  either  never 
come  near  them  at  all,  or  else  speak  such  things  as 
may  be  for  their  good. 

In  Plutarch's  time  some  of  the  learned  were  of  opi- 
nion, that  this  interview  between  Solon  and  Croesus 
did  not  agree  with  the  dates  of  chronology.  But  as 
those  dates  are  very  uncertain,  that  judicious  author 
did  not  think  this  objection  ought  to  prevail  against 
the  authority  of  several  credible  writers,  by  whom 
this  story  is  attested. 

What  we  have  now  related  of  Croesus  is  a  very  na- 
tural picture  of  the  behaviour  of  kings  and  great  men, 
who  for  the  most  part  are  seduced  by  (lattery;  and 
•hows  us  at  the  same  time  the  two  sources  from 
whence  that  blindness  generally  proceeds.  The  one 


»  Tli>!   fatigue  of  drawing  the  chariot  might  be  the  MUS 
of  it. 

I  A-  *•<:«•»;  yu'.ir  oa  vou9«T$«r=«{  Si  riv  Kj>oi>«v. 


.  .. 

•fi<rT»  The  jingle  of  the  word*  »«•  «»«TT»  if  »;  iXta-r*, 
which  H  n  beauty  in  the  original,  because  it  ia  founded  in 
tin  »enie,  cannot  be  rendered  into  any  language. 


is,  a  secret  inclination  which  all  men  have,  but  espe- 
cially the  great,  of  receiving  praise  without  any  pre 
caution,  and  of  judging  favourably  of  all  that  admire 
them  and  show  an  unlimited  submission  and  com- 
plaisance to  their  humours.  The  other  is,  the  great 
resemblance  there  is  between  flattery  and  a  sincere 
affection,  or  a  reasonable  respect;  which  is  sometime! 
counterfeited  so  exactly,  that  the  wisest  may  be  de- 
ceived, if  they  are  not  very  much  upon  their  guard. 

Croesus,  if  we  judged  ot  him  by  the  character  he 
bears  in  history,  was  a  very  good  prince,  and  worthy 
of  esteem  in  many  respects.  He  had  a  great  dial  of 
good  nature,  aflability,  and  humanity.  His  palace 
was  a  receptacle  for  men  of  wit  and  learning,  which 
shows  that  he  himself  was  a  person  of  learnfng,  and 
had  a  taste  for  the  sciences.  His  weakness  was,  that 
he  laid  too  great  stress  upon  riches  and  magnificence, 
thought  himself  great  and  happy  in  propo»*.iou  to  hii 
possessions,  mistook  regal  pomp  and  splendour  for 
true  and  solid  greatness,  and  fed  his  vanity  with  the 
excessive  submissions  of  those  that  stood  in  a  kind  of 
adoration  before  him. 

Those  learned  men,  those  wits  and  otb*r  c.-jurlitrs, 
that  surrounded  this  prince,  ate  at  his  tuble,  partook 
of  his  pleasures,  shared  his  confidence,  and  turiched 
themselves  by  his  bounty  and  liberality,  took  care  not 
to  thwart  the  prince's  taste,  and  never  thought  of  un- 
deceiving him  with  respect  to  his  errors  or  false  ideas. 
On  the  contrary,  they  made  it  their  business  to  cherish 
and  fortify  them  in  him,  extolling- him  perpetually  as 
the  most  opulent  prince  of  his  age,  and  never  speak- 
ing of  his  wealth,  or  the  magnificence  of  hi*  palace, 
but  in  terms  of  admiration  and  rapture;  because  they 
knew  this  was  the  sure  way  to  please  him,  mid  to  se- 
cure his  favour.  For  flattery  is  nothing  «:lse  but  a 
commerce  of  falsehood  and  lying,  founded  upon  in- 
terest on  one  side,  and  vanity  on  the  other.  The  flat- 
terer desires  to  advance  himself,  and  make  his  fortune; 
the  prince  to  be  praised  and  admired,  because  he  ia 
his  own  first  flatterer,  and  carries  within  himself  a 
more  subtle  and  better  prepared  poison  than  any  adu- 
lation gives  him. 

That  maxim  of  ^sop,  who  had  formerly  been  a 
slave,  and  still  retained  somewhat  of  the  spirit  and 
character  of  slavery,  though  he  had  varnished  it  over 
with  the  address  of  an  artful  courtier;  that  maxim  of 
his,  I  say,  which  recommended  to  Solon,  That  we 
should  either  not  come  near  kings,  or  s&y  what  it 
agreeable  to  them,  shows  us  with  what  kind  of  men 
Croesus  had  filled  his  court,  and  by  what  means  he 
had  banished  all  sincerity,  integrity,  and  duty,  from 
his  presence.  In  consequence  of  which,  we  see  he 
could  not  bear  that  noble  and  generous  freedom  in 
the  philosopher,  upon  which  he  ought  to  have  set  an 
infinite  value;  as  he  would  have  done,  had  he  but  un- 
derstood the  worth  of  a  friend,  who,  attaching  him- 
self to  the  person,  and  not  to  the  fortune,  of  a 
prince,  has  the  courage  to  tell  him  disagreeable  truth*; 
truths  unpalatable,  and  bitter  to  self-love  at  the  pre- 
sent, but  that  may  prove  very  salutary  and  service, 
able  for  the  future.  Die  tilis,  non  quod  volant  au- 
dire,  sed  quod  audisse  semper  volent.  These  are 
Seneca's  own  words,  where  he  is  endeavouring  to 
show  of  what  great  use  a  faithful  and  sincere  friend 
may  be  to  a  prince;  and  what  he  adds  farther,  seems 
to  be  written  on  purpose  for  Croesus:  Give  him,  say« 
he,  wholesome  advice.*  Let  a  word  of  truth  onct 
reach  those  ears,  which  are  perpetually  fed  and  enter- 
tained with  flattery.  You  will  ask  me,  What  servict 
can  be  done  to  a  person  arrived  at  the  highest  pitch 
of  felicity?  That  of  teaching  him  not  to  trust  in  hit 
prosperity;  of  removing  that  vain  confidence  he  has 
in  his  power  and  greatness,  as  if  they  were  toendnrt 
for  ever;  of  making  him  understand,  that  every  tiling 
which  belongs  to,  and  depends  upan,furtune,  is  asun- 


•  Plenm  aures  adulationibui  aliquando  veil  TOX  intret : 
da  ronsiliiiiii  utile.  Uumris.  quid  felid  pra>st«re  possis? 
lirfice,  ne  fulicitaii  suffi  crcdat.  1'arum  in  ilium  euutttleru 
si  illi  nemel,  multam  fiduciam  permansurae  semper  |x>tenti* 
excusserie,  <]m:ueri«|ue  miibilia  esce  qua;  dedil  i:a.;ug ;  aa 
s;c|«:  inter  fortunam  maximum  et  ullimam  nilnl  inlerett*? 
Sen.  lie  Bcntf.  1.  vi  c.  33. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  LYDIAN8. 


151 


tlahle  as  herself;  and  that  there  is  often  but  the  space 
of  a  moment  between  the  highest  elevation  and  the 
most  unhappy  downfall. 

It  was  not  long  before  Croesus  experienced  the  truth 
of  what  Solon  had  told  him.1  He  had  two  sons;  one 
of  which  being  dumb,  was  a  perpetual  subject  of  afflic- 
tion to  him ;  the  other,  named  Atvs,  was  distinguished 
by  every  good  quality,  and  his  great  consolation  and 
delight.  The  father  one  night  had  a  dream,  which 
made  a  great  impression  upon  his  mind,  that  this  be- 
loved son  of  his  was  to  perish  by  iron.  This  became  a 
new  source  of  anxiety  and  trouble,  and  care  is  taken 
to  remove  out  of  the  young  prince's  way  every  thing 
made  of  iron,  as  partisans,  lances,  javelins,  &c.  Ao 
mention  is  made  of  armies,  wars,  or  sieges,  before  him. 
But  one  day  there  was  to  be  an  extraordinary  hunting- 
match,  for  the  killiirg  of  a  wild  boar,  which  had  com- 
mitted great  ravage  in  the  neighbourhood.  All  the 
young  lords  of  the  court  were  to  be  at  this  hunting. 
Atys  very  earnestly  importuned  his  father  that  he 
would  give  him  leave  to  be  present,  at  least  as  a  spec- 
tator. The  king  could  not  refuse  him  that  request, 
but  entrusted  him  to  the  care  of  a  discreet  young 
prince,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  his  court,  and  was 
named  Adrastus.  And  this  very  Adrastus,  as  he  was 
aiming  his  javelin  at  the  boar,  unfortunately  killed 
Atys.  It  is  impossible  to  express  either  the  affliction 
of  the  father,  when  he  heard  of  this  fatal  accident,  or 
of  the  unhappy  prince,  the  innocent  author  of  the 
murder,  who  expiated  his  fault  with  his  blood,  stab- 
bing himself  in  the  breast  with  his  own  sword,  upon 
the  funeral  pile  of  the  unfortunate  Atys. 

Two  years  were  spent  on  this  occasion  in  deep 
mourning.2  the  afflicted  father's  thoughts  beingwholly 
taken  up  with  the  loss  he  had  sustained.  But  the 
growing  reputation  and  great  qualities  of  Cyrus,  who 
began  to  make  himself  known,  roused  him  out  of  his 
lethargy.  He  thought  it  behoved  him  to  puta  stop  to 
the  p.iwerof  the  Persians,  which  was  enlarging  itself 
every  day.  As  he  was  very  religious  in  his  way,  he 
would  never  enter  upon  any  enterprise  without  con- 
sulting the  gods.  But  that  he  might  not  act  blindly, 
and  in  order  to  be  able  to  form  a  certain  judgment 
on  the  answers  he  should  receive,  he  was  willing  to 
assure  himself  beforehand  of  the  trutli  of  the  oracles. 
For  which  purpose,  he  sent  messengers  to  all  the  most 
celebrated  oracles  both  of  Greece  and  Africa,  with 
orders  to  inquire,  every  one  at  his  respective  oracle, 
what  Croasus  was  doing  on  such  a  day  and  such  an 
hour,  before  agreed  on.  His  orders  were  punctually 
observed;  and  of  all  the  oracles  none  gave  a  true  an- 
swer but  that  of  Delphi.  The  answer  was  given  in 
Greek  hexameter  verses,  and  was  in  substance  as  fol- 
lows: I  know  the  number  of  the  grains  of  sand  on  the 
tea-shore,  and  the  measure  of  the  ocean's  vast  extent, 
lean  hear  the  dumb,  and  him  that  has  not  yet  learned  to 
tpenk.  A  strong  smell  nfa  tortoise,  boiled  in  brass, 
together  with  sheep's  flesh,  has  reached  my  nostrils, 
brass  beneath,  brass  above.  And  indeed  the  king, 
thinking  to  invent  something  that  could  not  possibly 
be  guessed  at,  had  employed  himself  on  the  day  and 


>  Merr-d.  ".  i  e  34—45 


•  Herod.  1.  i.  e. 


hour  set  down,  in  boiling  a  tortoise  and  a  lamb  in  • 
brass  pot  which  had  a  brass  cover.  St.  Austin  observe* 
in  several  places,  that  God,  to  punish  the  blindness 
of  the  Pagans,  sometimes  permitted  the  devils  to  give 
antwers  conformable  to  the  truth. 

Croesus,  thus  assured  of  the  veracity  of  the  god, 
whom  he  designed  to  consult,  offered  3000  victims  to 
his  honour,  and  ordered  an  infinite  number  of  vessels, 
tripods,  and  golden  tables  to  be  melted  down,  and 
converted  into  ingots  of  gold,  to  the  number  of  117,  to 
augment  the  treasures  of  the  temple  of  Delphi.  Each 
of  these  ingots  weighed  at  least  two  talents;  beside* 
which,  he  made  several  other  presents:  amongst 
others,  Herodotus  mentions  a  golden  lion,  weighing 
ten  talents,  and  two  vessels  of  an  extraordinary  sire, 
one  of  gold,  which  weighed  eight  talents  and  a  half 
and  twelve  minae;  the  other  of  silver,  which  contained 
600  of  the  measures  called  amphorae.  All  these  pre- 
sents, and  many  more,  which  for  brevity's  sake  I  omit, 
were  to  be  seen  in  the  time  of  Herodotus. 

The  messengers  were  ordered  to  consult  the  god 
upon  two  points:  first,  whether  Croesus  should  un- 
dertake a  war  against  the  Persians;  secondly,  if  he 
did,  whether  he  should  require  the  succour  of  any 
auxiliary  troops.  The  oracle  answered,  upon  the  first 
article,  that  if  he  carried  his  arms  against  the  Persians 
he  would  subvert  a  great  empire;  upon  the  second, 
that  he  would  do  well  to  make  alliances  with  the 
most  powerful  states  of  Greece.  He  consulted  the 
oracle  again,  to  know  how  long  the  duration  of  his 
empire  would  be.  The  answer  was,  that  it  should 
subsist  till  a  mule  came  to  possess  the  throne  of  Me- 
dia; which  he  considered  as  an  assurance  of  the  per- 
petual duration  of  his  kingdom. 

Pursuant  to  the  direction  of  the  oracle,  Croesus  en- 
tered into  alliance  with  the  Athenians,  who  at  that 
time  had  Pisistratus  at  their  head,  aud  with  the  Lace- 
daemonians, who  were  indisputably  the  two  most 
powerful  states  of  Greece. 

A  certain  Lydian,8much  esteemed  for  his  prudence, 
gave  Croesus,  on  this  occasion,  very  judicious  advice. 
O  prince,  says  he  to  b]m,why  do  you  think  of  turning 
your  arms  against  such  a  people  as  the  Persians,  who, 
being  horn  in  a  wild,  rugged  country,  are  inurett 
from  their  infancy  to  every  kind  of  hardship  and  fa- 
tigue; who  being  coarsely  clad  and  coarsely  fed,  can 
content  themselves  with  bread  and  wattr;  who  are  ab- 
solute strangers  to  all  the  delicacies  and  convenience* 
of  life;  who,  in  a  word,  have  nothing  to  lose  if  yov 
conquer  them,  and  every  thing  to  gain  if  they  conquer 
you;  and  whom  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  drive  out 
of  our  country,  if  they  should  once  come  to  taste  the 
sweets  and  advantages  of  it?  Kofar  therefore  from 
thinking  of  beginning  a  war  against  them,  it  is  my 
opinion  we  ought  to  thank  the  gods  they  have  never 
put  it  into  the  heads  of  the  Persians  to  come  and  at- 
tack the  Lydians.  But  Croesus  had  taken  bis  resolu- 
tion, and  would  not  be  diverted  from  it. 

What  remains  of  the  history  of  Croesus  will  b« 
found  in  that  of  Cyrus,  which  I  am  now  going  to  be* 
gin. 


i  H.rod.l.  i.  e.  71. 


THE 


FOUNDATION  OF  THE  EMPIRE 


OF  THE 


PERSIANS    AND    MEDES 


BY  CYRUS. 


COHTAINING    1HE    REIGNS    OF    CYRUS,    OF    CAMBYSES,    AND    SMERPIS    THE    MAGIAN. 


BOOK    IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


THE  history  of  this  prince  is  differently  related  by 
Herodotus  and  Xenophon.  I  follow  the  latter,  as 
judging  him  infinitely  more  worthy  of  credit  on  this 
subject  than  the  former;  and  as  to  those  facts  wherein 
they  differ,  I  shall  think  it  sufficient  briefly  to  relate 
what  Herodotus  says  of  them.  It  is  well  known, 
that  Xenophon  served  a  long  time  under  the  younger 
Cyrus,  who  had  in  his  troops  a  great  number  of  Per- 
sian noblemen,  with  whom  undoubtedly  this  writer, 
considering  how  curious  he  was,  did  often  converse, 
in  order  to  acquaint  himself  by  that  nirans  with  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  Persians,  with  their  con- 
quests in  general,  but  more  particularly  with  those  of 
the  prince  who  had  founded  their  monarch  v,  and  whoie 
history  he  proposed  to  write.  This  he  t*ll*  us  himself, 
in  the  beginning  of  his  Cyropafdia:  Having  arrays 
looked  itpon  this  great  man  as  worthy  if  admiration, 
I  look  a  pleasure  of  informing  myself  of  his  birth, 
his  natural  disposition,  and  the  method  <~f  his  educa- 
tion, that  I  might  know  by  what  means  he  became  30 
great  a  prince;  and  herein  1  advance  nothing  but 
•what  has  been  told  me. 

As  to  what  Cicero  says,  in  his  first  letter  to  his 
brother  Quinta,  that  Xennphon's  design  in  writing 
the  history  of  Cyrus,  was  not  so  much  to  follow  truth, 
as  to  give  a  model  of  a  just  government;*  this  ought 
not  to  lessen  the  authority  of  thst  judicious  historian, 
or  make  us  give  the  less  credit  to  what  he  relates.  All 
that  can  be  inferred  from  thence  is,  that  the  design  of 
Xenophon,  who  was  a  great  philosopher,  as  well  as 
a  great  captain,  was  not  merely  to  write  Cyrus's  his- 
tory, but  to  represent  him  as  a  model  and  example  to 
princes,  for  their  instruction  in  the  arts  of  reigning, 
and  of  gaining  the  love  of  their  subjects,  notwith- 
standing; the  pomp  and  elevation  of  their  stations. 
With  this  view  he  may  possibly  have  lent  his  hero 
some  thoughts,  some  sentiments,  or  discourses,  of  his 
own.  But  the  substance  of  the  facts  and  events  he 
relates,  is  to  be  deemed  true;  and  of  this  their  con- 
formity with  the  holy  Scripture  is  of  itself  a  sufficient 
proof.  The  reader  may  see  the  dissertation  of  the 
Abbe  Banier  upon  this  subject  in  the  Memoirs  of  the 
Academy  of  Belles  Lettres.8 

For  the  greater  perspicuity,  I  divide  the  history  of 
Cyrus  into  three  parts.  The  first  will  rc;;rh  from  his 
birth  to  the  siege  of  Babylon:  the  second  will  compre- 
hend the  description  of  the  siege,  and  the  taking  of 
that  city,  with  every  thing  else  that  relates  to  that 


•  Cyrus  ill«  a  X.,<iophoiite,  non  ad  hi'toric  fidem  icriptut, 
•sd  id  e/figum  ju«ti  imperil.  »  Vol.  vi.  p.  400.       j 


great  event:  the  third  will  contain  that  prince's  his- 
tory, from  the  taking  of  Babylon  to  his  death. 

ARTICLE  I. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  CYRUS   FROM   HIS   INFANCY  TO 
THE    SIEGE   OF  BABYLON. 

This  interval  besides  his  education,  and  the  journey 
he  made  into  Media  to  his  grandfather  Astyages,  in- 
cludes the  first  campaigns  of  Cyrus,  and  the  important 
expeditions  subsequent  to  them. 

SECTION  I. — CYRUS'S  EDUCATION. 

CYRUS  was  the  son  of  Cambvses, 
king  of  Persia,  and  of    Mandane,  A.  M.  3-105 

daughter  to   Astyages,  king  of  the      Ant.  J.  C.  599 
Medea.*      He  was  born  one    year 
nfier  his  uncle  Cyaxares,  the  brother  of  Mandane. 

The  Persians  were  at  this  time  divided  into  twelra 
tribes,  and  inhabited  only  one  province  of  that  vast 
country  which  has  since  borne  the  name  of  Persia, 
and  were  not  in  all  above  120,000  men.  But  this 
people  having  afterwards,  through  the  prudence  and 
valour  of  Cyrus,  acquired  the  empire  oi  the  East,  the 
name  of  Persia  extended  itself  with  their  conquests 
and  fortune,  and  comprehended  all  that  vast  tract  of 
country  which  reaches  from  cast  to  west,  ironi  the  river 
Indus  to  the  Tigris;  and  from  north  to  south,  from 
the  Caspian  sea  to  the  ocean.  And  still  to  this  day 
the  country  of  Persia  has  the  same  extent. 

Cyrus  was  beautiful  in  his  person,  and  still  more 
deserving  of  esteem  for  the  qualities  ol  his  mind;  wa« 
of  a  very  sweet  disposition,  full  of  good  nature  and 
humanity,  and  had  a  great  desire  for  learning,  and  a 
noble  ardour  for  glory.  He  was  never  afraid  of  any 
danger,  or  discouraged  by  any  hardship  or  difficulty, 
where  honour  was  to  be  acquired.  He  wag  brought 
up  according  to  the  laws  and  customs  ol  the  Persian 
which  were  excellent  in  those  days  with  respect  to 
education. 

The  public  good,  the  common  benefit  of  the  nation, 
was  the  only  principle  and  end  of  all  their  laws.* 
The  education  of  children  was  looked  upon  as  the 
most  important  duty,  and  the  most  essential  part  of 
government:  it  was  not  left  to  the  care  of  lathers  and 
mothers,  whose  blind  affection  and  fondness  often 
rendered  them  incapable  of  that  office:  but  the  state 
took  it  upon  themselves.  Boys  were  all  brought  up 
in  common,  after  one  uniform  manner;  wh»re  every 
thing  was  regulated,  the  place  and  U-ngth  of  their 
exercises,  the  times  of  eating,  the  quality  of  their  meat 
and  drink,  and  their  different  kinds  of  punishimnt. 
The  only  food  allowed  either  the  children  or  the  young 


•  Xen.  Cyrop.  1.  i.  p.  3.  «  Xen.  Cyrop.  1.  i.  p.  3—8 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


153 


«en,  was  bread,  cresset  and  water;  for  their  design 
f  *s  tu  accustom  them  early  to  temperance  and  sohri- 
%ty  :  besides,  they  considered,  that  a  plain,  frugal 
liet,  without  any  mixture  of  sauces  or  ragouts,  would 
strengthen  the  body,  and  lay  such  a  foundation  of 
health,  as  would  enable  them  to  undergo  the  hard- 
ships and  fatigues  of  war  to  a  good  old  age. 

Here  boys  went  to  school  to  learn  justice  and  virtue, 
as  they  do  in  other  places  to  learn  arts  and  sciences; 
and  the  crime  most  severely  punished  amongst  them 
was  ingratitude. 

The  design  of  the  Persians,  in  all  these  wise  regu- 
lations WHJ  (o  prevent  evil,  being  convinced  that  it  is 
much  better  to  prevent  faults  than  to  punish  them: 
and  whereas  in  other  states  the  legislators  are  satis- 
fied with  enacting  punishments  for  criminals,  the  Per- 
sians endeavoured  so  to  order  it,  as  to  have  no  crimi- 
nal- i...  •  -«t  them. 

Till  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  of  age  the  boys  re- 
mained in  the  class  of  children,  a::-J  here  it  v*3?  they 
learned  to  draw  the  bow,  and  to  flina  th»-  <!i-'  -ir  73.  e 
lin;  after  which  they  were  received  into  ttir  .  i«-~  01 
jroung  men.  In  this  they  were  more  narrowly  watched 
and  kept  under  than  before,  because  that  age  requires 
the  strictest  inspection,  and  has  the  greatest  need  of 
restraint.  Here  they  remained  ten  years;  during 
which  time  they  passed  all  their  nigjits  in  keeping 
guard,  as  wel!  for  the  safety  of  the  city,  as  to  inure 
them  to  fatigue.  In  the  day-time  they  waited  upon 
their  governors,  to  receive  their  orders,  attended  the 
kinir  when  he  went  a  hunting,  or  improved  themselves 
m  their  exercises. 

The  third  class  consisted  of  men  grown  up;  and 
in  this  they  remained  five  and  twenty  years.  Out  of 
these  all  the  officers  that  were  to  command  in  the 
troops,  and  all  such  as  were  to  fill  the  different  posts 
and  employments  in  the  state,  were  chosen.  When 
they  were  turned  of  fifty,  they  were  not  obliged  to 
carry  arms  out  of  their  own  country. 

Besides  these,  there  was  a  fourth  or  last  class,  from 
whence  men  of  the  greatest  wisdom  and  experience 
were  chosen,  for  forming  the  public  council,  and  pre- 
siding in  the  courts  of  judicature. 

By  this  means  every  citizen  might  aspire  to  the 
chief  posts  in  the  government;  but  no  one  could  ar- 
rive at  them,  till  he  had  passed  through  all  these  seve- 
ral classes,  and  qualified  himself  for  them  by  all  these 
exercises.  The  classes  were  open  to  all;  but  gene- 
rally such  only  as  were  rich  enough  to  maintain  their 
children  without  working,  sent  them  thither. 

Cyrus  himself  was  educated  in  this  manner,  and 
surpassed  all  of  his  age.l  not  only  in  aptness  to  learn, 
but  in  courage  and  address  in  executing  whatever  he 
undertook. 

SECTION  II. — CYRUS'S  JOURNEY  TO  HIS  GRAND- 
FATHER ASTYAGES,  AND  HIS  RETURN  INTO  PER- 
SIA. 

WHEN  Cyrus  was  twelve  years  old,  his  mother 
Mandane  took  him  with  her  into  Media,  to  his  grand- 
father Astyages,  who,  from  the  many  things  he  had 
heard  said  in  favour  of  that  young  prfnce,  had  a  great 
desire  to  see  him.  In  this  court  yor.ng  Cyrus  found 
very  different  manners  from  those  of  his  own  country. 
Pride,  luxury,  and  magnificence  reigned  here  univer- 
sally. Astyajes  himself  was  richly  clothed,  had  his 
eyes  coloured,*  his  face  painted,  and  his  hair  embel- 
lished with  artificial  locks.  For  the  Medes  affected 
an  effeminate  life,  to  be  dressed  in  scarlet,  and  to  wear 
necklaces  and  bracelets;  whereas  the  habits  of  the 


•  Cvrop.  1.  i.  p.  8—22. 

»  Tli»  unarms,  in  order  to  set  off  the  beauty  of  the  fare, 
and  to  sive  more  life  to  tlieir  complexion*,  used  to  form  their 
eye-orow-j  into  nerlVct  arches,  and  to  colour  them  wiih 
black.  To  «ive  the  "reater  lustre  to  their  eves,  thev  made 
their  eve  lashes  of  the  samp  h!srkni-«».  This  artifice  wag 
much  in  use  amonj  the  H<'hrfw«.  It  is  said  of  Jnz>-liel, 
Depinri'  oeulos  SKOS  slibit.  -i  Kinss.  ix.  30.  This  drnj  had 
an  aalrinjent  quality,  which  shrunk  u:i  the  eye-lids,  and 
made  ih«-  eye*  appear  the  lareer,  which  at  that  time  wai 
re\-kiri.'i!  a  heauty.  Plin.  I.  xxxiii.  c.  6.  From  henrp  eomei 
inai  epithet,  which  Homer  «o  often  gives  to  his  goddenei : 
1  '-:'--.  ereat-eyed  Juno. 

VOL.  I. -20 


Persians  were  very  plain  and  coarse.  AH  this  finery 
did  not  dazzle  Cyrus,  who  without  criticising  or  con- 
demning what  he  saw,  was  contented  to  live  as  ht 
had  been  brought  up,  and  adhered  to  the  principle* 
he  had  imbibed  from  his  infancy.  He  charmed  his 
grandfather  with  his  sprightliness  and  wit, and  gained 
every  body's  favour  by  his  noble  and  engaging  beha- 
viour. I  shall  only  mention  one  instance,  whcrebj 
we  may  judge  of  the  rest. 

Astyages,  to  make  his  grandson  unwilling  to  return 
home,   made    a    sumptuous  entertainment,  in  which 
there  was  the  utmost    plenty  and  profusion  of  every 
thing  that  was  nice  and  delicate.     All  this  exquisite 
cheer  and  magnificent  preparation  Cyrus  looktd  upon 
with  great  indifference;  and    observing  Astyages  to 
be  surprised  at  his  behaviour:  The  Persians,  says  he 
to  the  king,  instead  of  going-  such  a  round-about  way 
to  appease  their  hunger,  have,  a  much  shorter  to  tht 
same  end;  a  little  bread  and  cresses  with  them  answer 
the  purpose.     Astyages  having  allowed  Cyrus  to  dis- 
^>«»»  i..   oil  the  meats  as  he  thought  fit,  the  latter  im- 
n,<>"'»teiv  distributed   them  to  the  king's  officers  in 
waiting,  «j  -<r.t.  Jt-  -----    *-t  "aught    him  to  ride;  to 

another,  because  he  waited  we..  ,  ;>on  a.;  t.,a>.  , 

and  to  a  third,  because  he  took  great  c»re  cf  his  ruo 
ther.  Sacas,  the  king's  cup-bearer,  was  the  only  per 
son  to  whom  he  gave  nothing.  This  officer,  besides 
the  post  of  cup-beaier,  had  that  likewise  of  introdu- 
cing those  who  were  to  have  audience  of  the  king; 
and  as  he  could  not  possibly  grant  that  favour  to  Cy- 
rus as  often  as  he  desired  it,  he  had  the  misfortune  to 
displease  the  prince,  who  took  this  occasion  to  show 
his  resentment.  Astyages  testifying  some  concern  at 
the  neglect  shown  to  this  officer,  for  whom  he  had  a 
particular  regard,  and  who  deserved  it,  as  he  said, 
on  account  of  the  wonderful  dexterity  with  which 
he  served  him:  Is  that  all,  papa?  replied  Cyrus;  \f 
that  be  sufficient  to  merit  yourfavour,  you  shall  set 
I  will  quickly  obtain  it;  for  I  will  take  upon  me  to 
serve  you  better  than  he.  Immediately  Cvrus  is 
equipped  as  a  cup-bearer,  and  advancing  gravely  with 
a  serious  countenance,  a  napkin  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  holding  the  cup  nicely  with  three  of  his  fingem, 
he  presented  it  to  the  king  with  a  dt  xterity  and  grace 
that  charmed  both  Astyages  and  Mandane.  YVhen 
he  had  done,  he  flung  himself  upon  his  grand-father's 
neck,  and  kissing  him,  cried  out  with  great  joy:  O 
Sacas!  poor  Sacas!  than  art  undone ;  I  shall  hare  thy 
place.3  Astyages  embraced  him  with  great  fondnes*, 
and  said,  lam  mighty  well  pleased,  my  dear  rhild; 
nobody  can  serve  me  with  a  better  grace:  but  you 
havefnrgotten  one  essential  ceremony,  which  is  that 
of  tasting.  And  indeed  the  cup-bearer  was  used  to 
pour  some  of  the  liquor  into  his  left  hand,  and  to 
taste  ix,  before  he  presented  it  to  the  king:  .Vo,  re- 
plied Cyrus,  it  is  not  through  forge/fulness  Ihit  I 
omitted'  that  ceremony.—  W hy,  then,  says  Astyages, 
for  what  reason  did  you  do  it? — Because  1  appre- 
hfnded  there  was  poison  in  the  liquor. — Poison,  child! 
How  could  you  tkink  sol—  Yet;  poison,  papa;  for  not 
long  ago,  at  an  entertainment  you  gave  to  the  lords 
of  your  court,  after  the  guests  had  drunk  a  little  of 
that  liquor,  I  perceived  all  their  heads  were  turned, 
they  sung,  made  a  noise,  and  talked  (hey  did  not  know 
what. -you  yourself  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  you 
were  king,  and  they  thai  they  weresuljects;  and  when 
you  would  have  danced,  you  cmdd  not  stand  irpon  yoiif 
'legs. —  IPhy.  says  Astyages.  have  you  never  seen  tht 
same  thing  happen  to  your  father? — No,  never,  savi 
Cvrus.  How  is  it  with  him  when  he  drinks? — Why. 
w'hen  he  has  drunk,  his  thirst  is  quenched,  and  that't 
all. 

We  cannot  too  much  admire  the  skill  of  the  histo- 
rian in  giving  such  an  exctll.  ut  lesson  of  sobriety  in 
this  story;  he  might  have  done  it  in  a  serious  grave 
way,  and"  have  spoken  with  the  air  of  a  philosopher; 
for'Xenophon,  warrior  as  he  was,  was  no  li-ss  exceW 
lent  a  philosopher  than  his  master  Socrates.  But  in- 
stead of  that,  he  puts  the  instruction  into  the  mouth  of 
a  child,  and  conceals  it  under  the  veil  of  a  story,  which, 


JD4 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


in  the  original,  is  told  with  all  the  wit  and  agreeable- 
ness  imaginable. 

Mandaue  being  upon  the  point  of  returning  to  Per- 
•ia,  Cyrus  joyfully  complied  with  the  repeated  re- 
quests his  grandfather  had  made  to  him  to  stay  in 
Media;  being  desirous,  as  he  said,  to  perfect  himself 
in  the  art  of  riding,  which  he  was  not  yet  master  of, 
and  which  was  not  Known  in  Persia,  where  the  barren- 
ness of  his  country,  and  its  craggy  mountainous  situ- 
ation, rendered  it  unlit  for  the  breeding  of  horses. 

During  the  tune  of  his  residence  at  this  court,  his 
behaviour  procured  him  infinite  love  and  esteem.  He 
was  gentle,  atlable,  anxious  to  oblige,  beneficent,  and 
generous.  Whenever  the  young  lords  had  any  favour 
to  ask  of  the  king,  Cyrus  was  their  solicitor.  If  the 
king  had  any  subject  of  complaint  against  them,  Cy- 
rus was  their  mediator;  their  affairs  became  his;  and 
be  always  managed  them  so  well,  that  he  obtained 
whatever  he  desired. 

When  Cyrus  was  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  the 
son  of  the  king  of  the  Babylonians'  (this  was  Kvil- 
Merodach,  son  of  Nabuchodonosor.)  at  a  hunting- 
match  a  little  before  his- marriage  thought  fit,  in  order 
to  show  his  bravery,  to  make  an  irruption  into  the 
territories  of  the  \Iedes;  which  obliged  Astyages  to 
take  the  field  to  oppose  the  invader.  Here  it  was 
that  Cvrus,  having  followed  his  grandfather,  served 
bis  apprenticeship  in  war.  He  behaved  himself  so 
well  on  this  occasion,  that  the  victory  which  the 
Medes  gained  over  the  Babylonians  was  chiefly  owing 
to  his  valour. 

The  year  after,  his  father  recall- 

A.  M.  3421.  ing  him,  that  he  might  complete 
Ant.  J.  C.  583.  his  course  in  the  Persian  exercises, 
he  departed  immediately  from  the 
court  of  Media,  that  neither  his  father  nor  his  coun- 
try might  have  any  room  to  complain  of  his  delay. 
This  occasion  showed  how  much  he  was  beloved.  At 
bis  departure  he  was  accompanied  by  all  sorts  of  peo- 
ple, young  and  old.  Astyages  himself  conducted  him 
a  good  part  of  his  journey  on  horseback;  and  when 
the  sad  moment  came  that  they  must  part,  the  whole 
company  were  batbed  in  tears. 

Thus  Cyrus  returned  into  his  own  country,  and  re- 
entered  the  class  of  children,  where  he  continued  a 
year  longer.  His  companions,  after  his  long  residence 
in  so  voluptuous  and  luxurious  a  court  as  that  of  the 
Medes,  expected  to  find  a  great  change  in  his  man- 
ners; but  when  they  found  that  he  was  content  with 
their  ordinary  table,  and  that,  when  he  was  present  at 
any  entertainment,  he  was  more  sober  and  temperate 
than  any  of  the  company,  they  looked  upon  him  with 
new  admiration. 

From  this  first  class  he  passed  into  the  second, 
which  is  the  class  of  youths;  and  there  it  quickly  ap- 
peared that  he  had  not  his  equal  in  dexterity,  ad- 
dress, patience,  and  obedience. 

Ten  years  after,  he  was  admitted  into  the  men's 
class,  wiierein  he  remained  thirteen  years,  till  he  set 
out  at  the  head  of  the  Persian  army,  to  go  to  the  aid 
of  his  uncle  Cyaxares. 

SECTION  III.— THE  FIRST  CAMPAIGN  OF  CYRUS, 
WHO  GOES  TO  AID  HIS  UNCLE  CYAXARES  AGAINST 
THE  BABYLONIANS. 

Astyages,*  king  of  the  Medet, 
A.  M.  3444.  dying,  was  succeeded  by  his  son 
Ant.  J.  C.  560.  Cyaxares,  brother  to  Cyrus's  mo- 
ther. Cyaxares  was  no  sooner  on 
the  throne,  than  he  was  engaged  in  a  terrible  war. 
He  wa<*  informed  that  the  king  of  the  Babylonians 
(Neriglissor)  was  preparing  a  powerful  army  against 
him,  and  that  he  had  already  engaged  several  princes 
on  hissiHe,  and  amongst  others  Croesus,  king  of  Lydia; 
that  he  had  likewise  sent  ambassadors  to  the  king  of 
India,  to  give  him  bad  impressions  of  the  Medes  and 

t  In  Xenophon  thii  people  are  always  nailed  Amyrians ; 
and  in  truth  they  are  A*«yrian«,  but  Ai«yriani  of  Babylon, 
whom  we  mu«t  not  confound  with  thone  of  Nineveh,  whose 
empire.  a.«  we  hare  »een  already,  wak  utterly  destroyed  by 
the  ruin  of  Nineveh,  the  capital  thereof. 

•  Cyr  p.  I.  i.  p.  2*— 37. 


Persians,  by  representing  to  him  how  dangerous  • 
closer  alliance  and  union  between  two  nations  already 
so  powerful  might  be,  since  they  could  in  the  end 
subdue  all  the  nations  around  them,  if  a  vigorous  op- 
position was  not  made  to  the  progress  of  their  power. 
Cyaxares  therefore  despatched  ambassadors  to  Cam- 
bvses,  to  desire  succours  from  him:  and  ordered  them 
to  bring-  it  about,  that  Cyrus  should  have  the  com- 
mand of  the  troops  his  father  was  to  send.  This  was 
readily  granted.  As  soon  at  it  was  known  that  Cyrus 
was  to  march  at  the  head  of  the  army,  the  joy  wa» 
universal.  The  army  consisted  of  30,000  men,  all  in- 
fantry (for  the  Persians  as  yet  had  no  cavalry;)  but 
they  were  all  chosen  men,  and  such  as  had  been  raised 
after  a  particular  manner.  First  of  all  Cyrus  chose 
out  of  the  nobility  200  of  the  bravest  officers,  each  of 
whom  was  ordered  to  choose  out  four  more  of  the 
same  sort,  which  made  1000  in  all;  and  these  were 
the  officers  that  were  called  'O^iT./.s.,3  and  who  sig- 
nalized themselyes  afterwards  so  gloriously  upon  all 
occasions.  F.very  one  of  this  thousand  was  appointed 
to  raise  among  the  people  ten  light-armed  pike-men, 
ten  slingers,  and  ten  bowmen;  which  amounted  iutb« 
whole  to  31,000  men. 

Before  they  proceeded  to  the  choice.  Cyrus  thought 
fit  to  make  a'speech  to  the  200  officers,  whom,  after 
having  highly  praised  them  for  Uieir  courage,  he  in- 
spired with  the  strongest  assurance  of  victory  and 
success.  Do  you  knote,  says  he  to  them,  the  nature 
of  the  enemy  you  have  tn  deal  with?  They  are  soft, 
effeminate,  enervated  men,  already  half  conquered  by 
their  own  luxury  and  voluptuousness;  mennot  able  to 
bear  either  hunger  or  thirst;  equally  incapable  of  sup- 
porting either  the  toil  of  tear  or  the  fight  of  danger: 
whereas  yon,  that  are  inured  from  your  irfancy  to  a 
sober  and  hard  way  of  living;  to  you,  I  say,  hunger 
and  thirst  are  but  the  sauce,  and  the  only  sauce,  to 
your  meals;  fatigues  art  your  pleasure,  dangers  your 
delight,  and  the  "love  of  your  country  and  of  glory 
your  only  passion.  Besides,  the  justice  of  your  cavte 
is  another  considerable  advantage.  Tiicy  are  ike  ag- 
gressors. It  is  the  enemy  that  attacks  us,  and  it  it 
our  friends  and  allies  that  require  our  aid.  Can  any 
thing  be  more  just  than  to  repel  the  injury  they  offer 
us?  Is  there  any  thing  more  honourable  than  to  ji y 
to  the  assistance  of  our  friends?  Bui  vihut  might  to 
be  the  principal  motive  of  your  confidence  is,  that  I 
do  not  engage  in  this  expedition  without  having  firtt 
consulted  the  gods,  and  implored  their  protection  ;for 
ynn  know  it  is  my  custom  to  begin  all  my  actions,  and 
nil  my  undertakings,  in  that  manner. 

Cyrus  soon  after  set  o-.it  without 
loss  of  time;  but  before  his  depar-  A.  M.  3445. 

ture  he  invoked  the  gods  of  the  Ant.  J.  C.  559. 
country  a  second  time.  For  his  great 
maxim  was,  and  he  had  it  from  his  father,  thnt  a  man 
ought  not  to  farm  any  enterprise,  great  or  small,  with- 
out consulting  the  divinity,  and  imploring  his  protec- 
tion. Camb_yses  had  ofte'n  taught  him  to  consider, 
that  the  prudence  of  men  is  very  short,  and  their  \  :*  wa 
very  limited;  that  they  cannot  peneti-ale  into  futurity; 
and*  that  many  times  what  they  think  must  needs  turn 
to  their  advantage,  proves  tfieir  ruin;  whereas  the 
gods,  being  eternal,  know  all  th:ngs,  future  as  well  as 
past,  and  inspire  those  they  love  to  undertake  what  is 
most  expedient  for  them:  which  is  a  favour  and  a  pro- 
tection they  owe  to  no  man,  and  grant  only  to  those 
that  invoke  and  consult  them. 

Csmbyses  accompanied  his  son  as  far  as  the  fron- 
tiers of 'Persia;  and  in  the  way  gave  him  excellent 
instructions  concerning  the  duties  of  the  general  of  an 
army.  Cyrus  thought  himself  ignorant  of  nothing 
that'  related  to  the  business  of  war,  after  the  many 
lessons  he  had  received  from  the  most  able  masters 
of  that  time.  Have  your  masters,  says  Carobjm  to 
him,  s'iren  you  any  instructions  concerning  economy, 
that  is  to  say,  concerning  the  manner  of  supplying  an 
army  with  all  necessary  provisions.  r>f  preventing 
sirkness,  and  preserving  the  health  of  the  soldiert, 
nffortifiting  their  bodies  by  frequent  exercisfs,  of 
exciting'a  generous  emulation  amongst  them,  of  ma- 

•  Men  of  the  same  dignity. 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS, 


155 


£th*T  yourself  obeyed,  esteemed,  and  beloved  by  your 
goluitrs?  Upon  each  of  these  points,  and  uponseve- 
fal  others  mentioned  by  the  king,  Cyrus  owned  he 
had  never  heard  one  word  spoken,  and  that  it  was  all 
entirely  new  to  him.  Jf^hat  is  it  then  your  masters 
have  taught  you? — They  have  taught  me  to  fence,  re- 
plied the  prince,  to  draw  the  bow,  to  fling  the  javelin, 
to  mark  out  a  camp,  to  draw  the  plan  of  a  fortification, 
to  rnnge  troops  in  order  of  battle,  to  review  them,  to 
tee  them  march,  flile  off,  and  encamp.  Cainbyses, 
lulling,  gave  his  son  to  understand,  that  th<  v  bad 
taught  him  nothing  of  what  was  most  material  and 
essential  for  a  good  officer  and  an  expert  commander 
to  know:  and  in  one  single  conversation,  which  cer- 
tainly deserves  to  be  well  studied  by  all  young  gen- 
tlemen designed  for  the  army,  he  taught  him  infi- 
nitely more  than  all  the  celebrated  masters  had  done, 
in  the  course  of  several  years.  One  short  instance 
•f  this  discourse  may  serve  to  give  the  reader  an  idea 
Ot  the  rest. 

The  question  was,  What  are  the  proper  means  of 
making  the  soldiers  obedient  and  submissive?  The 
way  to  effect  that,  says  Cyrus,  seems  to  be  very  easy, 
and  very  certain;  it  is  only  to  praise  and  reward 
those  that  obey,  to  punish  and  stigmatize  such  as  fail 
in  their  duty. —  You  say  well,  replied  Cambyses;  that 
it  the  way  to  make  them  obey  by  force;  but  the  chief 
point  is,  to  make  them  obey  you  willingly  and  freely. 
Now  the  sure  methnd  of  effecting  this,  is  to  convince 
thosf  you  command,  that  you  know  better  what  is  for 
their  advantage  than  they  do  themselves;  for  all  man- 
Iftnd  readily  submit  to  those  of  whom  they  have  that 
opinion.  Tins  is  the  principle,  from  whence  that 
blind  submission  proceeds  ichich  you  see  sick  persons 
pay  to  their  physician,  travellers  to  their  guide,  and 
a  ship's  company  to  the  pilot.  Their  obedience  is 
founded  only  upon  their  persuasion,  that  the  physi- 
tian,  the  guide,  and  the  pilot,  are  all  more  skilful  and 
better  informed  in  their  respective  callings  than 
themselves. — But  what  shall  a  man  do,  says  Cyrus  to 
his  lalher,  to  appear  more  skilful  and  expert  than 
othersl—iffe  must  really  be  so,  replied  Cambyses; 
and  in  order  to  l,e  so,  he  must  apply  himself  closely  to 
his  profession,  diligently  study  all  the  miss  of  it,  con- 
tull  the  most  c.hle  and  experienced  masters,  neglect  no 
circumstance  that  may  contribute  to  the  success  of  Ids 
enterprise;  and,  above  all,  he  must  have  recourse  to 
theprotection  of  the  gods,  from  whom  alone  we  re- 
ceive all  our  wisdom,  and  all  our  success. 

As  soon  as  Cyrus  had  arrived  in  Media,'  and  reach- 
ed Cyaxares,  the  first  thing  he  did,  after  the  usual 
compliments  had  passed,  was  to  inform  himself  of  the 
quality  and  number  of  the  forces  on  both  sides.  It  ap- 
peared by  the  computation  made  of  them,  that  the 
enemy's  army  amounted  to  200,000  foot,  and  60,000 
horse;  and  that  the  united  armies  of  the  Medes  and 
Persians  scarce  amounted  to  half  the  number  of  foot; 
and  as  to  the  cavalry,  the  Medes  had  not  so  many  by 
a  third.  This  great  inequality  put  Cyaxares  in  terri- 
ble fears  and  perplexities.  "He  could  think  of  no 
Other  expedient  than  to  send  for  another  body  of 
troops  from  Persia,  more  numerous  than  that  already 
arrived.  But  this  expedient,  besides  that  it  would 
have  taken  up  too  much  time,  appeared  in  iuelf  im- 
practicable. Cyrus  immediately  proposed  another, 
more  sure  and  more  expeditious,  which  was,  that  his 
Persian  soHiers  should  change  their  arms.  As  they 
chiefly  used  the  how  and  javelin,  and  consequently 
their  manner  of  fighting  was  at  a  distance,  in  which 
kind  of  engagement  the  greater  number  was  easily- 
Superior  to  the  lesser,  Cyrus  was  of  opinion  that  they 
should  be  armed  with  such  weapons  as  should  oblige 
them  t->  come  ta  blows  with  the  enemy  immediately, 
and  by  that  means  render  the  superiority  of  their 
numbers  useless.  This  project  was  highly  approved, 
tnd  instantlv  put  into  execution. 

Cyrus  established  a  wonderful  order  among  the 
troops,*  and  inspired  them  with  a  surprising  emula- 
tion, by  the  rewards  he  promised,  aiid  by  his  obliging 
»r.d  engaging  deportment  towards  all.  He  valued 


Cyrop  \.  iL  p.  3&-«9, 


»  C/rop.  I.  ii.  p.  44. 


money  only  as  it  allowed  him  an  opportunity  of  being 
generous.  He  was  continually  making  presents  to 
one  or  other,  according  to  their  rank  or  their  merit; 
to  one  a  buckler,  to  another  a  sword,  or  something 
of  the  same  kind  equally  acceptable.  By  this  generos- 
ity, this  greatness  of  soul,  and  beneficent  disposition, 
he  thought  a  general  ought  to  distinguish  himself,  and 
not  by  the  luxury  of  his  table,  or  the  richness  of  his 
clothes,  and  still  less  by  his  haughtiness  and  imperi- 
ous demeanour.  A  commander  could  not,  he  said, 
give  actual  proofs  of  hit  munificence  to  every  body.3 
and  for  that  very  reason  he  thought  himself  obliged 
to  convince  every  body  of  his  inclination  and  good 
will: for  though  a  prince  might  exhaust  his  treasures 
by  making  presents,  yet  he  could  not  injure  himself 
by  benevolence  and  ajffability ;  by  being  sincerely  con- 
cerned in  the  good  or  evil  that  happens  to  others,  and 
by  making  it  appear  that  he  is  so. 

One  day,*  as  Cyrus  was  reviewing  his  army,  a  mes- 
senger came  to  him  from  Cyaxares,  to  acquaint  him, 
that  some  ambassadors  being  arrived  from  the  king 
of  the  Indies,  he  desired  his  presence  immediately. 
For  this  purpose,  said  he,  I  have  brought  you  a  rich 
garment ;  for  the  king  desires  you  would  appear  mag- 
nificently dressed  before  the  Indians,  to  do  the  nation 
honour.  Cyrus  lost  not  a  moment's  time,  but  instant- 
ly set  out  with  his  troops,  to  wait  upon  the  king, 
though  without  changing  his  dress,  which  was  very 
plain,  after  the  Persian  fashion,  and  not  (as  the  Greek 
text  has  it)  polluted  or  spoiled  by  any  foreign  orna- 
ment.5 Cyaxares  seemed  at  first  a  little  displeased 
with  it;  If  I  had  dressed  myself  in  purple,  says  Cyrus, 
and  loaded  myself  with  bracelets  and  chains  of  gold, 
and  with  all  that  had  been  longer  in  coming,  should 
I  have  done  you  more  honour  than  I  do  now  by  my 
expedition,  and  the  sweat  of  my  face,  and  by  letting 
all  the  world  see  with  what  promptitude  and  despatch 
your  orders  are  obeyed? 

Cyaxares,  satisfied  with  this  answer,  ordered  the 
Indian  ambassadors  to  be  introduced.  The  purport 
of  their  speech  was,  that  they  were  sent  by  the  King 
thei  r  master  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  war  between  the 
Medes  and  the  Babylonians, and  that  they  had  orders, 
as  soon  as  they  had  heard  what  the  Medes  should  say, 
to  proceed  to  the  court  of  Babylon,  to  know  what 
motives  they  had  to  allege  on  their  part:  to  the  end 
that  the  king,  their  master,  after  having  examined  the 
reasons  on  both  sides,  might  take  part  with  those  who 
had  right  and  justice  on  their  side.  This  is  making  a 
noble  and  glorious  use  of  great  power;  to  be  influen- 
ced only  by  justice,  to  seek  no  advantage  from  the 
division  of  neighbours,  but  declare  openly  against 
the  unjust  aggressor,  in  favour  of  the  injured  party. 
Cyaxares  and  Cyrus  answered,  that  they  had  given 
the  Babylonians  no  subject  of  complaint,  and  that 
they  willingly  accepted  the  mediation  of  the  king  of 
India.  It  appears  in  the  sequel  that  he  declared  for 
the  Mede*. 

The  king  of  Armenia,'  who  was  a  vassal  of  th« 
Medes,  looking  upon  them  as  ready  to  be  swallowed 
up  by  the  formidable  league  form- 
ed against  them,  thought  fit  to  lay  A.  M.  3447. 
hold  on'  this  occasion  to  shake  oil  Ant.  J.  C.  557. 
theiryoke.  Accordingly,  he  refused 
to  psy  them  the  ordinary  tribute,  and  to  send  them 
the  number  of  troops  he  was  obliged  to  furnish  in 
time  of  war.  This  highly  embarrassed  Cyaxares,  who 
was  afraid  at  this  juncture  of  bringing  new  enemies 
upon  his  hands,  if  he  undertook  to  compel  the  Anne 
nians  to  execute  their  treaty.  But  Cyrus,  having 
informed  himself  exactly  of  the  strength  and  situation 
of  the  country,  undertook  the  affair.  The  important 
point  was  to  keep  the  design  secret,  without  which  it 
was  not  likely  to  succeed.  He  therefore  appointed  a 
great  hunting-match  on  that  side  of  the  country;  for 
it  was  his  custom  to  ride  out  that  way,  and  frequently 
to  hunt  with  the  king's  son,  and  the'young  noblemen 


»  Cyrop.  1.  viii  p.  207.  «  Ibid.  I.  ii.  p.  56. 

•  'E»  TK  Iltps-i.,   <rte».«  ,i,ti,  TI   i5f .«•>.!,,.     A  fine  ex- 
preuion,  but  noi  lo  be  rendered   into  any  other 

with  tlie  name  beauijr. 

•  Cyrop  1.  ii.  p.  58—61. 1.  iii.  p.  63—70 


1 50 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


ef  Armenia.  On  the  day  appointed,  he  set  out  with 
a  numerous  retinue.  The  troops  followed  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  were  not  to  appear  till  a  signal  was  given. 
After  some  days'  hunting,  when  they  were  come 
pretty  near  the'paiace  where  the  court  resided,  Cyrus 
communicated  his  design  to  his  officers;  and  sent 
Chrysantas  with  a  detachment,  ordering  them  to  make 
themselves  masters  of  a  certain  steep  eminence,  where 
he  knew  the  king  used  to  retire,  in  case  of  an  alarm, 
with  his  family  aud  his  treasure. 

This  being  done,  he  sends  a  herald  to  the  king  of 
Armenia,  to  summon  him  to  perform  the  treaty,  and 
in  the  mean  time  orders  his  troops  to  advance.  Never 
was  greater  surprise,  and  the  perplexity  was  equally 
great.  The  king  was  conscious  of  the  wrong  he  had 
done;  and  was  now  destitute  of  every  resource.  How- 
ever, he  did  what  he  could  to  assemble  his  forces  to- 
gether from  all  quarters;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  de- 
spatched his  youngest  son,  called  Sabaris,  into  the 
mountains,  with  his  wives,  his  daughters,  and  what- 
ever was  most  precious  and  valuable.  But  when  he 
was  informed  by  his  scouts,  thatCvrus  was  coming 
close  after  them,  he  entirely  lost  all  courage,  and  all 
thoughts  of  making  a  defence.  The  Armenians,  fol- 
lowing his  example,  ran  away,  every  one  where  he 
could,  to  secure  what  was  de'arest  to  him.  Cyrus, 
seeing  the  country  covered  with  people  that  were 
endeavouring  to  make  their  escape,  sent  them  word, 
that  no  harm  should  be  done  them  if  they  stayed  in 
their  houses:  hut  that  as  many  as  were  taken  running 
away,  should  D*  '-»i>.ted  as  enemies.  This  made  them 
all  retire  to  their  uaoitations,  excepting  a  few  that 
followed  the  king. 

On  the  other  band,  they  that  were  conducting  the 
princesses  to  the  mountains,  tell  into  the  ambush 
Chrysantas  had  laid  for  them,  and  were  most  of  them 
taken  prisoners.  The  queen,  the  king'?  son,  his 
daughters,  his  eldest  son's  wife,  and  his  treasures,  all 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Persians. 

The  king,  hearing  this  melancholy  news,  and  not 
knowing  what  would  become  of  him,  retired  to  a  little 
eminence;  where  he  was  presently  invested  by  the 
Persian  army,  and  soon  obliged  to  surrender.  Cyrus 
ordered  him  with  all  his  family,  to  be  brought  into  the 
midst  of  the  army.  At  the  very  instant  arrived  Ti- 
pranes,  the  king's  eldest  son,  who  was  just  returned 
from  a  journey.  At  so  moving  a  spectacle  he  could 
not  forbear  weeping.  Cyrus,  addressing  himself  to 
him,  said:  Prince,  you  are  come  very  seasonably  to 
be  present  at  the  trial  of  your  father.  And  immedi- 
ately he  asssembled  the  captains  of  the  Persians  and 
Medes;  and  called  in  also  the  great  men  of  Armenia. 
Nor  did  he  so  much  as  exclude  the  ladies  from  this 
assembly,  who  were  then  in  their  chariots,  but  gave 
them  full  liberty  to  hear  and  see  all  that  passed. 

When  all  was  ready,  and  Cyrus  had  commanded 
silence,  he  began  with  requiring  of  the  king,  that  in 
all  the  questions  he  was  going  to  propose  to  him,  he 
would  answer  sincerely,  because  nothing  could  he 
more  unworthy  a  person  of  his  rank  than  to  use  dis- 
simulation or  falsehood.  The  kins:  promised  he  would. 
Then  Cyrus  asked  him,  but  at  different  times,  propo- 
sing each  article  separately  and  in  order,  whether  il 
was  not  true,  that  he  had  made  war  against  Astyages, 
king  of  the  Medes,  his  grandfather:  whether  fie  had 
not  been  overcome  in  that  war,  and  in  consequence  of 
his  defeat  concluded  a  treaty  with  Astyasjes:  whether 
by  virtue  of  that  treaty,  he'was  not  obliged  to  pay  a 
Certain  tribute,  to  furnish  a  certain  number  of  troops, 
and  not  to  keep  any  fortified  place  in  his  country.  It 
was  impossible  for  the  king  to  deny  any  of  these 
furls  which  were  all  public  and  notorious."  For  what 
reason  then,  continued  Cyrus,  have  you  violated  the 
treaty  in  every  article? — For  no  other,  replied  the 
king,  than  because  I  thought  it  a  glorious  thing  to 
shake  ojfthe  yoke,  to  live  free,  and  to  leave  my  child- 
ren in  the  same  condition  — It  is  renlh/  glnrious,  ap- 
swered  Cyrus,  to  fight  in  defence  of  liberty;  hut  if 
any  one,  after  he  is  reduced  to  servitude,  should  at- 
tempt to  run  away  from  his  master,  what  would  you 
do  with  him? — /  must  confess,  says  the  king,  /  would 
punish  htm. — And  if  you  had  given  a  government  to 
ene  of  your  subjects,  and  he  should  be  found  to  have 


conducted  himself  amiss,  would  you  continue  him  in 
his  post? — JVb,  certainly;  I  would  put  another  in  hit 
place. — And  if  he  had  amassed  great  riches  by  hit 
unjust  practices? — I  would  strip  him  of  them. — But 
which  is  still  worse,  if  he  had  held  intelligence  with 
your  enemies,  how  would  you  treat  him? — Though  J 
should  pass  sentence  vpon  myself,  replied  the  king 
I  must  declare  the  truth:  I  would  put  him  to  death. 
At  these  words,  Tigranes  tore  his  tiara  from  his  head, 
and  rent  his  garments.  The  women  burst  out  into 
lamentations  and  outcries,  as  if  sentence  had  actually 
passed  upon  him. 

Cyrus  having  again  commanded  silence,  Tigranea 
addressed  himself  to  the  prince  to  this  effect:  Great 
prince,  can  yon  think  it  consistent  with  your  prudence 
to  put  my  father  to  death,  tven  against  your  own  in- 
terest?— How  against  my  interest?  replied  Cyrus. — 
Because  he  was  never  so  capable  of  doing  you  ser- 
vice.— How  do  you  make  that  appear? — Do  thefaultt 
we  commit  enhance  our  merit,  ajid  give  us  a  new  title 
to  consideration  and  favour? — They  certainly  do, 
provided  they  serve  to  make  us  wiser.  For  of  ines- 
timable value  is  wisdom:  are  either  riches,  courage, 
or  address,  to  be  compared  to  it?  J\'ow  it  is  trident, 
(his  single  day's  experience  has  infinitely  improved 
my  father's  wisdom.  He  knows  how  dear  the  viola- 
tion of  his  word  has  cost  him.  He  has  proved  and 
felt  how  much  you  are  superior  to  him  in  all  respectt. 
He  has  not  been  able  to  succeed  in  any  of  his  designs; 
but  you  have  happily  accomplished  all  yours;  and 
with  that  expedition  and  secrecy,  that  he  has  found 
himself  surrounded,  and  taken,  before  he  expected  to 
be  attacked;  and  the  very  place  of  his  retreat  has  ser 


granes,  when  it  is  so  well  founded  as  this  is,  has  a 
much  sharper  sting,  and  is  more  capable  of  piercing 
the  soul,  than  the  evil  itself.  Besides,  pinrtit  me  to 
say,  that  gratitude  is  a  stronger,  and  more  prevailing 
motive,  than  any  whatever:  and  there  can  be  no  obli- 
gations in  the  world  of  a  higher  nature  than  thost 
you  will  lay  vpon  my  father.  His  fortune,  liberty, 
sceptre,  life,  wives  and  children,  all  restored  to  him 
with  such  a  generosity;  where  can  you  find,  illustri- 
ous prince,  in  one  single  person,  so  many  string  and 
powerful  lies  to  attach  him  to  your  servicel 

Well,  then,  replied  Cyrus,  turning  to  the  king,  if  I 
should  yield  to  your  son's  entreaties,  with  what  num- 
ber of  men,  and  what  sum  of  money,  will  you  assist  us 
in  the  war  against  the  Babylonians? — My  ironpt 
and  treasures,  says  the  Armenian  king,  are  no  longet 
I  mine;  they  are  entirely  yours.  I  can  raise  40,000 
foot,  and  8000  horse;  and  as  to  money,  I  reckon,  that, 
including  the  treasure  which  my  father  left  me,  there 
are  about  3000  talents  ready  money.  All  these  are 
wholly  at  your  disposal.  Cyrus  accepted  half  the 
number  of  the  troops,  and  left  the  king  the  other  half, 
for  the  defence  of  the  country  against  the  Chaldeans,1 
with  whom  he  was  at  war.  The  annual  tribute  which 
was  due  to  the  Medes  he  doubled,  and  instead  of  fifty 
talents  exacted  100,  and  borrowed  the  like  sum  over 
and  above  in  his  own  name.  But  what  would  you 
give  me,  added  Cyrus,  for  the  ransom  of  your  wives? 
— All  that  I  have  in  the  world,  answered  the  king. — 
And  for  the  ransom  of  your  children? — The  same 
thing — From  this  time,  then,you  are  indebted  to  me 
twice  the  value  of  all  your  possessions.  Andyou,  Ti- 
granes, at  what  price  would  you  redeem  the  liberty 
of  your  wife?  Now  he  had  but  lately  married  her 
and  was  passionately  fond  of  her.  At  'the  price,  says 
lie,  of  a  thousand  lives,  if  I  had  them.  Cyrus  then 
conducted  them  all  to  his  tent,  and  entertained  them 
at  supper.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  what  transports  of 
joy  there  must  have  \>ten  upon  this  occasion. 

"After  supper,  as  they  were  discoursing  upon  vari- 
ous subjects,  Cyrus  asked  Tigranes,  what  was  be- 
come of  a  governor  he  had  often  seen  hunting  with 


«  Xenophon  nc»er  calls  the  people  of  Babylonia.  Chalde- 
an* ;  but  Hcrodotu«,  I.  vii.  n.  63,  and  Struho.  I.  xvi.  p.  739. 
ityle  them  so.  The  Chaldeans  meant  in  this  place  we  • 
people  adjoining  to  Armenia. 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


157 


him,  and  for  whom  he  had  a  particular  esteem.  Alas! 
•ays  Tigranes,  he  is  no  more;  and  I  dare  not  tell  you 
by  what  accident  I  lost  him.  Cyrus  pressing  him  to 
tell  him;  My  father,  continued  Tigranes.  seeing  I 
hnd  a  vr.ry  tender  ajfiction  for  this  governor,  and 
that  I  was  extremely  attached  to  him,  conceived  some 
suspicions  against  him,  and  put  him  to  death.  But 
he  was  so  worthy  a  man,  tliat,  as  he  was  ready  to  ex- 
pire, he  sent  for  me,  and  spoke  to  me  in  these  words: 
^Tigranes,  let  not  my  death  occasion  any  disaffection 
in  you  towards  tb.e  king  your  father,  what  he  has 
done  to  me  did  not  proceedfrom  malice,  but  only  from 
prejudice,  and  a  false  notion  wherewith  he  was  un- 
happily blinded.' — O  the  excellent  man!  cried  Cyrus, 
never  forget  the  last  advice  he  gave  you. 

When  the  conversation  was  ended,  Cyrus  before 
they  parted,  embraced  them  all,  in  token  of  a  perfect 
reconciliation.  This  done,  they  got  into  their  chariots, 
tviih  their  wives,  and  went  home  full  of  gratitude  and 
admiration.  Nothing  but  Cyrus  was  mentioned  the 
whole  way;  some  extolling  his  wisdom,  others  his 
valour;  some  admiring  the.  sweetness  of  his  temper, 
others  praising  the  beauty  of  his  person,  and  the  ma- 
jesty of  his  mien.  And  yon,  savs  Tigranes,  address- 
ing himself  to  his  bride,  what  doyoumink  of  Cyrus's 
aspect  and  deportment? — I  did  not  observe  him,  re- 
plied the  ladv. —  Upon  what  object  then  did  yoit  Jix 
your  eyes? — Upon  him  that  said  he  would  give  a  thou- 
land  lives  as  the  ransom  of  my  libtrty. 

The  next  day,  the  king  of  Armenia  sent  presents 
to  Cyrus,  and  refreshments  for  his  whole  army,  and 
brought  him  double  the  sum  of  money  he  was  required 
to  furnish.  But  Cyrus  took  only  what  had  been  stip- 
ulated, and  restored  him  the  rest.  The  Armenian 
troops  were  ordered  to  be  ready  in  three  days'  time, 
and  Tigranes  desired  to  command  them. 

I  have  thought  proper,  for  several  reasons,  to  give 
to  circumstantial  an  account  of  this  affair;  though  I 
have  so  far  abridged  it,  that  it  Is  not  above  a  quarter 
of  what  we  find  in  Xenophon. 

In  the  first  place,  it  may  serve  to  give  the  reader  a 
notion  of  the  style  of  that  excellent  historian,  and  ex- 
cite his  curiosity  to  consult  the  original,  the  natural 
and  unaffected  beauties  of  which  are  sufficient  to  jus- 
tify the  singular  esteem  which  persons  of  good  taste 
have  ever  had  for  the  noble  simplicity  of  that  author. 
To  mention  but  one  instance ;  what  an  idea  of  chastity 
and  modesty,  and  at  the  same  time  what  a  wonderful 
iimplicity,  and  delicacy  of  thought,  are  there  in  the 
answer  of  Tigranes's  wife,  who  nas  no  eyes  but  for 
her  husband! 

In  the  second  place,  those  short,  close,  and  pressing 
interrogatories,  each  of  which  demands  a  direct,  pre- 
cise answer  from  the  king  of  Armenia,  discover  the 
disciple  and  scholar  of  Socrates,  and  show  how  well 
he  retained  the  taste  of  his  master. 

Besides,  this  narrative  will  give  us  some  idea  of  the 
judgment  that  ought  to  be  formed  of  Xenophon'sCy- 
ropsedia;  the  substance  of  which  is  true,  though  it  is 
embellished  with  several  circumstances,  added  by  the 
author,  and  introduced  expressly  to  grace  his  instruc- 
tive lessons,  and  the  rxcellent  rules  he  lays  down  con- 
cerning government.  Thus  much  therefore  in  the 
event  we  are  treating  of  is  real.  The  king  of  Arme- 
nia having  refused  to  pay  the  Medes  the  tribute  he 
owed  them,  Cyrus  attacked  him  suddenly,  and  before 
he  suspected  any  design*  against  him,  made  himself 
master  of  the  only  fortress  he  had,  and  look  his  family 
prisoners;  obliged  him  to  pny  the  usual  tribute,  and 
to  furnish  his  proportion  of  troops;  and  after  all  so 
won  upon  him  by  his  humanity  and  courteous  be- 
haviour, that  he  rendered  him  one  of  the  faithfullest 
and  most  affectionate  allies  the  Medes  ever  had.  The 
rest  is  inserted  only  by  way  of  embellishment,  and  is 
rather  to  be  ascribed  to  the  historian,  than  to  the 
history  itself. 

I  should  never  myself  have  found  out  what  the  story 
of  the  governor's  "being  put  to  death  by  Tignmes's 
father  signified,  though  I  was  very  sensible  it  had  some 
eniirmatical  meaning  in  this  place.  A  person  of  quali- 
ty >ne  of  the  greatest  wits  and  finest  speakers  of  the 


i  M  le  Comte  dc  Treivillei 


last  age,  who  was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  tn« 
Greek  authors,  gave  me  an  explanation  of  it  many 
years  ago,  which  I  have  not  forgotten,  and  which  1 
take  to  be  the  true  meaning  of  that  enigma.  He 
supposed  that  Xenophon  intended  it  as  a  picture  of 
the  death  of  his  master  Socrates,  of  whom  the  state 
of  Athens  became  jealous,  on  account  of  the  extra- 
ordinary attachment  all  the  youth  ol  the  city  had  to 
him;  which  at  last  gave  occasion  to  that  philofopher'* 
condemnation  and  death,  which  he  suffered  without 
murmur  or  complaint. 

In  the  last  place,  I  thought  it  proper  not  to  miss 
this  opportunity  of  pointing  out  such  qualities  in  my 
hero  as  are  not  always  to  be  met  with  in  persons  of 
his  rank;  and  such  as,  by  rendering  them  infinitely 
more  valuable  than  all  their  military  virtues,  would 
most  contribute  to  the  success  of  their  designs.  In 
most  conquerors  we  find  courage,  resolution,  intre- 
pidity, a  capacity  for  martial  exploits,  and  all  such 
talents  as  make  a  noise  in  the  world,  and  are  apt  to 
dazzle  by  their  glare:  but  an  inward  stock  of  good- 
ness, compassion,  and  gentleness  towards  the  unhap- 
py, an  air  of  moderation  and  re.'erve  even  in  prosper- 
ity and  victory,  an  insinuating  and  persuasive  beha- 
viour, the  art  of  gaining  people's  hearts,  and  attach- 
ing them  to  him  more  by  affection  than  interest;  a 
constant,  unalterable  care  always  to  have  right  on  his 
side,  and  to  imprint  such  a  character  of  justice  and 
equity  upon  all  his  conduct,  as  his  very  enemies  are 
forced  to  revere;  and,  lastly,  such  a  clemency,  as  to 
distinguish  those  that  oflend  through  imprudence 
rather  than  malice,  and  to  leave  room  for  their  repent- 
ance, by  giving  them  opportunity  to  return  to  their 
duty,  these  are  qualities  rarely  found  in  the  most  cel- 
ebrated conquerors  of  antiquity,  but  which  shone 
forth  most  conspicuously  in  Cyrus. 

To  return  to  my  subject.  Cyrus,1  before  he  quitted 
the  king  of  Armenia,  was  willing  to  do  him  some 
signal  service.  This  king  was  then  at  war  with  the 
Chaldeans,3  a  neighbouring  warlike  people,  who  con- 
tinually harassed  his  country  by  their  inroads,  and  by 
that  means  hindered  a  great  part  of  his  lands  from 
being  cultivated.  Cyrus,  afttr  having  exactly  in- 
formed himself  of  their  character,  strength,  and  the 
situation  of  their  strong-holds,  marched  against  them. 
On  the  first  intelligence  of  his  approach,  the  Chalde 
ans  possessed  themselves  of  the  eminences  to  which 
they  were  accustomed  to  retreat.  Cyrus  left  them  no 
time  to  assemble  all  their  forces  there,  but  marched  to 
attack  them  directly.  The  Armenians,  whom  he  had 
made  his  advanced  guard,  were  immediately  put  to 
flight.  Cyrus  had  expected  this,  and  had  only  placed 
them  there  to  bring  the  enemy  the  sooner  to  an  en- 
gagement. And  indeed,  when  the  Chaldeans  came 
to  blows  with  the  Persians,  they  were  not  able  to 
stand  their  ground,  but  were  entirely  defeated.  A 
great  number  were  taken  prisoners,  and  the  rest  wer« 
scattered  and  dispersed.  Cyrus  himself  spoke  to  the 
prisoners,  assuring  them  that  he  was  not  come  to  in- 
jure them,  or  ravage  their  country,  but  to  grant  them 
peace  upon  reasonable  terms:  and  he  then  set  them  at 
liberty. 

Deputies  were  immediately  sent  to  him,  and  a  peace 
was  concluded.  For  the  better  security  of  both  na- 
tions, and  with  their  common  consent,  Cyrus  caused 
a  fortress  to  be  built  upon  an  eminence  which  com- 
manded the  whole  country;  and  left  a  strong  garrison 


«  Pvrnp.  1.  iii.  p.  70—76. 

»  [Tfhe  Chaldeans  still  exist  as  a  people  and  a  religion! 
nect  in  the  N.  and  N.W.  of  Mesopotamia,  in  what  is  now 
denominated  the  Pachalick  of  Diarbekir,  the  ancient  Ami- 
da.  Mr.  Kinnicr  in  hi*  route  from  Belli*  to  Mi-rdin  Hop- 
ped at  a  Chaldean  villase  railed  Kiverzo,  where  he  found 
the  lieutenant  of  the  Pasha  employed  in  besieging  (mirabile 
dictu!)  a  chvrth.  belonging  to  the  village  of  Merruri,  inha- 
bited bv  Chaldeans  and  Armenians,  to  the  numbrr  of  I  00. 
It  may  be  pioper  to  observe  that  the  term  Chaldean  is  ap 
plied  to  the  Nestorians.  because  great  numbers  of  thcM 
people  were  converted  to  the  tenets  of  that  sect,  and  be 
cause  the  Syro-Ciialdaic  is  the  language  in  which  iheir 
sacred  book§'ar«  written,  it  being  at  the  commencement  of 
that  heresy  both  the  ipoken  and  written  language  of  th« 
country.] 


15S 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


in  it,  whu'h  wa«  to  declire  against  either  of  the  two 
nations  that  shruld  violate  the  treaty. 

Cyrus,  understanding  that  there  was  a  frequent  in- 
tercourse and  communication  between  the  Indians  and 
Chal,ie;ms,  desired  that  the  latter  wou  d  send  persons 
to  accompany  and  conduct  the  ambassador  whom  he 
was  preparing  to  send  to  the  king  of  India.  The  pur- 
port of  this  embassy  was,  to  desire  some  succours  in 
money  from  that  prince  i;;  behalf  of  Cyrus,  who 
wanted  it  for  the  levying  of  t/oeps  in  Persia,  and  pro- 
mised that,  if  the  gods  crowned  his  designs  with  suc- 
cess, the  king  should  have  no  reason  to  repent  of  hav- 
ing assisted  him.  He  was  glad  to  Snd  the  Chaldeans 
ready  to  second  his  request,  which  they  could  do  the 
more  advantageously,  by  enlarging  upon  the  charac- 
ter and  exploits  of  Cyrus.  The  ambassador  set  out 
the  next  day.  accompanied  by  some  of  the  most  con- 
siderable persons  of  Chaldea,  who  were  directed  to 
act  with  all  the  dexterity  in  their  power,  and  to  do 
Cyrus's  merit  that  justice  which  it  so  well  deserved. 

The  expedition  against  the  Armenians  being  hap- 
pily ended,  Cyrus  left  that  country  to  rejoin  Cyaxares. 
Four  thousand  Chaldeans,  the  bravest  of  the  nation, 
attended  him;  and  the  king  of  Armenia,  who  was 
now  delivered  from  his  enemies,  augmented  the  num- 
ber of  troops  he  had  promised  him:  so  that  he  arrived 
in  M«dia,  with  a  great  deal  of  money,  and  a  much 
more  numerous  army  than  he  had  when  he  left  it. 

SECTION  IV.— THE  EXPEDITION  OF  CYAXARES 
AND  CYRUS  AGAINST  THE  BABYLONIANS.  THE 
FIRST  BATTLE. 

BOTH  parties  had  been  emplpy- 
A.  M.  3448.     ed  three  years  together,  in  forming 
Ant.  J.  C.  556.     their  alliances,  and  making  prepa- 
rations  for   war.1      Cyrus,  finding 
the  troops  full  of  ardour,  and   ready  for  action,  pro- 
posed to  Cyaxares,  to  lead  them  against  the  Assyri- 
ans.    His  reasons  for  it  were,  that  he  thought  it  his 
duty  to  ease  him  as  soon  as  possible,  of  the  care  and 
expense  of  maintaining  two  armies;  that  it  were  bet- 
ter they  should  eat  up  the  enemy's  country,  than  their 
own;  that  so  bold  a  step  as  that  of  going  to  meet  the 
Assyrians,  would  spread  a  terror  in  their  army,  and  at 
the  same  time   inspire    their  own    troops  with    the 

freater  confidence;  that,  lastly,  it  was  a  maxim  with 
im,  as  it  had  always  been  with  Cambyses,  his  father, 
that  victory  did  not  so  much  depend  upon  the  num- 
ber, as  the  valour,  of  troops.    Cyaxares  agreed  to  his 
proposal. 

As  soon  therefore  as  the  customary  sacrifices  were 
offered,  they  began  their  march.  Cyrus  in  the  name, 
of  the  whole  army,  invoked  the  tutelary  gods  of  the 
empire;  beseeching  them  to  be  favourable  to  them  in 
the  expedition  they  had  undertaken,  to  accompany 
them,  conduct  them,  fight  for  them,  inspire  them  with 
such  a  measure  of  courage  and  prudence  as  was  ne- 
cessary, and  in  short,  to  bless  their  arms  with  prospe- 
rity and  success.  In  acting  thus,  Cyrus  put  in  prac- 
tice that  excellent  advice  his  father  had  given  him,  of 
beginning  and  ending  all  his  actions,  and  all  his  enter- 
prises, with  prayer:  and  indeed,  he  never  failed,  either 
before  or  after  an  engagement,  to  acquit  himself  in 
the  presence  of  the  whole  army,  of  this  religious  duty. 
When  they  were  arrived  on  the  frontiers  of  Assyria, 
it  was  still  their  first  care  to  pay  their  homage  to  the 
gods  of  the  country,  and  to  implore  their  protection 
and  succour;  after  which  they  began  to  make  incur- 
•ions  into  the  country,  and  carried  off  a  great  deal  of 
spoil. 

Cyrus,  understanding  that  the  enemy's  army  was 
about  ten  days'  journey  from  them,  prevailed  upon 
Cyaxares  to  advance  against  them.  When  the  armies 
came  within  sight,  both  sides  prepared  for  battle. 
The  Assyrians  were  encamped  in  the  open  country; 
and,  according  to  their  custom,  which  the  Romans 
imitated  afterwards,  had  encompassed  and  fortified 
iheir  camp  with  a  large  ditch.  Cyrus,  on  the  con- 
trary, who  was  glad  to  deprive  the  enemy,  a*  much 
as  possible,  ->f  the  sight  and  knowledge  of  the  smnll- 
DKM  of  his  army  covered  his  troops  with  several  lit- 


tle  hills  and  vilNges.  For  several  days  nothing  w*t 
done  on  either  siu°.,  but  looking  at  and  observing  o*e 
another.  At  length  a  numerous  body  of  the  Assy- 
rians moving  first  out  o*  their  camp,  Cyrus  advanced 
with  his  troops  to  meet  ll.eni.  But  before  they  cam* 
within  reach  of  the  enemy,  he  gave  the  word  tor  ral- 
lying the  men,  which  was,  Jupiter  protector  and  cori- 
aiictor.  He  then  caused  the  usual  hymn  to  be  sound- 
ed, in  honour  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  to  which  the  sol- 
diers, full  of  religious  ardour  (Sino-iB^s,)  answered 
with  a  loud  voice.  There  was  nothing  in  Cyrus's 
army  but  cheerfulness,  emulation,  courage,  mutual  ex- 
hortation to  bravery,  and  a  universal  zeal  to  execute 
whatever  their  leader  should  command.  For  it  it 
observable,  says  the  historian  in  this  place,  that  on 
thete  occasions  those  that  fear  the  Deity  most  are  the 
least  afraid  of  men.  On  the  side  of  the  Assyrians, 
the  troops  armed  with  bows,  slings,  and  dart-:,  made 
their  discharges  before  their  enemies  were  within 
reach.  But  the  Persians,  animated  bv  the  presence 
and  example  of  Cyrus,  came  immediately  to  close  fight 
with  the  enemy,  and  broke  through  their  first  batta- 
lions. The  Assyrians,  notwithstanding  all  the  efforts 
used  by  Croesus  and  their  own  king  to  encourage 
them,  were  not  able  to  sustain  so  rude  a  shock,  but 
immediately  fled.  At  the  same  time  the  cavalry  of  the 
Medes  advanced  to  attack  the  enemy's  horse,  which 
was  likewise  presently  routed.  The  former  warmly 
pursued  them  to  their  very  camp,  made  a  terrible 
slaughter,  and  the  king  of  the  Babylonians  (Neri- 
glissor)  was  killed  in  the  action.  Cyrus  not  thinking 
himself  in  a  condition  to  force  their  intrenchmenU, 
sounded  a  retreat. 


The  Assyrians,2  in  the  mean  time,  thrir  king  being 
killed,  and"^  the  flower  of  their  army  lost,  were  in  a 
dreadful  consternation.  As  soon  as  Crresus  found 
them  in  so  great  a  disorder,  he  fled,3  and  left  them  to 
shift  for  themselves.  The  other  allies  likewise,  seeinz 
their  affairs  in  so  hopeless  a  condition,  thought  of 
nothing  but  taking  advantage  of  the  night  to  make 
their  escape. 

Cyrus,  who  had  foreseen  this,  prepared  to  pursue 
them  closely.  But  this  could  not  be  effected  without 
cavalry;  and,  as  we  have  already  observed,  the  Per- 
sians had  none. 

He  therefore  went  to  Cyaxares,  and  acquainted 
him  with  his  design.  Cyaxares  was  extremely  averse 
to  it,  and  represented  to  him  how  dangerous  it  was 
to  drive  so  powerful  an  enemy  to  extremities,  whom 
despair  would  probably  inspire  with  courage;  that  it 
was  a  part  of  wisdom  to  use  good  fortune  with  n:ode« 
ration,  and  not  to  lose  the  fruits  of  victory  by  too 
much  vivacity;  moreover,  that  he  was  unwilling  to 
compel  the  Medes,  or  to  refuse  them  that  repose  to 
which  their  behaviour  had  justly  entitled  them. 
Cyru«,  upon  this,  desired  his  permission  only  to  take 
as  many  of  the.  horse  as  were  willing  to  follow  him, 
Cyaxares  readily  consented  to  this,  and  thought  of 
nothing  else  now  but  of  passing  his  time  with  his 
officers  in  feasting  and  mirth,  and  enjoying  the  fruiti 
of  the  victory  he  had  just  obtained. 

The  greatest  part  of  the  Median  soldiers  followed 
Cyrus,  who  set  out  upon  his  march  in  pursuit  of  th« 
enemy.  Upon  the  way  he  met  some  couriers,  that 
were  coming  to  him  from  the  Hyrcanians,  who 
served  in  the  enemy's  army,  to  assure  him,  that  as 
soon  as  ever  he  appeared,  those  Hyrcanians  would 
come  over  to  him;  which  in  fact  they  did.  Cyrus 
made  the  best  use  of  his  time,  and  having  marched 
all  night,  came  up  with  the  Assyrians.  Croesus  had 
sent  away  his  wives  in  the  night-time  for  coolness 
(for  it  was  the  summer  season,)  and  followed  them 
himself  with  a  body  of  cavalry.  When  the  Assy 
nans  saw  the  enemy  so  near  them,  they  were  in  th« 
utmost  confusion  and  dismay.  Many  of  those  that 
ran  away,  being  warmly  pursued,  were  killed;  all 
that  stayed  in  the  camp  surrendered;  the  victory  wat, 
complete,  and  the  spoil  immense.  Cyrus  reserved  all 
the  horses  that  were  taken  in  the  camp  for  himself 
resolving  now  to  form  a  body  of  cavalry  for  the.  Per- 
sian hrmy,  which  hitherto  had  none.  The,  richert 


i  Cyrop,  1.  til.  p.W-87. 


•  C)  rop.  lib.  IT.  p.  87—104. 


•  Toid.  1.  vi.  160 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


159 


and  most  valuable  part  of  the  booty  he  set  apart  for 
Cyaxares;  and  as  for  the  prisoners,  he  gave  them  all 
Hbei  tv  to  go  home  to  their  own  country,  without  im- 
posing any  other  condition  upon  them,  than  that  they 
and  thtir'countrymen  should  deliver  up  their  arms, 
and  engage  no  more  in  war;  Cyrus  taking  it  upon 
himsili  to  defend  them  against  their  enemies,  ana  to 
put  them  into  a  condition  of  cultivating  their  lai.ds 
with  entire  security. 

Wliil-t  the  Medes  and  the  Hyrcanians  were  still 
pursuing  the  renmindt,  of  the  enemy,  Cyrus  took 
care  to  have  a  repast,  and  even  baths,  prepared  for 
them,  that  at  their  return  they  might  have  nothing  to  j 
do  but  to  sit  down  and  refresh  themselves.  He  like-  I 
wise  thought  fit  to  defer  the  distribution  of  the  spoil  ! 
till  then.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  this  general, 
whose  thoughts  nothing  escaped,  exhorted  his  Per- 
sian soldiers  to  distinguish  themselves  by  their  gene- 
rosity towards  their  allies,  from  whom  they  had 
already  received  great  sen-ices,  and  of  whom  they 
might  expect  si  ill  greater.  He  desired  they  would 
wait  their  return,  both  for  the  refreshments  and  for 
the  division  of  the  spoil;  and  that  they  would  show 
a  preference  of  their  interest  and  conveniences  before 
their  own ;  giving  them  to  understand,  that  this  would 
be  a  sure  means  of  attaching  the  allies  to  them  for 
ever,  and  of  securing  new  victories  over  the  enemy, 
which  would  procure  them  all  the  advantages  they 
could  wj-ih,  and  make  them  an  ample  amends  for  the 
voluntary  losses  they  might  sustain,  for  the  sake  of 
winning  the  affection  of  the  allies.  They  all  came 
into  his  opinion.  When  the  Medes  and  Hyrcanians 
were  returned  from  pursuing  the  enemy,  Cyrus  made 
them  sit  down  to  the  repast  he  had  prepared  for  them, 
desiring  them  only  to  send  some  bread  to  the  Per- 
sians who  were  sufficiently  provided  (he  said)  with 
el!  they  wanted,  either  for  their  ragouts,  or  their 
drinking.  Hunger  was  theii  only  ragout,  and  water 
from  the  river  their  only  drink :  for  that  was  the  way 
of  living  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed  from 
their  infancy. 

The  next  morning  they  proceeded  to  the  division 
of  the  spoils.  Cyrus  in"  the  first  place  ordered  the 
Magi  to  be  called,  and  commanded  them  to  choose 
out  of  all  the  booty  what  was  most  proper  to  be 
offered  to  the  gods  on  this  occasion.  Then  he  gave 
the  Met'e*  and  Hyrcanians  the  honour  of  dividing  all 
that  remained  amongst  the  whole  army.  They  earn- 
estly desired,  that  the  Persians  might  preside  over 
the'c'istribution;  but  the  Persians  absolutely  refused 
it:  so  they  were  obliged  to  accept  of  the  office,  as 
Cyrix  had  ordered;  and  the  distribution  was  made 
to  the  general  satisfaction  of  all  parties. 

The  very  night  that  Cyrus  marched  to  pursue  the 
enemy,1  Cyaxares  had  passed  in  feasting  and  jolli- 
ty: and  had  made  himself  drank  with  his  principal 
officers.  The  next  morning  when  he  awaked,  he  was 
strangely  surprised  to  find  himself  almost  alone,  and 
without  troops.  Immediately,  full  of  resentment  and 
rage  he  despatched  an  express  to  the  army,  with  or- 
ders to  reproach  Cyrus  severely,  and  to  bring  back 
the  Medes  without  any  delay.  This  unreasonable 
proceeding  did  not  dismay  Cyrus,  who  in  return  wrote 
him  a  respectful  letter:  "m  "which,  however,  with  a 
generous  and  noble  freedom,  he  justified  his  own  con- 
duct, and  put  him  in  mind  of  the  permission  he  had 
given  him,  of  taking  as  many  Medes  with  him  as  were 
willing  to  follow  him.  At  the  same  time,  Cyrus  sent 
into  Persia  lor  an  augmentation  of  his  troops,  design- 
ing to  pu«h  his  conquest  still  farther. 

Amongst  theprisoners  of  war  whom  they  had  taken, 
there  was  a  young  princess  of  most  exquisite  beauty,* 
whom  they  had  reserved  for  Cyrus.  Her  name  was 
Panthea,  the  wife  of  Abradates,  king  of  Su«iana. 
Upon  the  report  made  to  Cyrus  of  her  extraordinary 
beauty,  he  refused  to  see  her;  for  fear  (as  he  said") 
iuch  an  object  might  engage  his  affection  more  than 
be  desired,' and  divert  him  from  the  prosecution  of  the 
groat  designs  he  had  in  view.  This  singular  mode- 
ratior.  in  Cvrus  was  undoubtedly  an  effect  of  the 


Cvrou.  1   iv.  -    104—108. 

I.il  .  r  p.  114.  117  *  ..  ri   p.  153  155. 


excellent  education  he  had  received  :3  for  it  was  • 
principle  among  the  Pi  rsians,  never  to  speak  before 
young  people  of  any  thing  that  had  any  reference  to 
lo'  e,  Itst  their  natural  inclination  to  pfeasure,  which 
is  so  strong  and  violent  at  that  age  of  levity  and  in- 
discretion, should  be  awakened  and  excited  by  such 
discourses,  and  should  hurry  them  into  lollies  and 
debaucheries.  Araspes,  a  j  oung  nobleman  of  Media, 
who  had  the  lady  in  his  custody,  had  not  the  same 
distrust  of  his  own  weakness,  but  pretended  that  a 
man  may  be  always  master  of  himself.  Cj  rus  com- 
mitted the  princess  to  his  care,  and  at  the  "same  time 
gave  him  very  prudent  admonition.  "  I  have  seen  a 
great  many  persons,"  says  he,  "  that  have  thought 
themselves  very  strong,  overcome  by  that  violent  pas- 
.iion.  in  spite  ot  all  their  resolution;  who  have  owned 
iifterwards  with  shame  and  grief,  that  their  passion 
v.-as  a  bondage  and  slavery  from  which  they  had  not 
the  powerto  redeem  themselves:  an  incurable  distem- 
per, out  of  the  reach  of  all  remedies  and  human  ef- 
forts; a  kind  of  bond  or  necessity,4  more  difficult  to 
force  than  the  strongest  chains  of  iron."  "  Fear 
nothing,"  replied  Araspes,  ".I  am  sure  of  myself,  and 
1  v-ill  answer  with  my  life  that  I  shall  do  nothing 
coi  trary  to  my  duty."  Nevertheless,  his  passion  for 
this  young  princess  increased,  and  bv  degrees  grew 
to  such  a  height,  that  finding  her  invincibly  averse  to 
his  desires,  he  was  upon  the  point  of  using  violence 
towiirdsher.  The  princess  at  length  made  Cyrus  ac- 
quainted with  his  conduct,  who  immediately  sent 
Artabazus  to  Araspes,  with  orders  to  admonish  and 
reprove  him  in  his  name.  This  officer  executed  his 
orders  in  the  harshest  manner,  upbraiding  him  with 
his  fault  in  the  most  bitter  terms,  and  with  such  a  ri- 
gorous severity,  as  was  enough  to  throw  him  into 
despair.  Araspes,  struck  to  the  soul  with  grief  and 
anguish,  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears;  and  being  over- 
whelmed with  shame  and  fear,  thinking  himself  un- 
done, remained  silent.  Some  days  afterwards,  Cyrus 
sent  for  him.  He  went  to  the  prince  in  fear  and  trem- 
bling. Cyrus  took  him  aside,  and  instead  of  reproach- 
ing him  with  severity  as  he  expected,  spoke  gently  to 
him,  acknowledging  that  he  h'mself  was  to  blame,  for 
having  imprudently  exposed  him  to  so  formidable  an 
enemy.  By  such  an  unexpected  kindness  the  young 
nobleman  recovered  both  life  and  speech.  But  his 
confusion,  joy,  and  gratitude,  expressed  themselves 
first  in  a  torrent  of  tears.  "  Alas,"  ?ays  he,  "  now  I 
am  come  to  the  knowledge  of  rmself,  and  find  most 
plainly  that  I  have  two  souls;  one,  that  inclines  me  to 
good,  another  that  incites  me  to  evil.  The  former 
prevails,  when  you  speak  to  me,  and  comes  to  my  re 
lief;  when  I  am  alone,  and  left  to  myself,  I  give  way 
to,  and  am  empowered,  by  the  latter."  Araspes  made 
an  advantageous  amends  for  his  fault,  and  rendered 
Cyrus  considerable  service,  by  retiring  among  th« 
Assyrians,  under  the  pretence  of  discontent,  and  by 
giving  intelligence  of  their  measures  and  designs. 

The  loss  of  so  brave  an  officer,5  whom  discontent 
was  supposed  to  have  engaged  on  the  enemy's  side, 
caused  a  great  concern  in  the  whole  army.  Panthea, 
who  had  occasioned  it,  promised  Cvrus  to  supply  his 


place  with  an  officer  or  equal  ment;  she  meant  her 
husband  Abradates.  Accordingly,  upon  her  writing 
to  him,  he  repaired  to  the  camp  of  the  Persians  with 


2000  horse,  and  was  directly  carried  to  Panthea's  tent, 
who  told  him,  with  a  Hood  of  tears,  how  kindly  and 
circumspectly  she  had  been  treated  by  the  generous 
conqueror.  "And  how,''  cried  out  Abradates,  "  shall 
I  be  able  to  acknowledge  so  important  a  service?" 
"  By  behaving  towards  him,"  replied  Panthea,  "as 
he  fiath  done  towards  me."  Whereupon  he  waited 
immediately  upon  Cyrus,  and  grasping  the  hand  of 
his  benefactor:  "  You  see  before  you,"  says  he  to  him, 
"the  tenderest  friend,  the  most  devoted  servant,  and 
the  faithfullest  ally  you  ever  had;  who,  not  being  able 
otherwise  to  acknowledge  your  favours,  comes  and 
devotes  himself  entirely  to  your  service."  Cyrus  re- 
ceived him  with  such  a  noble  and  generous  air,  ao 


•  Cyrop.  I.  i.  p.  34. 

4  Ai'Ji  u'.rsv;  ir%vt  triftt  riri  «r«J-«»  ,1  ll  r<  Hfm  IHttrtt 

•  Cyrop.  1.  »!  p.  155,  156. 


160 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


rompa»iied  by  so  much  tenderness  and  humanity,  as 
fully  convinced  him.  that  whatever  Panthea  had  said 
of  the  wonderful  character  of  that  prince,  was  abund- 
antly short  of  the  truth. 

Two  Assyrian  noblemen,1  likewise,  who  designed, 
as  Cvrus  was  informed,  to  put  themselves  under  his 
protection,  rendered  him  extraordinary  service.  The 
one  was  called  Gobryas,  an  old  man,  venerable  both 
on  account  of  his  age  and  virtue.  The  king  of  As- 
syria, lately  dead,  wno  was  well  acquainted  with  his 
merit,  and  had  a  very  particular  regard  for  him,  had 
resolved  to  give  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  Gobry- 
as's  son,  and  for  that  reason  had  sent  for  him  to 
court.  This  young  nobleman,  at  a  match  of  hunt- 
ing to  which  he  had  been  invited,  happened  to  pierce 
a  wild  beast  with  his  dart,  which  the  king's  son  had 
missed:  the  latter,  who  was  of  a  passionate  and  sa- 
vage nature,  immediately  struck  him  with  his  lance 
through  rage  and  vexation,  and  laid  him  dead  Upon 
the  spot.  Gobryas  besought  Cyrus  to  avenge  so  un- 
fortunate a  father,  and  to  take  his  family  under  his 
protection;  and  the  rather,  because  he  had  no  children 
left  now  but  an  only  daughter,  who  had  long  been 
designed  for  a  wife  to  the  young  king,  but  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  marrying  the  murderer  of  her 
brother. 

This  young  king  wa«  called  La- 

A.  M.  3449.        borosoarchod:  he  reigred  only  nine 
Ant.  J.  C.  555.       months,  and  was  succeeded  by  Na- 
bpnidus  called   also  Labynitus  and 
Belshazzar,  who  reigned  seventeen  years. 

The  other  Assyrian  nobleman  was  called  Gadatas:2 
he  was  prince  of  a  numerous  and  powerful  family. 
The  king  then  reigning  had  treated  him  in  a  very 
cruel  manner,  after  he  came,  to  the  throne;  because 
one  of  his  concubines  had  mentioned  him  as  a  hand- 
some man,  and  spoken  advantageously  of  the  happi- 
ness of  that  woman  whom  he  should  choose  for  a 
wife. 

The  expectation  of  this  double  succour  was  a  strong 
inducement  to  Cyrus,3  and  made  him  determine  to 
penetrate  into  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country.  As 
Babylon  the  capital  city  of  the  empire  he  designed 
to  conquer,  was  the  chief  object  of  his  expedition,  he 
turned  his  views  and  his  march  that  way,  not  to  at- 
tack that  city  immediately  In  form,  but  only  to  take 
a  view  of  it,  and  make  himself  acquainted  w'ith  it:  to 
draw  off  as  many  allies  as  he  could  from  that  prince's 
party,  and  to  make  previous  dispositions  and  prepara- 
tions for  the  siege  he  meditated.  He  set  out  therefore 
with  his  troops,  and  first  marched  to  the  territories  of 
Gobryas.  The  fortress  he  lived  in  seemed  to  be  an 
impregnable  place,  so  advantageously  was  itsit-iated, 
and  so  strongly  fortified  on  all  sides.  This  nobleman 
came  out  to  meet  him,  and  ordered  refreshments  to 
be  brought  for  his  whole  army.  He  then  conducted 
Cyrus  into  his  palace,  and  there  laid  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  silrer  and  golden  cups,  and  other  vessels,  at  his 
feet,  together  with  a  multitude  of  purses,  full  of  the 
rolden  coin  of  the  country:  and  then  sending  for  his 
daughter,  who  was  of  a  majestic,  shape  and  exquisite, 
beauty,  which  the  mourning  habit  she  wore  for  her 
brother's  death  seemed  still  to  enhance,  he  presented 
her  to  Cyrus,  desiring  him  to  take  her  under  his  pro- 
tection, and  to  accept  those  marks  of  his  acknow- 
ledgment, which  he  took  the  liberty  to  offer  him.  "  I 
will  willingly  accept  your  gold  and"  silver,"  says  Cy- 
ru.a.  '•  and  I  make  a  present  of  it  to  your  daughter,  to 
augment  her  portion.  Doubt  not,  but  amongst  the 
nobles  of  my  court,  you  will  find  a  match  suitable  for 
her.  It  will  neither  be  her  riches  nor  yours,  which 
they  will  value.  I  can  assure  you,  there  are  many 
amongst  them,  that  would  make  no  account  of  all  the 
treasures  of  Babylon,  if  they  were  unattended  with 
nierit  and  virtue.  It  is  their  only  glory,  I  dare  affirm 
it  of  them,  as  it  is  mine,  to  approve  themselves  faith- 
ful to  thfir  friends,  formidable  to  their  enemies,  and 
respectful  to  the  prods."  Gobryas  pressed  him  to 
take  a  repast  with  him  in  his  house, but  he  steadfastly 
refused  it,  and  returned  into  his  camp  with  Gobryas. 


i  Cvrop.  I.  !T.  p.  1J1,  113. 
•>•  IbU.I.  T.  p.  123,  124 


•  Ibid  p.  119,  123. 


who  stayed  and  ate  with  him  and  his  officers.  Th» 
ground  and  the  green  turf  that  was  upon  it  were  all 
the  couches  they  had;  and  it  is  to  be  supposed  the 
whole  entertainment  was  suitable.  Gobrvas.who  was 
a  person  of  good  sense,  was  convinced  ho'w  much  that 
noble  simplicity  was  superior  to  his  vain  magnifi- 
cence; and  declared,  that  the  Assyrians  had  the  art 
of  distinguishing  themselves  by  pride,  and  the  Per- 
sians by  merit;  and  above  all  things  he  admired  the 
ingenious  vein  of  humour,  and  the  innocent  cheerful- 
ness that  reigned  throughout  the  whole  entertain- 
ment. 

Cyrus,*  always  intent  upon  his  great  design,  pro- 
ceeded with  Gobryas  towards  the  country  of  Gaciatas, 
which  was  beyond  Babylon.  In  the  neighbourhood 
there  was  a  strong  citadel,  which  commanded  the 
country  of  the  Sacae  and  the  Cadusians,  where  a  go- 
vernor for  the  king  of  Babylon  resided,  to  keep  those 
people  in  awe.  Cyrus  made  a  feint  of  attacking  the 
citadel.  Gadatas,  whose  intelligence  with  the  Per- 
sians was  not  yet  known,  by  Cyrus's  advice,  made 
an  offer  to  the  governor  of  it,  to  join  with  him  in  the 
defence  of  that  important  place.  Accordingly  lie  was 
admitted  with  all  his  troops,  and  immediately  deliver- 
ed it  up  to  Cyrus.  The  possession  of  this  citadel  made 
him  master  of  the  country  of  the  Sacae  and  the  Cadu- 
sians; and  as  he  treated  those  people  with  great  kind- 
ness and  lenity,  they  remained  inviolably  attached  to 
his  service.  The  Cadusians  raised  an  army  of  20,000 
foot  and  4000  horse;  and  the  Sacaj  furnished  10,000 
foot  and  2000  horse-archers. 

The  king  of  Assyria  took  the  field,  in  order  to  pun- 
ish Gadatas  for  his  rebellion.  But  Cyrus  engaged  and 
defeated  him,  making  a  great  slaughter  of  his  troops 
and  obliging  him  to  retreat  to  Babylon.  After  which 
exploit  the  conqueror  employed  sometime  in  ravaging 
the  enemy's  country.  His  kind  treatment  of  the 
prisoners  of  war.  in  giving  them  all  their  liberty  to  go 
home  to  their  habitations,  had  spread  the  fame  of  his 
clemency  wherever  he  came.  Numbers  of  people 
voluntarily  surrendered  to  him,  and  very  much  aug 
mented  his  army.  Then  advancing  near  the  city  of 
Babylon,  he  sent  the  king  of  Assyria  a  challt-nge,  to 
terminate  their  quarrel  by  a  single  combat:  but  his 
challenge  was  not  accepted.  In  order  to  secure  the 
peace  and  tranquillity  of  his  allies  during  his  absence 
he  made  a  kind  of  truce  or  treaty  with  the  king  of 
Assyria,  by  which  it  was  agreed  on  both  sides,  that 
the  husbandmen  should  not  be  molested,  but  should 
have  full  lioerty  to  cultivate  their  lands,  and  reap  the 
fruits  of  their  labour.  Therefore,  after  having  viewed 
the  country,  examined  the  situation  of  Babylon,  ac- 
quired a  considerable  number  of  friends  and  allies 
and  greatly  augmented  his  cavalry,  he  marched  away 
on  his  return  to  Media. 

When  he  came  near  to  the  frontiers,5  he  sfnt  s 
messenger  to  Cyaxares,  to  acquaint  him  with  his  ar- 
rival, and  to  receive  his  commands.  Cyaxares  did 
not  think  proper  to  admit  so  great  an  army  into  his 
country;  and  an  army  that  was  going  to  receive  a 
farther  augmentation  of  40,000  men,  just  arrived  from 
Persia.  He  therefore  set  out  the  next  day  with  what 
cavalry  he  had  left,  to  join  Cyrus;  who  likewise  ad- 
vanced forwards  to  meet  him  with  his  cavalry,  that 
was  very  numerous  and  in  good  condition.  The  sight 
of  these  troops  rekindled  the  jealousy  and  dissatisfac- 
tion of  Cyaxares.  He  received  his  nephew  in  a  very 
coid  manner,  turned  away  his  face  from  him,  to  avoid 
receiving  his  salute,  and  even  wept  through  vexation. 
Cyrus  commanded  all  the  company  to  retire,  and  en- 
tered into  an  explanation  with  hi,s  uncle.  He  spoke 
to  him  with  so  much  temper,  submission  and  reason  i 
gave  him  such  strong  proofs  of  the  rectitude  of  his « 
heart,  his  respect,  and  inviolable  attarhmrnt  to  his 
person  and  interest,  that  in  a  moment  he  dispelled  all 
nis  suspicions,  and  perfectly  recovered  his  favour  and 
good  opinion.  They  embraced  one  another,  and 
tears  were  shed  on  both  sides.  How  great  the  joy 
of  the  Persians  and  Medes  was,  who  waited  the  event 
of  this  interview  with  anxiety  and  trembling,  is  not  to 
be  expressed.  Cyaxares  anu  Cyrus  immediately  re 


«  Cyrop.  L.  T.  p.  '24— 140. 


•  Ibid.  p.  141—147. 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


161 


tfcd  their  horses;  aid  then  all  the  Medes  ranged 
themselvei  in  the  train  of  Cyaxares,  according  to  the 
sign  given  them  by  Cyrus.  The  Persians  followed 
Cyrus,  and  the  men  of  earh  other  nation  their  par- 
ticular prince.  When  they  arrived  at  the  camp,  they 
conducted  Cyaxares  to  the  tent  prepared  for  him.  He 
*vas  presently  visited  by  almost  all  the  Medes,  who 
,ame  to  salute  him,  and  to  bring  him  presents;  some 
>{  their  own  accord,  and  others  by  Cyrus's  direction. 
Cyaxares  was  extremely  touched  at  this  proceeding, 
and  began  to  find,  that  Cvrus  had  not  corrupted  his 
subjects,  and  that  the  Medes  had  the  same  affection 
for  him  as  before. 

Such  was  the  success  of  Cyrus's  first  expedition 
against  Croesus  and  the  Babylonians.'  In  the  conn- 
til,  held  the  next  day  in  the  presence  of  Cyaxares 
«uid  all  the  officers,  it  was  resolved  to  continue  the 
war. 

Not  finding  in  Xenophon  any  date  that  precisely 
fixes  the  year  wherein  the  several  events  he  relates 
happened",  I  suppose  with  Usher,  though  Xenophon's 
relation  does  not  seem  to  favour  this  notion,  that 
between  the  two  battles  against  Croesus  and  the 
Babylonians,  several  years  passed,  during  which  all 
neces*ary  preparations  were  made  on  both  sides  for 
carrying  on  the  important  war  which  was  begun;  and 
within  this  interval  I  place  the  marriage  of  Cyrus. 

Cyrus,2  then,  about  this  time  thought  of  making  a 
tour  into  his  own  country,  about  six  or  seven  years 
after  he  had  left  it,  at  the  head  of  the  Persian  army. 
Cyaxares,  on  this  occasion,  gave  him  a  signal  tes- 
timonv  of  the  value  he  had  for  his  merit.  Having  no 
mule  i>iiie,  and  but  one  daughter,  he  offered  her  in 
marriage  to  Cyrus,  with  an  assurance  of  the  kingdom 
of  Media  for  her  portion.  Cyrus  had  a  grateful  sense 
of  this  advantageous  offer,  and  expressed  the  wannest 
acknowledgments  of  it:  but  thought  himself  not  at 
liberty  to  accept  it,  till  he  had  gained  the  consent  of 
his  father  and  mother;  leaving  therein  a  rare  example 
to  ;ill  future  ages,  of  the  respectful  submission  and 
entire  dependence  which  all  children  ought  to  show 
to  their  parents  on  the  like  occasion,  of  what  age  so- 
evtr  they  be,  or  to  whatever  degree  of  power  and 
greatness  they  may  have  arrived.  Cyrus  married  this 
princess  on  his  return  from  Persia. 

When  the  marriage  solemnity  was  over,  Cvrus 
returned  to  his  camp,  and  improved  the  time  he  had 
to  spare  in  securing  his  new  conquests,  and  taking  all 
proper  measures  with  his  allies  for  accomplishing  the 
great  design  he  had  formed. 

Foreseeing  (says  Xenophon)  that  the  preparations 
for  war  might  take  up  a  great  deal  of  time,8  he  pitched 
hi«  camp  in  a  very  convenient  and  healthy  place,  and 
fortified  it  strongly.  He  there  kept  his  troops  to  the 
game  discipline  and  exercise,  as  if  the  enemy  had  been 
always  in  sight. 

They  understood  by  deserters,  and  by  the  prison- 
ers brought  every  day  into  tne  camp,  that  the  king  of 
Babvlon  was  gone  into  Lydia,  and  had  carried  with 
him  va<t  sums  of  gold  and  silver.  The  common 
soldiers  immediately  concluded  that  it  was  fear  which 
made  him  remove  his  treasures.  But  Cyrus  judged 
he  had  undertaken  this  journey  only  to  raise  up  some 
new  enemy  asrainst  him;  and  therefore  he  laboured 
with  indefatigable  application  in  preparing  for  a  se- 
cond battle. 

Above  all  things  he  applied  himself  to  strengthen 
his  Persian  cavalry,  and  to  have  a  great  number  of 
chariots  of  war,  built  after  a  now  form,  having  found 
great  inconveniences  in  the  old  ones,  the  fashion  of 
which  came  from  Troy,  and  had  continued  in  use  till 
that  time  throughout  all  Asia. 

*n  this  interval,  ambassadors  arrived  from  the  king 
of  India,4  with  a  large  sum  of  money  for  Cyrus,  from 
the  king  their  master,  who  had  also  ordered  them  to 
assure  him,  that  he  was  very  gl.td  he  had  acquainted 
him  with  what  he  wanted  :  tfiat  he  was  willing  to  be  his 
friend  and  ally;  and  if  he  still  wanted  more  money, 
he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  let  him  know;  and  that, 
in  short,  he  had  ordered  his  ambassadors  to  pay  him 


«  Oyrop.  I.  ».  p.  148—151. 
«  Ih'iil.  1.  vi.  p.  151. 

v    ,    r        >i 


•     IIMIl.    I.    VI. 

VOL  I.-21 


*  Ibid.  I.  Tiii.  p.  298,  229 
«  Ibid.  p.  156,  147. 


the  same  absolute  obedience  as  to  himself.  Cyrm 
received  these  obliging  offers  with  all  possible  dignity 
and  gratitude.  He  treated  the  ambassadors  with  the 
utmost  regard,  and  made  them  noble  presents;  ainl 
taking  advantage  of  their  good  disposition,  desired 
them  to  depute  three  of  their  own  body  to  the  enemy, 
as  envoys  from  the  king  of  India,  on  pretence  of  pro- 
posing an  alliance  with  the  king  of  Assyria,  but  in 
fact  to  discover  his  designs,  and  give  Cyrus  an  account 
of  them.  The  Indians  undertook  this  employment 
with  joy,  and  acquitted  themselves  of  it  with  great 
ability. " 

I  do  not  recognize  in  this  last  circumstance  the  up- 
right conduct  and  usual  sincerity  of  Cyrus.  Could 
he  be  ignorant  that  it  was  an  open  violation  of  the 
law  of  nations,  to  send  spies  to  an  enemy's  court 
under  the  title  of  ambassadors;  which  is  a  character 
that  will  not  suffer  those  invested  with  it  to  act  so 
mean  a  part,  or  to  be  guilty  of  such  treachery? 

Cyrus  prepared  for  the  approaching  battle,5  like  a 
man  who  had  nothing  but  great  projects  in  view.  He 
not  only  took  care  of  every  thing  that  had  been  re- 
solved in  council,  but  took  pleasure  in  exciting  a  noble 
emulation  amongst  his  officers,  who  should  have  the 
finest  arms,  be  the  best  mounted,  fling  a  dait,  or 
shoot  an  arrow,  the  most  dexterously,  or  who  should 
undergo  toil  and  fatigue  with  the  greatest  patience. 
This  he  brought  about  by  taking  them  along  with  him 
a  hunting,  and  by  constantly  rewarding  those  that 
distinguished  themselves  most.  Wherever  he  per- 
ceived that  the  captains  took  particular  car's  of  the:r 
ni-en,  he  praised  them  publicly,  and  showed  them  all 
possible  favour  in  order  to  encourage  them.  \Vhen 
he  made  them  any  feast,  he  never  proposed  any  other 
diversions  than  military  exercises,  and  always  gave 
considerable  prizes  to  tne  conquerors,  by  which  means 
he  excited  a  surprising  ardour  throughout  bis  whole 
army.  In  a  word,  he  was  a  general  who,  in  repose 
as  vveii  as  action,  nay,  even  in  his  pleasures,  his  con- 
versations, and  walks,  had  his  thoughts  entirely  bent 
en  promoting  the  good  of  the  service.  It  is  by  such 
methods  a  man  becomes  an  able  and  complete  war- 
rior. 

In  the  mean  time,6  the  Indian  ambassadors  being 
returned  from  the  enemy's  camp  brought  word,  that 
Croesus  was  chosen  generalissirr.o  of  their  army;  that 
all  the  kings  and  princes  in  their  alliance  had  agreed 
to  furnish  the  necessary  sums  of  money  for  raising  the 
troops;  that  the  Thracians  had  already  engaged 
themselves:  that  from  Egypt  a  great  reinforcement 
was  marching,  consisting  of  120,000  men;  that  ano- 
ther army  was  expected  from  Cyprus;  that  the  Cili- 
cians,  the  people  of  the  two  Phrygias  the  Lycaonians, 
Paphlagonians,  Cappadocians,  Arabians,  and  Phoeni- 
cians, were  already  arrived;  that  the  Assyrians  were 
likewise  come  up  together  with  the  king  of  Babylon; 
that  the  lonians,  £tolians,  and  most  part  of  the  Greeks 
living  in  Asia,  had  been  obliged  to  join  them;  that 
Croesus  had  likewise  sent  to  the  Laceda?monians,  to 
bring  them  into  a  treaty  of  alliance;  that  the  army 
was  assembled  near  the  river  Pactolus  from  whence  it 
was  to  advance  to  Thymbra,  which  was  the  place  of 
rendezvous  for  all  the  troops.  This  relation  was  con- 
firmed by  the  accounts  brought  in  both  by  the  prison- 
ers and  the  spies. 

Cyrus's  army  was  discouraged  by  this  news.7  But 
that  prince  having  assembled  his  officers,  and  repre- 
sented to  them  the  infinite  difference  between  the 
enemy's  troops  and  theirs,  soon  dispelled  their  fean 
and  revived  their  courage. 

Cyrus  had  taken  all  proper  measures  *  that  his  army 
should  be  provided  with  all  necessaries;  and  had 
given  orders,  as  well  for  their  march,  ns  for  the  battle 
he  was  preparing  to  give;  in  the  doing  of  which  he 
descended  to  an  astonishing  detail,  which  Xenophon 
relates  at  length,  and  which  reached  from  the  chief 
commanders  down  to  the  very  lowest  subaltern  offi- 
cers; for  he  knew  evry  well  that  upon  such  precau- 
tions the  success  of  enterpriser  depends,  which  often 
miscarry  through  the  neglect  of  the  smallest  circnm- 


•  Cjrrup.  1.  ri.  p.  157. 

•  Ibid.  p.  T39. 


o  2 


•  Ibid.  p.  15?. 

•  Ibid.  p.  •*" 


1G2 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


stances:  in  the  sane  manner,  as  it  frequently  happens, 
that  tne  playing  or  movement  of  the  greatest  machines 
i*  stopped  through  the  disorder  of  one  single  wheel, 
though  never  so  small. 

Tliis  prince  knew  s.11  the  officers  of  his  army  by 
their  names;1  and  making  use  of  a  low  but  significant 
comparison,  he  used  to  say,  "he  thought  it  strange 
that  a  workman  should  know  the  names  of  all  his 
tools,  and  a  general  should  be  so  indifferent,  as  not  to 
know  the  names  of  all  his  captains,  which  are  the  in- 
struments he  must  make  use  of  in  all  his  enterprises 
and  operations."  Besides,  he  was  persuaded,  that 
such  an  attention  had  something  in  it  more  honour- 
able lor  the  officers,  more  engaging,  and  more  proper 
io  excite  them  to  do  their  duly,  as  it  naturally  leads 
them  to  believe  they  are  both  known  and  esteemed 
by  their  general. 

When  all  the  preparations  were  finished,2  Cyrus 
took  leave  of  Cyaxares,  who  stayed  in  Media  with  a 
third  part  of  his  troops,  that  the  country  might  not  be 
left  entirely  defenceless. 

Cyrus,  who  well  knew  how  advantageous  it  is 
always  to  make  the  enemy's  country  the  seat  of  war, 
did  not  wait  for  the  Babylonians  coming  to  attack  him 
in  Media,  but  marched  forwards  to  attack  them  in 
their  own  territories,  that  he  might  both  consume  their 
forage  by  his  troops,  and  disconcert  their  measures 
by  his  expedition  and  the  boldness  of  his  undertaking. 
After  a  very  long  march  he  came  up  with  the  enemy 
at  Thymbra,8a  city  «f  Lydia,  not  far  from  Sardis,  the 
capital  of  the  country.  They  did  not  imagine  that 
this  prince,  with  half  the  number  of  forces  they  had, 
could  think  of  coming  to  attack  them  in  their  own 
country :  and  they  were  strangely  surprised  to  see 
him  come,  before  they  had  time  to  lay  up  the  provi- 
sions necessary  for  the  subsistence  of  their  numerous 
army,  or  to  assemble  all  the  forces  they  intended  to 
bring  into  the  field  against  him. 

SECTION    V. — THE   BATTLE   OF  THYMBRA,  BE- 
TWEEN CYRUS   AND  CRtESUS. 

THIS  battle  is  one  of  the  most  considerable  events 
in  antiquity,  since  it  decided  upon  the  empire  of  Asia 
between  the  Assyrians  of  Babylon  and  the  Persians. 
It  was  this  consideration  that  inducted  M.  Freret*one 
of  my  brethren  in  the  Academy  of  Belles  Lettres,  to 
examine  it  with  a  particular  care  and  exactness:  and 
the  rather,  because,  as  he  observes,  it  is  the  first 
pitched  battle,  of  which  we  have  any  full  or  particu- 
lar account.  I  have  assumed  the  privilege  of  making 
use  of  the  labours  and  learning  of  other  persons,  but 
without  robbing  them  of  the  glory,  as  also  without 
denying  myself  the  liberty  of  making  such  alterations 
as  I  judge  necessary.  I  shall  give  a  more  ample  and 
particular  description  of  this  battle  than  I  usually  do 
of  such  matters,  because,  as  Cyrus  is  looked  upon  as 
one  of  the  greatest  captains  of  antiquity,  those  of  the 
military  profession  may  be  glad  to  trace  him  in  all 
his  steps  through  this  important  action;  moreover,  the 
manner  in  which  the  ancients  made  war,  and  fought 
battles,  forms  an  essential  part  of  their  history. 

In  Cyrus's  army  the  companies  of  foot  consisted  of 
100  men  each,  exclusively  of  the  captain.5  Each  com- 
pany was  subdivided  into  four  platoons,  which  con- 
sisted of  four  and  twenty  men  each,  not  including  the 
person  that  commanded.  Each  of  these  divisions  was 
agaiii  subdivided  into  two  files,  consisting  of  twelve 
wen.  Every  ten  companies  had  a  particular  superior 

»  Cyrop.  1  ».  p.  131.  132.  •  Ibid.  1.  vi.  p.  160,  161. 

*  fThymbra  here  mentioned,    is   properly  placed  by  our 
author  not  far  from  Sardis,  and   to  the  east  of  that  place  in 
the  j;rem  plain  that   expands   between  Mount  Tmolu!  and 
the  Hi'rmus  or  Sarabat  river,  and  which  appear*  to  be  the 
Cyrus  Campus  of  Slrabo,  p.  C20.     Many  tumuli,  or  mounds, 
•re  now  found  there.  Thymbra  must  not  be  confounded  wi'h 
Thymbrium,  a  populous  city  mentioned  in  the  march  of  ihe 
ynun«er  Cyrus,  from  Sardis  toCunaxa,  and  which  has  been 
mistaken  by  D'Anville  for  the  Thvmbra  in  the  text.    Thym- 
brtum  lay  not  »cry  far  to  the  N.  W.  of  Iconium,  and  it  gup- 
pnoud  by  Kinnier  to  have  occupied  the  site  of  the  modern 
Ak-Shehr,  or  the  White  City.] 

«  Vol.  vi.  of  the  Memoiri  oi'tbe  Academ)  of  Belles  Lettrei, 
p  5M. 

•  Cyrop.  1.  ri.  p.  167 


officer  to  command  them,  which  sufficiently  answers 
to  what  we  call  a  colonel;  and  ten  of  those  bodies 
had  again  another  superior  commander,  which  we 
may  call  a  brigadier. 

I  have  already  observed,6  that  Cyrus,  when  he  first 
came  at  the  head  of  the  30,000  Persians,  to  the  aid  of 
his  uncle  Cyaxarea,  made  a  considerable  change  in 
the  arms  of  his  troops.  Two-thirds  of  them  till  then 
made  use  of  javelins  only,  or  bows,  and  consequently 
could  only  fight  at  a  distance  from  the  enemy.  In- 
stead of  these,  Cyrus  armed  the  greatest  part  of  them 
with  cuirasses,  bucklers,  and  swords,  or  battle-axes 
and  left  few  of  his  soldiers  light-armed. 

The  Persians  did  not  know  at  that  time  what  it  was 
to  fight  on  horseback.7  Cyrus,  who  was  convinced 
that  nothing  was  of  so  great  importance  towards  the 
gaining  of  a  battle  as  cavalry,  was  sensible  of  the  great 
inconvenience  he  laboured  under  in  that  respect,  and 
therefore  took  wise  and  early  precautions  to  remedy 
that  evil.  He  succeeded  in  his  design,  and  by  little 
and  little  formed  a  body  of  the  Persian  cavalry,  \\hicb 
amounted  to  10,000  men,  and  were  the  best  troops 
of  his  army. 

I  shall  speak  elsewhere  of  the  other  change  he  in- 
troduced, with  respect  to  the  chariots  of  war.  It  if 
now  time  for  us  to  give  the  number  of  the  troops  oi 
both  armies,  which  cannot  be  fixed  but  by  conjecture, 
and  by  putting  together  several  scattered  passages  oi 
Xenophon,  that  author  having  omitted  the  materia 
circumstance  of  acquainting  us  precisely  with  theii 
numbers;  which  appears  surprising  in  a  man  so  ex- 
pert in  military  aflairs  as  that  historian  was. 

Cyrus's  army  amounted  in  the  whole  to  196,000 
men,  horse  and  foot.  Of  these  there  were  70,000  na- 
tive Persians,  viz.  10.000  cuirassiers  of  horse,  20,000 
cuirassiers  of  foot,  20.000  pikemen.  and  20,000  light 
armed  soldiers.  .The  rest  of  the  army  to  the  number 
of  126,000  men,  consisted  of  26.000  Median,  Anne- 
nian,  and  Arabian  horse,  and  100,000  foot  of  the  same 
nation. 

Besides  these  troops.8  Cyrus  had  300  chariots  of 
war,  armed  with  scythes,  each  chariot  drawn  by  four 
horses  abreast,  covered  with  trappings  that  were  ar- 
row-proof; as  were  also  the  horses  of  the  Persian 
cuirassiers. 

He  had  likewise  ordered  a  great  number  of  chariots 
to  be  made  of  a  larger  size,9  upon  each  of  wbicfa  was 
placed  a  tower,  of  about  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  high, 
in  which  were  lodged  twenty  archers.  Each  chariot 
was  drawn  upon  wheels  by  sixteen  oxen  yoked 
abreast. 

There  was  moreover  a  considerable  number  of  ca- 
mels,10 upon  each  of  which  were  two  Arabian  archers, 
back  to  back;  so  that  one  looked  towards  the  head 
and  the  other  towards  the  tail  of  the  camel. 

Cro?sus's  army  was  above  twice  as  numerous  as 
that  of  Cyrus,"  amounting  in  all  to  420,000  men,  of 
which  60*,000  were,  cavalry.  The  troops  consisted 
chiefly  of  Babylonians,  Lydians,  Phrygians,  Cappa* 
docians,  of  the  nations  about  the  Htllespont,  and  of 
Egyptians,  to  the  number  of  360,000  men.  The 
Egyptians  alone  made  a  body  of  120,000.  They  had 
bucklers,  that  covered  them  from  head  to  foot,  very 
long  pikes,  and  short  swords,  but  very  broad.  The 
rest  of  the  army  was  made  upof  Phoenicians,  Cyprians, 
Cilicians,  Lycaonians,  Paphlagonians,  Thracians,  and 
lonians. 

Croesus's  army  was  ranged  in  order  of  battle  in  one 
line,'*  the  infantry  in  the  centre,  and  the  cavalry  on 
the  two  wings.  All  his  troops,  both  foot  and  horse, 
were  thirty  men  deep;  but  the  Egyptians,  w^tio,  as 
we  have  taken  notice,  were  120,000  in  number,  and 
who  were  the  principal  strength  of  Croesus's  infantry, 
in  the  centre  of  which  they  were  posted,  were  divided 
into  twelve  large  bodies,  or  square  battalions,  of 
10,000  men  each,  which  had  100  men  in  the  front 
and  as  many  in  dept'n,  witn  an  interval  oetween  eveij 


•  Cyrop.  1.  ii.  p.  39.  40. 

t  Ibid.  I.  iv.  p.  99,  100.  and  1.  T.  p.  13& 

•  Ibid.  I.  vi.  p.  152.  153  157  •  Ibid.  p.  156. 
"   Ibid.  p.  153.  153.  >  Ibid.  «.  15* 
i»  Ibid  «    V* 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


1G3 


l'un.  that  they  might  act  and  fight  independent 
jf,  a:'u  without  interfering  with,  one  another.  Crotsus 
would  gkuily  have  persuaded  them  to  range  them- 
selves in  less  depth,  that  they  might  make  the  wider 
front.  The  armies  were  in  an  immense  plain,  which 
gave  room  Ibr  the  extending  of  their  wings  to  right 
and  left:  and  the  design  of  Croesus,  upon  which  alone 
he  founded  his  hopes  of  victory,  was  to  surround  and 
hem  in  the  enemy's  army.  But  he  could  not  prevail 
upon  the  Egyptians  to  change  the  order  of  battle  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed.  His  army,  as  it 
was  thus  drawn  out  into  one  line,  took  up  near  forty 
•tadia,  or  five  miles  in  length. 

Araspes,  «ho  under  the  pretence  of  discontent  had 
retired  to  Croesus's  army,  and  had  had  particular  or- 
ders from  Cyrus  to  observe  well  the  manner  of  that 
fciiera]  s  ranging  his  troops,  returned  to  the  Persian 
camp  the  day  before  the  battle.  Cyrus,  in  drawing 
•  p  his  army,  governed  himself  by  the  disposition  of 
the  enemy,  of  wiiich  that  young  Median  nobleman 
had  given  him  an  exact  account. 

The  Persian  troops  had  been  generally  used  to 
engage  four-ancl-twentv  men  in  depth,1  but  Cyrus 
thought  tit  to  change  that  disposition.  It  was  neces- 
sary lor  him  to  form  as  wide  a  front  as  possible,  w  ith- 
oul  too  much  weakening  his  battalions,  to  prevent  his 
army's  being  inclosed  and  hemmed  in.  His  infantry 
was  excellent,  and  most  advantageously  armed  with 
cuirassts,  partisans,  battle-axes,  and  swords;  and  pro- 
vided they  could  join  the  enemy  in  close  fight,  there 
was  little  reason  to  believe  that  the  Lydian  battalions, 
that  were  armed  onlv  with  light  bucklers  and  javelins, 
could  support  the  charge.  Cyrus  therefore  thinned 
the  files  of  his  infantry  one  hall,  and  ranged  them  only 
twelve  men  deep.  The  cavalrv  WHS  drawn  out  on  the 
two  wings,  the  right  commanded  by  Chrysantas,  and 
the-  kit  by  H\sta*pis.  The  whole  front  of  the  army 
lock  up  but  thirty-two  stadia,  or  four  miles  in  extent; 
and  consequently  was  at  each  end  near  four  stadia, 
or  half  a  mile  short  of  the  enemy's  front. 

Behind  the  first  line,  at  a  little  distance,  Cyrus, 
placed  the  spearmen,  and  behind  them  the  archers. 
Both  the  one  and  the  other  were  covered  by  soldiers 
in  their  front,  over  whose  head  they  could  fling  their 
javtlins  and  shoot  their  arrows  at  the  enemy. 

Behind  all  these  he  formed  another  line,  to  serve 
for  the  rear,  which  consisted  of  the  flower  of  his  army. 
Their  business  was  to  have  their  eyes  upon  those  that 
were  placed  before  them,  to  encourage  those  that  did 
their  duly,  to  sustain  and  threaten  those  that  gave 
way,  and  even  to  kill  those  as  traitors  that  fled;  by 
that  means  to  keep  the  cowards  in  awe,  and  make 
them  have  as  great  a  terror  of  the  troop*  in  the  rear, 
as  they  could  possibly  have  of  the  enemy. 

Behind  the  armv  were  placed  those  moving  towers 
which  1  have  already  described.  These  formed  a  line 
equal  and  parallel  to  that  of  the  army,  and  did  not 
onlv  serve  to  annoy  the  enemy  by  the  perpetual  dis- 
charges of  the  archers  that  were  in  them,  but  might 
likewise  be  looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  moveable  forts, 
or  redoubts,  under  which  the  Persian  troops  might 
rally,  in  case  they  were  broken  and  pushed  by  the 
em  inv. 

Just  behind  these  towers  were  two  other  lines, 
which  also  were  parallel  and  equal  to  the  front  of  the 
army ;  the  one  was  formed  of  the  baggage,  and  the 
other  of  the  chariots  which  carried  ttie  women,  and 
•uch  other  persons  as  were  unfit  for  service. 

To  close  all  these  lines.1  and  to  secure  them  from 
the  insults  of  the  enemy,  Cyrus  placed  in  the  rear  of 
•II  2000  infantry,  2000  horse,  and  the  troop  of  camels, 
which  was  pretty  numerous. 

Cyrus's  design  in  forming  two  lines  of  the  baggage, 
&c.  was  not  only  to  make  his  army  ajipear  more  nu- 
merous than  it  really  was,  but  likewise  to  oblige  the 
enemv,  in  case  they  were  resolved  to  surround  him, 
u  he  knew  they  intended  to  make  the  longer  circuit, 
and  consequently  to  weaken  their  line,  by  stretching 
it  out  so  far. 

\\'e  have  still  the  Persian  chariots  of  war  armed 
with  scythes  to  speak  of.  These  were  divided  into 


i  Cjrup.  1.  vi.  p.  167.  •  Ibid.  p.  168. 


three  bodies,  of  100  each.  One  of  these  bodies,  com- 
manded by  Abradates,  king  of  Susiana,  was  placed  >• 
the  front  of  the  battle,  and  the  other  two  upon  the 
two  flanks  of  the  army. 

Such  was  the  order  of  battle  in  the  two  armies  ai 
they  were  drawn  out  and  disposed  the  day  before  the 
engagement. 

The  next  day,  very  early  in  the  morning,'  Cyrus 
made  a  sacrifice,  during  which  time  his  army  took  • 
little  refreshment;  and  the  soldiers  after  having  of- 
fered their  libations  to  the  gods,  put  on  their  armour. 
IS" ever  was  sight  more  beautiful  and  magnificent! 
coat-armours,  cuirasses,  bucklers,  helmets,  one  couW 
not  tell  which  to  admire  most:  men  and  horses  ai 
finely  equipped,  and  glittering  in  brass  and  scarlet. 

When  Abradatej  was  just  going  to  put  on  his 
cuirass,4  which  was  only  of  quilted  linen,  according 
to  the  fashion  of  his  country,  his  wife,  Panthea,  came 
and  presented  him  with  a  helmet,  bracers,  and  brace- 
lets, all  of  gold,  with  a  coat-armour  of  his  own  length, 
plaited  at  the  bottom,  and  with  a  purple-coloured 
plume  of  feathers.  She  had  got  all  this  armour  pre- 
pared without  her  husband's  knowledge,  that  her 
present  might  be  more  agreeable  from  surprise.  In 
spite  of  all  her  endeavours  to  the  contrary,  when  she 
dressed  him  in  this  armour,  she  could  not  refrain  from 
shedding  tears.  But  notwithstanding  her  tenderness 
for  him,  she  exhorted  him  to  die  with  sword  in  hand, 
rather  than  not  signalize  himself  in  a  manner  suitable 
to  his  birth,  and  the  idea  she  had  endeavoured  to  give 
Cyrus  of  his  gallantry  and  worth.  "Our obligations," 
says  she,  "to  that  prince  are  infinitely  great.  1  was 
his  prisoner,  and  as  such  was  destined  for  him;  but 
when  I  came  into  his  hands,  1  was  neither  used  like  a 
captive,  nor  had  any  dishonourable  conditions  impo- 
sed on  me  for  my  freedom.  He  treated  me  as  if  I 
had  been  his  own  brother  s  wife;  and  in  return  I  as- 
sured him  you  would  be  capable  of  acknowledging 
such  extraordinary  goodness."  "  O  Jupiter!"  cried 
Abradates,  lilting  up  his  eyes  towards  heaven,  "grant 
that  on  this  occasion  I  may  approve  myself  a  husband 
worthy  of  Panthea,  and  a  friend  worth'y  of  so  gener- 
ous a  benefactor!''  Having  said  this,  he  mounted  his 
chariot.  Panthea,  not  being  able  to  embrace  him  any 
longer,  kissed  the  chariot  he  rode  in;  and  when  she 
had  pursued  him  with  her  eyes  as  far  as  she  possibly 
could,  she  retired. 

As  soon  as  Cvrus  had  finished  his  sacrifice,5  given 
his  officers  the  necessary  orders  and  instructions  for 
the  battle,  and  put  them  in  mind  of  paying  the  ho- 
mage that  is  due  to  the  gods,  every  nian  went  to  his 
post.  Some  of  his  officers  brought  him  wine  and 
victuals:6  he  ate  a  little  without  sitting  down,  and 
caused  the  rest  to  be  distributed  amongst  those  that 
were  about  him.  He  took  a  little  wine  likewise; 
and  poured  out  a  part  of  it, as  an  offering  to  the  gods, 
before  he  drank;  and  all  the  company  followed  his 
example.  After  this  he  prayed  again  to  the  god  of 
his  fathers,  desiring  he  would  please  to  be  his  guide, 
and  come  to  his  assistance;  he  then  mounted  his 
horse,  and  commanded  them  all  to  follow  him. 

As  he  was  considering  on  which  side  he  should  di- 
rect his  march,  he  heard  a  clap  of  thunder  on  the 
right,  and  cried  out.  Sovereign  Jtrpiler,  we  follow 
thee.i  And  at  that  instant  he  set  forwards,  having 
Chrysantas  on  his  right,  who  '•onunanded  the  right 
wing  of  the  horse,  and  Ananias  on  his  left,  who  com- 
manded the  foot.  He  warned  them  above  all  things 
to  pay  attention  to  ihe  royal  standard,  and  to  advance 
e<|uafly  in  a  line.  The  standard  was  a  golden  eagle 
at  the  end  of  a  pike,  with  its  wings  stretched  out ;  and 
the  same  was  ever  after  used  by  the  kings  of  Persia. 
He  made  his  troops  halt  three  times  before  they  ar- 
rived at  the  enemy's  army;  and  after  having  marched 
about  twenty  stadia,  or  two  miles  and  a  half,  they 
came  in  view  of  them. 

When  the  two  armies  were  within  sight  of  each 
other,  and  the  enemies  had  observed  how  much  their 


•  Cvrop.  I.  vi.  p.  169.  «•  Ibid,  p.  169,  170. 

•  Ibid.  p.  170.  «  Ibid.  1.  vii.  p.  172. 

'  He  had  really  a  God  for  hu  guide,  but  very  diffbren* 
from  Jupiter. 


164 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


front  exceeded  that  of  Cyrus,  they  made  the  centre 
of  their  army  halt,  whilst  the  two  wings  advanced 
projecting  to"  the  right  and  left,  w;th  design  to  enclose 
Cyrus's  army,  and  to  begin  their  attack  on  every  side 
at  the  same  time.  This  movement  did  not  at  all  alarm 
Cyrus,  because  he  expected  it.  Having  given  the 
word  for  rallying  the  troops,  Jupiter  leader  and  pro- 
tector, he  le.t  his  right  wing,  promising  to  rejoin  them 
immediately  and  help  them  to  conquer,  if  it  was  the 
will  of  the  gods. 

He  rode  through  all  the  ranks,  to  give  his  order?, 
and  to  encourage  the  soldiers;1  and  he,  who  on  all 
other  occasions  was  so  modest,  and  so  far  from  the 
least  air  of  ostentation,  was  now  full  of  a  noble  con- 
fidence, and  spoke  as  if  Ke  was  assured  of  victory: 
Follow  me,  comrades,  says  he,  the  victory  is  certainly 
ours:  the  gods  are  for  us.  He  observed  that  many  of 
his  officers,  and  even  Abradates  himself,  were  uneasy 
at  the  movement,  which  the  two  wings  of  the  Lydian 
army  made,  in  order  to  attack  them  on  the  two  flanks: 
"Those  troops  alarm  you,'1  says  he:  "believe  me, 
those  are  the  very  troops  that  will  be  the  first  routed  ; 
and  to  you,  Abradates,  I  give  that  as  a  signal  of  the 
time  when  you  are  to  fall  upon  the  enemy  with  your 
chariots."  In  fact,  the  event  happened  just  as  Cyrus 
had  foretold.  After  Cyrus  had  given  such  orders  as 
he  thought  necessary  every  where,  he  returned  to  the 
right  wing  of  his  army. 

When  the  two  detached  bodies  of  the  Lydian 
troops  were  sufficiently  extended,8  Croesus  gave  the 
signal  to  the  main  body,  to  march  up  directly  to  the 
front  of  the  Persian  army,  whilst  the  two  wings,  that 
were  wheeling  round  upon  their  flanks,  advanced  on 
each  side;  so  that  Cyrus's  army  was  enclosed  on 
three  sides,  as  if  it  had  three  great  armies  to  engage 
with;  and  as  Xenophon  says,  looked  like  a  small 
sijiiiirc  drawn  within  a  great  one. 

In  an  instant,  on  the  first  signal  Cyrus  gave,  his 
troops  faced  about  on  every  side,  keeping  a  profound 
silence  in  expectation'  of  the  event.  The  prince  now 
thought  it  time  to  sing  the  hymn  of  battle.  The 
whole  army  answered  to  it  with  loud  shouts,  and  in- 
vocations of  the  god  of  war.  Then  Cyrus,  at  the 
head  of  some  troops  of  horse,  briskly  followed  by  a 
body  of  foot,  fell  immediately  upon  the  enemy's  forces 
that  were  marching  to  attack  the  right  of  his  army  in 
flunk:  and  having  attacked  them  in  flank,  as  they  in- 
tended to  do  him,  put  them  into  great  disorder.  The 
chariots  then  driving  furiously  upon  the  Lydians, 
completed  their  defeat. 

In  the  same  moment,  the  troops  of  the  left  flank, 
knowing  by  the  noise  that  Cyrus  had  begun  the  battle 
on  the  right,  advanced  to  the  enemy.  And  imme- 
diately the  squadron  of  camels  was  made  to  advance 
likewise,  as  Cyrus  had  ordered.  The  enemy's  cavalry 
did  not  expect  this;  and  their  horses  at  a  distance, 
as  soon  as  ever  they  were  sensible  of  the  approach  of 
those  animals  (for  hoi-ses  cannot  endure  the  smell  of 
camels,)  began  to  snort  and  prance,  to  run  foul  upon, 
and  overturn,  one  another,  throwing  their  riders,  and 
treading  them  under  their  feet.  Whilst  they  were  in 
this  contusion  a  small  body  of  horse  commanded  by 
Artagcse*,  pushed  them  very  warmly,  to  prevent  them 
from  rallying;  and  the  chariots  armed  with  scythes 
falling  furiously  upon  them,  they  were  entirely  rout- 
ed with  a  dreadful  slaughter. 

This  bf  ing  the  signal  which  Cyrus  had  given  Ahr*. 
dates  for  attacking  the  front  of  the  enemy's  army,  he 
drove  like  lightning  upon  them  with  all  his  chariots.8 
Their  first  ranks  were  not  able  to  stand  so  violent  a 
charge,  but  gave  way,  and  were  dispersed.  Having 
broken  and  overthrown  them,  Abradates  came  up  to 
the  Egyptian  battalions,  which  being  covered  with 
their  bucklers,  and  marching  in  such  close  order  that 
their  chariots  had  not  room  to  pierce  amongst  them, 
rave  him  much  more  trouble,  and  would  not  have 
been  broken,  but  for  the  violence  of  the  horses  that 
trod  upon  them.  It  wa?  a  most  dreadful  spectacle  to 
see  the  heap?  of  men  and  horses;  overturned  chariots, 
broken  arms,  and  all  the  direful  effects  of  the  sharp 


scythes,  which  cut  every  thing  in  pieces  that  came  IB 
their  way.  But  Abraciates's  chariot  having  the  mis 
fortune  to  be  overturned,  he  and  his  men  were  killed 
after  they  had  signalized  their  valour  in  an  extraordi- 
nary manner.  The  Egyptians  then  marching  for- 
wards in  close  order,  and  covered  with  their  bucklert 
obliged  the  Persian  infantry  to  give  way,  and  drove 
them  beyond  their  fourth  line,  as  iar  as  to  their  ma- 
chines. There  the  Egyptians  nut  a  fresh  storm  of 
arrows  and  javelins,  that  were  poured  upon  .their 
heads  from  the  moving  towers;  and  the  battalions  of 
the  Persian  rear-guard  advancing  sword  in  hand, 
hindered  their  archers  and  spearmen  from  rttreat- 
ing  any  farther,  and  obliged  them  to  return  to  the 
charge. 

Cyrus  in  the  mean  time  having  put  both  the  horse 
and  foot  to  flight  on  the  left  of  the  Egyptians,  did  not 
lose  time  in  pursuing  the  fugitives.*  But,  pushing 
on  directly  to  the  centre,  he  had  the  mortification  to 
find  his  Persian  troops  had  been  forced  to  give  way; 
and  rightly  judging,  that  the  only  means  to  prevent  the 
Egyptians  from  gaining  farther  ground,  would  be  to 
attack  them  behind,  he  did  so,  and  fell  upon  their 
rear:  the  cavalry  came  up  at  the  same  time,  and  the 
enemy  was  pushed  with  great  fury.  The  Egyptians, 
being  attacked  on  all  sides,  faced  about  every  way, 
and  defended  themselves  with  wonderful  bravery. 
Cyrus  himself  was  in  great  danger;  his  horse,  which 
a  soldier  had  stabbed  in  the  belly,  sinking  under  him, 
he  fell  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies.  Here  was  an  op- 
portunity, ?ays  Xenophon,  of  seeing  how  important  it 
is  for  a  commander  to  have  the  affection  of  his  soldiers. 
Officers  and  men,  equally  alarmed  at  the  clanger  in 
which  they  saw  their  leader,  ran  headlong  into  the 
thick  forest  of  pikes,  to  rescue  and  save  him.  He 
quickly  mounted  another  horse,  and  the  battle  became 
more  bloody  than  ever.  At  length  Cyrus,  admiring 
the  valour  of  the  Egyptians,  and  being  concerned  to 
see  such  brave  men  perish,  offered  them  honourable 
conditions,  if  they  would  surrender,  letting  them 
know,  at  the  same  time,  that  all  their  allies  had  abap 
doned  them.  The  Egyptians  accepted  the  conditions; 
and,  as  they  prided  themselves  no  less  upon  theii 
fidelity  than  on  their  courage,  they  stipulated,  thai 
they  should  not  be  obliged  to  carry  arms  against  Croe- 
sus! in  whose  service  they  had  been  engaged.  From 
thenceforward  they  served  in  the  Persian  army  with 
inviolable  fidelity. 

Xenophon  observes,*  that  Cyrus  gave  them  the 
cities  of  Larissa,  and  Cyllene,  near  Cumnp.  upon  the 
sea-coast,  as  also  other  inland  places,  which  were  in- 
habited by  their  descendants  even  in  his  time;  and  he 
adds,  that  these  places  were  called  the  cities  of  the 
Egyptians.  This  observation  of  Xenophon's,  as  also 
many  others  in  several  parts  of  his  Cyropaedia,  in 
order  to  prove  the  truth  of  what  he  advances,  show 
plainly  that  he  meant  that  work  as  a  true  history  of 
Cyrus,  at  least  with  respect  to  the  main  substance  of 
itiand  the  greatest  part  of  the  facts  and  transactions. 
This  judicious  reflection  Monsieur  Frerct  makes  up- 
on this  passage. 

The  battle  lasted  till  evening.6  Croesus  retreated 
as  fast  as  he  could,  with  his  troops  to  Sardis.  The 
other  nations,  in  like  manner,  that  very  night  directed 
their  course,  each  to  their  own  country,  and  made  as 
long  marches  as  they  possibly  could.  The  conquer- 
or*, after  they  had  eaten  something,  and  posted  the 
guards,  went  to  rest. 

In  describing  this  battle,  I  have  endeavoured  ex- 
actly to  follow  the  Greek  text  of  Xenophon,  the  Latin 
translation  of  which  is  not  always  faithful.  Some 
military  men,  to  whom  I  have  communicated  this  de- 
scription, find  a  defect  in  the  manner  in  which  Cyrus 
drew  up  his  forces  in  order  of  battle;  as  he  placed 
no  troops  to  cover  his  flanks,  to  sustain  his  armed 
chariots,  and  to  oppose  the  two  bodies  of  troopi 
which  Croesus  had  detached  to  fall  upon  the  flanki 
of  Cyrus's  army.  It  is  possible  such  a  circumstance 
might  have  escaped  Xenophon  in  describing  thii 
battle. 


i  Cyrop.  1.  rii.  p  173—176 
•  Ibiii.p  177. 


*  Ibid  p  176. 


«  Cyrop  1.  rit.  p.  178. 
•  Ibid.  p.  180 


•  Ibid.  p.  179 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


1G5 


It  it  allowed  that  Cyrus's  victory  was  chiefly  owing 
to  his  Persian  cavalry,1  which  was  a  new  establish- 
ment, and  entirely  the  fruit  of  that  prince's  care  and 
activity  in  forming  his  people,  and  perfecting;  them  in 
•  part  of  the  military  art,  of  which,  till  his  time,  they 
had  been  utterly  ignorant.  The  chariots  armed  with 
scythes  did  good  strvice,  and  the  use  of  them  was 
ever  alter  retained  by  the  Persians.  The  camels,  too, 
weie  not  unserviceable,  in  this  battle,  though  Xeno- 
plion  makes  no  great  account  of  them;  and  observes 
that  in  his  tioe  they  made  no  other  use  for  them  than 
for  carrying  the  baggmge. 

I  do  not  undertake  to  write  a  panegyric  upon  Cr- 
fns  or  to  magnify  his  merit.  It  is  sufficient  to  take 
notice,  that  in  this  affair,  we  see  all  the  qualities  of  a 
fr<  ::l  g<  neral  shine  out  in  him.  Before  the  battle,  an 
adminiMe  sagacity  and  foresight  in  discovering  and 
disconcerting  the  enemy's  measures;  an  infinite  ex- 
actness in  the  detail  of  affairs,  in  taking  rare  that  his 
army  should  be  provided  with  every  thing  necessary, 
and  all  his  orders  punctually  executed  at  the  times 
fixed  ;  a  won .;>  i  ul  application  to  gain  the  hearts  ot 
his  solders,  and  to  inspire  them  with  confidence  and 
ardour:  in  the  heat  of  action,  what  a  spirit  and  ac- 
tivity; what  a  presence  of  mind  in  giving  orders  as 
occasion  requires;  what  courage  and  intrepidity,  and 
at  the  same  time  what  humanity  towaids  the  enemy, 
whose  valour  he  respects,  and  whose  blood  he  is  un- 
willing to  shed!  \Vc  shall  soon  see  what  use  he 
made  of  his  victory. 

Bat  what  appcnrs  to  me  still  more  remarkable,  and 
more  worthy  of  admiration  than  all  the  rest,  is  the 
constant  care  he  took,  on  all  occasions,  to  pay  that 
homage  and  worship  to  the  Deitv,  which  he  thought 
belonged  to  him.  Doubtless  the  reader  has  been  sur- 
prised to  see,  in  the  relation  I  have  given  of  this  bat- 
tle, how  many  times  Cyrus,  in  sight  of  all  his  army, 
makes  menlion  of  the  gods,  offers  sacrifices  and  liba- 
tions to  them,  addresses  himself  to  them,  and  implores 
their  succour  and  protection.  But  in  this  I  have  add- 
ed nothing  to  the  original  text  of  the  historian,  who 
was  also  a  military  man  himself,  and  who  thought  it 
no  dishonour  to  himself  or  his  profession  to  relate 
the«e  particular  circumstances.  VVhat  a  shame,  then, 
and  a  reproach  would  it  be  to  a  Christian  officer  or 
general,  if  on  a  day  of  battle  he  should  blush  to  ap- 
pear as  religious  and  devout  as  a  pagan  prince;  and 
if  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  God  of  armies  whom  he  ac- 
knowledges as  such,  should  make  a  less  impression 
upon  his  mind,  than  respect  for  the  false  deities  of 
paganism  did  upon  the  mind  of  Cyrus! 

As  for  Croesus,  he  makes  no  great  figure  in  this 
action ;  not  one  word  is  said  of  him  in  the  whole  en- 
gagement. But  that  profound  silence  which  Xeno- 
phon  ob>ervfs  with  regard  to  him,  seems,  in  my  opin- 
ion, to  imply  a  great  deal,  and  gives  us  to  understand 
that  a  man  may  be  a  powerful  prince,  or  a  rich  po- 
tentate, without  being  a  great  warrior. 

But  lex  us  return  to  the  camp  of  the  Persians.* 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  what  must  be  the  affliction  and 
-  .if  Panthea,  when  the  news  was  brought  her 
of  Abradafes's  death.  Having  caused  his  body  to  be 
brought  to  her,  and  leaning  her  head  upon  her  knees, 
quite  out  of  her  senses,  with  her  eyes  steadfastly  fixed 
upon  the  melancholy  object,  she  thought  of  nothing 
but  feed'iiff  her  grief  and  indulging  her  misery  with 
;  of  that  dismal  and  bloody  spectacle.  Cyrus 
bt-i.iic  told  what  a  condition  she  was  in,  ran  immedi- 
ately to  her,  sympathised  with  her  affliction,  and  be- 
wa'.fed  her  unhappy  fate  with  tears  of  compassion, 
doinsr  all  that  he  possibly  could  to  give  her  comfort, 
and  ordering  extraordinary  honours  to  be  shown  to 
the  brave  deceased  Abradates.  But  no  sooner  wag 
Cyrus  retired,  than  Pantliea,  overpowered  with  grief, 
stabbed  herself  with  a  dagger,  and  fell  dead  upon  the 
boilv  of  her  husband.  They  were  both  buried  in  one 
coiiimon  grave  upon  the  very  spot,  and  a  monument 
w<»»  erected  for  them,  which  was  standing  in  the  time 
ef Xenophon. 


i  fvriip.  I.  vii.  p.  IPO. 
•  Ibid  1.  »ii.  p.  184—180. 


SECTION   VI.— THE    TAKING   OF   EARTHS  A>D  Ot 
CRO-EUS. 

THE  next  day  in  the  morning  Cynis  marched  to- 
wards Sard  is.**  If  we  may  believe  "Herodotus,  Croe- 
*us  did  not  imagine  that  Cyrus  intended  to  shut  him 
up  in  the  city,  and  therefore  marched  out  with  his 
forces  to  meet  him,  and  to  give  him  battle  Accord- 
ing to  the  historian,  the  Lydians  were  the  bravest  an1* 
most  warlike  people  of  Asia.  Their  principal  strength 
consisted  in  their  cavalry.  Cyrus,  in  order  to  render 
that  the  less  serviceable  to  them,  made  his  cameU 
advance  first,  of  which  animals  the  horse  could  en- 
dure neither  the  sight  nor  the  smell,  and  therefor* 
immediately  retired  on  their  approach.  Upon  which 
the  riders  dismounted,  and  came  to  the  engagement 
on  foot,  which  was  very  obstinately  maintained  on 
both  sides;  but  at  length  the  Lydians  gave  way,  and 
were  forced  to  retreat  into  the  city;*  which  Cyrus 
quickly  besieged,  causing  his  engines  to  be  levelled 
against  the  walls,  and  his  scaling-ladders  to  be  pre- 
pared, as  if  he  intended  to  attack  it  by  storm.  But 
whilst  he  was  amusing  the  besieged  with  these  pre- 
parations, the  night  following  he  made  himself  master 
of  the  citadel,  by  a  private  way  that  led  thereto,  which 
he  was  informed  of  by  a  Persian  slave,  who  had  been 
a  servant  to  the  governor  of  that  place.  At  break  of 
day  he  entered  the  city,  where  he  met  with  no  resist- 
ance. His  first  care  was  to  preserve  it  from  being 
plundered;  for  he  perceived  the  Chaldeans  had  quit- 
ted their  ranks,  and  already  begun  to  disperse  them- 
selves in  all  quarters.  To  stop  the  rapacious  hands 
of  fortign  soldiers,  and  tie  them  as  it  were  by  a  single 
command,  in  a  city  so  abounding  with  riches  as  Sardu 
was,  is  a  thing  not  to  be  done  but  by  so  singular  an 
authority  as  Cyrus  had  over  his  army.  He  gave  all 
the  citizens  to  understand  that  their  lives  should  b* 
spared,  and  neither  their  wives  nor  children  touched, 
provided  they  brought  him  all  their  gold  and  silver. 
This  condition  they  readily  complied  with;  and  Croe- 
sus himself,  whom  Cyrus  had  ordered  to  be  conducted 
to  him,  set  them  an  example,  by  delivering  up  all  hi» 
riches  and  treasures  to  the  conqueror. 

When  Cyrus  had  given  all  necessary  orders  con- 
cerning the  city,5  he  had  a  private  conversation  with 
the  kiiig,  of  whom  he  asked  among  other  things,  what 
he  now  thought  of  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  and  of  the 
answers  given  by  the  god  that  presided  there,  for 
whom  it  was  said,  he  always  had  a  great  regard? 
Crojsus  first  acknowledged,  that  he  had  justly  incur- 
red the  indignation  of  that  god,  for  havkig  shown  a 
distrust  of  the  truth  of  his  answers,  and  for  having  put 
him  to  the  trial  by  an  absurd  and  ridiculous  question; 
and  then  declared,  that  notwithstanding  all  this,  he 
still  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  him;  so  that  having 
consulted  him,  to  know  what  he  should  do  in  order  to 
lead  a  happv  life,  the  oracle  had  given  him  an  answer, 
which  implied  in  substance,  that  he  should  enjoy  a 
perfect  and  lasting  happiness  when  he  once  came  to 
the  knowledge  of  himself.  "  F'or  want  of  this  know- 
ledge," continued  he,  "and  believing  myself,  through 
the  excessive  praises  that  were  lavished  upon  me,  to 
be  something  very  different  from  what  I  am,  I  ac- 
cepted the  title  of  generalissimo  of  the  whole  army, 
and  unadvisedly  engaged  in  a  war  against  a  prince 
infinitely  my  superior  in  all  respects.  But  now  that 
I  am  instructed  by  my  defeat,  and  begin  to  know  my- 
self, I  believe  I  am  going  to  begin  to  be  happy;  and 
if  you  prove  favourable  to  me  (lor  my  fate  is  in  your 
hands,)  I  shall  certainly  be  so."  Cyrus  touched  with 
compassion  at  the  misfortune  of  the  king,  who  was 
fallen  in  a  moment  from  so  great  an  elevation,  and 


•  Herod,  li.  c.79— £4. 

*  fThi»  city,  famous  Hi  being  the  capital  of  th?  3nfort»- 
nate  Owns,  and  afterward*  of  the  Persian  province  of  Alia 
Minor,  anil    still  more  celebrated  in  after  asm  as  one  of  th« 
Seven  Apocalyptic  Churches,  is  now  a  miserable  village  call 
ed  Sart.     An  ih<>  place,  however,  ii  a  station  of  the  caravan* 
rominj  from  Persia  to  Smyrna,  it  lias  a  large  khan  built  in 
it  for  the  accommodation  of  travellers.     The  present  inhab- 
itant* arc  mostly  nhepherd*.  who  tend  their  numerous  flocks 
and  herds  which  feed  in  the  spacious  plains.] 

«  Cyrop.  1.  vii.  p.  180.  •  Ibid,  p  18'— 184 


166 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


admiring  his  equanimity  under  such  a  reverse  of  for- 
tune, treated  him  with  a  great  deal  of  clemenry  and 
kindness,  suffering  him  to  enjoy  both  the  title  and 
authority  of  king,  under  the  restriction  of  not  having 
the  power  to  make  war;  toat  is  to  say,  he  discharged 
him  (as  Croesus  acknowledged  himself)  from  all  the 
burdensome  part  of  regal  power,  and  truly  enabled 
him  to  lead  a  happy  life,  exempt  from  all  care  and 
disquiet.  From  thenceforward  he  took  him  with  him 
in  all  his  expeditions,  either  out  of  esteem  for  him, or 
to  have  the  benefit  of  his  counsel,  or  out  of  policy, 
and  to  be  the  more  secure  of  his  person. 

Herodotus,  and  other  writers  after  him,  relate  this 
•tory  with  the  addition  of  some  very  remarkable  cir- 
cumstances, which  I  think  it  incumbent  on  me  to 
mention,  notwithstanding  they  seem  to  be  much  more 
wonderful  than  true. 

J  have  already  observed,1  that  the  only  son  Croesus 
had  living  was  dumb.  This  voung  prince  seeing^  a 
soldier,  when  the  city  was  taken,  ready  to  give  the 
king,  whom  he  did  not  know,  a  stroke  upon  the  head 
with  his  scimitar,  made  such  a  violent  effort  and 
struggle,  out  of  fear  and  tenderness  for  the  life  of  his 
father,  that  he  broke  the  string  of  his  tongue,  and 
Cried  out.  Soldier,  spare  the  life  ofCrcextis. 

Croesus  being  a  prisoner,  was  condemned  by  the 
conqueror  to  be  burnt  alive.2  Accordingly  the  fune- 
ral pile  was  prepared,  and  that  unhappv  prince,  being 
laid  thereon,  and  just  upon  the  point  of*  execution,  re- 
collecting the  conversation  he  had  formerly  had  with 
Solon,3  was  wofully  convinced  of  the  truth  of  that 
philosopher's  admonition,  and  in  remembrance  there- 
of, cried  aloud  three  times,  Solon!  Solon!  Solon! 
Cyrus,  who,  with  the  chief  officers  of  his  court,  was 
present  at  this  spectacle,  was  curious  to  know  why 
Croesus  pronounced  that  celebrated  philosopher's 
name  with  so  much  vehemence  in  this  extremity.  Be- 
ing told  the  reason,  and  reflecting  upon  the  uncertain 
state  of  all  sublunary  things,  he  was  touched  with 
commiseration  at  the  prince's  misfortune,  caused  him 
to  be  taken  from  the  pile,  and  treated  him  afterwards, 
as  long  as  he  lived,  with  honour  and  respect.  Thus 
had  Solon  the  glory,1*  with  one  single  word,  to  save 
the  life  of  one  king,  and  give  a  wholesome  lesson  of 
instruction  to  another. 

Two  answer?  in  particular,  given  by  the  Delphic 
oracle,  had  induced  Croesus  to  engage  in  the  war  which 
prored  so  fatal  to  him.  The  one  was,  that  he  was  to 
believe  himself  in  danger  when  the  Medes  should  have 
a  mule  to  reign  over  them:  the  other,  that  when  he 
should  pass  the  river  Halys,  to  make  war  against  the 
Medes,  he  would  destroy  a  mighty  empire.  From  the 
first  of  these  oracular  answers  he  concluded,  consid- 
ering the  impossibility  of  the  thing  spoken  of,  that  he 
had  nothing  to  fear;  and  from  the  second  he  conceived 
hopes  of  subverting  the  empire  of  the  Medes.  When 
he  found  how  things  had  happened  quite  contrary  to 
his  expectations,  with  Cyrus's  leave  he  despatched 
messengers  to  Delphi,  with  orders  to  make  a  present 
to  the  god,  in  his  name,  of  a  golden  chain,  ann  at  the 
same  time  to  reproach  him  for  having  so  basely  de- 
Cf  ived  him  by  his  oracles,  notwithstanding  the  num- 
berless presents  and  offerings  he  had  made  him.  The 
god  was  at  no  great  pains  to  justify  his  answers.  The 
mule  which  the  oracle  meant  was  Cyrus,  who  derived 
his  extraction  from  two  different  nations,  being  a  Per- 
sian by  the  father's  side. and  a  Mede  by  the  mother's; 
and  a«  to  the  great  empire  which  Croesus  was  to  over- 
throw, the  oracle  did  not  mean  that  of  the  Medes,  but 
his  own. 

It  was  by  such  false  and  deceitful  oracles,  that  the 
father  of  lies,  the  devil,  who  was  the  author  of  them, 
imnosed  upon  mankind,  in  those  times  of  ignorance 
and  darkne««,  always  giving  his  answers  to  those  thst 
consulted  him,  in  such  ambiguous  and  doubtful  terms, 
that,  let  the  event  be  what  it  would,  they  contained 
a  relative  meaning. 

When  the  people  of  Ionia  and  ^Eolia  were  apprised 


i   Hrrrwi.  I.  i.  c.  85. 

•  IhiH.  86—91.     Plut.  in  Solon. 

*  Thi«  conversation  is  already  related. 

«  Kai  S:~-**  TTXI.  5  2ix..»  i»>  X6y«  rkr 

«.-"i.ra;    Tar  £»iTi\.i»F.       Plut 


of  Cyrus's  having  subdued  the  Lydian*,'  they  sent 
ambassadors  to  him  at  Sardis,  to  desire  he  would  re- 
ceive them  as  his  subjects  upon  the  same  conditions 
he  had  granted  the  Lydians.  Cyrus,  who  before  his 
victory  had  solicited  them  in  vain  to  embrace  his  party, 
and  was  then  in  a  condition  to  compel  them  to  it  by 
force,  answered  them  only  by  a  fable  of  a  fisherman, 
who  having  played  upon  his  pipe,  in  order  to  make 
the  fish  come  to  him,  in  vain,  found  there  was  no  way 
to  catch  them  but  by  throwing  his  net  into  the  water. 
Failing  in  their  hopes  of  succeeding  this  way,  they 
applied  to  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  demanded  their 
succour.  The  Lacediemonians  thereupon  sent  depu 
ties  to  Cyrus,  to  let  him  know  that  they  would  not 
suffer  him  to  undertake  any  thing  against  the  Greeks. 
Cyrus  onlv  laughed  at  such  a  message,  and  warned 
them  in  his  turn  to  take  care,  and  put  themselves  in  a 
condition  to  defend  their  own  territories. 

The  nations  ol  the  isles  had  nothing  to  apprehend 
from  Cyrus,  because  he  had  not  yet  subdued  the  Phoe- 
nicians, and  the  Persians  had  no  shipping. 

ARTICLE  II. 

THE   HISTORY  OF  THE   BESIEGING   AND  TAKING  OF 
BABYLON   BY    CYRUS. 

Cyrus  stayed  in  Asia  Minor,6  till  he  had  entirely  re- 
duced all  the  nations  that  inhabited  it  into  subjection, 
from  the  ./Egean  sea  to  the  river  Euphrates.  From 
thence  he  proceeded  to  Syria  and  Arabia,  which  he 
also  subjected.  After  whfch  he  entered  into  Assyria, 
and  advanced  towards  Babylon,  the  only  city  oi' the 
east  that  stood  out  against  him. 

The  siege  of  this  important  place  was  no  easy  en- 
terprise. The  walls  of  it  were  of  a  prodigious  height 
and  appeared  to  be  inaccessible,  without  mentioning 
the  immense  number  of  people  within  them  for  their 
defence.  Besides,  the  city  was  stored  with  all  sorts 
of  provisions  for  twenty  years.  However  these  diffi- 
culties did  not  discourage  Cyrus  from  pursuing  his 
design:  but  despairing  to  take  the  place  by  storm  or 
assault,  he  made  them  believe  his  design  was  to  reduct 
it  by  famine.  To  which  end  he  caused  a  line  of  cir- 
cumvallation  to  be  drawn  quite  round  the  city,  with  a 
large  and  deep  ditch;  and,  that  his  troops  might  notb« 
over- fatigued,  he  divided  his  army  into  twelve  bodies, 
and  assigned  each  of  them  its  month  for  guarding  th« 
trenches.  The  besieged,  thinking  themselves  out  of 
all  danjer,  by  reason  of  their  ramparts  and  magazines, 
insulted  Cyrus  from  the  top  of  their  walls,  and  laugh, 
ed  at  all  his  attempts,  and  all  the  trouble  he  gave  him 
self,  as  so  much  unprofitable  labour. 

SECTION  I. — PREDICTIONS  OFTHE  PRINCIPAL  CIR. 
CU.MSTANCES  RENTING  TO  THE  SIEGE  AND  THK 
TAKING  OF  BABYI.ON,  AS  THEY  ARE  SET  DCWN  IH 
DIFFERENT  PLACES  OF  THE  HOLY  SCRIPTURES. 
As  the  taking  of  Babylon  is   one  of  the  greatest 
events  in  ancient  history,  and  as  the  principal  circum- 
stances with  which   it  was  attended  were  forrtold  in 
the   Holy  Scriptures   many    years  before  it  happen- 
ed, I  think  it  not  improper,  before  I  give  «n   account 
of  what  the  profane  writers  say  of  it,  briefly  to  put  to 
gether  what  we  find  upon  the  same  head  in  the  sacred 
pages,  that  the   reader  may  be   the  more  capable  of 
comparing  the   predictions  and  the  accomplishment 
of  them  together. 

I.   The  Prediction  of  the  Jewish  Captivity  at  Baby 

Ion,  and  of  the  Time  of  its  Duration. 
God  Almighty  was  pleased  not  onlv  to  cause  the 
captivity,  which  his  people  were  to  suffer  at  Babylon, 
to  be  foretold  a  longtime  before  it  came  ts  pass,  but 
likewise  to  set  down  the  exact  number  of  years  it  was 
to  last.  The  term  he  fixed  for  it  was  seventy  years, 
after  which  he  promised  he  would  deliver  tfiem,  hy 
bringing  a  remarkable  and  irretrievable  destruction 
upon  the  city  of  Babylon,  the  place  of  their  bondage 
and  confinement.  "And  these  nations  shall  serve  the 
king  of  Babylon  seventy  years."  Jer.  xxv.  11. 


»  Herod.  I.  i.  r.  141.  152,153. 

•  Ihid.  c.  177.    Cyrop.  I.  vii.  p.  186—188. 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


167 


II.  The  Causes  of  God's  Wrath  against  Babylon. 
That  which  kindled  the  wrath  of  God  against  Baby- 
lon was,  1.  her  insupportable  pride;  2.  her  inhuman 
cruelty  towards  the  Jews;  and  3.  the  sacrilegious  im- 
piety of  her  king. 

1.  Her  pndt.     She  believed  herself  to  be  invinci- 
ble.1 She  said  in  her  heart,  I  am  the  queen  of  nations, 
»nd  I  shall  remain  so  for  ever.     There  is  no  power 
equal  to  mine.  All  other  powers  are  either  subject  or 
tributary  to  me,  or  in  alliance  with  me.    I  shall  never 
know  either  barrenness  or  widowhood.     Eternity  is 
written  in  my  destiny,  according  to  the  observation  of 
•11  those  that  have  consulted  the  stars  to  know  it. 

2.  Her  cruelty.     It  is  God  himself  that  complains 
of  it.     "  I  was  willing,"*  says  he,  "  to  punish  my  peo- 
ple, as  a  father  chastiseth  his  children.     I  sent  them 
for  a  time  into  banishment  at  Babylon,  with  a  design 
to   recall   them,  as  soon   as  they  were   become  more 
thankful  and    more   faithful.     But  Babylon  and  her 

Frince  have  added  to  the  paternal  chastisement  which 
inflicted,  such  cruel  o\^i  inhuman  treatment  as  my 
clemency  abhors.  Their  design  has  been  to  destroy; 
mine  was  to  save.  The  banishment  they  have  turned 
into  a  severe  bondage  and  captivity,  and  have  shown 
no  compassion  or  regard  either  to  age,  infirmity,  or 
virtue." 

3.  The  sacrilegious  impiety  of  her  king.     To  the 
pride  and  cruelty  of  his  predecessors  Belshazrar  added 
an  impiety  that  was  peculiar  to  himself.     He  did  not 
only  prefer  his  false  divinities  to  the  true  and  only- 
God,  but   fancied  that  he  had  vanquished  his  power, 
because  he  was  possessed  of  the  vessels  which  had 
bflonged  to  his  worship;  and,  as  if  he   meant  it  to 
iffront  him,  he  affected  to  apply  those  holy  vessels  to 
profane  uses.     This  was  what  completed  the  measure 
of  God's  wrath. 

III.  The  Decree  pronoimr.ed  against  Babylon.  Pre- 
diction of  the  Calamities  that  were  to  Jail  vpo  I  Her, 
ami  ff  her  viler  tit slruction. 

"Make  bright  the  arrows,  gather  the  shi  Ids."* 
gaith  the  prophet  speaking  to  the  Medes  and  Pjrsians. 
"The  Lord  hath  raised  up  the  spirit  of  the  kings  of 
the  Medes,  for  his  device  is  against  Babylon,  to  de- 
stroy it,  because  it  is  the  vengeance  of  the  Lord,  the 
vengeance  of  his  temple." 

"  Howl  ye.*  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand, — a 
day  cruel  both  with  wratfi  and  fierce  anger  to  lay  the 
laud  desolate.  Behold,5  I  will  punish  the  king  of 
Babylon  and  his  land,  as  I  have  punished  the  king  of 
Assyria."6 

"  Shout  against  her  round  about."  Recompense 
6er  according  to  her  work;  according  to  all  tht.t  she 
hath  done,  do  unto  her: — and  spare  not  her  young 
men;  destroy  ye  utterly  all  her  host.  Every  one  that 
is  found  shall  be  thrust  through,*  and  every  one  that 
is  joined  to  thrm  shall  fall  by  the  sword.  Their  chil- 
dren al«o  shall  be  dashed  to  pieces  before  their  eyes. 
Iheir  houses  shall  be  spoiled,  and  their  wives  ravished. 
Behold,  I  will  stir  up  the  Medes  against  them,  who 
•hnll  not  regard  silver;  and  as  for  gold,  they  shall  not 
delight  in  it.  Their  bows  also  shall  dash  the  young 
linn  to  pieces,  and  they  shall  have  no  pity  on  the  fruit 
of  the  womb:  their  eye  shall  not  spare  children.  O 
daughter  of  Babylon,*  who  art  to  be  destroyed,  happy 
shall  he  be  that  rewardeth  thee  as  thou  hast  served  uj. 
Happy  shall  he  be  that  taketh  and  dasheth  thy  little 
ones  against  the  stones. 

"  And  Babylon,  the  glory  of  kingdoms,  and  the 
b«ai:ty  of  the  Chaldees'  excellency,  shall  he  as  when 
Clod  overthrew  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.10  It  shall 
never  be  inhabited;  neither  shall  it  be  dwelt  in  from 
generation  to  generation;  neither  shall  the  Arabian 

«  Dixisti.  In  oemriternum  pro  dominn — Dicia  in  rorde  fuo, 
F.po  sum.  ft  mm  pst  pr.vtcr  nip  amplius:  non  nedebo  vidua. 
pt  ii-nnrabo  eterilinupm.  Isa.  xlvii.  7.  8. 

•  Iratus  sum   super  populum  nieum,  Pt  dpdi  eon  in  tnana 
•ua.  Bali\l»n.     Non  posuirfii  eis  miserirordiam  :  ouper  »enpm 
•jirrrtvnsti  jugum  tuum  vuldp.     V'cnict  suppr  te  malum.  1st. 
*l»'i.  5  i  Jer   li.  11.  «  Ira.  xiii   6.  9. 

•  >«-r.  I.  IS.  f  In  the  destruction  of  Nineveh. 
'  J.T.  I.  15.  20.  and  li.3.  •  Isa.  xiii.  15--18. 

•  Fn  cxjtxvii.  8,  9  i»  Isa.  xiii.  1 )— 22. 


pitch  tent  there;  neither  shall  the  shepherds  make 
their  fold  there;  but  wild  beasts  of  (he  desert  shall  lie 
there;  and  their  houses  shall  be  full  of  doleful  crea- 
tures, and  owls  shall  dwell  there;  and  satyrs  shall 
dance  there:  And  the  wild  beasts  of  the  islands  shall 
cry  in  their  desolate  houses,  and  dragons  in  their  plea- 
sant palaces.  I  will  also  make  it  a  possession  for  the 
bittern,  and  pools  of  water;11  and  I  will  sweep  it 
with  the  besom  of  destruction,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts. 
The  Lord  of  hosts  hath  sworn,  saying,  Surely  as  I 
have  thought,  so  shall  it  come  to  pass;  and  as  I  have 
proposed,  so  shall  it  stand." 

IV.  Cyrus  called  to  destroy  Babylon,  and  to  deliver 

the  Jews. 

Cyrus,  whom  the  Divine  Providence  was  to  make 
use  of,  as  an  instrument  for  the  executing  his  design! 
of  goodness  and  mercy  towards  his  people,  was  men- 
tioned in  the  Scripture  by  his  name,  above  two  hun- 
dred years  before  he  was  born.  And,  that  the  world 
might  not  be  surprised  at  the  marvellous  rapidity  of 
his  conquests,  God  was  pleased  to  declare,  in  very 
sublime  and  remarkable  terms,  that  he  himstlf  would 
be  his  guide;  and  that  in  all  his  expeditions  he  would 
lead  him  bv  the  hand,  and  would  subdue  all  the  prin- 
ces of  the  earth  before  him.  "Thus  saith  the  Lord 
to  his  anointed,12  to  Cyrus,  whose  right  hand  I  have 
holden  to  subdue  nations  before  him;  and  1  will  loose 
the  loins  of  kings,  to  open  before  him  the  two-leaved 
gates,  and  the  gates  shall  not  be  shut.  1  will  go  be- 
fore thee,  and  make  the  crooked  places  straight.  I 
will  break  in  pieces  the  gates  of  brass,  and  cut  in 
sunder  the  bars  of  iron.  And  I  will  give  thee  the 
treasures  of  darkness  and  hidden  riches  of  secret 
places,  that  thou  mayest  know,  that  I  the  Lord,  which 
call  thee  by  thy  name,  am  the  God  of  Israel:  For  Ja- 
cob my  servant's  sake,  and  Israel,  mine  elect,  I  have 
even  called  thee  by  thy  name:  I  have  surnanied  thee, 
though  thou  hast  not  known  me." 

V.  God  gives  the  Signal  to  the  Commanders  and  to 

the  Troops,  to  march  against  Babylon. 

**  Lift  ye  up  a  banner,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  upon  the 
high  mountain,"13  that  it  may  be  seen  afar  off,  and 
that  all  they  who  are  to  obey  me  may  know  my  or- 
ders. "Exalt  the  voice  unto  them,"  that  are  able  to 
hear  you.  "  Shake  the  hand,"  as  a  signal  to  hasten 
the  march  of  those  that  are  too  far  off  to  distinguish 
another  sort  of  command.  Let  the  officers  of  the 
troops  "go  into  the  gates  of  the  nobles,"  into  the 
pavilions  of  their  kings.  Let  the  people  of  each  na- 
tion range  themselves  around  their  sovereign,  and 
make  haste  to  offer  him  their  service,  and  to  go  unto 
his  if nt  which  is  already  set  up. 

"  I  have  commanded  my  sanctified  ones;"'*  I  have 
given  my  orders  to  those  whom  1  have  sanctified  for 
the  execution  o;'  my  designs;  and  these  kings  are 
already  marching  to  obey  me,  though  they  know  me 
not.  It  is  I  that  have  placed  them  upon  the  throne, 
that  have  made  divers  nations  subject  to  them,  in 
order  to  accomplish  my  designs  by  their  administra- 
tion. "  I  have  called  my  mighty  ones  for  mine  an- 
ger."15 I  have  caused  the  mighty  warriors  to  come 
up,  to  be  the  ministers  and  executioners  of  my  wrath 
and  vengeance.  From  me  they  derive  their  courage, 
their  martial  abilities,  their  patience,  their  wisdom, 
and  the  success  of  their  enterprises.  If  they  are  in- 
vincible, it  is  because  they  serve  me:  every  thing 
gives  way,  and  trembles,  before  them,  bfause  they 
are  the  ministers  of  my  wrath  and  indignation.  They 
joyfully  labour  for  my  glory,  "  they  rejoice  in  my 
highness."  The  honour  they  have  of  being  un  ler  my 
command,  and  of  being  sent  to  deliver  a  people  .nat 
I  love,  inspires  them  with  ardour  and  cheerfulness: 
Behold!  they  triumph  already  in  a  certain  assurance 
of  victory. 

The  prophet,  a  witness  in  spirit  of  the  ordert  tSat 
are  just  given,  is  astonished  at  the  swiftness  H  ith 
which  they  are  executed  by  the  princes  und  the  poo- 


«i  Isa.  xiv.  23,24.  «»  Id.  xlv.  J— 4. 

>»  Id.  ziii.  2.  "  Id.  xiii.  3, 

»  Lai.  vert,  in  iro  med.     Heb.  in  iram  vicam. 


1CS 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


pie  I  hear  already,  ha  cries  out,  "  The  noise  of  a 
multitude  in  the  mountains,  like  as  of  a  great  people; 
•»  tumultuous  noise  of  the  kingdoms  of  nations  ga- 
t!n  n  !  t  Aether.1  The  Lord  of  hosts  inustereth  the  host 
of  the  battle:*  They  come  from  a  far  country,  from 
the  end  of  heaven,"  where  the  voice  of  God,  their 
master  and  sovereign,  has  reached  their  ears. 

But  it  is  not  with  the  sight  of  a  formidable  army, 
nor  of  the  kings  of  the  earth,  that  I  am  now  struck; 
it  is  God  himself  that  I  behold;  all  the  rest  are  but 
his  retinue,  and  the  ministers  of  his  justice.  "  It  is 
even  the  Lord  and  the  weapons  of  his  indignation,  to 
destroy  the  whole  land." 

"  A  grievous  vision  is  declared  unto  me:"8  The 
impious  BeUhazz:ir,4  king  of  Babylon,  continues  to 
act  impiously;  "  the  treacherous  dealer  dealeth  trea- 
cherously, and  the  spoiler  spoileth."  To  put  an  end 
to  these  excesses,  go  up,  thou  prince  of  Persia;  "go 
np,  O  Elam:"  and  thou  prince  of  the  Medes,  besiege 
thou  Babylon:  "  Besiege,  O  Media;  all  the  sighing, 
which  she  was  the  cause  of,  have  I  made  to  cease." 
That  wirked  city  is  taken  and  pillaged;  her  power  is 
at  an  end,  and  my  people  is  delivered. 
VI.  Circumstances  relating-  to  the  siege  and  the  ta- 
king- of  Babylon,  minutely  detailed. 

There  is  nothing,  met  h  inks,  better  calculated  to 
raise  in  us  a  profound  reverence  for  religion,  and  to 
give  us  a  great  idea  of  the  Deity,  than  to  observe  with 
what  exactness  he  reveals  to  his  prophets  the  princi- 
pal circumstances  of  the  besieging  and  taking  of  Ba- 
bylon, not  only  many  years,  but  several  ages  before  it 
happened. 

1.  We  have  already  seen  that  the  army  by  which 
Babylon  will  be  taken,  is  to  consist  of  Medes  and  Per- 
sians, and  to  be  commanded  by  Cyrus. 

2.  The  city  shall  be  attacked  after  a  very  extraordi- 
nary manner,  in  a  way  in  which  she  did  not  at  all  ex- 
pect; "Therefore  shall  evil  come   upon  thee:  thou 
shall  not  know  from  whence  it  riseth.5     She  shall  be 
all  on  a  sudden  and  in  an  instant  overwhelmned  with 
calamities,  which  she  was  not  able  to  foresee:    "  De- 
solation shall  come  upon  thee  suddenly,  which  thou 
shalt  not  know.''6     In  a  word,  she  shafl   be  taken,  as 
it  were  in  a  net,  before  she  perceiveth  that  any  snares 
have  been  laid  for  her:  "  I  have  laid  a  snare  for  thee, 
and  thou  art  also  taken,  O  Babylon,  and  thou  wast 
not  aware."7 

3.  Babylon  reckoned  the  Euphrates  alone  was  suf- 
ficient to  render  her  impregnable,  and  triumphed  in 
her  being  so  advantageously  situated  and  defended  by 
so  deep  a  river:  "O  thou" that  dwellest  upon  many 
waters:"8  it  is  God  himself  who  points  out  Babylon 
under  that  description.     And  yet  that  very  river  Eu- 
phrates shall  be  the  cause  of  her  ruin.     Cyrus,  by  a 
stratagem  (of  which  there  had  never  been  any  exam- 
ple before,  nor  has  there  been  any  thing  like  it  since.) 
shall  turn-the  course  of  that  river,  shall  lay  its  chan- 
nel dry,  and  by  that  means  open  himself  a  passage 
into  the  city:  •'  I  will  dry  up  her  sea,  and  make  her 
springs  dry  9  A  drought  is  upon  her  waters,  and  they 
ihall  be  dried  up."  Cyrus  shall  take  possession  of  the 
quays  of  the  river;  and  the  waters  which  rendered 
Babylon  inaccessible  shall  be  dried  up,  as  if  they  had 
been  consumed  by  fire:  "The  passages  are  stopped, 
and  the  reeds  they  have  burnt  with  fire.">0 

4.  She  shall  be  taken  in  the  night-time,  upon  a  day 
of  feasting  and  rejoicing,  even  whilst  her  inhabitant's 
are  at  table,  and  think  upon  nothing  h>:«  feting  and 
drinking:  "In  their  heat  I  will  make' their  feasts,  and 
I  will  make  them  drunken,  that  they  may  r;joice,  and 
sleep  a  perpetual   sleep,    and   not   wak'c,    saith    the 
Lord.""     It  is  remarkable,  that  it  is  God  who  does 
•II  this,  who  lays  a  snare  for  Babylon;  "  I  have  laid  R 
tnare  for  thee; '''*  who   dryeth  up  the  waters  of  the 
river;  "I  will  dry  up  her  sea;"  and  who  brings  that 
drunkenness   and   drowsiness    upon  her  prince*:    "I 
will  make  drunk  her  princes."13 


i   I- ;.  xiii.  4.  *  Ibid   ver.  5.  «  Ibid.  xxi.  2. 

«  This  is  the  snnce  of  i  lie  Hebrew  words, 
i  \~a    xlvii.  11.        «  Ibid.        i  Jer.  I  24.        •  Fd.li   13 
•  Id.  I.  3P.  and  li.  36  •«  Id.  li.  32.          ti  Id.  li.  39 

•»  III.  I.  24.  <»  IJ.  li.  57. 


5.  The  king  shall  be  seized  in  an  instant  with  an 
ncredible  terror  and  perturbation  of  mind  :  My 
loins  are  filled  with  pain;  pangs  have  taken  hold  upon 
me  as  the  pangs  of  a  woman  that  travaileth:  I  was 
bowed  down  at  the  hearing  of  it:  I  was  dismayed  at 
the  seeing  of  it;  my  heart  panted,  fearfuluess  atiright- 
ed  me:  The  night  of  my  pleasure  hath  he  turned  into 
fear  unto  me."1*  This  is  the  condition  BeUhazzar 
was  in,  when  in  the  middle  of  the  entertainment  he 
saw  a  hand  come  out  of  the  wall,  which  wrote  such 
characters  upon  it  as  none  of  his  divines  could  either 
explain  or  read;  but  more  especially  when  Daniel 
declared  to  him  that  those  characters  imported  the 
sentence  of  death.  "Then,"15  says  the  Scripture,  "the 
king's  countenance  was  changed,  and  his  thought* 
troubled  him  so  that  the  joints  of  his  loins  were 
loosed,  and  his  knees  smote  one  against  another.'* 
The  terror,  astonishment,  fainting,  and  trembling  of 
Belshazzar,  are  here  described  and  expressed  in  the 
same  manner  by  the  prophet  who  was  «n  eye-witness 
of  them,  as  they  were  by  the  prophet  who  foretold 
them  200  years  bofore. 

But  Isaiah  must  have  had  an  extraordinary  measure 
of  divine  illumination,  to  be  able  to  add.immedkitely 
after  the  description  of  Belshazzar' s  consternation,  the 
following  words:  I'r'vare  the  table,11'  icalch  in  the 
toatch-tower:  eat,  dnrik.  The  prophet  foresees,  that 
Belshazzar,  though  d.smayecl  £nd  confounded  at  first 
shall  recover  his  coi'rage  and  spirits,  through  the 
exhortation  of  his  courtiers;  but  n>ore  particularly 
through  the  persuasion  of  the  queen,  his  mother,  who 
represented  to  him  the  unreasonableness  of  being 
affected  with  such  unmanly  fears,  and  unnecessary 
alarms.  Let  not  thy  though.lt  trouble  thee,11  nor  let 
thy  countenance  be  changed.  They  will  exhort  him 
therefore  to  make  himself  easy,  to  satisfy  hiinst It  with 
giving  proper  orders,  and  with  the  assurance  of  being 
advertised  of  evtry  thing  by  the  vigilance  of  his  sen- 
tinels; to  order  the  rest  of  the  supper  to  be  served,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened;  and  to  recall  that  gayety 
and  joy.  which  his  excessive  fears  had  banished  from 
the  table:  "  Prepare  the  table,  watch  in  the  watch- 
tower;  eat,  drink." 

6.  But  at  the  same  lime  that  men  are  giving  their 
orders,  God  on  his  part  is  likewise giving  his;  "  Arise, 
ye  princes,18  and  anoint  the  shield."     It  is  God  him- 
self that   commands  the  princes   to  advance,  to  take 
their  arms,  and  to  enter  boldly  into  a  city  drowned 
in  wine,  or  buried  in  sleep. 

7.  Isaiah   acquaints  us  with  two  material  and  im- 
portant circumstances  concerning   the  taking  of  Ba- 
bylon.    The  first  is,  that  the  troops  with  which  it  is 
filled,  shall  not  keep  their  ground,  or  stand  firm  any 
where,  neither  at  the  palace  nor  the  citadel,  nor  any 
other  public  place  whatsoever;  that  they  shall  desert 
and  leave  one  another,  without  thinking  of  any  thing 
but  making  their  escape;  that  in  running  away   they 
shall  disperse  themselves,  and  take  different  roads, 
just  as  a  flock  of  deer,  or  of  sheep,  is  dispersed  and 
scattered  when  they  are  affrighted:  "  And  it  shall  be 
as  a  chased  roe,19  and  as  a  sheep  that  no  man  taketh 
up."     The  second  circumstance   is,  that  the  greatest 
part  of  those  troops,  though  they  were  in  the  Babylo- 
nian service  and  pay,  were  not  Babylonians:  and  that 
they  shall  return  into  the  provinces  from  whence  they 
came,    without    being  pursued    by    the    conquerors: 
because  the  divine  vengeance  was  chiefly  to  fall  upon 
the    citizens  of    Babylon:     "They  shall  turn  every 
man  to  his  own  people,*"  and  flee  every  one  into  his 
own  land." 

8.  Lastly,  not  to  mention  the  dreadful  slaughter 
which  is  to  be  made  of  the  inhabitants  of  Babylon, 
where  no  merry  will  be  shown  either  to  old   men, 
women,  or  children,  or  even  to  the  child  that  is  still 
within   its  mother's  womb,  as  has  been   already    no- 
ticed: the  last  circumstance,  I  say,  which  the  prophet 
foretels,  is  the  death  of  the  king  himself,  whose  body 
is  to  have  no  burial,  and  the  entire  extinction  of  the 
royal  family,  both  which  calamities  are  described  in 


i«  Isa.  xxi.  3,4. 
<•  I»a.  xxi.  S. 
>•  Ib.  xiii.  14. 


»'  Dan.  v.  10. 
••  Ib.  xiii.  14. 


.»  Dan.  v.  6. 
*  I.-a.  xxi.  3. 


HISTORY   OF  CYRUS. 


109 


yie  Scripture,  in  a  manner  equally  terrible  and  in- 
ftrui'tive  to  all  princes.  "  But  ttiou  art  cast  out  of 
thv  grave,'  like  an  abominable  branch.  Thou  shall 
not  be  joined  with  them''  (thy  ancestors)  "in  burial, 
because  thou  hast  destroyed  thy  land,  and  slain  thy 
people."  That  king  is  justh  forgotten,  who  has 
never  remembered,  that  he  ought  to  be  the  protector 
and  father  of  his  people.  He  that  has  lived  only  to 
ruin  ajid  destroy  his  country,  is  unworthy  of  the  com- 
mon privilege  of  burial.  As  he  has  been  an  enemy  to 
mankind,  he  ought  to  have  no  place  amongst  them. 
He  was  like  unto  the  wild  beasts  of  the  field,  and  like 
them  he  shall  be  buried;  and  since  he  had  no  senti- 
ments of  humanity  himself,  he  deserves  to  meet  with 
no  humanity  from  others.  This  is  the  sentence 
which  God  himself  pronounced  against  Belshazzar: 
and  the  malediction  extends  itself  to  his  children, 
who  were  looked  upon  as  his  associates  in  the  throne, 
and  as  the  source  of  a  long  posterity  and  succession 
of  kings,  and  were  entertained  with  nothing  by  the 
flattering  courtiers,  but  the  pleasing  prospects  and 
ideas  of  their  future  grandeur.  "  Prepare  slaughter 
for  hi*  children,*  for  the  iniquity  of  their  fathers;  that 
they  do  not  rise  nor  possess  the  land.  For  I  will  rise 
up  against  them,  saith  the  Loid  of  hosts,  and  cut  off 
from  Babylon  the  name  and  remnant,  and  son  and 
nephew,  saith  the  Lord." 

SECTIOX    II.— A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  TAKING  OF 
BABYLON. 

\  AFTER  having  seen  the  predictions  of  every  thing 
(hat  was  to  happen  to  the  impious  Babylon,  it  is  now 
time  to  come  to  the  accomplishment  of  those  prophe- 
cies; and  to  resume  our  narrative  of  the  taking  of  that 
city. 

As  soon  as  Cvrus  saw  that  the  ditch,  which  they 
had  long  worked  upon,  was  finished,  he  began  to 
think  seriously  upon  the  execution  of  his  vast  design, 
which  as  yet  he  had  communicated  to  nobody.  Provi- 
dence soon  furnished  him  with  as  fit  an  opportunity 
for  this  purpose  as  he  could  desire.  He  was  informed 
that  in  the  city  a  great  festival  was  to  be  celebrated; 
and  that  the  Babylonians  on  occasion  of  that  solem- 
nity, were  accustomed  to  pass  the  whole  night  in 
drinking  and  debauchery. 

Bfl^hazzar  himse.f  was  more  concerned  in  this 
public  rejoicing  than  any  other,*  and  gave  a  magnifi- 
cent entertainment  to  the  chief  officer*  of  the  King- 
dom, and  the  ladies  of  the  court.  When  flushed  with 
wine,  he  ordered  the  gold  and  silver  vessels,  which 
had  been  taken  from  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  to  be 
brought  out;  and,  as  an  insult  upon  the  God  of  Israel, 
he,  his  whole  court,  and  all  his  concubines,  drank  out 
of  those  sacred  vessels.  God,  who  was  provoked  at 
such  insolence  and  impiety,  at  the  same  instant  made 
him  sensible  who  it  was  th'at  he  affronted,  by  a  sudden 
apparition  of  a  hand,  writing  certain  characters  upon 
the  wall.  The  king,  terribly  surprised  and  frighted 
nt  this  vision,  immediately  sent  for  all  his  wise  men, 
his  divines,  and  astrologers,  that  they  might  read  the 
writing  to  him,  and  explain  the  meaning  of  it.  But 
they  nil  came  in  vain,  net  one  of  them  being  able  to 
expound  the  matter,  or  even  to  read  the  character?.* 
It  is  probably  in  relation  to  this  occurrence,  that  Isa- 
iah, after  having  foretold  to  Bahvlon  that  she  shall  be 
overwhelmed  with  calamities  which  she  did  not  ex- 
pect, adds,  "  Stand  now  with  thine  enchantments. 
and  with  the  multitude  of  thv  sorceries.  Let  now  the 
astrologers,  the  gtar-gazers,  the  monthly  prognostica- 
tes, stand  up,  and  save  thee  from  these  things  that 
«hall  come  upon  thee."  Isa.  xlvii.  12,  13.  The  queen- 
mother  (Nitocris.  a  princess  of  sreat  merit.)  coming 
upon  the  noise  of  this  great  prodigy  into  the  banquet- 
ing-romn,  endeavoured  to  compose  the  mind  of  the 
king  her  son,  arliising  him  to  send  for  Daniel,  with 
whose  abilities  in  such  matters  she  was  well  acquaint- 


i  Tsa.  xiv   10.  30.  »  Ib.  xir.  21,  22. 

»  Dan.  v.  1—  7>. 

«  The  reason  why  th«v  could  not  read  this  sentence  wa». 
Ilia'  it  WHS  written  in  Hrbrew  letters,  which  arc  now  called 
»he  Samaritan  characters,  and  which  the  Babylonian!  did 
•ol  understand. 

VOL.  I.-  -'22 


ed,  and  whom  the  had  always  err  jloyed  in  the  gor 
eminent  of  the  state. 

Daniel  was  therefore  immediately  sent  for,  ami 
spoke  to  the  king  with  a  freedom  and  liberty  becom- 
ing a  prophet.  He  put  him  in  mind  of  the  dreadful 
manner  in  which  God  had  punished  the  pride  of  hit 
grandfather  Ps'ebuchadnf  zzar,  and  the  flagrant  abuse 
he  made  of  his  power,5  when  he  acknowledged  no  law 
but  his  own  will,  and  thought  himself  empowered  to 
exaJt  and  to  abase,  to  inflict  destruction  am]  death 
wheresoever  he  would, only  because  such  was  his  wil' 
and  pleasure.  "  And  thou  his  son,"  says  he  to  the 
king,  "hast  not  humbled  thine  heart,' though  thou 
knowest  all  this,  but  hast  lifted  up  thyself  against  the 
Lord  of  heaven;  and  they  have  brought  the  vessels 
of  his  house  before  thee,  and  thou  and  thy  lords,  thy 
wives  and  thy  concubines,  have  drunk  wine  in  them: 
and  thou  hast  praised  the  gods  of  silver  and  gold,  of 
bras?,  iron,  wood,  and  stone,  which  see  not,  nor  hear, 
nor  know:  and  the  God,  in  whose  hand  thy  breath  is, 
and  whose  are  all  tliy  ways,  hast  thou  not  glorified. 
Then  was  the  part  of  the  hand  sent  from  him,  and  this 
writing  was  written.  And  this  is  the  writing  that 
was  written,8  MENE.  TEKEL,  UPHAR31N.7  This  ia 
the  interpretation  of  the  thing:  MENK,  God  hath  num- 
bered thy  kingdom,  and  finished  it;  TEKEL,  thoq 
art  weighed  in  the  balances,  and  art  found  wanting; 
PERES,  thy  kingdom  is  divided,  and  given  to  the 
Medeg  and  Persians."  This  interpretation,  one 
would  think,  should  have  aggravated  the  consterna- 
tion of  the  company;  but  they  found  means  to  dispel 
their  fears,  probably  upon  a  persuasion,  that  the  ca- 
lamity was  not  denounced  as  present  or  immediate, 
and  that  time  might  furnish  them  with  expedients  to 
avert  it.  This  however  is  certain,  that  for  fear  of  dis- 
turbing the  general  joy  of  the  present  festival,  they 
put  off  the  discussion  of  serious  matters  to  another 
time,  and  sat  down  again  to  their  banquet,  and  con- 
tinued their  revellings  to  a  very  late  hour. 

Cyrus,8  in  the  mean  time,  well  informed  of  the  con- 
fusion that  was  generally  occasioned  by  this  festival, 
both  in  the  palace  and  the  city,  had  posted  a  part  of 
his  troops  on  that  side  where  the  river  entered  into  the 
city,  and  another  part  on  that  side  where  it  went  out; 
and  had  commanded  them  to  enter  the  city  that  very 
night,  by  marching  along  the  channel  of  the  river,  as 
soon  as  ever  they  found  it  fordable.  Having  given 
all  necessary  orders,  and  exhorted  his  officers  to  fol- 
low him,  by  representing  to  them  that  he  marched 
under  the  guidance  of  the  gods;  in  the  evening  he 
made  them  open  the  great  receptacles,  or  ditches,  on 
both  sides  the  city,  above  and  below,  that  the  water 
of  the  river  might  run  into  them.  By  this  means  the 
Euphrates  was  quickly  emptied,  and  its  channel  be- 
came dry.  Then  the  two  forementioned  bodies  of 
troops,  according  to  their  orders,  went  into  the  chan- 
nel, the  one  commanded  by  Gobrvas,  an—  Ae  other 
by  Gadntas.  and  advanced  without  meeting  any  obsta- 
cle. The  invisible  guide,  who  had  promised  to  open 
all  the  gates  to  Cyrus,  made  the  general  negligene* 
and  disorder  of  that  riotous  night  subservient  to  hit 
design,  bv  leaving  open  the  gates  of  brass,  which 
were  made  to  shut  up  the  descents  from  the  quays  to 
the  river,  and  which  alone,  if  they  had  not  been  left 
open,  were  sufficient  to  have  defeated  the  whole  en- 
terprise. Thus  did  these  two  bodies  of  troops  pene- 
trate into  the  very  heart  of  the  city  without  any  op- 
position, and  meeting  together  at  the  royal  palace, 
according  to  their  agreement,  surprised  the  guards, 
and  cut  them  to  pieces.  Some  of  the  company  that 
were  within  the  palace  opening  the  doors  to'know 
what  noise  it  was  they  heard  without,  the  soldiers 
rushed  in,  and  quickly  made  themselves  masters  of  ity 
and  meeting  the  king,  who  came  up  to  them  swor<* 
in  hand,  at  the  head  of  those  that  were  in  the  wav  to 
succotir  him,  they  killed  him,  and  put  all  those  that 
attended  him  to  the  sword.  The  first  thing  the  con- 


•  Whom  he  would  he  slew,  and  whom   he  Wi.uld  he  kept 
alive,  and  whom  he  would  he  «iup,  and  whom  he  would  ha 
put  down.     Dux.  v.  19. 

•  Tho.p  three  wordi  signify,  number,  iceifkt,  ditinen. 
'  Or  PERM 

•  Cyrop  L  vii.  p.  189—19* 


170 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


S. 


querors  did  afterwards,  was  to  thank  the  gods  for 
having  at  least  punished  that  impious  king.  These 
words  are  Xenophon's,  and  are  very  worthy  of  atten- 
tion, os  they  so  perfectly  agree  with  what  the  Scrip- 
tures have  recorded  of  the  impious  Belshazzar. 

The  taking  of  Babylon  put  an 
A.  M.  3-166.  end  to  the  Babylonian  empire,  after 
Ant.  J.  C.  538.  a  duration  of  210  rears  from  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  Nabonas- 
nr.  Thus  was  the  power  of  that  proud  city  abolish- 
ed just  fiftv  years  after  she  had  destroyed  the  city  of 
Jerusalem  and  her  temple.  And  herein  were  accom- 
ilis'ned  those  predictions,  which  the  prophet?  Isaiah, 
eremiah,  and  Daniel  had  denounced  against  her,  and 
of  which  we  have  already  given  a  particular  account. 
There  is  still  one  more,  the  most  important  and  the 
most  incredible  of  them  all,  and  yet  the  Scripture  has 
•et  it  down  in  the  strongest  terms,  and  marked  it  out 
with  the  greatest  exactness;  a  prediction  literally  ful- 
filled in  all  its  points;  the  proofof  which  still  actually 
subsists,  is  the  most  easy  to  be  verified,  and  indeed  of 
a  nature  not  to  be  contested.  What  I  mean  is  the 
prediction  of  so  total  and  absolute  a  ruin  of  Babylon, 
that  not  the  least  remains  or  traces  should  be  leftofit. 
I  think  it  may  not  be  improper  to  give  an  account  of 
the  perfect  accomplishment  of  this  famous  prophecy, 
before  we  proceed  to  speak  of  what  followed  the  ta- 
king of  Babylon. 

SECTION  III. — THK  COMPLETION*  OF  THE  PRO- 
PHECY WHICH  FORETOLD  THE  TOTAL  RUIN  AND 
DESTRUCTION  OF  BABYLON. 

THIS  prediction  we  find  recorded  in  several  of  the 
prophets,  but  particularly  in  Isaiah,  in  the  thirteenth 
chapter,  from  the  19th  to  the  22d  verses,  and  in  the 
23d  and  24th  verses  of  the  fourteenth  chapter.  I  have 
already  inserted  it  at  lanre,  page  167.  It  is  there  de- 
clared, thit  Babvlon  shall  he  utterly  destroyed,  as  the 
criminal  cities  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  formerly  were : 
that  she  shall  be  no  more  inhabited;  that  sfie  shall 
never  be  rebuilt;  that  the  Arabs  shall  not  so  much  as 
set  np  their  tents  there;  that  the  shepherd  shall  not 
come  thither  even  to  rest  his  flock:  that  it  shall  be- 
come a  dwellins-place  for  the  wild  beasts,  and  a  re- 
treat for  the  birds  of  night;  that  the  place  where  it 
•tood  shall  be  covered  over  with  a  marsh,  so  that  no 
place  shall  be  left  to  show  where  Babylon  had  been. 
It  is  God  himself  who  pronounced  this  sentence,  and 
it  is  for  the  service  of  religion  to  show  how  exactly 
every  article  of  it  has  been  successively  accomplished. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  Babylon  ceased  to  be  a  royal 
city,  the  kinars  of  Persia  choosin?  to  reside  elsewhere. 
They  delighted  more  in  Susi,  Ecbatana,  Persepolis, 
or  any  other  place;  and  did  themselves  destroy  a  good 
part  of  Babylon. 

II.  We  are  informed  by  Strabo 
A.  M.  3880.     and  Pliny,  that   the   Macedonians, 
Ant.  J.  C.  124.     who  succeeded  the  Persians,  did  not 
only  neglect  it,  and  forbear  to  em- 
bellish  or   even   repair  it,  but  that    moreover  they 
bnilt  Seleucia  in  the  neighbourhood,1  on  purpose  to 
dratv  away  its  inhabitants,  and  cause  it  to  be  desert- 
ed.    Nothing  can  better  explain  what   the   prophet 
had  foretoll;  "It  shall  not  be  inhabited."     Its  own 
nia'tem  endeavour  to  make  it  desolate. 

III.  The  new  kinsr«  of  Persia,  who  afterwards  he- 
came  ma«ter«  of  Bahylin,  completed  the  ruin  of  it, 
by  huilrlins:  Ctp«ipHnn.»  which  carried  away  all  the 
remainder  of  the  inhabitants;  so  that  from  the  time 
the  curse  was  pronounced  aeain«t  that  city,  it  seems 
as  if  those  very  persons  that  oujht  to  have  protected 
her.  were  become  her  enemies;  and  had  all  thought  it 
th*ir  duty  to  reduce  her  to  a  state  of  solitude,  though 

i  r»rt«'m  «rhi«  Ppr«»  d'miprunt.  p«rtem  tPmpu«.  con- 
lomn-iif  et  Marpdn"um  npr>li<rpniia  ;  m»xim>  nmtqunm 
SP|PII<MI«  Nirntor  SHoiiriiim  art  Tiifrim  rondidit,  *tadii» 
inntiim  trecPnlin  a  Babvlone  dissitam.  Strnb.  I.  xvi  n. 
7?8. 

In  unlit ndinpm  redi't  eTnaanta  virinitate  PH"»nri».  oh  id 
eondit«e  a  Nimtorp  intra  nnnagenimum  (or  quadragegimum') 
bpidr-m  P'in  I.  vi  r.  2fi. 

»  Pro  illS  SoUariam  Pt  OtPniphnntPm  orbc«  Penarum  in- 
drl«j  fecerunt.  S.  Keren  in  cap.  xii.  1st. 


by  inr"; "»rt  means  and  without  using  any  violence, 
that  it  niiicht  more  manifestly  appear  to  be  the  hand 
of  God,  rather  than  the  hand  of  man,  which  b/ough* 
about  her  destruction. 

IV.  She  was  so  totally  forsaken,  that  nothing  of  her 
was   left  remaining  hut'the  walls.     And  to  this  con- 

|  dition  she  was   reduced  at   the  time  when  Pausamaa 
wrote  his   remarks   upon   Greece.3 
Ilia  autem  Babylon  omnium   quas         A.  D.  96. 
imqnam  sol  aspexit  urbivm  maxi- 
ma, jam  prtxter  muros  nihil  habet  religui.     Paus.  in 
A  read.  pag.  509. 

V.  The  kings  of  Persia  finding  their  place  desert- 
ed, made  a  park  of  it  in  which  they  kept  wild  beasts 
for  hunting.     Thus  did  it  become,  as  the  prophet  had 
foretold,  a  dwelling-place  for  ravenous  beasts,  that  ar» 
enemies  to  man:  or  for  timorous  animal*,  that  flee 
before  him.    Instead  of  citizens,  she  was  now  inhabited 
by  wild  boars,  leopards,  bears,  deer,  and  wild  asses. 
Babylon  was  now  the  retreat  of  fierce,  savage, deadly 
creatures,  that  hate  the  light,  and  delight  in  darkness. 
"  Wild  beasts  of  the  desert  shall  lie  there,  and  dra- 
gons shall  dwf II  in  their  pleasant  palaces."* 

St.  Jerome  has  transmitted  to  us 
the     following     valuable    remark         A.  D.  400. 
which  he  had  from  a  Persian  monk, 
that  he  himself  had  seen  what  he  had  related  to  him. 
Didicimiis  ii  qnodamfratre  Elamita,  qiti  de  illis  fini- 
biis  egrediens,ntinc  ffierosolymis  vitam  exisrit  man 
achontm,  venationes  regias  csse  in  Pabylone,  et  om- 
nis  generis  hestiat  miiromm  ejus  ambitn  tcmtum  con- 
tineri.     In  cap.  Isa.  xiii.  22. 

VI.  But  it  was  still  too  much  that  the  walls  of 
Babvlon  were  standing.     At  length  they  fell  down  in 
several  places,  and  were  never  repaired.    Various  ac- 
cidents destroyed  the  remainder.    The  animals,  which 
were  to  be  subservient  to  the  pleasure  of  the  Persian 
kings,  abandoned  the  place;  serpents  and   scorpions 
remained,  so  that  it  became  a  dreadful  place  for  per- 
sons that  should  have  the  curiosity  to  visit,  or  search 
after,  its  antiquities.  The  Euphrates,  that  used  to  run 
through  the  citv,  having  no  longer  a  free  channel,  took 
it*  course  another  way;  so  that  in  Theodoret's  time, 
there  was  nothing  more  than  a  very  stream  of  water 
left,5  which  ran  across  the  ruins,  and,  not  meeting 
with  a  slope  or  free  passage,  necessarily  degenerated 
into  a  marsh. 

In  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great,'  the  river  had 
quitted  its  ordinary  channel,  by  reason  of  the  outlets 
and  canals  which  Cyrus  had  made,  and  of  which  w« 
have  already  given  an  account;  the  outlets  being 
badly  stopped  up,  had  occasioned  a  great  inundation 
in  the  country.  Alexander,  designing  to  fix  the  seat 
of  his  empire  at  Babylon,  projected  the  brins-intr  back 
of  the  Euphrates  into  its  natural  and  former  channel, 
and  had  actually  set  his  men  to  woik.  But  the  Al- 
mighty, who  watched  over  the  fulfilling  of  his  pro- 
phecy, and  who  had  declared,  he  would  destroy  even 
to  the  very  remains  and  footsteps  of  Babylon  f"  I  will 
cut  oflf  from  Babylon  the  name  and  remnant,"]7  de- 
feated this  enterprise  by  the  death  of  Alexander,  which 
happened  soon  after.  It  is  easy  to  comprehen-l  how, 
after  this,  Babylon  being  neglected  to  such  a  degree 
as  we  have  seen,  its  river  was  converted  into  an  inac- 
cessible pool,  which  covered  the  very  place  where  that 
impious  city  had  stood,  as  Isaiah  had  foretold:  "I 
will  make  ft  pools  of  water."8  And  this  was  ne- 
cessary, lest  the  place  where  Babvlon  had  stood 
should  be  discovered  hereafter  by  the  course  of  the 
Euphrates. 

VII.  By  means  of  all   these  changes  Babylon  be- 
came an  utter  desert,  and  all  the  country  round    fell 
into  the  same  state  of  desolation  and  horror:  so  that 
the  most  able  geographers  at  this  daj  cannot  deter- 


•  TI»  wrote  in  the  reign  of  Antoninn»,  successor  to  Adrian. 
4  t«n.  xiii.21.  22. 

•  Euphrates  quondam  nrbpm  ipsam  nvdiam  dividcbat  ; 
none  autpm  flavins  converfu"  e«t   in  aliam  viam,   el  pp'  ru 
dprn   minima*  anuarum  mealm  fluit.     Tkeodor.  in  rap.  L 
Jerem   rpr.  38.  T9. 

•  Arrian.  d«  ezped.  Alex.  li.  viii 

'  In.  xiv.  22.  Ibid.  23 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


171 


nine  the  place  where  it  stood  '  In  thi«  manner  God's 
prediction  was  literally  fulfilled:  "I  will  cut  off"  from 
Lain  Ion  the  name — 1  will  make  it  a  possession  for  the 
bittern,  and  pools  of  water;  and  I  will  sweep  it  with 
the  besom  of  destruction,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts."2 
I  mvsell,  saith  the  Lord,  will  examine  with  a  jealous 
eye,'  to  see  if  there  be  any  remains  of  that  city,  which 
was  an  enemy  to  my  name  and  to  Jerusalem.  I  will 
thoroughly  sweep  the  place  where  it  stood,  and  will 
;Iear  it  so  effectually,  by  defacing  every  trace  of  the 
City,  that  no  person  shall  be  able  to  preserve  the  me- 
mory of  the  place  chosen  by  Nimrod,  and  which  I, 
the  Lord,  have  abolished.  "I  will  sweep  it  with  the 
besom  of  destruction,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

VIII  God  was  not  satisfied  with  causing  all  these 
alterations  to  be  foretold,  but,  to  give  the  greater  as- 
•urar.ee  of  their  ceitainty,  thought  fit  to  seal  the  pre- 
diction of  them  by  an  oath.  "The  Lord  of  hosts 
hath  sworn,  saying,  Surely,  AS  I  have  thought,  so 
•hall  it  come  to  pass;  and  as  I  have  purposed,  so  shall 
it  stand."*  But  if  we  would  take  this  dreadful  oath 
in  its  full  latitude,  we  must  not  confine  it  either  to 
Babylon  or  to  its  inhabitants,  or  to  the  princes  that 
reigned  therein.  The  malediction  relates  to  the 
whole  world:  it  is  the  general  anathema  pronounced 
against  the  wicked;  it  is  the  terrible  decree,  by  which 
the  two  cities  of  Babylon  and  Jerusalem  shall  be  sepa- 
rated for  ever,  and  an  eternal  divorce  be  put  between 
the  saints  and  the  reprobate.  The  Scriptures  that 
have  foretold  it,  shall  subsist  till  the  day  of  its  execu- 
tion. The  sentence  is  written  therein,  and  deposited, 
as  it  were,  in  the  public  archives  of  religion.  "  The 
Lord  of  hosts  hath  sworn,  saying.  As  I  have  thought, 
so  shall  it  come  to  pass;  and  as  I  have  purposed,  so 
shall  it  stand." 

What  I  have  said  of  this  prophecy  concerning 
Babylon  is  almost  entirely  taken  out  of  an  excellent 
treatise  upon  Isaiah,  which  is  still  in  manuscript.4 

SECTION    IV.— WHAT  FOLLOWED  UPON  THE   TA- 
KING OF   BABYLON. 

CYRUS,5  having  entered  the  city  in  the  manner  we 
have  described,  put  all  to  the  sword  that  were  found 
in  the  streets:  he  then  commanded  the  citizens  to 
bring  him  all  their  arms,  and  afterwards  to  shut  them- 
selves up  in  their  houses.  The  next  morning,  by 
break  of  day,  the  garrison  which  kept  the  citadel  being 


i  Nunc  omnino  destructa,  ita  nt  vix  ejus  gupcrsint  mile- 
fa.  Baudrund. 

«  ISH.  xiv.  i2-.'.i3.  i  Ibid.  24. 

«  Riih> Inn  stood  in  n  large  plain,  ?5  English  miles  south 
of  i  In-  ancient  wall  of  Media,  mentioned  by  Xcnophon  and 
Strabo  in  direct  distance.  This  wa"  ran  across  tlic  narrow- 
est part  of  the  isthmus  formed  by  the  approximation  of  these 
two  rivers,  separating  the  "real  plain  of  Babylon,  or  Baby- 
lonia, from  the  upper  part  of  the  intermediate  tract  watered 
by  tin'*-  two  streams.  \Ve  are  not  ahle  to  determine  exact- 
ly tin'  circumference  and  extent  of  ancient  Bn  by  Ion.  so  as  to 
decide  with  precision  and  accuracy  its  dimensions,  and  which 
of  those  various  statements  of  I'erodotus.  Pliny,  Strabo, 
Snlinus.  (Mesial",  Diodorus,  Cletarchus,  and  Curtius,  are  cor- 
rect. The  reason  is.  that  no  remains  of  the  wall  and  ditch 
that  surrounded  the  city  are  now  traceable.  Untraeeable, 
however,  as  the  walls  now  are,  traces  of  the  ancient  rity 
commence  at  two  canals,  running  east  and  west  immediate- 
ly to  the  south  of  the  village  of  Mahowil,  a  little  cast  of  the 
eastern  hank  of  the  Euphrates.  One  of  these  canals  is  crocs 
•d  hv  a  brick  bridge.  As  soon  as  this  bridge  is  crossed,  the 
x  .it'  the  great  city  pr<  sent  themselves  to  the  eye  of 

the  inquisitive  traveller.  He  N  gradually  conducted  to  those 
immense  tumuli,  or  mounds  of  templed,  palaces,  and  biirrmn 
Habitations  ofevery  kind,  now  buried  in  shapi-len*  heaps,  and 
a  silencp  profound  as  that  of  the  tomb.  It  is  im|>ossilili-  nut 
to  lie  struck  with  solemn  awe  in  thus  passim,  a*  it  were  in- 
to the  Dili's  of  "  Fallen  Babylon."  From  this  bridge  all  the 
way  to  Hillah,  a  distance  of  full  twelve  miles,  following  the 
eoutseof  the  stream,  the  remains  of  Biihylon  may  be  traced 
At  th<-  d:stnnce  of  six  miles  west  of  the  Euphrates  stands 
the  immense  ruin  of  the  Birs  Nimroud.  or  the  ancient  tern- 
pie  of  Belu<.  [f  we  tidmit  nn  equal  extent  to  the  east  of  tho 
Euphrates,  the  mcnsurex  of  Herodotun  are  fully  justified, 
who  assiL'ned  to  the  ancient  cilv  a  spnce  of  4M)  stadia,  form- 
in?  a  ]<•  rfect  snuare  of  120  stndia.  whicn.  allowing  ten  stadia 
lo  a  mile,  mnkes  each  side  of  the  square  twelve  miles  in 
enyili.  thus  covering  a  superficies  of  144  square  milei,  or 
toore  than  nine  times  the  area  of  London. 

•  Oyr<  p.  1.  vii.  (i.  192. 


apprised  that  the  city  was  taken, and  their  ku,g  killed, 
surrendered  themselves  to  Cyrus.  Thus  did  this 
prince,  almost  without  striking  a  blow,  and  without 
any  resistance,  find  himself  in  peaceable  possession 
of  the  strongest  place  in  the  world. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was,  to  thank  the  gods  for  the 
success  they  had  given  him.  And  then,  having  as- 
sembled his  principal  officers,  he  publicly  applauded 
their  courage  and  prudence,  their  zeal  and  attachment 
to  his  person,  and  distributed  rewards  to  his  whole 
army.'  After  which  he  represented  to  them,  that  the 
only  means  of  preserving  what  they  had  acquired  wa» 
to  persevere  in  their  ancient  virtue;  that  the  proper 
end  of  victory  was  not  to  give  themselves  up  to  idle- 
ness and  pleasure;  that,  after  having  conquered  their 
enemies  by  for'.e  of  arms,  it  would  be  shameful  to  suf- 
fer themselvf*  to  be  overcome  by  the  allurements  of 
pleasure;  t^  at,  in  order  to  maintain  their  ancient  glo- 
ry, it  behoved  them  to  keep  up  amongst  the  Persians 
at  Babylon  the  same  discipline  they  had  observed  in 
their  own  country,  and  for  that  purpose,  to  take  par- 
ticular care  to  give  their  children  a  good  education. 
This  (says  he)  will  necessarily  engage  us  daily  to 
make  further  advances  in  virtue,  as  it  will  oblige  us 
to  be  diligent  and  careful  in  setting  them  good  ex- 
amples: nor  will  it  be  easy  for  thwn  to  be  corrupted, 
when  they  shall  neither  hear  nor  see  any  thine 
amongst  us,  but  what  excites  them  to  virtue,  and 
shall  be  continually  employed  in  honourable  and 
laudable  exercises. 

Cyrus  committed  the  different  parts  and  offices  of 
his  government  to  different  persons,  according  to  their 
various  talents  and  qualifications;7  but  the  care  of 
forming  and  appointing  general  officers,  governors  of 
provinces,  ministers  and  ambassadors,  he  reserved  to 
himself,  looking  upon  that  as  the  proper  duty  and  em- 
ployment of  a  king,  upon  which  depended  his  glory, 
the  success  of  his  affairs,  and  the  happiness  and  tran- 
quillity of  his  kingdom.  His  great  talent  was  to  study 
tne  particular  character  of  mtn,  in  order  to  place  every 
one  in  his  proper  sphere,  to  give  them  authority  in 
proportion  to  their  merit,  to  make  their  private  ad- 
vancement concur  with  the  public  good,  and  to  make 
the  whole  machine  of  the  state  move  in  so  regular  a 
manner,  that  every  part  should  have  a  dependence 
upon,  and  mutually  contribute  to  support  each  other; 
and  that  the  strength  of  one  should  not  exert  itself 
but  for  the  benefit  and  advantage  of  the  rest.  Each 
person  had  his  district,  and  his  particular  sphere  of 
business,  of  which  he  gave  an  account  to  another  above 
him,  and  he  again  to  a  third,  and  so  on,  till,  by  these 
different  degrees,  and  regular  subordination,  the  cog- 
nizance of  affairs  came  to  the  king  himself,  who  did 
not  remain  idle  in  the  midst  cf  all  this  mot  ion,  but  was, 
as  it  were,  the  soul  to  the  body  of  the  state,  which,  by 
this  means,  he  governed  with  as  much  ease  as  a  father 
governs  his  private  family. 

When  he  afterwards  sent  governors,  railed  satra- 
pce?  into  the  province*  under  his  subjection,  he  would 
not  suffer  the  particular  governors  of  places,  nor  the 
commanding  officers  of  the  troops  maintained  for  the 
security  of  the  country,  to  be  dependent  upon  those 
provincial  governors,  or  to  be  subject  to  any  one  out 
himself;  in  that,  if  any  of  these  salrnpee,  elate  with  hit 
power  or  riches,  made  an  ill  use  of  his  authority,  there 
might  be  found  witnesses  and  censors  of  his  mal-ad- 
ininistration  within  his  own  government.  For  there 
was  nothing  he  so  carefully  avoided,  as  the  trusting 
of  any  one  man  with  absolute  power,  well  knowing 
that  a  prince  will  quickly  have  reason  to  repent  of 
having  exalted  one  person  so  high,  if  all  others  are 
thereby  abused  and  kept  under. 

Thus  Cyrus  established  a  wonderful  order  with 
respect  to  his  military  affairs,  his  treasury,  and  civil 
government.  In  all  tne  provinces  he  had  persons  of 
approved  integrity,9  who  gave  him  an  account  of  ev- 
ery thing  that  passed.  He  made  it  his  principal  care 
to"  honour  and  reward  all  those  that  distinguished 
themselves  by  their  merit,  or  were  eminent  in  any 


«  Cvrop.  1.  Tii.  p.  197,  200. 
Ibid.  1.  viii.  p.  m 


t  Ibid. 

>  Ibid.  p.  809. 


172 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


respect  whatever  He  infinitely  preferred  clemency 
lo  martial  ciurage,  because  the  latter  is  often  the  cause 
of  ruin  and  desolation  to  whole  nations,  whereas  the 
former  is  always  beneficent  and  useful.  He  was 
lensible  that  good  laws  contribute  very  much  to  the 
forming  and  preserving  of  good  manners;1  but  in  his 
opinion,  the  prince  by  his  example  was  to  be  a  living 
law  to  his  people.  Nor  did  he  think  a  man  worthy 
to  reign  over  others,2  unless  he  was  more  wise  and 
virtuous  than  those  he  governed:  he  was  also  per- 
suaded,8 that  the  surest  means  fora  prince  to  gain  the 
respect  of  his  courtiers,  and  of  such  as  approached  his 
{<er*on,  was  to  have  so  much  regard  for  them,  as  never 
to  do  or  say  any  thing  before  them,  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  decency  and  good  manners. 

Liberality  he  looked  upon  as  a  virtue  truly  royal ;< 
nor  did  he  think  there  was  any  thing  great  or  valuable 
in  riches,  but  the  pleasure  of  distributing  them  to 
others.  "  I  have  prodigious  riches,"5  says  he  to  his 
courtiers,  "  I  own,  and  I  am  glad  the  world  knows  it: 
but  you  may  assure  yourselves,  they  are  as  much 
yours  as  mine.  For  to  what  end  should  I  henp  up 
wealth?  For  my  own  use,  and  to  consume  it  myself? 
That  would  be  impossible,  even  if  I  desired  it. "  No: 
the  chief  end  I  aim  at  is  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  re- 
ward those  who  serve  the  public  faithfully,  and  to 
succour  and  relieve  those  that  will  acquaint  me  with 
their  wants  and  necessities." 

Croesus  one  day  represented  to  him,6  that  by  con- 
tinual largesses  he  would  at  last  make  himself  poor, 
whereas  he  might  have  amassed  infinite  treasures, 
and  have  been  the  richest  prince  in  the  world.  "  And 
to  what  sum,"  replied  Cyrus,  "  do  you  think  those 
treasures  might  have  amounted?"  Croesus  named  a 
certain  sum  which  was  immensely  great.  Cyrus 
thereupon  ordered  a  short  note  to  "be  written  to  the 
lords  of  his  court,  in  which  it  was  signified  to  them 
that  he  had  occasion  for  money.  Immediately  a  much 
larger  sum  was  brought  to  him"  than  Crnesus  nad  men- 
tioned. '•  Look  here,"  says  Cyrus  to  him,  "  here  are 
my  treasures;  the  chests  I'keep  my  riches  in,  are  the 
hearts  and  affection  of  my  subjects." 

But  much  as  he  esteemed  liberality,  he  laid  a  still 
greater  stress  upon  kindness  and  condescension,  affa- 
bility and  humanity,  which  are  qualities  still  more 
engaging,  and  more  apt  to  acquire  the  affection  of  a 
people,  which  is  properly  to  reign.  For  a  prince  to 
be  more  generous  than  others  in  giving,  when  he  is 
infinitely  more  rich  than  they,  has  nothing  in  it  so 
surprising  or  extraordinary,  as  lo  descend  in  a  manner 
from  the  throne,  and  to  put  himself  upon  a  level  with 
his  subjects. 

But  what  Cyrus  preferred  to  all  other  things,  was 
the  worship  of  the  gods,  and  a  respect  for  religion.1? 
Upon  this  therefore  he  thought  himself  obliged  to  be- 
itow  his  first  and  principal  care,  as  soon  as  he  became 
more  at  leisure,  and  more  master  of  his  time,  by  the 
conquest  of  Babylon.  He  befjan  by  establishing  a 
number  of  Magi,  to  sing  daily  a  morning  service  of 
praise  to  the  honour  of  the  go.ls,  and  to  offer  sacri- 
fices: which  was  always  practued  amongst  them  in 
succeeding  ages. 

The  prince's  disposition  quickly  became,  as  is 
usual  the  prevailing  disposition  among  his  people; 
an  I  hi*  example  became  the  rule  of  their  conduct. 
The  Persians,  who  saw  that  Cyrus's  reign  had  been 
but  one  continued  chain  and  series  of  prosperity  and 
•uc«.es«.  believed  that  by  serving  the  gods  as  he  did, 
they  should  r.e  blessed  with  the  like  happiness  and 
prosnerity  :  besides,  they  were  sensible  it  was  the 
surest  way  to  please  their  prince,  an  !  to  make  their 
court  to  him  successfully.  Cyrus,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  extremely  gla-l  to  find  them  have  such  senti- 
ments, being  convinced,  that  whosoever  sincerely 
fears  and  worships  God.  will  at  the  same  time  be 
faithful  to  his  kin<r,  and  preserve  an  inviolable  attach- 
ment to  hi«  person,  and  to  the  welfare  of  the  state. 
All  lhi«  is  excellent,  but  is  only  true  and  real  in  the 
Iruo  religion. 


»  Hvron.  I.  viii.  p.  204. 
«  Ih.  -m.  4 


•  Ib. 210 


« 'ih.  200. 
t  Ib.  204 


»  Ib.  ]«.  205. 

«  Ib.  225. 


Cyrus,  being  resolved  to  establish  his  clue*  resv 
dence  at  Babylon,8  a  powerful  city,  which  could  not 
be  very  well  affected  to  him,  thought  it  necessary  to 
be  more  cautious  than  he  had  been  hitherto,  in  regard 
to  the  safety  of  his  person.  The  most  dangerous 
hours,  for  princes  within  their  palaces,  and  the  most 
likely  for  treasonable  attempts  upon  their  livt<,  are 
those  of  bathing,  eating,  and  sleeping.  He  determined 
therefore  to  suffer  nobody  to  be  near  him  at  those 
times,  but  such  persons  on  whose  fidelity  he  could  ab- 
solutely rely;  and  on  this  account  he  thought  eunuchs 
preferable  to  all  others;  because,  as  they  had  neither 
wives,  children,  nor  families,  and  besides  were  gener- 
ally despised  on  account  of  the  meanness  of  their  birth 
and  the  ignominy  of  their  condition,  they  were  enga- 
ged by  every  consideration  to  attach  themselves  solely 
to  their  masters,  on  whose  life  their  whole  fortune  de- 
pended, and  on  whose  account  alone  it  was,  that  they 
possessed  either  wealth  or  consequence.  Cyrus  there* 
An.  .-ted  all  the  offices  of  his  household  to  eu- 

nuchs: and  this  practice,  which  was  not  unknown  be- 
fore his  time,  from  thenceforth  became  the  general 
custom  of  all  the  eastern  countries. 

It  is  well  known,  that  in  alter  times  it  prevailed  also 
amongst  the  Roman  emperors,  with  whom  the  eunuchs 
were  the  reigning  all-powerful  favourites;  nor  is  it 
any  wonder.  It  was  very  natural  for  the  prince,  after 
having  confided  his  person  to  their  care,  and  experi- 
enced their  zeal,  fidelity,  and  merit,  to  intrust  them 
also  with  the  management  of  some  public  business, 
and  by  degrees  to  give  himself  up  to  them.  These 
expert  courtiers  knew  how  to  improve  those  favoura- 
ble moments,  when  sovereigns,  delivered  from  the 
weight  of  their  dignity,  which  is  a  burden  to  them, 
become  men,  and  familiarize  themselves  with  their  offi- 
cers. And  by  this  policy,  having  got  possession  of 
their  masters'  minds  and  confidence,  they  came  to 
possess  great  influence  at  court,  to  have  the  adminis- 
tration of  public  affairs,  and  the  disposal  of  employ- 
ments and  honours,  and  to  arrive  themselves  at  the 
highest  offices  and  dignities  of  the  state. 

But  the  good  emperors,9  such  as  Alexander  Sere- 
rus,  held  the  eunuchs  in  abhorrence,  looking  upon 
them  as  creatures  sold  and  attached  only  to  their  for- 
tune, and  enemies  by  principle  to  the  public  good; 
persons,  whose  sole  view  was  to  get  possession  of  th« 
prince's  mind,  to  conceal  the  knowledge  of  public 
business  as  much  as  possible  from  him,  to  preclude 
access  to  him  from  -any  person  of  real  merit,  and  to 
keep  him  shut  up  and  imprisoned,  in  a  manner,  with- 
in the  narrow  circle  of  three  or  four  officers,  who  had 
an  entire  ascendant  and  dominion  over  him;  Clau- 
dentes principcm  suum.  et  agentes  ante  omnia  ne  quid 
sciat. 

When  Cyrus  had  established  his  regulations  in 
every  thing  relating  to  the  government,10  he  resolved 
to  show  himself  publicly  to  his  own  people,  and  to  his 
newly  conquered  subjects,  in  a  solemn,  august  cere- 
mony of  religion,  by  marching  in  a  pompous  cavalcade 
to  th'e  places  conse'crated  to  the  gods  in  order  to  offer 
sacrifices  to  them.  In  this  procession  Cyrus  thought 
fit  to  display  all  possible  splendour  and  magnificence, 
to  catch  and  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  people.  This  was 
the  first  time  that  prince  ever  aimed  at  procuring  re- 
spect towards  himself,  not  only  by  the  attractions  of 
virtue  (says  the  historian,)  but  by  such  an  external 
pomp  as  was  calculated  to  attract  the  multitude,  and 
work  like  a  charm  or  enchantment  upon  their  imagi- 
nations.11 He  ordered  the  superior  officers  of  the 
Persians  and  allies  to  attend  him,  and  gave  each  of 
them  a  dress  after  the  Median  fashion;  that  is  to  say, 
long  robes,  which  hung  down  to  the  feet.  These 
were  of  various  colours,  all  of  the  finest  and  brightest 
dye,  and  richly  embroidered  with  gold  and  silver. 
B'esides  those  that  were  for  themselves,  he  gave  them 
others,  very  splendid  also,  but  less  costly,  to  present 
to  the  subaltern  officers.  It  was  on  this  occasion  lh« 
Persians  first  dressed  themselves  after  the  manner  of 


•  Orrop.  l.vii.  p.  1%. 

•  LamprM   in  vila  .\\cv.  Sever. 
'•  f'yrop.  I.  viii   p.  213,  220. 

»  'Axxx  mi  «»T»^ci(rivii»  KIT* 


nvTt*| 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


173 


ihe  Mede?,1  and  began  to  imitate  them  in  colouring 
their  eyes,  to  make  them  appear  more  sparkling,  and 
in  painting  their  faces,  in  order  to  enliven  their  com- 
plexions. 

When  the  day  appointed  for  the  ceremony  was 
come,  the  whole  company  assembled  at  the  king's 
palace  by  break  of  day.  Four  thousand  of  the  guards, 
drawn  up  four  deep,  placed  themselves  in  front  ol  the 
palace,  and  2000  on  the  two  sides  of  it  ranged  in  the 
lame  order.  The  whole  cavalry  were  also  drawn  out, 
the  Persians  on  the  right,  and  that  of  the  allies  on  the 
left.  The  chariots  of  war  were  ranged  half  on  one 
side,  end  half  on  the  other.  As  soon  as  the  palace 
gates  were  opened,  a  great  number  of  bulls  of  exqui- 
site beauty  were  led  out  by  four  and  four:  these  were 
to  be  sacrificed  to  Jupiter  and  the  other  gods,  accord- 
ing to  the  ceremonies  prescribed  by  the  Magi.  Next 
followec-  the  horses  that  were  to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
Sun.  Immediately  after  them  a  white  chariot,  crown- 
ed with  flowers,  the  pole  of  which  was  gilt  :  this 
was  to  be  offered  to  Jupiter.  Then  came  a  second 
chariot  of  the  same  colour,  and  adorned  in  the  same 
manner,  to  be  offered  to  the  Sun.  After  these  follow- 
ed a  third,  the  horses  of  which  were  caparisoned  with 
scarlet  housings.  Behind  came  the  men  who  carried 
the  sacred  fire  on  a  large  hearth.  When  all  these 
were  upon  their  march,  Cyrus  himself  began  to  appear 
upon  his  car,  with  his  upright  tiara  upon  his  head, 
encircled  with  a  royal  diadem.  His  under  tunic  was 
of  purple  mixed  with  white,  which  was  a  colour  pe- 
culiar to  kings.  Over  his  other  garments  he  wore  a 
large  purple  cloak.  His  hands  were  uncovered.  A 
little  below  him  sat  his  master  of  the  horse,  who  was 
of  a  comely  stature,  but  not  so  tall  as  Cyrus,  for 
which  reason  the  height  of  the  latter  appeared  still 
more  advantageously.  As  soon  as  the  people  per- 
ct-ived  the  prince,  they  all  fell  prostrate  before  him, 
and  worshipped  him;  whether  it  was,  that  certain 
persons  appointed  on  purpose,  and  placed  at  proper 
distances,  led  others  on  by  their  example,  or  that  the 
people  were  moved  to  do  it  of  their  own  accord,  being 
struck  with  the  appearance  of  so  much  pomp  and 
magnificence,  and  with  so  many  awful  circumstances 
of  majesty  and  splendour.  The  Persians  had  never 
prostraleel  themselves  in  this  manner  before  Cyrus, 
till  on  this  occasion. 

Whrn  Cyrus's  chariot  was  come  out  of  the  palace, 
the  4000  guards  began  to  march  :  the  other  2000 
moved  at  the  same  time,  and  placed  themselves  on 
each  side  of  the  chariot.  The  eunuchs,  or  great  offi- 
cers of  the  king's  household,  to  the  number  of  300, 
richly  clad,  with  javelins  in  their  hands,  and  mounted 
upon  stately  horses,  marched  immediately  after  the 
chariot.  A'fter  them  followed  200  led  ho'rses  of  the 
king's  stable,  each  of  them  having  embroidered  fur- 
niture and  bits  of  gold.  Next  came  the  Persian  caval- 
ry, divided  into  four  bodies,  each  consisting  of  10,000 
men;  then  the  Median  horse,  and  after  those  the  ca- 
valry of  the  allies.  The  chariots  of  war,  four  abreast, 
closed  the  procession. 

When  they  came  to  the  fields  consecrated  to  the 
gods,  they  offered  their  sacrifices  first  to  Jupiter,  and 
then  to  the  Sun.  To  ihe  honour  of  the  first  were  burnt 
bulls,  and  to  the  honour  of  the  second,  horses.  They 
likewise  sacrificed  some  victims  to  the  Karth  accord- 
ing to  the  appointment  of  the  Magi:  then  to  the  demi- 
gods, the  patrons  and  protectors  of  Syria.2 

In  order  to  afford  the  people  some  recreation  after 
this  grave  and  solemn  ceremony,  Cyrus  thought  fit 
that  it  should  conclude  with  games',  and  horse  and 
chariot-races.  The  place  where  they  were  was  large 
and  spacious.  He  ordered  a  certain"  portion  of  it  to 
be  marked  out,  about  five  stadia,8  and  proposed  prizes 
for  the  victors  of  each  nation,  which  were  to  encoun- 
ter separately  and  among  themselves.  He  himself 
won  the  prize  in  the  Persian  horse-races,  for  nobody 
was  so  complete  a  horseman  as  he.  The  chariots  ran 
out  two  at  a  time,  one  against  another. 

This  kind  of  procession  continued  a  long  time  af- 

i  Cyrnp.  I.  viii.  p.  206. 

•  Among  the  ancient*.  Syria  is  often  p«t  tor  Anrria. 

•  A  little  above  half  a  mite. 


terwardi  tmongst  the  Persians,  except  only  that  it 
was  not  always  attended  with  sacrifices.  All  the 
ceremonies  bting  ended,  they  returned  to  the  city  in 
the  same  order. 

Some  days  after,*  Cyrus,  to  celebrate  the  victory  he 
had  obtained  in  the  horse-races,  gave  a  great  enter- 
tainment to  all  the  chief  officers,  as  well  foreigners  as 
Medes  and  Persians.  They  had  never  yet  seen  any 
thing  of  the  kind  so  sumptuous  and  magnificent.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  feast  he  made  every  one  a  noble 
present;  so  that  they  all  went  home  with  hearts  over- 
flowing^ with  joy,  admiration,  and  gratitude:  and  all- 
powerlul  as  he  was,  master  of  all  the  East,  and  so 
many  kingdoms,  he  did  not  think  it  derogatory  to  his 
majesty  to  conduct  the  whole  company  to  the  door 
of  his  apartment.  Such  were  the  manners  of  those 
ancient  times,  when  men  understood  how  to  unite 
great  simplicity  with  the  highest  degree  of  human 
grandeur. 

ARTICLE  III. 

THE    HISTORY    OF   CYRUS,    FROM    THE   TAKING   OF 

BABYLON  TO  THE  TIME  OF  HIS  DEATH. 
Cyrus,  finding  himself  master  of  all  the  East  by  the 
taking  of  Babylon,  did  not  imitate  the  example  of 
most  other  conquerors,  who  sully  the  glory  of  their 
victories  by  a  voluptuous  and  effeminate  life:  to  which 
they  fancy  they  may  justly  abandon  themselves  after 
their  past  toils,  and  the  long  course  ot  hardships  they 
have  gone  through.  He  thought  it  incumbent  upon 
him  to  maintain  his  reputation  by  the  same  methods 
he  had  acquired  it,  that  is,  by  a  prudent  conduct,  by 
a  laborious  and  active  life,  and  a  constant  application 
to  the  duties  of  his  high  station. 

SECTION  I.— CTHUS  TAKES  A  JOURNEY  INTO  PER 
SIA.  AT  HIS  RETURN  FROM  THENCE  TO  BABY- 
LON, HE  FORMS  A  PLAN  OF  GOVERNMENT  FOR 
THE  WHOLE  EMPIRE.  DANIEL'S  CREDIT  AND 
POWER. 

WHEN  Cyrus  judged  he  had  sufficiently  regulated 
his  affairs  at  Bab}  Ion,5  he  thought  proper  to  take  a 
journey  into  Persia.  In  his  way  thither  he  went 
througn  Media,  to  visit  his  uncle  Cyaxaies,  to  whom 
he  carried  very  magnificent  presents,  telling  him  at 
the  same  time  that  he  would  find  a  noble  palace  at 
Babylon,  all  ready  prepared  for  him,  whenever  he 
would  please  to  go  thither;  and  that  he  was  to  look 
upon  that  city  as  his  own.  Indeed  Cyrus,  as  long  as 
his  uncle  lived,  held  the  empire  only  in  co-partner- 
ship with  him,  though  he  had  en- 
tirely conquered  and  acquired  it  by  A.  M.  3466. 
his  own  valour.  Nay,  so  far  did  he  Ant.  J.  C.  538. 
carry  his  complaisance,  that  he  let 
his  uncle  enjoy  the  first  rank.  It  is  Cyaxares  who  is 
called  in  Scripture  Darius  the  Mede;  and  we  shall 
find,  that  under  his  reign,  which  lasted  but  two  years, 
Daniel  had  several  revelations.  It  appears  that  Cy- 
rus, when  he  returned  from  Persia,  carried  Cyaxares 
with  him  to  Babylon. 

When  they  were  arrived  there,  they  concerted  to- 
gether a  scheme  of  government  for  the  whole  empire. 
Thev  divided  it  into  120  provinces.*  And  that  the 
prince's  orders  might  he  conveyed  with  the  greater 
expedition.7  Cyrus  caused  posthouses  to  be  erected  at 
proper  distances,  where  the  courtiers  that  travelled 
day  and  night,  found  horses  always  ready,  and  by  that 
mentis  performed  their  journeys  with  incredible  des- 
patch. The  government  of  these  provinces  was  given 
to  those  persons  that  had  assisted  Cyrus  most,8  and 
rendered  him  the  greatest  service  in  the  war.  Over 
these  governors  were  appointed  three  superintend- 
ent*,9 who  were  always  to  reside  at  court,  and  to  whom 
the  governors  were  to  give  an  account  from  time  to 
time  of  every  thing  that  passed  in  their  respective 
provinces,  and  from  whom  they  were  to  receive  th« 
prince's  orders  and  instructions:  to  that  these  three 
principal  ministers  had  the  superintendency  ovi-r,  and 
the  chief  administration  of,  the  affairs  of  the  wbr  * 


4  Cyrop.  1.  riii.  p.  230— 234.  •  fb. ;    XT. 

•  Dan.  ri.  J.  «  Cyrop.  1.  viii.  p.  21  .. 

•  Ibid  p.  230.  •  Pan.  ri.  2.  3. 

rZ 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


empire.  Of  these  thiee,  Daniel  was  made  the  chief. 
He  hi »til v  deserved  such  a  preference,  not  only  on 
arcounl  of  his  great  wisdom,  which  was  celebrated 
throughout  all  the  East,  and  had  been  displayed  in  a 
distinguished  manner  at  Belshazzar's  feast,  b'ut  like- 
wise on  account  of  his  great  age  and  consummate  ex- 
perience; for  at  that  time  it  was  full  sixty-seven  years, 
i::7i  the  fourth  of  IVabuchodonosor,  that  hehaJ  been 
employed  as  prime  minister  of  the  kings  of  Babylon. 
As  this  distinction  made  him  the  second  person  in 
the  empire,1  and  placed  him  immediately  under  the 
kin:;,  the  other  courtiers  conceived  so  great  a  jealousy 
of  him,  that  they  conspired  to  destroy  him.  As  there 
was  no  hoi  I  to  be  taken  of  him,  unless  it  were  on  ac- 
count of  the  law  of  his  God,  to  which  they  knew  him 
inviolably  attached,  they  obtained  an  edict  from  Da- 
rius, whereby  all  persons  were  forbidden  to  ask  any 
thing  whatsoever,  for  the  space  of  thirty  days,  either 
of  any  god  or  any  man,  save  of  the  king;  and  that 
upon  pain  of  being  cast  into  the  den  of  lions.  Now, 
as  Daniel  was  saying  his  usual  prayers,  with  his  face 
turned  towards  Jerusalem,  he  was*  surprised,  accused, 
and  cast  into  the  den  of  lions.  But  being  miraculously 
preserved,  and  coming  out  safe  and  unhurt,  hi-  accu- 
sers were  thrown  in,  and  immediately  devoured  by 
those  animals.  This  event  still  augmented  Daniel's 
credit  and  reputation. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  same  year,*  which  was  reck- 
oned the  first  of  Darius  the  Mede,  Daniel  knowing 
by  the  computation  he  made,  that  the  seventy  years 
of  Judah's  captivity,  determined  bv  the  prophet  Jere- 
miah, were  drawing  towards  an  end,  prayed  earnestly 
to  God  that  he  would  vouchsafe  to  remember  his  peo- 
ple, rebuild  Jerusalem,  and  look  with  an  eye  of  mercy 
upon  his  holy  city,  and  the  sanctuary  he  had  placed 
therein.  Upon  which  the  angel  Gabriel  assured  him 
in  a  vision,  not  only  of  the  deliverance  of  the  Jews 
from  their  temporal  captivity. .but  likewise  of  another 
deliverance,  much  more  considerable,  namely,  a  de- 
liverance from  the  bondage  of  sin  and  Satan,  which 
God  would  procure,  to  his  church,  and  which  was  to 
be  accomplished  at  the  end  of  seventy  week?,  that 
were  to  elapse  from  the  time  the  order  should  be 
^'ven  for  the  rebuilding  of  Jerusalem,  that  is,  after  the 
iace  of  490  years.  For  taking  each  day  for  a  year, 
according  to  the  language  used  sometimes  in  Holy 
Scripture,  those  seventy  weeks  of  years,  made  up  ex 
actly  490  years. 

Cyrus,3  upon  his  return  to  Babylon,  had  given  or- 
ders for  all  his  forces  to  join  him  there.  On  the  gen- 
eral review  made  of  them,  he  found  they  consisted  of 
120,000  horse,  of  2000  chariots  armed  with  scythes 
anH  600.000  foot.  When  he  had  furnished  the 'garri- 
sons with  so  many  of  them  as  were  necessary  for  the 
defence  of  the  several  parts  of  the  empire,  he  march- 
ed with  the  remainder  into  Syria,  where  he  regulatec 
the  affairs  of  that  province,  and  then  subdued  all  those 
countries  as  far  as  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  confines  o' 
Ethiopia. 

It  was  probably  in  this  interval  of  time,  that  Danie 
was  cast  into  the  den  of  lions,  and  miraculously  de 
livered  from  them,  as  we  have  iust  now  related. 

Perhaps  in  the  same  interval  also  were  those  fa 
mous  pieces  of  gold  coined,  which  are  called  Darics 
from  the  name  of  Darius  the  Mede,  which  for  their 
fineness  and  beauty  were  forseverd  ages  preferred  to 
all  other  money  throughout  the  whole  East. 

SECTION  II. — THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  UNITED 
EMPIRE  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND  MEDE8.  THE  FA 
MOUS  EDICT  OF  CYRUS.  DANIEL'S  PROPHECIES. 

HERE,  properly  speaking,  begins  the  empire  of  the 
Persians  and  Medes  united  under  one  and  the  same 
authority.  This  empire,  from  Cyrus,  the  first  king  anc 
founder  of  it,  to  Darius  Codomannus,  who  was  van 
quished  by  Alexander  the  Great,  lasted  for  the  space 
of  206  years,  namely,  from  the  year  of  the  world  3461 
to  the  year  3674.  But  in  this  volume  I  propose  to 
sppak  only  of  the  first  three  kings;  and  little  remains 
to  be  said  of  the  founder  of  this  new  empire. 


D«n.  »i.  4— VI 
Cjrop.  1  viii.  333. 


•  Ib.  ir.  1—27. 


CYRUS.     Cyaxares  dying  at  tte 
end  of  two  years,  and   Ca.nbyse*  A.  M.  3468 

ikewise  ending  his  days  in  Persia,       Ant.  J.  C.  536 
Dyrus  returned    to    Babylon,    and 
:ook  upon  him  the  government  of  the  empire. 

The  years  of  Cyrus's  reign  are  computed  differeni- 
v.*  Some  make  it  thirty  years,  beginning  from  hit 
irst  setting  out  from  Persia,  at  the  head  of  an  army, 
:o  succour  his  uncle  Cyaxares:  others  make  it  to  be 
}ut  seven  years,  because  they  date  it  or.ly  from  the 
lime,  when,  by  the  death  of  Cyaxares  and  Cambyses. 
le  became  sole  monarch  of  the  whole  empire. 

In  the  first  of  these  seven  years  precisely  expired 
the  seventieth  year  of  the  Babylonish  captivity,  when 
Cyrus  published  the  famous  edict  whereby  the  Jewi 
were  permitted  to  return  to  Jerusalem.  There  is  no 
question  but  this  edict  was  obtained  by  the  care  and 
solicitations  of  Daniel,  who  possessed  great  influence 
at  court.  That  he  might  the  more  effectually  induct 
the  king  to  grant  him  this  request,  he  showed  him 
undoubtedly  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah,5  wherein,  abovt 
200  years  before  his  birth,  he  was  marked  out  bj 
name  as  a  prince  appointed  by  God  to  be  a  great  con 
queror,  and  to  reduce  a  multitude  of  nations  undei 
hi?  dominion;  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  be  the  deliv- 
erer of  the  captive  Jews,  by  ordering  their  temple  tc 
be  rebuilt,  and  Jerusalem  and  Judea  to  be  repossessec 
by  their  ancient  inhabitants.  I  think  it  may  not  bi 
improper  in  this  place  to  insert  that  edict  at  length, 
which  is  certainly  the  most  glorious  circumstance  it 
the  life  of  Cyrus,  and  for  which,  it  may  be  presumed 
God  had  endowed  him  with  so  many  heroic  virtues 
and  blessed  him  with  such  an  uninterrupted  series  of 
glorious  victories  and  success. 

"  In  the  first  year  of  Cyrus,  king  of  Persia,  that  th« 
word  of  the  Lord  by  the  mouth  ot  Jeremiah  might  b« 
fulfilled,  the  Lord  stirred  up  the  spirit  of  Cyrus,  king 
of  Persia,  that  he  made  a  proclamation  throughout  all 
his  kingdom,  and  put  it  also  in  writing,  saying,  Thus 
saith  Cyrus,  king  of  Persia.  The  Lord  God  of  heavea 
hath  given  me  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  h« 
hath  charged  me  to  build  him  a  house  at  Jerusalem, 
which  is  in  Judah.  Who  is  there  among  you  of  all 
his  people?  his  God  be  with  him,  and  let  him  go  upto 
Jerusalem,  which  is  in  Jndah,  and  build  the  house  of 
the  Lord  God  of  Israel  (he  is  the<ru«God,)  which  is 
in  Jerusalem.  And  whosoever  remaineth  in  any  place 
where  he  sojourneth,  let  the  men  of  his  place  help  him 
with  silver,  and  with  gold,  and  with  goods,  and  with 
beasts,  besides  the  freewill  offering  tor  the  house  of 
God  that  is  in  Jerusalem."* 

Cyrus,  at  the  same  time,  restored  to  the  Jews  all  the 
vessels  of  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  which  Nabuchodo- 
nosor  had  brought  from  Jerusalem,  and  placed  in  the 
temple  of  his  god.  Shortly  after  the  Jews  departed 
under  the  conduct  of  Zorobabel,  to  return  into  their 
own  country. 

The  Samaritans.7  who  had  long  been  the  declared 
enemies  of  the  Jews,  did  all  they  possibly  could  to 
hinder  the  building  of  the  temple;  and  though  they 
could  not  alter  Cyrus's  decree,  yet  they  so  far  prevail- 
ed by  bribes  and  underhand  dealings  with  the  minis- 
ters and  other  officers  concerned  (herein,  as  to  ob- 
struct the  execution  of  it ;  so  that  for  several  years  the 
building  went  on  very  slowly. 

It  seems  to  have  been  through 
grief  at  seeing  the  execution  of  this  A .  M.  3470. 

decree,  so  long  retarded,8  that  in  Ant.  J.  C.  534. 
the  third  year  of  Cyrus,  in  the  first 
month  of  that  year,' Daniel  gave  himself  up  to  mourn- 
ing and  fasting  for  three  weeks  together.  He  wa» 
then  near  the  river  Tigris  in  Persia.  When  this  time 
of  fasting  was  ended ,  he  saw  the  vision  concerning  the 
succession  of  the  kings  of  Persia,  the  empire  of  the 
Macedonians,  and  the  conquest  of  the  Romans.  Thii 
revelation  is  related  in  the  tenth,  eleventh,  and  twelfth 
chapters  of  the  prophecies  of  Daniel,  of  which  I  shall 
soon  speak. 

By  what  we  find  in  the  conclusion  of  the  lastchap- 


«  Cic.  1.  i  de  Div.  n.  46. 

•  Erra,  !.  1—4 

*  Dan.  x.  1-3. 


»  Isa.  xliv.  X!T. 
t  Ibid.  IT.  1^5 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


175 


ter,1  we  have  reason  to  conjecture,  that  he  died  soon 
after;  and,  indeed,  his  great  age  makes  it  unlikely  that 
he  could  live  much  longer;  lor  at  this  time  he  must 
l-ave  been  at  least  eighty-five  years  of  age,  if  we  sup- 
lose  him  to  have  been  twelve  when  he  was  carried  to 
Bab\  Ion  with  the  other  captives:  and  some  suppose 
him  to  have  been  eighteen  years  of  age  at  that  time: 
from  that  early  age  he  had  given  proofs  of  wisdom, 
more  than  human,  in  the  judgment  of  Susannah.  He 
was  eve-  afterwards  very  much  esteemed  by  all  the 
princes  who  reigned  at  Babylon,  and  was  always  em- 
ployed by  them  with  distinction  in  the  administration 
of  t'leir  affairs. 

Daniel's  wisdom  did  not  only  reach  to  things  di- 
vine and  political,  but  also  to  arts  and  sciences,  and 
particularly  to  that  of  architecture.  Josephus*  speaks 
of  a  famous  edifice  built  by  him  at  Susa,'  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  castle,  which  he  says  still  subsisted  in  his 
time,  finished  with  such  wonderful  art,  that  it  then 
teemed  as  fresh  and  beautiful  as  if  it  had  been  but 
newly  built.  Within  this  palace  the  Persian  and  Par- 
thian kings  were  usually  buried;  and  for  the  sake  of 
the  founder,  the  keeping  of  it  was  committed  to  one 
of  the  Jewish  nation,  even  to  the  time  of  Josephus.  It 
was  a  common  tradition  in  those  parts  for  many  ages, 
that  Daniel  died  in  that  city,*  and  there  they  show 
his  monument  even  to  this  day.  It  is  certain,  that  he 
used  to  go  thithrr  from  time  to  time,  and  he  himself 
tells  us  that  he  did  the  king's  business  there;*  that  is, 
was  governor  for  the  king  of  Babylon. 

Reflections  upon  Daniel's  Prophecies. 

I  have  hithorto  deferred  making  any  reflections  upon 
the  prophecies  of  Daniel,  which  certainly  to  any  rea- 
tonable  mind  are  a  very  convincing  proof  of  the  truth 
of  our  religion.  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  that  which 
persoii'JIy  itlated  to  Nebuchadnezzar.6  and  foretold 
jn  what  manner,  for  the  punishment  of  his  pride,  he 
should  be  reduced  to  the  condition  of  the  beasts  of 
the  field .  and  after  a  certain  number  of  years  restored 
again  to  his  understanding  and  to  his  throne.  It  is 
well  known  the  matter  happened  exactly  according 
to  Daniel's  prediction:  the  king  himself  relates  it  in  a 
declaration  addressed  to  all  the  people  and  nations  of 
his  empire.  Was  it  possible  for  Daniel  to  ascribe  such 
a  manifesto  or  proclamation  to  Nebuchadnezzar,  if  it 
had  not  been  genuine;  to  speak  of  it,  as  having  been 
sent  into  all  the  provinces,  if  nobody  had  seen  it;  and 
in  the  midst  of  Babylon,  that  was  "full  both  of  Jews 
and  Gentiles,  to  publish  an  attestation  of  such  impor- 
tance, and  so  injurious  to  the  king,  the  falsehood  of 
which  must  have  been  notorious  to  all  the  world? 

I  shall  content  myself  with  representing  very  brief- 
ly-, and  under  one  and  the  same  point  of  view,  the 
prophecies  of  Daniel,  which  designate  the  succession 
of  the  four  great  empires,  and  which,  for  that  reason, 
have  an  essential  and  necessary  relation  to  the  subject 
matter  of  this  work,  which  is  no  other  than  the  histo- 
ry of  those  very  empires. 

The  first  of  these  prophecies  has  reference  to  the 
dream  'vhirh  Nebuchadnezzar  had,7  of  an  image 
compos  id  of  different  metals,  gold,  silver,  brass,  and 
iron;  which  image  was  broken  in  pieces,  and  beaten 
as  small  as  dust  by  a  little  stone  from  the  mountain, 
whic  h  afterwards  became  itself  a  mountain  of  extra- 
ordinary height  and  magnitude.  This  dream  I  have 
already  recited  at  large  8 

About  fifty  years  after,'  the  same  Daniel  saw 
another  vision  very  like  that  which  I  have  just  been 
•peaking  of;  this  .vas  the  vision  of  the  four  large 
beasts  which  came  out  of  the  sea.  The  first  was  like 
a  lion,  and  had  eagle's  wings;  the  second  was  like  a 
War;  the  third  was  like  a  leopard  which  had  four 


»  But  go  thou  thy  way  till  the  end  be  ;  for  thou  shall  rest 
and  stand  in  thy  lot  at  the  end  of  the  dayi.     Dan.  xii.  13. 
»  Ami').  I.  x.'cnp.  12. 

•  So  it  ousht  to  be  read,  according  to  St.  Jerome,  who  re- 
lates the  same   fad ;  Comm.  in  Dan.  viii.  2.  and  not  Ecba- 
Una.  as  it  is  now  read  in  the  text  of  Jiwephui. 

«  Now  rated  T'uster  •  Dan.  viii.  27. 

•  Dsn.i*.  t  Ibid.  ii.  •  Pag.  J42. 

•  This  was  the  first  year  of  Belihazzar  king  of  Babylon. 
D*n.  vu 


heads;  the  fourth  and  last  still  more  strorg  and  terri 
ble  than  the  other,  had  great  iron  teeth;  it  devoured 
and  brake  in  pieces,  and  stamped  the  residue  with  his 
feet.  From  the  midst  of  the  ten  horns,  which  this 
beast  had,  there  came  up  a  little  one,  which  had  eye* 
like  those  of  a  man,  and  a  mouth  (peaking  great 
things,  and  this  horn  became  greater  than  the  other: 
the  same  horn  made  war  with  tlit-  saints,  and  prevailed 
against  them,  until  the  Ancient  of  Da\  ?,  that  is,  the 
everlasting  God,  came,  and  sitting  upon  his  thr«ne, 
surrounded  with  a  thousand  million  01'  angels,  pro- 
nounced an  irreversible  judgment  upon  the  four  beasts, 
whose  time  and  duration  he  had  determined,  and  gave 
the  Son  of  Man  power  over  all  the  nations,  and  all 
the  tribes,  an  everlasting  power  and  dominion  which 
shall  not  pass  away,  and  a  kingdom  which  shall  not  b« 
destroyed. 

It  is  generally  agreed,  that  the  different  metals  of 
which  the  image  was  composed,  and  the  four  beasts 
that  came  out  of  the  sea,  signified  so  many  different 
monarchies,  which  were  to  succeed  one  another,  were 
to  be  successively  destroyed  by  each  other,  and  were 
all  to  give  place  to  the  eternal  empire  of  Jesus  Christ, 
for  whom  alone  they  had  subsisted.  It  is  also  agreed, 
that  these  four  monarchies  were  those  of  the  Babylo- 
nians, of  the  Persians  and  Medes  united,  of  the  Ma- 
cedonians, and  the  Romans.10  This  is  plainly  de- 
monstrated by  the  very  order  of  their  succession.  But 
where  did  Daniel  see  this  succession  and  this  order? 
Who  could  reveal  the  changes  of  empires  to  him, -but 
He  only  who  is  the  master  of  times  and  monarchies 
who  has  determined  every  thing  by  his  own  decrees, 
and  who  by  a  supernatural  revelation  imparts  the 
knowledge  of  them  to  whom  he  pleases?" 

In  the  following  chapter  this  prophet  speaks  with 
still  greater  clearness  and  precision.1*  For  after  hay- 
ing represented  the  Persian  and  Macedonian  monar- 
chies under  the  figure  of  two  beasts,  he  thus  expounds 
his  meaning  in  the  plainest  manner:  The  ram,  which 
hath  two  unequal  horns,  represents  the  king  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians;  the  goat  which  overthrows  and 
tramples  him  under  his  feet,  is  the  king  of  the  Gre- 
cians; and  the  great  horn  which  that  animal  has  be- 
tween his  eyes,  represents  the  first  king  and  founder  of 
that  monarchy.  How  did  Daniel  sec  that  the  Persian 
empire  should  be  composed  of  two  different  nations, 
Medes  and  Persians;  and  that  this  empire  should  be 
destroyed  by  the  power  of  the  Grecians?  How  did  he 
foresee  the  rapidity  of  Alexander's  conquests,  which 
he  so  aptly  describes,  by  saying  that  he  touched  not  the 
ground?  How  did  he  learn,  that  Alexander  should 
not  have  any  successor  equal  to  himself,  and  that  the 
first  monarch  of  the  Grecian  empire  should  be  like- 
wise the  most  powerful?  By  what  other  light  than 
that  of  divine  revelation  could  he  discover,13  that 
Alexander  would  have  no  son  to  succeed  him;  that 
his  empire  would  be  dismembered  and  divided  into 
four  principal  kingdoms;  and  his  successors  would  be 
of  his  nation,  but  not  of  his  blood  :  and  that  out  of  the 
ruins  of  a  monarchy  so  suddenly  formed,  several 
states  would  be  estab  ished,  of  which  some  would  be 
in  the  east,  others  in  the  west,  some  in  the  south,  and 
others  in  the  north? 

The  particulars  of  the  facts  foretold  in  the  remainder 
of  the  eighth,  and  in  the  eleventh  chapter,  are  no  less 
astonishing.  How  could  Daniel  in  Cyrus's  reign, H 
for?tel  that  the  fourth  of  Cyrus's  successors  should 
gather  together  all  his  forces  to  attack  the  Grecian 


«•  Some  interpreters,  instead  of  the  Romans,  substitute 
the  kings  of  Syria  and  Egypt,  Alexander's  successors. 

»  He  changetn  the  times  and  the  seasons ;  he  rrmnveth 
and  setieth  up  king*.  He  revealeth  the  deep  and  neeret 
things;  and  the  light  dwelleth  with  him.  Dan  ii.  21,  22. 

»»  Dan.  viii. 

»  And  a  mighty  king  shall  stand  up.  that  shall  rule  with 
great  dominion  :  and  his  kingdom  shall  be  divided  towards 
the  four  winds  of  heaven,  and  not  to  his  posterity,  nor  ac- 
cording to  his  dominion,  which  he  ruled.  Dan.  xi.  3.  4  — 
Four  kingdoms  shall  stand  up  out  of  the  nation,  but  not  ia 
his  power.  Dun.  viii.  22. 

'«  Behold,  there  shall  stand  up  yet  three  kings  in  Persia, 
and  the  fourth  shall  be  far  rirlior  than  they  all  ;  and  hy  h* 
strength  through  his  riches  he  shall  stir  op  all  against  ,b* 
realm  of  Grcria.  Dan.  xi.  2 


170 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


•tales?1  How  could  this  prophet,  who  lived  so  long 
before  the  time  of  the  Maccabees,  particularly  describe 
all  the  persecutions  which  Antiochus  would  bring 
upon  the  Jews;  the  manner  of  his  abolishing  the 
sacrifices,  which  were  daily  offered  in  the  temple  of 
Jerusalem;  the  profanation  of  that  holy  place,  by  set- 
ting up  an  idol  therein;  and  the  vengeance  which  God 
would  inflict  on  him  for  it?  How  could  he,2  in  the 
first  year  of  the  Persian  empire,  foretel  the  wars  which 
Alexander's  successors  would  wage  with  one  another 
In  the  kingdoms  of  Syria  and  Egypt,  their  mutual  in- 
vasions of  ono  another's  territories,  their  insincerity 
in  their  treaties,  and  their  alliances  bj-  marriage,  which 
would  only  be  made  to  cloak  their  fraudulent  and 
perfidious  designs? 

1  leave  to  the  intelligent  and  religious  reader  to 
draw  the  conclusion  which  naturally  results  from 
these  predictions  of  Daniel ;  so  clear  and  express,  that 
Porphyry,3  a  professed  enemy  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion, could  find  no  other  way  of  disputing  the  divine 
original  of  them,  than  by  pretending  that  they  were 
written  after  the  events,  and  were  rather  a  narration 
of  things  past,  than  a  prediction  of  things  to  come. 

Before  I  conclude  this  article  of  Daniel's  prophe- 
cies, I  must  desire  the  reader  to  remark  what  an  op- 
position the  Holy  Ghost  has  put  between  empires  of 
the  world  and  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  the 
former  every  thing  appears  great,  splendid,  and  mag- 
nificent. Strength,  power,  glory,  and  majesty,  seem 
to  be  their  natural  attendants.  In  them  we  easily 
discern  those  great  warriors,  those  famous  conquerors, 
those  thunderbolts  of  war,  who  spread  terror  every 
where,  and  whom  nothing  could  withstand.  But  then 
they  are  represented  as  wild  beasts,  as  bears,  lion?, 
and  leopards,  whose  sole  attribute  is  to  tear  in  pieces, 
to  devour,  and  to  destroy.  What  an  image  and  pic- 
ture is  this  of  conquerors?  How  admirably  does  it 
instruct  us  to  lessen  the  ideas  we  are  apt  to  form,  as 
well  of  empire*  as  of  their  founders  or  governors! 

In  the  empire  of  Jesus  Christ  it  is  quite  otherwise. 
Let  us  consider  its  origin  and  first  rise,  or  carefully 
examine  its  progress  and  growth  at  all  times,  and  we 
shall  find  that  weakness  and  meanness,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  say  so,  have  always  outwardly  been  its 
striking  characteristics.  It  is  the  leaven,  the  grain  of 
mustard-seed,  the  little  stone  cut  out  of  the  mountain. 
And  yet,  in  reality,  there  is  no  true  greatness  but  in 
this  empire.  The  eternal  Word  is  the  founder  and 
the  king  thereof.  All  the  thrones  of  the  earth  come 
to  pay  homage  to  his,  and  to  bow  themselves  before 
him.  The  design  of  his  reign  is  to  save  mankind;  to 
make  them  eternally  happy,  and  to  form  to  himself  a 
nation  of  saints  and  just  persons,  who  may  all  of  them 
be  so  many  kings  and  conquerors.  It  is  for  tht-ir  sakes 
only  that  the  whole  world  doth  subsist:  and  when  the 
number  of  them  shall  be  complete,  "  Then,"  (says  St. 
Paul)*  "  rometh  the  end  and  consummation  of  all 
things,  when  Jesus  Christ  shall  have  delivered  up  the 
kingdom  to  God,  even  the  Father:  when  he  shall  have 
put  down  all  rulo,  and  all  authority  and  power." 

Can  a  writer,  who  sees  in  the  prophecies  of  Daniel 
that  the  several  empires  of  the  world,  after  having 
iubsisted  during  the  time  determined  for  them  by  the 
sovereign  Disposer  of  kingdoms,  do  all  terminate  and 
centre  in  the  empire  of  Jesus  Christ;  can  a  writer,  I 
say,  amidst  all  these  profane  objects,  forbear  turning 
his  eyes  now  and  then  towards  that  great  divine  one, 
•nd  not  have  it  always  in  view,  at  least  at  a  distance, 
as  the  end  and  consummation  of  all  others. 

SECTION  III.— THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  CYRUS.   THE 

DEATH  OF  THAT  PRINCE. 

LET  us  return  to  Cyrus.  Being  equally  beloved  by 
bis  own  natural  subject?.*  and  by  those  of  the  con- 
quertd  nations,  he  peaceably  enjoyed  the  fruits  of  his 
labours  and  victories.  His  empire  was  bounded  on 
the  east  by  the  river  Indus,  on  the  north  by  the  Cas- 
pian and  Etixine  seas,  on  the  west  by  the  jtgean  sea, 
and  on  the  south  by  Ethiopia  and  the  sea  of  Arabia. 

'  XITVPI.  •  Dan.  xi.  5 — 45. 

S    Mieron.  in  Prcxrm.  ad  dm.  in  Dan. 
•  1  Cor.  xv.  24.  •  Cyrop.  1.  viii    p.  833,  fee. 


He  established  his  residence  in  the  midst  of  all  these 

countries,  spending  generally  seven  months  of    the 

I  year  at  Babylon  in  the  winter-season,  because  ot-th« 

1  warmth  of  that  climate;  three  months  at  Su-a   in  the 

spring,  and  two  months   at  Ecbatana  during  the  heat 

of  the  summer. 

Seven  years  being  spent  in  this  state  of  tranquillity, 
Cyrus  returned  into  Persia,  for  the  seventh  time  after 
his  accession  to  the  whole  monarchy:  and  tL  »  show* 
that  he  used  to  go  regularly  into  Persia  once  a  year. 
Cambyses  had  now  been  dead  for  some  time,  and 
Cyrus'  himself  was  grown  pretty  old,  being  at  thi* 
time  about  seventy  years  of  age;  thirty  of  which  had 
elapsed  since  his  being  first  made  general  of  the  Per- 
sian forces,  nine  from  the  taking  of  Babylon,  and  se- 
ven from  his  beginning  to  reign  alone  after  the  death 
of  Cy  ax  ares. 

To  the  very  last  he  enjoyed  a  vigorous  state  of 
health,'  which  was  the  fruit  of  the  sober  and  temper- 
ate life  which  he  had  constantly  led.  And  vthereu 
they,  who  give  themselves  up  to-  drunkenness  and 
debauchery,  often  feel  all  the  infirmities  of  agi  ,  i  \  en 
whilst  they  are  young;  Cyrus,  on  the  contrary,  at  a 
very  advanced  age,  still  enjoyed  all  the  vigour  and 
advantages  of  youth. 

When  he  perceived  the  time  of  his  death  to  draw 
nigh,  he  ordered  his  children,  and  the  chief  officer* 
of  the  state,  to  be  assembled  about  him :  and  after  hav- 
ing thanked  the  gods  for  all  their  favours  towards  him 
through  the  course  of  his  life,  and  implored  tlie  like 
protection  for  his  children,  his  country, and  lii>  frit  m!s, 
he  declared  his  eldest  son  Cambyses,  his  successor, 
and  left  the  other,  whose  name  was  Tanaoxares,  sev- 
eral very  considerable  governments.  He  gave  them 
both  excellent  instructions,  by  representing  to  them, 
that  the  main  strength  mid  support  of  the  throne  was 
neither  the  vast  extent  of  countries,  nor  the  number 
offerees,  nor  immense  riches;  but  a  due  respect  for 
the  gods,  a  good  understanding  between  brethren,  and 
the  art  of  acquiring  and  preserving  true  ana  faithful 
friends.  "  I  conjure  you  therefore,"  said  he,  "  my  dear 
children,  in  the  name  of  the  gods,  to  respect  and  love 
one  another,  if  you  mean  to  retain  any  desire  to  please 
me  in  future.  For  I  do  not  think  you  will  esteem  me 
to  be  no  longer  any  thing,  because  you  will  not  see 
me  after  my  death.  You  never  saw  my  soul  to  thi* 
instant:  you  must  have  known,  however,  by  its  ac- 
tions, that  it  really  existed.  Do  you  believe  that 
honours  would  still  be  paid  to  those  whose  bodies  are 
now  but  ashes,  if  their  souls  had  no  longer  an\  being 
or  power?  No,  no,  my  sons,  I  could  never  imagine, 
that  the  soul  only  lived  whilst  in  a  mortal  body,  nnd 
died  when  separated  from  it.  But  if  1  mistake,  and 
nothing  shall  remain  of  me  after  death,  at  least  tear 
the  gods,  who  never  die,  who  see  all  things,  and 
whose  power  is  infinite.  Fear  them,  and  let  that  fear 
prevent  you  from  ever  eloing,  or  deliberating  to  do, 
any  thing  contrary  to  religion  and  justice.  Next  to 
them,  fear  mankind,  and  the  ages  to  come.  The  god* 
have  not  buried  you  in  obscurity,  but  have  exposed  you 
upon  agreat  theatre  to  the  view  of  the  whole  universe 
II  your  actions  are  guiltless  and  upright,  be  assure*. 
they  will  augment  your  glory  and  power.  As  to  mj 
body,  my  sons,  when  life,  has  forsaken  it,  enclose  it 
neither  in  gold  nor  silver,  nor  an}"  other  matter  what 
soever  RESTORE  IT  IMMEDIATELY  TO  THE  EARTH 

Can  it  be  more  happy  than  in  being  blend**!,  and  in  a 
manner  incorporated,  with  the  benefactress  and  com- 
mon mother  of  human  kind?"  After  having  given  hi* 
hand  to  be  kissed  by  all  that  were  present,  finding  him- 

•    •     ' '  "         '   -'  words: 

happy: 

._..,  ..._,  \ndfor 

you,  my  faithful  friends,  as  well  absent  as  present,  re- 
ceive this  last  farewell,  and  may  you 
live  in  peace."      After  having  said  A.  M.  3475. 

this,  he  covered  his  face,  nnd  died  Ant.  J.  C.  529. 
equally  lamented  by  all  his  people. 


, 

self  at  the  point  of  death,  he  added  these  last  words: 
"Adieu,  dear  children;  may  your  lives  be  happy: 
carry  my  last  remembrance  to  yoor  mother.  And  for 
l  a 


•  Cyru»  quidem  apud  Xenopliotitrm  eo  icimone,  quern 
morien."  liabuit,  cflm  admodum  sencx  en«et,  npgal  *e  nnqunip 
senisse.  srnrrtutrm  unarn  imberilliorem  factani.  ouam  adol 
eicentia  fuimet. —  Cic.  de  Stntct.  n.  9 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


177 


The  order  given  by  Cyrus  to  RESTOPJE  HIS  BODY 
TO  THE  EARTH,  is,  in  r.iy  opiniiii,  worthy  of  obser- 
Tation.  He  would  have  thought  it  disgraced  and  in- 
jured, if  enclosed  in  gold  or  silver.  RESTORE  IT  TO 
Tilt:  I.ARTH,  says  he.  Where  did  that  prince  learn 
that  it  was  from  thence  it  derived  its  origin?  Behold 
one  of  those  precious  traces  of  tradition  as  old  as  the 
world.  Cyrus,  alter  having  done  good  to  his  subjects 
during  his  whole  life,  demands  to  be  incorporated 
with  the  earth,  that  benefactress  of  th>5  human  race, 
to  perpetuate  that  good,  in  some  measure,  even  after 
bis  death. 

Character  and  eulogy  rf  Cyrnt. 

Cjrus  may  justly  be  considered  as  the  wisest  con- 
queror, and  the  most  accomplished  prince  mentioned 
in  profane  history.  He  was  possessed  of  all  the  qual- 
ities requisite  to  form  a  great  man;  wisdom,  modera- 
tion, courage,  magnanimity,  noble  sentiments,  a  won- 
derful ability  in  managing  men's  tempers  and  gaining 
their  afiicliuiis,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  all  the  parts 
of  the  military  art,  as  far  as  that  age  had  carried  it,  a 
vast  extent  of  genius  mul  capacity  for  forming,  and 
equal  steadiness  and  prudence  for  executing,  the 
greatest  projects. 

It  is  very  common  for  those  heroes,  who  shine  in 
the  fit-Id,  and  make  a  great  figure  in  the  time  of  ac- 
tion, to  make  hut  a  very  poor  one  upon  other  occa- 
sions, and  in  matters  of  a  different  nature.  We  are 
astoni.sht  d,  «  hen  we  see  them  alone  and  without  their 
armies,  to  find  what  a  difference  there  is  between  a 
general  and  a  great  man;  to  see  what  low  sentiments 
and  mean  actions  they  are  capable  of  in  private  life: 
how  they  are  influenced  by  jealousy,  and  governed  by 
intert-i;  how  disagreeable,  and  even  odious,  they 
render  themselves  by  their  haughty  deportment  and 
arrogance  which  they  think  necessary  to  preserve 
their  authority,  and  which  only  serve  to  make  them 
hated  and  despised. 

C\  rus  had  •  none  of  these  defects.  He  appeared 
always  the  same,  that  is.  always  great,  even  in  the 
slightest  matters.  Being  assured  of  hig  greatness,  of 
which  real  merit  was  the  foundation  and  support,  he 
thought  of  nothing  more  than  to  render  himself  affa- 
ble, and  easy  of  access,  and  whatever  he  seemed  to 
lose  by  tiiis  condescending  humble  demeanour,  was 
abundantly  compensated  by  the  cordial  affection  and 
sinri Te  respect  it  procured  him  from  his  people. 

Never  was  any  prince  a  greater  master  of  the  art 
of  insinuation,  so  necessary  for  those  that  govern, 
and  ytt  so  little  understood  or  practised.  He  knew 
perfectly  uhat  advantages  may  result  from  a  single 
word  rightly  timed,  from  an  obliging  carriage,  from  a 
reason  assigned  at  the  same  time  that  a  command  is 
given,  from  a  little  praise  in  granting  a  favour,  and 
from  softening  a  refusal  with  expressions  of  concern 
and  good  will.  His  history  abounds  with  beauties  of 
this  kind. 

He  was  rich  in  a  sort  of  wealth  which  most  sove 
reigns  want,  who  are  possessed  of  even-  thing  but 
faithful  friends,  and  whose  indigence  in  that  particu- 
lar is  concealed  by  the  splendour  and  affluence  with 
which  th«v  are  surrounded.  Cyrus  was  beloved,1  be- 
cause he  himself  had  a  love  for  others:  for,  has  a  man 
any  friends,  or  does  he  deserve  to  have  any,  when  he 
himself  is  void  of  friendship?  Nothing  is  more  inter- 
esting than  to  see  in  Xenophon  the  manner  in  which 
Cvrus  lived  and  conversed  with  his  friends,  always 
preserving  as  much  dignity  ns  was  requisite  to  keep 
up  a  due  decorum,  ana  yet  infinitely  removed  from 
that  ill-judged  haughtiness,  which  deprives  the  great 
of  the  most  innocent  and  agreeable  pleasure  in  life, 
that  of  converging  freely  and  sociably  with  per*on»  ol 
merit,  though  of  an  interior  station. 

The  use  he  made  of  his  friends  may  serve  as  a  per- 
fect model  to  all  persons  in  authority.  His  friends 
bad  received  from  him  not  only  the  liberty,  but  ar 
express  command  to  tell  him  whatever  they  thought.* 
And  though  he  was  much  superior  to  all  his  officers 
m  understanding,  yet  he  never  undertook  any  thing 


i   Hahec  amiros,  quia  amieui  ip»e  e».     Pftf.   TV^'an. 
•  rial.  1.  iii.  ili-  Leg.  p.  694. 
VOL.  I.— 23 


without  asking  their  advice:  and  whatever  wa»  to  b« 
done,  whether  it  w..s  to  perform  any  thing  in  the  go- 
vernment, to  make  some  change  in  the  army,  or  to 
form  a  new  enterprise,  he  would  always  have  every 
nan  speak  his  sentiments,  and  would  olten  make  use 
if  them  to  correct  his  own:  so  different  was  he  from 
the  person  mentioned  by  Tacitus,3  who  thought  it  a 
sufficient  reason  for  rejecting  the  most  excellent  pro- 
ject or  advice,  that  it  did  not  proceed  from  himself: 
Consiiii,  qwimvis  egregii,  q-uod  ipse  non  ajfirret  ini- 
miciit. 

Cicero  observes,*  that  during  the  whole  time  of 
Cyrus's  government,  he  was  never  heard  to  speak 
one  rough  or  angry  word:  Ciijus  mmmo  in  imperio 
nemo  imqnam  verbiim  vllwn  asperiiis  atidivit.  \\  hat 
a  great  encomium  for  a  prince  is  comprehended  in  that 
short  sentence!  Cyrus  must  have  been  a  very  great 
master  of  himself,  to  be  able,  in  the  midst  of  so  much 
agitation,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  intoxicating  etlects 
of  sovereign  power,  always  to  preserve  his  mind  in 
such  a  state  of  calmness  and  composure  as  that  no 
crosses,  disappointments,  or  unforeseen  accident* 
should  ever  ruffle  its  tranquillity,  or  provoke  him  to 
utter  any  harsh  or  offensive  expression. 

But  what  was  still  greater  in  him,  and  more  truly 
royal  than  all  this,  was  his  steadfast  persuasion,  that 
all  his  labours  and  endeavours  ought  to  tend  to  the 
happiness  of  his  people;5  and  that  it  was  not  by  the 
spit  ndour  of  riches,  by  pompous  equipages,  luxurious 
living,  or  a  magnificent  table,  that  a  king  ought  to 
distinguish  himself  from  his  subjects,  but  by  a  supe- 
riority of  merit  in  e\ery  kind,  and  particularly  by  a 
constant,  indefatigable  care  and  vigilance  to  promote 
their  interests  and  to  secure  to  them  tranquillity  and 
plenty.  He  said  himself  one  day,  as  he  was  discours- 
ing with  his  courtiers  upon  the  duties  of  a  king,6  that 
a  prince  ought  to  consider  himself  as  a  shepherd7  (the 
image  under  which  both  sacred  and  profane  antiquity 
represented  good  kings;)  and  that  he  ought  to  have 
the  same  vigilance,  care,  and  goodness.  "  ]t  is  his 
duty,"  gay*  he,  "  to  watch,  that  his  people  may  liv« 
in  safety  and  quiet;  to  burden  himself  with  anxieties 
and  cares,  that  they  may  be  exempt  from  them;  to 
choose  whatever  is  salutary  for  them,  and  remove 
what  is  hurtful  and  prejudicial;  to  place  his  delight 
in  seeing  them  increase  and  multiply,  and  valiantly 
expose  his  own  person  in  their  defence  and  protec- 
tion. This,"sa\s  he,  "  is  the  natural  idea,  and  the 
just  image  of  a  good  king.  It  is  reasonable,  at  the 
same  time,  that  His  subjects  should  render  him  all  the 
service  he  stands  in  need  of;  but  it  is  still  more  rea- 
sonable, that  he  should  labour  to  make  them  happy; 
because  it  is  for  that  very  end  that  he  is  their  king,  as 
much  as  it  is  the  end  and  office  of  a  shepherd  to  take 
care  of  his  flock." 

Indeed,  to  be  the  guardian  of  the  commonwealth, 
and  to  be  king;  to  be  for  the  people,  and  to  be  their 
sovereign,  is  but  one  and  the  game  thing.  A  man  is 
born  for  others,  when  he  is  born  to  govern,  because 
the  reason  and  end  of  governing  others  is  only  to  be 
useful  and  serviceable  to  them.  The  very  basis  and 
foundation  of  the  condition  of  princes  is,  not  to  be- 
long to  themselves:  the  very  characteristic  of  their 
greatness  is,  that  they  are  consecrated  to  the  public 
good.  They  may  properly  be  considered  as  light, 
which  is  placed  on  higfc,  only  to  diffuse  and  shed  its 
beams  on  every  thing  below.  Are  such  sentiments  as 
these  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  the  regal  state? 

It  was  by  the  concurrence  of  all  these  virtues  that 
Cyrus  succeeded  in  founding  such  an  extensive  em- 
pire in  so  short  a  time;  that  he  peaceably  enjoyed  the 
fruits  of  his  conquests  for  many  years;  that  he  mad* 
himself  so  much  esteemed  and  beloved,  not  only  by 
his  own  natural  subjects,  but  by  all  the  nations  he  had 
conquered;  that  after  his  death  he  was  universally 
regretted  as  the  common  father  of  all  his  people. 

We  ought  not  to  be  surprised,  that  Cyrus  was  so 


*  Hiit.  1.  i.  c.  96. 

«  Lib.  i.  Epist.  2.  ad  Q.  fratrem. 
'  Cyrop  1.  i.  p.  27.  •  Ib.  1.  Tiii.  p.  210. 

'   Thou  shall  feed  my  peffle,  laid  God  to  Dar:d.     8  Sci 
T.  8.     Ho/urn  >.«»>,  Homer,  in  many  places. 


178 


HISTORY  OF  CYRUS. 


•ccoraplished  in  every  virtue  (it  will  easily  be  under- 
stood, that  I  speak  only  of  pagan  virtu..*,)  because 
we  know  that  it  was  God  himself,  who  had  formed 
him  to  be  the  instrument  and  agent  of  hii  gracious 
designs  towards  hi*  peruliar  people. 

When  I  say  lhat  God  hun-elf  had  formed  this 
prince,  I  do  not  mean  that  he  did  it  by  any  sensible 
miracle,  nor  that  he  immediately  made  him  such,  as 
we  admire  him  in  the  accounts  we  have  of  him  in 
history.  God  gave  him  a  happy  disposition,  and  im- 
planted in  his  mind  the  seeds  of  all  the  noblest  quali- 
ties, disposing  his  heart  at  the  same  time,  to  aspire 
after  the  most  excellent  and  sublime  virtues.  But, 
above  all,  he  took  care,  that  this  happy  genius  should 
be  cultivated  by  a  goo  J  education,  and  by  that  means 
be  prepared  for  the  great  designs  for  which  he  intend- 
ed him.  We  may  venture  to  say,  without  fear  of  be- 
ins  mistaken,  that  the  greatest  excellencies  in  Cyrus 
were  owing  to  the  mode  in  which  he  was  educated, 
which  confounding  him  in  some  sort,  with  the  rest  of 
the  subjects,  and  keeping  him  under  the  sauie  subjec- 
tion to'the  authority  of  his  teachers,  served  to  eradi- 
cate that  pride,  which  is  so  natural  to  princes;  taught 
him  to  hearken  to  advice,  and  to  obey  before  he  came 
to  command;  inured  him  to  hardship  and  toil;  accus- 
tomed him  to  temperance  and  sobriety ;  and,  in  a  word, 
rendered  him  such  as  we  have  seen  him  throughout 
bis  whole  conduct,  gentle,  modest,  affable,  obliging, 
compassionate,  an  enemy  to  all  luxury  and  pride,  and 
(till  more  so  to  flattery. 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  such  a  prince  is  one  of 
the  most  precious  and  valuable  gifts  that  Heaven  can 
make  to  mortal  man.  The  infu.eU  themselves  have 
acknowledged  this;  nor  has  the  darkness  of  their 
false  religion  been  able  to  hide  these  two  remarkable 
truths  from  their  observation:  That  all  good  kings 
are  the  gift  of  God  alone,  and  that  such  a  gift  includes 
many  others;  for  nothing  can  be  *>  excellent  as  that 
which  bears  the  most  perfect  resemblance  to  the  Dei- 
tv;  and  the  noblest  image  of  the  Deity  is  a  just,  mo- 
derate, chaste,  and  virtuous  prince,  who  reigns  with 
no  other  view  than  to  establish  the  reign  of  justice 
and  virtue.  This  is  the  portrait  which  Pliny  has  left 
us  of  Trajan,  and  which  has  a  great  resemblance  to 
that  of  Cvrus.  Jfullum  eat  prteslabilius  et  pulchriut 
Dei  mmi'is  erga  morlalcs  quum  cat  t us,  et  sanctus,  et 
Deo  timillimtis,  princeps.* 

When  I  narrowly  examine  this  hero's  life,  there 
teems  to  me  to  have  been  one  circumstance  wanting 
to  his  glory,  which  would  have  enhanced  it  exceed- 
ingly, I  mean  that  of  having  struggled  un  It  r  some 
grievous  calamity  for  some  time,  and  of  having  his 
virtue  tried  by  some  sudden  reverse  of  fortune.  ] 
know,  indeed,  that  the  emperor  Galba,  when  he  adop- 
ted Piso,  told  him  that  the  slings  of  prosp  rity  were 
infinitely  sharper  than  those  of  adversity ;  and  that  the 
former  put  the  soul  to  a  much  severer  trial  than  the 
latter:  Fortunam  adknc  tanlum  adversnm  tulisli;2 
tec'tndte  ret  acriorihus  stimulus  erplorant  animot. 
And  the  reason  he  gives  is,  that  when  misfortune* 
come  with  their  whole  weight  upon  the  soul,  she  ex- 
erts herself,  and  summons  all  her  strength  to  bear  up 
against  the  burden;  whereas  prosperity,  attacking  the 
mind  secretly  or  insensibly,  leaves  it  all  its  weak- 
ness, and  insinuates  a  poison  into  it,  by  so  much  the 
more  dangerous,  as  it  is  the  more  subtle:'  Quia  mis- 
trite  lolerantnr,  felicitate  corrumpimur. 

However,  it  must  be  owned  that  adversity,  when 
supported  with  nobleness  and  dignity,  and  surmount- 
ed by  am  invincible  patience,  adds  a  great  lustre  to  a 
prince's  glory,  and  gives  him  occasion  to  display 
many  fine  qualities  and  virtues,  which  would  have 
bef.n  concealed  in  the  bosom  of  prosperity;  a  great- 
ness of  mind,  independent  of  every  thing  without; 
an  unshaken  coMfancy,  proof  against  tl.e  severest 
strokes  of  fortune;  an  intrepidity  of  soul  which  is 
animated  at  the  sight  of  danger;  a  fruitfulness  in  ex- 
pedients, improving  even  from  crosses  and  disap- 
pointments; a  presence  of  mind,  which  views  and 
provides  against  every  thing;  and,  lastly,  a  firmness 

«  Finer-  Traj. 

•  Tac.  Hut.  lib  i.  c.  15. 


of  soul,  that  not  only  suffices  to  itself,  t»ut  Vs  capable 
of  supporting  others. 

Cyrus  wanted  this  kind  of  glory.  He  himself  in- 
forms us,3  that  during  the  whole  course  of  his  life, 
which  was  pretty  long,  the  happiness  of  it  was  ne\er 
interrupted  by  any  unfortunate  accident;  and  that  in 
all  his  designs  the  success  had  answered  his  utmost 
expectation.  But  he  acquaints  us  at  the  same  tune, 
with  another  thing  almost  incredible,  and  which  was 
the  source  of  all  that  moderation  and  evenness  of 
temper  so  conspicuous  in  him,  and  for  which  he  can 
never  be  sufficiently  admired;  namely,  that  in  the 
midst  of  his  uninterrupted  prosperity  he  still  preserved 
in  his  heart  a  secret  fear,  proceeding  from  the  appre- 
hension of  the  changes  and  misfortunes  that  might 
happen;  and  this  prudent  fear  was  not  only  a  pre- 
servative against  insolence,  but  even  against  intem- 
perate joy.* 

There  remains  one  point  more  to  be  examined,  of 
great  importance  in  appreciating  this  prince's  reputa- 
tion and  character,  upon  which  however  1  shall  touch 
but  sii-rhtly;  I  mean  the  nature  of  his  victories  and 
conquests:  for  if  these  were  founded  only  upon  am- 
bition, injustice,  and  violence,  Cyrus  would  be  so  far 
from  meriting  the  praises  bestowed  upon  him,  that  h« 
would  deserve  to  be  ranked  only  among  those  famous 
robbers  of  the  universe,  those  public  enemies  to 
mankind,6  who  acknowledged  no  right  but  that  of 
force;  who  looked  upon  the  common  rules  of  justice 
as  laws  which  only  private  persons  were  obliged  to 
observe,  and  derogatory  to  the  majesty  of  kings; 
who  set  no  other  bounds  to  their  designs  and  preten- 
sions, than  their  incapacity  of  carrying  them  to  an 
equal  extent  with  their  wishes;  who  sacrificed  the  lives 
of  millions  to  their  particular  ambition;  who  made 
their  glory  to  consist  in  spreading  desolation  and  de- 
struction, like  an  inundation  or  a  conflagration;  and 
who  reigned  as  bears  and  lions  would  do,  if  they  were 
masters!* 

This  is  indeed  the  true  character  of  the  greatest 
part  of  those  pretended  heroes,  whom  the  world  ad- 
mires; and  by  such  ideas  as  these,  we  ought  to  cor- 
rect the  impression  made  upon  our  minds  by  the  un- 
due praises  of  some  historians,  and  the  sentiments  of 
many  deceived  by  false  images  of  grandeur. 

I  do  not  know  whether  1  am  not  biassed  in  favour 
of  Cyrus;  but  he  seems  to  me  to  have  been  of  a  very 
different  character  from  those  conquerors,  whom  I 
have  just  now  described.  Not  that  I  would  justify 
Cyrus  in  every  respect,  or  represent  him  as  exempt 
from  ambition,  which  undoubtedly  was  the  soul  of  all 
his  undertakings;  but  he  certainly  reverenced  the 
laws,  and  knew  that  there  are  unjust  wars,  in  which 
whoever  unseasonably  engages,  renders  himself  ac- 
countable for  all  the  blood  that  is  shed.  Now  every 
war  is  of  this  sort,  to  which  the  prince  is  induced  by 
no  other  motive  than  that  of  enlarging  his  conquests, 
of  acquiring  a  vain  reputation,  or  rendering  himself 
terrible  to  his  neighbours. 

Cyrus,"  as  we  have  seen,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
war  founded  all  his  hopes  of  success  on  the  justice  of 
his  cause,  and  represented  to  his  soldiers,  in  order  to 
inspire  them  with  the  greater  courage  and  confidence, 
that  they  were  not  the  aggressors;  that  it  was  th« 
enemy  that  attacked  them;  and  that  therefore  they 
were  entitled  to  the  protection  of  the  gods,  who  st-enn 
ed  themselves  to  have  put  arms  into  their  hands,  that 
they  might  fight  in  defence  of  their  friends  and  allies, 
unjustly  oppressed.  If  we  carefully  examine  Cyrus's 
conquests,  we  shall  find  that  they  were  all  conse- 
quences of  the  victories  he  obtained  over  Crcwus,  kin^ 
of  Lydia,  who  was  master  of  the  greatest  part  of  the 
Lesser  Asia;  and  over  the  king  of  Babylon,  who  was 
master  of  all  Upper  Asia,  and  many  other  countries, 
both  which  princes  were  the  aggressors. 


«  Cyroj).  1.  Tiii.  p.  234. 


>  Id  in  sumnia  fortuna  irquim  quod  validius.  El  «ua  ro- 
tinere,  private  domun  :  do  aliemi  ccrtare,  regiam  laudem 
eise.  Tacit.  Annul,  lib.  xv.  cap.  1. 

•  dtiie  alia  vita  es«ct  ,  li  leonc*  unique  rcjnsront  1  Sen.  it 
CUm.  lib.  i.  cap.  26.  »  Crrop.  1.  i.  p.  35 


HISTORY  OF  CAMBYSES. 


179 


Wiih  good  reason  therefore  is  Cyrus  represented  as 
one  of  the  greatest  princes  recorded  in  history;  and 
his  reign  justly  proposed  as  the  model  of  a  perfect 
government,  which  cannot  he  such,  unless  justice  is 
the  basis  and  foundation  of  it  :  Cyrut  u  Xenophonte 
tcriplus  adjusli  effigiern  itnperii.1 

SECTION  IV. — WHEREIN  HERODOTUS  AND  XENO- 
PHON DIFFER  IN  THEIR  ACCOUNTS  OF  CYRUS. 

HERODOTUS  and  Xenophon,  who  perfectly  agree 
in  what  may  he  considered  as  the  ground-work  and 
most  essential  part  of  Cyrus's  history,  and  particular- 
ly in  what  relates  to  his  expedition  against  Babylon, 
and  his  other  conquests;  yet  differ  extremely  in  the 
accounts  they  give  of  several  very  important  facts,  as 
the  birth  and  death  of  that  prince,  and  the  estaMish- 
nient  of  the  Persian  empire.  I  therefore  think  mvself 
obliged  to  give  a  succinct  account  of  what  Herodotus 
relates  as  to  these  points. 

He  tells  us,  as  Justin  does  after  him,*  that  Astya- 
ges,  king  of  the  Medes,  being  warned  by  a  frightful 
dream,  that  the  son  who  was  to  be  born  of  his  daugh- 
ter would  dethrone  him,  did  therefore  marry  his 
daughter  Mandane  to  a  Persian  of  obscure  birth  and 
fortune,  whose  name  was  Cambyses.  This  daughter 
being  delivered  of  a  son,  the  king  commanded  Harpa- 
gus,  one  of  his  principal  officers,  to  destroy  the  infant. 
He,  instead  of  killing  the  child,  put  it  into  the.  hands 
of  one  of  the  king's  shepherds,  and  ordered  him  to 
leave  it  exposed  in  a  forest.  But  the  child,  being  mi- 
raculously preserved,  and  secretly  brought  up  by  the 
shepherd's  wife,  was  afterwards  recognized  by  his 
grandfather,  xvho  contented  himself  with  banishing 
nim  to  the  most  remote  parts  of  Persia,  and  vented  all 
his  wrath  upon  the  unfortunate  Harpagus,  whom  he 
invited  to  a  feast,  and  caused  him  to  feed  on  the  flesh 
of  his  own  son.  Several  years  after,  young  Cyrus, 
being  informed  by  Harpagus  who  he  was,  and  being- 
encouraged  by  his  counsels  and  remonstrances,  raised 
an  army  in  Persia,  marched  against  Astyages,  defeat- 
ed him  in  a  battle,  and  so  transferred  the  empire  from 
the  Medes  to  the  Persians. 

The  same  Herodotus  makes  Cyrus  die  in  a  manner 
little  becoming  so  great  a  conqueror.3  This  prince, 
according  to  him,  carried  his  arms  against  the  Scy- 
thians; and,  after  having  attacked  them,  in  the  first 
battle  pretended  to  fly,  leaving  a  great  quantity  of 
wine  and  provisions  behind  him  in  the  field.  The 
Scythians  did  not  fail  to  seize  the  booty.  When  they 
had  drunk  largely,  and  were  asleep,  Cyrus  returned 
upon  them,  ami  obtained  an  easy  victory,  taking  a  vast 
number  of  prisoners,  amongst  whom  was  the  son  of  the 
queen,  named  Tomyris,  who  commanded  the  army. 
This  young  prince,  whom  Cyrus  refused  to  restore  to 
his  mother,  being  recoveretf  from  his  drunken  fit,  and 
not  able  to  endure  to  see  himself  a  prisoner,  killed 
himself  with  his  own  hand.  His  mother  Tomyris, 
animated  with  a  desire  of  revenge,  gave  the  Persians 
a  second  battle,  and  feigning  a  flight,  as  they  had  done 
before,  by  that  means  drew  them  into  an  ambush, 
and  killed  above  200,000  of  their  men,  together  with 
their  king  Cyrus.  Then  ordering  Cyrus's  head  to  be 
cut  off,  she  flung  it  into  a  vessel  full  of  blood,  insult- 
ing him  lit  the  same  time  with  these  opprobrious 
words:  A"iw  pint  thyself  with  blood,  in  which  than 
hail  ahi'ays  delighted,  and  of  which  thy  thirst  has  al- 
ways been  insatiable.* 

The  account  given  by  Herodotus  of  Cyrus's  infancy 
and  first  adventures,  has  much  more  the  air  of  a  ro- 
mance than  of  a  history.  And,  as  to  the  manner  of 
his  death,  what  probability  is  there,  that  a  prince,  go 
experienced  in  war,  and  no  less  renowned  for  his  pru- 
dence than  for  his  bravery,  should  go  easily  fall  into 
an  ambuscade  laid  by  a  woman  for  him?  What  the 
same  historian  relates  concerning  his  impetuosity  and 
passion,5  and  his  childish  revenge  upon  the  river,  in 
which  one  of  his  sacred  horses  was  drowned,  and 


i  Tic.  I.  i.  Epist.  1.  add.  frMrem. 
*  Herod.  I.  i.  r.  107—130.     Justin.  I.  i.  c.  4.  6. 
»  Ik  I.  i.  c.  205—214.     Ih.  I.  i.  c.  R. 
«  Satin  IP.  inquit,  sansuinc,  quern  sitisti,  cojusqoe  it 
•bills  semper  fuisti.     Justin.  1.  i.e.  8. 
>  Ik  rod  1.  i.  c.  139 


iti- 


which  he  immediately  caused  to  be  cut  by  his  army 
into  360  channels,  is  directly  repugnant  to  the  idea 
we  have  of  Cyrus  whose  distinguishing;  characteristic 
was  mildness  and  moderation.  Besides,6  is  it  at  all 
probable,  that  C}TUS,  who  was  marching  to  the  con- 
quest of  Babylon,  should  so  idly  waste  his  time  when 
so  precious  to  him,  should  spend  the  ardour  of  his 
troops  in  such  an  unprofitable  work,  and  miss  the 
opportunity  of  surprising  the  Babylonians,  by  amus- 
ing himself  with  a  ridiculous  war  with  a  river,  instead 
of  carrying  it  against  his  enemies? 

But,  what  decides  this  point  unanswerably  in  fa- 
vour of  Xenophon,  is  the  conformity  we  find  between 
his  narrative  and  the  Holy  Sciipture;  where  we  see 
that,  instead  of  Cyrus's  having  raised  the  Persian  em- 
pire upon  the  ruins  of  that  of  the  Medes  (as  Herodotus 
relates,)  those  two  nations  attacked  Babylon  together, 
and  united  their  forces,  to  reduce  the  formidable  pow- 
er of  the  Bain  Ionian  monarchy. 

From  whence,  then,  could  so  great  a  difference 
between  these  two  historians  proceed?  Herodotus 
himself  explains  it  to  us.  In  the  very  place  where  he 

fives  the  account  of  Cyrus's  birth,  and  in  that  where 
e  speaks  of  his  death,  he  acquaints  us  that,  even  at 
that  time,  those  two  great  events  were  related  differ- 
ent ways.  Herodotus  followed  that  which  pleased 
him  best,  for  it  appears  that  he  was  fond  of  extraor- 
dinary and  wonderful  things,  and  readily  gave  credit 
to  them.  Xenophon  was  of  a  graver  disposition,  and 
less  credulous;  anil  in  the  very  beginning  of  his  his- 
tery  acquaints  us,  that  he  had  taken  great  care  and 
pains  to  inform  himself  of  Cyrus's  birth,  education 
and  character. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  HISTORY   OF   CAMBYSES. 

As   soon  as  Cambvses  ascended 
the  throne,7  he  resolved  to  make  A.  M.  3475. 

war  against  Egypt,  for  a  particular  Ant.  J.  C.  529. 
affront,  which,  according  to  Hero- 
dotus, he  pretended  to  have  received  from  Amnsis: 
but  it  is  more  probable  that  Amasis,  who  had  submit- 
ted to  Cyrus,  and  become  tributary  to  him,  might 
draw  this  war  upon  himself,  by  refusing,  after  Cyrus's 
death,  to  pay  the  same  homage  and  tribute  to  his  suc- 
cessor, and  by  attempting  to  shake  off  his  yoke. 

Cambyses,"  in  order  to  carry  on  the  war  with  suc- 
cess, made  vast  preparations  both  by  sea  and  land. 
The  Cypriots  and  Phoenicians  furnished  him  with 
ships.  As  for  his  land  army,  he  added  to  his  own 
troops  a  great  number  of  Grecians,  lonians,  and  JEo- 
lians,  which  made  up  the  principal  part  of  his  forces. 
But  none,  was  of  greater  service  to  him  in  this  war, 
than  Phanes  of  Helicarnassus,  who  being  the  com- 
mander of  some  auxiliary  Greeks,  in  the  service  of 
Amasis,  and  being  some  way  or  other  dissatisfied  ivith 
that  prince,  came  over  to  Cambvses,  and  gave  him 
such  intelligence  concerning  the  nature  of  the  coun- 
try, the  strength  of  the  enemy,  and  the  state  of  his 
affairs,  as  very  much  facilitated  the  success  of  his  ex- 
pedition. It  was  particularly  by  his  advice,  that  he 
contracted  with  an  Arabian  king,  whose  territories 
bordered  upon  Palestine  and  Egypt,  to  furnish  his 
army  with  water  during  their  march  through  the  de- 
sert that  lay  between  these  two  countries:  which 
agreement  that  prince  fulfilled,  by  sending  the  water 
on  the  backs  of  camels,  without  which  Cambyses 
could  never  have  marched  his  army  that  way. 

Having  made  all  these  preparations,9  he  invaded 
Egypt  in  the  fourth  year  of  his  reign.  When  he  ar- 
rived upon  the  frontiers,  he  was  informed  that  Amasis 
was  just  dead,  and  that  Psammr iiitus,  his  son,  who 
succeeded  him,  was  busy  in  gathering  all  his  forces 
together,  to  hinder  him"  from  penetrating  into  his 
kingdom.  Before  Cambyses  could  open  a  passage 
into  the  country,  it  was  necessary  he  should  render 
himself  master  of  Pelusium,  which  was  the  key  of 


•  Sen.  1.  Hi.  3.  de  Ira,  e.  21. 
i  Herod.  I.  iii.  e.  1—3. 
»  Ibid.  c.  10 


•  Ibid.  e.  4—0. 


180 


HISTORY  OF  CAMBYSES. 


Egypt  on  the  side  he  invaded  it.  Now  Pelusium  was 
•o  strong  a  place,  that  in  all  likelihood  it  must  have 
stopped  him  a  great  while.  But,  according  to  Poly- 
senus,  to  facilitate  the  capture  of  this  city,  Cambyses 
invented  the  following  stratagem.1  Being  informed 
that  the  whole  garrison  consisted  of  Egyptians,  he 
placed  in  the  front  of  his  army  a  great  number  of  cats, 
dogs,  sheep,  and  olher  animals,  which  were  looked 
upon  as  s;u:red  by  that  nation:  and  then  attacked  the 
citv  by  storm.  The  soldiers  of  the  garrison  not  daring 
either  to  Hing  a  dart,  or  shoot  an  arrow  that  way,  for 
fear  of  hitting  some  of  these  animals,  Cambyses  be- 
came master  of  the  place  without  opposition. 

When  Cambyses  had  got  possession  of  the  citv,2 
Psamnienitus  advanced  with  a  great  army,  to  stop  hi? 
progress;  and  a  fierce  battle  ensued  between  them. 
But  before  they  engaged,  the  Greeks  who  were  in 
Psammenitus'sarmy,  in  orderto be  revenged  of  Phanes 
for  his  revo  t,  took  his  children,  which  he  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  in  Egypt  when  he  fled,  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  t>vo  armies,  cut  their  throats  and  drank 
their  blood.  This  outrageous  cruelty  did  not  procure 
them  the  victory.  The  Persians,  enraged  at  so  horrid 
a  spectacle,  fell  upon  them  with  such  fury,  that  they 
quickly  routed  and  overthrew  the  whole  Egyptian 
army,  of  which  the  greatest  part  were  killed  upon  the 
spot.  Those  that  could  save  themselves  escaped  to 
Memphis. 

On  the  occasion  of  this  battle,'  Herodotus  takes 
notice  of  ar  extraordinary  circumstance,  of  which  he 
himself  was  a  witness.  The  bones  of  the  Persians 
and  Egyptians  were  still  in  the  place  where  the  battle 
was  fought,  but  separated  from  one  another.  The 
skulls  of  the  Egyptians  were  so  hard,  that  a  violent 
stroke  of  a  stone  would  hardly  break  them;  and  those 
of'the  Persians  so  soft,  that  they  might  be  pierced 
through  with  the  greatest  ease  imaginable.  The  rea- 
son of  this  difference  was.  that  the  former,  from  their 
infancy,  were  accustomed  to  have  their  heads  shaved, 
ind  go  uncovered,  whereas  the  latter  had  their  heads 
always  covered  with  their  tiaras,  which  is  one  of  their 
principal  ornaments. 

Cambyses,  having  pursued  the  runaways  to  Mem- 
phis,4 sent  a  herald  into  the.  city,  in  a  vessel  of  Mity- 
iene,  by  the  river  Nile,  on  which  Memphis  stood,  to 
summon  the  inhabitants  to  surrender.  But  the  people, 
transported  with  rage,  fell  upon  the  herald,  and  tore 
him  to  pieces,  and  all  that  were  with  him.  Cambyses 
having  soon  after  taken  the  place,  fully  revenged  the 
indignity,  causing  ten  times  as  many  Egyptians,  of  the 
nighest  rank,  as  there  had  been  persons  massacred  in 
the  vessel,  to  be  publicly  executed.  Among  these  was 
the  eldest  son  of  Psamnienitus.  As  for  the  king  him- 
self, Cambyses  was  inclined  to  treat  him  kindly.  He 
not  only  spared  his  life,  but  appointed  him  an  honour- 
able maintenance.  But  the  Egyptian  monarch,  little 
affected  with  this  kind  usage,  endeavoured  to  raise 
new  troubles  and  commotions,  in  order  to  recover  his 
kingdom;  as  a  punishment  for  which  he  was  made  to 
drink  bull's  blood,  and  died  immediately.  His  reign 
lasted  but  six  months;  after  wh'ich  all  Egypt  submit- 
ted to  the  conqueror.  On  the  news  of  this  success, 
the  Libyans,  the  Cyrenians,  and  the  Barceans,  all 
sent  anibass-idors  with  presents  to  Cambyses,  to  make 
their  submission. 

From  Memphis  he  went  to  the  city  of  Sais,5  which 
was  tht  burying-place  of  the  kings  of  Egypt.  As  soon 
as  he  entered  the  palace,  he  caused  the  body  of  Amasis 
to  be  taken  out  of  its  tomb;  and  after  having  exposed 
it  to  a  thousand  indignities  in  his  own  presence,  he 
ordered  it  to  be  cast  into  the  fire,  and  to  be  burnt; 
which  was  a  thing  equally  contrary  to  the  customs  of 
the  Persians  and  Egyptians.  The  rage  which  this 
prince  testified  against  the  dead  body  of  Amasis  shows 
to  what  a  decree  he  hated  his  person.  Whatever  was 
the  cause  of  that  aversion,  it  seems  to  have  been  one 
of  the  chief  motives  that  induced  Cambyses  to  carry- 
bis  arms  into  Egypt. 

The  next  year,'  which  was  the  sixth  of  his  reign, 


i  Polyten.  1.  vii. 

•  Ihid.c.  12. 

•  Ibid.  c.  16. 


»  Herod.  I.  iii.  c.  11. 
«  Ibid.  e.  13. 
•  Ibid.  e.  17—19. 


he  resolved  to  make  war  in  thiee  different  quarters, 
against  the  Carthaginians,  the  Amnionians,  and  the 
Ethiopians.  The  first  of  these  projects  he  was  obliged 
to  lay  aside,  because  the  Phu-nicians,  without  whose 
assistance  he  could  not  carry  on  thai  war,  refused  to 
aid  him  against  the  Carthaginians,  who  were  descend- 
ed from  them,  Carthage  being  originally  a  Tyrian 
colony. 

But  being  determined  to  invade  the  other  two 
nations,7  he  sent  ambassadors  into  Ethiopia,  who, 
under  that  character,  were  to  act  as  spies  for  ).im,and 
to  learn  the  state  and  strength  of  the  country,  and 
give  him  intelligence  of  both.  They  carried  present! 
along  with  them,  such  as  the  Persians  were  used  to 
make,  as  purple,  golden  bracelets,  compound  per- 
fumes, and  wine.  These  presents,  amongst  which 
there  was  nothing  useful,  or  serviceable  to  lift-, except 
the  wine,  were  despised  by  the  Ethiopians;  neither 
did  they  make  much  more  account  of  his  ambassadors, 
whom  they  took  for  what  they  really  were,  that  is,  for 
spies.  However,  the  king  of  Ethiopia  was  willing, 
after  his  way,  to  make  a  present  to  the  king  of  Per- 
sia; and,  taking  a  bow  in  his  hands,  which  a  Persian 
was  so  far  from  being  able  to  draw,  that  he  could 
scarce  lift  it,  he  bent  it  in  presence  of  the  ambassadors, 
and  told  them:  "This  is  the  present,  and  the  counsel 
the  king  of  Ethiopia  gives  the  king  of  Persia.  When 
the  Persians  shall  be  able  to  use  a  bow  of  this  bigness 
and  strength,  with  as  much  ease  as  I  have  now  bent 
it,  then  let  them  come,  to  attack  the  Ethiopians,  and 
bring  more  troops  with  them  than  Cambyses  is  master 
of.  In  the  mean  time,  let  them  thank  the  gods  for  not 
having  put  into  the  hearts  of  the  Ethiopians  a  wish  to 
extend  their  dominions  beyond  their  own  country." 

This  answer  having  enraged  Cambyses,8  he  com- 
manded his  army  to  begin  their  march  immediately, 
without  considering,  that  he  neither  had  provisions 
nor  any  thing  necessary  for  such  an  expedition;  but 
he  left  the  Grecians  behind  him,  in  his  new  conquered 
country,  to  keep  it  in  subjection  during  his  absence. 

As  soon  as  he  arrived  at  Thebes,9  in  Upper  Egypt, 
he  detached  50,000  of  his  men  against  the  Ammoni- 
ans,  ordering  them  to  ravage  the  country,  and  to 
destroy  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ammon,10  which  was 
situated  there.  But  after  se\eral  days'  march  in  the 
desert,  a  violent  wind  blowing  from  the  south,  brought 
such  a  vast  quantity  of  sand  upon  the  army,  that  the 
men  were  all  overwhelmed  and  buried  uncfer  it. 

In  the  mean  time  Cambyses  marched  forwards  like 
a  madman  against  the  Ethiopians,  notwithstanding 
his  being  destitute  of  all  sorts  of  provisions;  which 
quickly  caused  a  terrible  famine  in  his  army.  He  had 


•>  Herod.  I.  iii.  c.  20—24. 

i  Ibid,  c.  25.  •  Ibid.  c.  25-2G. 

i»  [The  Oasis  of  Seewah,  where  the  Temple  of  Jupiter 
Ammon  was  situated,  was  G  miles  long,  by  4  or  5  wide.  It 
is  distant  12  days'  journey  west  of  Cairo;  the  same  from 
Charje,  the  principal  tillage  of  El-vvah  or  the  Greater  Oasis; 
and  ]4  days'  journey  from  Dernah,  on  the  coast,  and  118 
miles  south  of  Pnrittonium.on  the  coast  now  caller!  A I  Barn- 
ton.  This  last  was  the  place  whence  Alexander  set  out  in- 
land to  visit  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ammon,  lifter  having  gone 
along  thn  shore  for  a  spnco  of  1600  madia. 

Brown's  description  of  Seewah,  or  the  Oasis  of  Ammon, 
exactly  harmonizes  wilh  those  of  Herodotus,  Diodorus,  Ar- 
riati,  Curtius,  Straho,  and  with  the  Arabian  geographers,  ai 
Edrisi,  Jacut,  Abulfcdn.  and  Ebn  al  Wardi;so  that  there 
can  be  no  reason;il>le  doubt  ofthe  identity  of  the  modern  Se«- 
wcb,  or  Schantariah,  with  the  ancient  Oasis  of  Ammon. 

The  ruins,  so  fares  they  have  been  examined,  beiira  ntrik- 
ing  similarity  to  the  Egyptian  temples,  in  point  of  form  and 
architecture.  Mr.  Brown  thought  he  discovered  two  figures 
sculptured  on  the  walls  with  rams'  heads  Jupiier  Am- 
mon's  statue  was  represented  with  the  head  of  a  ram,  and 
was  worshipped  at  Carthage,  Libya,  and  Ethiopia.  There 
wss  a  temple  and  oracle  of  Ammon  at  Manx;,  according  to 
Herodotus  and  Pliny;  and  the  latter  says,  that  round  the 
track  of  Meroe,  there  were  many  Sacella  or  chapels.  Otiri* 
was  the  principal  deity  of  the  Evyptiaiu — Ammon  of  the 
Ethiopians;  from  whom  il  is  probable  it  descended  the  Nile, 
and  spread  west  into  Libya.  There  is  not  the  srnalleit 
d  >ubt  now  remaining,  after  the  researches  of  Legh,  Bclmore, 
Burchardt,  and  Waddington  in  Nubia,  that  the  ruined  tem- 
ples and  pyramids  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  as  high  up  a* 
Shendy.  are  much  more  ancient,  than  any  in  Egypt  ;  and  thai 
the  gods  of  thai  country,  arii!  especially  Jupiter  Ammon,  do* 
•cended  the  Nile  to  Thebee,  Dendera,  and  Memphis.'} 


HISTORY  OF  CAMBYSES. 


181 


itill  lime,  gays  Herodotus,  to  remedy  this  evil;  but 
Camhyses  would  have  thought  it  a  dishonour  tc  have 
desisted  from  his  undertaking,  and  therefore  he  pro- 
teeded  in  his  expedition.  At  first  his  army  'was 
obliged  to  live,  upon  herbs,  roots,  and  leaves  of  trees; 
but  coming;  afterwards  into  a  country  entirely  barren, 
they  were  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  eating  their 
beasts  of  burden.  At  last  tliev  were  brought  to  such 
a  cruel  extremity,  as  to  be  obliged  to  eat  one  another; 
every  tenth  man,  upon  whom  the  lot  fell,  being  doom- 
ed to  serve  as  food  for  his  companions;  a  food,  savs 
Seneca,  more  cruel  and  terrible  than  famine  itself: 
Dccimiimqnemqiie  sortiti,alimentiim  halnierimtfome 
tavitis.*  .Notwithstanding  all  this,  the  king  still 
persisted  in  his  design,  or  rather  in  his  madness,  nor 
old  the  miserable  desolation  of  his  army  make  him 
sensible  of  his  error.  But  at  length,  beginning  to  be 
afraid  of  his  own  person,  he  ordered  them  to  return. 
During  all  this  dreadful  famine  among  the  troops 
(who  would  believe  it?)  there  was  no  abatement  of 
delicacies  at  his  table,  and  the  camels  were  still 
reserved  that  were  loaded  with  every  thing  that  was 
requisite  to  set  out  a  sumptuous  table.  Ser?nl>antnr 
illi  in! trim  gcnerosce  fives,  et  ins/nimenta  epiilanim 
Cornell*  vehebantnr,  dim  sortirentur  milites  ejut  quit 
mat'  periret,  quis  ptjits  viveret.2 

The  remainder  of  his  army,  of  which  the  greatest 
part  was  lost  in  h:s  expedition,  he  brought  bark  to 
Thebes:  where  he  succeeded  much  better  in  the  war 
he  declared  against  the  gods,3  whom  he  found  more 
easy  to  be  conquered  than  men.  Thebes  was  full  of 
temples,  whose  riches  and  magnificence  were  almost 
incredible.  All  these  Cambyses  pillaged,  and  then 
sit  them  on  fire.  The  wealth  of  these"  temples  must 
have  been  vastly  great,  since  the  very  remains  saved 
from  the  flames  amounted  to  an  im'mense  sum,  300 
talent?  of  gold,  and  2300  talents  of  silver.  He  like- 
wise carried  away  at  this  time  the  famous  circle  of 
gold  that  encompassed  the  tomb  of  kingO*ymandya«,« 
which  was  365  cubits  in  circumference,  and  in  w'hich 
were  represented  all  the  motions  of  the  several  con- 
stellations. 

From  Thebes  he  went  back  to  Memphis,  where  he 
dimmed  all  the  Greeks,  and  sent  them  to  their 
respective  homes;*  but  on  his  return  into  the  city, 
finding  it  full  of  rejoicings,  he  fell  into  a  great  rage, 
supposing  this  exultation  to  be  on  account  of  the  ill 
success  of  his  expedition.  He  therefore  called  the 
inagistrates  before  him,  to  know  the  meaning  of  these 
public  rejoicings;  and  upon  their  telling  him,  that  it 
\va?  because  they  had  found  their  god  Apis,  he  would 
not  believe  them,  Vint  caused  them  to  be  put  to  death 
as  impostors  thnt  insulted  him  and  hi*  misfortunes. 
He  then  ?ent  for  the  priests,  who  made  him  the  same 
answer;  upon  which  he  replied,  that  since  their  god 
was  FO  kind  and  familiar  as  to  appear  among  them, 
he  would  be  acquainted  with  him,  and  therefore 
commanded  him  forthwith  to  be  brought  to  him. 
But  when,  instead  of  a  god,  he  saw  a  calf,  he  was 
strangely  astonished,  and  falling  Bgain  into  a  rage,  he 
drew  out  his  dagger  and  run  it  into  the  thigh  of  the 
bea*t:  and  then  r.phraiding  the  priests  for  their  stu- 
pidity in  worshipping  a  brute  for  a  god,  he  ordered 
them  to  be  severely  scourged,  and  all  the  Firyplimis 
in  Memphis,  that  should  he  found  celebrating  the 
feast  of  Apis,  to  be  slain.  The  god  was  carried  back 
to  the  temple,  where  he  languished  of  his  wound  for 
sonip  time,  and  then  died. 

The.  Fgyptians  say,6  that  after  this  fact,  which 
they  reckon  to  have  been  the  highest  instance  of 
impiety  thnt  ever  was  committed  among  them.  Cam- 
byses crew  mad.  But  his  actions  showed  him  to 
have  been  mad  long  before,  of  which  he  continued 
to  eive  various  instances:  among  the  rest  are  these 

f   li 

following. 

He  had  a  brother,7  the  only  son  of  Cyrus  besides 
himself,  and  horn  of  the  same  mother:  his  name, 
iccordinar  to  Xenophon.  was  THnaoxare«,  but  Hero- 
dotus calls  him  Smerdis,  and  Justin,  Mergis.  He 


»  DP  IrS.  I.  iii.  c.  00.         »  Ihid.         •  l>iod   Sin.  1.  i  p.  43. 
4  J)iod.  Sic.  I.  i.  p.  40.  •  Hetnd.  1.  iii.  c.  27—29. 

•  Ibid.  r.  30  i  Ibid.  c.  30. 


accompanied  Cambyses  in  his  Egyptian  expedition: 
but  being  the  only  person  among  all  the  Persians  thai 
could  draw  the  bow  which  had  been  brought  from  the 
king  of  F.thiopia,  Cambyses  from  hence  conceived 
such  a  jealousy  against  him,  that  he  could  bear  him 
no  lonffer  in  the  army,  but  sent  him  back  into  Persia. 
And  not  long  after,  dreaming  that  a  messenger  had 
arrived  to  inform  him  that  Smerdis  sat  on  the  throne, 
he  conceived  a  suspicion  that  his  brother  aspired  to 
the  kingdom,  and  sent  after  him  into  Persia  Prexaspes, 
one  of  his  chief  confidants,  with  orders  to  put  him  to 
death,  which  were  accordingly  executed. 

This  murder  was  the  cause  of  another  still  more 
criminal.8  Cambyses  had  with  him  in  the  camp  his 
youngest  sister,  whose  name  was  Meroe.  Herodotus 
acquaints  us  after  what  a  strange  manner  this  sister 
became  his  wife.  As  the  princess  was  exceedingly 
beautiful,  Cambyses  absolutely  resolved  to  marry  her. 
To  that  end  he  called  together  all  the  judges  of  the 
Persian  nation,  to  whom  belonged  the  interpretation 
of  their  laws,  to  know  of  them  whether  there  was 
any  law  that  would  allow  a  brother  to  marry  a  sister. 
The  judges  being  unwilling  on  the  one  hand  directly 
to  authorise  such  an  incestuous  marriage,  and  on  the 
other,  fearing  the  king's  violent  temper,  should  they 
contradict  him,  endeavoured  to  find  out  a  salvo,  and 
gave  him  this  crafty  answer:  That  they  had  no  law 
which  permitted  a  brother  to  marry  his  sister,  but 
they  had  a  law  which  allowed  the  king  of  Persia  to 
do  "what  he  pleased.  And  this  answer  serving  his 
purpose  as  well  as  a  direct  approbation,  he  solemnly 
married  her,  and  hereby  gave  the  first  example  of  that 
incest,  which  was  afterwards  practised  by  most  of  his 
successors,  and  by  some  of  them  carried  so  far  as  to 
marry  their  own  daughters,  how  repugnant  soever  it 
be  to  modesty  and  good  order.  This  princess  he  car- 
ried with  him  in  all  his  expeditions,  and  from  her  he 
gave  the  name  of  Meroe  to  an  island  in  the  Nile,  be- 
tween Fgypt  and  F.thiopia,  so  far  he  advanced  in  his 
wild  march  against  the  Ethiopians.  The  circumslance 
that  gave  occasion  to  his  murdering  tliis  princess  was 
as  follows.  One  day  Cambyses  was  diverting  himself 
in  seeing  a  combat  between  a  young  lion  and  a  young 
dog:  the  lion  having  the  better,  another  dog,  brother 
to  him  that  was  engaged,  came  to  his  assistance,  and 
helped  him  to  master  the  lion.  This  incident  highly 
delighted  Cambyse?,  but  drew  tears  from  Meroe,  who 
being  obliged  to  tell  her  husband  the  reason  of  her 
weeping,  confessed  that  this  combat  mnde  her  call  to 
mind  the  fate  of  her  brother  Smerdis,  who  had  not 
the  same  good  fortune  as  that  little  dog.  There  need- 
ed no  more  than  this  to  excite  the  rage  of  this  brutal 
prince,  who  immediately  gave  her,  notwithstanding 
her  being  with  child,  such  a  blow  with  his  foot  on  the 
belly,  that  she  died  of  it.  So  abominable  a  marriage 
deserved  no  better  an  end. 

He  caused  also  several  of  the  principal  of  his  fol- 
lowers to  be  buried  alive,9  and  daily  sacrilic'ed  some 
or  other  of  them  to  his  wild  fury.  He  had  obliged 
Prexaspes,  one  of  his  principal  officers  and  his  chief 
confidant,  to  declare  to  him  what  his  Persian  subjects 
thought  and  said  of  him.  "  They  admire.  Sir,"  says 
Prexaspes,  •' a  great  many  excellent  qualities  which 
they  see  in  you,  hut  they  are  somewhat  mortified  at 
your  immoderate  love  of  wine."  "  I  understand  you," 
replied  the  king;  "that  is.  they  pretend  that  wine 
deprives  me  of  mv  reason.  You  shall  be  judge  of  that 
immediately. "  Cpon  which  he  began  to  drink  ex- 
cessively, pouring  it  down  in  larger  quantities  than 
ever  he  had  done  at  any  time  before.  Th<n  ordering 
Prexaspes'g  son,  who  was  his  chief  cup-bearer,  to 
stand  upright  at  the  end  of  the  room,  with  his  left 
hand  upon  his  head,  he  took  his  bow,  and  levelled  it 
at  him;  and  declaring  that  he  aimed  at  his  heart,  let 
fly,  and  actually  shot  him  in  the  heart.  He  then  or- 
dered his  side  to  be  opened,  and  showing  Prexaspes 
the  heart  of  his  son,  which  the  arrow  had  pierced, 
asked  him  in  an  exulting  and  scoffing  manner,  if  he 
had  not  a  steady  hand?  The  wretched  father,  who 
ought  not  to  have  had  either  voice  or  life  remaining 


•  Herod.  1.  iii.  c.  31.32. 

>  Ibid.  c.  34.  35.     Sen.  1.  iii.  de  Ira.  c.  14. 

Q 


182 


HISTORY  OF  CAMBYSES. 


•Aer  a  stroke  !ilce  this,  was  so  mean-spirited  as  to  re- 
ply, Apollo  himself  could  not  have  shot  better.  Sen- 
eca, who  copied  this  story  from  Herodotus,  after  hav- 
ing shown  his  detestation  of  the  barbarous  cruelty  of 
the  prince,  condemns  still  more  the  cowardly  and 
"jonstrous  flattery  of  the  father:  SceleratiiA  telum 
illud  lauJaturn  est,qu<im  misstim. 

When  Croesus  took  upon  him  to  advise  Cambyses 
against  his  conduct,  which  disgusted  every  one,  and 
laid  before  him  the  ill  consequences  that  might  result 
from  it,  he  ordered  him  to  be  put  to  death.1  And 
when  those  who  received  his  orders,  knowing  he 
would  repent  of  it  the  next  day,  deferred  the  execu- 
tion, he  caused  them  all  to  be  put  to  death,  because 
they  had  not  obeyed  his  commands,  though  at  the 
same  time  he  expressed  great  joy  th.il  Croesus  was 
alive. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Oretes,  one  of  Cam- 
by  ses's  satrapae,  who  had  the  government  of  Sardis, 
after  a  very  strange  and  extraordinary  manner  brought 
about  the  death  of  Polycrates,  tyrant  of  Saiuos.  The 
story  of  this  Polycrates  is  of  so  singular  a  nature,  that 
the  reader  will  not  be  displeased  if  I  repeat  it  here. 

This  Polycratts  was  a  prince,8  who  through  the 
whole  course  of  his  life  had  been  uniformly  prosper- 
ous and  successful  in  all  his  affairs,  and  had  never  met 
with  the  least  disappointment  or  unfortunate  accident 
to  disturb  his  felicity.  Amasis,  king  of  Egypt,  his 
friend  and  ally,  thought  himself  obliged  to  send  him 
a  letter  of  admonition  upon  that  subject.  He  declared 
to  him  that  he  had  alarming  apprehensions  concern- 
ing his  condition;  that  such  a  long  and  uninterrupted 
course  of  prosperity  was  to  be  suspected;  that  some 
malignant,  invidious  god,  who  looks  upon  the  fortune 
of  men  with  a  jealous  eye,  would  certainly  sooner  or 
later  bring  rum  and  destruction  upon  him;  that  in 
order  to  prevent  such  a  fatal  stroke,  he  advised  him 
to  procure  some  misfortune  to  himself,  by  some  volun- 
tary loss,  that  he  was  persuaded  would  prove  a  sen- 
sible mortification  to  him. 

The  tyrant  followed  this  advice.  Having  an  eme- 
rald ring,  which  he  highly  esteemed,  particularly  for 
its  curious  workmanship,  as  he  was  walking  upon 
the  deck  of  one  of  his  galleys  with  his  courtiers,  he 
threw  it  into  the  sea  without  any  one's  perceiving  what 
he  ha. I  done.  Not  many  days  after,  some  fishermen, 
having  caught  a  fish  of  an  extraordinary  sire,  mude  a 
present  of  it  to  Polycrates.  When  the  fish  came  to 
pe  opened,  the  king's  ring  was  found  in  the  belly  of 
it.  His  surprise  was  very  great,  and  his  joy  still 
greater. 

When  Amasis  heard  what  had  happened,  he  was 
yery  differently  affected  with  it.  He  wrote  another  ! 
letter  to  Polvcrates,  telling  him  that,  to  avoid  the 
mortification 'of  seeing  his  friend  and  ally  fall  into 
some  grievous  calamity,  he  from  that  time  renounced 
his  friendship  and  alliance.  A  strange  whimsical  no- 
tion this!  as  if  friendship  was  merely  a  name,  or  a 
title,  destitute  of  all  substance  and  reality. 

Be  that  as  it  will,  the  thing,  however,  did  really 
happen  as  the  Egyptian  king  apprehended.3  Some 
years  after,  about  the  time  Cambyses  fell  sick,  Oretes, 
who,  as  I  said  before,  was  his  governor  at  Sardis,  not 
being  able  to  bear  the  reproach  which  another  satrap 
had  made  him  in  a  private  quarrel,  of  his  not  having 
yet  conquered  the  isle  of  Samos,  which  lay  so  near 
hi*  government,  and  would  be  so  commodious  for  his 
nrt-ter;  upon  this  resolved  at  any  rate  to  destroy 
Polycrates,  that  he  might  get  possession  of  the  island. 
The  way  he  took  to  effect  his  design  was  this.  He 
wrote  to  Polycrates  that,  in  consequence  of  informa- 
tion upon  which  he  could  depend,  Cambyses  intended 
to  destroy  him  by  assassination,  he  designed  to  with- 
draw to  Samos,  and  there  to  secure  his  treasure  and 
effects;  for  which  end  h->.  was  determined  to  deposit 
thfin  in  the  hands  of  Polycrates,  and  at  the  same 
time  make  him  a  present  of  one  half  of  it,  which  would 
enable  him  to  conquer  Ionia  nnd  the  adjacent  islands, 
»  project  he  had  long  had  in  view.  Oretes  knew  the 
tyrant  loved  money,  and  passionately  coveted  to  en- 


*  Herod.  1.  iii.  n  3<i 

•  Ibid.  c.  ia>— 125. 


•  Ibid.  30-43 


large  his  dominions.  He  therefore  laid  that  doublf 
bait  before  him,  by  which  he  equally  tempted  his 
avarice  and  ambition.  Polycrates,  that  he  might  not 
rashly  engage  in  an  affair  of  that  importance,  thought 
it  proper  to  inform  himself  more  surcjy  of  the  truth 
of  the  matter,  and  to  that  end  sent  a  messenger  of  his 
own  to  Sardis  Oretes  had  caused  eight  large  chests 
to  be  filled  with  stones  almost  to  the  top,  but  had 
covered  the  stones  with  pieces  of  gold  coin.  These 
chests  were  packed  up,  and  appeared  ready  to  be  sent 
on  board  ship;  but  they  were  opened  before  the  mes- 
senger, on  his  arrival,  and  he  supposed  that  they 
were  filled  with  gold.  As  soon  as  he  was  returned 
home,  Polycrates,  impatient  to  go  and  seize  his  prey, 
»et  out  for  Sardis,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  all  his 
friends;  and  took  along  with  him  Democedes,  a  cele- 
brated physician  of  Crotona.  Immediately  on  hi* 
arrival,  Oretes  had  him  arrested,  as  an  enemy  to  the 
state,  and  as  such  caused  him  to  be  hanged:  in  such 
an  ignominious  and  shameful  manner  did  he  end  a  life 
which  had  been  but  one  continued  series  of  prosperity 
and  good  fortune. 

Cambyses,4  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  year  of 
his  reign,  left  Egypt,  in  order  to  return  into  Persia. 
When  he  came  into  Syria,  he  found  a  herald  there, 
sent  from  Susa  to  the  army,  to  let  them  know  that 
Smerdis,  the  son  of  Cyrus,  had  been  proclaimed  king, 
and  to  command  them  all  to  obey  him.  This  event 
had  been  brought  about  in  the  following  manner 
Cambyses,  at  his  departure  from  Susa  on  his  Egyp- 
tian expedition,  had  left  the  administration  of  affairs 
during  his  absence  in  the  hands  of  Patisithes,  one  of 
the  chief  of  the  Magi.  This  Patisithes  had  a  brother 
extremely  like  Smerdis,  the  son  of  Cyrus,  and  who 
perhaps  for  that  reason  was  called  by  the  same  name. 
As  soon  as  Patisithes  was  fully  assured  of  the  death 
of  that  prince,  which  had  been  concealed  from  the 
public,  knowing,  at  the  same  time,  that  Cambyses 
indulged  his  extravagance  to  such  a  degree  that  he 
was  grown  insupportable,  he  placed  his  own  brother 
upon  the  throne,  giving  out  that  lie  was  the  tru» 
Smerdis,  the  son  of  Cyrus;  and  immediately  de- 
spatched heralds  into  all  parts  of  the  empire,  to  give 
notice  of  Smerdis's  accession,  and  to  require  all  the 
subjects  thereof  to  pay  him  their  obedience. 

Cambyses  caused  the  herald,5  that  came  with  these 
orders  into  Syria,  to  be  arrested;  and  having  strictly 
examined  him  in  the  presence  of  Prexaspes,  who  had 
received  orders  to  kill  his  brother,  he  found  that  the 
true  Smerdis  was  certainly  dead,  and  he  who  had 
usurped  the  throne,  was  no  other  than  Smer.lis  the 
Magian.  Upon  this  he  made  great  lamentations, 
that  being  deceived  by  a  dream,  and  the  identity  of 
the  names,  he  had  been  induced  to  destroy  his  own 
brother;  and  immediately  gave  orders  for  his  army 
to  march,  and  cut  off  the  usurper.  But,  as  he  was 
mounting  his  horse  for  this  expedition,  his  sword 
slipped  out  of  its  scabbard,  and  gave  him  n  wound 
in  his  thigh,  of  which  he  died  soon  after.  The  Egyp- 
tians remarking  that  it  was  in  the  same  part  of  the 
bodv  where  he  had  wounded  their  god  Api?,  consi- 
dered this  accident  as  a  just  judgment  from  Heaven, 
which  thus  avenged  the  sacrilegious  impiety  of  Cam- 
byses. 

While  he  was  in  Egypt,'  having  consulted  the  ora- 
cle of  Butos,  which  was  famous  in  that  country,  he 
was  told  that  he  should  die  at  Ecbatana:  fmderstand- 
ing  this  of  Ecbatana  in  Media,  he  resolved  to  pre- 
serve his  life  by  never  going  thither;  but  what  he 
thought  to  aroid  in  Medh,  he  found  in  Syria.  For 
the  town  where  he  lay  sick  of  this  wound,  was  of  the 
same  name,  being  also  called  Ecbatana.  Of  which 
when  he  was  informed,  taking  it  for  certain  that  he 
must  die  there,  he  assembled  all  the  chief  of  the  Per- 
sians together,  and  representing  to  them  the  true  state 
of  the  case,  that  it  was  Smerdis  the  Magian  who  had 
usurped  the  throne,  earnestly  exhorted  them  not  to 
submit  to  that  impostor,  nor  to  suffer  the  sovereignty 
to  pass  from  the  Persians  again  to  the  Mede?,  of  which 
nation  the  Magian  was,  but  to  take  care  to  s*t  up  * 


4  Herod.  1.  iii.  c.  61. 
•  Ibid.  c.  G4-S6, 


i  Ibid.  e.  60-64. 


HISTORY  OF  Sr,IERDlS  THE  MAGIAN, 


183 


king  ever  them  of  their  own  people.  The  Persians, 
thinking  that  he  said  all  this  merely  out  of  hatred  to 
his  brother,  pair!  no  regard  to  it;  but  upon  his  death 
quietly  submitted  to  him  whom  they  found  upon  the 
throne,  supposing  him  to  he  the  true  Smerdis. 

Cambyses  reigned  seven  years  and  five  months.1 
In  Scripture  he  is  called  Ahasuerus.  When  he  first 
came  to  the  crown,  the  enemies  of  the  Jews  made  an 
application  directly  to  him,  desiring  him  to  hinder  the 
building  of  the  temple;  and  their  application  was  not 
in  vain.  Indeed,  he  did  not  openly  revoke  the  edict  of 
his  father  Cyrus,  perhaps  out  of  some  remains  of  re- 
spect for  his  memory,  but  in  a  great  measure  frustrated 
its  intent,  by  the  many  discouragements  under  which 
he  laid  the  Jews;  so  that  the  work  went  on  very 
•lowly  during  his  reign. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  SMERDIS  THE  MAGIAN. 

THIS  prince  is  called  in  Scripture 
A.M.  3482.  Artaxerxes.  He  reigned  little  more 
Ant.  J.  C.  522.  than  seven  months.  As  soon  as  he 
was  set  upon  the  throne,  by  the 
death  of  Cambyses,  the  inhabitants  of  Samaria  wrote 
a  letter  to  him,*  setting  forth  what  a  turbulent,  sedi- 
tious and  rebellious  people  the  Jews  were.  By  virtue 
of  this  letter  they  obtained  an  order  from  the  king 
prohibiting  the  Jews  from  proceeding  any  farther  in 
the  rebuilding  of  their  city  and  temple.  So  that  the 
work  was  suspended  till  the  second  year  of  Darius, 
for  about  the  space  of  two  years. 

The  Magian,  sensible  how  important  it  was  for  him, 
that  the  imposture  should  not  be  discovered,  affected, 
from  the  very  beginning  of  his  reign,  never  to  appear 
in  public,  but  to  live  retired  in  his  palace,  and  there 
transact  all  his  affairs  by  the  intervention  of  his  eu- 
nuchs, without  admitting  any  but  his  most  intimate 
confidants  to  his  presence. 

And,3  the  better  to  secure  himself  in  the  possession 
of  the  throne  he  had  usurped,  he  studied  from  his  first 
accession  to  gain  the  affections  of  his  subjects,  by 
granting  them  an  exemption  from  taxes,  and  from  all 
military  service  for  three  years;  and  did  so  many 
thmuj  for  their  benefit,  that  his  death  WHS  much  la- 
mented by  most  of  the  nations  of  Asia,  except  the 
Persians,  on  the  revolution  that  happened  soon  after- 
wards. 

But  these  verv  precautions  which  he  made  use  of 
to  keep  himself  out  of  the  way  of  being  discovered 
either  by  the  nobility  or  the  people,4  did  but  make  it 
the  more  suspected  that  he  was  not  the  true  Smerdis. 
He  hart  married  all  his  predecessor's  wives,  and 
among;  the  rest  Atossa.  a  daughter  of  Cvrus,  and  Phe- 
dyma,  a  daughter  of  Otanes,  a  noble  Persian  of  the 
first  quality.  This  nobleman  sent  a  trusty  messenger 
to  his  daughter,  to  know  of  her,  whether  the  king 
was  really  Smerdis.  the  son  of  Cyrus,  or  some  other 
man.  She  answered,  that  never  having  seen  Smerdis, 
the  son  of  Cyrus,  she  could  not  tell.  He  then  by  a 
•econd  message  desired  her  to  enquire  of  Atossa  (who 
could  not  but  know  her  own  brother.)  whether  this 
were  he  or  not.  Whereupon  she  informed  him  that 
the  present  king,  be  he  who  he  might,  from  the  first 
day  of  his  accession  to  the  throne,  had  lodged  his 
wives  in  separate  apartments,  so  that  they  never  could 
converse  with  one  another,  and  that  therefore  she 
could  not  come  at  Atossa,  to  ask  this  question  of  her. 
He  sent  her  a  third  message,  whereby  he  directed  her, 
that  when  he  should  next  lie  with  her,  she  should 
take  the  opportunity  when  he  was  fast  asleep,  to  feel 
whether  he  had  any  ears  or  not:  for  Cyrus  having 
caused  the  ears  of  Smerdis,  the  Mngian,  to  be  cut  off 
for  some  crime,  he  told  her,  that  if  the  person  she  lay 
with  w.is  Smerdis.  the  Marian,  he  was  unworthy  of 
';ig  either  the  crown  or  her.  Phedyma,  having 
received  these  instructions,  took  the  next  opportunity 
of  making  the  tria!  she  wag  directed  to,  and  finding 
Uic  person  she  lay  with  had  no  ears,  she  sent  word  to 


Ezra.  iv.  4,  f>. 
•  Herod.  I.  iii.  p.  67. 


«  Erra.  iv.7— «4. 
«  Ibid.  c.  69. 


her  father  of  it,  whereby  the  whole  fraud  was  dis- 
covered. 

Otanes  immediately  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with 
five  more  ol  the  chief  Persian  nobility;6  and  Darius, 
an  illustrious  Persian  nobleman,  whose  father,  Hystas- 
pes,  was  governor  of  Persia,*  coming  very  seasonably 
as  they  were  forming  their  plan,  was  admitted  into 
the  association,  and  vigorously  promoted  the  execu- 
tion. The  atlair  was  conducted  with  great  secrecy, 
and  the  very  day  fixed,  lest  it  should  be  discovered. 

While  they  were  concerting  their  measures,"  an 
extraordinary  occurrence,  of  which  they  had  not  the 
least  expectation,  strangely  perplexed  the  Magians. 
In  order  to  remove  all  suspicion,  they  had  proposed 
to  Prexaspes,  and  obtained  a  promise  frohi  him.  that 
he  would  publicly  declare  before  the  people,  who 
were  to  be  assembled  for  that  purpose,  that  the  king 
upon  the  throne  was  truly  Smerdis,  the  son  of  Cyrus. 
When  the  people  were  assembled,  which  was  on  tK« 
very  same  day,  Prexaspes  spoke  from  the  top  of  a 
tower,  and  to  the  great  astonishment  of  all  present, 
sincerely  declared  all  that  had  passed;  that  he  had 
killed  with  his  own  hand  Smerdis  the  son  of  Cyrus, 
by  Cambyses'  order;  that  the  person  who  now  pos- 
sessed the  throne,  was  Smerdis,  the  Magian;  that  he 
begged  pardon  of  the  gods  and  men  for  the  crime  h« 
had  committed  by  compulsion  and  against  his  will. 
Having  said  this,  he  threw  himself  headlong  fiom  the 
top  of  the  tower,  and  broke  his  neck.  It  is  easy  to 
imagine,  what  confusion  the  news  of  this  accident  oc- 
casioned in  the  palace. 

The  conspirators,8  without  knowing  any  thing  of 
what  had  happened,  were  going  to  the  palace  at  this 
juncture,  and  were  suffered  to  enter  unsuspected. 
For  the  outer  guard,  knowing  them  to  be  persons  of 
the  first  rank  at  court,  did  not  so  much  as  ask  them 
any  questions.  But  when  they  came  near  the  king'f 
apartment,  and  found  the  officers  there  unwilling  to 
give  them  admittance,  they  drew  their  scimitars,  fell 
upon  the  guards,  and  forced  their  passage.  Smerdis, 
the  Magian,  and  his  brother,  who  were  deliberating 
together  upon  the  affair  of  Prexaspes,  hearing  a  sud- 
den uproar,  snatched  up  their  arms,  made  the  best 
defence  they  could,  and  wounded  some  of  the  conspi- 
rators. One  of  the  two  brothers  being  quickly  killed, 
the  other  fled  into  a  distant  room  to  save  himself,  but 
was  pursued  thither  by  Gobryas  and  Darius.  Go- 
bryas  having  seized  him,  held  him  fast  in  his  arms; 
hut,  as  it  was  quite  dark,  Darius  was  afraid  to  strike, 
lest  at  the  same  time  he  should  kill  his  friend.  Go- 
bryas, judging  what  it  was  that  restrained  him,  obliged 
him  to  run  his  sword  through  the  Magian's  body, 
though  he  should  happen  to  kill  them  both  together. 
But  Darius  did  it  with  so  much  dexterity  and  good 
fortune,  that  he  killed  the  Magian  without  hurting 
his  companion. 

In  the  same  instant,8  with  their  hands  all  smeared 
with  blood,  they  went  out  of  the  palace,  exposed  the 
heads  of  the  false  Smerdis  and  his  brother  Patisithes 
to  the  eyes  of  the  public,  and  declared  the  whole  im- 
posture. Upon  this  the  people  grew  so  enraged,  that 
they  fell  upon  the  whole  sect  to  which  the  usurper 
belonged,  and  slew  as  many  of  them  as  they  could 
find.  For  which  reason,  the  day  on  which  tnis  was 
done,  thenceforward  became  an  annual  festival  among 
the  Persians,  by  whom  it  was  celebrated  with  great 
rejoicings.  It  was  called  The  slaughter  of  the  JHagi; 
nor  durst  any  of  that  sect  appear  in  public  upon  that 
festival. 

When  the  tumult  and  discrder,10  inseparable  from 
such  an  event,  were  appealed,  the  lords  who  hod  slain 
the  usurper  entered  into  consultation  among  them- 
selves what  sort  of  government  was  most  proper  <br 
them  to  establish.  Otanes,  who  spoke  first,  declared 
directly  against  monarchy,  strongly  reprts«nting  and 
exaggerating  the  dangers  and  inconveniences  to  which 
that  form  of  government  wag  liable;  chiefly  flowii  g, 
according;  to  him,  from  the  absolute  and  unlimit  -d 
power  annexed  to  it,  by  which  the  most  virtuous  mun 


•  Herod.  I.  iii.  c.70— 73. 
'  Herod.  1.  iii.  c.  74,  75. 

•  Ibid.  c.  79. 


«  The  province  no  called. 
•  lt.id.  c.  715—78. 
10  Ibid.  c.  80-  83- 


184 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


M  almost  unavoidao.v  corrupted.  He  therefore  con- 
iJuded.bv  declaring  for  a  popular  government.  Me- 
gabvzus,  who  next  delivered  his  opinion,  admitting 
all  that  the  other  had  said  against  a  monarchical  go- 
vernment, confuted  his  reasons  fora  democracy.  He 
represented  the  people  as  a  violent,  fierce,  and  un- 
guvernable  animal,  that  acts  only  by  caprice  and  pas- 
sion. "  A  king,"  said,  he,  "  at  least  knows  what  he 
does;  but  the  people  neither  know  nor  hear  any  thing, 
and  blindly  give  themselves  up  to  those  that  know 
how  to  manage  them."  He  therefore  declared  for  an 
aristocracy,  wherein  the  supreme  power  is  confided 
to  a  few  wise  and  experienced  persons.  Darius,  who 
spoke  last,  showed  the  inconveniences  of  an  aristoc- 
racy, otherwise  called  an  oligarchy;  wherein  reign 
distrust,  envy,  dissensions,  and  ambition,  the  natural 
•ourcei  of  faction,  sedition,  and  murder;  for  which 
there  is  usually  no  other  remedy  than  submitting  to 
the  authorit\  of  one  man;  and  this  is  called  monarchy, 
which  of  all  forms  of  government  is  the  most  com- 
menuable,  the  safest,  and  the  most  advantageous:  in- 
expressibly great  being  the  good  that  can  be  done  by 
a  prince,  whose  power  is  equal  to  the  goodness  of  his 
inclinations.  "  In  short,"  said  he,  "  to  determine  this 
point  by  a  fact  which  to  me  seems  decisive  and  unde- 
niable, to  what  form  of  government  is  owing  the  pre- 
sent greatness  of  the  Persian  empire?  Is  it  not  to 
that  which  I  am  now  recommending?  '  Darius's  opin- 
ion was  embraced  by  the  rest  of  the  lords;  and  they 
resolved,  that  the  monarchy  should  be  continued  on 
the  same  foot  whereon  it  had  been  established  by 
Cyrus. 

The  next  question  was  to  know,  which  of  them 
•hould  be  king,  and  how  they  should  proceed  to  the 
election.1  This  they  thought  fit  to  refer  to  the  gods. 
Accordingly  they  agreed  to  meet  the  r.fcxt  morning 
by  sun-rising,  on  horseback,  at  a  certain  place  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  city;  and  that  he  whose"  horse  first 
neighed,  should  be  king.  For  the  sun  being  the  chief 
deity  of  lYic  Persians,  they  imagined,  that  taking  this 
course,  would  be  giving  him  the  honour  of  the  elec- 
tion. Darius's  groom,  hearing  of  the  agreement,  made 
use  of  the  following  artifice  to  secure  the  crown  to  his 
master.  The  night  before  he  carried  a  mare  to  the 
jilace  appointed  for  their  meeting  the  next  day,  and 
brought  to  her  his  master's  horse.  The  lords  assem- 
bling the  next  morning  at  the  rendezvous,  no  sooner 
was  Darius's  horse  come  to  the  place  where  he  had 
smelt  the  mare,  than  he  fell  a  neighing;  \vhereupon 
Darius  was  saluted  king  by  the  others,  and  placed  on 
the  throne.  He  was  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  a  Persian 
by  birth,  and  of  the  royal  family  of  Ach  en. enes. 

The  Persian  empire  being  thus  restore  nnd  settled 
by  the  wisdom  and  valour  of  these  seven  lords,2  they 
were  raised  by  the  new  king  to  the  highest  dignities, 
an  I  honoured  with  the  most  ample  privileges.  They 
ha  I  i  ccess  to  his  person  whenever  they  would,  and  in 
all  public  affairs  were  allowed  to  deliver  their  opinions 
the  first.  And  whereas  the  Persians  wore  their  tiara 
or  turban  with  the  top  bent  backwards,  except  the 
king,  who  wore  his  erect ;  these  lords  had  the  privilege 
of  wearing  theirs  with  the  top  bent  forwards,  because, 
when  they  attacked  the  Magi,  they  had  bent  theirs  in 
that  manner,  the  better  to  know  one  another  in  the 
hurry  and  confusion.  From  that  time  forwards,  the 
Persian  kings  of  this  family  always  had  seven  coun- 
•elWs,  honoured  with  the  same  p'rivilege. 

Here  I  shall  conclude  the  history  of  the  Persian 
empire,  reserving  the  remainder  of  it  for  the  follow- 
ing- volumes. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   MANNERS   AND    CUSTOMS   OF  THE   ASSYRIANS, 
BABYLONIANS,  LYDIAN8,  MEDES,  AND  PERSIANS. 

I  SHALL  give  in  this  place  an  account  of  the  man- 
ners and  <  ustoms  of  all  these  several  nations  conjoint- 
ly, because  they  agree  in  several  points;  and  if'l  was 
lo  treat  them  separately,  I  should  be  obliged  to  make 


frequent  repetitions;  and,  moreover,  excepting  th« 
Persians,  the  ancient  authors  say  very  litfle  of  the 
manners  of  the  other  nations.  I  shall  reduce  what  1 
have  to  say  of  them  to  these  four  heads. 

I.  Their  government. 

IF.  Their  art  of  war. 

III.  Their  arts  and  sciences:  and 

IV.  Their  religion. 

After  which  I  shall  narrate   the   causes  of  the  de 
clcnsion  and  ruin  of  the  great  Persian  empire. 

ARTICLE  I. 

OF   THEIR   GOVERNMENT. 

After  a  short  account  of  the  nature  of  the  govern 
ment  of  Persia,  and  the  manner  of  educating  the  chil- 
dren of  their  kings,  I  shall  proceed  to  consider  these 
four  things:  Their  public  council,  whertin  the  attain 
of  state  were  considered;  the  administration  of  jus- 
tice; their  care  of  the  provinces;  and  the  good  order 
observed  in  their  finances. 

SECTION  I. — THEIR  MONARCHICAL  FCRM  (IF  GO- 
VERNMENT. THE  RESPECT  THEY  PAID  THEIR 
KINGS.  THE  MANNER  OF  EDUCATING  THEIR 
CHILDREN. 

MONARCHICAL,  or  regal  government,  as  we  call  it, 
is  of  all  others  the  most  ancient,  the  most  universal, 
the  best  adapted  to  keep  the  people  in  peace  and 
union,  and  the  least  exposed  to  the  revolutions  and 
vicissitudes  incident  to  states.  For  these  reasons  the 
wisest  writers  among  the  ancients,  as  Hato,  AriUotle, 
Plutarch,  and,  before  them  all,  Herodotus,  ha\p  been 
induced  to  prefer  decidedly  this  form  of  gove  •nment 
to  all  others.  It  is  likewise  the  only  form  ti  .at  was 
ever  established  among  the  eastern  nations,  e  repub- 
lican government  being  utterly  unknown  in  tl. at  part 
of  the  world. 

Those  people  paid  extraordinary  honours  to  th« 
prince  on  the  throne,3  because  in  his  person  they  re- 
spected the  character  of  the  Deity,  whose  im  ige  and 
vicegerent  he  was  with  regard  to  them,  being  placet! 
on  the  throne  by  the  hands  of  the  supreme  G>vernor 
of  the  world,  and  invested  with  his  authority  a  id  pow- 
er, in  order  to  be  the  minister  of  his  providence,  and 
the  dispenser  of  his  goodness  towards  the  people.  la 
this  manner  did  the  pagans  themselves  in  old  times 
both  think  and  speak:  Principem  d<it  Dens,  cm  erga 
omne  Iwminnm  genus  vice  ntmf\n»r»tiir.* 

These  sentiments  are  very  laudable  and  just.  For 
certainly  the  most  profound  respect  and  reverence  are 
due  to  the  supreme  power;  because  it  cometh  from 
God,  and  is  appointed  entirely  for  the  «ood  of  the 
public:  besides,  it  is  evident,  tFiat  an  authority  which 
is  not  respected  according  to  the  full  extent  of  its 
commission,  must  thereby  either  become  useless,  or 
at  least  very  much  limited  in  the  good  effects  which 
ought  to  How  from  it.  But  in  the  times  of  paganism 
this  honour  and  homage,  though  just  and  reasonable 
in  themselves,  were  often  carried  too  far;  the  Chris- 
tian being  the  only  religion  that  has  known  how  to 
keep  within  due  bounds  in  this  point.  We  honour 
the  emperor,  said  Tertullian  in  the  nama  of  all  the 
Christians:5  but  in  such  a  manner,  as  is  lawful  for 
us,  and  proper  for  him;  that  is,  as  n  man,  who  is  next 
after  God  in  rank  and  authority,  from  whom  he  has 
received  all  that  he  is,  and  whatever  he  has,  and  who 
knows  no  superior  but  God  alone.  For^his  reason  he 
calls  the  emperor  in  another  place  a  second  majesty 
interior  to  nothing  but  the  first;  Relig-io  secundte  ma 
jestntis.6 

Among  the  Assyrians,  and  more  particularly  among 
the  Persians,  the  prince  used  to  be  styled,  7  he  great 
king,  the  king  of  kings.  Two  reasons  might  induce 
those  princes  to  take  that  ostentatious  title:  the  one 
because  their  empire  was  formed  of  many  conquered 


Here*   I.  iii.  c.  84—8* 


Ibid. 


«  Apol.  c.  35 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


185 


Jnngdoms,  all  united  under  one  head;  the  other,  be- 
cause they  had  several  kings,  their  vassals,  either  in 
their  court,  or  dependent  upon  them. 

The  crown  was  hereditary  among:  them,  descend- 
ing from  lather  to  son,  and  generally  to  the  eldest.1 
\\hen  an  heir  to  the  crown  was  born,  all  the  empire 
testified  their  jov  by  sacrifices,  feasts,  and  all  manner 
of  public  rejoicings;  and  his  birth-dav  was  thence- 
forward an  annual  festival,  and  day  of  solemnity  for 
all  the  Persians. 

The  manner  of  educating  the  future  master  of  the 
empire  is  admired  by  Plato,*  and  recommended  to  the 
Greeks  as  a  perfect  model  lot  a  prince's  education. 

He  was  never  whollr  committed  to  the  care  of  a 
uurse,  who  generally  was  a  woman  of  mean  and  low 
condition:  but  from  among  the  eunuchs,  that  is,  the 
diief  officers  of  the  household,  some  of  the  most  ap- 
proved merit  and  probity  were  chosen,  to  take  care  of 
the  ;.  oung  prince's  person  and  health,  till  he  was  seven 
years  ol  age,  and  to  begin  to  form  his  manners  and 
behaviour.  He  was  then  taken  fiom  them,  and  put 
into  the  hands  of  other  masters,  wl.o  were  to  continue 
the  care  of  his  education,  to  teach  him  to  ride  as  soon 
a»  !.i-  -trtngth  would  permit,  and  to  exercise  him  in 
hunting. 

At  fourteen  years  of  age,  when  the  mind  begins  to 
attain  some  maturity,  four  of  the  wisest  and  most  vir- 
tuous men  of  the  state,  were  appointed  to  be  his  pre- 
ceptors. The  first,  says  Plato,  taught  him  magic, 
that  is,  in  their  language,  the  worsnip  of  the  gods 
according  to  thtir  ancient  maxims,  and  the  laws  of 
Zoroaster,  the  son  of  Oromasdes;  he  also  instructed 
him  in  the  principles  of  government.  The  second  was 
to  accustom  him  to  speak  truth,  and  to  ai!n::nister  jus- 
tice. TI.e  third  was  to  teach  him  not  to  suffer  him- 
self to  be  overcome  by  pleasures,  that  he  might  be 
truly  a  king,  and  always  free,  master  of  himself  and 
bis  desires.  The  fourth  was  to  fortify  his  courage 
against  fear,  which  would  have  made  him  a  slave,  and 
to  inspire  him  with  a  noble  and  prudent  assurance,  so 
necessary  for  those  that  are  born  to  command.  Each 
el  tin  >e  governors  excelled  in  his  way,  and  was  emi- 
nent in  that  part  of  education  assigned  to  him.  One 
was  particularly  distinguished  for  his  knowledge  in 
religion,  and  the  art  of  governing;  another  for  his  love 
of  truth  and  justice;  this  for  his  moderation  and  ab- 
stinence licm  pleasures;  that  for  a  superior  strength 
of  mind,  and  uncommon  intrepidity. 

I  do  not  know  whether  such  a  diversity  of  masters, 
who,  without  doubt,  were  of  different  tempers,  and 
perhaps  had  different  interests  in  view,  was  well  cal- 
culated to  answer  the  end  proposed;  or  whether  it 
was  possible  that  four  men  should  agree  together  in 
the  same  principles,  and  harmoniously  pursue  the 
same  end.  Probably  the  reason  cf  having  so  many 
was,  that  they  apprehended  it  ini|>ossible  to  find  any 
one  person  possessed  of  all  the  qualities  they  judged 
•  v  for  giving  a  right  education  to  the  presump- 
tive heir  of  the  crown;  so  great  an  idea  had  they,  evtn 
in  those  corrupt  times,  of  the  importance  of  a  prince's 
education. 

Be  this  as  it  will,  all  this  care,  as  Plato  remarks  in 
the  same  place,  wag  frustrated  by  the  luxury,  pomp 
and  magnificence  with  which  the  young  prince  was 
surrounded;  by  the  numerous  train  of  officers  that 
waited  upon  him  with  a  servile  submission;  by  all  the 
appnrtemnces  and  equipage  of  a  voluptuous  and  ef- 
feminate life,  in  which  pleasure,  and  the  inventing  ol 
new  diversions,  seemed  to  engross  all  attention;  clan- 
gers v\hi:h  the  most  excellent  disposition  could  never 
funniiiint.  The  corrupt  manners  of  the  nation  there- 
fore quickly  debauched  the  prince,  and  drew  him  into 
the  prevailing  pleasures,  against  which  no  education 
is  a  sufficient  defence.  ^ 

The  education  here  spoken  of  bv  Plato,  can  relate 
onlv  to  the  children  of  Artaxerxes.  surnamed  Longi- 
maiHis,  the  son  and  successor  of  Xerxes,  in  whose  time 
lived  Alcibiades,  who  is  introduced  in  the  dialogue 
from  whence  this  observ,  tion  is  taken.  For  Plato, 
in  another  passage,  which  we  shall  cite  hereafter,  in- 
forms us,  that  neither  Cvrus  nor  Darius  ever  thought 


of  giving  the  prinres,  their  sons,  a  good  education; 
and  w'jat  we  find  in  history  concerning  Artaicrxei 
Longimanus,  gi\es  us  reason  to  believe,  that  he  wai 
more  attentive  than  his  predecessors  to  the  education 
of  his  children;  but  was  not  much  imitated  in  that 
respect  by  his  successors. 

SECTION  II.— THE   PUBLIC  COUJVCU.,  WHEREIN 

THE  AFFAIRS  CK  STATE  WERE  CCJVS1DIRKD. 
ABSOLUTE  as  the  regal  authority  was  among  the 
Persians,  yet  was  it,  in  some  measure,  kept  within 
bounds  by  the  establishment  of  this  council,  appoint 
ed  by  the  state;  a  council,  which  consisted  o 
of  the  princes  or  chief  lords  of  the  nation,  no  less  dis- 
tinguished by  their  wisdom  and  abilities  than  by  their 
illustrious  birth.  \Ve  have  already  se'en  the  origin 
of  this  establishment  in  the  conspiracy  of  the  seven 
Persian  hoblimtn,  who  entered  into  an  association 
against  Smerdis,  the  Magian,  and  killed  him. 

The  Scripture  observes,  that  Ezra  was  sent  into 
Jiu't  a.  in  the  name,  and  by  the  authority,  of  king 
Artaxerxes  and  his  seven  counsellors:  Forasmuch  at 
thvu  art  sent  of  the  king  and  of  his  seven  counsellors.* 
The  same  Scripture,  a  long  time  before  this,  in  the 
reign  of  Darius,  otherwise  called  Ahasuerus.  who 
succeeded  the  Magian,  informs  us,  that  these  coun- 
sellors were  well  versed  in  the  laws,  ancient  customs, 
and  n;axims  of  the  state;  that  they  alwavs  attended 
the  prince,  who  never  transacted  any  thing,  or  deter- 
mined any  affair  of  importance,  without  their  advice. 
Intrrrogarit  (jltsuems'}  sapitntts,qvi  ex  morcrtfio 
<  i  stwper  adcraitt,  et  illnn'rr.Jaciebal  cuncia  cunsilio, 
icitntiiim  legfsacjura  rnajornm.4 

Thi«  !s;t  p?:.-£^e  pives  room  for  some  reflections, 
which  may  very  Born  contribute  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  genius  and  character  of  the  Persian  government 
In  the  first  place,  the  king  there  spoken  of,  that  is, 
Darius,  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  princes  thnt 
ever  reigned  in  Persia,  and  one  of  the  most  deserving 
of  praise,  on  account  of  his  wisdom  and  prudence: 
though  he  had  his  failings.  It  is  to  him,  as  wt  11  as  to 
Cyrus,  that  th#  greatest  part  of  those  excellent  laws 
are  ascribed,  which  l.ave  ever  since  subsided  in  that 
coinitry,  and  have  been  the  foundation  and  stBiuiard 
of  their  government.  Now  tl.is  prince,  notwitl. stand- 
ing his  extraordinary  penetration  and  ability,  thought 
he  stood  in  need  of  advice:  nor  did  he  apprehend, 
that  the  joining  a  number  of  assistants  to  himself,  for 
the  determination  of  affairs,  would  be  BBJ  discredit 
to  his  own  understanding;  by  which  proceeding  he 
really  showed  a  superiority  of  genius  which  is  very 
uncommon,  and  implies  a  great  fund  ol  merit.  Eor 
a  prince  of  slender  talents  and  a  narrow  capacity,  is 
generally  full  of  himself;  and  the  less  understanding 
he  has,  the  more  obstinate  and  untractable  he  gene- 
rally is:  he  thinks  it  want  of  respect  to  offer  to  dis- 
cover any  thine  to  him  which  he  does  not  perceive; 
and  is  affronted,  if  you  seem  to  doubt  that  he,  who  is 
supreme  in  power,  is  not  the  same  in  penetration  and 
understanding.  But  Darius  had  a  different  way  of 
thinking,  and  did  nothing  without  counsel  and  ad- 
vice: lllonim  facicbat  cuncia  contilio. 

Secondly,  Darius,  however  absolute  he  was,  and 
how  iealous  soever  he  might  be  of  his  prerogative,  did 
not  think  he  impaired  or  degraded  it  when  he  insti- 
tuted that  council:  for  the  council  did  not  at  all  in- 
terfere with  the  king's  authority  of  ruling  and  com- 
manding, which  always  resides  in  the  person  of  the 
prince,  but  wa*  i  onnned  entirely  to  that  of  reason, 
which  consisted  in  communicating  and  imparting  their 
knowledge  and  experience  to  the  king.  He  was  per- 
suaded that  the  noblest  character  of  sovereign  power, 
when  it  is  pure,  and  has  neither  degenerated  horn  its 
origin,  nor  deviated  from  its  end.  is  to  govern  by  th« 
laws;5  to  make  them  the  rule  of  his  will  and  desires; 
and  to  think  nothing  allowable  for  him  which  they 
prohibit. 

In  the  third  place,  this  council,  which  every  KMN 


Plot,  in  Alcib.  c.  i.  p.  Kl. 
VOL.  J  —24 


•  Ibid. 


»  Ezra,  vii.  14 

«  F.vth.  i.  IX  acrordine  to  ihe  vnlralu  traiuliumn. 
•  Ri-»imur  A  te,  et  (uhjerii  tibi,  ted  ijuein»dn>cKiu:n  leg*- 
bos,  Bumui.— Plin.  PaHCf.  Truj. 


186 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


accompanied  the  king  fex  more  reg-io  semper  ei  ade- 
ranl,')  was  a  ptTpetual  standing  council,  consisting 
of  tilt  greatest  men  and  the  best  heads  of  the  king- 
dom; who,  under  the  direction  of  the  sovereign,  and 
always  with  a  dependency  upon  him,  were  in  a  man- 
ner the  source  of  puLIic  order,  and  the  principle  of 
all  the  wise  regulations  and  transactions  at  home  and 
abroad.  To  this  council  the  king  transferred  from 
himself  several  weighty  cares,  with  which  he  must 
otherwise  have  been  overburdened;  and  by  them  he 
likewise  executed  whatever  had  been  resolved  on.  It 
was  bv  means  of  this  standing  council,  that  the  great 
maxims  of  the  state  were  preserved  ;  the  knowledge  of 
its  true  interests  perpetuated;  affairs  carried  on  with 
harmony  and  order;  and  innovations, errors,  and  over- 
sights prevented.  For  in  a  public  and  general  coun- 
cil things  are  discussed  by  unsuspected  persons;  all  the 
ministers  are  mutual  inspectors  of  one  another;  all 
their  knowledge  and  experience  in  public  matters  are 
united  together;  and  they  all  become  equally  capable 
of  every  part  of  the  administration:  because  though, 
as  to  the  executive  part,  they  move  only  in  one  par- 
ticular sphere  of  business,  yet  they  are  obliged  to  in- 
form themselves  in  all  affairs  relating  to  the  public, 
that  they  may  be  able  to  deliver  their  opinions  in  a 
judicious  manner. 

The  fourth  and  last  reflection  I  have  to  make  on 
this  head  is,  that  we  find  it  mentioned  in  Scripture, 
that  the  persons  of  which  this  council  consisted,  were 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  customs,  laws,  max- 
ims and  rights  of  the  kingdom,  scienlium  leges  ac 
jura  major um. 

Two  things,  which,  as  the  Scripture  informs  us, 
were  practised  by  the  Persians,  might  very  much  con- 
tribute to  instruct  the  king  and  his  council  in  the  me- 
thods of  governing  wilh  wisdom  and  prudence.  The 
first  was,  their  having  public  registers,1  wherein  all 
the  prince's  edicts  and  ordinances,  all  the  privileges 
granted  to  the  people,  and  all  the  favours  conferred 
upon  particular  persons,  were  entered  and  recorded. 
The  second  was,2  the  annals  of  the  kingdom,  in 
which  all  the  events  of  former  reigns»all  resolutions 
taken,  regulations  established,  and  services  done  by 
anv  particular  persons,  were  exactly  and  circumstan- 
tially entered.  These  annals  were  carefully  preserved, 
and  frequently  perused  both  bv  the  kings  and  the 
ministers,  that  they  might  acquaint  themselves  with 
times  past;  might  have  a  clear  idea  of  the  state  of  the 
kingdom;  avoid  an  arbitrary,  unequal,  uncertain  con- 
duct; maintain  a  uniformity  in  the  conduct  of  affairs; 
and,  in  short,  acquire  such  light  from  the  perusal  of 
these  books,  as  should  qualify  them  to  govern  the 
state  with  wisdom. 

SECTION    III.— THE   ADMINISTRATION  OF  JUS- 
TICE. 

To  be  king,  and  to  be  judge,  is  but  one  and  the 
same  thing.  The  throne  is  a  tribunal,  and  the  sove- 
reign power  is  the  highest  authority  for  administering 
justice.  God  hath  made  you  king-  over  his  people, 
(tnd  the  queen  of  Sheba  to  Solomon,)  In  the  end  (hat 
ynn  should  judge  them,  and  render  justice  and  judg- 
ment unto  them.  God  hath  made  every  thing  subject 
to  princes,  to  put  them  into  a  condition  of  fearing 
none  but  him.  His  designs  in  making  them  independ- 
ent, was  to  give  them  the  more  inviolable  attachment 
to  justice.  That  they  might  not  excuse  themselves 
on  pretence  of  inability  or  want  of  power,  he  has  dele- 
gated his  whole  power  unto  them;  he  has  made  them 
musters  of  all  the  means  requisite  for  the  restraining 
injustice  and  oppression,  that  iniquity  should  tremble 
in  their  presence,  and  be  incapable  of  hurting  any 
persons  whatsoever. 

But  what  is  that  justice  which  GoH  hath  intrusted 
to  the  hands  of  kinsr«,  and  whereof  he  hath  made 
them  depositaries?  Why.  it  is  nothing  else  but  or- 
der; and  order  consists  in  observinean  universal  equi- 
ty, an  I  liking  care  that  force  do  not  usurp  the  place 
of  law,  that  one  man's  property  be  not  exposed  to  the 
violence  of  another;  thnt  the  common  ties  of  society 
be.  not  broken;  that  artifice  and  fraud  do  not  prevail 


»  Ezra,  T.  17.  »nd  *i.  2.  •  Ib.  i».  15.  and  E«th.  ri.  J. 


er  innocence  and  simplicity;  that  all  things  rest  n 
peace  under  the  protection  of  the  laws;  and  tno.  weak- 
est among  the  people  find  sanctuary  in  the  public 
authority. 

We  learn  from  Joseph;:;;,3  that  the  kin«,s  of  Persia 
used  to  administer  justice  in  their  own  persons.  And 
it  was  to  qualify  them  for  the  due  discharge  of  thi; 
duty,  that  care  was  taken  to  have  them  instructed 
from  their  tenderest  youth,  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
laws  of  their'counlry  ;  and  that  in  their  public  schools, 
as  we  have  already  mentioned  in  the  history  of  Cy- 
rus, thej  were  taught  equity  and  justiqp,  in  the  same 
manner  as  rhetoric  and  philosophy  are  taught  in  other 
place*. 

These  are  the  great  and  essential  duties:  of  the  re- 
gal dignity.  Indeed  it  is  reasonable,  and  absolutely 
necessary  that  the  prince  be  assisted  in  the  execution 
of  that  august  function,  as  he  is  in  others;  but  to  be 
assisted,  is  not  to  be  deprived,  or  dispossessed.  He 
continues  judge,  as  long  as  he  continues  king.  Though 
he  communicates  his  authority,  yet  does  he  not  resign 
or  divide  it,  It  is  therefore  absolutely  necessary  for 
him  to  bestow  some  time  upon  the  study  of  equity  and 
justice;  not  that  he  need  enter  ir.to  the  whole  detail 
of  particular  laws,  but  only  acquaint  himself  with  the 
principal  rules  and  maxims  of  the  law  of  his  country, 
that  he  may  be  capable  of  doing  justice,  and  ot  pass- 
ing sentence  with  precision,  upon  important  points. 
For  this  reason,  the  kings  of  Persia  never  ascended 
the  throne  till  they  had  been  for  some  time  under  the 
care  and  instruction  of  the  Magi,  who  were  to  teach 
them  that  science,  whereof  they  were  the  only  mas- 
ters and  professors,  as  well  as  of  the  religion  of  the 
country. 

Now  since  to  the  sovereign  alone  is  committed  the 
right  of  administering  justice,  and  that  within  his  do- 
minions there  is  no  other  power  of  administering  it 
than  what  is  delegated  by  him;  how  greatly  does  it 
behove  him  to  take  care  into  what  hands  he  commits 
a  part  of  so  valuable  a  trust;  to  know  whether  those 
he  places  so  near  the  throne,  are  worthy  to  partake 
of  his  prerogative;  and  industriously  to  keep  all  such 
at  a  distance  from  it,  as  he  judges  unworthy  of  that 
privilege!  We  find  that  in  Persia  their  king*  were 
extremely  careful  to  have  justice  rendered  with  integ- 
rity and  impartiality.  One  of  their  royal  judge* «  (for 
so  they  called  them)  having  suffered  hunst-lf  to  be  cor- 
rupted by  a  bribe,  was  condemned  by  Camb>ses  to 
be  put  to  death  without  mercy,  and  to  have  his  skin 
put  upon  the  seat,  where  he  used  to  sit  and  give 
judgment,  and  where  his  son  who  succeeded  him  in 
his  office,  was  to  sit.  that  the  very  place  whence  he 
gave  judgment,  should  remind  him  continually  of  his 
duty. 

Their  ordinary  judges  were  taken  out  of  the  class 
of  old  men,5  into  which  none  were  admitted  till  the 
age  of  fifty  years:  so  that  a  man  could  iiot  exercise 
the  office  of  a  judge  before  that  age,  the  Persians  be- 
ing of  opinion,  that  too  much  maturity  co-oid  not  be 
required  in  an  employment  which  decided  upon  the 
fortunes,  reputations,  and  lives  of  thtir  fellow-citi- 
zens. 

Amongst  them,  it  was  not  lawful  either  for  a  pri- 
vate person  to  put  any  of  his  slaves  to  death,6  nor  for 
the-prince  to  inliict  capital  punishment  ii|>on  any  of 
his  subjects  for  the  first  offence;  because  it  nJgfet  ra- 
ther be  considereil  as  an  effect  of  human  weakness  and 
frailty,  than  of  a  confirmed  malignity  of  mind. 

The  Persians  thought  it  reasonable  to  put  the  good 
as  well  as  the  evil,  the  merits  of  the  offender,  as  well 
as  his  demerits,  into  the  scalds  of  justice;  nor  was  it 
just  in  their  opinion,  that  one  single  crime  should  ob- 
literate all  the  good  actions  a  man  had  done  during 
his  life.  Upon  this  principle  ir  was  that  Darius  had 
condemned  a  judge  to  cieMh  for  some  prevarication 
in  his  office,7  and  afterward*  calling  to  mind  the  im- 
portant service  he  had  rende*d  both  to  the  state  and 
the  roya!  farnilv,  revoked  the  sentence  at  the  very  mo- 
ment of  its  going  to  bij  executed,  and  acknowledge. 


•  Antlq.  Judaic,  l.xi.  e.  3. 

•  Herod.  I.  T.  c.  25.  •  Xenoph.  Cjrrop.  I.  i.  p.  7 

•  Herod.  1.  i.  c.  137.  '  Ibid.  1.  vii.  c.  134. 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


187 


tlmt  be  had  pronounced  it  n  ith  more  precipitation 
than  wisdom.1 

But  one  important  and  essential  rule  which  they 
observed  in  their  judgments,  was,  in  the  first  place, 
never  to  condemn  any  person  without  confronting 
bim  with  his  accuser  to  his  face,  and  without  giving 
him  time,  and  all  other  means,  necessary  for  defend- 
ing himself  against  the  articles  laid  to  his  charge: 
and,  in  the  second  place,  if  the  person  accused  was 
found  innocent,  to  inflict  the  very  game  punishment 
upon  the  accuser,  as  the  other  was  to  have  suffered, 
had  he  been  found  guilty.  Artaxerxes  gave  a  fine 
example  of  the  just  rigour  which  ought  to  be  exercised 
or.  such  occasions.2  One  of  the  king's  favourites, 
ambitious  of  getting  a  place  possessed  by  one  of  his 
txsl  officers,  endeavoured  to  make  the  king  suspect 
the  fidelity  of  that  officer:  and,  to  that  end,  sent  in- 
formations to  court  full  of  calumnies  against  him, 
persuading  himself  that  the  king,  from  the  great  in- 
fluence he  had  with  his  majesty,  would  believe  the 
thing  upon  his  bare  word,  without  farther  examina- 
tion. For  such  is  the  general  character  of  calumnia- 
tor*. They  are  afraid  of  evidence  and  light;  they 
make  it  their  business  to  bar  up  from  the  innocent  ail 
access  to  the  prince,  and  thereby  put  it  out  of  their 
power  to  vindicate  themselves.  The  officer  was  im- 
prisoned; but  he  tlesired  of  the  king,  before  he  was 
condemned,  that  his  cause  might  be  heard,  and  his 
accusers  ordered  to  produce  their  evidence  against 
him.  The  king  did  so,  and  as  there  was  no  proof 
but  the  letters  which  his  enemy  had  written  against 
him,  he  was  cleared,  and  his  innocence  fully  justified 
by  the  three  commissioners  that  *»t  upon'h'is  trial; 
and  all  the  king's  indignation  fell  upon  the  perfidious 
accuser,  who  had  thus  attempted  to  abuse  ihe  favour 
and  confidence  of  his  royal  master.  The  prince,  who 
was  well  informed,  and"  knew  that  one  of  the  true 
signs  of  a  wise  government  is  to  have  the  su.bjerts 
stand  more  in  fear  of  the  laws  than  of  informers,* 
would  have  thought  that  to  act  otherwise  than  he  did, 
would  have  been  a  direct  violation  of  the  most  com- 
mon rule*  of  natural  equity  and  humanity;  it  would 
have  been  opening  a  door  to  envy,  hatred,  calumny, 
and  revenge;*  it  would  have  been  exposing  tfie 
honest  simplicity  of  good  and  faithful  subjects  to  the 
cruel  malice  of  det<  stable  informer*,  and'arming  the 
latter  with  the  sword  of  public  authority:  in  a  word. 
it  would  have  been  divesting  the  tin-one  of  the  most 
noble  privilege  belonging  to  it,  namely,  that  of  being 
a  sanctuary  for  innocence  and  justice,  against  vio- 
lence and  calumny. 

There  is  upon  record  a  still  more  memorable  exam- 
ple of  firmness  and  love  of  justice,  in  another  kin?  of 
Persia,  before  Artaxerxes;5  in  him,  I  mean,  whon» 
Scripture  calls  Ahnsnerus,  ami  who  is  thought  to  he 
the  same  as  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  from  whom 
Haman  had,  by  his  earnest  solicitations,  extorted  that 
fatal  edict,  which  was  calculated  to  exterminate  the 
whole  race  of  the  Jews  throughout  the  Pers'an  empire 
in  one  day.  \\hfn  God  had,  by  the  means  of  Esther, 
opened  his  eyes,  he  made  haste  to  make  amends  for 
his  fault,  not  only  by  revoking  his  edict, and  inflicting 
an  exemplary  punishment  upon  the  impostor  who  had 
deceived  him.  but.  which  is  more,  by  a  public  ac- 
knowledgment of  his  error,  which  should  be  a  pattern 
»o  all  ages,  and  to  all  princes,  and  teach  them,  that 
far  from  debasing  their  dignity,  or  weakening:  their 
authority  thereby,  they  procure  to  them  both  the  more 
respect.  After  c'eclannsr,  that  it  is  but  too  common 
for  calumniators  to  innvxe  by  their  mi«repre«enta- 
tions  and  craftiness,  on  the  £roo<'np«s  of  the'r  princes, 
whom  their  natural  sincerity  induces  to  judire  favour- 
ably of  others;  he  is  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge, 
that  he  had  been  so  unhappy  as  to  suffer  Himself  to 
3e  prejudiced  by  such  means  agnin«t  the  Jews,  who 


«  HioH.  1.  TT    |i.  333— ?3fi. 

1  Non  jam  ileliitoret,  sed  ief ct  timcntur.    f/in.  in  Pantg. 

•  Princop*.  ^ui  delatoret  POD  castigat,  irritat.   Sueton.  in 
tit    Domit  r.  ix. 

•  Ksili.  iii.  A.O. 


were  his  faithful  subjects,  and  the  children  of  the  most 
high  God,  to  whose  goodness  he  and  his  ancestor! 
were  indebted  for  the  throne. 

The  Persians  were  not  only  enemies  of  injustice,  u 
we  have  now  shown;  but  also  abhorred  lying,  which 
always  was  deemed  amongst  them  a  mear  and  infa- 
mous vice.'  What  they  esteemed  most  pitiful,  nest 
to  lying,  was  to  live  upon  trust,  or  by  borrowing. 
Sucfi  a  kind  of  life  seemed  to  them  idle,  ignominious, 
servile,  and  the  more  despicable,  as  it  tends  to  inak« 
people  liars. 

SECTION    IV.— THE   CARE   OF  TOE   PROVINCES. 

IT  seems  to  be  no  difficult  matter  to  maintain  good 
order  in  the  metropolis  of  a  kingdom,  where  the  con- 
duct of  the  magistrates  and  judges  is  closely  inspect- 
ed ;  and  the  very  sight  of  the  throne  capable  of  keep- 
ing the  subjects  in  awe.  The  case  is  otherwise  with 
respect  to  the  provinces,  where-  the  distance  from  the 
sovereign,  and  the  hopes  of  impunity,  may  occasion 
many  misdemeanours  on  the  part  of  the  magistrate? 
end-officers,  as  well  as  great  licentiousness  and  disor- 
der on  that  of  the  people.  In  this  the  Persian  policy 
exerted  itself  with  the  greatest  care;  and,  we  may 
also  say,  with  the  greatest  success. 

The  Persian  empire  was  divided  into  127  govern- 
ments, the  governors  whereof  were  called  satrapae.* 
Over  them  were  appointed  three  principal  ministers, 
who  inspected  their  conduct,  to  whom  they  gave  an 
account  of  all  the  affairs  of  their  several  provinces, 
and  who  were  afterwards  to  make  their  report  of  the 
same  to  the  king.  It  wan  Darius  the  Mede,  that  is, 
Cvaxares,  or  rather  Cyrus  in  the  name  of  his  uncle, 
who  put  the  government  of  the  empire  into  this  ex- 
cellent method.  These  satrapae  were,  by  the  very  de- 
sign of  their  office,  each  in  his  respective  district,  to 
have  the  same  care  and  regard  for  the  interests  of  the 
people,  as  for  those  of  the  prince :  for  it  was  a  maxim 
with  Cvrus,  ihat  no  difference  ought  to  be  admitted 
between  these  two  interests,  which  are  necessarily 
linked  together;  since  neither  the  people  can  be  nap- 
py, unless  the  prince  is  powerful,  and  in  a  condition 
to  defend  them ;  nor  the  prince  truly  powerful,  unless 
his  people  be  happy. 

These  satrapse  being  the  most  considerable  persons 
in  the  kingdom,  Cyrus  assigned  them  certain  funds 
nnd  revenues  proportioned  to  their  station  and  the 
importance  of  their  employments.  He  was  willing 
they  should  live  nobly  in  their  respective  provinces, 
that  they  might  gain'the  respect  of  the  nobility  and 
common  people  within  their  jurisdiction;  and  that  for 
that  reason  their  retinue,  their  equipage,  and  their 
table,  should  be  answerable  to  their  dignity,  yet  with- 
out exceeding  the  bounds  of  prudence  and  moderation. 
He  himsf  If  was  their  model  in  this  respect,  as  he  de- 
sired they  should  likewise  be  to  all  persons  of  distin- 
e-iii'hed  rank  within  the  extent  of  their  authority :  so 
that  the  same  order  which  reigned  in  the  prince's 
court,  might  likewise  proportionably  be  observed  in 
the  courts  of  the  satrapte,  and  in  the  noblemen's  fa- 
milies. And  to  prevent,  as  far  as  possible,  all  abuse* 
which  might  be  made  of  so  extensive  an  authority  as 
that  of  the  satrap,-**,  the  king  reserved  to  himst  If  afone 
the  nomination  of  them,  and  chose  that  the  governors 
of  place*,  the  commanders  of  the  troops,  and  other 
such  like  officers,  should  depend  immediately  upon 
the  prince  himself;  from  whom  alone  they  were  to 
receive  their  instructions,  in  order  that,  if  the  satrapae 
were  inclined  to  abuse  their  power,  they  might  be 
sensible  those  officers  were  *o  many  overseers  and 
censor?  of  their  conduct.  And  to  make  this  corres- 
pomVnce  by  letters,  the  more  sure  and  expeditious, 
the  king  caused  post-houses  to  be  erected  throughout 
ail  the  empire,  and  appointed  couriers  who  travelled 
nlg-ht  and  day.  and  made  wonderful  despatch.  But  I 
shall  speak  more  particularly  on  this  article  «t  the  end 
of  the  section,  that  I  may  not  break  in  upon  the  mut- 
ter in  hand. 

The  care  of  the  provinces,  however,  was  not  en- 


•  Hpi-nil.  I.  i.  r   13P. 

'  Authors i1ifli>rnlxnit  the  number  of  rnvernments  or  pn» 
rincci.     Xenoph.  Cj/rep.  I.  v.  iii.  p.  229.  232. 


188 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


iirtly  li:ft  to  the  satrap*  and  governors;  the  kinghim- 
lelf  took  cognizance  of  them  in  his  own  person,  being 
persuaded,  that  the  governing  only  by  others,  is  but 
to  govern  by  halves.  An  officer  of  the  household  was 
ordered  to  repeat  these  words  to  the  king  every  morn- 


lir 
gt  If 
p 
t 


yon  upon  the  throne.*  Oromasdes  was  the  principal 
god.  anciently  worshipped  by  the  Persians.  A  good 
prince,  s.us  Plutarch  in  relating  this  custom,  has  no 
occasion  for  an  officer  to  give  him  this  daily  admoni- 
tion: his  own  heart  and  the  love  he  has  for  his  peo- 
ple, are  sufficient  monitors. 

The  king  of  Persia  thought  himself  obliged,  accord- 
ing to  the  ancient  custom  established  in  that  coun- 
try, from  time  to  time  personally  to  visit  all  the  pro- 
vinces of  his  empire;?  being  persuaded,  as  Pliny  says 
of  T raj  in,  that  the  most  solid  glory,  and  the  most 
exquisite  pleasure,  a  good  prince  can  enjoy,  is  from 
time  to  time  to  let  the  people  see  their  common  fa- 
ther; to  reconcile  the  dissensions  and  mutual  animo- 
sities of  rival  cities;3  to  calm  commotions  or  seditions 
among  the  people,  and  that  not  so  much  by  the  seve- 
rity of  power,  as  by  the  authority  of  reason,  to  pre- 
vent injustice  and  oppression  in  magistrates;  and  can- 
cel and  reverse  whatever  has  been  decreed  against  law 
and  equity;  in  a  word,  like  a  beneficent  planet,  to 
•hed  his  salutary  influences  universally,  or  rather,  like 
a  kind  of  divinity,  to  be  present  every  where,  to  see, 
to  hear,  and  inspect  every  thing,  without  rejecting 
any  man's  petition  or  complaint. 

When  the  king  was  not  able  to  visit  the  provinces 
himself,  he  sent,  in  his  stead,  some  of  the  great  men 
of  the  kingdom,  such  as  were  the  most  eminent  for 
wisdom  and  virtue.  These  persons  were  generally 
called  the  eyes  and  ears  of  the  prince,  because  by  their 
means  he  saw  and  was  informed  of  every  thing. 
When  these,  or  any  other  of  his  great  ministers,  or 
the  members  of  his  council,  were  said  to  be  the  eyes 
and  ears  of  the  prince,  it  was  at  once  an  admonition 
to  the  king,  that  he  had  his  ministers,  as  we  have  the 
organs  of  our  senses,  not  that  he  should  lie  still  and 
be  idle,  but  act  by  their  means;  and  to  the  ministers, 
that  they  ought  not  to  act  for  themselves,  but  for  the 
king  their  head,  and  for  the  advantage  of  the  whole 
body  politic. 

The  particular  detail  of  affairs,  which  the  king  when 
he  went  his  progress  in  person,  or  the  commission- 
ers appointed  by  him.  entered  into,  is  highly  worthy 
of  admiration,  and  shows  how  well  they  understood, 
in  those  days,  wherein  the  wisdom  and  ability  of  gov- 
ernors consist.  The  attention  of  the  king  and  his 
ministers  was  not  employed  upon  great  objects  alone, 
as  war,  the  revenue,  justice  and  commerce;  but  mat- 
ters of  less  importance,  as  the  security  and  beauty  of 
towns  and  cities,  the  convenient  habitation  of  the  in- 
habitants, the  repairs  of  high  roads,  bridges,  cause- 
ways, the  keeping  of  woods  and  forests  from  being 
laid  wa*teand  destroyed,  and,  above  all,  the  improve- 
ment of  agriculture,  and  the  encouraging  and  pro- 
moting all  sorts  of  trades,  even  to  the  lowest  and 
meanest  of  handicraft  employments:  every  thins:,  in 
*hort,  came  within  the  sphere  of  tlieir  policy,  and  was 
thoajrhl  t'>  deserve  their  care  and  inspection.  And, 
indeed,  whatever  belongs  to  the  subjects,  as  well  as 
the  subjects  themselves,  is  a  part  of  the  trust  commit- 
ted to  the  head  of  the  commonwealth,  and  is  entitled 
to  his  care,  concern,  and  activity.  His  love  for  the 
commonweal  is  universal.  It  extends  itself  to  all 
matters  and  takes  in  every  lhin«r;«  it  is  the  support 
of  private  persons,  as  well  a>  of  the  public.  Every 
province,  every  city,  every  family,  has  a  place  in  his 
heart  and  affections.  Every  thing  in  the  kingdom  has 


«  Plut.  ad  Prinr..  induct  p.  7PO. 
1  .\-iioph    in  CBrnnnrn    p  P28. 

•  Ri-nmrilixr'-  irmulan rivjintfg.  fumpnt«>»que  pnpulo*  non 
ImiwriK  mai'i«  <]i>Am  nitimm  rnmrM-fCpro.  intcrroilerc  ini<;ui- 
tntitus  mnL'i«trnti:iim    infertumi|iio    rcdilerp  <|uirr|uid   fieri 
non    npnriiiprit ;  po«trem6    voliirisnimi    sidcm  morr  nmnia 
invinrri'.  nmnia  miilirf,  PI    umlcoumiii'1  invnrnturn.  Ktntim, 
Velu'  nnmcn,  ndrsw  e(  nd«i«tnre.      Plin.  in  Panftr.  Traj. 

•  l«,  «-tij  rurrr-  sunt    univrmr,   nnllnm    non   rcip.    partem 
taiiquar.i  sui  nuttit.     Sencc  lib.  de  Clem.  e.  xiii. 


a  relation  to,  and  concerns  him ;  every  thing  chal 
his  attention  and  regard. 

I  have  already  said,5  that  agriculture  was  one  of  the 
principal  objects  on  which  the  Persians  bestowed  their 
care  and  attention.  Indeed,  one  of  the  prince's  first 
cares  was,  to  make  husbandry  flourish;  and  those 
satrapas,  whose  provinces  were  the  best  cultivated, 
had  the  most  of  his  favour.  And  as  there  were  offices 
erected  for  the  regulation  of  the  military  part  of  the 
government;  so  were  there  likewise  for  the  inspect- 
ing their  rural  labours  and  economy,  for  these  two 
employments  had  a  near  relation;  the  business  of  the 
one  being  to  guard  the  country,  and  the  other  to  cul- 
tivate it.  The  prince  protected  both  almost  with  the 
same  degree  of  affection;  because  both  concurred, 
and  were  equally  necessarv,  for  the  public  good.  For 
if  the  lands  cannot  be  cultivated  without  tlie  aid  and 
protection  of  armies  for  their  defence  and  security; 
so  neither  can  the  soldiers,  on  the  other  hand  be  fed 
and  maintained  without  the  labour  of  the  husbandmen 
who  cultivate  the  ground.  It  was  with  good  reason, 
therefore,  that  the  prince,  since  it  was  impossible  for 
himself  to  see  in  to  every  thing,  caused  an  exact  account 
to  be  given  him,  how  every  province  and  district  was 
cultivated;  that  he  might  know,  whether  each  coun- 
try brought  forth  abundantly  such  fruits  as  it  was  ca- 
pable of  producing;  that  he  descended  sc  far  into 
those  particulars,  as  Xenophon  remarks  of  Cyrus  the 
younger,  as  to  inform  himself,  whether  the  private 
gardens  of  his  subjects  were  well  kept,  and  yielded 
plenty  of  fruit;  that  he  rewarded  the  superintendents 
and  overseers,  whose  provinces  or  districts  were  the 
best  cultivated,  and  punished  the  laziness  and  negii- 
genceof  those  idle  persons,  who  suffered  theirgrounds 
to  lie  barren  or  unfilled.  Such  a  care  as  this  is  by 
no  means  unworthy  of  a  king,  as  it  naturally  tends  to 
propagate  riches  and  plenty  throughout  his  kingdom, 
and  to  beget  a  spirit  of  industry  amongst  his  subjects, 
which  is  the  surest  means  of  preventing  that  increase 
of  drones  and  idle  fellows,  that  are  such  a  burden  upon 
the  public,  and  a  dishonour  to  the  state. 

Xenophon,8  in  the  next  passage  to  this  I  have  now 
cited,  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Socrates,  who  is  intro- 
duced RS  a  speaker,  a  very  noble  encomium  upon 
agriculture,  which  he  represents  as  the  employment 
of  all  others  the  most  worthy  of  man,  the  most  ancient 
and  the  most  suitable  to  his  nature;  as  the  most  com- 
mon nurse  of  all  ages  and  conditions  of  life;  as  the 
source  of  health,  strength,  plenty,  riches,  and  a  thou- 
sand sober  delights  and  honest  pleasures;  as  the  mis- 
tress and  school  of  sobriety,  temperance,  justice,  reli- 
gion; and,  in  a  word,  of  all  kinds  of  virtues  both  civil 
and  military.  After  which  he  relates  the  fine  saying 
•f  Lysandtr,  the  Lacedaemonian,  who,  as  he  was  walk- 
ing at  Sardis  with  the  younger  Cyrus,  hearing  from 
that  prince's  own  mouth,  that  he  himself  had  planted 
several  of  the  trees  he  was  looking  at,  exclaimed,  that 
the  world  had  reason  to  extol  the  happiness  of  Cyrus, 
whose  virtue  was  as  eminent  as  his  fortune,  and  who, 
in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  affluence,  splendour,  and 
magtlificeflCAt  had  yet  preserved  a  taste  so  pure  and 
so  conformable  to  right  reason,  dim  Cyrus  respon- 
disset,'1  Earn  tstn  sum  dimensus,  met  sunt  ordinet, 
men  descriptio,  mnll(t  eliam  istnrnm  arhonim  med 
manii  stint  sa'tz:  dim  I,ystnidrnm,ititnentcm  f jus  pur- 
piiram  el  nitnrem  carports,  ornatnmqne  Persicnm 
midlo  anromnllisi^ie  g-emmis,  dixisse:*  RKCTK  VERO 

TK,  ryRF.,  BEATUM  FERUNT,  QUOMAM  VIRTUTI 
TVJE  FORTUNA  CONJUNCTA  EST.  How  much  it  is  to 
be  wished,  that  our  young  nobility,  who  in  the  time 
of  peace  do  not  know  how  to  employ  themselves,  had 
the  like  taste  for  planting  and  agriculture,  which 
surely  after  such  an  example  as  that  of  Cyrus,  should 
be  thought  no  dishonour  to  their  i,naJily ;  especially 
if  they  would  consider,  that  for  several  ages  it  was  the 
constant  employment  of  the  biavest  and  most  warlike 


•  Xenopli.  CEron.  p.  827—830.  •  Ibid.  830—833. 
i  Cir.  do  Pciirrt   num.  50 

•  In  the  original  Crock  there   ie  still  a  greater  energy. 
. «*.»•£  /uo.  io«ii;,  iV   K0f  i,    iu?ai/u>>»  iVi.  ».•  *)-*H{  •)  x?  fir 
v*f  ivf*iym>v;r;.     Thou  art   worthy,  Cyrui.  of  Hint    htppi- 
cis   ihou  art  pnnsessed  nf;  because,  wi'.ii   t.ll  thy  affluence 

and  prosperity,  tliou  art  also  vir.noup. 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


18«J 


people  in  the  world!  The  reader  may  easily  perceive, 
thai  I  mean  the  ancient  Romans. 

The  Intention  of  Posts  and  Couriers. 
I  promised  to  give  some  account  in  this  place  of  the 
invention  of  posts  and  couriers.  This  invention  is 
««cribe<:-!o  Cyrus,1  nor,  incited,  ran  I  find  any  men- 
tion  of  tucii  an  establishment  before  his  time.  As  the 
Persian  empire,  alter  his  last  conquest,  was  of  a  vast 
•xtent,  and  C\  rus  required  that  all  his  governors  of 
provinces,  and  his  chief  commanders  of  his  troops, 
should  write  to  him,  and  give  an  exact  account  of 
every  thing-  tliat  passed  in  their  several  districts  and 
•rmits;  in  order  to  render  that  correspondence  the 
Kore  sure  and  expeditious,  and  to  enable  himself  to 
l»ceive  speedy  intelligence  of  all  occurrences  and 
•flairs  and  tc  send  his  orders  thereupon  with  expedi- 
tion, he  caused  post-houses  to  be  built,  and  messen- 
gers to  be  appointed,  in  every  province.  Having 
computed  how  far  a  good  horse,  wilh  a  brisk  rider, 
CoulJ  go  in  a  day  without  being  spoiled,  he  had  sta- 
bles built  in  proportion,  at  equal  distances  from  each 
Other,  and  had  them  furnished  with  horses,  and  grooms 
to  take  care  of  them.  At  each  of  these  places  he 
likewise  appointed  a  post-master,  to  receive  the  pack- 
ets from  the  couriers  as  they  arrived,  and  give  them 
to  others;  and  to  take  the  horses  that  had  performed 
their  stage,  and  to  find  fresh  ones.  Thus  the  post 
went  continually  night  and  day  with  extraordinary 
speed;  nor  did  either  rain  or  snow,  heat  or  cold,  or 
any  inclemency  of  the  season,  interrupt  its  progress. 
Herodotus  sjx-aks  of  the  same  sort  of  couriers  in  the 
reign  of  Xerxes.1 

These  couriers  were  called  in  the  Persian  language, 
*A7-y-a|sc«.S  The  superintendency  of  the  posts  became 
a  considerable  employment.  Darius,4  the  last  of  the 
Persian  kings,  had  it  before  he  came  to  the  crown. 
Xenophon  takes  notice  that  this  establishment  sub- 
sisted still  in  his  time:  which  perfectly  agrees  with 
what  is  related  in  the  Book  of  Esther,  concerning  live 
edict  published  by  Ahasut-rus  in  favour  of  the  Jews; 
which  edict  was  carried  through  that  vast  empire  with 
a  rapidity  that  would  have  been  impossible,  without 
these  pn^ts  erected  by  Cyrus. 

\\e  are  justly  surprised  to  find,  that  this  establish- 
ment of  posts  and  couriers,  first  invented  in  the  east 
by  Cyrus,  and  continued  so  many  ages  afterwards  by 
his  successors,  especially  considering  of  what  useful- 
ness it  was  to  the  government,  should  never  have  been 
imitated  in  the  west,  particularly  by  people  so  expert 
in  politics  as  the  Greeks  and  the  Romans. 

It  is  more  astonishing,  that,  where  this  invention 
was  put  in  execution,  it  was  not  farther  improved,  and 
that  the  use  of  it  was  confined  only  to  affairs  of  state 
without  considering  the  many  advantages  the  public 
might  have  reaped  from  it,  by  facilitating  a  mutual 
correspondence,  as  well  as  the  business  ot  merchants 
and  tradesmen  of  all  kinds;  by  forwarding  the  affairs 
of  private  persons;  the  despatch  of  journeys  which 
required  haste;  the  easy  communication  between 
families,  cities,  and  provinces;  and  by  the  safety  and 
conveniency  of  remitting  money  from  one  country  to 
another.  It  is  well  known  what  difficulty  people  at  a 
distance  had  then,  and  for  many  ages  afterwards,  to 
communicate  any  news,  or  to  treat  of  any  affairs 
together;  being  obliged  either  to  send  a  servant  on 
ourposr,  which  could  not  be  done  without  great 
iharge  and  loss  of  time;  or  to  wait  for  the  departure 
>f  some  other  person,  that  was  goin^into  the  province 
>r  country,  wliithe-r  they  had  letters  to  send;  which 
jaethod  was  liable  to  numberless  disappointments, 
Accidents,  and  delays. 

At  present  we  enjoy  this  general  conveniencv  at  a 
small  expense;  but  we  do  not  thoroughly  consider  the 

»  Xen.  Cyrop.  1.  viii.  p.  232. 
»  Her.  1.  'viii.  c.  98. 

•  'A^>xf:i   is  derived  from  a  word  which,  in  that  Ian- 
fua^c,  signifies  a  ferricc  rendered  by  tompultion.  It  i«  from 
thence  ihc  Greek*  borrowed  their  verb  «»-afivii»,  eomftl- 
lire,   toprrt:    nnd    the    Latin»,  utifirimre.     According  to 
Buidts  they  were  likewise  called  tutexdf. 

*  Tlut.  \.  i.  de  fortnn.  Alex.  p.  326.  et  in  vit.  Ale*,  p.  674. 
kbi  pro  Arfmtim,  legend  urn  'Arrive. 


advantage  of  it:  the  want  whereof  would  make  us  ful- 
ly sensible  of  our  happiness  in  this  respect.  1  ranee 
is  indtbud  for  it  to  the  university  of  I  aris,  which  I 
cannot  forbear  observing  here:  1  hope  the  rtactr  \\ill 
excuse  the  digression.  The  university  of  1  aris,  be- 
ing fomif  il_\  (lie  only  one  in  the  kingcom,  and  having 
gitat  niuiibtrsol  si  holars  rt  soiling  to  l.n-  In. in  all  the 
provinces,  and  even  from  the  neighbouring  kirgiloms, 
did,  for  their  sakes  and  conve  nit  n<  y,  establish  messen- 
gers, whose  business  was,  not  only  to  bring  (lollies, 
silver,  and  gold  for  the  students,  but  likewise  to  carry 
bags  of  law  proceedings,  inloiinalioiis,  and  incjutstj; 
to  conduct  all  sorts  of  prisons,  inuitltrtntly,  to  i.r  from 
1  aris,  finding  them  both  hoists  and  ciitt;  as  also  to 
carry  letters,  parcels,  and  packets  for  the  public,  as 
well  as  the  university. 

In  the  university  registers  of  the  Four  Nations,  as 
they  are  called,  of  the  faculty  of  aits,  thtst  mtssen- 
gers  are  often  styled  .A'un/ti  volantes,  to  signiiy  the 
great  speed  and  despatch  they  were  obliged  to  inake. 

The  state,  then,  is  indebted  to  the  uni\ersit\  ol  1  a- 
ris  for  the  invention  arid  establishment  of  liitse  mes- 
sengers and  letter  carriers.  And  it  was  at  her  own 
charge  and  expense  that  she  erected  these  offices;  to 
the  satisfaction  both  of  our  kings  and  the  public.  She 
has  moreover  maintained  and  supported  th<  in  since 
the  year  1576,  against  all  the  various  attempts  of  the 
farmers,  which  has  cost  her  immense  sums,  for  there 
never  \Vere  any  ordinary-  royal  messengers,  till  Henry 
HI.  first  established  ti.tm  in  the  year  1576,  by  his 
edict  of  November,  appointing  them  in  the  same  cities 
as  the  university  had  theirs  in,  and  granting  t  htm  the 
same  rights  and  privileges  as  the  kin^s,  his  predeces- 
sor*, had  granted  the  messengers  ot  the  university. 

The  university  never  had  any  other  fund  or  support 
than  the  profits  arising  from  the  post-office.  And  it 
is  upon  the  foundation  of  the  sanif  revenue,  that  King 
Louis  XV.,  now  on  the  throne,  by  his  decree  of  the 
council  of  state  of  the  14th  of  April,  1719,  and  by  his 
letters  patent,  bearing  the  same  date,  registered  in 
parliament,  and  in  the  chamber  of  accompts,  has 
ordainea,  that  in  all  the  colleges  of  the  said  university 
the  students  shall  be  taught  gratis;  and  has,  to  that 
end,  for  the  time  to  come,  appropriated  to  the  univer- 
sity an  eight-and-twentieth  part  of  the  revenue  arising 
from  the  general  lease  or  farm  of  the  posts  and  mes- 
sengers of  France;  which  eight-and-twentieth  part 
amounted  that  year  to  the  sum  of  18-J.OOO  livres  or 
thereabouts.5 

It  is  not  therefore  without  reason,  that  the  univer- 
sity, to  whom  this  regulation  has  restored  a  part  of  her 
ancient  lustre,  reckons  Louis  XV.  as  a  kind  of  new 
founder,  whose  bounty  has  at  length  delivered  her 
from  the  unhappy  and  shameful  necessity  of  receiving 
wages  for  her  labours;  which  in  some  measure  dis- 
honoured the  dignity  of  her  profession,  as  it  was  con- 
trary to  that  noble,  disinterested  spirit  which  becomes 
it.  And,  indeed,  the  labour  of  masters  and  professors, 
who  instruct  others,  ought  not  to  be  given  for  nothing; 
but  neither  ought  it  to  be  sold.  .Ate  centre  hoe  bt- 
ncfir>itm  oportet,  nee perire* 

SECTION    V. — ADMINISTRATION   OF  THE     REVE- 
NUES. 

THE  prince  is  the  sword  and  buckler  of  the  state; 
by  him  are  the  peace  and  tranquillity  thereof  secured. 
But  to  enable  him  to  defend  it,  he  has  occasion  for 
arm?,  soldiers,  arsenals,  fortified  towns,  and  ships;  end 
all  these  things  require  great  e  xpenses.  It  is  moreover 
just  and  reasonable-,  that  the  king  have  therewithal 
to  support  the  dignity  of  the  crown,  and  the  majesty 
of  the  empire;  as  also  to  enable  him  to  ensure  rever- 
ence and  respect  to  his  person  and  authority.  These 
are  the  two  principal  reasons  that  have  given  occasion 
for  the  exacting  of  tribute  and  imposition  of  taxes.  As 
the  public  advantage,  and  the  necessity  of  defttgrMC 
the  expenses  of  the  state,  have  been  the  first  causes  of 
these  burdens,  so  ought  they  likewise  to  be  the  con- 
stant standard  of  their  use.  Nor  is  there  any  thing  in 
the  world  more  just  and  reasonable  than  such  imposi- 
tions; since  every  private  person  ought  to  think  him 


•  About  8JOW.  iterlinj. 


t  Qointil.  1.  ni.  e.  7. 


190 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC 


self  very  happy  that  h«  can  purchase  his  peace  and 
lecurity  at  the  expense  of  so  slender  a  contribution. 

The  revenues  of  the  Persian  kings  consisted  partly 
in  the  levying  of  taxes  imposed  upon  the  people,1  and 
partly  in  their  being  furnished  with  several  products  of 
the  earth  in  kind;  as  corn,  and  other  provisions,  fo- 
rage, horses,  camels,  or  whatever  varieties  each  par- 
ticular province  afforded.  Strabo  relates,  that  the 
satrap  of  Armenia  sent  regularly  every  year  to  the  king 
of  Persia,  his  master,  20,000  youn^  colts.2  By  this  we 
may  form  a  judgment  of  the  other  levies  in  the  several 
provinces.  The  tributes,  however,  were  only  exacted 
from  the  conquered  nations:  for  the  natural"  subjects, 
that  is,  the  Persians,  were  exempt  from  all  imposi- 
tions. Nor  was  the  custom  of  imposing  taxes,  and  of 
determining  the  sums  each  province  was  yearly  to  pay, 
introduced  till  the  reign  of  Darius;  at  which  time,  tlie 
pecuniary  impositions,  as  near  as  we  can  judge  from 
the  computation  made  by  Herodotus  which  is  attend- 
ed with  great  difficulties,  amounted  to  near  44.000,000, 
French  money-3 

The  place  wherein  was  kept  the  public  treasure, 
was  called  in  the  Persian  language  Gaza*  There 
were  treasures  of  this  kind  at  Susa,  at  Persepolis,  at 
Pasargada,  at  Damascus,5  and  other  cities.  The  gold 
and  silver  were  there  kept  in  ingots,  and  coined  into 
money,  according  as  the  king  had  occasion.  The 
money  chiefly  used  by  the  Persians,  was  of  gold,  and 
called  Darick,  from  the  name  of  Darius,6  w'ho  first 
caused  them  to  he  coined,  with  his  image  on  one  side, 
and  an  archer  on  the  reverse.  The  Darick  is  some- 
times also  called  Slater  nvret/s,  because  the  weight  of 
it,  like  that  of  the  Attic  Stater,  was  two  drachms  of 
gold,  which  were  equivalent  to  twenty  drachms  of  sil- 
ver, and  consequently  were  worth  ten  livres  of  French 
money." 

Besides  these  tributes  which  were  paid  in  money,8 
there  was  another  contribution  made  in  kind,  by  fur- 
nishing victuals  and  provisions  for  the  king's  tabfeand 
household,  grain,  forage,  and  other  necessaries  for  the 
subsistence  of  his  armies,  and  horses  for  the  remount- 
ing of  his  cavalry.  This  contribution  was  imposed 
upon  the  six-score  satrapies,  or  provinces,  each  of  them 
furnishing  such  a  part  as  they  were  severally  taxed  at. 
Herodotus  observes,  that  the  province  of  Babylon,  the 
largest  and  wealthiest  of  them  all,  did  alone  furnish 
the  whole  contribution  for  the  space  of  four  months, 
and  consequently  bore  a  third  part  of  the  burden  of 
the  whole  imposition,  whilst  all  the  rest  of  Asia  toge- 
ther did  but  contribute  the  other  two  thirds. 

By  what  hag  been  already  said  on  this  subject,  we 
gee  the  kings  of  Persia  did  not  exact  all  their  taxes 
and  impositions  in  money,  but  were  content  to  levy 


t  Herod.  I.  iii.  c.  89—97.  «  Lib.  xi.  p.  5.TO 

f  About  2,000.000*.  sterling. 
«  a.  Curt.  I.  iii.  c.  12. 

•  [As  a  proof  of  this,  Alexander  found  in  Damascus  2,600 
talents  of  silver,  and  500  talents  of  uncoined  stiver,  or  ingot*  ; 
in  Arbola,  4000;  in  Susa.  40,000;  in  Persepolis,  120000;  and 
in  Ecbatana   180,000  talents ;  and   0000  daricks  besides  in 
Susa,  amounting  in  all  to  347,100  talents,  or  G7,180,525/.] 

«  Diriu*  the  Mede.  otherwise  called  Cyaxarcn,  is  «ip- 
posed  to  have  been  the  firm  who  caused  this  money  to  be 
coined. 

•i  [Darius  seems  to  have  learned  the  use  and  value  of 
coins  from  the  l.vdians;  for  the  Medes  and  Persians  had  no 
coined  money  before  they  conquered  that  kingdom  ;  whereas 
Crn°«u*.  king  of  Lvdia,  had  coined  innumerable  pieces  of  gold 
called  Croepei,  as  before  stated.  An  it  was  riot  to  be  expect- 
ed that  the  Lydian  coin  should  continue  current  after  the 
downfall  of  thai  power,  it  may  be  supposed  that  Dariu*  re- 
coined  the  Croe»ei  with  his  own  effigies,  without  altering 
their  weight  or  value.  If  it  wan  Darius  Hystaspen,  and  not 
Darius  the  Mede  or  Cyaxares,  (for  authors  are  not  agreed 
mpectin;  this,)  it  may  bo  also  that  he  took  up  thin  notion 
after  his  conquest  of  that  part  of  India  now  called  tho  Pun- 
jaub,  whence  he  collected  a  largo  tribute  in  gold  ;  for  he  re- 
ceived only  a  small  quantity  from  Africa,  (Tlialia,  or  Book 
iv.  chap.  !17.)  although  the  rivers  of  that  continent  abounded 
with  it,  and  the  Carthaginians  trafficked  for  it.  (Melpomene, 
or  Book  v.  chap.  1%.)  The  Daricka  were  called  in  those 
plar.es  of  Scripture  written  after  the  Bahvloninh  captivity, 
.gdarkonim,  and  by  the  Tnlmudisls,  Dnrkomoth,  both  from 
tbe  Greek  A«f.x8i,  that  ii.  Daricks.  Ezra,  yiii.  7.  Bnxtor. 
Talmr.d.  Lex.  p.  577.] 

•  Herod.  L  iii.  c.  91-37.    and  1.  i.  c.  198. 


a  part  of  them  in  money,  and  to  take  the  rest  in  Mich 
products  and  commodities  as  the  several  provinces  af- 
forded ;  which  is  a  proof  of  the  great  wisdom,  modera- 
tion, and  humanity  of  the  Persian  government.  With- 
out doubt  they  had  observed  how  difficult  it  often  if 
for  the  people,  especially  in  countries  al  a  distance  from 
commerce,  to  convert  their  goods  into  money  with- 
out suffering  great  losses;  whereas  nothing  can  tend 
so  much  to  render  the  taxes  easy,  an'd  to  shelter  th« 
people  from  vexation  and  trouble  as  well  as  expense, 
as  the  taking  in  payment  from  each  country  such 
fruits  and  commodities  as  that  country  produces;  by 
which  means  the  contribution  becomes  easy,  natural, 
and  equitable. 

There9  were  likewise  certain  diMricts  assigned  and 
set  apart  for  the  maintaining  of  thr  queen's  toilet  and 
wardrobe;  one  for  her  girdle, another  for  her  veil,  and 
so  on  for  the  rest  of  her  vestments;  and  these  district* 
which  were  of  a  great  extent,  since  one  of  them  con 
tained  as  much  ground  as  a  man  co  .lid  walk  o\«r  in  f 
day :  these  districts,  I  say,  took  thei?  names  from  theii 
particular  use,  or  part  of  the  garments  to  which  they 
were  appropriated;  and  were  accordingly  called,  on« 
the  queen's  girdle,  another  the  queen's  veil,  and  so  (in. 
In  Piato's  time,  the  same  custom  continued  among 
the  Persians. 

The  manner  in  which  the  king  g*ve  pensions  in 
those  days  to  such  persons  as  he  had  n  mind  to  grati- 
fy, was  exactly  like  what  I  have  observed  concerning 
the  queen.10  We  read,  that  the  king  of  Persia  as- 
signed the  revenues  of  four  cities  tc*Thcmistorles; 
one  of  which  was  to  supply  him  with  wi.ie,  another 
with  bread,  the  third  with  meats  for  his  taSIe.  and  the 
fourth  with  his  clothes  and  furniture.  Before  that 
time,  Cyrus  had  acted  in  the  same  manner  toward 
Pytharcous  of  Cyzicus,"  for  whom  he  had  a  |,*ux.icv.- 
lar  consideration,  and  to  whom  he  gave  the  revs.tU  . 
of  seven  cities.  In  following  times,  we  find  IH*JV 
instances  of  a  like  nature. 

ARTICLE  II. 

OF  THEIR  WAR. 

The  people  of  Asia  in  general  were  naturally  of  a 
warlike  disposition,  and  did  not  want  courage:  but  in 
time  they  suffered  themselves  to  be  enervated  by  !-jx- 
ury  and  pleasure.  I  must  however  except  the  Per- 
sians, who  even  before  Cyrus,  and  still  more  during  hij 
reign,  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  people  of  a  very 
military  genius.  The  situation  of  their  country,  which 
is  rugged  and  mountainous,  might  be  one  reason  of 
their  hard  and  frugal  manner  of  living;  which  is,  a 
point  of  no  little  importance  for  the  forming  of  good 
soldiers.  But  the  good  education  which  the  Persians 
gave  their  youth,  was  the  chief  cause  of  the  courage 
and  martial  spirit  of  that  people. 

With  respect  therefore  to  the  manners,  and  particu- 
larly to  the  article  which  I  am  now  treating  of,  wa 
must  make  some  distinction  between  the  different  na- 
tions of  Asia.  So  that  in  the  following  account  of 
military  affairs,  whatever  perfection  and  excellence 
may  be  found  in  the  rules  and  principles  of  war,  is  to 
be  applied  only  to  the  Persians,  as  they  were  in  Cy- 
rus's reign;  the  rest  belongs  to  the  other  nations  of 
Asia,  the  Assyrians,  Babylonians,  Medes,  Lydians, 
and  to  the  Persians  likewise  after  they  had  degene 
rated  from  their  ancient  valour,  which  happened  no 
long  after  Cyrus,  as  will  be  shown  in  the  sequel. 

I.  Their  Entrance  upon  Military  Discipline. 
The  Persians  were  trained  up  to  the  service  from 
their  tender  years,  by  passing  through  different  exer- 
cises.1* Generally  speaking,  they  served  in  the  armies 
from  the  age  of  twenty  to  fifty  years.  And  whether  in 
peace  or  war,  they  always  wore  swords,  as  our  gentle- 
men do,  which  was  never  practised  among  f  he  Greeks 
or  the  Romans.  They  were  obliged  to  enlist  them- 
selves at  the  time  appointed;  and  it  was  esteemed  A 
crime  to  desire  to  be  dispensed  with  in  that  respect,  at 


•  Pint,  in  Alcib.  i.  p.  123. 

«•  Pint,  in  Themif.  p.  127.  ««  Athen.  i.  p.  30. 

<•  8tr»b.  1.  xv.  734.    Am.  Mar.  I.  xziii.  tub  finem 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


191 


wffl  be  seen  hereafter,  by  the  cruel  treatment  given 
bj  Darius  and  Xerxes  to  two  young-  noblemen,  whose 
fathers  had  desired  as  a  favour,  that  their  sons  might 
be  permitted  to  stay  at  home,  for  a  comfort  to  them 
in  their  old  age.1 

Herodotus  speaks  of  a  body  of  troops  appointed  to 
be  the  king's  guard,2  who  were  called  The  immor- 
tals, because  this  body  consisted  always  of  the  same 
number,  which  was  10,000;  for  as  soon  as  any  of  the 
men  died,  another  was  immediately  put  into  his  place. 
The  establishment  of  this  body  probably  began  with 
the  10,000  men  sent  for  hy  Cyrus  out  of  Persia  to  be 
his  guard.  They  were  distinguished  from  all  the  other 
troops  by  the  richnrss  of  their  armour,  and  still  more 
by  their  courage.  Quintus  Curtius  mentions  also  this 
body  of  men,3  and  another  body  besides,  consisting 
of  15.000,  designed  in  like  manner  to  be  a  guard  to 
the  kind's  person:  the  latter  were  called,  Doryphori, 
or  Spearmen. 

II.   Their  Armour. 

The  ordinary  arms  of  the  Persians  were  a  sabre,  or 
•cimitar,  acinaces,  as  it  is  called  in  Latin;  a  kind  of 
dagger,  which  hung  in  their  belt  on  the  right  side; 
a  javelin  or  half  pike,  having  a  sharp-pointed  iron  at 
the  end. 

It  «erms  that  they  carried  two  iavelins,  or  lances, 
one  to  fling,  and  the  other  to  use  in  close  fij.'ht.  They 
made  great  use  of  the  bow,  and  of  the  quiver  in  which 
they  carried  their  arrows.  The  sling  was  not  un- 
known amongst  them;  but  they  did  not  set  much 
value  upon  it. 

It  appears  from  several  passages  in  ancient  authors, 
that  the  Persians  wore  no  helmets,  but  only  their 
common  caps,  which  they  call  tiaras;  this  is  particu- 
larly said  of  Cyrus  the  younger,  and  of  his  army.4 
And  vet  the  same  authors,  in  other  places,  make 
mention  of  their  helmets;  from  whence  we  must  con- 
clude, that  this  custom  had  changed  according-  to  the 
times. 

The  foot  for  the  most  part  wore  cuirasses  made  of 
brass,  which  were  so  artificially  fitted  to  their  bodies, 
that  they  were  no  impediment  to  the  motion  and 
agility  of  their  limbs;  no  more  than  the  vambraces, 
or  greaves  which  covered  the  arms,  thighs,  and  legs  of 
the  horsrmen.  Their  horses  themselves,  for  the  most 
part,  had  their  face*,  chests,  am'  flanks  covered  with 
bra«.  There  were  what  are  called  equi  cataphracti, 
oarbed  horses. 

Authors  differ  very  much  about  the  form  and  fash- 
ion of  the  shields.  At  first  they  made  use  of  very 
small  and  light  ones,  made  onlv  of  twies  of  osier, 
g-trra.  Rut  it  appears  from  several  passages,  that 
thev  tiad  also  shields  of  brass,  which  were  of  a  great 
length. 

\Ve  have  already  observed,  that  in  the  first  ajes 
the  light-armed  soldiers,  that  is,  the  archers  and  tho?e 
who  used  missile  weapons,  composed  the  bulk  of  the 
armies  amongsl  the  Persians  and  Medes.  Cyrus,  who 
had  found  bv  experience,  that  such  troops  were  only 
fit  for  skirmishing,  or  fighting  at  a  distance,  and  who 
thought  it  most  advantageous  to  cofiie  directly  to  close 
fight,  made  a  change  in  his  army,  and  reduced  those 
light-armed  troops  to  a  very  tew,  arming  the  far  great- 
er number  at  all  points,  like  the  rest  of  the  army. 

III.  Chariots  armed  with  Scythes. 
Cyrus  introduced  a  considerable  change  likewise 
with  respict  to  the  chariots  of  war.5  These  had  been 
in  use  H  long  while  before  his  time,  as  appears  both 
from  Homer  and  the  sacred  writings.  These  cha- 
riots had  only  two  wheels,  and  were  generally  drawn 
by  fourhorsfs  abreast,  with  two  men  in  each;  one  of 
distinguished  birth  and  valour,  who  fought,  and  an- 
other, who  was  engaged  only  in  driving  the  chariot. 
Cyrus  thought  this  method,  which  was  very  expen- 
iive.  was  but  of  little  service;  since  for  the  eqiiippine 
of  300  chnnois  were  required  1200  horses,  and  600 
men,  of  which  there  were  but  300  who  really  fought, 


i  Herod.  1.  IT.  and  »i.     Ben.  de  Irs.  1.  iii.  c.  16.  17. 

•  IHd   I.  Tii.  c.  »n.  t  Lib.  iii.  c.  3. 

•  Xen.  de  Exped.  Crr.  1.  i.  p.  263. 

•  Xen.  Cj  rop.  L  »i.  p,  152. 


the  other  300,  though  all  men  of  merit  and  distinction 
and  capable  of  doing  great  service  if  otherwise  em- 
ployed, serving  onlv  as  charioteers  or  drivers.  To 
remedy  this  inconvenience,  he  altered  the  form  of  the 
chariots,  and  doubled  the  number  of  the  fighting  men 
that  rode  in  them,  hy  enabling-  the  drivers  also  to 
fight  as  well  as  the  others. 

He  caused  the  wheels  of  the  chariots  to  be  made 
stronger,  that  they  should  not  be  so  easily  broken; 
and  the  axletrees  to  be  made  longer,  to  make  them 
the  more  firm  and  steady.  At  each  end  of  the  axle- 
tree  he  caused  scythes  to  be  fastened  that  were  three 
feet  long,  and  placed  horizontally;  and  caused  other 
scythes  to  be  fixed  upon  the  same  axletree  with  their 
ecJges  turned  to  the  ground,  that  they  might  cut  In 

tjiecea  men,  or  horses,  or  whatever  the  impetuous  vio- 
ence  of  the  chariot  should  overturn.  It  appears  from 
several  passages  in  authors,6  that  in  after-times,  be- 
sides all  this  they  added  two  long  iron  spikes  at  the 
end  of  the  pole,  in  order  to  pierce  whatever  came  in 
the  way;  and  that  they  armed  the  hinder  part  of  the 
chariot  with  several  rows  of  sharp  knives  to  hinder 
any  one  from  mounting  behind. 

These  chariots  were  in  use  for  many  ages  in  all  the 
Eastern  countries.  They  were  looked  upon  as  the 
principal  strength  of  the  armies,  as  the  most  certain 
cause  of  the  victory,  and  as  an  apparatus  the  molt 
capable  of  all  other  to  strike  the  enemy  with  con* 
sternation  and  terror. 

But  in  proportion  as  the  military  art  improved,  the 
inconveniences  of  them  were  discovered,  and  at  length 
they  were  laid  aside.  For,  in  order  to  reap  any  ad- 
vantage from  them,  it  was  necessary  to  fight  in  vast 
and  extensive  plains,  where  the  soil  was  very  even, 
and  where  there  were  no  rivulets,  gulleys,  woods,  nor 
vineyards. 

In  after-times  several  methods  were  invented  to  ren 
der  these  chariots  absolutely  useless.7  It  was  enough 
to  cut  a  ditch  in  their  way,  which  immediately  stopped 
their  course.  Sometimes  an  able  and  experienced 
general,  as  Kumenes  in  the  battle  which  Scipio  fought 
with  Antiochus,  would  attack  the  chariots  with  a  de- 
tachment of  slin?ers,  archers,  and  spearmen,  who, 
spreading  themselves  on  all  sides,  would  pour  such  a 
storm  of  stones,  arrows,  and  lances  upon  them,  and  at 
the  same  time  fall  a  shouting  so  loud  with  the  whole 
army,  that  they  terrified  the  horses,  and  oftf  n  made 
them  turn  upon  their  own  forces.  At  other  times  they 
would  render  the  chariots  useless  and  incapahle  of 
acting,8  only  by  marching  over  the  space,  which  sepa- 
rated the  two  armies,  with  an  extraordinary  swiftness, 
and  advancing  suddenly  upon  the  enemy.  For  the 
strength  and  execution  of  the  chariots  proceeded  from 
the  length  of  their  course,  which  was  what  gave  that 
inipftuosity  and  rapidity  to  their  motion,  without 
which  they  were  but  very  feeble  and  insignificant.  It 
was  after  this  manner,  that  the  Romans  under  Sylla, 
at  the  battle  of  Chaeronapa,  defeated  and  put  to  flight 
the  enemy's  chariots,  raising  loud  (teals  of  laughter, 
and  crying  out  to  them,  as  if  they  had  been  at  the 
games  of  the  Circus,  to  send  more. 

TV.  Their  Discipline  in  Pence  as  well  as  War. 

Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  perfect  than  the  dis- 
cipline and  good  order  of  the  troops  in  Cyrus's  reign, 
whether  in  peace  or  war. 

The  method  used  by  that  great  prince  in  peace,  ai 
is  fully  related  in  Xenophon's  Cyroptrdia,\n  order  to 
form  his  troops,  by  frequent  exercises,  to  inure  them 
to  fatigue  by  keeping  them  continually  employed  in 
laborious  works,  to  prepare  them  for  real  battles  by 
mock  engagements,  to  fire  them  with  courage  ana 
resolution  by  exhortations,  praises,  and  rewards:  all 
this,  I  sav,  is  a  perfect  model  for  all  who  have  the 
command  of  troop*,  to  which,  generally  speaking, 
peace  and  tranquillitv  become  extremely  pernicious, 
for  a  relaxation  of  discipline,  which  usually  ensues, 
enervates  the  vigour  of  the  soldiers:  and  their  inac- 
tion blunts  that  eds:e  of  conrage,  which  the  motion  of 
armies,  and  the  approach  of  enemies,  infinitely  sharpea 


•  Lir.  1.  rxxvii.  n.  41. 

t  Ibid. 


•  Plut.taBTLp.4C3. 


192 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


mnd  excite.  A  wise  foresight  of  the  future  ought  to 
make  v.s  prepare  in  time  of  peace  whatever  may  be 
nee.lfui  in  time  of  war.1 

Whtnever  the  Persian  armies  marched,  every  thing 
was  ordered  and  carried  on  with  as  much  regularity 
and  exactness  as  on  a  day  of  battle:  not  a  soldier  or 
officer  daring  to  quit  his  rank,  or  remove  from  the 
colours.  It  was  the  custom  amongst  all  the  nations 
of  Asia,  whenever  they  encamped,  though  but  for  a 
day  or  a  night,  to  have  their  camp  surrounded  with 
pretty  deep  ditches.  This  they  did  to  prevent  being 
surprised  by  the  enemy,  and  that  they  might  not  be 
forced  to  engage  against  their  inclinations.  They 
usually  contented  themselves  with  covering  their  camp 
with  a  bank  of  earth  dug  out  of  these  ditches;2  though 
sometimes  they  fortified  them  with  strong  palisadoes, 
and  long  stakes  driven  into  the  ground. 

By  what  has  been  said  of  their  discipline  in  time 
of  peace,  and  in  the  marching  and  encamping  their 
armies,  we  may  judge  of  that  which  was  preserved  on 
the  day  of  battle.  Nothing  can  be  more  deserving  our 
admiration  than  the  accounts  we  have  of  it  in  the 
several  parts  of  the  Cyropaedia.  No  single  family 
could  be  better  regulated,  or  pay  a  more  speedy  and 
exact  obedience  to  the  first  signal,  than  the  whole 
army  of  Cyrus.  He  had  long  accustomed  them  to 
that  prompt  obedience,  on  which  the  success  of  all 
enterprises  depends.  For  what  avails  the  best  head 
in  the  world,  if  the  arms  do  not  act  conformably,  and 
follow  its  directions?  At  first  he  had  used  some  se- 
rerity,  which  is  necessary  in  the  beginning,  in  order 
to  establish  good  discipline;  but  this  severity  was 
always  accompanied  with  reason,  and  tempered  with 
kindness.  The  example  of  their  leader,3  who  was 
the  first  upon  all  duty,  gave  weight  and  authority  to 
his  injunctions,  and  softened  the  rigour  of  his  com- 
mands. The  unalterable  rule  he  laid  down  to  him- 
self, of  granting  nothing  but  to  merit  only,  and  of 
refusing  every  thing  to  favour,  was  a  sure  means  of 
keeping  all  the  officers  attached  to  their  duty,  and  of 
maki  112:  them  perpetually  vigilant  and  careful.  For 
there  is  nothing  more  discouraging  to  persons  of  that 
profession,*  even  to  those  who  love  their  prince  and 
their  country,  than  to  see  the  rewards,  to  which  the 
dangers  they  have  undergone,  and  the  blood  they 
have  spilt,  entitle  them,  conferred  upon  others.  Cyrus 
had  the  art  of  inspiring  even  his  common  soldiers  v^ith 
a  teal  for  discipline  and  order,  by  first  inspiring  them 
with  a  love  for  their  country,  for  their  honour,  and 
their  fellow-citizens  ;  and,  above  all,  bv  endearing 
himself  to  them  by  his  bounty  and  liberality.  These 
are  the  true  and  onlv  methods  of  establishing  and 
supporting  military  discipline  in  it*  full  force  and 
rigour. 

V.   Their  order  of  Battle. 

As  there  were  but  very  few  fortified  places  in  Cy- 
rus's time,  all  their  wars  were  little  else  than  field 
expeditions;  for  which  reason  that  wise  prince  found 
out,  by  his  own  reflection  and  experience,  that  no- 
thing contributed  more  to  decide  a  victory  than  a 
numerous  and  good  cavalry;  and  the  gainins:  of  one 
single  pitched  battle  was  often  attended  with  the  con- 
quest of  a  whole  kingdom.  Accordinjlv  we  fee,  that 
having  found  the  Persian  army  entirely  destitute  of 
that  important  and  necessary  succour,  he  turned  all 
his  thoughts  towards  remedying  that  defect;  and,  by 
his  £reat  application  and  activity,  succeeded  in  form- 
ing a  body  of  Persian  cavalry,  which  became  superior 
to  that  of  his  enemies,  in  goodness,  at  least,  if  not  in 
.umber.  There  were  several  breeds  of  horses  in  Per- 
sia and  Media;5  but  in  the  latter  province,  those  of 


Metuennque  fniuri. 


In  pare,  ut  rapieni.  aptSril  idonea  hello. 

//or.  Satir.  ii.  1.  2. 

*  !*«!.!  i.  ,,.  24. 2.-S. 

»  Dux.  rnliu  levi.  r.ipite  intcrto,  in  a:rmin«>,  in  laboriboi 
ft»r|in-n«  itilf««p  :  lanrlem  «lrrnni»,  solatium  invnlirii*,  r>xem- 
p!um  omrihu*  ostemlcre.  Tacit.  .1nna!  I.  xiii.  rap.  35. 

«  rv  cidi-np  in  irrilum  laborrn.  »i  prnrnia  porirulorom  noli 
•••e^nani'ir,  qui  pericului  non  affuertint.  Taeit.  ffitt.  lib 
ill.  ran  tt. 

•  Herod.  I.  rii.  c.  40.    Strtb.  I.  xi.  p.  m 


a  place  called  Nisea.  were  the  most  esteemed;  and  it 
was  trom  thence  the  kinsf's  stable  was  furnished.  \Ve 
shall  now  examine  what  use  they  made  of  their  cavalry 
and  inlantry. 

The  celebrated  battle  of  Thymbra  may  serve  to 
give  us  a  just  notion  of  the  tactics  of  the  ancient*  in 
the  days  of  Cyrus,  and  to  show  how  far  their  ability 
extended  either  in  the  use  of  arms,  or  the  disposition 
of  armies. 

They  knew  that  the  most  advantageous  order  of 
battle  was  to  place  the  infantry  in  the  centre,  and  the 
cavalry,  which  consisted  chieflv  of  the  cuirassiers,  on 
the  two  wings  of  the  army.  By  this  disposition  th« 
flanks  of  the  foot  were  covered,  and  the  horse  were 
at  liberty  to  act  and  extend  themselves  as  occasion 
should  require. 

They  likewise  understood  the  necessity  of  drawing 
out  an  army  into  several  lines,  in  order  to  support  one 
another;  because  otherwise,  as  one  single  line  might 
easily  be  pierced  through  and  broken,  it  would  not  bt 
able  to  rally,  and  consequently  the  army  would  be  lef 
without  resource.  For  which  reason  they  formed  the 
first  line  of  foot  heavily  armed,  twelve  men  deep,' 
who,  on  the  first  onset,  made  use  of  the  half-pike :  and 
afterwards,  when  the  fronts  of  the  two  armif-s  came 
close  together,  engaged  the  enemy  body  to  body  with 
their  swords  or  scimitar?. 

The  second  line  consisted  of  such  men  as  were 
lightly  armed,  whose  manner  of  fighting  was  to  Hing 
their  javelins  over  the  heads  of  the  first.  These  jave- 
lins were  made  of  a  heavy  wood,  were  pointed  with 
iron,  and  were  flung  with  great  violence.  The  design 
of  them  was  to  put  the  enemy  into  disorder,  before 
they  came  to  close  fight. 

The  third  line  consisted  of  archers,  whose  bows  be- 
ing bent  with  the  utmo-t  force,  carried  their  arrows 
over  the  heads  of  the  two  preceding  lints,  and  ex- 
tremely annoyed  the  enemy.  These  archers  were 
sometimes  mixed  with  slingers,  who  slung  great  stones 
with  a  terrible  force;  but,  in  after-time,  the  RhoH'mns, 
instead  of  stones,  made  use  of  leaden  bullets,  which 
the  slings  carried  a  great  deal  farther. 

A  fourth  line,  formed  of  men  armed  in  the  same 
manner  as  those  of  the  first,  formed  the  rear  of  the 
main  body.  This  line  was  intended  for  the  support 
of  the  others,  and  to  keep  them  to  their  duty,  in  case 
they  gave  way.  It  served  likewise  for  a  rear  piard, 
and"  a  body  of  reserve  to  repulse  the  enemy,  if  they 
should  happen  to  penetrate  so  far. 

They  had  besides  moving  towers, carried  upon  huge 
wagsrons,  drawn  bv  sixteen  oxen  each,  in  which  were 
twenty  men,  whose  business  was  to  discharge  stones 
and  javelins.  These  were  placed  in  the  rear  of  the 
whofe  army,  behind  the  body  of  reserve,  and  served 
to  support  their  troops,  when  they  were  driven  back 
by  the  enemy,  and  to  favour  their  rallying  when  in 
disorder. 

They  made  great  u«e  too  of  their  chariots  armed 
with  scythes,  as  we  have  already  observed.  These" 
they  generally  placed  in  the  front  of  the  battle,  and 
some  of  them  they  occasionally  stationed  on  the  flanks 
of  the  army,  when  they  had  any  reason  to  fear  their 
bein<;  surrounded. 

This  is  nearly  the  extent  to  which  the  ancients  car- 
ried their  knowledge  in  the  military  art,  with  respect 
to  their  battles  and  engagements.  But  we  do  not  find 
they  had  any  skill  in  choosing  advantageous  posts, 
in  seasonably  possessing  themselves  of  a  farotirable 
spot,  of  bringing  the  war  into  a  close  countrr;  of  ma- 
king use  of  defiles  and  narrow  passes,  either  to  molest 
the  army  in  their  march,  or  to  cover  themselves  from 
their  attacks;  of  lying:  in  artful  ambuscades;  of  pro- 
tracting a  campaign  to  a  great  length  bv  wise  delays; 
of  no_t  suffering  a  superior  enemy  to  forre  them  to  a 
decisive  action,  and  of  reducing  him  to  the  necessity 
of  preying  upon  himself  through  the  want  of  forage 
and  provisions.  Neither  do  we  see  that  they  had 
much  regard  to  the  defending  of  their  right  and  left 
with  rivers,  marshes,  or  mountains;  and  by  that  means 
of  making  the  front  of  a  smaller  army  equal  to  that 
of  another  much  more  numerous;  and  of  putting  it 


•  Before  Cyrut*i  time  ft  wu  of  twenty-fonr  men 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS.  ETC. 


193 


oat  of  the  eneim's  power  to  surround  or  take  them 
if   Uark 

Yet  in  Cyrus's  first  campaign  against  the  Arme- 
nian!, and  afterwards  against  the  Babylonians,  there 
teem  to  have  been  some  beginnings,  some  essays,  as 
it  ni-re,  of  this  art:  but  they  were  not  improved,  or 
curried  to  any  degree  of  perfection  in  those  days. 
Tinie,  reflection,  and  experience  made  the  great  com- 
manders in  after  ages  acquainted  with  these  precau- 
tions and  subtleties  of  war;  and  we  have  already 
shown,  in  the  wars  of  the  Carthaginians,  what  use 
Hannibal,  F'abius,  Scipio,  and  other  generals  of  both 
nations  made  of  them. 

VI.   Their  manner  of  at  lacking- and  defending  strong 

Placet. 

The  ancients  both  devised  and  executed  all  that 
Could  be  expected  from  the  nature  of  the  arms  known 
tn  tlieir  days,  as  also  from  the  force  and  the  variety  of 
engines  then  in  use,  either  for  attacking  or  defending 
fortified  places. 

1.  Their  icay  nf  attacking  Placet. 

The  first  method  of  attacking  a  place  was  by  block- 
ade. They  invested  the  town  with  a  wall  built  quite 
rou  id  it,  and  in  which,  at  proper  distances,  were 
made  redoubts  and  places  of  arms  ;  or  else  they 
thought  it  sutFirii  nt  to  surround  it  completely  by  a 
deep  trench,  which  they  strongly  fenced  with  psilfsa- 
does,  to  hinder  the  besieged  from  making  a  sally,  as 
well  as  to  prevent  succours  or  provisions  from  being 
brought  in.  In  this  manner  they  waited  till  famine 
rid  what  they  could  not  effect  by  force  or  art.  From 
Lence  proceeded  the  length  of  the  sieges  related  in 
ancient  history;  as  that  of  Troy,  which  lasted  ten 
years;'  tliat  of"  Azotus  by  Psammeticus,  which  lasted 
twenty-nine;  that  of  Nineveh,  where  we  have  seen 
that  Sardanapalus  defended  himself  for  the  space  of 
»ev<  n.  And  Cyrus  might  have  lain  a  long  time  before 
Babylon, where  they  had  laid  in  a  stock  of  provisions 
for  twenty  years,  if  he  had  not  used  a  different  method 
for  taking  it. 

As  they  found  blockades  extremely  tedious  from 
their  duration,  they  invented  the  method  of  scaling, 
which  was  done  by  raising  a  great  number  of  ladder* 
»gain»'i  the  walls,  by  means  whereof  a  great  manv  file* 
ef  soldiers  might  climb  up  together,  and  force"  their 
irav  in. 

To  render  this  method  of  scaling  impracticable,  or 
•t  least  ineffectual,  they  made  the  walls  of  their  city 
•Xtremely  high,  and  the  towers,  wherewith  they  were 
tanked,  still  considerably  higher,  that  the  ladd"ers  of 
•he  besiegers  miglit  not  be  able  to  reach  the  top  of 
them.  This  obliged  them  to  find  out  some  other  way 
»f  getting  to  the  top  of  the  ramparts:  and  this  was  by 
building  moving  towers  of  wood,  still  higher  than  the 
wall*,  and  by  approaching  them  with  those  wooden 
towers.  On  the  top  of  these  towers,  which  formed  a 
'kind  of  platform,  was  placed  a  competent  number  of 
loldiers,  who,  with  darts,  and  arrows,  and  the  assist- 
ance of  their  balista?  and  catapults,  scoured  the  ram- 
parts, and  cleared  them  of  the  defenders;  and  then 
from  a  lower  stage  of  the  tower,  they  let  down  a  kind 
>f  drawbridge,  which  rested  upon  the  wall,  and  gave 
!lie  soldiers  admittance. 

A  third  method,  which  extremely  shortened  the 
length  of  their  sieves,  was  that  of  the  battering-ram, 
>y  which  tliry  made  breaches  in  the  walls,  and  opened 
thfinsf  Ives  a  passage  into  the  places  besieged.  This 
battering-ram  was  a  vast  beam  of  timber,  with  a 
itrong  head  of  iron  or  brass  at  the  end  of  it;  which 
was  pushed  with  the  utmost  force  against  the  walls. 
Of  these  there  were  several  kinds. 

They  had  still  a  fourth  method  of  attacking  places, 
which  was  that  of  sapping  and  undermining;  and  this 
was  done  two  different  ways:  that  is,  either  bj  car- 
rying on  a  subterranean  path  quite  under  the  walls, 
orto  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  so  opening  themselves 
i  passage  into  it;  or  else  after  they  had  sapped  the 
foundation  of  the  wall,  and  put  supporters  under  it. 


i  Hom«r  maket  BO  mention  ef  the  battering-ram,  «r  a*y 
arfffct  engine. 

VOL.  I.—  25 


by  filling  the  space  with  all  sorts  of  coirbustible  mat- 
ter, and  then  setting  that  matter  on  fire,  in  order  to 
burn  clown  the  supporters,  calcine  the  materials  ol  tL» 
wall,  and  throw  down  part  of  it. 

2.   Their  manner  nf  defending  Plmcet. 

V.'ith  respect  to  the  fortifying  and  defending  of 
town«,  the  ancients  made  use  of  all  the  fundamental 
principles  and  essential  rules  now  practised  in  the  art 
of  fortification.  They  had  the  method  of  overflowing 
the  country  round  about,  to  hinder  the  enemy's  ap- 
proaching the  town;  they  made  deep  and  sloping 
ditches,  and  fenced  them  round  wi.i.  pOisadoes,  to 
make  the  enemy's  ascent  or  descent  the  more  diffi- 
cult; they  made  their  ramparts  very  thick,  and  fenced 
them  with  stone  or  brick-work,  that  the  battering-ram 
should  not  be  able  to  demolish  them;  and  very  high, 
that  the  scaling  of  them  should  be  equally  impractica- 
ble; they  had  their  projecting  towers,  from  whence 
our  modern  bastions  derive  their  origin,  for  the  Hank- 
ing of  the  curtains;  they  invented  with  much  inge- 
nuity different  machines'  for  the  shooting  of  arrows, 
throwing  of  darts  and  lances,  and  hurling  of  great 
stones  with  vast  force  and  violence;  they  had  their 
parapets  and  battlements  in  the  walls  for  the  soldier's 
security,  and  their  covered  galleries,  which  went  quite 
round 'the  walls,  and  served  as  casements;  their  in- 
trenchments  behind  the  breaches  and  necks  of  the 
towers;  they  made  their  sallies  too,  in  order  to  destroy 
the  works  o'f  the  besiegers,  and  to  set  their  engines 
on  fire;  as  also  their  countermines  to  render  useless 
the  mines  of  the  enemy;  and,  lastly,  they  built  cita- 
del«  as  places  of  retreat  in  cases  of  extremity,  to  serve 
as  the  last  resource  to  a  garrison  upon  the  point  of 
being  forced,  and  to  make  the  taking  of  the  town  of 
no  effect,  or  at  least  to  obtain  a  more  advantageous 
capitulation.  All  these  methods  of  defending  places 
against  those  that  besieged  them,  were  known  in  the 
art  of  fortification  as  it  was  practised  among  the  an- 
cients; and  they  are  the  very  same  as  are  now  in  use 
among  the  moderns,  allowing  for  such  alteration  at 
the  difference  of  arms  has  occasioned. 

I  thought  it  necessary  to  enter  into  this  detail,  in 
order  to  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  ancient  manner 
of  defending  fortified  towns;  as  also  to  remove  a  pre- 
judice which  prevails  among  many  of  the  moderns, 
who  iiragine,  that  because  new  names  are  now  given 
to  the  same  things,  the  things  themselves  are  there- 
fore different  in  nature  and  principle.  Since  the  in- 
vention of  gunpowder,  cannon  indeed  have  been  sub- 
stituted in  the  place  of  the  battering-ram;  and  musket- 
shot  in  the  room  ofbalistap,  catapulta?,  scorpions,  jav- 
elins, slings,  and  arrows.  But  does  it  therefore  follow, 
that  any  of  the  fundamental  rules  of  foitification  are 
changed?  By  no  means.  The  ancients  made  as  much 
of  the  solidity  of  bodies,  and  the  mechanic  powers  of 
motion,  as  art  and  ingenuity  would  admit. 

VII.   The  Condition  of  the  Persian  Forces  after  Cy- 
rus's Time. 

I  have  already  observed,  more  than  once,  that  we 
must  not  judge  of  the  merit  and  courage  of  the  Persian 
troops  at'all  times,  by  what  we  see  of  them  in  Cyrus's 
reign.  I  shall  conclude  this  article  of  war  with  a  judi- 
cious reflection  made  by  Monsieur  Bossuet,  bishop  of 
Meaux.  on  that  subject.  He  observes,  that  after  the 
death  of  that  prince,  the  Persians,  generally  speaking, 
were  ignorant  of  the  great  advantages  that  result  from 
severity,  discipline,  skill  in  drawing  up  an  army,  order 
in  marching  and  encamping;  and,  in  short,  that  hap- 
piness »f  conduct,  which  puts  those  great  bodies  in 
motion  without  disorder  or  confusion.  Full  of  a  vain 
ostentation  of  their  power  and  greatness,  and  relying 
more  upon  strength  than  prudence,  upon  the  number 
rather  than  the  choice  of  their  troop*,  they  thought 
they  had  done  all  that  was  necessary,  when  they  had 
drawn  together  immense  numbers  of  people,  who 
fought  indeed  with  resolution  enough,  but  without  or- 
der, and  who  found  themselves  encumbered  with  the- 
vast  multitudes  of  useless  persons,  who  formed  the  re- 
tinue of  the  king  and  his  chief  officers.  For  to  such  a 
height  was  their  luxury  grown,  that  they  would  needs- 
have  the  tame  magnificence,  and  enjoy  the  same  plea- 


794 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


Hires  ind  delights  in  the  army,  as  in  the  king's  court; 
to  that  in  their  wars  the  kings  marched  accompanied 
witli  their  wives,  their  concubines,  and  all  their  eu- 
nuch*. Their  silver  and  gold  plate,  and  all  their  rich 
I'erniture,  were  carried  after  them  in  prodigious  quan- 
tities; and,  in  short,  all  the  equipage  and  utensils  so 
voluptuous  a  life  requires.  An  army  composed  in  this 
manner,  and  already  clogged  with  the  excessive  num- 
ber of  troops,  was  overburthened  with  the  additional 
load  of  vast  multitudes  of  such  as  did  not  light.  In 
this  confusion,  the  troops  could  not  act  in  concert: 
their  orders  never  reached  them  in  time;  and  in  action 
every  thing  went  on  at  random,  as  it  were,  without 
the  possibility  of  any  commander's  being  able  to  re- 
nitdy  this  disorder.  Add  to  this,  the  necessity  they 
were  under  of  finishing  an  expedition  quickly,  and  of 
passing  into  an  enemy's  countrv  with  great  rapidity; 
because  such  a  vast  body  of  people,  greedy  not  only  of 
the  necessaries  of  life,  but  of  such  things  also  as  were 
requisite  for  luxury  and  pleasure,  consumed  every- 
thing that  could  be  met  with  in  a  very  short  time:  nor 
indeed  is  it  easy  to  comprehend  from  whence  they 
could  procure  subsistence. 

However,  with  !rll  this  vast  train,  the  Persians  as- 
tonished those  nations  that  were  not  better  acquainted 
with  military  affairs  than  themselves;  and  many  of 
those  that  were  more  expert,  were  yet  overcome  by 
them,  being  either  weakened  by  their  own  dissensions, 
or  overpowered  by  the  numbers  of  the  enemy.  And 
by  this  means  Egypt,  proud  as  she  was  of  her  anti- 
quity, her  wise  institutions,  and  the  conquests  of  Se- 
sostris,  became  subject  to  the  Persians.  Nor  was  it 
difficult  for  them  to  conquer  the  lesser  Asia,  and  even 
tuch  Greek  colonies  as  the  luxury  of  Asia  had  cor- 
rupted. But  when  they  carve  to  engage  with  Greece 
itself,  they  found  what  they  had  never  met  with  before, 
regular  and  well-discip  ined  troops,  skilful  and  expe- 
rienced commanders,  soldiers  accustomed  to  temper- 
ance, whose  bodies  were  inured  to  toil  and  labour,  and 
rendered  both  robust  and  active,  by  wrestling  and 
other  exercises  practised  in  that  country.  The  Gre- 
cian armies  indeed  were  but  small;  but  th«y  were  like 
strong,  vigorous  bodies,  that  seem  to  be  all  nerves  and 
sinews  and  full,  of  spirits  in  every  part;  at  the  same 
time  they  were  so  well  commanded,  and  so  prompt  in 
obeying  the  orders  of  their  generals,  that  one  would 
have  thought  all  the  soldiers  had  been  actuated  by 
one  soul ;  so  perfect  a  harmony  was  there  in  all  their 
motions. 

ARTICLE  III. 

ARTS   AND   SCIENCES. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  give  an  account  of  the  Eastern 
poetry,  of  which  we  know  little  more  than  what  we 
find  in  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  Those  pre- 
cious fragments  are  sufficient  to  let  us  know  the  ori- 
gin of  poesy;  its  true  design;  the  use  that  was  made  of 
it  by  those  inspired  writers,  namely,' to  celebrate  the 
perfections,  and  sing  the  wonderful  works  of  God,  as 
also  the  dignity  and  sublimity  of  style  which  ought  to 
accompany  it,  adapted  to  the  majesty  of  the  subjects 
on  which  It  treats.  The  discourses  of  Job's  friends, 
who  lived  in  the  East,  as  he  himself  did,  and  who  were 
distinguished  among  the  Gentiles  as  much  by  their 
learning  as  their  birth,  may  likewise  give  us  some 
notion  of  the  eloquence  that  prevailed  in  those  early 
age*. 

What  the  Egyptian  priests  said  of  the  Greeks  in 
general,  and  of  the  Athenians  in  particular,  according 
to  Plato  '  that  they  were  but  children  in  antiquity,  is 
very  trm-  -vith  respect  to  arts  and  sciences,  tHte  inven- 
•tion  of  which  they  have  falsely  ascribed  to  chimerical 
persons,  much  posterior  to  the  deluge.  The  Holy 
Scripture  informs  us,'  that  before  that  epocha,  God 
aad  discovered  to  mankind  the  art  of  tilling  and  culti- 
vating the  ground,  of  feeding  their  flocks  and  cattle, 
when  their  habitation  was  in  tents;  of  spinning  wool 
and  flax,  and  weaving  it  into  stuffs  and  linen;  of  for- 
ging anrl  polishing  iron  and  brass,  and  rendering  them 
subservient  to  numberless  uses  that  are  necessary  and 
convenient  for  life  and  society. 


In  Timeo,  p.  23 


•  Gen.  iv. 


We  learn  from  the  same  Scriptures,  that  verysoon 
after  the  deluge,  human  industry  had  made  several 
discoveries  very  worthy  of  admiration;  as,  1.  The  art 
of  spinning  gold  thread,  and  of  interweaving  it  with 
stufls.  2.  That  of  beating  gold,  and  with  light  thin 
leaves  of  it  gilding  wood  and  other  materials.  3.  The 
secret  of  casting  metals1  as  brass,  silver,  or  go!d 
and  of  making  all  sorts  of  figures  with  them  in  imiia- 
tion  of  nature;  of  representing  any  kind  of  diffe-en1. 
objects;  and  of  making  an  infinite  variety  of  vessels 
of  those  metals,  for  use  and  ornament.  4.  The  art 
of  painting,  or  carving  upon  wood,  stone  or  niarnle: 
and,  5.  to  name  no  more,  that  of  dying  theii  silks  nnd 
stuffs,  and  giving  them  the  most  exquisite  and  beau- 
tiful colours. 

As  it  was  in  Asia  that  men  first  settled  after  the  Je- 
luge,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  that  Asia  must  have  b<:en 
the  cradle,  as  it  were,  of  arts  and  sciences,  t!ir  remem- 
brance of  which  had  been  preserved  by  tradition ;  rnd 
which  were  afterwards  revived  again,  and  restored 
by  means  of  men's  wants  and  necessities. 

SECTION    I.— ARCHITECTURE. 

THE  building  of  the  tower  of  Babel,  and  shordy 
after,  of  those  famous  cities  Babylon  and  IVinevrh 
which  have  been  looked  upon  as  prodigies;  the  gran 
deur  and  magnificence  of  the  palaces  of  the  kings  ard 
noblemen,  divided  into  sundry  halls  and  apartments, 
and  adorned  with  every  thing  that  either  decency  or 
conveniency  could  require;  the  regularity  and  sym- 
metry of  the  pillars  and  vaulted  rooi's,  raised  and  mul- 
tiplied one  upon  another;  the  noble  gates  of  their 
cities;  the  breadth  and  thickness  of  their  rampar'.s;  tht 
height  and  strength  of  their  towers;  the  convenience 
of  their  quays  on  the  banks  of  the  great  rivers;  ard  the 
boldness  of  the  bridges  thrown  over  them:  all  these 
things,  I  say,  with  many  other  works  of  the  like  nature, 
show  to  what  a  pitch  of  perfection  architecture  \va» 
carried  in  those  ancient  tunes. 

I  know  not,  however,  whether  in  those  ages  this  art 
rose  to  that  degree  of  perfection,  which  it  afterwtrds 
attained  in  Greece  and  Italy;  or  whether  those  vast 
structures  in  Asia  and  Egypt,  so  much  boosted  of  by 
the  ancients,  were  as  remarkable  for  their  beauty  and 
regularity,  as  they  were  for  their  magni/  ide  and  <;x- 
tent.  We  hear  of  five  orders  in  architecture  th» 
Tuscan,  Doric,  Ionic,  Corinthian,  and  Composit*:;  but 
we  never  hear  of  an  Asiatic  or  Egyptian  order:  which 
gives  us  reason  to  doubt  whether  the  synunetrr,  mea- 
sures, and  proportions  of  pillars,  pilasters,  ar.cl  other 
ornaments  in  architecture,  were  exactly  obst  rved  in 
those  ancient  structures.3 


'  [Rollin  seems  to  carry  hi*  notions  of  the  excellence  of 
Oriental  architecture  too  far.  To  talk  of  vaulted  hall?,  in 
ages  and  in  countries  when  nnd  where  the  doctrine  of  the 
arch  was  unknown,  is  to  speak  at  random.  \o  arches  ore  to 
he  found  in  any  of  the  ruined  temples  of  Egypt.  The  roofs 
of  these  buildings  were  horizontal,  and  covered  with  lurge 
stones,  reaching  the  whole  breadth  of  the  roof.  No  arches 
have  yet  been  discovered  in  the  ruins  of  Babvlon  nor  Peisep 
olis.  The  only  instance  of  a  vaulted  hall  that  lias  yet  bees 
found,  is  in  the  ruin  of  the  Tiiuk  Kesni,  or  Throne  of  f'hoa- 
roes,  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris.  It  must  bo  remembered, 
however,  that  Chosroes.  or  Khosrou  Noosherwan,  reigned  in 
the  sixth  century,  or  nigh  twelve  centuries  after  the  en  of 
Cyrus,  at  a  time  when  the  Orientals  learned  the  art  of  con- 
structing arches  from  their  western  neighbours  the  Romans, 
whose  empire  formed  the  western  limit  nf  the  Persian  c!> 
minion  in  the  days  of  the  Sassanides.  The  Tauk  Kesia  if 
a  vast  building  of  nearly  TOO  feet  in  length,  by  100  in  dfpth, 
having  in  the  centre  a  vaulted  kail,  about  PO  or  100  fe.-t  in 
height  to  the  top  of  the  arch,  whose  span  is  more  than  80 
feet.  Its  walls  are  of  a  degree  fully  proportioned  to  the 
weight  of  the  fuj)or«tructure.  the  piers  of  the  vault  being  S3 
feet  thick,  and  the  front  wall  10J  feet.  It  is  void  of  clcgancu. 
and  gives  the  idea  of  a  barbarous  imitation  of  Grecian  arch- 
itecture. 

It  may  be  here  stated,  on  the  authority  of  Sir  William 
Ooiiely.  (Travels,  vol.  ii.  p.  2^.  n.  t>7.)  that  two  American! 
Utely  climbed  up,  with  much  difficulty,  to  the  summit  of  iU 
lofty  walla,  and  found  some  remains  of  Indian  tenk-r-ood 
(the  most  durable  of  all  timber)  which  hnd  been  used  in  th« 
construction,  and  was  still  perfectly  sound,  though  nigh  13CO 
years  old.  Of  this  they  took  a  piece  to  Rornhny,  wkor»  it 
was  examined  by  an  English  gentle-ran,  from  whom  Sii 
William  learned 'the  circumsujire.  This  fact  proves  lh» 
exiitcnir  of  a  commercial  comntunictiion  with  IooU«  by  •«• 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


195 


SECTION  II.— MUSIC. 

IT  in  no  wonder,  if,  in  a  r  nun  try  like  Asia,  addicted 
to  pleasures,  to  luxury,  and  to  voluptuousness,  music, 
which  gives  the  chief  zest  to  such  enjoyments,  was 
in  high  esteem  and  culti\ated  with  great  application. 
The  very  names  of  the  principal  styles  of  ancient 
music,  which  the  modern  has  still  preserved,  namely, 
the  Doric,  Phrygian,  Lydian,  Ionian,  and  yEolian,  suf- 
bcientiv  indicate  the  place  where  it  had  its  origin;  or 
at  Itast,  where  it  wag  improved  and  brought  to  perfec- 
tion. \Ve  learn  Irom  Holj  Scripture,1  that  in  Laban's 
time  instrumental  music  was  much  in  use  in  the  coun- 
try where  he  dwelt,  that  it,  in  Mesopotamia;  since, 
among  the  other  reproaches  he  makes  to  his  son-in- 
law  Jacob,  he  complains,  that,  hy  his  precipitate  flight, 
he  had  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  conduct  him  ana  his 
family  icilh  mirth  and  wilhsoneri,  with  lain  (land  iri/h 
*vrp.  Amongst  (lie  booty  that  Cyrus  ordered  to  be  set 
•part  for  his  uncle  Cyaxares,2  mention  is  made  of  two 
female  musicians,11  very  skilful  in  their  profession,  who 
accompanied  a  lady  of  Susa.and  were  taken  prisoners 
irith  her. 

To  determine  to  what  degree  of  perfection  music 
was  carried  by  the  ancients,  is  a  question  which  very 
much  puzzles  the  learned.  It  is  the  harder  to  be  de"- 
cided,  because  to  determine  justly  upon  it,  it  seems 
necessary  we  should  have  several  pieces  of  music  com- 
posed by  the  ancients,  with  their  notes,  that  we  might 
examine  it  both  with  our  eyes  and  our  ears.  But, 
unhappily,  it  is  not  with  music"  in  this  respect  as  with 
ancient  sculpture  and  poetry,  of  which  we  have  so 
many  noble  monuments  remaining;  whereas,  on  the 
contrary,  we  hnve  not  any  one  piece  of  their  compe- 
tition in  the  other  science,  by  which  we  can  form  a 
certain  judgment,  and  determine  whether  the  music 
ot  the  ancients  was  as  perfect  as  ours. 

It  is  generally  allowed,  that  the  ancients  were  ac- 
quainted with  the  triple  symphony,  that  is,  the  har- 
mony of  voices,  that  of  instruments,  and  that  of  voices 
and  instruments  in  concert. 

It  is  also  agreed,  that  they  excelled  in  what  relate? 
to  the  r/ry//imii*.  What  is  meant  by  rhythmus,  is  the 
assemblage  or  union  of  various  time's  in'music,  which 
Hre  joined  together  with  a  certain  order,  and  in  certain 
proportions.  To  understand  this  definition,  it  is  to  be 
observed,  that  the  music  we  are  here  speaking  of  was 
always  set  and  sung  to  the  words  of  certain  verses, 
in  which  the  syllables  were  distinguished  into  long 
and  short:  that  the  short  syllable  was  pronounced  as 
quick  again  as  the  long;  that  therefore  the  former  was 
reckoned  to  make  up  hut  one  time,  whilst  the  latter 
made  up  two;  and  consequently  the  sound  which  an- 
•wered  to  this,  was  to  continue  twice  as  lone:  as  the 
•ound  which  answered  to  the  other;  or,  which  is  the 
same  thing-,  it  was  to  consist  of  two  times,  or  measures, 
whilst  the  othercomprehended  but  one;  that  the  verses 
which  were  sung  consisted  of  a  certain  number  of  feet 
formed  by  the  different  combination  of  these  long  and 
ihort  syllables:  and  that  the  rhythmus  of  the  song 
regularly  followed  the  march  of  these  feet.  As  these 
feet,  of  what  nature  or  extent  soever,  were  always  di- 
vided into  equal  or  unequal  parts,  of  which  the  former 
was  called  *tf'(,  elevation  or  raising;  and  the  latter 
••«•'«,  depression  or  falling:  so  the  rhythmus  of  the 
•ong,  which  answered  to  every  one  of  those  feet,  was 
divided  into  two  parts  equally  or  unequally,  by  what 
we  now  call  a  heat,  and  a  res't  or  intermission.  The 
scrupulous  regard  the.  ancients  had  to  the  quantity  of 
their  syllables  in  their  vocal  music,  niade  their  rhyth- 
mus much  more  perfect  and  regular  than  ours:  for" our 
poetry  i«  not  formed  upon  the  measure  of  long  and 
•hort  syllables;  but  nevertheless  a  skilful  musician 
amongst  us  may  in  some  sort  express,  by  the  lenffth 
of  their  sounds,  the  quantity  of  every  syllable.  This 
account  of  the  rhythmus  of  the  ancients  I  have  copied 

dor  in  i  the  rei?n  of  that  monarch  from  who*e  name  the  ruin 
bat  rercired  in  present  appellation.  Ii  i«  probable  that  it 
wai  conveyed  t>y  water  up  the  Sliatul-Arah  and  lln-Tigrin  to 
Al-Modoin  or  Cieniphon,  where  Khosru  erected  thif  large 
•lid  mawy  palace.] 

'  Gen.  xxri.  07.  •  Cyrop.  1.  IT.  p.  113. 

«  H.vrtif^t  (  Svt  ri;  «{»Ti'fr«f. 


from  one  of  the  dissertations  of  Monsieur  Burette; 
which  I  have  done  for  the  benefit  of  young  students, 
to  whom  this  little  explanation  may  be  ol  great  use 
for  the  understanding  of  several  passages  in  ancient 
authors.  I  now  return  to  my  subject. 

The  principal  point  ir  dispute  among  the  learned, 
concerning  the  music  of  the  ancients,  is  to  know 
whether  they  undentood  music  in  several  parts,  that 
is,  a  composition  consisting  of  several  parts,  and  in 
which  all  those  different  parts  form  each  by  itself  a 
complete  piece,  and  at  the  same  time  have  a  harmo- 
nious connexion,  as  in  our  counter-point  whether  sim 
pie  or  compounded. 

If  the  reader  be  curious  to  know  more  concerning 
this  matter,  and  whatever  else  relates  to  the  music  ot 
the  ancients,  I  refer  him  to  the  learned  dissertations 
of  the  above-mentioned  M.  Burette,  insetted  in  the 
3d,  4th,  and  5th  volumes  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Belles  Lettrf  s;  which  show  the  profound 
erudition  and  exquisite  taste  oftthat  writer. 

SECTION  III.— PHYSIC. 

WE  likewise  discover  in  those  early  times  the  origin 
of  Physic,  the  beginnings  of  which,  as  of  all  other  arts 
and  sciences,  were  very  rude  and  imperfect.  Herodo- 
tus,4 and  after  him  Strabo,  observe,  that  it  was  a  ge- 
neral custom  among  the  Babylonians  to  expose  their 
sick  persons  to  the  view  of  passengers,  in  order  to 
learn  of  them,  whether  they  had  been  afflicted  with  the 
same  distemper,  and  by  what  remedies  they  had  been 
cured.  F'rom  hence  several  people  have  pretended 
that  physic  is  nothing  else  but  a  conjectural  and  expe- 
rimental science,  entirely  r< suiting  from  observation 
made  upon  the  nature  of  different  diseases,  and  upon 
such  things  as  are  conducive  or  prejudicial  to  health. 
It  must  be  conlessed,  that  experience  will  go  a  great 
way;  but  that  alone  is  not  sufficient.  The  famous 
Hippocrates  made  great  use  of  it  in  hi*  practice,  but 
ht  did  not  entirely  rely  upon  it.  The  custom  in  those 
days  was,*  for  all  persons  that  had  been  sick,  and  were 
cured,  to  put  up  a  tablet  in  the  temple  of  .£sculapius, 
wherein  they  gave  an  account  of  the  remedies  that  had 
restored  them  to  their  health.  That  celebrated  physi- 
cian caused  all  these  inscriptions  and  memorials  to  be 
copied  out,  and  derived  great  advantage  from  them. 

Physic  w«s,  even  in  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war,  in 
great  use  and  esteem.'  JEsculapius,  who  flourished  at 
that  time,  is  reckoned  the  inventor  of  that  ait,  and  had 
even  then  brought  it  to  great  perfection  hy  his  profound 
knowledge  in  botany,  by  his  great  skill  in  medicinal 
preparations  and  chirurgical  operations:  for  in  those 
days  these  several  branches  were  not  separated  from 
one  another,  but  were  all  included  together  under  one 
profession. 

The  two  sons  of  ^sculapius,'  Podalirius  and  Ma- 
chaon,  who  commanded  a  certain  nuirtber  of  troops  at 
the  siege  of  Troy,  were  no  less  excellent  physicians 
than  brave  office're;  and  rendered  as  much  service  to 
the  Grecian  army  by  their  skill  In  medicine,  as  they  did 
bv  their  courage  and  conduct  in  their  military  capa- 
city. Nor  did  Achilles  himself,8  nor  even  Alexander 
the  Great  in  after-times,  think  the  knowledge  of  this 
science  improper  for  a  general,  or  beneath  his  digni- 
ty. On  the  contrary  he  learnt  it  himself  of  Chiron,  the 
centaur,  and  afterwards  instructed  his  friend  Patroclus 
in  it,  who  did  not  disdain  to  exercise  the  art,  in  heal- 
ing the  wound  of  Eurypylus.  This  wound  he  healed 
by  the  application  of  a  certain  root,  which  immedi- 
ately assuaged  the  pain  and  stopped  the  bleeding. 
Botany,  or  that  part  of  physic  which  treats  of  herbs 
and  plants,  was  very  much  known,  and  almost  the 
only  branch  of  the  science  used  in  those  early  times. 
Virgil,  speaking  of  a  celebrated  physician,8  who  was 
instructed  in  his  art  by  Apollo  himself,  seems  to  confine 
that  profession  to  the  knowledge  of  simples:  Scirt 
poleslalt*  kerbarwn  iitumqiie  mtdendi  muluil.  It  was 
nature  her»«-T  that  offered  those  innocent  and  salutary 
remedies,  and  seemed  to  invite  mankind  to  make  uso 


«  HrroH.  I.  i.  e.  197.    Strsb.  I,  x-vi.  p.  746. 
i  Plin   I.  xxix.  e.  I.    Btrah.  1.  »iii.  p.  37<. 

•  Died.  1.  v.  p  341.  '  Horn.  Iliad.  I.  ».  T.  821—817 

•  Plul.  in  Alex.  p.  668.     •  ^En.  I.  xii.  T  396 


196 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


of  them.  Their  gardens,1  fields,  ant)  woods,  supplied 
them  gratuitously  with  an  infinite  plenty  and  variety. 
As  vet  no  use  wss  made  of  minerals,8  treacles,  and 
other  compositions,  since  discovered  by  closer  and 
more  inquisitive  researches  into  nature. 

Pliny  says,3  that  physic  which  had  been  brought  by 
JEsculapius  into  great  reputation  about  the  time  ol  the 
Trojan  war,  was  soon  alter  neglected  and  lost,  and  lay 
in  a  manner  buried  in  darkness  till  the  time  ol"  the 
Pelo|K)iinesian  war,  then  it  was  revived  by  Hippo- 
crates, and  restored  to  its  ancient  honour  and  credit. 
This  mav  be  true  with  respect  to  Greece;  but  in  Persia 
we  find  it  to  have  been  always  cultivated,  and  conse- 
quently held  in  great  reputation.  The  great  Cyrus,4 
•s  is  observed  by  Xenophon  never  failed  to  take  a  cer- 
tain number  of  excellent  physicians  along  with  him  in 
the  annv,  rewarding  them  very  liberally,  ami  treating 
them  with  particular  regard.  He  farther  remarks, 
that  in  this,  Cyrus  only  followed  a  custom  that  had 
been  anciently  established  among  their  generals:  and 
he  also  informs  us  that  the  younger  Cyrus  acted  in 
the  same  manner.* 

It  must  nevertheless  be  acknowledged,  that  it  was 
Hippocrates,  who  carried  this  science  to  its  highest 
perfection.  And  though  it  be  certain  that  several  im- 
provements and  new  discoveries  have  been  made  since 
his  time,  yet  is  he  still  looked  upon  by  the  ablest  phy- 
sicians, as  the  hrst  and  chief  master  of  that  art,  and  as 
the  person  whose  writings  ought  to  be  the  chief  study 
of  those  that  would  distinguish  themselves  in  that 
profession. 

Men  thus  qualified,  who,  to  the  study  of  the  most 
celebrated  physicians,  as  well  ancient  as  modern,  as 
also  to  the  knowledge  they  have  acquired  of  the  vir- 
tues of  simples,  the  principles  of  natural  philosophy, 
and  the  constitution  and  contexture  of  human  bodies, 
have  added  a  long  practice  an:!  experience,  together 
with  their  own  serious  reflections;  such  men  as  these, 
in  a  well-ordered  state,  deserve  to  be  highly  rewarded 
and  distinguished,  as  the  Holy  Spirit  itself" signifies  to 
as  in  the  sacred  writings:  The  skill  of  the  physician 
thall  lift  up  his  head;  and  in  the  sis'kt  of  great  men  he 
thail  be  in  mimirationp  since  all  their  labours,  lucu- 
brations, and  watching*,  are  devoted  to  the  |>eople's 
health,  which  of  all  human  blessings  is  the  dearest 
and  most  valuable.  And  vet  this  blessing  is  what 
mankind  are  the  least  careful  to  preserve.  They  do 
not  only  destroy  it  by  riot  and  excess,  but  through  a 
blind  credulity  they  foolishly  intrust  it  with  persons  of 
no  credit  or  experience,7  who  impose  upon  them  by 
their  impudence  and  presumption,  or  seduce  them  by 
their  flattering  assurances  of  infallible  recovery. 

SECTION  IV.— ASTRONOMY. 
HOWEVER  desirous  the  Grecians  were  to  be  es- 
ttemed  the  authors  and  inventors  of  all  arts  and  sci- 
ences, they  could  never  absolutely  deny  the  Babylo- 
nians the  honour  of  having  laid  the  foundations  of 
astronomy.  The  advantageous  situation  of  Babylon,* 
which  was  built  upon  a  wide  extensive  plain,  where 
no  mountains  bounded  the  prospect;  the  constant 
clearnts«  and  serenity  of  the  air  in  that  country,  so 
favourable  to  the  free  contemplation  of  the  heavens; 
perhaps  also  the  extraordinary  height  of  the  tower  of  | 
Bulit  I.  which  seemed  to  be  intended  for  an  observa- 
tory; all  these  circumstances  were  strong  motives  to 
engage  this  |>«ople  to  a  more  nice  observation  of  the 
various  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  the  regu- 
lar course  of  the  stars.  The  Abbe  Renaudot,'  in  his 
dissertation  upon  the  sphere,  observes,  that  the  plain 


i  Plin.  I.  TTvi.  e.  i.  *  lit.  I.  zziv.  c.  L 

i  I, ill.  xxix.  c.  9. 

«  Cvrnp.  I.  i.  p.  29,  mil  I.  riii.  p.  212. 

•  rteexpcd.  Cyr.  I.  ir.  p.  311. 

•  ErdlH.    XXTVlii.  3. 

'  PalAm  e«l,  in  quisque  inter  isto»  Innuendo  nolleat.  impe- 
raiorcm  illicd  rh«  mwtne  ncciwine  fieri — Adei  blanda  e«t 
•perandi  pro  ne  cnique  dolcedo.  Plin.  I.  xxix.  e.  1. 

•  Principle   Acsyrii    proptor  (ilnnitiem   magnitudinemque 
repionuni  qum  iiirolcliant.  riimrrelom  ex  orr--i  |iarle  patens 
et  »|>prtum  intuereniur  trajertiorip*  motu«que  ittllarum  ob- 
PTvaifrunl.     Cie   lib.  i.  de  Dirii.  n.  2. 

•  Memoir*  of  the  Academy  del  lid  lie*  Lettrei,  v.  1.  part 
. 


which  in  Scripture  is  called  Shinar,  and  in  which 
Babylon  stood,  is  the  same  as  is  called  by  the  Arabi- 
ans £injar,  where  the  caliph  Almnmon,  the  seventh  ol 
the  Habbassides,  in  whose  reign  the  sciences  began  to 
flourish  among  the  Arabians,  caused  the  astronomical 
observations  to  be  made,  which  lor  several  ages  direct- 
ed all  the  astronomers  of  Kurope;  and  that  the  sultan 
Gelaleddin  .Melikschah,  the  third  of  the  St-ljukitles, 
caused  similar  observations  to  be  made  near  3UO  yean 
afterwards  in  the  same  place:  from  whence  it  appears 
that  this  place  was  alwavs  reckoned  one  of  the  pro- 
perest  in  the  world  lor  astronomical  observations. 

The  ancient  Babylonians  could  not  have  carried 
theirs  to  any  great  perfection  for  want  of  the  help  of 
telescopes,  which  are  of  modern  invention,  and  have 
greatly  contributed  of  late  years  to  render  our  astro- 
nomical researches  more  perfect  and  exact.  What- 
ever they  were,  they  have  not  come  down  to  us.  Kpi- 
genes,  asraveand  credible  author,  according  to  Pliny, 
apeaks  of  observations  made  for  the  space  cf  720 
years,10  and  imprinted  upon  squares  of  brick;  which, 
if  it  be  true,  must  reach  back  to  a  very  early  antiqui- 
ty. Those  of  which  Callisthenes,"  a  philosopher  in 
Alexander's  train,  makes  mention,  and  of  which  he 
gave  Aristotle  an  account,  include  1903 years,  and  con- 
sequently must  commence  very  near  the  delude,  and 
the  time  of  JVimrod's  building  the  city  of  Babylon. 

\Ve  are  certainly  under  great  obligations,  which  we 
ought  to  acknowledge,  to  the  labours  and  curious  in- 
quiries of  those  who  have  contributed  to  the  discovery 
or  improvement  of  so  useful  a  science;  a  science,  not 
only  of  great  service  to  agriculture  and  navigation,  by 
the  knowledge  it  gives  us  of  the  regular  course  of  the 
stars,  and  of  the  wonderful,  constant,  and  uniform  pro- 
portion of  days,  months,  seasons,  and  years,  but  even 
to  religion  itself;  with  which,  as  Plato  shows,"  the 
study  of  that  science  has  a  very  close  and  necessary 
connexion;  as  it  directly  tends  to  inspire  us  with  great 
reverence  for  the  Deity,  who,  with  infinite  wisdom, 
presides  over  the  government  of  the  universe,  and  il 
present  and  attentive  to  ail  our  actions.  But  at  the 
same  time  we  cannot  sufficiently  deplore  the  misfor- 
tune of  those  very  philosophers,  who  although  by  their 
successful  application  and  astronomical  inquiries,1* 
they  came  very  near  the  Creator,  were  yet  so  ur^ap- 
py  as  not  to  find  him,  because  they  did  not  serve  and 
adore  him  as  they  ought  to  do,  nor  govern  their  actions 
by  the  rules  and  directions  of  that  divine  model. 

SKCTION    V.— JUDICIAL  ASTROI,CGY. 

As  to  the  Babylonian  and  other  Eastern  philoso- 
phers, the  study  of  the  heavenly  bodies  was  so  far  from 
leading  them,  as  it  ought  to  have  done  to  the  know- 
ledge of  Him  who  is  both  their  Creatorand  Ruler,  that 
for  the  most  part  it  carried  them  into  impiety,  and  the 
extravagances  of  judicial  astrolosry.  So  we  term  that 
deceitful  and  presumptuous  science, which  teaches  to 
judge  of  things  to  come  by  the  knowledge  of  the  stars, 
and  to  foretell  events  by  the  situation  of  the  planets, 
and  by  their  different  aspects;  a  science  justly  looked 
upon  as  madness  and  follv  by  all  the  most  sensible 
writers  amonj  the  pagans  themselves.  O  Jeliration. 
r.m  incredihilem!  crie?  Cicero,14  in  refuting  the  extra- 
vagant opinions  of  those  astrologers,  frequently  called 
Chaldeans,  from  the  country  that  first  gave  rise  to 
this  science;  who,  in  consequence  of  the  observations 
made,  as  they  affirmed,  by  their  predecessors  upon  all 
past  events,  for  the  space  onlv  of  470,000  years,  pre- 
tended to  know  assuredly,  by  the  aspect  anil  combina- 
tion of  the  stars  and  planets  at  the  instant  of  a  child's 
birth,  what  would  be  his  genius,  temper,  manners,  the 
constitution  of  his  body,  his  actions,  and  in  a  word,  all 
the  events  and  the  duration  of  his  life.  He  exposes 
a  thousand  absurdities  of  this  opinion,  the  very  ridi- 
culousness of  which  should  excite  contempt;  and 

••  Plin.  hift.  nat.  1.  »ii.  r.  36. 

»  Porphrr.  apud  Simplic.  in.  I.  ii.  de  ccelo. 

«»  In  Epinom.  p.  9«>— 'J02. 

>»  Maffiia  induiirfa.  mairna  mlertia  ;  fed  ibi  Creatorm 
•crutali  tunt  posit  am  r.in  lunjrfc  A  se,  et  non  invenemnt— • 
quia  quierere  neglcxerunt.  dufust.  dt  trrb.  £r«».  Mfttl 
Serm.  lx»iii.  r.  1. 

««  Lib.  ii.  da  Di».  n.  87.  99. 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


197 


asks,  why  ot  all  that  vast  number  of  children  that  are 
born  in  the  same  moment,  and  without  doubt  exactly 
under  the  a  .pert  of  the  same  stars,  there  are  not  two 
whose  lives  and  fortunes  resemble  each  other?  He 
puts  this  far  her  question,  whether  that  great  number 
ofnx-n  that  perished  at  the  battle  of  Cannae,  and  died 
of  one  and  ilie  same  death,  were  all  born  under  the 
same  conste'  lations? 

It  is  hard  I/  credible,  that  so  absurd  an  art,  founded 
entirely  upo  i  fraud  and  iniposture,y»-at«f»/en/t*»ima 
artitim,  as  P  iny  rails  it,1  should  ever  acquire  so  much 
crec.'it  as  th'u  has  done,  throughout  the  whole  world 
and  in  sll  a)  es.  What  has  supported  and  brought 
it  into  no  gr<  at  vogue,  continues  that  author,  is  the 
natural  curiosity  men  have  to  penetrate  into  futurity, 
•  nd  to  1'nov  beforehand  the  things  that  are  to  he  fa  I 
them:  AVi'o  non  avidoftihira  de  se  sciendi;  attended 
with  a  stiptistitious  credulity,  which  finds  itselfagree- 
ably  flattered  by  the  pleasing:  and  magnificent  promi- 
ses of  which  *hOM  fortune-tellers  are  never  sparing-. 
Itu  blandisti\»t  desidtratissimisqiie  promissis  addi- 
dit  vires  reli^  ionis,  ad  qiias  maximt  etiamnum  cali- 
gat  Immanvm  g-fni/j. 

Modern  wi  iters,*  and  among  others  two  of  our 
greatest  philotophers.  Gassendi  and  Rohault,  have 
inveighed  against  the  folly  of  that  pretended  science 
with  the  same  energy,  and  have  demonstrated  it  to  be 
equally  void  of  principles  and  experience. 

As  for  its  principles.  The  heaven,  according  to 
the  system  of  astrologers,  is  divided  into  twelve  eqw  I 
parts;  which  parts  are  taken  not  according  to  the 
poles  of  the  world,  but  according  to  those  of  the  10- 
diac.  The»e  twelve  parts  or  portions  of  heaven,  have 
each  of  them  its  attribute,  as  riches,  knowledge,  pa- 
rentage, and  so  of  the  rest:  the  most  important  and 
decisive  portion  is  that  which  is  next  under  the  hori- 
con,  and  which  is  called  the  ascendant,  because  it  is 
ready  to  ascend  and  appear  above  the  horizon,  when  a 
nian  comes  into  the  world.  The  planets  are  divided 
into  the  propitious,  the  malignant,  and  the  mixed  :  the 
aspects  of  these  planets,  which  are  only  certain  dis- 
tances from  one  another,  are  likewise  either  happy  or 
unhappy.  I  say  nothing  of  several  other  hypotheses, 
which  are  all  equally  fanciful;  and  I  ask,  whether  any 
man  of  common  sense  can  accede  to  them  upon  the 
bare  word  of  these  impostors,  without  any  proofs,  or 
even  without  the  least  shadow  of  probability '  The 
critical  moment,  and  that  on  which  all  their  predic- 
tions depend,  is  that  of  the  birth.  And  why  not  as 
well  the  moment  of  conception?  Why  have  the  stars 
no  influence  during  the  nine  months  r>f  pregnancy?  Or 
is  it  possible,  considering  the  incredible  rapidity  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  always  to  be  sure  of  hitting  the  pre- 
cise, determinate  moment,  without  the  least  variation 
of  more  or  less,  which  is  sufficient  to  overthrow  all? 
A  thousand  other  objections  of  the  same  kind  might 
be  made,  which  are  altogether  unanswerable. 

As  for  experience,  they  have  still  less  reason  to  flat- 
ter themselves  with  having  that  on  their  side.  This 
can  only  consist  in  observations  founded  upon  events 
that  have  always  come  to  pass  in  the  same  manner, 
whenever  the  planets  were  found  in  the  same  situa- 
tion. Now  it  is  unanimously  agreed  bv  all  astrono- 
mers, that  several  thousands  of  years  must  pass,  before 
any  such  situation  of  the  stars  as  thev  would  imagine, 
car:  twice  happen:  and  it  is  very  certain,  that  the 
state  iu  which  the  heavens  will  be  to-morrow,  has 
never  yet  been  since  the  creation  of  the  world.  The 
reader  may  consult  Oie  two  philosophers  above-men- 
tioned, particularly  Gassendi,  who  has  more  copiously 
treated  this  subject.  Rut  such,  and  no  better,  are  the 
foundations  upon  which  the  whole  structure  of  judicial 
astrology  is  built. 

But  what  is  astonishing,  and  argues  an  absolute 
.subversion  of  all  reason  is,  that  certain  free-thinkers, 
ivho  obstinately  harden  themselves  against  the  most 
convincing  proofsof  religion,  and  who  refuse  to  believe 
even  the  clearest  and  most  certain  prophecies  upon 
the  word  of  God,  do  sometimes  give  entire  credit  to 
the  vain  pref  I'A  >ns  of  these  astrologers  and  impostors 


St.  Austin,  in  several  passages  of  his  writings,  in- 
forms us  that  th'w  stupid  and  sacrilegious  credulity  it 
a  just  chastisement  from  God,3  who  frequently  pun- 
ishfcth  the  voluntary  blindness  of  men,  by  inflicting  • 
still  greater  blindness;  and  who  sutler  evil  spirits, 
that  they  may  keep  their  servants  still  faster  in  their 
nets,  sometimes  to  foretell  things  which  do  really  come 
to  pass,  but  of  which  the  expectation  very  ofttn  serve* 
only  to  torment  them. 

God,  who  alone  foresees  future  contingencies  and 
events,  because  he  alone  is  the  sovereign  disposer  and 
director  of  then),  does  often  in  Scripture4  laugh  to 
scorn  the  ignorance  of  the  fo-much-boasted  Babylo- 
nish astrologers,  calling  them  forgers  of  lies  and  false- 
hoods. He  moreover  defies  all  their  false  gods  to  fore- 
tell any  thing  whatsoever,  and  consents  if  they  do,  that 
they  should  be  worshipped  as  gods.  Then  addressing 
himself  to  the  city  of  Babylon,  he  particularly  declare* 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  miseries  with  which  she 
shall  be  overwhelmed  above  200 years  after  that  pre- 
diction: while  none  of  her  prognosticates,  who  had 
flattered  her  with  the  assurances  of  her  |>erpetual  gran- 
deur, which  they  pretended  to  have  read  in  the  stars, 
should  be  able  to  avert  the  judgment,  or  even  to  fore- 
see the  time  of  its  accomplishment.  Indeed,  how 
should  they?  since  at  the  very  time  of  its  execution, 
when  Belshaizar,*  the  last  king  of  Baby  Ion,  saw  a  hand 
come  out  of  the  wall  and  write  unknown  character* 
thereon,  the  Magi,  the  Chaldeans,  the  soothsayers, 
and,  in  a  word,  all  the  pretended  sages  in  the  country, 
were  not  able  so  much  as  to  read  the  writing.  Here 
then  we  see  astrology  and  magic  convicted  of  ignorance 
and  impotence,  in  the  very  place  where  they  were  most 
in  vogue,  and  on  an  occasion  when  it  was  certainly 
their  interest  to  display  all  their  science  and  power. 

ARTICLE  IV. 

RELIGION. 

The  most  ancient  and  gener;.!  idolatry  in  the  world, 
was  that  wherein  the  sun  and  moon  were  the  objects 
of  divine  worship.  This  idolatry  was  founded  upon  a 
mistaken  gratitude;  which,  instead  of  ascending  up  to 
the  Deity,  stopped  short  at  the  veil  which  concealed 
him,  while  it  indicated  his  existence.  With  the  least 
reflection  or  penetration  they  might  have  discerned  the 
Sovereign  who  commanded",  from  the  minister6  who 
did  but  obey. 

In  all  ages  mankind  have  been  sensibly  convinced 
of  the  necessity  of  an  intercourse  between  God  and 
man:  and  adoration  supposes  God  to  he  both  atten- 
tive to  man's  desires  and  capable  of  fulfilling  them. 
But  the  distance  of  the  sun  and  of  the  moon  is  an  ob- 
stacle to  this  intercourse.  Therefore  foolish  men  en- 
deavoured to  remedy  this  inconvenience,  by  laying 
their  hands  upon  theirmouths,7  and  then  lifting  them 
up  to  those  false  gods,  in  order  to  testify  that  they 
would  be  glad  to  unite  themselves  to  them,  but  that 
they  could  not.  This  was  that  impious  custom  so  pre- 
valent throughout  all  the  east,  from  which  Job  esteem- 
ed himself  happy  to  have  been  preserved:  When  I 


Plin.  Procuri.  lib.  xxx 

Gauendi  Phvs  sect,  ii.  i  0.  Rohault  Phyi.  par.  ii.  ch,  27. 


*  His  omnihun  ronsiilcrntis.  non  immerit6   creditor,  ctlm 
aiftrolofi  niirahiliter  mulia  vera  respondent   occullo  Justine- 
tu  fieri  Rpirituum  non  Ixmorum,  quorum  rura  cst   has  falsas 
et  noxias  npininncs  de  nsi  rnlilm*  frit  is  inserere  humrtnis  nicn- 
libui"  Htque  firmare,   non  hororcnpi   not  at  i  et  inspect!  aliquA 
arte,  rjuir  nulla  est.     f)e  Cir.  Dei   I.  v.  c.  7. 

«  Therefore  Khali  evil  come  U|x>n  ihee.  thou  shall  not  know 
from  whence  it  riseth  :  and  mischief  shall  full  IIIHIII  thre.  thou 
•halt  not  be  ahli<  to  put  it  ofT:  and  desolation  shall  come  up- 
on thee  suddenly,  which  ihou  shall  not  know.  Siand  now 
with  thine  enchantments  ami  with  the  multitude  of  ihy  »ir- 
cerien,  wherein  thou  hast  Inbound  from  Ihy  youth;  tfnolifl 
thuu  fhnli  he  able,  to  profit,  if  HI  tie  ihou  mavest  prevail. 
Thon  art  wearied  in  the  multitude  of  Ihy  counsels.  Lei  now 
the  astrologer*,  the  star-razors,  (he  proenoslicalorn,  stand 
up,  and  Kavo  thee  from  these  things  that  shall  come  U|wrj 
thre.  IVIiold.  they  shall  be  OK  stubble :  the.  fire  shall  hum 
them  :  they  shall  not  deliver  themselves  from  the  power  of 
the  flame.  Ixa.  xlvii.  11 — 14.  •  Dan.  "• 

•  Amonj  the  Hebrews,  the  ordinary  name  for  ilie  sun  <if 
nificn  minifltr. 

'  Svptntiliosv*  rvl(ftit  unitum  ori  adnovrni,  osmium 
laNit  presfit.     Mimic,  p    2      From  thence  is  com*  the  worj 
aJermrt;  that  a  to  say,  ad  as  manatn  admoccrt. 
R2 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


beheld  the  tun  when  it  thine J,  or  the  moon  walking  in 
brightness:  my  heart  hath  not  been  tecretly  enticed. 
nor  my  month  kixsed  my  hand.* 

The  Persians  adored  the  sun,*  and  particularly  the 
rising  sun,  with  the  profoundert  veneration.  To  him 
they  dedicated  a  magnificent  chariot,  with  horses  of 
the  greatest  beauty  and  value,  as  we  have  seen  in  Cy- 
rus's stately  cavalcade.  (This  tame  ceremony  was 
practised  by  the  Babylonians;  from  whom  some  im- 
pious kings  of  Judah  borrowed  it,3  and  brought  it  into 
Palestine.)  Sometimes  they  likewise  sacrificed  oxen 
to  thi*  god,  who  was  very  much  known  amongst  them 
by  the  name  of  .Mithra. 

By  a  natural  consequence  of  the  worship  they  paid 
to  the  snn,  they  likewise  paid  a  particular  veneration 
to  fire,4  always  invoked  it  first  In  their  sacrifices,* 
carried  it  with  great  respect  befor*  the  king  in  all  his 
marches;  intrusted  the  keeping  of  their  sacred  fire, 
which  came  down  from  heaven,  as  they  pretended,  to 
none  but  the  Magi;  and  would  have  looked  upon  it 
as  the  greatest  of  misfortunes,  if  it  had  been  suffered 
to  go  out.  History  inform*  us,*  that  the  emperor  He- 
radius,  when  he  was  at  war  with  the  Persians,  de- 
molished several  of  their  temples,  and  particularly 
the  chapel  in  which  the  sacred  fire  had  been  preserved 
until  that  time,  which  occasioned  great  mourning  and 
lamentation  throughout  the  whole  country.  The 
Persians  likewise  honoured  the  water,7  the  earth,  and 
the  winds,  as  so  many  deities. 

The  cruel  ceremony  of  making  children  pass  through 
the  fire,  was  undoubtedly  a  consequence  of  the  wor- 
ship paid  to  that  element:  for  this  fire-worship  was 
common  to  the  Babylonians  and  Persians.  The  Scrip- 
ture positively  says  of  the  people  of  Mesopotamia,  who 
were  sent  as  a  colony  into  the  country  of  the  Sama- 
ritans, that  they  caused  their  children  to  post  through 
thejire.  It  is  well  known  how  common  this  barbar- 
ous custom  became  in  many  provinces  of  Asia. 

Besides  these,*  the  Persians  had  two  gods  of  a  very 
different  nature,  namely,  Oromasdes  and  Arimanius. 
The  former  they  looked  upon  as  the  author  of  all  the 
blt-SMii^s  and  good  things  that  happened  to  them:  and 
the  latter  as  the  authorof  all  the  evils  wherewith  they 
were  afflicted.  I  shall  give  a  fuller  account  of  these 
deities  hereafter. 

The  Persians  erected  neither  statues,  nor  temples, 
por  altars,  to  their  gods;'  but  offered  their  sacrifices 
iu  the  open  air,  and  generally  on  the  tops  of  hills,  or 
on  high  places.  It  was  in  the  open  fields  that  Cyrus 
acquitted  himself  of  that  religious  duty,10  when  he 
made  the  pompous  and  solemn  procession  already 
spoken  of.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  through  the 
advice  and  instigation  of  the  Magi,!'  that  Xerxes,  the 
Persian  king,  burnt  all  the  Grecian  temples,  esteem- 
ing it  injurious  to  the  majesty  of  the  Deity  to  shut  him 
D|)  within  walls,  to  whom  all  things  are  open,  an''  to 
whom  the  whole  world  should  be  reckoned  as  a  house 
or  a  temple. 

Cicero  thinks,12  that  in  this  the  Greeks  and  Romans 
•'•ted  more  wisely  than  the  Persians,  in  thit  '.*\'  v  .'  recr- 
ed  temples  to  their  gods  within  their  cities,  ar»1  there- 
_ned  them  a  residence  in  common  with  them- 
selves, which  was  well  calculated  to  inspire  the  peo- 
gle  with  sentimeiits  of  religion  and  piety.  Varro  was 
not  of  the  sime  opinion  {St.  Austin  has  preserved  thai 
pasnge  of  his  works:)  u  After  having  observed,  that 
Ihe  Romans  had  worshipped  their  gods  without  sta- 
tues for  above  170 years,  he  adds,  that  if  they  had  still 
preserved  their  ancient  custom,  their  religion  would 

i  The  text  ii  in  the  form  of  in  oath.  If  I  bchcM,  ie.  Jot, 
Mxi.  C6.  «7.  »  Herod.  I  i.  c.  131. 

•  -2  Kiii-n,  XTiii.  11.     Slrah.  I.  xv.  p  732.          •  Thirt. 

•  Xfimph.  fvrop  I.  viii.  p.  215.     Am.  Mar  1.  xxiii. 

•  7(vmr.  Annul,  vol.  ii.  i  Hero<l.  1.  i.  c.  131. 

•  Pint   in  I  h   de  !«ld.  et  Oiirid   p  3fiO. 

•  Herod   I    i.  c.  '31.  «•  Cyrop.  1   yiii.  p.  233. 

u  Anrti>riho«  Ma™i«  Xrrxo*  inflammiiout  tt-mpla  Orirriir 
Jieitor,  quAil  pnrietibni  inrluderent  HPOO.  luili'U  nmnia  de- 
bert  nt  t-tti-  patent ia  »<•  lihern,  quorumon*  lirr  munduD  omnis 
tcmplum  p*spt  ft  d»mu«.  Cic.  I.  ii  de  Ltfib. 

'*  M"lifi<  Cr.Tci  alqije  iiostri,  i\ui  ul  aii?<Tont  piclatcm 
in  deo».  enxdrni  ill'>«  urh»«,  nun*  no».  inm|i>re  vnluerunt. 
Adfcrt  enim  h .w  npinin  rrlipinnem  ulilern  civitalibui.  Ib. 

"  Lib.  IT  u*  Civ.  DIM,  u.  31. 


have  been  the  purer  and  freer  from  cornipti.-n: 
ti  adhvc  mansisset,  castitis  dii  observarenl-trj  and 
he  strengthens  his  opinion  by  the  example  of  the 
Jewish  nation. 

The  laws  of  Persia  suffered  no  man  to  confine  th* 
motive  of  his  sacrifices  to  any  private  or  domestic  in- 
terest. This  was  a  line  way  ot'  attaching  ml  private 
individuals  to  the  public  good,  by  teaching  thtm  that 
they  ought  never  to  sacrifice  for  themselves  alone,  but 
for  the  king  and  the  whole  state,  wherein  every  man 
was  comprehended  with  the  rest  of  his  fellow-citizens. 

The  Magi,  in  Persia,  were  «he  guardians  of  ali  the 
ceremonies  relating  to  divine  worship;  and  it  was  to 
them  the  people  had  recourse,  in  order  to  be  instructed 
therein,  and  to  know  on  what  day,  to  what  gods,  and 
after  what  manner,  they  were  to  "offer  their  sacrifices. 
As  these  Magi  were  all  of  one  tribe,  and  as  none  but 
the  son  of  a  priest  could  pretend  to  the  honour  of  the 
priesthood,  they  kept  all  their  learning  and  knowledge, 
whether  in  religious  or  political  concerns,  to  them- 
selves and  their  families;  nor  was  it  lawful  for  them 
to  instruct  any  stranger  in  thes<  matters,  without  the 
king's  permission.  It  was  granted  in  favour  ol  The- 
mistocles,1*  and  was,  according  to  Plutarch,  a  partic- 
ular effect  of  the  prince's  great  consideration  for  him. 

This  knowledge  and  skill  in  religious  matters  which 
made  Plato  define  magic,  or  the  learning  of  the  Magi, 
the  art  of  worshipping  the  gods  in  a  becoming  manner, 
ii&r  5if »»•».'»»,  gave  the  Magi  great  authority  both 
with  the  prince  and  people,  who  could  offer  no  sacri- 
fice without  their  presence  and  ministration. 

It  was  even  requisite  that  the  king.15  before  he  came 
to  the  crown,  should  have  received  instruction  for  a 
certain  time  from  some  of  the  Magi,  and  hsve  learned 
of  them  both  the  art  of  reigning,  and  that  cf  worship- 
ping the  gods  after  a  proper  manner.  Nor  did  he  de- 
termine any  important  affair  of  the  state,  when  he  was 
upon  the  throne,  without  first  consulting  them;  for 
which  reason  Pliny  says,16  that  even  in  his  time  they 
were  looked  upon"  in  all  the  F.astern  countries  as  the 
masters  and  directors  of  princes,  and  of  those  who 
styled  themselves  the  kings  of  kings. 

They  were  the  sages,  the  philosophers,  and  men  of 
learning,  in  Persia;  as  the  Gymnosophists  and  Brach- 
man«  were  amongst  the  Indians, and  the  Druidsamong 
the  Gauls.  Their  great  reputation  made  people  come 
from  the  most  distant  countries  to  be  instructed  by 
them  in  philosophy  and  religion;  and  we  are  assured 
it  was  from  them  that  Pythagoras  borrowed  the  prin- 
ciples of  that  doctrine,  by  which  he  acquired  so  much 
veneration  and  respect  among  the  Greeks,  excepting 
only  the  tenet  of  transmigration,  which  he  learned  of 
the  Egyptian", and  by  which  he  corrupted  and  debased 
the  ancient  doctrine  of  the  Magi  concerning  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul. 

It  i?  generally  agreed,  that  Zoroaster  was  the  origi- 
nal author  and  'founder  of  this  sect;  but  authors  ar« 
considerably  divided  in  their  opinions  about  the  time 
in  which  he"  lived.  What  Pliny  says  upon  thi«  head 
may  reasonably  serve  to  reconcile  that  variety  of  opin- 
ions,17 as  is  very  judiciously  observed  by  Dr.  Prideaux. 
We  read  in  that  author  that  there  we're  two  personj 
named  Zoroaster,  be'ween  whose  lives  there  might 
be  the  distance  of  600  years.  The  first  of  them  was 
the  foim'Vr  of  the  Mngian  sect,  about  the  j  ear  of  the 
world  2900;  and  the  latter,  who  certainly  flourished 
between  the  beginning1  of  Cyrus's  reign  in  the  Enst 
and  the  end  of  Darius'",  son  of  Hystaspes,  was  the 
re«torer  and  reformer  of  it. 

Throughout  all  the  Eastern  countries,  idolfitry  wai 
divided  into  two  principal  sects;  that  of  the  Sabians. 
who  adored  imns-es:  and  that  of  the  Magi,  who  wor- 
shipped fire.  The  former  of  these  sects  had  it«  rise 
among  the  Chaldeans,  who,  from  their  knowledge  of 
astronomy,  and  their  particular  application  to  th<;  stu- 


n  In  Them.  p.  12fi. 

'•  Ncr  f|ui»f)unm  rex  K.vaaroin  potest  fate,  qni  non  antf 
Mnjnrum  disriplinam  acifitiamque  perceporit.  Cic.  it 
Diri*.  I.  i.  n.Ol. 

'•  In  tniitum  fnstijii  adnlev'.t  fauctorita*  Masnrum)  nt 
hndirque  etiam  in  mn:>nn  parte  t'ntiuro  picvttleat,  at  ta 
orient?  return  rosritins  imperil.  Ph*  I  xiX.  c.  L 

«'  Hiit.  Nat.  I.  xix.  c.  1. 


'  MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


199 


Ay  of  tht  strtn  planets,  Wi  :h  they  believed  to  be  in- 
bablted  by  as  many  intekto^ences,  who  were  to  those 
»rbs,  what  the  soul  of  man  is  to  his  body,  were  indu- 
ced to  represent  Saturn,  Jupiter,  Mars.  Apollo,  Mer- 
curv,  Venus,  and  Diana,  or  the  Moon,  by  so  many 
images,  or  statues,  in  which  they  imagined  those  pre- 
tended intelligences,  or  deities,  were  as  really  prcsi  nt 
*s  in  the  planets  themselves.  In  time,  the  number  of 
their  gods  considerably  increased:  this  image-wor- 
ihip  iron)  Chuldea  spread  itself  throughout  all  the 
East/  from  thence  parsed  into  Egypt;  and  at  length 
came  among  the  Greeks,  who  propagated  it  through 
til  the  western  nations. 

To  this  sect  of  the  Snbiar.s  was  diametrically  oppo- 
•iie  that  of  the  Magi,  which  also  took  its  rise  in  the 
«ame  Eastern  countries.  As  the  Magi  held  images  in 
liter  abhorrence,  they  worshipped  God  only  underthe 
orni  of  fire;  looking  upon  that,  on  account  of  its  pu- 
ity,  brightness,  activity,  subtilty,  fecundity,  and  in- 
•-orruptibility,  as  the  most  perfect  symbol  of  the  Deity. 
They  began  first  in  Persia,  and  there  and  in  India 
vere  the  only  places  where  this  sect  was  propagated, 
ind  where  they  have  remained  even  to  this  day.1  Their 
thief  doctrine  wns,  that  there  were  two  principles; 
me  the  cause  of  all  good,  and  the  other  the  cause  of  all 
tvil.  The  former  is  represented  by  light,  and  the  other 
by  darkness,  as  their  truest  symbol*.  The  good  god 
ifity  named  Yazdan  and  Ormuzd,  ana  the  evil  gjd 
Ahraman.  The  former  is  by  the  Greeks-  called  Oro- 
iiasdes,  and  the  latter  Arimanius.  And  therefore2 
when  Xerxes  prayed  that  his  enemies  might  always 
esolve  to  banish  "their  best  and  bravest  citizens,  as  the 
Athenians  had  Themistocles,  he  addressed  his  prayer 
<o  Arimanius,  the  evil  god  of  the  Persians,  and  not  to 
Oromasdes,  their  good  god. 

Concerning  these  two  gods,  they  had  this  differ- 
ence of  opinion;  that  whereas  some  held  both  of  them 
to  have  been  from  all  eternity;  others  contended  that 
the  good  god  only  was  eternal,  and  the  other  was 
created.  But  they  both  agreed  in  this,  that  there  will 
be  a  continual  opposition  between  these  two,  tilt  the 
end  of  the  world ;  that  then  the  good  god  shall  over- 
come the  evil  god,  and  that  from  thenceforward  each 
of  them  shall  have  his  peculiar  world;  that  is,  the 
pood  god,  his  world  with  all  the  good;  and  the  evil 
g."<1,  his  world,  with  all  the  wicked. 

The  second  Zoroaster,  who  lived  in  the  time  of 
Darius,  undertook  to  reform  some  articles  in  the  reli- 
gion of  the  Mascian  sect,  which  for  several  ages  had 
Been  the  predominant  religion  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians; but  which,  since  the  death  of  Smerdis  who 
usurped  the  throne,  and  his  chief  confederates,  and 
the  ma«sacre  of  their  adherents  and  followers,  had 
fallen  into  great  contempt.  It  is  thought  this  reform- 
er inaHe  his  first  appearance  in  Ecbatana. 

The  chief  reformation  he  made  in  the  Magian  reli- 
gion was,  that  whereas  before  they  had  held  as  a  fun- 
damental tenet  the  existence  of  two  supreme  princi- 
ple: t!.e  first  light,  which  was  the  author  of  all  good; 
and  the  other  darkness,  the  author  of  all  evil;  and 
that  of  the  mixture  of  these  two,  as  they  were  in  a 
Continual  struggle!  with  each  other,  all  things  were 
made;  he  introduced  a  principle  superior  to  them 
both  one  supreme  God,  who  created  both  light  and 
darkness;  and  who  out  of  these  two  principles,  made 
all  other  thii'gs  according  to  his  own  will  and  pleasure. 

But,  to  avoid  making  God  the  author  of  evil,  his 
doctrine  wa«,  that  there  was  one  supreme  Being, 
inde|>eivlent  and  self-existing  from  alt  eternity:  that 
under  him  there  were  two  angels;  one  the  angel  of 
light,  who  is  the  author  of  all  good ;  and  the  other  the 


t  [Amone  the  ancipnt  Masi  were  three  degrees  of  prienti, 
•rdinary  |iri»>»i8.  overseers  of  then?,  and  an  archimncui",  cr 
bend  of  tlu>  Masi,  who  wan  held  to  be  mirceffor  of  Xoroa«- 
*r,  and  is  termed  the  supreme  Pontiff  of  the  Maeiau  faith. 
Thr»o  ir  tl»>  Prhlrvi  language  or  old  Prman,  were  »tv|p.i 
Magli,  i.  e  Mantis  ;  Mnlmd  nuperintenilant,  and  Muhad  Mu- 
bnH.i'i  or  hii'h  prifdt.  Hyde.  Relit?.  Vi>t.  Peru.  chap,  xxriii. 
f.  34  •.  Kurd,  in  hi*  arrount  of  the  Parnee  religion,  calli 
them  liy  the  names  of  Duroo*,  Hrrboods.  and  Dixleroo*.  In 
•lore-  modern  lime*,  the  pricsuof  the  Parsees  at  Bombay  and 
flurat.  rtr  •  railed  Desatirf.! 

•  Plut.  in  Tliemiit.  p.  126. 


angel  of  darkness,  who  is  the  author  of  all  ev  that 
these  two,  out  of  the  mixture  of  light  and  darkness, 
made  all  things  that  are:  that  they  ate  in  a  perpetual 
struggle  with  each  other;  and  that  where  the  angel  of 
light  prevails,  there  good  reigns:  and  tliut  where  tlie 
angel  of  darkness  prevails,  there  evil  tak<K  place:  that 
this  struggle  shall  continue  to  the  end  of  the  world- 
that  then  there  shall  be  a  general  resurrection  and  a 
day  of  judgment,  wherein  all  shall  receive  a  just  r«  tri- 
bution  according  to  their  works ;  aftc  r  which  the  aagel 
of  darkness  and  his  disfiples  shall  go  into  a  world  of 
their  own,  where  they  shall  sutler  in  everlasting  dark- 
ness the  punishment  of  their  evil  deeds:  and  the  angel 
of  light  and  his  disciples  shall  also  go  into  a  worl<l  of 
theirown,  where  they  shall  receive  in  everlasting  light 
the  reward  due  unto  their  good  deeds;  that  alter  this 
tlit  v  si, nil  remain  separate  for  ever,  and  light  aid 
darkness  be  no  more  mixed  together  to  all  tternitv. 
And  all  this  the  remainder  of  that  set  t,  which  still 
subsist  in  Persia  nnd  India,  do,  without  any  variation 
alter  so  manv  ages,  still  hold  even  to  this  day. 

It  is  needless  to  inform  the  reader,  ti.at  almost  all 
these  tenets,  though  altered  in  many  circumstance?, 
do  in  general  agree  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures;  with  which  it  plainly  appears  the  two 
Zoroasters  were  well  acquainted,  it  b<  ing  easy  fol 
both  of  them  to  have  had  an  intercourse  or  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  people  of  God:  the  first  of 
them  in  Syria,  where  the  Israelites  had  been  long  set- 
tled; the  latter  at  Babylon,  to  which  place  the  same 
people  were  carried  captive,  and  where  Zoroaster 
might  have  converse  with  Daniel  himself,  who  was  in 
very  great  power  and  credit  in  the  Persian  court. 

Another  reformation,  made  by  Zoroaster  in  the  an- 
cient Magian  nligton,  was,  that  he  caused  tempi*  s  to 
be  built,  wherein  their  sacred  fire  was  carefully  and 
constantly  preserved;  which  he  prt  tended  hims<  Ifto 
have  brought  down  from  heaven.  Over  this  the  priests 
kept  a  perpetual  watch  night  and  day,  to  prevent  its 
being  extinguished. 

Whatever  relates  to  the  sect  or  religion  of  the  Ma- 
gians,  the  reader  will  find  very  largely  and  learnedly 
treated  in  Dean  Prideaux's  Connexion  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testament,  &c.  from  whence  I  have  taken  only 
a  short  extract. 

Their  Marriage*  and  the  Manner  of  Bvrying  the 
Dead. 

Having  said  so  much  of  the  religion  of  the  Eastern 
nations,  which  is  an  article  I  thought  myself  obli  ed 
to  enlarge  upon,  because  I  look  upon  it  as  an  essen- 
tial part  of  their  history.  I  shall  be  forced  to  trent  of 
their  other  customs  wit!)  the  greatest  brevity.  Amongst 
which,  the  marriages  and  burials  are  too  material  to 
be  omitted. 

There  is  nothing  more  horrible,*  or  that  gives  us  a 
stronger  idia  of  the  profound  darkness  into  which 
idolatry  had  plunged  mankind,  than  the  public  pros- 
titution of  women  «t  Babylon,  which  was  not  onljr 
authorised  bv  law,  but  even  commanded  by  the  reli- 
gion of  the  "country,  upon  a  certain  annual  festival, 
celebrated  in  honour  of  the  goddess  Venus,  under  the 
name  of  Mylitta,  whose  temple  by  menus  of  this  in- 
famous ceremony,  became  a  biothcl  or  place  of  de- 
bauchery. This  wicked  custom  was  still  in  being* 
and  very  prevalent  when  the  Israelites  were  cnrried 
captive'to  that  criminal  city ;  for  which  reason  the 
prophet  Jeremiah  thought  fit  to  caution  and  admonish 
them  against  so  scandalous  an  abomination. 

Nor  had  the  Persians  any  better  noticn  of  the  dig- 
nity and  sanctity  of  the  matrimonial  institution  than 
the  Babylonians.  I  do  not  mean  only  with  regard  to 
that  incredible  multitude  of  wives  and  concubines.*  ith 
which  their  kings  filled  their  seraglios,*  and  of  which 
they  were  as  jealous  as  if  they  hud  had  but  one  wife, 
keeping  them'  all  shut  up  in  separate  apartments  un- 
der a  strict  guard  of  eunucn*.  without  snfl'eriixr  th«m 
to  have  any  communication  w  ith  one  nnntl-er,  nu  :h 
less  with  p'ersons  without  doors.  It  strikes  one  vr.th 
horror  to  read  how  far  they  carried  their  neglect  and 


•  Herod.  I.  i.  c.  ]W. 
«  Barorh.  »i.  42.  43. 


i  Herod.  1  I.  14.1 


200 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC/ 


contempt  of  tlic  most  common  lawi  of  nature.1  Even 
inr.e*  with  a  sister  was  allowed  amongst  them  by 
their  laws,  or  at  least  authorised  by  their  Magi,  those 
pfften  led  sasres  of  Persia,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  his- 
torv  of  Cambyses.  Nor  did  even  a  father  respect  his 
own  'laughter,  or  a  mother  the  son  of  her  own  body. 
We  read  in  Plutarch,*  that  Parysatis,  the  mother  "of 
Artaxerxes  Mnemon,  who  strove  in  all  things  to  please 
the  king  her  son,  perceiving  that  he  had  conceived  a 
riolent  pas»ion  for  one  of  hii  own  daughters,  called 
Atosta.  was  so  far  from  opposing  his  unlawful  desire, 
that  she  herself  advised  him  to  marrv  her,  and  make 
her  his  lawful  wife,  and  laughed  at  the  maxims  and 
law*  of  the  Grecians,  which  taught  the  contrary.  For, 
savs  she  to  him.  carrying  her  flattery  to  a  monstrous 
exce»s,  arc  not  yon  yourself  set  by  (rod  over  the  Per- 
sians, as  the  only  law  and  rule  rfwhat  is  becoming  or 
unbecoming,  virtuous  or  vicious? 

Tois  dete-table  custom  continued  till  the  time  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  who,  being  become  master  of 
Persia,  \tj  the  overthrow  and  death  of  Darius,  made 
an  express  law  to  suppress  it.  These  enormities  may 
serve  to  teach  us  from  what  an  abvss  the  Gospel  has 
delivered  us:  and  how  weak  a  barrier  human  wisdom 
is  of  itself  against  the  most  extravagant  and  abomina- 
ble crimes. 

I  shall  finish  this  article  by  saying  a  word  or  two 
upon  their  manner  of  burying  the  dead.  It  was  not 
the  custom  of  the  Eastern  nation*,8  and  especially  of 
the  Persians,  to  erect  funeral  piles  for  the  dead,  and 
consume  their  bodies  in  the  flames.  Accordingly*  we 
find  that  Cyrus,*  when  he  was  at  the  point  of  death, 
took  care  to  charge  hi«  children  to  inter  his  body,  and 
to  restore  it  to  the  earth;  that  is  the  expression  he 
makes  use  of;  by  which  he  seems  to  declare,  that  he 
looked  upon  the  earth  as  the  original  parent,  from 
whence  he  sprung,  and  to  which  he  ought  to  return. 
And  when  Cambyses  had  offered  a  thousand  indigni- 
ties t«  the  dead  body  of  Amasis,  king  of  F.gypt,'  he 
thought  he  crowned  all  by  causing  it  to  be  burnt, 
which  was  equally  contrary  to  the  Egyptian  and  Per- 
sian manner  of  treating  the  dead.  It  was  the  custom 
of  the  latter  to  wrap  up  their  dead  in  wax,7  in  order 
to  keep  them  the  longer  from  corruption. 

I  thought  proper  to  give  a  fuller  account  in  this 
place  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Persians, 
because  the  history  of  that  people  will  take  up  a  great 
part  of  this  work,  and  because  I  shall  say  no  more  on 
that  subject  in  the  sequel.  The  treatise  of  Barnabas 
Brisson,8  prr«ident  of  the  parliament  of  Paris,  upon 
the  government  of  the  Persians,  has  been  of  great  use 
to  me.  Such  collections  as  these,  when  they  are  made 
by  able  hand*,  save  a  writer  a  great  deal  of  pains,  and 
furnish  him  with  erudite  observations,  which  cost  him 
little,  and  yet  often  do  him  great  honour. 

ARTICLE  V. 

THY;  CAUSES  OF  THE  DECLEKSIOfC  OF  THE  PERSIAN 
EMPIRE,  AND  OF  THE  CHANGE  THAT  HAPPENED 
IN  THEIR  MANNERS. 

When  we  compare  the  Persians,  as  they  were  be- 
fore Cyrus  and  during  his  reign,  with  what  they  were 
afterwards  in  the  reigns  of  his  successors,  we  can 
hardly  believe  they  were  the  same  people;  and  we 
see  a  sensible  illustration  of  this  truth,  that  the  de- 
clension of  manners  in  any  state  is  always  attended 
with  that  of  empire  and  dominion. 

Amonsr  many  other  causes  that  brought  about  the 
declension  of  the  Persian  empire,  the  four  following 


i  Pliilo.  lib.  de  Special,  leg.  p.  77R   Dio?.  Laer.  fn  Proem. 
p.  6.  »  In  Artsx.  p.  1023. 

•  Hcr..d.  1.  iii.  c.  16.  «  Pyrop.  I   viii.  p.  TO. 

•  Ar  mihi  quidenn  >intiqui«<'imum  spp«ltura>  penu*  id  fiiis- 
M  vidfur.  quo  apud  Xeropbontrm  Cvrus  ulilur.     R?dfiitur 
onim  terrs>  rorpus.  et  it»  lorntum  nc  fit  urn  quasi  uperimento 
mairi«  i>hnuritur.      Cic.  lib.  ii.  de  Itg.  n.  56. 

•  Hcroil.  I.  iii.  r.  Iti. 

•  Pondiunt  Ervptii  mortuos,  et  eo»  domi  servant:  Perne 
J«m  wrn   oirrumlito*  eondiunt,  ut  <|tiAm   mnTime  pcrmane- 
•nt  dititurna  rnr|iora.     Cic.  Tustvl  Qnirtt.  liK  i   n.  108. 

•  lt:inTili.  liriwoiiiuf  de  regio   Persatum  principatu,  tc. 
trfenttr€ti.    710. 


may  be  looked  upon  as  the  principal:  Their  excessive 
magnificence  and  luxury;  the  abject  subjection  and 
slavery  of  the  people;  the  bad  education  of  theil 
princes,  which  was  the  source  of  all  their  irregulari- 
ties; and  their  want  of  faith  in  the  execution  oi  their 
treaties,  oaths,  and  engagements. 

SECTION    I. — LUXURY  AND  MAGNIFH-'ENCE. 

WHAT  made  the  Persian  troops  in  Cyrus's  lime  to 
be  looked  upon  as  invincible,  was  the  temperate  and 
hard  life  to  which  they  were  accustomed  from  their 
infancy,  having  nothing  but  water  lor  their  ordinary 
drink,  bread  and  roots  for  their  food,  the  ground,  or 
something  as  hard,  to  lie  upon,  inuring  themselves  to 
the  most  painful  exercises  and  labours, and  esteeming 
the  greatest  dangers  as  nothing.  The  temperature 
of  the  country  where  they  were  born,  which  was  rough, 
mountainous,  and  woody,  might  somewhat  contribute 
to  their  hardiness;  for  which  reason  Cyrus  would 
never  consent  to  the  project  of  transplanting  them 
into  a  more  mild  and  agreeable  climate.9  The  excel- 
lent education  bestowed  upon  the  ancient  Persians, 
of  which  we  have  already  given  a  sufficient  account, 
and  which  was  not  left  to  the  humours  and  caprice  of 
parents,  but  was  subject  to  the  authority  and  direction 
of  the  magistrates,  and  regulated  upon  principle*  of 
the  public  good;  this  excellent  education  prepared 
them  for  observing,  in  all  places  and  at  all  times,  a 
most  exact  and  severe  discipline.  Add  to  this,  the 
influence  of  the  prince's  example,  who  made  it  his 
ambition  to  surpass  all  his  subjects  in  regularity,  was 
the  most  abstemious  and  sober  in  his  manner  of  life,  the 
plainest  in  his  dress,  the  most  inured  and  accustomed 
to  hardships  and  fatigues,  as  well  as  tlie  bravest  and 
most  intrepid  in  the  time  of  action.  What  might  not 
be  expected  from  soldiers  so  formed  and  so  trained 
up?  By  them  therefore  we  find  Cyrus  conquered  a 
great  part  of  the  world. 

After  all  his  victories  he  continued  to  exhort  his 
army  and  people  not  to  degenerate  from  their  ancient 
virtue,  that  they  might  not  eclipse  the  glory  they  had 
acquired,  but  carefully  preserve  that  simplicity,  so- 
briety, temperance,  and  love  of  labour,  which  wtr« 
the  means  by  which  they  had  obtained  it.  But  I  do  not 
know,  whether  Cyrus  himself  did  not  at  that  very 
time  sow  the  first  seeds  of  that  luxury,  which  soon 
overspread  and  corrupted  the  whole  nation.  IP  that 
august  ceremony,  which  we  have  already  described  at 
large,  and  on  which  he  first  showed  himself  in  public 
to  his  new-conquered  subjects,  he  thought  proper,  ID 
order  to  heighten  the  splendour  of  his  regal  dignity, 
to  make  a  pompous  display  of  all  the  magnificence 
and  show,  that  was  best  calculated  to  dai2  e  the  eyes 
of  the  people.  Among  other  things  he  changed  his 
own  apparel,  as  also  that  of  his  officers,  giving  them  all 
garments  made  after  the  fashion  of  the  Mecles,  richly 
shining  with  gold  and  purple,  instead  of  their  Persian 
clothes,  which  were  very  plain  and  simple. 

This  prince  seemed  to  forget  how  much  the  conta- 
gious example  of  a  court,  the  natural  inclination  all 
men  have  to  value  and  esteem  what  pleases  the  eye 
and  makes  a  fine  show,  the  anxitty  they  have  to  dis- 
tinguish themselves  above  others  by  a  false  merit, 
easily  attained  in  proportion  to  the  degrees  of  wealth 
and  vanity  a  man  has  above  his  neighbours;  he  forgot 
how  capable  all  this  together  was  of  corruptins  lh« 
purity  of  ancient  manners,  and  of  introducing  by  de- 
grees a  general,  predominant  taste  for  extravagance 
and  luxury. 

This  luxury  and  extravagance  rose  in  time  to  such 
an  excess,  as  was  little  better  than  downright  mad- 
ness.10 The  prince  carried  all  his  wives  along  with 
him  to  the  wars;  and  with  what  an  equipage  such  a 
troop  must  be  attended,  is  easy  to  judge.  All  his 
generals  and  officers  followed  his  example,  each  in 
proportion  to  his  rank  and  ability.  Their  pretext  for 
so  doing  was,  that  the  sight  of  what  they  held  most 
dear  and  precious  in  the  world,  would  encourage  them 
to  fight  with  the  greater  resolution;  but  the  true  rea- 
son was  the  love  of  pleasure,  by  which  they 


»  Pint,  in  Apophth   p.  172, 
i»  Xen.  Cyr.  1.  iv.  p.  91— M. 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


201 


and  enslaved,  before  they  came  to  engage 
with  the  enemy. 

Another  instance  of  their  folly  was,  that  even  in  the 
army  they  carried  their  luxury  and  extravagance  with 
reipiiC't  to  their  tents,  chariots,  and  tables,  to  a  greater 
excess,  if  possible,  than  they  did  in  their  cities.  The 
most  exquisite  meats,1  the  rarest  birds,  and  the  cost- 
In  -t  dainties  must  needs  be  found  for  the  prince  in 
whal  partol  the  world  soever  he  was  encamped.  They 
bad  their  vessels  of  gold  and  silver  without  number; 
instruments  of  luxury,2  says  a  certain  historian,  not 
of  victory,  proper  to  allure  and  enrich  an  enemy,  but 
not  to  repel  or  defeat  him. 

I  do  not  see  what  reason  Cyrus  could  have  for 
changing  his  conduct  in  the  last  years  of  his  life.  It 
must  be  owned,  indeed,  that  the  station  of  kings  re- 
quires a  suitable  grandeur  and  magnificence,  which 
•lay  on  certain  occasions  be  carried  even  to  a  degree 
of  pomp  and  splendour.  But  princes  possessed  of  a 
real  and  solid  merit,  have  a  thousand  wins  of  com- 
pensating what  they  seem  to  lose  by  retrenching  some 
part  of  iheir  outward  state  and  magnificence.  Cyrus 
himself  had  found  by  experience,  that  a  king  is  more 
sure  of  gaining  respect  from  his  people  bv  the  wisdom 
of  his  conduct  than  by  the  greatness  of  nis  expenses; 
and  that  affection  and  confidence  produce  a  closer 
attachment  to  hi*  person  than  a  vain  admiration  of 
unnecessary  pomp  and  grandeur.  Be  this  at  will,  Cy- 
rus's last  example  became  very  contagious.  A  laste  for 
pomp  and  expense  first  prevailed  at  court,  then  spread 
llsell  into  the  cities  and  provinces,  and  in  a  little  time 
infected  the  whole  nation,  and  was  one  of  the  princi- 

tal  causes  of  the  ruin  of  that  empire,  which  he  himself 
ad  founded. 

What  is  here  said  of  the  fatal  effects  of  luxury,  is 
not  peculiar  to  the  Persian  empire.  The  most  judi- 
cious historians,  the  most  learned  philosophers,  and 
the  profoundest  politicians,  all  lay  it  down  as  a  certain, 
indisputable  maxim,  that  whenever  luxury  prevails,  it 
never  fails  to  destroy  the  most  flourishing  states  and 
kingdoms;  and  the  experience  of  all  ages,  and  all  na- 
tion?, does  but  too  clearly  demonstrate  the  truth  of 
this  n:a\im. 

What  then  is  that  subtle,  secret  poison,  that  thus 
lurks  under  the  pomp  of  luxury  and  thecharms  of  plea- 
sure, and  is  capable  of  enervating  at  the  same  time 
both  the  whole  strength  of  the  body,  and  the  vigour  of 
tht  mind?  It  is  not  very  difficult  to  comprehend  why 
it  has  this  terrible  effect.  When  men  are  accustomed 
to  a  soft  and  voluptuous  life,  can  they  be  very  fit  for 
undergoing  the  fatigues  and  hardships  of  war?  Are 
they  qualified  for  suffering  the  rigour  of  the  season; 
for  enduring  hunger  and  thirst;  for  passing  whole 
nights  without  sleep  upon  occasion :  for  going  through 
continual  exercise  and  action;  for  facing  danger  and 
despising:  death?  The  natural  effect  of  voluptuous- 
ness and  delicacy,  which  are  the  inseparable  compan- 
ions of  luxury,  is  to  render  men  subject  to  a  multitude 
ol  lalse  wants  and  necessities,  to  make  their  happiness 
depend  upon  a  thousand  trifling  conveniences  and  su- 
perfluities, which  they  can  no  longer  be  without,  and 
to  give  them  an  unreasonable  fondness  for  life,  on  ac- 
count of  a  thousand  secret  ties  and  engagements  that 
endear  it  to  them,  and  which  by  stifling  in  them  the 
great  motives  of  glory,  of  zeal  for  their  prince,  and  love 
for  the:r  country,  render  them  fearful  and  cowardly, 
ami  hinder  them  from  exposing  themselves  to  dangers, 
which  may  in  a  moment  deprive  them  of  all  those 
things  wherein  they  place  their  felicity. 

SECTION    II. — THE  ABJECT  SUBMISSION  AND  SLA- 
VERY OF  THE  PERSIANS. 

WE  are  told  by  Plato,  that  this  was  one  of  the  causes 
of  the  declension  of  the  Persian  empire.  And  indeed 
what  contributes  most  to  the  preservation  of  states, 
»nd  renders  their  st-ms  victorious,  is  not  the  number, 
kiit  the  vigour  and  courage  of  their  armies:  and  as  it 
«/as  finely  said  hy  one  of  ihe  arcienis;syrom  the  day 

*  Ponec.  I.  ui.  dp  Ira.  r.  20. 

*  Kon   belli   ceil  luvuriip   nppnraf-n — Aciem    Permrum 
torn  piirpuracgue  fulffpntum  iniueri  j ibebat  Alexander,  pnt- 
dam.  iion  arrnn  ci-«iantem.     O.   C~rt. 

*  n.im.  o«ivi«:  p.  -.-.  3:2. 
VOL.  I. -26 


a  man  loseth  his  liberty,  he  loseth  one  half  of  his  an- 
cunt  virtue.  He  is  no  longer  concerned  tor  the  pros- 
perity of  the  state,  to  which  he  looks  upon  himst-lf  at 
an  alien;  and  having  lo.st  the  principal  motives  of  hi* 
attachment  to  it,  he  becomes  indifferent  to  the,  success 
of  public  affairs  to  the  glory  or  welfare  of  his  coui. 
try,  in  which  his  circumstances  tllow  him  to  claim  no 
share,  and  by  which  his  own  private  condition  is  not 
altered  nor  improved.  It  may  truly  be  said  that  the 
reign  of  Cyrus  was  a  reign  of  liberty.  'J  hat  prince 
never  acted  in  an  arbitrary  manner;  :iordid  he  think, 
that  a  despotic  power  was  worthy  of  a  king;  or  that 
there  was  any  great  gloiy  in  ruling  an  empire  of 
slaves.  His  tent  was  always  op*n;  aird  free  access 
was  allowed  to  every  one  that  desired  to  speak  to  him. 
He  did  not  live  retired,  but  was  visible,  accessible, 
and  affable  to  all;  heard  their  complaints  and  with 
his  own  eyes  observed  and  rewarded  merit;  invited  to 
hi*  table  not  only  the  generals  of  his  army,  not  only 
the  principal  officers,  but  even  subalterns,  and  some- 
times whole  companies  of  soldiers.  The  simplicity 
and  frugality  of  his  table  made  him  capable  of  giving 
such  entertainments  frequently.4  His  aim  was  to 
animate  his  officers  and  soldiers,  to  inspire  them  with 
courage  and  resolution,  to  attach  them  to  his  person 
rather  than  to  his  dignity,  and  to  make  thi  m  warmly 
espouse  his  glory,  and  still  more  the  interest  and  pros- 
perity of  the  state.  This  is  what  may  truly  be  called 
the  art  of  governing  and  commanding. 

In  reading  Xenophon,  we  observe  with  pleasure, 
not  only  those  fine  turns  of  wit,  that  justness  and  in- 
genuity in  their  answers  and  repartees,  that  delicacy 
in  jesting  and  raillery;  but  at  the  same  time  that  ami- 
able cheerfulness  and  gavetv  which  enlivened  theiren- 
Urtainments,  from  which  all  pomp  and  luxury  were 
banished,  and  in  which  the  principal  seasoning  was  a 
decent  and  becoming  freedom,  that  prevented  all  con- 
straint, and  a  kind  of  familiarity  which  was  so  far  from 
lessening  their  respect  for  the  prince,  that  it  gave  such 
a  life  and  spirit  to  it,  as  nothing  but  a  real  affection 
and  tenderness  could  produce.  1  may  \enture  to  say, 
that  by  such  a  conduct  as  this  a  prince  doubles  and 
trebles  his  army  at  a  small  expense.  Thirty  thousand 
men  of  this  sort  are  preferable  to  millions  of  such 
slaves  as  these  very  Persians  became  altei wards.  If* 
time  of  action,  on  a  decisive  day  of  battle,  this  truth 
is  most  evident,  and  the  prince  is  more  sensible  of  it 
than  any  body  else.  At  the  battle  of  Thy  mbra,  when 
Cyrus's  horse  fell  under  him,  Xenophon  takes  notice 
of  what  importance  it  is  to  a  commander  to  be  loved 
by  his  soldiers.  The  danger  of  the  king's  person  be- 
came the  danger  of  the  army;  and  his  troops  on  that 
occasion  gave  incredible  proofs  of  their  courage  and 
bravery. 

Things  were  not  carried  on  in  the  same  manner, 
under  the  greatest  part  of  his  successors.  Their  only 
care  was  to  support  the  pomp  of  sovereignty.  1  must 
confess,  their  outward  ornaments  and  ensigns  of  roy- 
alty did  not  a  little  contribute  to  that  end.  A  purple 
robe  richly  embroidered,  and  hanging  down  to  their 
feet,  a  tiara,  worn  upright  on  their  heads,  and  encircled 
by  a  superb  diadem,  a  golden  sceptre  in  their  hand*, 
a  magnificent  throne,  a  numerous  and  splendid  court, 
a  multitude  of  officers  and  guards;  these  things  must 
needs  conduce  to  heighten  the  splendour  of  royally; 
but  all  this,  when  this  is  all,  is  of  little  or  no  value. 
What  Is  Ihe  king  in  reality,  who  loses  all  his  merit 
and  his  dignity  when  he  puts  off  his  ornaments? 

Some  of  the  Eastern  kings  conceiving  that  they 
should  thereby  procure  the  greater  rever*  nee  to  their 
persons,  generally  kept  themselves  shut  up  in  their 
palaces,  and  seldom  showed  themselves  to  their  sub- 
jects. We  have  already  seen  that  Dejoces,  the  first 
king  of  the  Medes.  at  his  su<  cession  to  the  throne, 
introduced  this  policy,  which  afterwards  became  very 
common  in  all  the  Kastern  countries.  But  it  is  a  great 
mistake,  to  imagine  that  a  prince  cannot  descend  from 
his  grandeur,  by  a  sort  of  familiarity,  without  i'«  bas- 
ing or  lessening  his  greatness.  Artaxerx<s  did  not 
think  so;  and  Plutarch  observes,6  that  that  prince, 


4  Tamai  viren  hahet   frupalita*  Principle,  ut  tnt  inipen- 
diis,  tot  erocatiot  ibus  sola  sufficiat.     Plin.i*  Paneg.  Trtj. 
•  In  Anax.  p.  1013. 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


and  queeii  Statira,  his  wile,  took  a  pleasure  in  being; 
visible  and  of  easy  access  to  their  people;  and  by  so 
doing  were  but  the  more  respected. 

Among  the  Persians  no  subject  whatsoever  was 
allowed  to  appear  in  the  king's  presence  without 
prostrating  himself  before  him;  and  this  law,  which 
Seneca  with  good  reason  calls  a  Persian  slavery,1  Per- 
ticnm  servitutem,  extended  also  to  foreigners.  We 
shall  find  afterwards,  that  several  Grecians  refused 
to  comply  with  it,  looking  upon  such  a  ceremony  as 
derogatory  to  men  born  and  bred  in  the  bosom  of 
liberty.  Some  of  them,  less  scrupulous,  did  submit 
to  it,  but  not  without  great  reluctance;  and  we  are 
told,  that  one  of  them  in  order  to  cover  the  shame  of 
such  a  servile  prostration,  purposely  let  fall  his  ring 
when  he  came  near  the  king,*  that  he  might  have 
occasion  to  bend  his  body  on  another  account.  But 
it  would  have  been  criminal  for  any  of  the  natives  of 
the  country  to  hesitate  or  deliberate  about  a  homage, 
which  the  kings  exacted  from  them  with  the  utmost 
rigour. 

What  the  Scripture  relates  of  two  sovereigns,* 
whereof  the  one  commanded  all  his  subjects  on  pain 
of  death,  to  prostrate  themselves  before  his  image; 
and  the  other  under  the  game  penalty  suspended  all 
acts  of  religion,  with  regard  to  all  the  gods  in  gene- 
ral, except  to  himself  alone;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
of  the  ready  and  blind  obedience  of  the  whole  city  of 
Babylon,  who  ran  altogether  on  the  first  signal  to 
bend  the  knee  before  the  idol,  and  to  invoke  the  king 
exclusively  of  all  the  powers  of  heaven :  all  this  shows 
to  what  an  extravagant  excess  the  Eastern  kings 
carried  their  pride,  and  the  people  their  flattery  and 
servitude. 

So  great  was  the  distance  between  the  Persian  king 
and  his  subjects,  that  the  latter,  of  what  rank  or  qual- 
ity soever,  whether  satrap/%  governors,  near  relations, 
or  even  brothers  to  the  king,  were  looked  upon  only 
as  slaves;  whereas  the  king  himself  was  always  con- 
sidered, not  only  as  their  sovereign  lord  and  absolute 
master,  but  as  a  kind  of  divinity.  In  a  word,4  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  Asiatic  nations,  and  of  the 
Persians  more  particularly  than  any  other,  was  servi- 
tude and  slavery;  which  made  Cicero  say,5  that  the 
despotic  power  which  some  were  endeavouring  to 
establish  in  the  Roman  commonwealth,  was  an  insup- 
portable yoke,  not  only  to  a  Roman,  but  even  to  a 
Persian. 

It  was  therefore  this  arrogant  haughtiness  of  the 
princes  on  one  hand,  and  the  abject  submission  of  the 
people  on  the  other,  which  according  to  Plato,8  were 
the  principal  causes  of  the  ruin  of  the  Persian  empire, 
by  dissolving  all  the  ties  wherewith  a  king  is  united 
to  his  subjects,  and  the  subjects  to  their  king.  Such 
a  haughtiness  extinguishes  all  affection  and  humanity 
in  the  former;  and  such  an  abject  state  of  slavery 
leaves  the  people  neither  courage,  zeal,  nor  gratitude. 
The  Persian  kings  governed  only  by  throat*  and  me- 
naces, and  the  subjects  neither  obeyed  nor  marched, 
but  with  unwillingness  and  reluctance.  This  is  the 
idea  Xerxes  himself  gives  us  of  them  in  Herodotus, 
where  that  prince  is  represented  as  wondering  how 
the  Grecians,  who  were  a  free  people,  could  go  to 
battle  with  a  good  will  and  Inclination.  How  could 
any  thing  great  or  ncble  be  expected  from  men,  so 
dispirited  and  depressed  by  habitual  slavery  as  the 
Persians  were,  and  reduced  to  such  an  abject  servi- 
tude; which,  to  use  the  words  of  Longinus7  is  a  kind 
of  imprisonment,  wherein  a  man's  soul  may  be  said 
in  some  sort  to  grow  little  and  contracted. 

I  am  unwilling  to  say  it;  but  I  do  not  know,  whether 
the  great  Cyrus  himself  did  not  contribute  to  intro- 
duce among  the  Persians  both  that  extrava»ant  pride 
in  their  kings,  and  that  abject  submission  and  flattery 
in  the  people.  It  was  in  that  pompous  ceremony, 
which  I  have  several  times  mentioned,  that  the  Pe'r- 
lians,  (till  then  very  jealous  of  their  liberty,  and  verv 


i   I. ili.  iii.  <le  Rnncf.  r   12,  nt  lib.  iii.  de  Ira,  a.  17. 

•  JE\\an.  I.  i.  Vur.  Ilistor.  rap.  xxi. 

•  Nc'liijrhadnr/./.ur,  Dan   iii.     DuriuR  the  Mede,  Dun.  vi. 
«  Plut.  in  A in.pl, Hi.  p  213. 

»  Lib.  x    Kjiist.  ad  Attic. 

•  Lib.  iii  de  Leg.  p.  6U7.  *  Cap.  xxsv 


far  from  being  inclined  to  make  a  shameful  f.rostitutioc 
of  it  by  any  •mean  behaviour  or  servile  compliances, 
first  bent  the  knee  before  their  prince,  and  stooped 
to  a  posture  of  adoration.  Nor  was  this  an  effect  of 
chance;  for  Xenophon  intimates  clearly  enough,  that 
Cyrus,8  who  desired  to  have  that  homage  paid  to  him, 
had  appointed  persons  on  purpose  to  begin  it;  whose 
example  was  accordingly  followed  by  the  multitude. 
In  these  little  tricks  and  stratagems,  we  no  longer 
discern  that  nobleness  and  greatness  of  soul  which 
had  ever  been  conspicuous  in  that  prince  till  this  occa- 
sion: and  I  should  be  apt  to  think,  that  being  arrived 
to  the  utmost  pitch  of  glory  and  power,  he  could  no 
longer  resist  those  violent  attacks  wherewith  pros- 
perity is  always  assaulting  even  the  best  of  princes, 
seciindcf  ret  sapientium  animosfatig-ant;9  and  that  at 
last  pride  and  vanity,  which  are  almost  inseparable 
from  sovereign  power,  forced  him, -and  in  a  manner 
tore  him,  from  himself  and  his  own  naturally  good  in- 
clinations; Vi  dominationis  convulsiis  et  ntuiatus.10 

SECTION  III.— THE  WRONG  EDUCATION  OF  THEM 
PRINCES  ANOTHER  CAUSE  OF  THE  KECLENSIOB 
OF  THE  PERSIAN  EMPIRE. 

IT  is  Plato  still,"  the  prince  of  philosophers,  who 
makes  this  reflection;  and  we  shall  find,  if  we  nar- 
rowly examine  the  fact  in  question,  how  solid  and 
judicious  it  is,  and  how  inexcusable  Cyrus's  conduct 
was  in  this  respect. 

Never  had  any  man  more  reason  than  Cyrus  to  be 
sensible  how  highly  necessary  a  good  education  is  to 
a  young  prince.  He  knew  the  whole  value  of  it  with 
regard  to  himself,  and  had  found  all  the  advantages 
of  it  by  his  own  experience.  What  he  most  earnestly 
recommended  to  his  officers,12  in  that  fine  discourse 
which  he  made  to  them  after  the  taking  of  Babylon 
in  order  to  exhort  them  to  maintain  the  glory  and 
reputation  they  had  acquired,  was  to  educate  their 
children  in  the  same  manner  as  they  knew  they  were 
educated  in  Persia,  and  to  preserve  themselves  in  the 
practice  of  the  same  manners  as  were  observed  there, 

Would  one  believe,  that  a  prince,  who  spoke  and 
thought  in  this  manner,  could  ever  have  entirely  ne- 
glected the  education  of  his  own  children?  Yet  this  ii 
what  happened  to  Cyrus.  Forgetting  that  he  was  a 
father,  and  employing  himself  wholly  about  his  con- 
quests, he  left  that  care  entirely  to  women,  that  is 
to  princesses,  brought  up  in  a  country  where  pomp 
luxury,  and  voluptuousness  reigned  in  the  highest 
degree;  for  the  queen,  his  wife  was  of  Media.  And 
in  the  same  taste  and  manner  were  the  two  young 
princes,  Cambyses  and  Smerdis,  educated.  Nothing 
they  asked  was  ever  refused  them:  all  their  desires 
were  anticipated.  The  great  maxim  was,  that  their 
attendants  should  cross  them  in  nothing,  never  con- 
tradict them,  nor  ever  make  use  of  reproofs  or  remon- 
strances with  them.  No  one  opened  his  mouth  in 
their  presence,  but  to  praise  and  commend  what  they 
said  and  did.  Even'  one  cringed  and  stooped  and 
bent  the  knee  before" them;  and  it  was  thought  essen- 
tial to  their  greatness  to  place  an  infinite  distance 
between  them  and  the  rest  of  mankind,  as  if  they  had 
been  of  a  different  species  from  them.  It  is  Plato  that 
informs  us  of  all  these  particulars;  for  Xenophon,  pro- 
bably to  spare  his  hero,  says  not  one  word  erf  the  man- 
ner in  which  these  princts  were  brought  np,  though 
he  gives  us  so  ample  an  account  of  the  education  of 
their  father. 

What  surprises  me  the  most  is,  that  Cyrus  did  not, 
at  least,  take  them  along  with  him  in  his  last  cam 
paigns,  in  order  to  draw  them  out  of  that  soft  and 
effeminate  course  of  life,  and  to  instruct  them  in  the 
art  of  war;  for  they  must  needs  have  been  of  sufficient 
years:  but  perhaps  the  women  opposed  his  design, 
and  overruled  him. 

Whatever  the  obstacle  was,  the  effort  of  tne  educa 
tion  of  these  princes  was  such  as  ii'ight  be  expected 
from  it.  Cambyses  came  out  of  that  school  what  h« 
is  represented  in  history,  an  obstinate  and  self-con 


•  Cvnn.  I.  viii.  p.  C15. 

to  "Tacit.  Annul.  I.  vi.  r.  <#. 

i'  Lib.  ii;.  de  Lag.  p.  O'.M,  COS. 


•  Sullust. 
»i  Cyrop.  I.  vii.  p  20* 


MANNERS  OF  THE  ASSYRIANS,  ETC. 


203 


««ited  prince,  full  of  arrogance  and  vanity,  abandoned 
to  the  most  scandalous  excess  of  drunkenness  and 
debauchery,  cruel  and  inhuman,  even  to  the  causing 
of  his  own  brother  to  be  murdered  in  con«eque-we  of 
A  dream;  in  a  word,  a  furious  frantic  madman,  who 
l>y  his  ill  conduct  brought  the  empire  to  the  brink  of 
destruction 

His  father,  MIT*  Plato,  left  him  at  his  death  vast  pro- 
vinces, immense  riches,  with  innumerable  forces  by 
•ea  and  land;  but  he  had  not  given  him  the  means  of 
preserving  them,  by  teaching  him  the  right  use  oi  such 
power. 

This  philosopher  makes  the  same  reflections  with 
regard  to  Darius  and  Xerxes.  The  former  not  being 
the  son  ol'a  king,  had  not  been  brought  up  in  the  same 
effeminate  manner  as  princes  were;  but  ascended  the 
throne  with  a  long  habit  of  industry,  great  temper  and 
moderation,  a  courage  little  inferior  to  that  of  Cyrus, 
by  which  he  added  to  the  empire  almost  as  many  pro- 
vinces as  the  other  had  conquered.  But  he  was  no 
better  a  father  than  he,  and  reaped  no  benefit  from 
the  fajlt  of  his  predecessor  in  neglecting  the  educa- 
tion of  his  children.  Accordingly,  his  son  Xerxes 
was  little  better  than  a  second  Cambyses. 

From  all  this,  Plato,  after  having  shown  what  num- 
berless rocks  and  quicksands,  almost  unavoidable,  lie 
in  the  way  of  persons  bred  in  the  arms  of  wealth  and 
greatness,  concludes,  that  one  principal  cause  of  the 
declension  and  ruin  of  the  Persian  empire  was  the  bad 
education  of  their  princes;  because  those  first  exam- 
ples had  an  influence  upon,  and  became  a  kind  of  rule 
to,  all  their  successors,  under  whom  every  thing  still 
degenerated  more  and  more,  till  at  last  their  luxury 
exceeded  all  bounds  and  restraints. 

SECTION*     IV.— THEIR    BREACH    OF    FAITH    AND 

WANT   OF    SINCERITY. 

WE  are  informed  by  Xenophon,1  that  one  of  the 
cnusrs  both  of  the  great  corruption  of  manners  among 
the  Persians,  and  of  the  destruction  of  their  empire, 
was  the  want  of  public  faith.  Formerly,  says  he,  the 
king,  and  those  that  governed  under  him,  thought  it 

•  n  indispensable  duty  to  keep  their  word, and  inviola- 
bly to  observe  all  treaties  into  which  they  had  entered, 
with  the  solemnity  of  an   oath;  and   that   even  with 
respect  to  those  that  had   rendered  themselves  most 
unworthy  of  such  treatment,  through  their  perfidious- 
n«>»s  and  insincerity:  and  it  was  by  this  sound  policy 
mud   pnHent  conduct,  that  thev  gained  the  absolute 
confidence,  both  of  their  own  subject*,  and  of  all  their 
neighbours  and  allies.    This  is  a  very  great  encomium 
given  by  the  historian  to  the  Persians,  which  undoubt- 
edly belongs  chiefly  to  the  reign  of  the  grrat  Cyrus; 
though  Xmop'  on  applies  it  likewise  to  that  of  the 
younger  Cyrus.*  whose  grand  maxim  was,  as  he  tells 
ns,  never  to  violate  his  faith  upon  any  pretence  what- 
soever, with  regard  either  to  any  word  he  had  given, 
any  promise   ma.le.  or  any  treaty  he  had   concluded. 
These   princes  had  a  just  idea  of  the   regal   dignity, 

•  nd  rightly    judged,  »nat   if  probity  and    truth  were 
banished  from  the  rest  of  mankind,  they  ought  to  find 
k  sanctuary  in  the   heart  of  a  king;    who,  being  the 
bond  and  centre,  as  it  were,  of  «ocietv,  should  also  be 
the  protector  and  avenger  of  faith  engaged;  which  is 
the  very  foundation  on  which  the  other  depend*. 

Such  »entiments  as  these,  to  noble  and  so  worthy 

»  Cjrop  1.  riii.  ;x  239         •  De  Ezped.  Cyr.  1.  i.  p.  967. 


of  persons  born  for  government,  did  not  last  long.  A 
false  prudence,  and  a  spurious  artificial  policy,  toon 
succeeded  in  their  place.  Instead  of  faith,  prob'ty, 
and  true  merit,  says  Xuiophon,3  «  hich  heretofoie  the 
prince  used  to  cherish  and  di-.tiiij.uish,  all  the  chief 
offices  of  the  court  began  to  be  filled  with  the:  :  j>re- 
tended  zealous  servants  of  the  king,  who  sac.-inced 
every  thing  to  his  humour  and  supposed  interests; 
who  hold  it  as  a  maxim,4  that  falsehood  and  deceit, 
perfidiousness  and  perjury,  if  boldly  and  artfully  put 
in  practice,  are  the  shortest  and  surest  expedient?  to 
give  success  to  his  enterprises  and  designs;  who  look 
upon  a  scrupulous  adherence  in  a  prince  to  his  word, 
and  to  the  engagements  into  which  he  has  entered,  as 
an  eflect  of  pusillanimity,  incapacity,  and  want  of  un- 
derstanding; and  whose  opinion,  in  short,  is,  that  a 
man  is  unqualified  for  government,  if  he  does  not  pre- 
fer considerations  of  state,  before  the  exact  observa- 
tion of  treaties,  though  concluded  in  never  so  solemn 
and  sacred  a  manner. 

The  Asiatic  nations,  continues  Xenophon,  soon 
imitated  their  prince,  who  became  their  example  and 
instructor  in  double-dealing  and  treachery.  They 
soon  gave  themselves  up  to  violence,  injustice,  and 
impiety :  and  from  thence  proceeds  that  strange  alter- 
ation and  difference  we  find  in  their  manners,  as  also 
the  contempt  they  conceived  for  their  sovereigns, 
which  is  both  the  natural  consequence  and  usual  pun- 
ishment of  the  little  regard  princes  pay  to  the  most 
sacred  and  awful  solemnities  of  religion. 

Surely  the  oath  by  which  treaties  are  sealed  and 
ratified,  and  the  Deity  invoked  not  only  as  present,  but 
as  guarantee  of  the  conditions  stipulated,  is  a  most 
sacred  and  august  ceremony,  very  proper  for  the  sub- 
jecting of  earthly  princes  to  the  supreme  Judge  of  hea- 
ven and  earth,  who  alone  is  qualified  to  judge  them; 
an-t  for  the  keeping  of  all  human  majesty  within  the 
bo  jnds  of  its  duty,  by  making  it  app<ar  before  the 


to  secure  their  respect  and  reverence  for  themselves? 
When  once  that  fear  conies  to  be  extinguished  in  the 
subjects  as  well  as  in  the  prince,  what  will  become  of 
fidelity  and  obedience,  and  on  what  foundation  will 
the  throne  be  established?  Cyrus  had  good  reason  to 
say,*  that  he  looked  upon  none  as  good  servants  and 
faithful  subjects,  but  such  as  had  a  sense  of  religion, 
and  a  reverence  for  the  Deity:  nor  is  it  at  all  astonish- 
ing that  the  contempt  which  an  impious  prince  \vho 
has  no  regard  to  the  sanctity  of  oaths,  shows  of  Cod 
and  religion,  should  shake  the  very'  foundations  of  the 
firmest  and  best  established  empires,  and  sooner  or 
later  occasion  their  utter  destruction.  Kings,  says 
Plutarch,8  when  any  revolution  happens  in  their  do- 
minions, are  apt  to  complain  bitterly  of  their  subjects' 
unfaithfulness  and  disloyalty  :  but  they  do  them 
wrong;  and  forget  that  it  was  themselves  who  gave 
them  the  first  It  ssons  of  their  disloyalty,  by  showing 
no  regard  to  justice  and  fidelity,  which  on  all  occa- 
sions they  sacrificed  without  scruple  to  their  own  par- 
ticular interests. 


»  Cyrop.  1.  »iii.  p.  2n9. 

4  'twt  t»  Kxrt(^*fi(ri*i  2r  iwiivfui*,  «TJ»TO^«T«T* 
*«»  £|T>  I. .a.  J.»  roe  iiriOfilTr  TI.  x«j  ^ivttfittt,  »» 
{a>r«Tif  it  Si  »«-Xov»  TI  ».  *».*:.{,  ri  «I,T«  rm  j»  li 

;»»••     De  Exped.Cyr.  L  L  p.  282. 
>  Cyrop.  1.  viii.  p.  'JO*.  •  Pint,  in  Pyrrh  330. 


TUB 


HISTORY  OF  THE  ORIGIN  AND  FIRST  SETTLEMENT 


OF  THE   SEVERAL 


STATES    AND    GOVERNMENTS 


GREECE.1 


BOOK  V. 


OF  nil  the  countries  of  antinnitv,  none  have  teeen 
IO  highly  celebrated,  or  furnished  history  with  so  nia- 
ny  valuable  monuments  and  illustrious  examples,  as 


Greece.  In  what  lipht  soever  she  is  Considered,  whe- 
ther for  the  glory  of  her  arms,  the  wisdom  of  her  lawi 
or  the  study  and  improvement  of  arts  and  sciences, 


>  [Greece,  in  its  most  extensive  sense,  a*  including  Alba- 
nia and  Macedonia,  is  hounded  on  the  north  by  a  chain  of 
mountains  anciently  called  Rhodope,  Scomius,  and  Orbetnf, 
which  separate  it  from  Sorvia  and  Bulgaria ;  on  the  ivest  by 
the  Adriatic  und  Ionian  seas;  on  the  couth  hy  the  Mediter- 
ranean; and  on  the  east  hy  the  &scan  sea  or  Archipelago. 
A*  it  is  washed  hy  the  sea  on  all  sides  hut  the  north,  where 
it  is  connected  with  the  provinces  mentioned  ahove,  it  may 
be  justly  termed  a  peninsula,  of  which  Peloponnesus,  or  the 
Morea,  connected  with  it  hy  the  isthmus  of  Coring,  forms 
the  southern  part.  Its  utmost  extent  from  north  ro  south, 
or  from  the  Scardian  mountains  to  the  promontory  of  Tie- 
minis,  now  Cape  Mntapan.  the  southernmost  point  of  the 
Morea.  is  (i  degrees  TO  minutes— namely,  from  42.  40.  north 
lat.  to  3fi.  10.  do.  or  450  English  miles.  From  cast  to  west, 
or  from  the  n.outh  of  the  ancient  Strymon  or  the  modern 
Harasu  in  23.  48.  east  Ions*,  of  Ixindon,  to  that  of  the  Drinus 
or  Drino,  in  19.  -J5.  east  long,  is  f>  degrees  3  minutes,  or  1P3 
jreograph'cal  or  213  English  miles.  But  if  we  extend  the 
eastern  boundary  to  the  month  of  the  river  Nestusor  Nesto, 
opposite  the  isle  of  Thasos.  in  24.  40.  east  Ion?.,  52  geojrra- 

Chical  or  Id  English  miles  must  he  added,  so  that  its  whole 
readth  on  its  northern  frontier  will  he  273  English  miles. 
The  hreadth  is  however  very  unequnl  :  between  the  gulphs 
of  Snlonichi  and  Valonn.  it  is  considerably  narrower :  nnd 
bet  worn  those  of  Arta  and  Zeitun,  the  width  does  not  exceed 
100  English  miles. 

Within  the  limits  stated  above,  includine  the  trac'  Ae- 
tween  the  Strvmon  and  the  Nest  us,  and  the  island  of  t.u- 
hre-a  or  the  modern  Nesrnjiont.  but  exclusive,  of  all  its  ..trier 
Winds,  Greece  contains  an  area  of  57,750  English  miles.  If 
to  lhe«e  be  added  1.000  square  miles  for  the.  Cyclndes,  the 
su;n  total  will  he  .V!.750  English  mill's,  whirl)  is  almost  ex- 
actly the  nrra  of  England,  or  double  that  of  Scotland,  with 
i'B  dependent  isles.  The  ar<-a  of  Gri-cco,  as  including  Atti- 
ca. Euh<v«.  Pn-otia.  Pliocis.  Doris,  Etolia.  Acarrmnia.  Thes- 
fnly.  aiirl  Masne.ia.  measured  on  D'Anville's  map.  which  is 
pronounced  by  Sir  VVillinm  (Jell,  a  very  competent  jud«e.  to 
be  the  most  accurate  nf  anv  that  have  been  constructed  since, 
comprehend*  14.HIO  En»li«h  square  mi'en.  Pelo|x>nne«us  or 
the  Morea.  which  included  seven  itisiinct  political  States. 
ha*  an  area  of  S.P50  surt.  miles.  Epirus  and  Athania.  in- 
fludi""  the  basin  of  the  Drino.  occnpv  a  surface  of  lfi.000 
Enslish  «onare  miles  Macedonia,  Jp.000  square  miles,  and 
the  Cvcladcs  1.0(0.  Totnl  .V.750 

Dnriii"  the  period  of  Grecian  independence,  however,  all 
these  territories  were  never  united  into  one  political  hodv. 
nor  formed  one  consolidated  jovernment  —  nor  was  ever  their 
combined  force  directed  to  the  prosecution  of  one  common 
object.  Those  communities,  whose  brilliant  achievements  in 
war.  philo-.oiihy,  or  art*,  raised  the  Grecian  nnme  so  bii'h. 
possessed  but  verv  small  portions  of  territory,  as  will  he 
fen  from  the  following  table  measured  on  D'Anville's 
map  :— 

Rnftith  rguare  milet. 
Attica,  includine  Meg»r«  and  Salami*,  but 

not  Filler*. 1.1"0 

Bnxitia. I..VWI 

Lncnnia  (without  Mcs«enbO 1.720 

Arhs.it  '.the  12  cities  with  their  territories,) 1,140 


The  celebrated  mountain  Olympus  was  considered  not 
merely  as  the  loftiest  summit  in  Greece;  hut  even  in  the 
opinion  of  the  ancient  geometricians,  as  the  highest  eleva- 
tion of  the  globe.  Its  height,  we  are  informed,  was  accu- 
rately measured  by  the  philosopher  Xenagoras.  and  found  te 
be  ten  stadia  and  a  plelhrum.  or  nearly  7,000  English  feet. 
This  is  somewhat  more  than  the  elevation  assigned  to  it  in 
the  Memoires  de  I' Academic  des  Sciences,  by  Joh.i  Rernou- 
lea,  where  it  is  given  at  1,017  toises,  or  0,512  English  feet. 
The  misfortune  is,  that  in  these  measurements  no  mention 
is  made  of  a  fixed  base,  to  enable  us  to  judire  of  the  accuracy 
of  the  calculations.  Snow  is  said  to  lie  frequently  on  certain 
parts  of  Olympus  during  the  whole  year.  The  ascent,  how- 
ever, is  perfectly  practicable  in  the  summer  season  ,  a* 
Sonnini  himself  visited  its  summit  from  Stilonica  during  that 
season  ;  and  a  small  Greek  chapel  has  even  been  constructed 
near  the  top.  where  service  i«  performed  once  a  year,  with 
a  sincular  contrast  to  the  old  mythology  of  the  spot.  The 
monastery  of  St.  Dionysius,  on  the  eastern  side,  is  the  high- 
est  habitation  on  the  mountain.  Its  elevation  has  been  pro- 
diziously  exaggerated  bv  the  poets,  who  described  it  as  the 
throne  of  Jupiter,  and  the  habitation  of  the  Gods.  Hence 
Jupiter  was  denominated  the  Recto'  Olympi.  or  Ruler  of 
Olvmpus.  in  the  Paean  Theology. 

The  famed  Parnassus  seems  to  he  regarded  by  Clarke  and 
Holland  as  the  loftiest  summit  in  Greece— nay,  by  the  for- 
mer ii  is  considered  as  one  of  the  highest  in  Europe,.  It  if 
amazing  how  Clarke  could  either  say  or  think  so ;  as  it  does 
not  enter  the  region  of  constant  congelation,  and  cannot 
therefore  he  half  the  elevation  of  Mounts  Rosa  and  Hlnnc,  or 
the  Orteler  Horn.  He  ascended  it  in  the  month  of  Decem- 
ber, and  reached  the  summit  after  consuming  4|  hours  only, 
in  the  journey  from  the  village  of  Arracovia.  This  village 
ip  indeed  pretty  high  up  the  mountain;  three  hours  distant 
from  Delphi  at  its  foot.  But  as  the  road  from  the  latter  to 
the  former  is  an  easy  ascent,  with  a  number  of  windings,  it 
is  plain  that  the  elevation  cannot  be  very  great.  The  sum- 
mil  was  a  plain  in  the  bottom  of  aerator,  containing  a  large 
pool  of  water,  then  frozen  over.  The  iides  of  this  crater, 
rising  in  rid»es  around  this  plain,  are  the  most  elevated 
points  of  Parnassus. 

The  riik'e  of  Helicon  lies  to  the  S.  E.  of  Parnassus,  heinj 
separated  from  it  by  the  plain  of  I.ivnilta.  Its  form  is  re- 
markably |  letnresque  nnd  graceful,  and  such  as  might  fit  it 
to  the  imagination  as  the  abode  of  the  Muses,  when  they 
quitted  the  loftier  heights  of  Pindus  and  Parnassus.  It  pos- 
sesses the  <rrani1i-ur  of  height  an-1  deepness;  but  it  is  a  gran- 
deur softened,  to  the  eye  bv  the  figure-  of  the  cliffs  and  inter- 
veniner  hollows— bv  the  woods  which  still  cover  them  as  in 
ancient  times — nnd  by  the  hcr.utiful  slopes  connecting  the 
cliff--  with  the  subjacent  plninn.  I*  vs  cml>ellished  with  the 
epithets  of  flreit  and  Difine  hy  Hcsiod  ;  and  Virffil  rails  it 
pm-ticnllv  the  An  an  iff  tar.  iv1  '.he  Aonian  mount  —  the  for- 
mer from  the  uni-ii-nl  inhabitants  of  the  country.  The  foun- 
tain Asnnipne  and  the  Grove  of  the  Muses,  are  siiilrcvu- 
nired  in  a  recess  of  the  mountain  near  the  monasteiy  of  8t 
Nicholas.  "  A  more  delightful  spot  is  not  to  lie  found,  says 
Clarke,  "  in  the  romantic  passes  of  Pwiss,'rtand.  Ft  is  sur- 
rounced  on  all  sides  hv  the  mountain:  one  small  opening 
•lone  presenting  a  picturesque  view  oft  ruined  tower — upee 

204 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


205 


•II  these  she  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection ; 
and  it  may  be  truly  said,  that  in  all  these  respects  she 
Bus  in  some  measure  been  the  school  of  mankind. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  be  very  much  interested  in 
the  history  ot  such  a  nation;  especially  when  we  con- 
cider  that  it  has  been  transmitted  to  us  by  writers  of 
the  most  consummate  merit,  many  of  whom  distin- 
guished themselves  as  much  by  their  swords  as  by 
their  pens;  and  were  as  great  commanders  and  able 
statesmen,  ns  excellent  historians.  I  confess,  it  is  a 
vast  advantage  to  have  such  men  for  guides;  men  of 
an  exquisite  judgment  and  consummate  prudence;  of 
a  refined  and  perfect  taste  in  every  respect;  and  who 
furnish  net  only  the  facts  and  thoughts,  as  well  as  the 
expressions  wherewith  they  are  to  be  represented; 
but  what  is  much  more  important,  the  proper  reflec- 
tions that  are  to  accompany  those  facts:  nnd  which 
are  the  most  useful  improvements  resulting  from  his- 
tory. These  are  the  rich  sources  from  whence  1  shall 
draw  all  that  I  have  to  say,  after  I  have  previously 
inquired  into  the  first  origin  and  establishment  of  the 
Grecian  states.  As  this  inquiry  must  be  dry,  and  not 
capable  of  affording  much  delight  to  the  reader,  I  shall 
be  as  brief  as  possible.  But  before  I  enter  upon  that, 
I  think  it  necessary  to  draw  a  kind  of  short  plan  of 
the  situation  of  the  country,  and  of  the  several  parts 
that  compose  it. 

ARTICLE  I. 

A   GEOGRAPHICAL   DESCRIPTION  OF  ANCIENT 
GREECE. 

Ancient  Greece,  which  is  now  the  south  part  of 
Turkey  in  Europe,  was  bounded  on  the  east  by  the 
JEgean  sea,  now  called  the  Archipelago;  on  the  south 
by  the  Cretan,  or  Candian  sea;  on  the  west  bv  the 
Ionian  sea;  and  on  the.  north  b}'  Illyria  nnd  Thrace. 

The  constituent  parts  ot  ancient  Greece,  are  Epirus, 
Peloponnesus,  Greece  properly  so  called,  Thessaly, 
and  Macedonia. 

EPIRUS.  This  province  is  situate  to  the  west,  and 
divided  from  Thessaly  and  Macedonia  by  mount  Pin- 
dus,  and  the  Acroceraunian  mountains. 

The  principal  inhabitants  of  Epirus  are,  the  Mo- 
LOSSIANS,  whose  chief  city  is  Dodona,  famous  for  the 
temple  and  oracle  of  Jupiter.  The  CHAONIANS,  whose 
principal  city  is  Oricum.  The  THESPROTIANS,  whose 
city  is  Buthrotum,  where  was  the  palace  nnd  residence 
of  Pyrrhtis.  The  ACARNANIANS.  whose  city  is  Am- 
bracia,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  gulf.  IS'ear  to  this 
•tood  Actium,  famous  for  the  victory  of  Augustus 
Ca?sar,  who  built  over  against  that  city,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  gulf,  a  city  named  Nicopolis.  There  were 
two  little  rivers  in  Epirus,  very  famous  in  fabulous 
Story,  Cocytus  and  Acheron. 

Epirus  must  have  been  very  well  peopled  in  former 
times;  as  Polybius  relates.1  that  Paulus  JEinilius,  after 
having  defeated  Perseus,  the  last  king  of  Macedonia, 
destroyed  seventy  cities  in  that  country,  the  greatest 
part  of  which  belonged  to  the  Molossians;  and  that 
ne  carried  away  from  thence  no  less  than  150,000 
prisoners. 

PELOPONNESUS.  This  is  a  peninsula,  now  called 
the  Mores,  joined  to  the  rest  of  Greece  only  by  the 
isthmus  of  Corinth,  that  is  but  six  miles  broad.  It  is 
well  known,  that  several  princes  have  attempted  in 
vain  to  cut  through  this  isthmus. 

an  eminence  in  front.  The  air  wan  filled  with  spicy  odoor* 
from  numberless  aromatic  plant*  covering  the  roil.  A  per- 
tnnial  Fountain.  gushing  from  the  »id«of  a  rook,  poured  down 
It*  clear  Hiid  babbling  water*  into  the  rivulet  below.  A  thirk 
grove  almost  concealed  the  monastery;  and  every  tree  that 
contributed  to  its  beauty  or  luxuriance  ap^ared  to  he  the 
wild  and  «pontaneous  produce  of  the  mountain.  Nothing 
-•terrupted  the  still  silence  of  this  solitude,  hut  the  humming 
«>».  snd  the  sound  of  falling  water*.  As  we  drnw  near 
to  the  fovntain,  we  found  it  covered  with  mow  and  with 
ereepi.is  ,. isms,  which  *pread  everywhere  their  pendent  fo- 
iwsre,  hanging  gracefully  from  the  tree*  by  which  it  was 
•hnued.  Such  are  the  natural  boaulie*  of  this  Jionian  bete- 
«r.  "Nro  miles  and  a  half  distant  from  t hi*,  and  higher  up 
the  mountain,  was  the  fountain  Hipporrene,  fabled  to  have 
tprung  from  the  earth,  when  *truck  by  the  hoof  of  Peguui, 
•r  the  winded  steed  of  Bellcrophon."]" 
i  Apud  Str»b.  I.  rii  p  322. 


The  parts  of  Peloponnesus  are  AcHAIV  j  roperly 
so  called,  whose  chief  cities  are  Corinth,  Si  \on,  Pa- 
trre,  &c.  El. is,  n,  which  i-  Olympia,  called  also  Pisa 
seated  on  the  river  Alpheus,  upon  the  banks  of  which 
the  Ohmpic  games  uoed  to  be  celebrated.  MESSE- 
.MA,  in  which  are  the  cities  of  Messene,  Pylos,  the 
birth  place  of  IVestor  and  Corona.  ARCADIA,  in 
which  was  Cyllene,  the  mountain  where  Mercury  was 
born,  the  cities  of  Tegea,  Stymphalus,  Mantmea,  and 
Megalopolis,  Poltbius's  native  place.  LACON1A 
wherein  stood  Sparta,  or  Lacedaemon,  and  Aniyclre, 
mount  Taygetus;  the  river  Et;rolas,  and  the  cape  of" 
Tenarus.  ARGci.is,  in  which  was  the  citv  of  Argos, 
called  also  Hippium,  famous  for  the  ttmpfe  of  Juno; 
JSenira,  Mycenae,  Kauplia,  Tnrzene,  and  Epidaurus, 
wherein  was  the  temple  o!  jEsculapius. 

GREECE,  properly  so  called.  The  principal  parts 
of  this  country  were  ./ETCL1A,  in  which  were  the 
cities  of  Chalcis,  Calydon,  and  Oienus.  DCRIS.  The 
LoCRI  OzoJJE.  Naupactus,  now  called  Lepanto,  fa- 
mous for  the  defeat  of  the  Turks  in  1571.  1  HI  cis. 
Antrcvra.  Delphi,  at  the  foot  of  mount  P<  rnassus 
famous  for  the  oracles  delivered  there.  In  this  country 
also  was  mount  Helicon.  BaoTIA.  Mount  Citha'ron. 
Orchoimnus.  Thespia.  Chsrona'a,  illustrious  as 
being  Plutarch's  native  country.  Plata0*,  famous  for 
the  defeat  of  Mardonius.  Thebes.  Aulis,  (among  for 
its  port,  from  whence  the  Grecian  army  set  sail  for 
the  siege  of  Troy.  Leuctra,  celebrated  lor  the  victory 
of  Epaminondas.  ATTICA.  Megara.  Eleusis.  Dece- 
lia.  Marathon,  where  Miltiades  defeated  the  Persian 
army.  Athens,  whose  ports  were  Pineeus,  Munychia, 
and  Phalerus.  The  mountain  Hymettus,  famous  for 
its  excellent  honey.  LOCRIS. 

THESSAI.V.  The  most  remarkable  towns  of  thi» 
province  were,  Gomphi.  Pharsiilia,  near  which  Julius 
Caesar  defeated  Pompey.  Magnesia.  Methone,  at 
the  siege  of  which  Philip  lost  his  eye.  Thermopylse, 
a  narrow  strait,  famous  for  the  vigorous  resistance  of 
300  Spartans  against  Xerxes's  numerous  army,  and 
for  their  glorious  defeat.  Phthia.  Thebes.  Larissa. 
Demetrias.  The  delightful  valleys  of  Tempe,  near 
the  banks  of  the  river  Peneus.  Ofynipus,  Pelion,  and 
Ossa,  three  mountains  celebrated  in  fabulous  story 
for  the  battle  of  the  giants. 

MACEDONIA.  I  shall  mention  only  a  few  of  the 
principal  towns  of  this  country.  Epidamnus,  or  Dvr- 
rachium,  now  called  Durazzo.  Apollonia.  Pefla, 
the  capital  of  the  country  and  the  native  place  of 
Philip,  and  of  his  son  Alexander  the  Great.  JEpe. 
^Edessa.  Pallene.  Olvnthus,  from  whence  the  Olyn- 
thiacs  of  Demosthenes  took  their  name.  Torone 
Acanthus.  Thessalonica,  now  called  Salonichi.  Sta 
gira,  the  place  of  Aristotle's  birth.  Amphipolis.  Phi- 
lippi,  famous  for  the  victory  gained  there  by  Augustus 
and  Antony  over  Brutus  and  Cassius.  Scotussa. 
Mount  Athos;  and  the  river  Strymon. 

The  Grecian  Isles. 

There  is  a  great  number  of  islands  contiguous  to 
Greece,  that  are  very  famous  in  history.  In  the  Ionian 
sea,  Corcyra,  with  a  town  of  the  same  name,  now 
called  Corfu.  Cephalene  and  Zacynthus,  now  Che- 
phalonia  and  Zante.  Ithaca,  the  country  of  Ulysses, 
and  Dulichium.  Near  the  promontory  Malea,  over- 
ngainst  Laconia,  is  Cythera.  In  the  Saronic  gulf,  are 
jEgina,  and  Salami's,  so  famous  for  the  sea-fight 
between  Xerxes  and  the  Grecians.  Between  Greece 
and  Asia  lie  the  Sporades;  and  the  Cvclades,  the 
most  noted  of  which  are  Andros,  Delos.  anil  Paros, 
whence  the  finest  marble  was  dug.  Higher  up  in  the 
^gean  sea  is  Fnboea,  now  Negropont,  separated  from 
the  main  land  bv  a  small  arm  of  the  sen.  called  F.nri- 
pus.  The  most  remarkable  city  of  this  isle  was  Chal- 
cis. Towards  the  north  is  Scyrus,  and  n  good  deal 
nigher  Lemnos,  now  called  Stalimene;  and  «till  far- 
ther, Samothrace.  Ix>wer  down  is  Lesbos,  whose 
principal  city  was  Mitylene,  from  whence  the  isle  has 
since  taken  the  name  of  Metelin.  Chios,  now  Scic, 
renowned  for  excellent  wine;  and,  lastly,  Samoa. 
Somr  of  these  last  mentioned  isles  are  reckoned  to 
belong  to  Asia. 

The  island  of  Crete,  orCandia,  i*  the  largest  of  all 
S 


206 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


the  is  es  c.ontigno  i*  3  jreece.  It  has  to  the  north  the 
•/K«ean  sea,  or  the  Arjhipelago;  and  t  the  south  the 
African  ocean.  Its  principal  towns  were,  Gortyna, 
CviJoii,  Gnossus;  its  mountains,  Dicte,  Ida,  and  Cory- 
Ciis.  Its  labyrinth  is  famous  over  all  the  world. 

The  Grecians  had  colonies  in  most  of  these  isles. 

They  had  likewise  settlements  in  Sicily,  and  in  part 
of  Itafy  towards  Cal°brii.  ivinch  places  are  for  that 
reason  called  Gnecia  M?°-.:s.' 

Hut  their  grand  settlement  was  in  Asia  Minor,  and 
particularly  in  jEolis,  Ionia,  and  Doris.*  The  prin- 
cipal towns  of  jEolis  are  Cumae,  Phocasa,  Elea.  Of 
Ionia,  Smyrna,  Clazomense,  Teos,  Lebedus,  Colo- 
phon, and  Ephesus.  Of  Doris,  Haliearnassus  and 
Cnidos. 

They  had  also  a  gteat  number  of  colonies  dispersed 
p  and"  down  in  different  paiU  of  the  world,  whereof 
I  shall  give  some  account  as  occasion  shall  offer. 

ARTICLE  II. 

DIVISION  OF  THE  GRECIAN  HISTORY  INTO  FOUR  SE- 
VERAL AGES. 

The  Grecian  history  may  be  divided  into  four  differ- 
ent ages,  marked  out  by  so  many  memorable  epochas, 
all  which  together  include  the  space  of  21 54  years. 

The  first  age  extends  from  the  foundation  of  the 
several  petty  kingdoms  of  Greece  (beginning  with 
that  of  Sicyon,  which  is  the  most  ancient)  to  the  siege 
3f  Troy,  and  comprehends  about  1000  years,  namely, 
from  the  year  of  the  world  1820  to  the  year  2820. 

The  second  extends  from  the  takingof  Troy  to  the 
reign  of  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  at  which  period 
the  Grecian  history  begins  to  be  intermixed  with  that 
of  the  Persians,  and  contains  the  space  of  663  years, 
roni  the  year  of  the  world  2820  to  the  year  3483. 

The  third  extends  from  the  beginning  of  the  reign 
){  Darius  to  the  death  of  Alexander  the  Great,  which 
is  the  finest  part  of  the  Grecian  history,  and  takes  in 
the  term  of  198  years,  from  the  year  of  the  world  3483 
:o  the  year  3681. 

The  fourth  and  last  age  commences  from  the  death 
of  Alexander,  at  which  time  the  Grecians  began  to 
decline,  and  continues  to  their  final  subjection  by  the 
Romans.  The  epocha  of  the  utter  ruin  and  downfall  of 
the  Greeks  may  be  dated,  partly  from  the  taking-  and 
destruction  of  Corinth  by  the  Consul  L.  Mnmmius,  in 
3858,  partly  from  the  extinction  of  the  kingdom  of  the 
Seleiic:da«  in  Asia  by  Pompey,  in  the  year  of  the 
world  3939,  and  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Lagidse  in 
Egypt  by  Augustus,  anno  m»m.  3974.  This  last  age 
includes  iii  all  293  years. 

Of  these  tour  ages,  I  shall  in  this  place  only  touch 
upon  the  first  two,  in  a  very  succinct  manner,  just  to 
give  the  reader  some  general  notion  of  that  obscure 
period;  because  those  times,  at  U-ast  a  great  part  of 
them,  have  more  of  fable  in  them  than  of  real  history, 
and  are  wrapt  up  in  such  darkness  and  obscurity,  as 
are  very  hard,  if  not  impossible,  to  penetrate;  and  I 
have  often  declared  already,  that  such  a  dark  and  la- 
borious inquiry,  though  very  useful  for  those  that  are 
anxious  to  make  deep  researches  into  history,  does 
not  come  within  the  plan  of  my  design. 

ARTICLE  III. 

THE   PRIMITIVE  ORIGIN   OF  THE  GRECIANS. 

In  order  to  arrive  at  any  certainty  with  respect  to 
the  first  origin  of  the  Grecian  nations,  we  must  neces- 
sarily have  recourse  to  the  accounts  we  have  of  it  in 
Holy  Scripture. 

Javan  or  Ion  (for  in  the  Hebrew  the  satne  letters 
differently  pointed  form  these  two  different  names.8) 
the  son  of  Japheth,  and  grandson  of  Noah,  was  cer- 
tainly the  father  of  all  those  nation*  that  went  under 
the  general  denomination  of  Greeks,  though  he  has 
been  looked  upon  as  the  father  of  the  lortians  only, 
whicn  were  but  one  particular  nation  of  Greeks.  Rut 
the  Hebrews,  the  Chaldeans,  Arabians. and  other*, give 
no  other  appellation  to  the  whole  body  of  the  Grecian 
nation*,  than  that  of  Ionian*.  And  for  this  reason 


•  Btrmb  I  ii.  p.  253.        •  Plin.  1.  ri.  c.  2.        t  Gen.  x.  2. 


Alexander,  in  the  predictions  of  Daniel,*  is  mentioned 
under  the  name  of  the  king  of  Javan .' 

Javan  had  tour  son*,6  Klishah,  Tarshish,  Chittim, 
and  Dodanim.  As  Javan  was  the  original  father  of 
the  Grecians  in  general,  without  doubt  his  four  sons 
were  the  heads  and  founders  of  the  chief  tribes  and 
principal  branches  of  that  nation,  which  became  in 
succeeding  ages  so  renownej  for  arts  and  arms. 

Elishah  is  the  same  as  Kllas,  as  it  is  rendered  in  the 
Chaldee  translation,  and  the  word  'Ex**"*,  which  was 
used  as  the  common  appellation  of  the  whole  people, 
in  the  satne  manner  as  the  word  'Exxas  was  of  th« 
whole  country,  has  no  olherderivation.  The  very  an« 
cient  city  of  Elis,  in  Peloponnesus,  the  Elysian  neldi, 
the  river  Elissus,  or  Illissus,  have  long  retained  the 
marks  of  their  being  derived  from  Elishah,  and  have 
contributed  more  to  preserve  hi*  memory,  than  the 
historians  themselves  of  the  nation,  who  were  inquisi- 
tive after  foreign  affairs,  and  but  little  acquaint' -d  with 
their  own  original ;  as  they  had  little  or  no  knowledge 
of  the  true  religion,  and  did  not  carry  their  inquiries 
so  high.  Upon  which  account,  they  themselves  de- 
rived the  words  Helle*neS  and  lones  from  another 
fountain,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel ;  for  I  think  my- 
self obliged  to  give  some  account  of  their  opinions 
also  in  this  respect. 

Tarshish  was  the  second  son  of  Javan.  He  settled, 
as  his  brethren  did,  in  some  part  of  Greece,  perhaps 
in  Achaia,  or  the  neighbouring  provinces,  as  Elishah. 
did  in  Peloponnesus. 

It  is  not  to  be  doubted  but  that  Chittim  was  the  fa- 
ther  of  the  Macedonians,  according  to  the  authority 
of  the  first  book  of  the  Maccabees,7  in  the  beginning 
of  which  it  is  said,  that  Alexander,  the  son  of  Philip 
the  Macedonian,  went  out  of  his  country,  which  was 
that  of  Cctthim8  [or  Chittim,]  to  make  war  against 
Darius,  king  of  Persia.  And  in  the  eighth  chapter, 
speaking  of  the  Romans  and  their  victories  over  the 
last  kings  of  Macedonia,  Philip  and  Perseus,9  the  two 
last  mentioned  princes  are  called  kings  of  the  Chit 
tints. 

Dodanim.  It  is  very  probable,  that  Thessaly  and 
Epiru*  were  the  portion  of  the  fourth  ion  of  Javan 
The  impious  worship  of  Jupiter  of  Dodona,  as  well 
as  the  city  Dodona  '0  itself,  are  proofs  that  some  r« 
membrance  of  Dodanim  had  remained  with  the  peo 
pie,  who  derived  their  first  establishment  and  origin 
from  him. 

This  is  all  that  can  be  said  with  any  certainty  con- 
cerning the  origin  of  the  Grecian  nations.  The  Holy 
Scripture,  whose  design  is  not  to  satisfy  our  curiosity, 
but  to  nourish  and  improve  our  piety,  after  scattering 
these  few  rays  of  light,  leaves  us  in  utter  darkness 
concerning  the  rest  of  their  history:  which  therefore 
can  be  collected  only  from  profane  authors. 

If  we  may  believe  Pliny,"  the  Grecians  were  so 
called  from  the  name  of  an  ancient  king,  of  whom 
they  had  but  a  very  uncertain  tradition.  Homer,  in 
his  poems,  calls  them  Hellenes,  Danai,  Argives,  ant 
Achaians.  It  is  observable,  that  the  word  Gracns  is 
not  once  used  in  Virgil. 

The  exceeding  rusticity  of  the  first  Grecians  would 
appear  incredible,  if  we  could  call  in  question  the  tes- 
timony of  their  own  historians  upon  that  point.  But 
a  people  so  vain  of  their  origin  as  to  adorn  it  by  fic- 
tion and  fables,  would  never  think  of  inventing  any 
thing  in  its  disparagement.  Who  would  imagine  that 
the  people, '8  to  whom  the  world  is  indebted  for  all  her 
knowledge,  in  literature  and  the  sciences,  should  b« 
descended  from  mere  savages,  who  knew  no  other  law 
than  force,  were  ignorant  even  of  agriculture,  nnr)  fef 
on  herbs  and  roots  like  the  brute  beasts?  And  ye( 
this  appears  plainly  to  be  the  case,  from  the  dinn* 
honours  they  decreed  to  the  person18  who  first  taught 


<  Dan.  viii.  21. 

•  Hire**  raprarum  rex  Gratia;  in  the  Hebrew,  rex 
»•».  •  Gen.  x.  4.  '1  Mace.  i.  1 

•  Foreman  rte  fprrt  Cethim. 

•  Philippum  et  Perspum  Cethpornm  rtgem.    Vcr.  5. 


phanim  •«  Lib.  Iv.  c.  7. 

>*  Pnusan.  1.  viii.  p.  455,  456.  «»  Pc!aigu«. 


Sir 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


207 


then,  to  feed  opon  acorns  as  a  more  delicate  and  whole- 
•ome  nourishment  than  herb*.  There  was  still  a  great 
distance  from  this  first  improvement  to  a  state  of  ur- 
banity and  politeness.  IVor  did  the;-  indeed  arrive  at 
the  Utter,  till  alter  a  long  proress  of  time. 

The  weakest  were  not  the  last  to  understand  the 
necessity  of  living  together  in  society,  in  order  to  de- 
fend themselves  against  violence  -ind  oppression.  At 
first  they  built  single  houses  at  A  distance  from  one 
another;  the  number  of  which  insensibly  increasing, 
formed  in  time  towns  and  cities.  But  the  bare  living 
together  in  society  was  not  sufficient  to  polish  such  a 
people.  Egypt  and  Phoenicia  had  the  honour  of  doing 
this.  Both  these  nations  contributed  to  instruct  and 
civilize  the  Grecians,1  by  the  colonies  they  sent  among 
them.  The  latter  taught  thein  navigation,  writing,  and 
commerce;  the  former,  the  knowledge  of  their  laws 
and  polity,  gave  them  a  taste  for  arts  and  sciences, 
and  initiated  them  into  her  mysteries. 

Greece,2  in  her  infant  state,  was  exposed  to  great 
commotions  and  frequent  revolutions;  because,  as  the 
people  had  no  settled  correspondence,  and  no  superior 
power  to  give  laws  to  the  rest,  every  thing  was  deter- 
mined by  force  and  violence.  The  strongest  invaded 
the  lands  of  their  neighbours,  which  they  thought  more 
fertile  and  delightful  than  their  own,  and  dispossessed 
the  lawful  owners,  who  were  obliged  to  seek  new  set- 
tlements elsewhere.  As  Attica  was  a  dry  and  barren 
:otinlry,  its  inhabitants  had  not  the  same  invasions 
and  outrages  to  fear,  and  therefore  consequently  kept 
themselves  in  possession  of  their  ancient  territories; 
for  which  reason  they  took  the  name  of  «*T*x*«««, 
that  is,  men  born  in  the  country  where  they  lived,  to 
distinguish  themselves  from  the  rest  of  the  nations, 
that  had  almost  all  transplanted  themselves  from  place 
'o  place. 

Such  were  in  general  the  first  beginnings  of  Greece. 
We  must  now  enter  into  a  more  particular  detail, 
and  give  a  brief  account  of  the  establishment  of  the 
several  different  states  whereof  the  whole  country 
consisted. 

ARTICLE  IV. 

THE  DIFFERENT  STATES  INTO   WHICH  GREECE  WAS 

DIVIDED. 

In  those  early  times  kingdoms  were  but  inconside- 
rable, and  of  very  small  extent,  the  title  of  kingdom 
beins:  often  given  to  a  single  city,  with  a  few  league* 
of  land  depending- upon  it. 

SICYOX.    The  most  ancient  king- 

A.  M.  1915.     dom  of  Greece  was  that  of  Sicyon; 

Ant.  J.  C.  2089.     whose  beginning  is  placed  by'Eu- 

sebius*  1313  years  before  the  first 

Olympiad.    Its  duration  is  belie-^d  to  have  been  1000 

years. 

ARGOS.    The  kingdom  of  Ar<ros, 

A.  M.  2148.     in  Peloponnesus,  began  lOSOyear* 

Ant.  J.  C.  1856.     before  the    first  Olympiad,  in  the 

,  time  of  Abraham.     The  first  kinp 

of  it   was   INACHI'S.     His   successors   were,   his  son 

PHOROMEVS:  APIS:  ARGUS,  from  whom  the  country 

took    its  name;  and  after  several    others,  GELANOR, 

who    was   dethroned    and    expelled   his  kingdom  by 

DANAUS.  the  Egyptian.     The  suc- 

A.  M.  2530.     cessors  of  this  last  were  LYNCET78, 

Ant.  J.  C.  1-17-1.     the  son  of  his  brother  jEgyptus,  who 

alcr.e  of  fiftv  brother*,  escaped  the 

cruelty  of  the  Danaides;  theii  ABAS,  PROTEUS,  and 

AcRisrrs. 

Of  Danae.  daughter  to  the  last,  was  bom  Perseus, 
who  having,  when  he  was  grown  up,  unfortunately 
killed  his  grandfather  Acrisius,  and  not  being  able  to 
bear  the  sight  of  Argos,  where  he  committed  that  in- 
voluntary murder,  withdrew  to  Mycenae,  and  there 
fixed  the  seat  of  his  kingdom. 

MvrKT.-.T..  Perseus  then  translated  the  ieat  of  the 
kingdom  from  Argos  to  Mycenae.  He  left  several  cons 
behind  him;  among  others,  Alcaeus,  Sthenelus,  and 
Electryon.  Alcaeus  was  the  father  of  Amphitryon; 

i  Herod.  1.  U.  c.  58. 1.  r.  r.  58—60.  Plin.  I.  r.  e.  M.  1.  ri». 
e.  56.  »  Thucyd.  lib.  i.  p.  8. 

i  Euteb  n  Chroo. 


Sthenelnsof  Enrystheog;  and  Electrvon  of  Alcmena. 
Amphitryon  married  Alcmena,  upon  whom  Jupitei 
begat  Hercules. 

Eurystheus  and  Hercules  came  into  the  world  th« 
same  day;  but  as  the  birth  of  the  former  WHS  by  Ju- 
no's management  antecedent  to  that  of  the  latter 
Hercules  was  forced  to  be  subject  to  him,  and  was 
obliged  by  hisordrr  to  undertake  the  twelve  labours, 
so  celebrated  in  fabulous  history. 

The  kings  who  reigned  at  IVIycenae,  after  Perseus, 
were,  KI.ECTRYOJS',  STHK.NLI.US.  ami  KVHYSTHEUS. 
The  last,  after  the  death  of  Hercules,  declared  open 
war  against  his  descendants,  Pjiprehending  they  might 
some  time  or  other  attempt  to  dethrone  him;  which, 
as  it  happened,  was  done  by  the  Keraclidas;  for,  hav- 
ing killed  Eurystheus  in  battle,  they  entered  victorious 
into  Peloponnesus,  and  made  themselves  masters  of 
the  country.  But  as  this  happened  before  the  time 
determined  by  fate,  a  plague  ensued,  which,  with  tht 
direction  of  an  oracle,  obliged  them  to  quit  the  coun- 
try. Three  years  after  this,  being  deceived  by  the  am- 
biguous expression  of  the  oracle,  they  made  a  second 
attempt,  which  likewise  proved  fruitless.  Th:»  was 
about  twenty  years  before  the  taking  of  Troy. 

ATREUS,  the  son  of  Pelops,  uncle  by  the  mother's 
side  to  Euryslheus,  was  the  letter's  successor.  And 
in  this  manner  the  crown  came  to  the  descendants  of 
Pelops,  from  whom  Peloponnesus,  which  before  was 
called  Apia,  derived  its  name.  The  bloody  hatred  of 
the  two  brothers,  Atreus  and  Thyestes,  is  known  to 
all  the  world. 

PLISTHENES,  the  son  of  Atrens,  succeeded  his  fa- 
ther in  the  kingdom  of  Mycenae,  which  he  left  to  his 
son  AGAMEMNON,  who  was  succeeded  by  his  son 
ORESTES.  The  kingdom  of  Mycenas  was  filled  with 
enormous  and  horrible  crimes,  from  the  time  it  came 
into  the  family  of  Pelops. 

TisiME.MEs'antl  PENTHII.US,  sons  of  Orestes,  reign- 
ed  after  their  father,  and  were  at  last  driven  out  of 
Peloponnesus  by  the  Heraclidas. 

ATHENS.    CECROPS,  a  native  of 
Egypt,  was  the  founder  of  this  king-          A.  M.  24-48. 
dom.     Having  settled  in  Attica,  he     Ant.  J.  C.  1556. 
divided  all  the  country  subject  to 
him  into  twelve  districts,     lie  it  was  who  established 
the  Areopagus. 

This  august  tribunal,  in  the  reign  of  his  successor 
CRANAUS,  adjudged  the  famous  difference  between 
Neptune  and  Mars.  In  his  time  happened  Deucalion's 
flood.  The  deluge  of  Ogvges  in  Attica  was  much 
more  ancient,  and  happened  1020  years  before  the  first 
Olympiad,  and  consequently  in  tfie  year  of  the  world 
2208. 

AMPHICTYON,  the  third  king  of  Athens,  procured  a 
confederacy  between  twelve  nations,  which  assembled 
twice  a  year  at  Thermopylae,  there  to  offer  their  com- 
mon sacrifices,  and  to  consult  together  upon  their  af- 
fairs in  general,  as  also  upon  the  affairs  of  each  nation 
in  particular.  This  convention  was  called  the  assem 
bly  of  the  Amphictvons. 

"The  reign  of  ERECHTHEUS  is  remarkable  for  the 
arrival  of  Ceres  in  Attica,  after  the  rape  of  her  daugh- 
ter Proserpine,  as  also  for  the  institution  of  the  mys- 
teries at  Fleusis. 

The  reign  of  JEGErs,  the  son  of 
Pandion,  is  the  most  illustrious  pe-  A.  M.  272dr. 

riod  of  the  history  of  the  heroes.  In     Ant.  J.  C.  1284- 
his  time  are  placed  the  expedition 
of  the  Argonauts;  the  celebrated  labours  of  Hercules; 
the  war  of  Minos,  second  king  of  Crete,  against  the 
Athenians;  the  story  of  Theseus  and  Ariadne. 

THFSEUS  succeeded  his  father  JEgeas.  Cecrop* 
had  divided  Attica  into  twelve  boroughs,  or  twelve 
districts,  separated  from  each  other.  Theseus  brought 
the  people  to  understand  the  advantages  o»'  common 
government,  and  united  the  twelve  boroughs  into  OM 
city  or  body  politic,  in  which  the  whole  authority  was 
united. 

CoDRUS  was  the  last  king  of  Athens:  he  devoted 
himself  to  die  for  his  people. 

After  him  the  title  of  king  was 
extinguished  among  the  Athenians.  A.  M.  2934. 

MEDON,  his  son,  was  set  at  the  head     Ant.  J.  C.  1070 


208 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


of  the  commonwealth,  with  the  title  of  Archon,  that  is 
to  -ay,  president  or  governor.  The  first  Archontes 
were"  for  life;  but  the  Athenians,  growing  weary  of  a 
government  which  they  still  thought  bore  too  great 
a  resemblance  to  royal' power,  made  their  Archontes 
elective  every  ten  years,  and  at  last  reduced  it  to  an 
annual  office. 

THEBES.     Cadmus,  who    came 

A.  M.  2549.     by  sea  from  the  coast  of  Phoenicia, 

Ant.  J.  C.  1455.     that  is,  from  about  Tyre  and  Sidon, 

seized  upon  that  part  of  the  country 

which  was  afterwards  called  Bueotia.     He  built  there 

the  city  of  Thebes,  or  at  least  a  citadel,  which,  'rom 

his  own  name  he  called  Cadmea,  and  there  fixed  the 

seat  of  his  power  and  dominion. 

The  fatal  mi-fortune  of  Laius,  one  of  his  success- 
ors, and  of  Jocasta  his  wife,  of  CEdipus  their  son,  of 
Etocles  and  Polynices,  who  were  born  of  the  inces- 
tuous marriage  of  Jocasta  with  CEdipus,  have  furnish- 
ed ample  matter  for  fabulous  narration  and  theatrical 
representations. 

SFARTA,  or  LACEIXJEMON.  It  is  supposed,  that 
LELEX,  the  first  king  of  Laconia,  began  his  reign 
about  1516  years  before  the  Christian  era. 

TYNDARUS,  the  ninth  king  of  Lacedaemon,  had  by 
Leda,  Castor  and  Pollux,  who  were  twins,  besides 
Helena  and  Clytemnestra  the  wife  of  Agamemnon, 
king  oi  Mycenae.  Having  survived  his  two  sons,  the 
twins,  he  began  to  think  of  choosing  a  successor,  by- 
looking  out  for  a  husband  for  his  daughter  Helena. 
All  the  suitors  to  this  princess  bound  themselves  by 
oath,  to  abide  by  and  entirely  to  submit  to,  the  choice 
which  the  lady  herself  should  make,  who  determined 
in  favour  of  Menelaus.  She  had  not  lived  above^hree 
years  with  her  husband,  before  she  was  carried  off  by 
Alexander  or  Paris,  son  of  Priam,  king  of  the  Trojans; 
which  rape  was  the  cause  of  the  Trojan  war.  Greece 
did  not  properly  begin  to  know  or  experience  her 
united  strength,  till  the  famous  siege  of  that  city,  where 
Achilles,  the  Ajaxes,  Nestor,  and  Ulysses,  gave  Asia 
julh'cient  reason  to  forbode  her  future  subjection  to 
their  posterity.  The  Greeks  took  Trov  after  a  ten 
years'  siege,  much  about  the  time  that  Jepthah  gov- 
erned the  people  of  God;  that  is,  according  to  Arch- 
bishop Usher,  in  the  year  of  the  world  2820,  and  1184 
j-«ars  before  Jesus  Christ.  This  epocha  is  famous  in 
history,  and  should  carefully  be  remembered,  as  well 
as  ihit  of  the  Olympiads. 

An  Olympiad  is  the  revolution  of  four  complete 
years,  from  one  celebration  of  the  Olympic  games  to 
the  other.  We  have  elsewhere  given  an  account  of 
the  institution  of  these  games,  which  were  celebrated 
every  four  years,  near  the  town  of  Pisa,  otherwise 
ci.llcd  Olympia. 

The  common  era  of  the  Olympiads  begins  in  the 
summer  of  the  year  of  the  world  3228,  776  years  be- 
fore Jesus  Christ,  from  the  games  in  which  Corcbus 
won  the  prize  in  the  foot-race. 

Four-score  years  after  the  taking  of  Troy,  the  He- 
raclidse  re-entered  Peloponnesus,  and  seized  Lacedae- 
mon,  where  two  brothers,  Eurysthenes  and  Procles, 
*ons  of  Aristodemus,  began  to  reign  together,  and 
from  their  time  the  sceptre  always  continued  jointly  in 
the  hands  of  the  descendants  of  those  two  famifies. 
Many  years  after  this,  Lycurgus  instituted  that  body 
of  laws  for  the  Spartan  state,  which  rendered  both 
the  legislator  and  republic  so  famous  in  history:  I 
shall  speak  of  them  at  large  in  the  sequel. 

CORINTH.     Corinth  began  later 
A.  M.  2fi2R.     than    the  other  cities  I  have  been 
Ant.  J.  C.  1376.    speaking   of,    to   be    governed  by 
kinjfs  of  its  own.      It   was  at  first 
subject  to  those  of  Argos  and  Mycenae;  at  last,  Sisy- 
phus, the  son  of  jEolus,  made  himself  master  of  it. 
But  his  descendants  were  dispossessed  of  the  throne 
by  the  HerRclidae,  about  110  years  after  the  siege  of 
Troy. 

The  res:al  power,  after  this,  came  to  the  descendants 
of  Bacchis,  jnder  whom  the  monarchy  was  changed 
into  an  aristocracy,  that  is,  the  reins  of  the  govern- 
ment were  in  the  hands  of  the  elders,  who  annually 
fSose  from  among  themselves  a  chief  magistrate, 
wnom  they  called  Prytanis.  At  last  Cypselus  having 


gained  the  people,  usurped  the  supreme  authority 
which  he  transmitted  to  his  son  Periander;  who  hi-ld 
a  distinguished  rank  among  the  Grecian  sages,  on  ac- 
count ol  the  love  he  bore  to  learning,  and  the  protec- 
tion and  encouragement  he  gave  to  learned  men. 

MACEDONIA.     It  was  a  long  time 
before  the  Greeks  paid  any  great  A.  M.  3191. 

attention  to  Macedonia.  Her  kings,  Ant.  J.  C.  1813. 
living  retired  in  woods  and  moun- 
tains, seemed  not  to  be  considered  as  a  part  of  Greece. 
They  pretended  that  their  kings,  of  whom  CARANUS 
was  the  first,  were  descended  Irora  Hercules.  Philip, 
and  his  son  Alexander,  raised  the  glory  of  this  king- 
dom to  a  very  high  pitch.  It  had  subsisted  471  yean 
before  the  death  of  Alexander,  and  continue  I  IS! 
more,  till  Perseus  was  defeated  and  taken  by  th« 
Romans;  in  all,  626  years. 

ARTICLE  V. 

COLONIES    OF  THE  GREEKS    SENT  INTO  ASIA  MINOR. 

We  have  already  observed,  that  fourscore  years  af-, 
ter  the  taking  of  Troy,  the  Heraclidae  recovered  Pe 
loponnesus,  after  having  defeated  the  Pelopidaj  that 
is  Tisamenes  and  Penthilus,  sons  of  Orestes;  and  ..ha* 
they  divided  the  kingdoms  of  Mycenae,  Argos,  and 
Lacedacmon,  among  themselves. 

So  great  a  revolution  as  this  changed  almost  the 
whole  face  of  the  country,  and  made  way  for  several 
very  famous  transmigrations.  To  understand  these 
the  better,  and  to  have  the  clearer  idea  of  the  situation 
of  many  of  the  Grecian  nations,  as  also  of  the  four 
dialects,  or  different  idioms  of  speech,  that  prevailed 
among  them,  it  will  be  necessary  to  look  a  little  far- 
ther back  into  history. 

Deucalion,1  who  reigned  in  Thessaly,  and  under 
whom  happened  the  flood  that  bears  his  name,  had  by 
Pyrrha  his  wife  two  sons,  Hellen  and  Amphictyon. 
The  latter,  having  driven  Cranaus  out  of  Athens, 
reigned  there  in  his  place.  Hellen,  if  we  may  beli<  ve 
the  historians  of  his  country,  gave  the  name  of  Helle- 
nes to  the  Greeks:  he  had  three  sons,  jEolus,  Doius, 
and  Xnthus. 

jEolus,  who  was  the  eldest,  succeeded  his  father,  and 
besides  Thessaly,  had  Locris  and  Boeotia  added  to 
his  dominions.  Several  of  his  descendants  went  into 
Peloponnesus  with  Pelops,  the  son  of  Tantalum,  king 
of  Phrygia,  from  whom  Peloponnesus  took  its  name, 
and  settled  themselves  in  Laconia. 

The  country  contiguous  to  Parnassus  fell  to  the 
share  of  Dorus,  and  from  him  was  called  Doris. 

Xuthus,  compelled  by  his  brothers,  upon  some  pri- 
vate quarrel,  to  quit  his  country,  retired  into  Attica, 
where  he  married  the  daughter  of  Erechtheus,  king 
of  the  Athenians,  by  whom  he  had  two  sons,  Achaeus 
and  Ion. 

An  involuntary  murder  committed  by  Achasus, 
obliged  him  to  retire  to  Peloponnesus,  which  was  then 
called  Egialaea,  of  which  one  part  was  from  him  called 
Achaia.  His  descendants  settled  at  I.acedaeftion. 

Ion,  having  signalized  himself  by  his  victories,  wai 

invited  by  the  Athenians  to  govern  their   city,  and 

'  gave  his  name  to  the  country;  for  the  inhabitants  of 

!  Attica  were  likewise  called  lonians.     The  number  of 

the    citizens    increased  to    such  a  degrte,    that    the 

Athenians  were  obliged  to  send  a  colony  of  lonians 

into  Peloponnesus,  who  likewise  gave  their  name  to 

the  country  they  possessed. 

Thus  all" the  inhabitants  of  Peloponnesus,  though 
composed  of  different  people,  were  united  under  the 
names  of  Achseans  and  lonians. 

The  Heraclidae,  fourscore  yetrs  after  the  taking  ot 
Troy,  resolved  seriously  to  recover  Peloponnesus, 
which,  they  imagined,  of  right  belonged  to  them. 
They  had  three  principal  leaders,  sons  of  Aristoma- 
chus",  namely,  Temenus,  Cresphontes,  and  Aristo.le- 
mus;  the  last  dying,  his  two  sons,  Eurysthenes  aod 
Procles,  succeeded  him.  The  success  of  their  expedi- 
tion was  as  happy  as  their  motive  was  just,  and  they 
recovered  the  possession  of  their  ancient  domain 


«  8tr«b.  I.  rili.  p.  383,  fce.     Pan»»n.  1.  yii.  p.  390,  fcc. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


209 


Argrn  tell  to  Temenus,  Messenialo  Chresphontes,  and 
Laconia  to  the  two  sons  of  Aristoderuus. 

Such  of  the  Achjeans  as  were  descended  from  ^Eolus, 
and  liail  hitherto  inhabited  Laconia,  being  driven  from 
thenre  bv  the  Dorians,  who  accompanied  the  Hera- 
clitia:  into  Peloponncso*,  after  some  wandering,  set- 
tled in  that  part  of  Asia  Minorwhich  from  them  took 
the  name  of  jEolus,  where  they  founded  Smyrna,  and 
eleven  other  cities:  but  the  city  of  Smyrna  came  after- 
wards into  the  hands  of  the  lonians.  The  jEolians 
became  likewise  possessed  of  several  cities  of  Lesbos. 

As  for  the  Achseans  of  Mycenre  and  Argos,  being 
compelled  to  abandon  their  country  to  the  Hernclid*. 
thev  seized  upon  that  of  the  lomans,  who  dwelt  at 
tbit  time  in  a  part  if  Peloponnesus.  The  latter  fled 
•t  fir=t  to  Athens,  their  original  country,  from  whence 
they  some  time  afterwards  departed  under  the  conduct 
of  N  (' us  and  Androcle-i,  both  sons  of  Cpclrus,  and 
seized  upon  that  part  of  the  coast  of  Asia  Minor  which 
lies  between  Caria  and  Lydia,  and  from  them  was 
named  Ionia;  here  thev  built  twelve  cities,  Ephesus, 
dnnniente,  Santos,  &c. 

The  power  of  the  Athenians,1  who  had  then  Codrus 
for  their  kins:,  being  very  much  augmented  by  the 
great  number  of  refugees  that  had  fled  into  their 
country,  the  Heraclidte  thought  proper  to  oppose  the 
progress  of  their  power,  and  for  that  reason  made  war 
upon  them.  The  latter  were  worsted  in  a  battle,  but 
(till  remained  masters  of  Megaris,  where  they  built 
Megarn,and  settled  the  Dorians  in  that  country  in  the 
room  of  the  Ionian?. 

One  part  of  the  Dorians  continued  in  the  country 
after  the  death  of  Codrus,1  another  went  to  Crete :  the 
greatest  number  settled  in  that  part  of  Asia  Minor 
which  from  them  was  called  Doris,  where  they  built 
Ilalicarnassus,  Cnidus,  and  other  cities,  and  made 
t'wmiselves  masters  of  the  island  of  Rhodes,  Cos,  <fcc. 

The  Grecian  Dialects. 

It  will  now  be  more  easy  to  understand  what  we 
have  to  say  concerning  the  several  Grecian  dialects. 
These  were  four  in  number:  the  Attic,  the  Ionic,  the 
Doric,  and  the  jEolic.  Thev  were  in  reality  four  dif- 
ferent languages,  each  of  them  perfect  in  its  kind,  and 
used  by  a  distinct  nation;  but  yet  all  derived  from, 
and  grounded  upon,  the  name  original  tongue.  And 
this  diversity  of  languages  can  no  ways  appear  won- 
derf.il  in  a  country  where  the  inhabitants  consisted 
of  different  nations,  that  did  not  depend  upon  one 
another,  but  had  each  its  particular  territories. 

1.  The  Attic   dialect   is  that  which    was    used    in 
Athens,  and   the  country  round  about.     This  dialect 
has  been   chiefly  used   by  Thucydides,  Aristophanes, 
Plato.  Isocrates,  Xenophon,  and  Demosthenes. 

2.  The  Ionic  dialect  was  almost  the  same  with  the 
ancient  Attic:  hut   after   it  had   passed    into  several 
towns  of  Asia  Minor,  and    into  the  adjacent  islands, 
which  were  colonies  of  the  Athenians,  and  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Achaia,  it  received  a  sort  of  new  tincture,  and 
did   not  come  up  to  that  perfect  delicacy  which  the 
Athenians    afterwards    attained.      Hippocrates  and 
fferodotM  wrote  in  this  dialect. 

3.  The  Doric  was  first  in  use  among  the  Spartans, 
and  the  people  of  Argos:  it   passed  afterwards  into 
F.pirus,    Libra,  Sicily,  Rhodes,  and    Crete.     Archi- 
medes and  Theocritus,  both  of  them  Svracusans,  and 
Pindar,  followed  this  dialect. 

4.  The  ,£olic  dialect  was  at  first  u«ed  by  the  Boeo- 
tians and    their   neighbour?,  and    then    in  ^clis,    a 
country  in   A«ia  Minor,  between  Ionia    and  Mysia, 
which  contained  ten  or  twelve  cities,  that  were  Gre- 
cian colonies.     Sappho  and    Alcspus  of  whose  works 
very  little  remains,  wrote  in  this  dialect.   We  find  also 
a  mixture  of  it  in  the  writings  of  Theocritus,  Pindar, 
Homer,  and  many  others. 

ARTICLE  VI. 

THE    RF.rUBLTCAN  FORM   OF  GOVERNMENT  ALMOST 

GENFRU.T.Y  ESTABLISHED  THROUGHOUT  GREECE. 

The  reader  may  have  observed,  in  the  little  I  have 

•aid  about  the  several  settlements  of  Greece,  that  the 


. 
VOL.  I.— 27 


•  Ibid.  p.  653. 


primordial  grounds  of  all  those  different  states  wai 
monarchical  government,  the  most  ancient  of  all 
forms  the  most  univel sally  received  and  established, 
the  most  proper  to  maintain  peace  and  concord;  and 
which,  as  Plato  observes,3  is  formed  upon  the  model 
of  paternal  authority,  and  of  that  gentle  and  moderate 
dominion,  which  fathers  exercise  over  their  families. 

But  as  the  state  of  things  degenerated  by  decrees, 
through  the  injustice  of  usurpers,  the  severity  of  law- 
ful masters,  the  insurrections  of  the  people,  and  a 
thousand  accidents  and  revolutions,  that  happened  in 
those  states;  a  totally  different  spirit  seized  the  peo- 
ple, which  prevailed  all  overGreece,  kindled  a  violent 
desire  of  liberty,  ond  brought  about  a  general  change 
of  government  every  where,  except  in  Macedonia;  so 
that  monarchy  gave  way  to  a  republican  government, 
which  however  was  diversified  into  almost  as  manj 
various  forms  as  there  were  different  cities,  according 
to  the  different  genins  and  peculiar  character  of  each 
people.  However,  there  still  remained  a  kind  of  tinc- 
ture or  leaven  of  the  ancient  monarchical  government, 
which  from  time  to  time  inflamed  the  ambition  of  ma- 
ny private  citizens,  and  made  them  desire  to  become 
masters  of  their  country.  In  almost  every  one  of  these 
pettv  states  of  Greece,  some  private  persons  arose, 
who"  without  any  right  to  the  throne,  either  hy  birth, 
or  election  of  the  citizens,  endeavoured  to  advance 
themselves  to  it  by  cabal,  treachery,  and  violence; 
and  who,  without  any  respect  for  the  laws,  or  regard 
to  the  public  good,  exercised  a  sovereign  authority, 
with  a  despotic  empire  and  arbitrary  swav.  In  order 
to  support  their  unjust  usurpations  in  the  midst  of 
distrusts  and  alarms,  they  thought  themselves  obliged 
to  prevent  imaginary,  or  to  suppress  real  conspiracies, 
by  the  must  cruel  proscriptions;  and  to  sacrifice  to 
their  own  security  all  those  whom  merit,  rank,  wealth, 
leal  for  liberty, "or  love  of  their  country,  rendered 
obnoxious  to  a  suspicious  and  tottet  ing  government, 
which  found  itself  hated  by  all,  and  was  sensible  it 
deserved  to  be  so.  It  was  this  cruel  and  inhuman 
treatment  that  rendered  these  men  so  odious,  under 
the  appellation  of  Tyrants,4  a'.id  which  furnished  such 
ample  matter  for  the  declamation  of  orators,  and  the 
tragical  representations  of  the  theatre. 

All  these  cities  and  districts  of  Greece,  that  seemed 
so  entirely  disjointed  from  one  another  by  their  laws, 
customs,  and  interests,  were  nevertheless  formed  and 
combined  into  one  sole,  entire,  and  united  body; 
whose  strength  increased  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  mate 
the  formidable  power  of  the  Persians  under  Dariu* 
and  Xerxes  tremble;  and  which  even  then,  perhaps, 
would  have  entirely  overthrown  the  Persian  greatness, 
had  the  Grecian  states  been  wise  enough  to  preserve 
that  union  and  concord  among  themselves,  which  af- 
terwards rendered  them  invincible.  This  is  the  scene 
which  I  am  now  to  open,  and  which  certainly  merits 
the  reader's  whole  attention. 

We  shall  see,  in  the  following  books,  a  small  na- 
tion, confined  within  a  country  not  equal  to  the  fourth 
part  of  France,  disputing  for  dominion  with  the  most 
powerful  empire  then  upon  the  earth;  and  we  shall 
see  this  handful  of  men,  not  only  making  head  against 
the  innumerable  army  of  the  Persian?,  but  dispersing, 
routing,  and  cutting  them  to  pieces,  and  sometime* 
reducing  the  Persian  pride  so  low,  as  to  make  them 
submit  to  conditions  of  peace,  as  shameful  to  the  con- 
quered, as  glorious  for  the  conquerors. 

'Among  the  cities  of  Greece,  there  were  two  that 
particularly  distinguished  themselves,  and  acquired  an 
authority  and  a  kind  of  superiority  over  the  rest,  solelr 
by  their  merit  and  conduct:  these  two  were  La.-edze- 
mon  and  Athens. — As  these  cities  make  a  considera- 
ble figure,  and  act  an  illustrious  part  in  the  en«uing 
history,  before  I  enter  upon  particulars,  I  think  I  ought 
first  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  geniu«,  cha- 
racter, manner',  and  government,  of  their  respective 
inhabitants.  Plutarch,  in  the  lives  of  Lycurgus  and 
Solon,  will  furnish  me  with  the  greatest  part  of  what 
I  have  to  say  upon  this  head. 


•  Wat.  de  LP?.  1.  Hi.  p.  6HO. 

*  Thin  word  criminally  signified  no  more  that  kmj ,  tud 
mi  tnetentlY  the  title  at  lawful  prince*. 

•  2 


210 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


ARTICLE  VII. 

THE  SPARTAN  GOVERNMENT.      LAWS  ESTABLISHED 
BY   LYCUR3OS. 

There  is  perhaps  nothing  in  profane  history  better 
attested,  and  at  the  same  time  more  incredible,  than 
what  relates  to  the  government  of  Sparta,  and  the  dis- 
cipline established  Tn  it  by  Lycurgus.  This  legislator 
was  the  son  of  Eunomus,1  one  of  the  two  kings  who 
reigned  together  in  Sparta.  It  would  have  been  easy 
for  Lycunjus  to  have  ascended  the  throne  after  the 
death  of  his  eldest  brother,  who  left  no  son  behind 
him;  and  in  fact  he  was  king  for  some  days.  But,  as 
coon  as  his  sister-in-law  was  found  to  be  with  child, 
he  declared  that  the  crown  belonged  to  her  son,  if  she 
had  one;  and  from  thenceforth  he  governed  the  king- 
dom ohly  as  his  guardian.  In  the  mean  time,  the  widow 
gave  him  secretly  to  understand,  that  if  he  would 
promise  to  marry  her  when  he  was  king,  she  would 
destroy  the  fruit  of  her  womb.  So  detestable  a  pro- 
posal struck  Lycurgus  with  horror;  however,  he  con- 
cealed his  indignation,  and  amusing  the  woman  with 
different  pretences,  so  managed  it,  that  she  went  her 
full  time,  and  was  delivered.  As  soon  as  the  child' 
was  born,  he  proclaimed  him  king,  and  took  care  to 
have  him  brought  up  and  educated  in  a  proper  manner. 
This  prince,  on  account  of  the  joy  which  the  people 
testified  at  his  birth,  was  named  Charilaus. 

The  state  wa»  at  this  time  in  great  disorder;2  the 
authority,  both  of  the  kings  and  the  laws,  being  abso- 
lutely despised  and  disregarded.  No  curb  was  strong 
enough  to  restrain  the  audaciousness  of  the  people, 
which  every  day  increased  more  and  more. 

Lycurgus  formed  the  bold  design  of  making  a 
thorough  reformation  in  the  Spartan  government;  and 
to  be  the  more  capable  of  making  wise  regulations,  he 
thought  fit  to  travel  into  several  countries,  in  order  to 
acquaint  himself  with  the  different  manners  of  other 
nation*,  and  to  consult  the  most  able  and  experienced 
persons  in  the  art  of  government.  He  began  with  the 
island  of  Crete,  whose  harsh  and  austere  laws  are 
yery  famous;  from  thence  he  passed  into  Asia,  where 
quite  different  customs  prevailed;  and,  last  of  all,  he 
went  into  Egypt,  which  was  then  the  seat  of  science, 
wisdom,  and  good  counsels. 

HisJong  absence  onlv  made  his  country  the  more 
desirous  of  his  return;*  and  the  kings  themselves 
importuned  him  to  that  purpose,  being  sensible  how 
much  they  stood  in  need  of  his  authority  to  keep  the 
people  within  bound?,  and  in  some  degree  of  subjec- 
tion and  order.  When  he  came  back  to  Sparta,  he 
undertook  to  change  the  whole  form  of  their  govern- 
ment, being  persuaded,  that  a  few  particular  laws 
would  prod  ace  no  great  effect. 

But  before  he  put  this  design  in  execution,  he  went 
to  Delphi,  to  consult  the  oracle  of  Apollo:  where  after 
having  offered  his  sacrifice,  he  received  that  famous 
answer,  in  which  the  priestess  called  him  a  friend  of 
the  gods,  and  rather  a  god  than  a  man.  And  as  fot 
the  favour  he  desired  of  being  able  to  frame  a  set  of 
good  laws  for  his  country,  she  told  him,  the  god  had 
beard  hig  prayers,  and  that  the  commonwealth  he  was 
foing  to  establish  would  be  the  most  excellent  state 
ID  the  world. 

On  his  return  to  Sparta,  the  first  thing  he  did  was 
to  bring  over  to  his  designs  the  leading  men  of  the 
city,  whom  he  made  acquainted  with  his  views;  and 
when  he  wa«  assured  of  their  approbation  and  concur- 
rence, he  went  into  the  public  market-place,  accom- 
panied with  a  number  of  armed  men,  in  order  to 
astonish  and  intimidate  those  who  might  desire  to 
opnose  his  undertaking. 

The  new  form  of  government  which  he  introduced 
Into  Sparta,  may  be  reduced  to  three  principal  insti- 
tutions. 

FIRST  INSTTTUTIOW.     The  Senate. 
Of  all  the  new  regulation-1  or  institutions  made  by 
Lyciinrtis/  the  greatest  nnd  most  considerable  wa's 
that  of  the  senate;  which,  by  tempering  and  balanc- 
ing, as  Pldto  observes,  the  too  absolute  power  of  the 


Plut.  in  Tit  Lye  p  40. 
.'  Ibid.  p.  43 


•  Ibid.  p.  41. 
«  Ibid  p.  42. 


kin^s,  by  an  authority  of  equal  weight  and  influent* 
with  theirs,  became  the  principal  support  and  preser- 
vation of  that  state.  For  whf-rcas  before,  it  was  ever 
unsteady,  and  tending  one  while  towards  tyranny,  by 
the  violent  proceeding  of  the  kings;  at  other  times 
towards  democracy,  by  the  excessive  power  of  the 
people;  the  senate  served  as  a  kind  of  counterpoise  to 
both,  which  kept  the  state  in  a  clue  equilibrium,  and 
preserved  it  in  a  firm  and  steady  situation;  the  twen- 
tv-eiffht  senators,5  of  which  it  consisted,  siding  with 
the  kings,  when  the  people  were  grasping  at  too  much 
power;  and  on  the  other  hand  espousing  the  inter<-sU 
of  the  people,  whenever  the  kings  attempted  to  carry 
their  authority  too  far. 

Lycurgus  having  thus  tempered  the  government, 
those  that  came  after  him  thought  the  power  of  th« 
thirty  that  composed  the  senate,  still  too  strong  and 
absolute;  and  therefore,  as  a  check  upon  them,  thej 
devised  the  authority  of  the  F.phori,6  about  130  y<-ar» 
after  Lycurgus.  The  Ephori  were  five  in  number 
and  remained  but  one  year  in  office.  They  were  «l 
chosen  out  of  the  people;  and  in  that  respect  considei 
ably  resembled  the  tribunes  of  the  people  among  th« 
Romans.  Their  authority  extended  to  the  arresting 
and  imprisoning  the  persons  of  their  kings,  as  it  hap 
pened  in  the  case  of  Pausanias.  The  institution  or 
the  Ephori  began  in  the  reign  of  Theopompus,  whos* 
wife  reproaching  him,  that  he  would  leave  to  his  chil 
dren  the  regal  authority  in  a  worse  condition  than  hi 
had  received  it:  on  the'contrary,  said  he,  I  sl-alHeavt 
it  to  them  in  a  much  better  condition,  as  it  will  b. 
more  permanent  and  lasting. 

The  Spartan  government  then  was  not  purely  mo 
narehical.  The  nobility  had  a  great  share  in  it,  anc 
the  people  were  not  excluded.  Each  part  of  this  bodj 
politic,  in  proportion  as  it  contributed  to  the  public 
good,  found  in  it  their  advantage;  so  that  in  spite  ol 
the  natural  restlessness  and  inconstancy  of  man's 
heart,  which  is  always  thirsting  after  novelty  and 
change,  and  is  never  cured  of  its  disgust  to  uniformity 
Lacedsemon  persevered  for  many  ages  in  the  exacl 
observance  of  her  law*. 

SECOND  INSTITUTION.  The  Division  of  the  Lands, 
and  the  Prohibition  of  Gold  and  Silver  Money, 
The  second  and  the  boldest  institution  of  Lycnr- 
gus.T  was  the  division  of  the  lands,  which  he  looked 
upon  as  absolutely  necessary  for  establishing  peace 
and  good  order  in'the  commonwealth.  The  greater 
part  of  the  people  were  so  poor,  that  thev  had  not  one 
inch  of  land  of  their  own,  whilst  a  small  number  of 
individuals  were  possessed  of  all  the  lands  and  wealth 
of  the  country;  in  order  therefore  to  banish  insolence, 
envy,  fraud,  luxury,  and  two  other  distempers  of  the 
state,  still  greater  and  more  ancient  than  those,  I 
mean  extreme  poverty  and  excessive  wealth,  he  per- 
suaded the  citizens  to  give  up  all  their  lands  to  the 
commonwealth,  and  to  make  a  new  division  of  them 
that  they  might  all  live  together  in  a  perfrrt  equality, 
and  that  no  pre-nninence  or  honours  should  be  given 
but  to  virtue  and  merit  alone. 

This  scheme,  extraordinary  as  it  was,  was  immedi- 
ately executed.  Lyrurgus  divided  the  lands  of  Laco- 
nia  into  30,000  parts,  which  he  distributed  among  the 
inhabitants  of  the  country:  and  the  territories  of 
Sparta  into  0000  parts,  which  he  distributed  among 
an  equal  number  of  citizens.  It  is  said,  that  some 
years  after,  as  Lycurgus  was  returning  from  a  Jong 
journey,  and  passing  through  the  lands  of  Laconia  it 
'the  time  of  harvest,  and  observing,  as  he  went  along 
the  perfect  equality  of  the  sheaves  of  renped  corn,  h« 
turned  towards  those  that  were  with  him,  and  saict 
smiliner.  Does  not  Laconia  look  like  the  possession  of 
general  brothers,  IP/IO  have  just  been  dividing  their 
inheritance  amongst  them? 

After  having  divided  their  immoveablpg,  he  under 
took  likewise  to  make  the  same  equal  division  of  all 
their  moveahle  goods  and  chattels,  that  he  might 
utterly  banish  from  among  them  all  manner  of  ine- 


•  Thi«   council  consisted  of  thirt-  persons,  including  the 
two  kin  if*. 

•  The  word  »i»nifip«  comptroller  or  intpetisr 
'  Plut.  in  Tit.  Lye.  p.  44. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


211 


quality.  But  perceiving1  that  this  would  meet  with 
more  opposition  if  he  went  openly  about  it,  he  endea- 
voured to  effect  it  by  sapping;  the  ver}'  foundations  of 
avarice.  For  first  he  cried  down  all  gold  and  silver 
money,  and  ordained  that  no  other  should  be  current 
than  that  of  iron,  which  he  made  so  very  heavy,  and 
fixed  at  so  low  a  rate,  that  a  cart  and  two  oxen  were 
necessary  to  carry  home  a  sum  of  ten  mina;,1  and  a 
wholt  chamber  to  keep  it  in. 

The  next  thing  he  did  was  to  banish  all  useless  and 
superfluous  arts  from  Sparta.  But  if  he  had  not  done 
this,  most  of  them  would  have  sunk  of  themselves  and 
disappeared  with  the  gold  and  silver  money;  because 
tl.e  tradesmen  and  artificers  would  have  found  no 
vent  for  their  commodities;  and  this  iron  money  had 
no  currency  among-  any  other  of  the  Grecian  s'tates, 
who  were  so  far  fron,  esteeming  it,  that  it  became  the 
»ul>ject  of  their  banter  and  ridicule. 

THIRD  INSTITUTION.     The  Public  Meals. 

LYCUTIGUS,  being  desirous  to  make  war  still  more 
rigorously  upot'  efl'e.nnnacy  and  luxury,  and  utterly  to 
extirpate  the  love  of  riches,  made  a  third  regulation, 
which  was  that  of  public  meals.  That  he  might  en- 
tirely suppress  all  the  magnificence  and  extravagance 
of  expensive  tables,*  he  ordained,  that  all  the  citizens 
should  eat  together  of  the  same  common  victuals, 
which  were  prescribed  by  law,  and  expressly  forbade 
all  private  eating  at  their  own  houses. 

By  this  institution  of  public  and  common  meals,  and 
this  frugality  and  simplicity  in  eating,  it  may  be  said, 
that  he  made  riches  in  some  measure  change  their 
very  nature,  by  putting  them  out  of  a  condition  of 
being  desired  or  stolen,3  or  of  enriching  their  posses- 
»ors;  for  there  was  no  way  left  for  a  man  to  use  or 
enjoy  his  opulence,  or  even  to  make  any  show  of  it; 
lince  the  poor  and  the  rich  ate  together  in  the  same 
place,  and  none  were  allowed  to  appear  at  the  public 
eating-rooms,  afterhaving  taken  care  to  fill  themselves 
with  other  diet;  because  every  body  present  took 
particular  notice  of  any  one  that  did  not  eat  or  drink, 
and  the  whole  company  were  sure  to  reproach  him 
with  the  delicacy  and  intemperance  that  made  him 
despise  the  common  food  and  public  table. 

The  rich  were  extremely  enraged  at  this  regulation; 
and  it  was  upon  this  occasion,  that  in  a  tumult  of  the 
people,  a  young  man,  named  Alcander,  struck  out  one 
of  Lyrurgiis's  eyes.  The  people,  provoked  at  such 
an  outrage,  delivered  the  young  man  into  Lycurgus's 
hands,  who  knew  how  to  revenge  himself  in  a  proper 
manner;  for.  by  the  extraordinary  kindness  and  gen- 
tleness with  which  he  treated  him,  he  made  the  violent 
and  hot-headed  youth  in  a  little  time  become  very 
moderate  and  wise. 

The  tnhles  consisted  of  about  fifteen  persons  each: 
where  none  could  be  admitted  without  the  consent  of 
the  whole  company.  Each  person  furnished  every 
month  a  bushel  of  flour,  eight  measures  of  wine,  five 
pounds  of  cheese,  two  pounds  and  a  half  of  fiffs,  and 
a  small  sum  of  money  for  preparing  and  cooking  the 
victuals.  F.verv  one,  without  exception  of  persons, 
was  obliged  to  be  at  the  common  meal;  and  a  long 
time  after  the  making  of  these  regulations,  king  As:is, 
at  his  return  from  a  glorious  expedition,  having  taken 
the  liberty  to  dispense  with  that  law,  in  order  to  eat 
with  the  queen  his  wife,  was  reprimanded  and  pun- 
ched. 

The  very  children  were  present  at  these  public 
tabUs,  and  were  carried  thither  as  to  a  school  of  wis- 
dom and  temperance.  There  they  were  sure  to  hear 
prave  discourses  upon  Government,  »nd  to  see  nothing 
but  what  tended  to  their  instruction  and  improvement. 
The  conversation  was  often  enlivened  with  ingenious 
and  sprisrhtly  raillery:  but  never  intermixed  with  any 
thing  vulgar  or  disgusting;  and  if  their  jesting  seemed 
to  make  any  person  uneasy,  they  never  proceeded  any 
farther.  Here  their  children  were  likewise  trained  up 
and  accustomed  to  great  secrecy:  as  soon  as  a  youns: 
man  came  into  the  dining-room,  the  oldest  person  of 


i  Five  hundred  livre*  French,  about  20/.  English. 

•  Plut.  in  vit.  Lvc.  p.  45. 

I   Tl»    *MVTO>  KPV».OI>,  f>>nX.»*  Ji  «£nM»,   *•!    Kt 


the  company  used  to  say  to  him,  pointing  to  thedooi; 
Nothing-  spoken  here  must  ever  go  out  there. 

The  most  exquisite  of  all  their  dishes  was  what  thcj 
called  their  Hack  lirnth;*  and  the  old  men  preferred  it 
to  every  thing  that  was  set  upon  the  table.  Dionysius 
the  tyrant,  when  he  was  at  one  of  these  meals,  was 
not  of  the  same  opinion;  and  what  was  a  ragout  to 
them,  was  to  him  very  insipid: — I  do  not  wonder  at 
it,  said  the  cook,  for  the  seasoning  is  wanting.  What 
seasoning?  replied  the  tyrant. — Running,  sweating, 
fatigue,  hunger,  and  thirst;  these  are  the  ingredients, 
says  the  cook,  with  which  we  season  all  our  food. 

OTHER  ORDINANCES. 

When  I  speak  of  the  ordinances  of  Lycurgus,8  I 
do  not  mean  written  laws;  he  thought  proper  to  leave 
very  few  of  that  kind,  being  persuaded,  that  the  most 
powerful  and  effectual  means  of  rendering  communi- 
ties happy,  and  people  virtuous,  is  by  the  good  exam- 
ple, and  the  impression  made  on  the  mind  by  the  man- 
ners and  practice  of  the  citizens:  for  the  principles 
thus  implanted  by  education  remain  firm  and  immove- 
able,  as  they  are  rooted  in  the  will,  which  is  always  a 
stronger  an'd  more  durable  tie  than  theyoke  of  neces- 
sity;  and  the  youth  that  have  been  thus  nurtured  and 
educated,  become  laws  and  legislators  to  themselves. 
These  are  the  reasons  why  Lycurgus,  instead  of  leav- 
ing his  ordinances  in  writing,  endeavoured  to  imprint 
and  enforce  them  by  practice  and  example. 

He  looked  upon  the  education  of  youth  as  the 
greatest  and  most  important  object  of  a  legislator's 
care.  His  grand  principle  was,  that  children  belonged 
more  to  the  state  than  to  their  parents;  and  therefore 
he  would  not  have  them  brought  up  according  to  their 
humours  and  caprice,  but  would  have  the  state  intrust- 
ed with  the  care  of  their  education,  in  order  to  have 
them  formed  upon  fixed  and  uniform  principles  which 
might  inspire  them  betimes  with  the  love  of  their 
country  and  of  virtue. 

As  soon  as  a  bov  was  born,  the  elders  of  each  tribe 
visited  him  ;6  and  if  they  found  him  well  made, strong 
and  vigorous,  they  ordered  him  to  be  brought  up,  and 
assigned  him  one  of  the  9000  portions  of  land  for  his 
inheritance;7  if,  on  the  contrary,  they  found  him  to 
be  deformed,  tender,  and  weak!}',  so  that  they  could 
not  expect  that  he  would  ever  have  a  strong  and 
healthful  constitution,  they  condemned  him  to  perish 
and  caused  the  infant  to  be  exposed. 

Children  were  early  accustomed  not  to  be  nice  or 
difficult  in  their  eating:  not  to  be  afraid  in  the  dark, 
or  when  thev  were  left  alone;  not  to  give  themselves 
up  to  peevishness  and  ill  humour,  to  crying  and  bawl- 
ing; to  walk  barefoot,8  that  they  might  be  inured  to 
fatisrue  ;  to  lie  hard  at  nights  ;  to  wear  the  same 
clothes  winter  and  summer,  in  order  to  harden  them 
against  cold  and  heat. 

At  the  age  of  seven  years  they  were  put  into  the 
classes,9  where  they  were  brought  up  altogether  un- 
der the  same  discipline.  Their  education,10  properly 
sneaking,  was  only  an  apprenticeship  of  obedience: 
the  legislator  having  rightly  considered,  that  the  surest 
way  to  have  citizens  submissive  to  the  law  and  to  the 
magistrates,  in  which  the  good  order  and  happiness 
of  a  state  chiefly  consists,  was  to  teach  children  early, 
and  to  accustom  them  from  their  tender  years,  to  b« 
perfectly  obedient  to  their  masters  and  superiors. 

While  thev  are  at  table,"  it  was  usual  for  the  mas- 
ters to  instruct  the  bovs  by  proposing  them  questions. 
They  would  ask  them,  for  example,  Who  is  the  most 
worthy  man  in  the  town?  What  do  you  think  of  such 
or  such  an  action?  The  boys  were  obliged  to  give  P 


«  Oir.  Tusc.  Quirst.  lib.  v.  n.  98. 

•  Plut.  vit.  Lye.  p.  47.  «   f hid.  p.  40. 

'  I  do  not  comprehend  how  they  ronld  assiffn  to  e»ery  one 
of  thene  children  one  of  the  0000  portions,  appropriated  to 
the  city,  for  hie  inheritance.  Wa«  the  number  of  citir.enx  nl. 
w«y«  the  same?  Did  it  never  exceed  POOO?  It  ie  not  naid 
In  thi«  cane,  as  in  the  division  of  the  holv  Innd.  that  the  por- 
tion* allotted  to  a  family  always  continued  in  it  and  could 
not  He  entirely  alienated. 

•  Xen.  de  Lac,  rep.  p.  677.  •  Plut.  In  Lye.  p.  M. 
to  "lion  TI)«  vmttifmr  iTmi  tnltrii<>.iv*nSii*C 

ti  Plat,  in  Lye,  p.  51. 


212 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


quick  or  ready  aniwer,  which  was  also  to  be  ac.cpm- 
ptmied  with  a  reason  and  a  proof,  both  couched  in  a 
few  words:  for  they  were  accustomed  betimes  to  the 
laconic  style,  that 'is,  to  a  close  and  concise  way  of 
speaking  and  writing.  Lvcurgus  was  for  having  the 
money  bulky,  heavy,  and  of  little  value,  and  their 
language,  on  the  contrary,  very  pithy  and  short;  and 
a  great  deal  of  sense  comprised  in  a  few  words. 

As  for  literature,1  they  only  learned  as  much  as 
was  necessary.  All  the  sciences  were  banished  out  of 
their  country;  their  study  tended  only  to  know  how 
to  obey,  to  hear  hardship  and  fatigue,  and  to  conquer 
in  battle.  The  superintendant  of  their  education  was 
one  of  the  most  honourable  men  of  the  city,  and  of  the 
first  rank  and  condition,  who  appointed  over  every 
class  of  boys  masters  of  the  most  approved  wisdom 
and  probity. 

There  was  one  kind  of  theft  only  (and  that  too 
more  a  nominal  than  a  real  one)  which  the  boys  were 
allowed,8  and  even  ordered  to  practise.  They  were 
taught  to  slip,  as  cunningly  and  cleverly  as  they 
coul  I,  into  the  gardens  and  public  halls,  in  order  to 
steal  away  herbs  or  meat:  and  if  they  were  caught  in 
the  fact,  they  were  punished  for  their  want  of  dexter- 
tty.  We  are  told  that  one  of  them,  having  stolen  a 
yoang  fox,  hid  it  under  his  robe,  and  suffered,  with- 
out uttering  a  complaint,  the  anitiinl  to  gnaw  into  his 
belly,  and  tear  out  his  very  bowels,  till  he  fell  dead 
upon  the  spot.  This  kind  of  theft,  as  I  have  said, 
was  but  nominal,  and  not  properly  a  robbery;  since 
it  was  authorized  by  the.  law  and  the  consent  of  the 
citizens.  The  intent  of  the  legislator  in  allowing  it, 
wa<  to  inspire  the  Spartan  youth,  who  were  all  de- 
signed for  war,  with  greater  boldness,  subtilty,  and 
address;  to  inure  them  betimes  to  the  life  of  a  soldier; 
to  teach  them  to  live  upon  a  little,  and  to  be  able  to 
shif!  for  themselves.  But  I  have  already  treated  this 
matter  more  at  large  elsewhere.* 

The  patience  and  constancy  of  the  Spartan  youth 
most  conspicuously  appeared  in  a  certain  festival,* 
celebrated  in  honour  of  Diana,  surnamed  Orthia, 
where  the  children  before  the  eyes  of  their  parents, 
and  in  presence  of  the  whole  city,5  suffered  them- 
selves to  !;•€  whipped  till  the  blood  ran  down  upon  the 
altar  of  this  cruel  goddess,  where  sometimes  they  ex- 
pired under  the  strokes,  and  all  this  without  uttering 
the  leist  cry,  or  so  much  as  a  groan  or  a  sigh ;  and 
even  their  own  fathers,  when  they  saw  them  covered 
with  blood  and  ready  to  expire,  exhorted  them  to 

Fersevere  to  the  end  with  constancy  and  resolution, 
lutarch  assures  us,  that  he  had  seen  with  his  own 
eyes  a  great  many  children  lose  their  lives  at  the 
celebration  of  these  cruel  rites.  Hence  it  is  that 
Horace  gives  the  epithet  of  patient  to  the  city  of  La- 
cednemon,6  Patient  Laccdccmnn;  and  another  author 
makes  a  man  who  had  received  three  strokes  of  a 
stick  without  complaining,  say,  Tres  plagas  Spartana 
Holiitilafe  concoxi. 

The  most  usual  occupation  of  the  Lacedaemonians 
wa"  hunting,7  and  other  bodily  exercises.  They  were 
forbidden  to  exercise  any  mechanic  art.  The  F.lotne, 
who  were  a  sort  of  slaves,  tilled  their  land  for  them, 
and  paid  them  a  certain  proportion  of  the  produce- 

Lycurarus  was  willing  that  his  citizens  should  enjoy 
a  great  deal  of  leisure;8  they  had  large  common-halls, 
where  the  people  used  to  meet  to  converse  together, 
and  though  their  discourses  chiefly  turned  upon  grave 
and  seriou*  topics,  yet  they  seasoned  them  with  a  mix- 
ture of  wit  and  facetious  humour,  both  agreeable  and 
instructive.  They  passed  little  of  their  time  alone, 
being  accustomed  to  live  like  bees,  always  to?ether, 
always  about  their  chiefs  and  leaders.  The  love  of 
their  country  and  of  the  public  good  was  their  pre- 
dominant passion:  they  did  not  imagine  they  belong- 
ed to  themselves,  but  to  their  country.  Predaretus, 
having  missed  the  honour  of  being  chosen  one  of  the 

i  Plut.  in  Lvc.  p  52. 

»  Plat.  vit.  Lvc.  )>.  50.     Idom  in  inntitut.  Lseon.  p.  237. 
»  Of  the   method   of   teaching   and  itudjing  the  Belle* 
Lettrc*,  &e.  vol.  iii.  p.  471. 

Plut.  p.  51.  •  Cie.  Tusc.  Qorit.  Ill),  ii.  n.  34. 

«  Me  Tii.  lib.  1. 
'  Plut.  in  Tit   Lycurj.  p.  54.  •  Ibid.  p.  55. 


300  who  had  a  certain  rank  of  distinction  in  the  city, 
went  home  extreme-ly  pleased  and  satisfied,  saying, 
He  was  nverjnye.il  there  were  300  men  in  Spartamon 
worthy  than  himself. 

At  Sparta  every  thing  tended  to  inspire  the  love  of 
virtue  and  the  hatred  of  vice;9  the  actions  of  the 
citizens,  their  conversations,  and  even  their  public 
monuments  and  inscriptions.  It  was  hard  for  men, 
brought  up  in  the  midst  of  so  many  living  precepts 
and  example,  not  to  become  virtuous,  as  far  as  heath- 
ens were  capable  of  virtue.  It  was  to  preserve  thes-? 
happy  dispositions,  that  I.ycurgus  did  not  allow  all 
sorts  of  persons  to  travel,  lest  they  should  bring  home 
foreign  manners,  and  return  infected  with  the  licen- 
tious customs  of  other  countries,  which  would  necfs- 
sarily  create  in  a  little  time  an  aversion  for  the  mode 
of  life  and  maxims  of  Lacednemon.  Neither  would 
he  suffer  any  strangers  to  remain  in  the  city,  who  did 
not  come  thither  to  some  useful  or  profitable  end,  but 
out  of  mere  curiosity:  being  afraiJ  they  should  bring 
along  with  them  the  defects  and  vices  of  their  own 
countries;  and  being  persuaded,  at  the  same  time, 
that  it  was  more  important  and  necessary  to  shut  the 
gates  of  a  city  against  depraved  and  corrupt  manners, 
than  against  infectious  distempers.  Properly  speak- 
ing, the  very  trade  and  business  of  the  Laced.Tinoni 
ans  was  war;  every  thing  with  them  tended  that  way: 
arms  were  their  only  exercise  and  employment;  their 
life  wa»  much  less  hard  and  austere  in  the  camp  than 
in  the  city;  and  they  were  the  only  people  in  the 
world,  to  whom  the  time  of  war  was  a  time  of  ease 
and  refreshment;  because  then  the  reins  of  that  strict 
and  severe  discipline  which  prevailed  at  Sparta,  were 
somewhat  relaxed,  and  the  men  were  indulged  in  a 
little  more  liberty.  With  them  the  first  and  most  in- 
violable, law  of  w'ar,10  asDemiiratus  told  Xerxes,  was, 
never  to  fly,  or  turn  their  backs,  whatever  superiority 
of  numbers  ihe  enemy's  army  mi^,ht  consist  of;  never 
to  quit  their  posts;  never  to  deliver  up  their  arms;  in 
a  word,  either  to  conquer  or  to  die.  This  maxim  was 
so  important  and  essential  in  their  opinion,"  that  whet 
the  poet  Archilochus  came  to  Spaita,  they  obliged 
him  to  leave  their  city  immediately:  becaust- they  un- 
derstood, that  in  one  of  his  poems  he  had  said,  //  wot 
better  for  a  man  to  throw  down  his  arms,  than  to  ex- 
pose himself  to  he  killed. 

Hence  it  is,12  that  a  mother  recommended  to  her 
son,  who  was  going  to  make  a  campaign,  that  he 
should  return  either  with  or  upon  his  shield;  and  that 
another,  hearing  that  her  son,  was  killed  in  fighting  for 
his  country,  answered  very  cAldly,  /  hroiig-hi  him  into 
the  world  for  no  other  end.™  This  temper  of  mind  was 
generalamong  the  Lacedaemonians.  After  the  famous 
battle  of  Leuctra,  which  was  so  fatal  to  the  Spartans, 
the  parents  of  those  that  died  in  the  sction,  congratu- 
lated one  another  upon  it,  and  went  to  the  temples  to 
thank  the  gods  that  theirchildren  had  done  their  duty ; 
whereas  the  relations  of  those  who  survived  the  deft  at, 
were  inconsolable.  If  any  of  the  Spartans  fled  in 
battle  they  were  dishonoured  and  disgraced  for  ever. 
They  were  not  only  excluded  from  all  posts  and  em- 
ployments in  the  state,  from  all  assemblies  and  public 
diversions;  but  it  was  reckoned  scandalous  to  make 
any  alliances  with  them  by  marriage;  ana  a  thousand 
affronts  and  insults  were  publicly  offered  them  with 
impunity. 

The  Spartans  never  went  to  fight  without  first  im- 
ploring the  help  of  the  gods  by  public  sacrifices  ami 
prayers;H  and  when  that  was  done  they  marched 
against  the  enemy  with  a  perfect  confidence  and  expor- 
tation of  success,  as  being  assured  of  the  divine  pro- 
tection; and  to  make  nse  of  Plutarch's  expressions, 
As  if  God  were  present  with,  and  fought  for  them, 

if  roD  Siou  rUjmr«,ivT05. 

When  they   had  broken  and  routed  the  onemy'f 


brought  home  upon  their  nhields. 

»  Cic.  lib.  i.  Tu»r.  Qusem.  n.  (02.     Plut.  in  Tit.  Agei.  p 
612.  «•  Pint,  in  rit.  I.ycurg  p.  53. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


213 


force*,1  they  never  pumied  them  farther  than  was  ne- 
fce.s«ary  to  make  themselves  sure  of  the  victory;  alter 
wliich  they  retired,  as  thinking-  it  neither  glorious, 
nor  worthy  of  Greece,  to  cut  in  pieces  and  destroy  an 
enf  my  that  yitlded  and  fled.  And  this  proved  as  use- 
ful as  it  was  honourable  to  the  Spartans;  for  their 
enemies,  knowing  all  who  resisted  them  were  put  to 
the  sword,  and  that  they  spared  none  but  those  that 
fled,  generally  chose  rather  to  fly  than  to  resist. 

When  the  first  institutions  of  Lycurgus  were  re- 
reived  and  confirmed  by  practice,*  and  the  form  of 
government  he  had  established  seemed  strong  and 
vigorous  enough  to  support  itself;  as  Plato  says  of 
God.3  that  after  he  had  finished  the  creation  of  the 
world,  he  rejoiced,  when  he  saw  it  revolve  and  perform 
its  first  motions  with  so  much  justness  and  harmony; 
so  the  Spartan  legislator,  pleased  with  the  greatness 
and  hemity  of  its  laws,  felt  his  joy  and  satisfaction 
redouble,  when  he  saw  them,  as  it  were,  walk  alone, 
and  sco  forward  so  happily. 

But  desiring,  as  far  as  depended  on  human  pru- 
dence, to  render  them  immortal  and  unchangeable,  he 
signified  to  the  people,  that  there  was  still  (me  point 
remaining  to  he  performed,  the  most  essential  and  im- 
portant of  all,  about  which  he  would  go  »nd  consult 
the  oracle  of  Apollo;  and  in  the  mean  time  he  made 
them  ;tll  take  an  oath,  that  till  his  return  they  would 
inviolably  maintain  the  form  of  government  which  he 
had  established.  When  he  was  arrived  at  Delphi,  he 
consulted  the  god,  to  know  whether  the  laws  he  had 
made  were  good  and  sufficient  to  render  the  Lacedae- 
monians happy  and  virtuous.  The  priestess  answered, 
that  nothing  was  wanting:  to  his  laws;  and  that,  as 
long  as  Sparta  observed  them,  she,  would  he  the  most 
glorious  and  happy  city  in  the  world.  Lvcurg-us  sent 
Ihis  answer  to  Sparta;  and  then,  thinking  he  had  ful- 
filled his  ministry,  he  voluntarily  died  at  Delphi,  by 
abstaining  from  all  manner  of  sustenance.  His  notion 
was.  that  even  tlie.  death  of  great  persons  and  states- 
men should  not  he  useless  and  unprofitable  to  the  state, 
hut  a  kind  of  supplement  to  their  ministry,  and  one  of 
their  most  important  actions,  which  ought  to  do  them 
as  much  or  more  honour  than  all  the  rest.  He  there- 
fore thought,  that  in  dying  thus  he  should  crown  «nd 
complete  i>ll  the  services  which  he  had  rendered  his 
fellow-citizens  during  his  life;  since,  his  death  would 
engage  them  to  a  perpetual  observation  of  his  institu- 
tions, which  they  had  sworn  to  observe  inviolably  till 
his  return. 

Although  I  represent  Lycurgns's  sentiments  upon 
hi*  own  death  in  tho  light  wherein  Plutarch  has  trans- 
mitted them  to  us,  I  am  verj  far  from  approving  them; 
and  I  make  the  same  declaration  with  respect  to  se- 
veral other  facts  of  the  like  nature,  which  I  sometimes 
relate  without  making  any  reflections  upon  them, 
thouirh  I  tli'mk  them  very  unworthy  of  approbation. 
The  pretended  wise  men  among  the  heathens  had,  as 
well  concerning  this  article  as  several  others,  hut  very 
faint  and  imperfect  notions:  or  to  speak  more  pro- 
nerlv.  remained  in  great  darkness  and  error.  They 
laid  down  this  admirable  principle,  which  we  meet 
with  in  many  of  their  writings,  that  man,*  placed  in 
the  world  as  in  a  certain  post  by  his  general,  cannot 
abandon  it  without  the  express  command  of  him  upon 
whom  lie  depends,  that  is,  of  God  himself.  At  other 
times,  they  looked  upon  man  as  a  criminal  condemned 
to  n  melancholy  prison,  from  whence  indeed  he  might 
desire  to  be  released,  but  could  not  lawfully  attempt 

i  Pin!,  in  vit.  Lyrnrtr.  p.  H4.  »  Ibid.  p.  57. 

•  This  poR«nj:e  of  Pluto  is  in  his  Timiriis.  and   pivrn    UK 
reason  to  Ivelirv  >  'hat  thix  philosopher  I  ad  rend  u'liat  Mown 
»ai«i  of  Oml  ivlien  IIP  rn-ntrd  (he  world  ;   Vidit  Dfut  runcla 
q\i<r  ffrrrnt.  ft  r;-nnt  r,-..'<lr  liana-     Gen.  i.  ?1. 

*  Vrtnt    Pythnffnrn*.    injussn    impcratori*.   id   e«t  Dri  de 
pnrMclio  et  ntnlinnr  viiir  dereilrre.     Cte.  dp  Kcnect.  n   73. 

Cato  s:c  nhiit  6  vila  ul  rflinam  moripndi  nnrtum  *e  <-»«e 
raiideret.  Vptal  pnim  iloniiniind  illr  in  nohi«  Deu»  injnran 
feinc  no<<  too  dpmijrnre.  Cfnn  vero  onusam  justam  DPUI 
ipse  dederit.  in  lunr  FWrati.  nunr  Cn'oni.  nrrw  mulli";  nn> 
ille,  rnrdius  fidius.  vir  sapiens,  lartus  ex  hi«  tenphriu  in  lueern 
illnm  rxrcxsern.  Nee  tnmpn  ilia  vinrnln  rnrceriK  ni|wril  ; 
lop»«  PMin  ve'nnt  :  crd  tnm|UHin  A  inti?i*'ratu  aut  ah  aliiiuft 
potentate  lr<riiim».  sir  »  Dm  evocatus  atque  emi«Eu«,  exicr- 
It  Id.  1.  Tutc.  Quo*!,  n.  74, 


to  be  so,  but  by  the  course  of  justice,  and  the  ordei 
of  the  magistrate;  and  not  by  breaking  his  chains 
and  forcing  the  gates  of  his  prison.  These  notions  are 
beautiful,  because  they  are  true;  but  the  application 
they  made  of  them  was  wrong,  by  taking  that  for  an 
express  order  of  the  Deity,  which  was  the  pure  effect 
of  their  own  weakness  or  pride,  by  which  they  were 
led  to  put  themselves  to  death,  either  that  they  might 
deliver  themselves  from  the  pains  and  troubles  of  thu 
life.,  or  immortalize  their  names,  as  was  the  case  with 
Lycurgus,  Cato,  and  a  number  of  others. 

REFLECTIONS   UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  SPARTA. 
AND   UPON   THE   LAWS   OF  I.VCURGUS. 

I.  Things  commendable  in  the  laics  of  Lycurgus. 

There  must  needs  have  been  (to  judge  only  by  the 
event)  a  great  fund  of  wisdom  and  prudence  iii  the 
laws  of  Lycurgus;  since,  as  long  as  they  were  ob- 
served in  Sparta,  (which  was  above  500  years)  it  wag 
a  most  flourishing  and  powerful  city.  It  was  not  go 
much  (says  Plutarch,  speaking  of  the  laws  of  Sparta,) 
the  government  and  polity  of  a  city,  as  t!ie  conduct 
and  regular  behaviour  of  a  wise  man,  who  passes  hit 
whole  life  in  the  exercise  of  virtue:  or  rather  con- 
tinues the  same  author,  as  the  poets  feign,  that  Her- 
cules, only  with  his  lion's  skin  and  club,  went  from 
country  to  country  to  purge  the  world  of  robbers  and 
tyrants:  so  Sparta,  with  a  slip  of  parchment  5  and  an 
old  coat,  gave  laws  to  al!  Greece,  which  willingly 
submitted  to  her  dominion;  suppressed  tyrannies  and 
unjust  authority  in  cities;  put  an  end  to  wars,  as  she 
thought  fit,  and  appeased  insurrections;  and  all  this 
generally  without  nioving  a  shield  or  a  sword,  and 
only  by  sending  n  simple  ambassador  amongst  them, 
who  no  sooner  appeared,  than  all  the  people  submit- 
ted, and  flocked  about  him  like  so  many  bees  about 
their  monarch:  to  much  respect  did  the  justice  and 
good  government  of  this  city  imprint  upon  the  minds 
of  all  their  neighbours. 

1.   The  nature  of  the  Spartan  government. 

We  find  at  the  end  of  Lycurgus' s  life  a  reflectioo 
made  by  Plutarch,  which  of  itself  comprehends  a 
great  encomium  upon  that  legislator.  He  there  says, 
that  Plato,  Diogenes,  Zeno,  and  all  those  who  have 
treated  of  the  establishment  of  a  political  state  of  gov- 
ernment, took  their  plans  from  the  republic  of  Ly- 
curgus; with  this  difference,  that  they  confined  them- 
selves wholly  to  words  and  theory:  but  Lycurgus, 
without  dwelling  upon  ideas  and  speculative  projects, 
did  really  and  effectually  institute  an  inimitable  polity, 
and  form  a  whole  city  of  philosophers. 

In  order  to  succeed  in  this  undertaking,  and  to 
establish  the  most  perfect  form  of  a  commonwealth 
that  could  be,  he  melted  down,  as  it  were,  and  blended 
together,  what  he  found  best  in  every  kind  of  govern- 
ment, and  most  conducive  to  the  public  good;  thus 
tempering  one  species  with  another,  and  balancing  the 
inconveniences  to  which  each  of  then)  in  particular  is 
subject,  with  the  advantages  that  result  from  their 
being  united  together.  Sparta  had  something  of  the 
monarchical  form  of  government,  in  the  authority  of 
her  kings;  the  council  of  thirty,  otherwise  called  the 
senate,  was  a  true  aristocracy;  and  the  power  vested 
in  the.  people  of  nominating  the  senators,  and  ofgiT- 
ing  sanction  to  the  laws,  resembled  a  democratical 
government.  The  institution  of  the  Fphori  afterwards 
served  to  rectify  what  was  amiss  in  those  previous 
establishments,  and  to  supply  what  was  defective. 
Plato,  in  more  places  than  one,  admires  Lycnrgus's 
wisdom  in  his  institution  of  the  senate,  which  was 


•  This  was  what  the  Spartans  called  srytale.  n  thon?  of 
Irnlher  or  parchment,  which  lhey  twisted  round  a  staff  in 
surh  a  manner,  that  there  was  no  vacancy  or  void  cpiirp.  It  ft 
upon  it.  They  wrote  upon  ihis  tlionj:,  and  wlipn  ilipy  had 
writipn,  they  untwisted  it,  andnont  it  tothpeenernl  fur  whom 
it  wns  inlcnriVd.  This  general,  who  had  another  nick  of  lh« 
»ame  nir.e  with  that  on  which  the  thontr  wns  twisted  and 
written  upon,  wrapped  it  round  that  stafTin  the  same  man- 
ner, and  hy  thit  ineann  found  out  the  connexion  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  letters,  which  otherwise  were  so  displaced  and 
out  of  order,  that  there  was  no  possibility  »f  their  being 
read.  Pint,  in  tit.  Lye.  p.  444. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


equally  advantageous  both  to  the  kings  and  the  peo- 
ple; bccauue  by  this  means,1  the  law  became  the  only 
supreme  mistress  of  the  kings,  and  the  kings  never 
became  tyrants  over  the  law. 

2.  Equal  division  of  the  lands:  gold  and  tilver  ban- 
ished from  Sparta. 

The  design  formed  by  Lycurgus  of  making  an  equal 
distribution  of  the  lands  among  the  citizens,  and  of 
entirely  banishing  from  Sparta  all  luxury,  avarice, 
lawsuits,  and  dissensions,  by  abolishing  the  use  of  gold 
and  silver,  would  appear  to  us  a  scheme  of  a  common- 
wealth finely  conceived  in  speculation,  but  utterly  im- 
practicable in  execution,  did  not  history  assure  us,  that 
Sparta  actually  subsisted  in  that  condition  for  many 
ages. 

When  I  place  the  transaction  I  am  now  speaking 
of  among  the  laudable  part  of  Lycurgus's  laws,  I  do 
not  pretend  it  to  be  absolutely  unexceptionable;  for  1 
think  it  can  scarce  be  reconciled  with  that  general  law 
of  nature,  which  forbids  the  taking  away  one  man's 
property  to  give  it  to  another:  and  yet  this  is  what  was 
really  done  upon  this  occasion.  Therefore,  in  this 
fcffair  of  dividing  the  lands,  I  consider  only  so  much 
of  it  as  was  truly  commendable  in  itself,  and  worthy 
of  admiration. 

Can  we  possibly  conceive,  that  a  man  could  per- 
suade the  richest  and  most  opulent  inhabitants  of  a 
city  to  resign  all  their  revenues  and  estates,  to  level 
and  confound  themselves  with  the  poorest  of  the  peo- 

Cle:  to  subject  themselves  to  a  new  way  of  living, 
oth  severe  in  itself,  and  full  of  restraint;  in  a  word, 
to  debar  themselves  of  the  use  of  everv  thing  wherein 
the  happiness  and  comfort  of  life  is  thought  to  con- 
sist? And  yet  this  is  what  Lycurgus  actually  effected 
in  Sparta. 

Such  an  institution  as  this  would  have  been  less 
wonderful,  had  it  subsisted  only  during  the  life  of  the 
legislator;  but  we  know  that  it  lasted  many  ages  after 
his  decease.  Xenophon,  in  the  encomium  he  has  left 
us  of  Agesilaus,  and  Cicero,  in  one  of  his  orations,  ob- 
serve, that  Lacedsemon  was  the  only  city  in  the  world 
that  preserved  her  discipline  and  laws  for  so  consid- 
erable a  term  of  years  unaltered  and  inviolate.  Soli, 
•aid  the  latter,2  speaking  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  toto 
orle  terranim  sepling-en/os  jam  annoi  nmpliflt  imis 
moribiis  et  nimqitamimitatis  legibiis  vivimt.'l  believe, 
however,  that  in  Cicero's  time  the  discipline  of  Spar- 
ta, as  well  as  her  power,  was  very  much  relaxed  and 
diminished:  but  all  historians  agree,  that  it  was  main- 
tained in  all  its  vigour  till  the  reign  of  Agis,  under 
whom  Lysander,  though  incapable  himself  of  being 
blinded  or  corrupted  with  gold,  filled  his  country  with 
luxury  and  the  love  of  riches,  by  bringing  into  it  im- 
mense sums  of  gold  and  silver,  which  were  the  fruit 
of  his  victories,  and  thereby  subverting  the  laws  of 
Lycurgus. 

But  the  introduction  of  gold  and  silver  money  was 
not  the  first  wound   given   by  the  Lacedaemonians  to 
the  institutions  of  their  legislator.     It  wa«  the  conse- 
ence  of  the  violation  of  another  law  still  more  fun- 
amentnl.    Ambition  was  the  vice  that  preceded,  and 
made  way  for,  avarice.  The  desire  ofconqursts  drew 
on  that  of  riches,  without  which  they  could  not  pro- 
ise  to  extend  their  dominions.     The  main  c!esi<rn  of 
ycurgus,  in  the  establishing  his  laws,  and  especially 
that  which  prohibited  the  use  of  gold  and  silver,  wa«, 
as  Polybius,3  and  Plutarch  have  judiciously  observed, 
to  curb  and  restrain   the  ambition  of  his  citizens:  to 
disable  them  from  making  conquests,  and  in  a  man- 
ner to  force  them  to  confine  themselves  within  the 
narrow  bounds  of  their  own  country,  without   carry- 
ing their  views  and  pretensions  any  farther.     Indeed, 
the  government  which   he  established,  was  sufficient 
to  defi'nd  the  frontiers  of  Sparta,  but  was  not  calcu- 
lated for  the  raising  ner  to  a  dominion  over  other 
citif-v 

The  design,  then,  of  Lycnrgus  was  not  to  make 
the  Spartans  conquerors.4  To  remove  surh  thoughts 

1    X'.io;     jmiJi     xOp.l;    iyi'^ITO    Saf.Xlvc  T.»y     i»j, ««•„,. 

t*.x    •*»••!»«.«•««  Ti>«»r»i  »ljw.     Pint.  Epi't.  viii. 
i  Pro  Dae.  num.  Ixiii-  »  Polyb.  L  Ti.  p.  491. 

*  Plut.  in  morfuui  Laced,  p.  239. 


from  his  fellow-citizens,  he  expressly  forbid  them 
though  they  inhabited  a  country  surrounded  with  th« 
sea,  to  meddle  with  maritime  affairs;  to  have  any 
fleets,  or  ever  to  fight  upon  the  sea.  They  were  re- 
ligious observers  of  this  prohibition  for  manv  ages, 
and  even  till  the  defeat  of  Xerxes:  but  upon  that  oc- 
casion they  began  to  think  of  making  themselves 
masters  at  sea,  that  they  might  be  able  to  keep  so 
formidable  an  enemy  at  "the  greater  distance.  But 
having  soon  perceived,  that  these  maritime,  remote 
commands,  corrupted  the  manners  of  their  generalst 
they  laid  that  project  aside  without  any  difficulty,  as 
we  shall  observe,  when  we  come  to  speak  of  king 
Pausanias. 

When  Lycurgus  utren  his  fellow-citizens  with 
shields  and  lances,5  it  was  not  to  enable  them  to  com- 
mit wrongs  and  outrages  with  impunity,  but  only  to 
defend  themselves  against  the  invasions  and  injuries 
of  others.  He  made  them  indeed  a  nation  of  war 
riors  and  soldiers;  but  it  was  only  that,  under  the 
shadow  of  their  arms,  they  might  live  in  liberty,  mo 
deration,  justice,  union,  and  peace,  by  being  content 
with  their  own  territories,  without  usurping  those  of 
others,  and  by  being  persuaded,  that  no  city  or  state, 
any  more  than  individuals,  can  ever  hope  for  solid 
and  lasting  happiness  but  from  virtue  only.  Men  of 
a  depraved  taste  (says  Plutarch6  farther  on  the  sub- 
ject,) who  think  nothing  so  desirable  as  riches  and  a 
large  extent  of  dominion,  may  give  the  preference  to 
those  vast  empires  that  have  subdued  and  enslaved 
the  world  by  violence;  but  Lycurgus  was  convinced, 
that  a  city  had  occasion  for  nothing  of  that  kind,  in 
order  to  be  happy.  His  policy,  which  has  justly  been 
the  admiration  of  all  ages,  had  no  farther  views  than 
to  establish  equity,  moderation,  liberty,  and  peace, 
and  was  an  enemy  to  all  injustice,  violence,  and  am- 
bition, and  the  passion  of  reigning  and  extending  the 
bounds  of  the  Spartan  commonwealth. 

Such  reflections  as  these,  which  Plutarch  agreeably 
intersperses  in  his  lives,  and  in  which  their  greatest 
and  most  essential  beauty  consists,  are  of  infinite  use 
towards  the  giving  us  true  notions,  wherein  consista 
the  solid  and  true  glory  of  a  state  that  is  really  hap- 
py ;  as  also  to  correct  those  false  ideas  which  we  e,r» 
apt  to  form  of  the  vain  greatness  of  those  empires 
which  have  swallowed  up  kingdoms,  and  of  those  cel- 
ebrated conquerors  who  owe  all  their  fame  and  gran- 
deur to  violence  and  usurpation. 

3.   The  excellent  education  of  their  youth. 

The  long  duration  of  the  laws  established  by  Lycur 
gu«,  is  certainly  very  wonderful:  but  the  means  h« 
made  use  of  to  succeed  therein  are  no  less  worthy  of 
admiration.  The  principal  of  these  was  the  extraor- 
dinary care  he  took  to  ha\e  the  Spartan  youth  brought 
up  in  an  exact  and  severe  discipline:  for  (as  Plutarch 
observes)  the  religious  obligation  of  an  oath,  which  ha 
exacted  from  the  citizens,  would  have  been  a  feeble 
tie,  had  he  not  by  education  infused  his  laws  as  it 
were,  into  the  minds  and  manners  of  his  children,  and 
made  them  suck  in  alnvost  with  their  mother's  milk  an 
affection  for  his  institutions.  This  was  the  reason  why 
his  principal  ordinances  subsisted  above  500  years, 
having:  sunk  into  the  very  temper  and  hearts  of  the 
people,  like  a  strong  and  good  dye,7  that  penetratet 
thoroughly.  Cicero  makes  the  same  remark,  and  as- 
cribes the'courage  and  virtue  of  the  Spartans,  not  so 
much  to  their  own  natnra1  v..TfCtjfion  as  to  their  ex- 
cellent education:  Ci'jns  riritims  ?t:t<ixtci  ac  n<>bili- 
tntn  virtus,  nnn  ynUnn  natnra  corroborate  riri);n 
etiam  disciplina  piitatur*  All  this  shows  of  wn/,t  i-ai- 
portanre  it  is  to  a  state  to  take  care  that  their  youth 
be  brought  up  in  a  manner  proper  to  inspire  them 
with  a  love  for  the  laws  of  their  country. 

The  great  maxim  of  Lycurgus,  which  Aristotle  re- 
peals in  express  terms,9  was,  that  as  children  belong 
to  the  state,  their  education  ought  to  be  directed  by 
the  state,  and  the  views  and  interests  of  the  state  only 


•  Pint,  in  vit.  Lyrurs.  p.  5!>. 

«  Ibitl.  ol  in  vit.  'Afreail.  p.  f>14. 

i  'ila-xie  &*Si;  ixfirou  «».'  icrxu{3«  xuiafyxpiri 
Kp.  iii. 

*  Orat.  pro  Flac  n.  03.  •  L.  viii.  Politic. 


'.;.  Plat. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


215 


considered  therein-  It  was  for  this  reason  he  enact- 
ed, that  they  should  b«  educated  all  in  common,  and 
not  left  to  the  hu:iiour  and  caprice  of  their  parents, 
who  generally,  through  a  soft  and  blind  indulgence, 
and  a  mistakc'n  tenderness,  enervate  at  once  both  the 


born  with  a  constitution  that  appeared  too  weak  and 
delicate   to   undergo   the    fatigues   and    exercises  to 
which  the  commonwealth  destined  all  her  subjects! 
Is  it  then  impossible,  and  without  example,  that  chil- • 
dren,  whoare  tender  and  weak  in  their  infancy,  should 


bodies  and  minds  of  their  children.     At  Sparta,  from  j  ever  alter  as  they  grow  up,  and  become  in  time  of  a 
their  tenderest  years,  they  were  inured  to  labour  and  |  robust  and  vigorous  constitution?  Orsurpost  it  were 

f    .  •  L          .  L  • ft *'. I I 1          _  L  •  _  . I .L.I 


fatigue  by  the  exercises  of  hunting  and  racing,  and 
accustomed  betimes  to  endure  hunger  and  thir*t,  hent 
and  cold;  and.  what  is  difficult  to  make  mothers  be- 
lieve, all  these  hard  and  laborious  exercises  tended  to 
procure  them  health,  and  make  their  constitutions  the 
more  vigorous  and  robust;  able  to  bear  the  hardships 
and  fatigues  of  war,  for  which  they  were  all  designed 
from  their  cradles. 


4.  Obedience. 


so,  can  a  man  no  way  serve  his  country,  but  by  the 
strength  of  his  body  ?  Is  there  no  account  to  be  made 
of  his  wisdom,  pruJence,  counsel,  generosity,  courage, 
magnanimity,  and,  in  a  word,  of  all  the  qualities  that 
depend  upon  the  mind  and  the  intellectual  faculties'1 
Omnt'no  Hind  fionestum.  (jucd  ex  animo  czcilto  mag- 


nificoqve  qntfrimnr,  nntmt  ffficiiur,  non  corporii  r»« 
nfcj/j.*     Did  I. \curgus  himselt  render  less  strvice,  or 
do   less   honour  to  Sparta,  bj-  establishing   his  laws, 
|  than    the    greatest  generals  did    by  their  victories? 
But  the  most  excellent  thing  in  the  Spartan  educa-     Agesilaus  was  of  so   small  a  stature,  and  so   mean  in 
tlon,  was  its  teaching  young  people  so  perfectly  well     person,  that  at  the   first   sight  of  him  the  Fgyptianf 
how  to  obey.     It  is  from  hence  the  poet  Simomdes  ;  could  not  help  laughing;  and     et.  liitle  as  he  was,  he 
gives  that  city  such  a  magnificent  epithet,1  which  de-     made  the  great  king  of  Persia  i.v-mble  upon  the  throne 
notes  that  they  alone  knew  how  to   subdue  the  pas-     of  half  the  world. 


sions  of  men,  and  to  render  them  pliant  and  submis- 
sive to  the  laws,  in  the  same  manner  as  horses  are 
taught  to  obey  the  spur  and  the  bridle,  by  being  bro 


ken  and  trained  while  they  are  young 


>y  bi 

For 


this  rea- 


son, Agesilaus  advised  Xenophon  tt»  send  his  children 
to  Sparta,*  that  they  might  learn  there  the  noblest 
and  greatest  of  all  sciences,  that  is,  Low  to  command, 
tod  how  to  obey. 

5.  Retpect  towards  (he  aged. 

One  of  the  lessons  oftenest  and  most  strongly  incul- 
cated upon  the  Lacedaemonian  youth,  was  to  enter- 
tain great  reverence  and  respect  to  old  men,  and  to 
give  them  proofs  of  it  upon  all  occasions,  by  saluting 
them,  by  making  way  for  them,  and  giving  them  place 
in  the  street*,*  bv  rising  up  to  show  them  honour  in 
all  companies  and  public  assemblies;  but  above  all,  hv 
receiving  their  advice,  and  even  their  reproofs,  with 
docilhv  and  submission:  by  these  characteristics  a 
Lacedaemonian  was  known  wherever  he  came:  if  he  | 
had  behaved  otherwise,  it  would  have  been  looked 
upon  as  a  reproach  to  himself,  and  a  dishonour  to  his 
Country.  An  o.ld  man  of  Athens  going  into  the  thea- 
tre once  to  see  a  play,  none  of  his  own  countrymen 
offered  him  a  seat:  hut  when  he  came  near  the  place 
where  the  Spartan  ambassadors  and  their  retinue  were 
sitting,  they  all  rose  up  out  of  reverence  to  his  age, 
•nd  spated  him  in  the  midst  of  them.  I.vsander  there- 
fore had  reason  to  say,*  that  old  age  had  no  where  so 
honourable  an  abode  as  in  Sparta,  and  that  it  was  an 
agreeable  thing  to  grow  old  in  that  city. 

It.  Things  blameable  in  the  lavs  of  Lyciirgits. 

In  order  to  perceive  more  clearlv  the  defects  in  the 
laws  of  I.ycnryii«,  we  have  only  to  compare  them 
with  those  of  Moses,  which  we  know  were  dictated 
hy  more  than  human  wisdom.  But  mv  design  in 
this  place  i*  not  to  enter  into  a  strict  detail  of  the  par- 
ticulars wherein  the  laws  and  institution*  of  1^  cur- 
pus  are  faultv.  I  shall  content  myself  with  making 
only  some  slight  reflections,  which  probably  the  reader 
has  already  anticipated,  as  he  must  have  been  justly 
di«gti«ted  by  the  mere  recital  of  some  of  those  or- 
dinances. 

I.  The  choice  made  «f  the  children  that  were  either 

to  be  brought  up  or  erposed. 
To  beg'.n.  for  instance,  with  that  ordinance  relating 


But  what  i<  jet  stronger  than  all  I  have  said,  has 
any  other  person  a  right  or  power  over  the  lives  of 
men,  than  he  from  whom  they  received  them,  even 
God  himself?  And  does  not  a  legislator  visiblv  usurp 
the  authority  of  God,  whenever  he  arrogates  to  him- 
self such  a  power  without  his  commission?  That  pre- 
cept of  the  decalogue,  which  was  only  a  renewal  of 
the  law  of  nature,  Tliov  shall  not  kill,  universally  con- 
demns all  those  among  the  ancients,  who  imagined 
they  had  a  power  of  life  and  death  over  their  slaves, 
anj  even  over  their  own  children. 

2.  Their  care  caiifined  only  to  the  body. 
The  great  defect  in  Lycurgiis's  laws  (as  Plato  and 
Aristotle  have  observed)  is.  that  they  tended  only  to 
form  a  nation  of  soldiers.  All  that  Ugi^lntor's  thoughts 
seemed  wholly  bent  upon  the  means  of  strengthening 
the  bodies  of  the  people,  without  anj-  concern  for  th* 
cultivation  of  their  minds.  Why  should  he  banish 
from  his  commonwealth  all  arts  and  sciences,  which, 
besides  manj-  other  advantages,8  have  this  most  hap- 
py effect,  that  they  soften  our  manners,  polish  our 
understandings,  improve  the  heart,  and  render  our 
behaviour  civil,  conrteors,  gentle,  and  obliging;  such, 
in  a  word,  as  qualifies  us  for  company  and  society, 
and  make*  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life  agreeable? 
Hence  it  came  to  pass,  that  there  was  something  of  a 
roughness  and  austerity  in  the  temper  and  behaviour 
of  the  Spartans,  and  many  times  even  something  of 
ferocity,  a  failing  that  proceeded  chiefly  from  their 
education,  and  that  rendered  them  disagreeable  and 
offensive  to  all  their  allies. 

3.   Their  barbarovs  cruelty  towirdt  their  children. 

It  was  an  excellent  practice  in  Sparta,  to  accustom 
their  youth  betimes  to  suffer  heat  and  roM,  hunger 
and  thirst,  and  l>v  several  severe  and  laborious  exer- 
cises to  bring  the  bodj-  into  subjection  to  reason,' 
whose  faithful  and  diligent  minister  it  ought  to  be 
in  the  execution  of  all  her  orders  and  injunctions; 
which  it  can  never  do,  if  it  be  not  able  to  undergo  all 
sorts  of  hardships  and  fatigues.  But  was  it  rational 
in  them  to  carry  their  severities  so  far,  as  the  inhuman 
treatment  we  have  mentioned?  and  was  it  not  utterly 
barbarous  nn'l  brutal  in  the  fathers  and  mothers  to  see 
the  blood  trickling  from  the  wounds  of  their  children, 
nay  even  to  see  them  expiring  under  the  lashes,  with- 
out concern  ? 


to  the  choice  they  made  of  their  children,  which  of 
them  were  to  he  brought  up,  and  which  exposed  to 
peri*h;  who  would  not  be  shocked  nt  the  unjust  nnrl 


4.   The  mother's  inhumanity. 

Some   people  admire  the  courage  of  the  Snsrtaa 

inhuman  custom  of  pronouncing  sentence   of  death     mother*,  who  could  hoar  the  news  of  the  death  of 
upon  all  sn:h  infants    as   had   the   misfortune  to  be     their  children  slain  in  battle,  not  only  without  tears, 

but  even  with  a  kind  of  joy  and  satisfaction.     Formy 
part  I  should  think  it  much  better  that  nature  should 


•  A»»«-.u£*  :T  ,.-.  that  't  to  snr.  Timer  tfme 

•  M<:»-    u*tc-    r«*    fi*)fit*Tmr    T«    isiAim 


T-, 


KOI 


I'lut.  in  l.acon.  Inetitut.  p.  037. 

T.v<«m-lruni    Lsredirmnnium   A\rftt  aiont  snlitnm     Ij»- 

irmcino  PXSO  hon-«lif«imum  domicilmm  «en*rtnti«      Cir. 

n.  n.  fi3.     *£v  Aaxita>«>r>  »»A.A.  rr»  vi|>»r>.     Plat,  in 


•  Cirer.  1   i   He  nffir.  n.  79.     Ihid.  n.  76. 

*  Omnp>  artpn  nuihn*  ir'»a  purrilif  ad   homanitatem   ia 
fbrmiri  *'I>-|.     Cir.  Ortt  pro  Artk. 

'  Excrnnrtum  rnrpuf.  et  it.n  effiri^iHuin  p«t  ut  o 
pon<ilin  ratinniqup  |«>«*it  in  pxnequendii  nofotiif  et 
tolerando.  Lib.  i.  deoffie.  n.  79. 


2rG 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


•oiuler    then,  if  gaming   and    hunting,    eating    and 
rinking,  mutual  visits  and  frivolous  discourses,  make 


•how  liPrtflf  a  litlle  no!«  on  such  occasions,  and  that 
Ihe  love  of  one's  country  should  not  utterly  extinguish 
the  sentiment*  of  maternal  tenderness.  One  ol  our 
general*  in  France, who  in  the  heat  of  battle  was  told 
that  his  sun  was  killed,  spoke  much  more  properly  on 
the  subject:  Let  ns  at  present  think,  said  he,  how  to 
conquer  the  enemy;  to-morrow  I  will  mourn  for  my 
ton. 

5.   Their  excessive  leisure. 

Nor  can  I  see  what  excuse  can  be  made  for  that 
law,  imposed  by  Lycurgus  upon  the  Spartans,  which 
enjoined  the  spending  the  whole  of  their  time,  except 
when  they  were  engaged  in  war,  in  idleness  and  in- 
action, fie  left  all  the  arts  and  trades  entirely  to  the 
slaves  and  strangers  that  ived  amongst  them,  and 
put  nothing  into  the  hands  of  the  citizens  but  the  lance 
and  the  shield.  Not  to  mention  the  clanger  there  was 
in  suffering  the.  numbei  of  slaves  that  were  necessary 
for  tilling  the  I  ui:l,  to  increase  to  such  a  degree  as  to 
become  much  greater  than  that  of  their  masters,  which 
was  often  an  occasion  of  seditions  and  riots  among 
them;  how  many  disorders  must  men  .necessarily  fall 
into,  that  have  so  much  leisure  upon  their  hands,  and 
have  no  daily  occupation  or  regular  labour?  This  is 
an  inconvenfence  even  now  but  too  common  among 
our  nobility,  and  which  i>  the  natural  effect  of  their 
injudicious  education.  Except  in  the  time  of  war, 
must  of  our  gentry  spend  their  lives  in  a  most  useless 
and  unprofitable  manner.  They  look^  upon  agricul- 
ture, arts,  and  commerce,  as  beneath  them,  and  de- 
rogatory to  their  gentility.  They  seldom  know  how 
to  handle  any  thing  but  their  swords.  As  for  the 
sciences,  they  take  but  a  very  small  tincture  of  them; 
just. so  much  as  they  cannot  well  be  without;  and 
many  have  not  the  least  knowledge  of  them,  nor  any 
manner  of  taste,  for  books  or  reading.  We  are  not  to 
wo 

drinking, 

up  their  whole  occupation.  What  a  rfe  is  thu  for 
men  that  have  any  parts  or  understanding! 

6.   Their  cruelty  towards  the  Helots. 

Lycurgus  would  be  utterly  inexcusable  if  he  gave 
occasion,  as  he  is  accused  of  having  done,  for  ail  the 
rigour  and  cruelty  exercised  towards  the  Helots  in 
his  republic.  These  Helots  were  slaves  employed  by 
the  Spartans  to  till  the  ground.  It  was  their  custom 
not  only  to  make  these  poor  creatures  drunk,  and  ex- 
pose them  before  theirchiklren,  in  ordeYto  give  them 
an  abhorrence  for  so  shameful  and  odious  a  vice,  but 
tin  v  treated  them  also  with  the  utmost  barbarity,  and 
thought  themselves  at  liberty  to  destroy  them  bv  any 
violence  or  cruelty  whatsoever,  under  pretence  oftheir 
being  always  ready  to  rebel. 

Upon  a  certain  occasion  related  by  Thucydides,' 
2000  of  these  Helots  disappeared  at  once,  without 
any  body's  knowing  what  was  become  of  them.  Plu- 
sarch  pretends,  this  barbarous  custom  was  not  prac- 
ticed tfll  after  Lycurgus's  time,  and  that  he  had  no 
hand  in  it. 

7.  Modesty  and  decency  entirely  neglected. 

But  that  wherein  Lycurgus  appears  to  be  most  cul- 
pable, and  what  most  clearly  shows  the  prodigious 
enormities  and  gross  darkness  in  which  the  Pagans 
were  plunged,  is  the  little  regard  he  showed  for' mo- 
desty and  decency,  in  what  concerned  the  education 
of  girl",  and  the  marriages  of  young  women;  which 
was  without  doubt  the  source  of  those  dhnrdrrs  that 
prevailed  in  Sparta,  as  Aristotle  has  wisely  observed. 
When  we  compare  these  indecent  and  licentious  in- 
stitutions of  the  wisest  legislator  that  ever  profane 
antiquity  could  boast,  with  the  sanctity  and  purity  of 
the  evangelical  precepts;  what  a  noble  idea  does  it 
give  us  of  the  dignity  and  excellence  of  the  Christian 
religion! 

Nor  will  it  give  us  a  less  advantageous  notion  of 
this  pre-eminence,  if  we  compare  the  most  excellent 
and  laulnble  part  of  Lycurgus's  institutions  with  the 
laws  of  the  gospel,  it  is,  we  must  own,  a  wonderful 


i  Lib  hr 


thing,  that  a  whole  people  should  consent  to  a  rhn 
sion  of  their  lands,  which  set  the  poor  upon  an  equai 
footing  with  the  rich;  and  that  by  a  total  exclusion 
of  gold  and  silver,  they  should  reduce  themselves  to 
a  kind  of  voluntary  poverty.  But  the  Spartan  legisla- 
tor, when  he  enacted  these  laws,  had  the  sword  in  hit 
hand;  whereas  the  Christian  Legislator  says  but  a 
word,  Blessed  are  (lie  poor  in  spirit,  and  thousands 
of  the  faithful  through  all  succeeding  generations,  re- 
nounce their  goods,  sell  their  lands  and  estates,  and 
leave  all  to  follow  Jesus  Christ,  their  master,  in  pov- 
erty and  want. 

ARTICLE  VIII. 

THE   GOVERNMENT  OF  ATHENS.      THE  LAWS  OF  SO 

LON.      THE    HISTORY    OF  THAT  REPUBLIC    FROM 

THE  TIME  OF  SOLON  TO   THE  REIGN   OF   DARIUt 

THE   FIRST. 

1  have  already  obseived,  that  Athens  was  at  first 
governed  by  kings.  Hut  they  had  little  more  tluui  the 
name;  for  their  whole  power  being  conlined  to  the 
command  of  the  armies,  vanished  in  time  of  peace. 
Eveiy  man  was  master  in  his  own  house,  where  he 
lived  in  an  absolute  state  ol  independence  ('minis, 
the  last  king  of  Athens,  having  devoted  h'mist  If  to 
die  for  the  public  good,  his  sons  Medon  and  iNilrua 
quarrelled  about  the  succession.  The  Athenians  took 
this  occasion  to  abolish  the  regal  power,  though  it  did 
not  much  incommode  them;  and  declared,  that  Jupi- 
ter alone  was  king  of  Athens;  at  the  very  same  time 
that  the  Jews,^  weary  of  the  theocracy,  that  is,  of 
having  the  true  God  tor  their  king,  would  absolutely 
have  a  man  to  reign  over  them. 

Plutarch  observes,  that  Homer,  when  he  enume- 
rates the  ships  of  the  confederate  Grecians,  gives  the 
name  of  people  to  none  but  the  Athenian*;  from 
whence  il  nitty  be  inferred,  that  the  Athenians  even 
then  had  a  great  inclination  to  a  democratical  govern- 
ment, and  that  the  chief  authority  was  at  that  lime 
vested  in  the  people. 

In  the  place  of  their  kings  they  substituted  a  kind1 
of  governors  for  life,  under  the  title  of  Archons.  But 
this  perpetual  magistracy  appeared  still,  in  the  eye§ 
of  this  tree  people,  as  too  lively  an  ima^e  of  regal 
power,  of  which  they  were  desirous  of  abolt.ihing  even 
the  very  shadow;  for  which  reason,  they  first  reduced 
that  iit'ic  r  to  the  term  of  ten  years,  and  then  to  that 
of  one:  ami  this  they  did  with  the  view  of  resuming  the 
authority  the  more  frequently  into  their  own  hands, 
which  they  never  transferred  to  their  magistrates  but 
with  regp.'t. 

Such  a  limited  power  as  this  was  not  sufficient  to 
restrain  those  turbulent  spirits,  who  were  grown  ex 
cessively  jealous'of  their  liberty  and  nul»:|><  mlt  are 
very  tender  and  apt  to  be  offended  at  any  thing  that 
seemed  to  encroach  upon  their  equality,  and  always 
ready  to  tiike  umbrage  at  whatever  had  the  lca*t  np 
pearance  of  dominion  or  superiority.  From  hence 
arose  continual  factions  and  quarrels:  there  was  no 
agreement  or  concord  a.'iong  them,  either  about  re 
lig'mn  or  government. 

Athene  therefore  continued  a  long  time  incapable 
of  enlarging  her  power,  it  bting  very  happy  tor  hei 
that  she  could  preserve  herseli' from  ruin  in  the  midst 
of  those  long  and  frequent  dissensions,  with  which 
she  had  to  struggle. 

Misfortunes  instruct.  Athens  ksrncd,  at  length, 
that  true  liberty  consists  in  a  dependence  upon  justice 
and  renson.  This  happy  subjection  could  not  be  es- 
tablished, but  by  n  legislator,  She  therefore  pitched 
upon  Draco,  a  man  of  acknowledged  «risdom  and 
integrity.  It  does  not  appear  that 
Greece  had,  before  his  time,  any  A.  M.  3380. 

written  laws.  He  published  some,  Ant.  J.  C.  624. 
whose  rigour,  anticipating,  as  it 
were,  the  Stoical  doctrine,  was  so  great.  thiit  it  pun 
ished  the  smallest  offence,  as  well  us  the  most  enor- 
mous crimes,  equally  with  dealh.  These  laws  of  Dra- 
co, written,  says  Demades,  not  with  ink,  but  with 
blood,  had  the  same  fate  ns  usually  attends  ali  violent 
extremes.  Sentiments  of  humanity  in  the  judge* 


t  Codrns  was  contemporary  with  SauL 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


1217 


compassion  for  the  accused,  whom  they  were  wont 
to  look  upon  rather  as  unfortunate  than  criminal,  and 
the  apprehensions  the  accusers  and  witnesses  were 
under  of  rendering  themselves  odious  to  the  people; 
all  these  motives,  I  say,  concurred  to  produce  a  re- 
nnssuess  in  the  execution  of  the  laws;  which  by  that 
means,  in  process  of  time,  became,  as  it  were  abro- 
gated through  disuse:  and  thus  an  excessive  rigour 
paved  the  way  for  impunity. 

The  danger  of  relapsing  into  their  former  disorders, 
made  them  have  recourse  to  fresh  precautions:  for 
they  were  willing  to  slacken  the  curb  and  restraint  of 
fear,  but  not  to  break  it.  In  order  therefore  to  find 
oot  mitigations,  which  might  make  amends  for  what 
they  took  away  from  the  letter  of 
A  M.  3400.  the  law,  they  cast  their  eyes  upon 
Ant.  J.  C.  60-1.  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  virtuous 
persons  of  his  age,  I  mean  Solon; 
who«e  singular  qualities,  and  especially  his  great 
n-ildiwss,  had  acquired  him  the  affection  and  venera- 
tion of  the  whole  city. 

His  chief  application  had  been  to  the  study  of  phi- 
losophy, and  especially  to  that  part  of  it  which  we 
call  politics,  and  which  teaches  the  art  of  government. 
His  extraordinary  merit  gave  him  one  of  the  first 
ranks  among  the  seven  sage?  of  Greece,  who  render- 
ed the  aye  we  are  speaking  of  so  illustrious.  These 
sages  often  paid  visits  to  one  another.1  One  day  that 
Solon  went  to  Miletus  to  see  Thales,  the  first 'thin? 
he  said  to  him  was,  that  he  wondered  why  he  had 
never  chosen  to  have  either  wife  or  children.  Thales 
made  him  no  answer  then:  but  a  few  davs  after  lie 
contrived  that  a  stranger  should  come  into  their  com- 
pany, and  pretend  that  he  was  just  arrived  from 
Athens,  from  whence  he  had  set  out  about  ten  days 
before.  Solon  asked  him,  if  there  was  no  news  at 
Athens  when  he  came  away.  The  stranger,  who  had 
been  taught  his  lesson,  replied,  that  he  had  heard  of 
nothing  but  the  death  of  a  voung  gentleman,  whose 
funetal  was  attended  by  all  the  town;  because,  as 
they  said,  he  was  the  sori  of  the  worthiest  man  in  the 
city,  who  was  then  absent. — Alas!  cried  Solon,  inter- 
rupting the  man's  story;  how  much  is  the  poor  father 
of  the  youth  to-be  pitied!  But  pray,  what  is  the  gen- 
tlennn's  name? — I  heard  his  name',  replied  the  stran- 
ger, but  I  have  forgotten  it:  I  only  remember,  that 
the  people  talked  much  of  his  wisdom  and  justice. — 
Everv  answer  afforded  new  cause  for  anxiety  and  ter- 
•or  to  the  inquiring:  father,  who  was  so  justly  alarmed. 
•  -Was  it  not,  said  he  at  length,  the  son  of  Solon? — 
f  he  very  same,  replied  the  stranger.  Solon  at  these 
words  rent  his  clothes,  and  beat  his  breast,  and,  ex- 
•:r«s-in^  his  sorrow  by  tears  and  groans,  abandoned 
himself  to  the  most  sensible  affliction.  Thales,  see- 
ing this,  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  said  to  him  with 
B  smile:  Comfort  yourself,  mv  friend;  all  that  has 
been  told  to  you  is  a  mere  fiction.  Now  you  see  the 
reason  why  I  never  married:  it  is  because  I  am  un- 
willing to  expose  myself  to  such  trials  and  afflictions. 

I'lut.-'.rch  has  given  us  a  large  refutation  of  Thales's 
reasoninir,  which  tends  to  deprive  mankind  of  the 
most  natural  and  reasonable  attachments  in  life,  in 
lieu  o  which  the  heart  of  man  will  not  fail  to  substi- 
tute others  of  an  unjust  and  unlawful  nature,  which 
will  expose  him  to  the  same  pains  and  inconveniences. 
The  remedy,  says  this  historian,  against  the  grief  that 
may  arise  from  the  lo«s  of  goods,  of  friends,  or  of 
children,  is  not  to  throw  away  our  estates,  and  reduce 
our.-ii  |ves  to  poverty,  to  make  an  absolute  renunciation 
of  all  friendship,  or  to  confine  ourselves  to  a  state  of 
celibacy;  but  upon  all  such  accidents  and  misfor- 
tunes, to  make  a  ri<jht  use  of  our  reason. 

Athens,*  after  some  interval  of  tranquillity  and 
peace,  which  the  prudence  nnd  courage  of  Solon  had 
procured,  who  was  as  great  a  warrior  as  he  was  a 
statesman,  relapsed  into  her  former  dissensions  about 
Ihe  government  of  the  commonwealth,  and  was  di- 
rided  into  as  many  parties,  as  there  were  different 
torts  of  inhabitants  in  Attica.  For  those  that  lived 
upon  thi>  mountains,  wc:re  fond  of  popular  govern- 
ment: those  in  the  low-lands  were  for  an  oligarchy; 


'  Plui.  in  Polon.  p.  81,82. 
VOL.  I.— 28 


•  Ib.  p.  85,  86. 


and  those  that  dwelt  on  the  sea-coasts,  were  .t>r  having 
a  mixed  government,  compounded  of  those  twu  lorjis 
blinded  together;  and  thtse  hindered  the  other  two 
contending  parties  from  getting  any  ground  of  each 
other.  Besidefc  these,  there  was  a  fourth  partv  which 
consisted  only  of  the  poor,  who  were  grievously  ha- 
rassed and  oppressed  by  the  rich,  on  account  of  their 
debts,  which  they  were  not  able  to  discharge.  This 
unhappy  party  was  determined  to  choose  themselves 
a  chief,  who  should  deliver  them  from  the  inhuman 
severity  of  their  creditors,  and  make  an  entire  change 
in  the  form  of  their  government,  by  making  a  »ew 
division  of  the  lands. 

In  this  extreme  danger  all  the  wise  Athenians  cast 
their  eyes  upon  Solon,  who  was  obnoxious  to  neither 
party;  because  he  had  never  sided  either  with  the  in- 
justice of  the  rich,  or  the  rebellion  of  the  poor;  and 
they  solicited  him  very  earnestly  to  take  the  manage- 
ment of  affairs,  and  to  endeavour  to  put  an  end  to 
these  differences  and  disorders.  He  was  very  unwil- 
ling to  take  upon  him  so  dangerous  a  commission: 
however,  he  was  at  last  chosen  Archon.and  was  con- 
stituted supreme  arbiter  and  legislator,  with  the 
unanimous  consent  of  all  parties;  the  rich  liking-  him, 
as  he  was  rich,  and  the  poor,  because  he  was  honest. 
He  now  had  it  in  his  power  to  make  himself  king:  se- 
veral of  the  citizens  advised  him  to  it;  and  even  the 
wisest  among  them,  not  thinking  it  was  in  the  power 
of  human  reason  to  bring  about  a  favourable  change 
consistent  with  the  laws,  were  not  unwilling  that  the 
supreme  power  should  be  vested  in  one  man,  who 
was  so  eminently  distinguished  for  his  prudence  and 
justice.  But,  notwithstanding  all  the  remonstrances 
that  were  made  to  him,  and  all  the  solicitations  and 
reproaches  of  his  friends,  who  treated  his  refusal  of 
the  diadem  as  an  effect  of  pusillanimity  and  meanness 
of  spirit,  he  was  still  firm  and  unchangeable  in  hi* 
purpose,  and  thought  only  of  settling  a  form  of  gov- 
ernment in  his  country,  that  should  be  the  parent  of  a 
just  and  reasonable  liberty.  Not  venturing  to  meddle 
with  certain  disorders  and  evils  which  he  looke:!  upon 
as  incurable,  he  undertook  to  bring  about  no  other  al- 
teration or  changes,  than  such  as  he  thought  he  could 
persuade  the  citizens  to  comply  with,  by  the  influence 
of  reason :  or  bring  them  into,  by  the  weight  of  his  au- 
thority ;  wisely  mixing,  as  he  himself  said,  authority 
and  power  with  reason  and  justice.  Wherefore,  when 
one  afterwards  asked  him,  if  the  laws  which  he  had 
made  for  the  Athenians,  were  the  best  that  could  be 
given  them;  Yet,  said  he,  the  best  they  were  cnjmltle 
of  receiving: 

The  soul  of  popular  states  is  equality.  But,  for 
fear  of  disgusting  the  rich,  Solon  durst  not  propose 
any  equality  of  lands  and  wealth;  whereby  Attica  as 
well  as  I-aconia,  would  have  resembled  a  pattrnnl  in- 
heritance divided  among  a  number  of  brethren.  How- 
ever, he  went  so  far  as  to  put  an  end  to  the  slavery 
and  oppression  of  those  poor  citizens,  whose  excessive 
debts  and  accumulated  arrears  had  forced  them  to  sell 
their  persons  and  liberty,  and  reduce  themselves  to  a 
state  of  servitude  and  bondage.  An  express  law  was 
made,  which  declared  all  debtors  discharged  and  ac- 

1  quitted  of  all  their  debts. 

This  affair  drew  Solon  into  a  troublesome  scrape,* 
which  gave  him  a  great  deal  of  vexation  and  concern 
When  he  first  determined  to  cancel  the  debts,  he 
foresaw,  that  such  an  edict,  which  had  something  in  it 
contrary  to  justice,  would  be  extremely  offensive.  For 

I  which  reason,  he  endeavoured  in  some  measure  to 
rectify  the  tenor  of  it,  by  introducing  it  with  a  specious 
preamble,  which  set  forth  a  great  many  very  plausible 
pretexts,  and  gave  a  colour  of  equity  and  reas  n  to  the 
law,  which  in  reality  it  had  not.  But  in  order  hereto, 
he  first  disclosed  his  design  to  some  particular  friends, 
whom  he  used  to  consult  in  all  his  affairs,  and  con-, 
certed  with  them  the  form  and  the  terms  in  which  this 
edirt  should  be  expressed.  Now,  before  it  «'as  pub- 
lisher!, his  friends,  who  were  more  interested  than 
faithful,  secretly  borrowed  Inrge  sums  of  money  of 
their  rich  acquaintance,  which  they  laid  out  in  pur- 
chasing of  lands,  as  knowing-  they  would  not  be  at 

|  i 

•  Plut.  in  fWon.  p.  87 
T 


218 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


farted  by  the  edict.  When  the  edict  was  published, 
toe  general  indignation  that  was  raised  by  such  a  base 
and  flagrant  knavery,  fell  upon  Solon,  though  in  fact 
he  had  no  hand  in  it.  But  it  is  not  enough  for  a  man 
in  office  to  be  disinterested  and  upright  himself;  all 
that  surround  and  approach  him  ought  to  be  so  too; 
wife,  relations,  friends,  secretaries,  and  servants.  The 
faults  of  others  are  charged  to  his  account;  all  the 
wrongs,  all  the  rapine,  tiiat  may  be  committed  either 
through  his  negligence  or  connivance,  are  justly  im- 
puted to  him;  because  it  is  his  business,  and  one  of 
the  principal  designs  of  his  being  put  into  trust,  to 
prevent  those  corruptions  and  abuses. 

This  ordinance  at  first  pleased  neither  of  the  two 
parties:  it  disgusted  the  rich,  because  it  abolished  the 
debts;  and  dissatisfied  the  poor,  because  it  did  not  or- 
dain a  new  division  of  the  lands,  as  they  had  expected, 
and  as  Lycurgushad  actually  effected  at  Sparta.  But 
Solon's  influence  at  Athens  fell  very  short  of  that 
which  Lycurgus  had  acquired  in  Sparta;  for  he  had 
no  other  authority  over  the  Athenians,  than  what  the 
reputation  of  his  wisdom,  and  the  confidence  of  the 
people  in  his  integrity,  had  procured  him. 

However,  in  a  liule  time  afterwards,  this  ordinance 
was  generally  approved,  and  the  same  powers  as  be- 
fore were  continued  to  Solon. 

.  He  repealed  all  the  laws  that  had  been  made  by 
Draco,  except  those  against  murder.  The  reason  of 
his  doing  this,  was  the  excessive  rigour  of  those  laws, 
which  inflicted  death  alike  upon  all  sorts  of  offenders; 
so  that  they  who  were  convicted  of  sloth  and  idleness, 
or  they  that  had  stolen  only  a  few  herbs  or  a  little 
fruit  out  of  a  garden,  were  as  severely  punished  as 
those  that  were  guilty  of  murder  or  sacrilege. 

He  then  proceeded  to  the  regulation  of  officers,  em- 
ployments, and  magistracies,  all  which  he  left  in  the 
hands  of  the  rich ;  for  which  re-;or.  b*  distributed  all 
the  rich  citizens  into  three  c!a««e«.  ranging  them  ac- 
cording to  the  difference  of  their  income?  and  reven- 
ues, and  according  to  the  value  and  ostimr.tion  of  each 
particular  man's  estate.  Those  that  W'ire  found  to 
have  500  measures  per  annum,  as  well  in  co^n  as  in 
liquids,  were  placed  in  the  first  rank;  those  that  had 
300  were  placed  in  the  second;  and  those  that  had  but 
200  made  up  the  third. 

All  the  rest  of  the  citizens,  whose  income  fell  short 
of  200  measures,  were  comprised  in  a  fourth  and  last 
class,  and  were  never  admitted  into  any  employ- 
ments.1 But,  in  order  to  make  them  amends  for  this 
exclusion  from  offices,  he  left  them  a  right  to  vote  in 
the  assemblies  and  judgments  of  the  people;  which  at 
first  seemed  to  be  a  matter  of  little  consequence,  but 
in  time  became  extremely  advantageous,  and  made 
them  masters  of  all  the  a'ffairs  of  the  city;  for  most 
of  the  law-suits  and  differences  were  ultimately  refer- 
red to  the  people,  to  whom  an  appeal  lay  from  all  the 
judgment?  of  the  magistrates;  and  in  the  assemblies 
of  the  people  the  greatest  and  most  important  affairs 
of  the  state,  relating  to  peace  or  war,  were  also  de- 
termined. 

The  Areopagus,  so  called  from  the  place  where  its 
u«semblies  were  held,«  had  been  a  long  time  estab- 
lished. Solon  restored  and  augmented  its  authority, 
leaving  to  that  tribunal,  as  the  supreme  court  of  judi- 
cature, a  general  inspection  and  superintendent  over 
ul I  affairs,  as  also  the  care  of  causing  the  laws  (of 
which  he  made  that  body  the  guardian)  to  be  observed 
and  put  in  execution.  Before  his  time,  the  citizens 
if  the  greatest  probity  and  worth  were  made  the 
judges  of  the  \reopagus.  Solon  was  the  first  that 
thought  it  convenient  that  none  should  be  honoured 
•vith  that  dfgnitT,  except  such  as  had  passed  through 
che  office  of  Archon.  Nothing  was  so  august  as  this 
senate;*  and  its  reputation  for  judgment  and  integri- 
ty became  so  very  great,  that  the  Romans  sometimes 


i  Pint,  in  Solon,  p.  88. 

*  Thi<  win  ii  hill  nnar  the  citadel  of  Athoni,  cnllod  Areo- 
pn?u«.  thai  id  to  «av,  t/u  hill  of  MATS  ;  her.aun  it  was  there 
Mnr«  had  been  tried  for  ihe  murder  of  Httlirrothiuc,  the  eon 
of  Vi-ptunp. 

»  Vni.  Mai  1  riii.  e.  1.  Lucian  in  Hermot.  p.  595.  Quin- 
til.  I  vi.  e.  1. 


referred  causes,  which  were  too  intricate  for  their 
own  decision,  to  the  determination  of  this  tribunal. 

Nothing  was  regarded  or  attended  to  here,  but  truth 
alone;  and  to  the  end  that  no  external  objects  might 
divert  the.  attention  of  the  judges,  their  tribunal  was 
always  held  at  night,  or  in  the  dark;  and  the  orators 
were  not  allowed  to  make  use  of  any  exordium,  di- 
gression, or  peroration. 

Solon,  to  prevent  as  much  as  possible  the  tbuse 
which  the  people  might  make  of  the  great  authority  he 
left  them,  created  a  second  council,  consisting  of  400 
men,  100  out  of  every  tribe;  and  ordered  all  causei 
and  allairs  to  be  brought  before  this  council,  and  to 
be  maturely  examined  by  them,  before  they  were 
proposed  to  the  general  assembly  of  the  people:  t> 
the  judgment  of  which  the  sentiments  of  the  other 
were  to  submit,  and  to  which  alone  belonged  the  right 
of  giving  a  final  sentence  and  decision.  It  was  upon 
this  subject  that  Anacharsis  (whom  the  reputation  of 
the  sages  of  Greece  had  brought  from  the  heart  of 
Scythia)  said  one  day  to  Solon,  "  I  wonder  you  should 
empower  wise  men  only  to  deliberate  and  debate 
upon  affairs,  and  leave  the  determination  and  decision 
of  them  wholly  to  fools." 

Upon  another  occasion,  when  Solon  was  conversing 
with  him  upon  some  other  regulations  he  had  in  view, 
Anarharsis,  astonished  that  he  could  expect  to  suc- 
ceed in  his  designs  of  restraining  the  avarice  and  in- 
justice of  the  citizens  by  written  laws,  answered  him 
in  this  manner:  "  Give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that  these 
written  laws  are  just  like  spiders' webs^  the  weak  and 
small  may  be  caught  and  entangled  in  them;  but  the 
rich  and  powerful  will  break  through  them  and  des- 
pise them." 

Solon,  who  was  an  able  and  prudent  man,  was  very 
sensible  of  the  inconveniences  that  attend  a  democra- 
cy, or  popular  government:  but,  having  thoroughly 
studied,  and  being  perfectly  well  acquainted  with,  the 
character  and  disposition  of  the  Athenians,  he  knew 
it  would  be  a  vain  attempt  to  take  the  sovereignty  out 
of  the  people's  hands;  and  that  if  they  parted  with  it 
at  one  time,  they  would  soon  resume  it  at  another  by 
force  and  violence.  He  therefore  contented  himself 
with  limiting  their  power  by  the  authority  of  the 
Areopagus  and  the  council  of  Four  Hundred  ;  judg- 
ing, that  the  state,  being  supported  and  strengthened 
by  these  two  powerful  bodies,  as  by  two  good  anchors, 
would  not  be  go  liable  to  commotions  and  disorder! 
as  it  had  been,  and  that  the  people  would  enjoy  more 
tranquillity. 

I  shall  mention  only  some  of  the  laws  which  Solon 
made,  by  which  the  reader  may  be  able  to  form  a 
judgment  of  the  rest.  In  the  first  place,4  every  par- 
ticular person  was  authorised  to  espouse  the  quarrel 
of  any  one  that  waa  injured  and  insulted;  so  that  the 
first  comer  might  prosecute  the  offender,  and  bring 
him  to  justice  for  the  outrage  he  had  committed. 

The  design  of  this  wise  legislator  by  this  ordinance 
was,  to  accustom  his  citizens  to  have  a  fellow-feeling 
of  one  another's  sufferings  and  misfortunes,  as  they 
were  all  members  of  one  and  the  same  body. 

By  another  law,*  those  persons  that  in  public  dif- 
ferences and  dissensions  did  not  declare  themselves 
of  one  party  or  other,  but  waited  to  see  how  thin<*« 
would  go  before  they  determined,  were  declared  infa- 
mous, condemned  to  perpetual  banishment,  and  to 
have  all  their  estates  confiscated.  Solon  had  learnt, 
from  long  experience  and  deep  reflection,  that  the 
rich,  the  powerful,  and  even  the  wise  and  virtuous, 
are  usually  the  most  backward  to  expose  thrmsrlves 
to  the  inconveniences  which  public  dissensions  and 
troubles  produce  in  society;  and  that  their  zeal  for 
the  public  good  does  not  render  them  10  vigilant  and 
active  in  the  defence  of  it.  as  the  passions  of  the  fac- 
tious render  them  industrious  to  destroy  it;  that  the 
right  side  being  thus  abandoned  by  those  that  are  ca- 
pable of  giving  more  weight,  authority,  and  strength 
to  it  by  their  union  and  concurrence,  becomes  unable 
to  grapple  with  the  audacious  and  violent  enterprise* 
of  a  few  daring  innovators.  To  prevent  this  niis'br- 
tune,  which  may  be  attended  with  the  most  fatal  con 


«  Plut.  in  Solon,  p  88. 


•  Ibid.  p.  80. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


219 


sequences  to  a  state,  Solon  judged  it  proper  to  force 
the.  well  affected,  by  the  fear  of  greater  inconveni- 
ences to  themselves,  to  declare  at  the  very  beginning 
of  any  commotion,  for  the  party  that  was  in  the  right, 
tnd  to  animate  the  spirit  and  courage  of  the  best  citi- 
zens by  engaging  with  them  in  the  common  danger. 
By  this  method  of  accustoming  the  minds  of  the  peo- 
ple to  look  upon  that  man  almost  as  an  enemy  and  a 
traitor,  that  snould  appear  indifferent  to,  and  uncon- 
cerned at,  the  misfortunes  of  the  public,  he  provided 
the  state  with  a  quick  and  sure  resource  against  the 
sudden  enterprises  of  wicked  and  profligate  citizens. 

Solon  abolitihed  the  giving  of  portions  in  marriage 
witL  young  women  unless  they  were  only  daughters;1 
and  jn'ered  that  the  bride  should  carry  no  other  for- 
tunt  to  her  husband  than  three  suits  of  clothes,  and 
some  household  goods  of  little  value;  for  he  would  not 
have  matrimony  become  a  traffic,  and  a  mere  com- 
merce of  interest;  but  desired  that  it  should  be  re- 
garded as  sn  honourable  fellowship  and  society,  in 
order  to  raise  subjects  to  tho  state,  to  make  the  mar- 
ried pair  live  agreeably  and  harmoniously  together, 
and  to  give  continual  testimony  of  mutual  love  and 
tenderness  to  each  other. 

Before  Solon's  time,  the  Athenians  were  not  allow- 
ed to  make  their  wills;  the  wealth  of  the  deceased  al- 
ways devolved  upon  his  children  and  family.  Solon's 
law  allowed  every  one  that  was  childless,  to  dispose 
of  his  whole  estate  as  he  thought  fit;  preferring  by 
that  means  friendship  to  kindred,  and  choice  to  ne- 
cessity and  constraint,  and  rendering  every  man  truly 
master  of  his  own  fortune,  by  leaving  him  at  liberty 
to  bestow  it  where  he  pleased.  This  law  however  did 
not  authorize  indifferently  all  sorts  of  donations:  it 
justified  and  approved  ot  none  but  those  that  were 
made  freely  and  without  any  compulsion ;  without 
having  the  mind  distempered  and  intoxicated  by  po- 
tions or  charms,  or  perverted  and  seduced  by  the 
allurements  and  caresses  of  a  woman;  for  this  wise 
lawgiver  was  justly  persuaded,  that  there  is  no  differ- 
ence to  be  made  between  being  seduced  and  being 
forced,  looking  upon  artifice  and  violence,  pleasure 
and  pain,  in  the  same  light,  when  they  are  made  use 
of  as  mean?  to  impose  upon  men's  reason,  and  to  cap- 
tivate the  liberty  of  their  understandings. 

Another  regulation  he  made  was  to  lessen  the  re- 
wards of  the  victors  at  the  Isthmian  and  Olympic 
games,8  and  to  fix  them  at  a  certain  value,  t;i*.  100 
drachmas,  which  make  about  two  pound*,  for  the  first 
sort;  and  500  drachmas,  or  about  ten  pounds,  for  the 
second.  He  thought  it  a  shameful  thing,  that  athleta? 
and  wrestlers,  a  sort  of  people  not  only  useless,  but 
often  dangerous  to  the  state,  should  have  any  consi- 
derable rewards  allotted  them,  which  ought  rather  to 
be  reserved  for  the  families  of  those  persons  who  died 
in  the  service  of  their  country ;  it  being  very  just  and 
reasonable,  that  the  state  should  support  and  provide 
for  such  orphans,  who  probably  might  come  in  time 
to  follow  the  good  examples  of  their  fathers. 

In  order  to  encourage  arts,  trades,  and  manufac- 
tures, the  senate  of  the  Areopagus  was  charged  with 
the  care  of  inquiring  into  the  ways  and  means  that 
every  man  made  use  of  to  gain  his  livelihood,  and  ol 
chastising  and  punishing  all  those  who  led  an  idle 
life.  Besides  the  fore-mentioned  view  of  bringing  arts 
and  trades  into  a  flourishing  condition,  this  regulation 
was  founded  upon  two  other  reasons  still  more  im- 
portant. 

First,  Solon  considered,  that  such  persons  a»  have 
no  fortune,  and  rt.ake  use  of  no  methods  of  industry 
to  gain  their  livelihood,  ar«>  ready  to  employ  all  man- 
ner of  unjust  and  unlawful  means  lor  acquiring  mo- 
ney:  and  that  the  necessity  of  substituting  some  way 
or  other  disposes  them  for  committing  «ll  sorts  of 
misdemeanour?,  rapine,  knaveries,  and  frauds;  from 
which  springs  up  a  school  of  vice  in  the  bosom  of  the 
commonwealth;  and  such  a  leaven  gains  ground,  as 
does  not  fail  to  spread  its  infection,  and  by  degrees 
corrupt  the  manners  of  the  public. 

In  the  second  place,  the  most  able  statesmen  have 


i  Plut.  in  Solon,  p.  89. 

•  Hut.  p.  01     Diog  Lacrt.  in  Soion.  p.  37. 


always  looked  upon  these  indigent  and  idle  people 
as  a  troop  of  dangerous,  restless,  and  turbulent  spirits, 
eager  alter  innovation  and  change,  always  rtaJy  for 
seditions  and  insurrections,  and  interested  in  revolu- 
tions of  the  state,  by  which  alone  they  can  hope  to 
change  their  own  situation  and  fortune.  It  was  for 
all  these  reasons,  that  in  the  law  we  are  speaking  of, 
Solon  declared,  that  a  son  should  not  be  obliged  to 
support  his  father  in  old  age  or  necessity,  if  the  latter 
had  not  taken  care  to  have  his  son  brought  up  to  some 
trade  or  occupation.  All  children  that  were  spurious 
and  illegitimate,  were  exempted  from  the  same  duty: 
for  it  is  evident,  says  Solon,  that  whoever  thus  con- 
temns the  dignity  and  sanctity  of  matrimony,  ha* 
never  had  in  view  the  lawful  end  we  ought  to  propose 
to  ourselves  in  having  children,  but  only  the  gratifi- 
cation of  a  loose  passion.  Having  then  satisfied  his 
own  desires,  he  has  no  proper  right  over  the  persons 
who  may  spring  from  this  disgraceful  intercourse, 
upon  whose  lives,  as  well  as  births,  he  ha*  entailed 
~n  indelible  infamy  and  reproach. 

It  was  prohibited  to  speak  any  ill  of  the  dead:*  be- 
cause religion  directs  us  to  account  the  dead  as  sacred, 
justice  requires  us  to  spare  those  that  are  no  more, 
and  good  policy  should  hinder  hatred  from  becoming 
'immortal. 

It  was  also  forbidden  to  affront  or  give  ill  language 
to  any  body  in  the  temples,  in  courts  of  judicature,  in 
public  assemblies,  and  in  the  theatres,  during  the  time 
of  representation:  for  to  be  no  where  able  to  govern 
our  passions  and  resentments,  argues  too  untractable 
and  licentious  a  disposition;  as  on  the  other  hand,  to 
restrain  them  at  all  times,  and  upon  all  occasions,  is 
a  virtue  beyond  the  strength  of  mere  human  nature, 
and  a  perfection  reserved  for  the  evangelical  law. 

Cicero  observes,  that  this  wise  legislator  of  Athens, 
whose  laws  were  in  force  even  in  his  time,  had  pro- 
vided no  law  against  parricide;  and  being  asked  the 
reason  why  he  had  not,  he  answered:  "That  to  make 
laws  against,  and  ordain  punishments  for,  a  crime  that 
hitherto  had  never  been  known  or  heard  of.  was  the 
way  to  introduce  it,  rather  than  to  prevent  it."4  I 
omit  several  of  his  laws  concerning  marriage  and 
adultery,  in  which  there  are  remarkable  and  manifest 
contradictions,  and  a  great  mixture  of  light  and  dark- 
ness, knowledge  and  error,  which  we  generally  find 
even  among  the  very  wisest  of  the  heathens,  who  had 
no  established  principles. 

After  Solon  had  published  his  laws,  and  engaged 
the  people  by  public  oath  to  observe  them  religiously, 
at  least  for  the  term  of  100  years,  he  thought  proper 
to  remove  from  Athens,  in  order  to  give  them  time  to 
take  root,  nnd  to  gather  strength  by  custom;  as  also 
to  rid  himself  of  the  trouble  and  importunity  of  those 
who  came  to  consult  him  about  the  meaning  of  his 
laws,  and  to  avoid  the  complaints  and  ill  will  of  others:" 
for,  as  he  said  himself,  in  great  undertakings  it  is 
hard  (if  not  impossible)  to  please  all  parties.  He  was 
absent  ten  years,  in  which  interval  of  time  we  are  to 
place  his  journeys  into  Egypt,  into  Lydia,  to  visit 
king  Croesus,  and  into  several  other 
countries.  At  his  return  he  found  A.  M.  3445. 

the  whole  city  in  Commotion  and  Ant.  J.  C.  559, 
trouble;*  the  three  old  factions 
were  revived,  and  had  formed  three  different  parties. 
Lvcurgus  WHS  at  the  head  of  the  people  thnt  inhabited 
trie  low-lands;  Megacles,  son  of  Alcnineon,  was  the 
leader  of  the  inhabitants  upon  the  sea-coast;  and  Pi- 
sistratus  had  declared  for  the  mountaineers,  to  whom 
were  joined  the  handicraftsmen  and  labourers  who 
lived  by  their  industry,  and  who  were  particularly 
hostile  to  the  rich:  of  these  three  readers  the  two  lat- 
ter were  the  most  powerful  and  considerable. 

Meijacle?  was  the  son  of  that  Alcmn?on  whom  Croe- 
sus had  extremely  enriched  for  a  particular  sen  ice 
which  he  had  done  him  *  He  had  likewise  marrieel  • 
lady,  who  hail  brought  him  an  immense  portion:  her 


•  Plut   in  Solon,  p.  89. 

•  Siipiontpr  fprinne  diritnr,  rum  He  on  nihil  tnnTcri*.  i\uo4 
antea  ciimmissum   nun  r-rnt ;  ne,  non   turn  prntubere    qnui 
artmon.-re.  vidrri'tur.      fro.  Rose.  Ai*tr,  n.  70. 

•  Plut.  in  Solon,  p  !>4. 

•  Herod,  lib.  vi.  c.  105—131. 


220 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE 


kame  was  Agarista.  the  daughter  of  Clisthenes,  tyrant 
of  Sicyon.  This  Clisthene s  was  tlie  richest  and  most 
opuleiit  prince  at  this  time  in  Greece.  In  order  to  be 
able  to  choose  a  worthy  son-in-law,  and  to  know  his 
temper,  manners,  and  character,  from  his  own  expe- 
rience, C'listhenes  invited  al!  the  young  noblemen  of 
Greece  to  come  and  spend  a  year  with  him  al  his 
house;  fc/this  was  an  ancient  custom  in  that  country. 
Several  youths  accepted  the  invitation,  and  came  from 
different  parts  to  the  number  of  thirteen.  .Nothing 
was  seen  every  day  but  races,  games,  tournaments, 
magnificent  entertainments,  and  conversations  upon 
all  sort*  of  topics.  One  of  the  gentlemen,  who  had 
hitherto  surpassed  all  his  competitors,  lost  the  prin- 
cess, bv  having  made  use  of  some  indecent  gestures 
and  pDStures  in  his  (lancing,  with  which  her  father 
was  extremely  offended.  Clisthenes,  at  the  end  of  the 
year,  declared  for  Megacles,  and  sent  the  rest  of  the 
noblemen  away,  loaded  with  civilities  and  presents. 
Such  was  Megacles. 

Pisistratus  was  a  well-bred  man,1  of  a  gentle  and 
Insinuating  behaviour,  ready  to  succour  and  assist  the 
poor;*  prudent  and  moderate  towards  his  enemies:  a 
most  artful  and  accomplished  dissembler;  and  one  who 
had  all  the  exterior  of  virtue,  even  beyond  the  most 
virtuous;  who  seemed  to  be  the  most  zealous  stickler 
for  equality  among  the  citizens,  and  who  absolutely 
declared  against  all  innovations  and  change. 

It  was  not  very  hard  for  him  to  impose  upon  the 
people  with  all  this  artifice  and  address.  But  Solon 
quickly  saw  through  his  disguise,  and  perceived  the 
drift  of  all  his  seeming  virtue  and  fair  pretences;  how- 
ever he  thought  fit  to  observe  measures  with  him  in 
the  beginning,  hoping,  perhaps,  by  gentle  methods  to 
bring  him  back  to  his  duty. 

It  was  at  this  time8  Thespis  began  to  change  the 
Grecian  tragedy:*  I  say  change:  because  it  was  in- 
vented long  before.  This  novelty  drew  aFi  the  world 
after  it.  Solon  went  among  the  rest  for  the  sake  of 
hearing  Thespis,  who  acted  himself,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  ancient  poets.  When  the  play  was 
ended,  he  called  to  Thespis,  and  asked  him,  ""Whe- 
ther he  was  not  ashamed  to  utter  such  lies  before  so 
many  people?"  Thespis  made  answer,  "That  there 
was  no  harm  in  lies  of  that  sort,  and  in  poetical  fic- 
tions, which  were  made  only  for  diversion." — "No," 
replied  Solon,  giving  a  great  stroke  with  his  stick 
upon  the  ground  ;  "but  if  we  suffer  and  approve  of 
lying  for  our  own  diversion,  it  will  quickly  find  its 
way  into  our  serious  engagements,  and  all  our  busi- 
ness and  affairs." 

In  the  mean  lime  Pisistratns  still  pushed  on  his 
point;  and,  in  order  to  accomplish  it,  made  use  of  a 
stratagem  that  succeeded  as  well  as  he  could  expect  5 
He  gave  himself  several  wounds;6  and  in  that  condi- 
tion, with  his  body  all  bloody,  he  caused  himself  to 
be  carried  in  a  chariot  into  the  market  place,  where 
he  inflame:!  the  populace,  by  giving  them  to  under- 
stand that  his  enemies  had  treated  him  in  that  manner, 
and  that  he  was  the  victim  of  his  zeal  for  the  public- 
good. 

An  assembly  of  the  people  was  immediately  con- 
vened: and  there  it  was  resolved,  in  spite  of  all  the 
remonstrances  Solon  could  make  against  it,  that  fifty 
guards  should  be  allowed  Pisistratus  for  the  security 
of  hi«  nerson.  He  soon  augmented  the  number  as 
much  as  he  thought  fit,  and  bv  their  means  made  him- 
telf  ms»ter  of  the  citadel.  All  his  enemies  betook 
themselves  to  flight,  and  the  whole  city  was  in  great 

i  Plat,  in  Solon,  p.  05. 

•  W'1  are  not  here  to  understand  «uch  as  he»<feH  or  fi«k"d 
tlms  :  for  :n  those  times.  8avs  loorrates.  there  wns  no  citizen 
that  died  of  hunjer,  or  dishonoured  his  city  by  begging. 
Oral.  Jlrrop.  p.  300. 

i  Plut.  in  Solon,  p.  05. 

«  Traifdv  wn^  in  l-.eing  a  bin?  time  before  Thospig  ;  hut 
it  wa«  onlv  B  cl'orus  afnemon*  thnt  pan?,  nnd  said  opprobri- 
ous things  to  one  anol In  r.  Thespis  « sis  i  he  fir*!  that  im- 
proved ihisrlioru*  by  the  addition  of  a  eh:irarter.  who,  in 
order  to  <:ivf  inp  re*t  time  to  lake  breath,  nnd  10  recover 
th(-'r  spirits,  recitr-d  an  adventure  of  some  illustrious  person. 
And  this  recital  srave  occasion  afterwards  for  introducing 
the  suhierts  of  traredies. 

'  Herod  1.  i.  c.  59—64.  •  Plut.  In  Solon,  p.  05,  96. 


consternation  and  disorder,  except  Solon,  who  loucnj 
reproached  the  Athenians  with  their  cowardice  and 
folly,  and  the  tyrant  with  his  treachery.  Upon  hit 
being  asked  what  it  was  that  gave  him  so  much  firm- 
ness and  resolution?  //  is,  said  he,  my  old  age.  He 
was  indeed  very  old,  and  did  not  seem  to  riik  much, 
as  the  end  of  his  life  was  very  near:  though  it  often 
happens,  that  men  grow  fonder  of  life  in  proportion 
as  they  have  less  reason  and  right  to  desire  it  should 
be  prolonged.  But  Pisistratus,  after  he  liad  subdued 
all,  thought  this  conquest  imperfect  till  he  had  gained 
Solon:  and  as  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  means 
that  are  proper  to  conciliate  an  old  man,  he  spared 
no  caresses,  omitted  nothing  thnt  could  tend  to  soften 
and  win  upon  him,  and  showed  him  all  possible 
marks  of  friendship  and  esteem,  doing  him  all  man- 
ner of  honour,  having  him  often  about  his  person,  and 
publicly  professing  a  great  veneration  for  his  laws; 
which  in  truth  he  both  observed  himself,  and  caused 
to  be  observed  by  others.  Solon  seeing  it  was  im- 
possible either  to  bring  Pisistratus  by  fair  means  to 
renounce  this  usurpation  or  to  depose  him  by  force, 
thought  it  a  point  of  prudence  not  to  exasperate  the 
tyrant  by  rejecting  the  advances  he  made  him,  and 
hoped,  at  the  same  time,  that  by  entering  into  his 
confidence  and  counsels,  he  might  at  least  be  capable 
of  conducting  and  turning  into  a  proper  channel  a 
power  which  he  could  not  abolish,  and  of  mitigating 
the  mischief  and  calamity  that  he  had  not  been  able 
to  prevent. 

Solon  did  not  survive  the  liberty  of  his  country  two 
years  complete:  for  Pisistratus  made  himself  master 
of  Athens,  under  the  archon  Comias,  the  first  year  of 
the  51  st  Olympiad,  and  Solon  died  the  year  follow- 
ing, under  the  archon  Hegestratus,  who  succeeded 
Comias. 

The  two  parties,  the  heads  of  which  were  I.ycur 
gus  and  Megacles,  uniting,  drove  Pisistratus  out  of 
Athens.  He  was,  however,  soon  recalled  by  Mega- 
cles, who  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage.  But  & 
difference  that  arose  upon  occasion  of  this  match, 
having  embroiled  them  afresh,  the  Alcmfeonidse  had 
the  worst,  and  were  obliged  to  retire.  Pisistratns  was 
twice  deposed,  and  twice  found  means  to  reinstate 
himself.  His  artifices  acquired  him  his  power,  nnd  his 
moderation  maintained  him  in  it:  and  without  doubt 
his  eloquence,7  which  even  in  Tolly's  judgment  was 
very  great,  rendered  him  very  acceptable  to  the  Athe- 
nians who  were  but  too  apt  to  be  affected  with  the 
charm«  of  oratory,  as  it  made  them  forget  the  care  of 
their  libertr.  An  exact  submission  to  the  laws  distin- 
guished Pis"i«tratus  from  most  other  usurpers:  and  the 
mildness  of  his  government  was  such  as  might  make 
many  a  lawful  sovereign  blush.  For  which  reason 
the.  character  of  Pisistratns  has  been  thought  worthy 
of  being  set  in  opposition  to  that  of  other  tyrants. 
Cicero,  'doubting:  what  use  Cspsar  would  make  of  his 
victory  at  Pharsalia,  wrote  to  his  dear  friend  Aiticus, 
JVe  do  not  yet  knoir,  whether  the  destimi  of  Rnme 
will  have  us  groan  under  a  Phalaris,  or  live  under  a 
Pis'itratiis.9 

This  tyrant,  indeed,  if  we  are  to  call  him  so.  always 
showed  himself  very  popular  and  moderate;  nnd  had 
such  a  command  of  his  temper.9  as  to  bear  reproaches 
and  insults  with  patience,  when  he  had  it  in  his  power 
to  revenge  them  with  a  word.  His  garden*  and 
orchards  were  open  to  all  the  citizens:10  in  which  h« 
was  afterwards  imitated  by  Cimon.  It  is  sa'rl  he  wai 
the  first  who  opened  a  public  library  in  Athens,1* 
which  after  his  time  was  much  augmented,  and  at  lart 
carried  into  Persia  by  Xerxes,  when  he  took  the  city. 
But  Zeleucus  Nicnnor,  a  longtime  afterwards,  caused 
it  to  he  brought  back  to  Athens.  Cicero1*  thinks  also 

i  Pitintratu*  direndo  tnntiim  valuisse  diritnr.  ui  ei  Athe 
nienaei  rejium  iniperium  orationo  capti  permitterent.  fal 
Mai  1.  viii.  c.  0. 

Qnis  dortior  ii«d.-m  temporihus,  aut  ru.jus  eloqiientia  lit* 
ri<-  insfnrtior  fui??e  traditur,  nuam  Pisistrati  ?  Cic.dtOrmt 
I.  iii  n  irr. 

•  [nrertum  est  Phalnrimnf,  an  Pisi«tratum,  (it  imitatuio* 
Jld  At  ie.  I.  vii    Ep.  xix. 

•  V  il.  Max.  I.  ».  c.  1.  »•  A  then.  1.  xii.  p.  /532. 

"  -lul.  Gel.  I.  vi.c.17.  i*  Lib.  iii.  de  Oral   A   13* 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


221 


It  was  Pisistratus  who  first  made  the  Athenians  ac- 
quainted with  the  poems  of  Homer;  who  arranged 
the  books  in  the  order  in  which  r  s  DOW  find  them, 
whereas  before  they  were  confused  and  not  digested; 
end  who  first  caused  them  to  be  publicly  read  at  the 
feasts  called  Panathcna>a.  Plato  ascribes  this  honour 
to  his  son  Hipparchus.1 

Pisistratus  died  in  tranquillity,2  and  transmitted  to 
bis  sons  tiie  sovereign  power,  which  he  had  usurped 
thi:t\  \ears  before;  seventeen  of  which  he  had  reign- 
*u  in  peace. 

His  sons  were  Hippias  and  Hip- 
A  M.  3473.  parchus.  Thucydide*  adds  a  third, 
Ant.  J.  C.  526.  whom  he  calls 'Thessalus.  They 
seem  to  have  inherited  from  their 
father  an  affection  for  learning  and  learned  men.  Pla- 
to, who  attributes  to  Hipparchus  what  we  have  said 
concerning  the  poem?  of  Homer,3  adds,  that  he  in- 
vited to  Athens  the  famous  poet  Anacreon,  who  was 
of  Teos.  a  city  of  Ionia;  and  that  he  sent  a  vessel  of 
fifty  oars  on  purpose  for  him.  He  likewise  entertain- 
rd  at  his  house  Simonides  another  famous  poet  of  the 
isle  of  Ceos,  one  of  the  Cyclades,  in  the  jtgean  sea, 
to  whom  he  gave  <\  large  pension,  and  made  very  rich 
presents.  The  design  of  these  princes  in  inviting  men 
of  letters  to  Athens  was,  says  Plato,  to  soften  and  cul- 
tivate the  minds  of  the  citizens,  am!  to  infuse  into  them 
a  relish  and  love  for  virtue,  h\-  giving  them  a  taste  for 
learning  and  the  sciences.  Their  care  extended  even 
to  the  instructing  of  the  peasants  and  country  people, 
by  erecting  not  only  in  the  streets  of  the  city,  but  in 
all  the  roads  and  highways,  statues  of  stone,  colled 
Mercuries,  with  grave  sentences  and  moral  maxims 
carved  upon  them;  in  which  manner  those  silent  mon- 
itors gave  instructive  lessons  to  all  passengers.  Plato 
seems  to  suppose  that  Hipparchus  had  the  authority, 
or  that  the  two  brothers  reigned  together.  But  Thu- 
cydides  shew?,*  that  Hippias,  as  the  eldest  of  the 
sons,  succeeded  hi*  father  in  the  government. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  their  reign  in  the  whole,  after  the 
death  of  Pisistratus,  was  only  of  eighteen  years'  dura- 
tion: it  ended  in  the  following  manner. 

Harmodius  and  Aristogiton,  both  citizen?  of  Athens, 
had  contracted  a  very  strict  friendship.5  Hipparchus, 
ftngry  with  the  former  for  a  personal  affront  he  pre- 
tended to  have  received  from  him,  endeavoured  to 
revenge  himself  upon  his  sister,  by  putting  a  public 
iffront  upon  her,  obliging  her  shamefully  to  retire 
from  a  solemn  procession,  in  which  she  was  to  carry 
one  of  the  sacred  baskets,  alleging,  that  she  was  no't 
in  a  fit  condition  to  assist  at  such  a  ceremony.  Her 
brother,  and  still  more  his  friend,  being  stung  to  the 
quick  hy  so  gross  and  outrageous  an  affront,  took 
from  that  moment  a  resolution  to  attack  the  tyrants. 
And  to  do  it  the  more  effectually,  they  waited  for  the 
opportunity  of  a  festival,  which  they  judged  would  be 
very  favourable  for  their  purpose:  this  was  the  feast 
of  the  Panathenaea,  in  which  the  ceremonv  required 
that  all  the  tradesmen  and  artificers  should  be  under 
arms.  For  the  greater  security,  they  admitted  only 
a  very  small  number  of  the  citizens  into  their  secret: 
conceiving  that  upon  the  first  motion  all  the  rest 
would  join  them.  The  day  being  come,  ther  went 
betimes  into  the  market-place,  armed  with  daggers. 
Hippias  came  out  of  the  palace,  and  went  to  the  Cera- 
micns,  which  was  a  place  without  the  city,  where  the 
company  of  guards  then  were,  to  give  the  necessary 
orders  for  the  ceremony.  The  two  friends  bavins:  fol- 
lowed him  thither,  saw  one  of  the  conspirators  talking 
»ery  fan.-iliarly  with  him,  which  made  them  appre- 
hend they  were  betrayed.  They  could  have  executed 
their  design  that  moment  upon  Hippias;  but  were 
willing:  to  begin  their  vengeance  upon  the  author  of 
the  affront  they  had  received.  They  therefore  return- 
ed into  the  City,  where,  meeting  with  Hipparchus, 
tlipy  killed  him;  but  being  immediately  apprehend- 
ed, themselves  were  slain  and  Hippias  found  means 
to  dispel  the  storm. 

After  this  affair,  he  no  longer  observed  any  mea- 


sures, and  reigned  like  at  "ue  tyrant,  putting  to  death 
a  vast  number  of  citizens.  To  guard  himself  for  the 
future  against  a  like  enterprise,  and  to  secure  a  safe 
retremt  for  himself,  in  case  cf  any  accident,  fle  endea- 
voured to  strengthen  himstlf  by  a  foreign  support, 
and  to  that  end  gave  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  'ha 
son  of  the  tyrant  of  Lampsacus. 

In  the  mean  time,'  the  Alcmneonidre,  who  from  the 
bee-inning  of  the  revolution,  had  bten  banished  from 
Athens  by  Pisistratus,  and  who  saw  their  hopes  frus- 
trated by  the  bad  success  of  the  last  conspiracy,  did 
not  however  lose  courage,  but  turned  tin  ir  views 
another  way.  As  they  were  very  rich  and  powerful, 
they  got  themselves  appointed  bv  the  Amphictyons, 
who  constituted  the  general  council  of  Greece,  to  su- 
perintend the  rebuilding  of  the  temple  of  Delphi,  for 
the  sum  of  300  talents,  or  300,000  crow  ns.'  As  they 
were  naturally  generous,  and  had  besides  th<  ir  rea- 
sons for  being  so  on  this  occasion,  they  added  to  this 
sum  a  great  deal  of  their  own  money,  and  made  the 
whole  front  of  the  temple  all  of  Parian  marble,  at 
their  particular  expense;  whereas  by  the  contract 
made  with  the  Amphictyons,  it  was  only  to  have  been 
made  of  common  stone. 

The  liberality  of  the  Alcmseonidae  was  not  altoge- 
ther a  free  bounty;  neither  was  their  magnificence 
towards  the  god  of  Delphi  a  pure  effect  of  religion: 
policy  was  the  chief  motive.  They  hoped  by  this 
mean's  to  acquire  great  influence  in  the  temple,  and 
it  happened  according  to  their  expectation.  The 
money,  which  they  plentifully  poured  into  the  hands 
of  the  priestess,  feii.lered  lh(-m  absolute  mastt  rs  of 
the  oracle,  and  of  the  pretended  god  who  presided 
over  it,  and  who  for  the  future  becoming  their  echo, 
did  no  more  than  faithfully  repeat  the  words  they  dic- 
tated to  him,  and  gratefully  lent  them  the  assistance 
of  his  voice  and  authority.  *  As  often  therefore  as  any 
Spartan  came  to  consult  the  priestess,  whether  upon 
his  own  affairs  or  upon  those  of  the  state,  no  promise 
was  ever  made  him  of  the  god's  assistance,  but  upon 
condition  that  the  Lacedaemonians  should  lU  liver 
Athens  from  the  yoke  of  tyranny.  This  order  was  so 
often  repeated  to  them  by  the  oracle,  that  they  re- 
solved at  last  to  make  war  against  the  Pisistratidse, 
though  they  were  under  the  strongest  engagements 
of  friendship  and  hospital'*y  with  them:  herein  pre- 
ferring the  will  of  God,  says  Herodotus,  to  all  human 
considerations.* 

The  first  attempt  of  this  kind  miscarried:  and  the 
troops  they  sent  against  the  tyrant  were  repulsed  with 
loss.  Notwithstanding  a  little  time  after,  they  made 
a  second,  which  seemed  to  promise  no  better  success 
than  the  first;  because  most  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
seeing  the  siege  they  had  laid  before  Athens  likely  to 
continue  a  great  wHile,  retired  and  left  only  a  small 
number  of  troops  to  carry  it  on.  But  the  tyrant's 
children,  who  had  been  clandestinely  conveyed  out 
of  the  city,  in  order  to  be  put  in  a  safe  place,  being 
tak^n  by  the  enemy,  the  father,  to  redeem  them,  was 
obliged  io  rome  to  an  accommodation  with  the  Athe- 
nians, br  which  it  was  stipulated,  that  he  should  de- 
part out  of  Attica  in  five  <V,-?'  time. 
Accordingly,  he  actually  retired  A.  M.  3496. 

within  the  time  limited,  and  «ettled       Ant.  J.  C.  508. 
at  Signeum,  a  town  in  Phrygia.  srat- 
ed  at  the  mouth  of  th^  river  Scamander. 

Pliny  observes,'  that  the  tyrants  were  driven  out  nt 
Athens  the  same  year  the  kings  were  expelled  Rome. 
Extraordinary  honours  were  paid  to  the  memory  of 
Harmodius  and  Aristogiton.  Their  names  were  infi- 
nitely respected  at  Athena  in  all  succeeding:  ages,  and 
almo'st  held  in  equal  reverence  with  those  of  the  gods. 
Statues  were  forthwith  er«  cted  to  them  in  the  market- 
place,  which  was  an  honour  that  had  never  been  con- 
ferred on  any  man  before.  The  very  si?ht  of  these 
statues,  exposed  to  the  view  of  all  th'e  citizens,  kept 
up  their  hatred  and  detesvation  of  tyranny,  and  daily 
renewed  their  sentiments  of  gratitude  to  those  gene- 
rous defenders  of  their  liberty,  who  had  not  scrupled 


i   Ir.  Hippnrrh.  p.  Kf.  •  Arirt.  lib.  r.  de  Rep.  e.  13. 

»  In  Hip.  p.  2*.  22°.  «  Lib  ri.p.  446 

•  ThucyJ.  1.  YI.  p.  446—450. 


«  H«rod.  1.  T.  c.  60—96. 


*  About  40.00W.  sterling. 


•  I'lin.  I.  ixxiv.  c.  4. 
T2 


22=2 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


to  purchase  it  with  their  lives,  and  to  seal  it  with  their 
blood.  Alexander  the  Great,!  who  knew  how  dear 
the  memory  of  these  men  was  to  the  Athenians,  ami 
how  f:ir  tuey  carried  their  zeal  in  this  respect,  thought 
he  did  them  a  sensible  pleasure  in  sending  ba-k  to 
them  the  statue*  of  those  two  great  men,  whi  h  he 
found  in  Persia  after  the  defeat  of  D.irius,  and  whi-h 
X.-rxes  had  formerly  carried  thither  from  Athens. 
Pauia-iias  ascribes  this  action  to  Seleucas  Nicanor, 
one  of  the  successors  of  Alexander;  and  ad  Is.  that  he 
also  sent  back  to  the  Athenians  their  public  library, 
which  Xt;rxes  had  carried  off  with  him  into  Persia. 
Athens.'?  at  the  time  of  her  deliverance  from  tyranny, 
did  not  confine  her  gratitude  solely  to  the  authors  of 
her  liberty,  but  extended  it  even  to  a  woman  who  had 
signalized  her  courage  on  that  occasion.  This  woman 
was  a  courtezan,  named  Lcaena.  who  by  the  charms  of 
her  beauty,  and  skill  in  playing  on  the  harp,  ha  1  par- 
ticularly captivated  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton.  After 
their  death,  the  tyrant,  who  knew  they  had  concealed 
nothing  from  this  woman,  caused  her  to  be  put  to  the 
torture,  in  order  to  make  her  declare  the  names  of  the 
other  conspirators.  But  she  bore  all  the  cruelty  of 
their  torments  with  an  invincible  constancy,  and  ex- 
pired in  the  midst  of  them;  showing;  the  world  that 
her  sex  is  more  courageous,  and  more  capable  of 
keeping  a  secret,  than  some  men  imagine.  The  Athe- 
nians would  not  suffer  the  memory  of  so  heroic  an 
action  ti  be  lost;  and  to  prevent  the  lustre  of  it  from 
being  sullied  bv  the  consideration  of  her  character  as 
a  courtezan,  they  endeavored  to  conceal  that  cir- 
cumstance, by  representing1  her,  in  the  statue  which 
they  erected  to  her  honour,  under  the  figure  of  a 
lioness  without  a  tongue. 

Plutarch,  in  the  life  of  Aristides,*  relates  a  circum- 
stance which  does  great  honour  to  the  Athenians,  and 
shows  to  what  a  pitch  they  carried  their  gratitude  to 
their  deliverer,  and  their  respect  for  his  memory. 
They  had  learned  that  the  grand-daughter  of  Aristo- 
giton lived  at  Lemnos,  in  very  mean  and  poor  circum- 
stances, nobody  being  willing  to  marry  her  upon 
account  of  her  extreme  indigence  and  poverty.  The 
people  of  Athens  aent  for  her,  and,  marrying  her  to 
one  of  the  most  rich  and  considerable  men  of  their 
city,  gave  her  an  estate  in  land  in  the  town  of  Pota- 
mos  for  her  portion. 

Athens  seemed,  in  recovering  her  liberty,  to  have 
also  recovered  her  pristine  courage.  During  the  reigns 
of  her  tyrants,  she  had  acted  wilh  indolence  and  in- 
difference, as  knowing  what  she  did  was  not  for  her- 
self, but  for  them.  But  after  her  deliverance  from 
their  yoke,  the  vigour  and  activity  she  exerted  was 
of  a  quite  different  kind;  because  then  her  labours 
were  he.r  own. 

Athens,  however,  did  not  immediately  enioy  a  per- 
fect tranquillity.  Two  of  her  citizens,  CTisthenes, 
one  of  the  Alcmasonidas,  and  Isagoras,  who  were  men 
of  the  greatest  power  in  the  city,  by  contending  wilh 
each  other  for  superiority,  created  two  considerable 
factions.  The  former,  who  had  gained  the  people  on 
his  side,  made  an  alteration  in  the  form  of  their  esta- 
blishment, and  instead  of  four  tribes,  whereof  they 
consisted  before,  divided  that  body  into  ten  tribf-s,  to 
which  he  gave  the  names  of  the  ten  sons  of  Ion, 
whom  the  Greek  historians  make  the  father  and  first 
founder  of  the  nation.  Isagoras,  seeing  himself  infe- 
rior in  credit  to  his  rival,  had  recourse  to  the  Lacedae- 
nnnians.  Cleomenes,  one  of  the  two  kings  of  Sparta, 
obliged  Clisthenes  to  depart  from  Athens,  with  700 
families  of  his  adherents.  But  they  soon  returned 
with  their  leader,  and  were  restored  to  all  their  es- 
tati'S  and  fortunes. 

The  Lacedaemonians,  stung  with  spite  and  jealousy 
against  Athens,  because  she  took  upon  her  to  act  in- 
depcn'lent  of  their  authority;  and  repenting  also  that 
they  had  delivered  her  from  her  tvrants  upon  the.  credit 
of  an  oracle,  of  which  they  had"  since  discovered  ihe 
imposture,  began  to  think  of  reinstating  Hippias,  one 
of  the  *on«  of  Pisistratus;  nnd  to  that  end  sent  for 
him  from  Siiraeum,  whithsr  he  had  retired.  Thcv  then 


•  Plin.  1.  XXXIT.  e.  8. 

*  INid.  I.  vii.  c  23. 1.  nzir  e  8. 


communicated  their  design  in  an  assembly  of  the  d» 
puties  of  their  allies,  whose  assistance  and  concur 
rence  they  were  anxious  to  secure,  in  order  to  rendei 
their  enterprise  successful. 

The  deputy  of  Corinth  spoke  first  on  this  occasion, 
and  expressed  great  astonishment  that  the  Lacedae- 
monians who  were  themselves  avowed  enemies  of 
tyranny,  and  professed  the  greatest  abhorrence  for  all 
arbitrary  government,  should  desire  to  establish  it 
elsewhere ;  he  exposed  to  their  view  in  the  fullest 
light,  all  the  cruel  and  horrid  effects  of  tyrannical 
government,  which  his  own  country,  Corinth,  had  but 
very  lately  felt  by  woful  experience.  The  rest  of  the 
deputies  applauded  his  discourse,  and  were  of  hi* 
opinion.  Thus  the  enterprise  came  to  nothing;  and 
had  no  other  eflect  than  to  discover  the  base  jealousy 
of  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  to  cover  them  with  shame 
and  confusion. 

Hippias,  defeated  of  his  hopes,  retired  into  Asia  to 
Artaphcrnes,  governor  of  Sardis  for  the  king  of  Per- 
sia, whom  he  endeavoured  by  every  method  to  en- 
gag*  in  a  war  against  Athens:  representing  to  him, 
that  the  taking  of  so  rich  and  powerful  a  city  would 
render  him  master  of  all  Greece.  Artaphernes  here- 
upon required  of  the  Athenian*  that  they  would  rein- 
state Hippias  in  the  government;  to  which  they  mad* 
no  other  an«\v<  r,  than  by  a  downright  and  absolute 
refusal.  This  was  the  original  ground  and  occasion 
of  the  wars  between  the  Persians  ami  the  Greeks, 
which  will  be  the  subject  of  the  following  books. 

ARTICLE  IX. 

ILLUSTRIOUS   MEN  WHO   DISTINGUISHED  THEM- 
SELVES  IN   THE   ARTS   AND    SCIENCES. 

I  begin  with  the  poets,  as  the  most  ancient. 

HOMER,  the  most  celebrated  and  illustrious  of  all 
the  poets,  is  he  of  whom  we  have  the  least  knowledge 
either  with  respect  to  the  country  where  he  was  born 
or  the  time  in  which  he  lived.  Among  the  seven 
cities  of  Greece  that  contended  for  the  honour  of  hav- 
ing given  him  birth,  Smyrna  seems  to  have  the  best 
title  to  that  glorious  distinction. 

Herodotus  tells  us,*  that  Homer 
wrote   400  years  before  his  time,  A.  M.  3160 

that  is,  340 "years  after  the  taking      Ant.  J.  C.  844 
of  Troy;    for  Herodotus  flourished 
740  years  after  that  expedition. 

Some  authors  have  pretended  that  he  was  called 
Homer,  because  he  was  born  blind.  Velleius  Pater- 
culus  rejects  this  story  with  contempt.  If  any  man,s 
says  he,  believes  that  Homer  was  born  blind,  he  mutt 
be  so  himself,  and  even  have  lost  all  his  smses.  In- 
deed, according:  to  the  observation  of  Cicero,8  Homer'* 
works  are  rather  pictures  than  poems,  so  perfectly 
does  he  paint  to  the  life,  and  set  the  images  of  everj 
thing  he  undertakes  to  describe  before  the  eye?  of  tho 
reader;  and  he  seems  to  have  been  intent  upon  intro 
ducing  all  the  most  delightful  and  agreeable  objectl 
that  nature  affords  into  his  writings,  and  making  then! 
in  a  manner  pass  in  review  before  his  readers. 

What  is  most  astonishing  in  this  poet  i«,7  that  be 
ing  the  first,  at  least  of  those  that  are  known,  who 
applied  himself  to  that  kind  of  poetry  which  is  th« 
most  sublime  and  difficult  of  all,  he  should  however 
soar  so  high  and  with  such  rapidity,  as  to  carry  it  at 
once  to  the  utmost  perfection;  wTiich  seldom  or  never 
happens  in  other  arts,  but  by  slow  degrees,  and  after 
a  long  series  of  years. 

The  kind  of  poetry  we  are  speaking  of  is  the  Epk 
Poem,  so  called  from  the  Greek  word  t*'t;  because 
it  is  an  action  related  by  the  poet.  The  subject  of  thi* 

«  Lib.  ii.c.  53. 

>  Quern  si  quis  circum  penitum  putat,  omnibm  mnricM 
orbuR  cut.  Paterc,  I.  i.e.  5. 

•  Tuocul.  CliKi'rtt.  I.  v.  n.  114. 

'  rinrissimiifii  deinde  Homeri  illnsit  inpenium,  tine  e>- 
emplo  maximum  :  qui  magnitudine  operu,  et  fulpire  curmi- 
mim,  «<ilu«  appellari  Poe'ta  mcruit.  In  quo  hoc  maximum  ett, 
quAd  neque  ante  ilium  quern  ille  imimretnr;  neque  port 
ilium,  qui  imiiari  eum  possit,  in  vent  uses'. :  neque  quenquiifl 
alium,  cnjus  operiis  primui  anotor  fuerit.  in  ro  perfectiwi- 
mum,  prcter  Homcrnm  et  Archilochum  reperiemui.  FM, 
Pititrc.  1.  i.  c.  i. 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


mutt  be  great,  instructive,  serious,  containing 
O»ly  one  principal  event,  to  which  all  the  rest  must. 
refer  an'l  be  subordinate;  and  this  principal  action 
must  have  passed  in  a  certain  space  of  tune,  whic!' 
must  not  exceed  a  year  at  most. 

Homer  has  comoosed  two  poems  of  this  kind,  the 
Iliad  and  the  Odyssey;  the  subject  of  the  first  is  the 
anger  of  Achilles,  so  pernicious  to  the  Greeks,  when 
they  besieged  Ilion,  or  Troy;  and  that  of  the  second 
it  the  voyages  and  adventures  of  Ulysses  after  the 
taking  of  that  city. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  no  nation  in  the  world,  how- 
ever learned  nnd  ingenious,  has  ever  produced  any 
poems  comparable  to  his;  and  that  whoever  have 
attempted  any  works  of  that  kind,  have  all  taken 
their  plans  and  ideas  from  Homer,  borrowed  all  their 
rules  from  him,  made  him  their  model,  and  have  only 
iucceeded  in  proportion  to  their  success  in  copying 
him.  The  truth  is,  Homer  was  an  original  genius,  end 
fit  for  others  to  be  formed  upon:  Fans  ingeniorum 
Homcrus.1 

All  the  greatest  men, and  the  most  exalted  geniuses 
that  have  appeared  for  these  two  thousand  and  five  nr 
six  hundred  years  in  Greece,  Italy,  and  elsewhere; 
those  whose  writings  we  are  still  forced  to  admire; 
who  are  still  our  masters,  and  who  teach  us  to  think, 
to  reason,  to  speak,  and  to  write;  all  these,  says  Ma- 
darne  Dacier,2  acknowledge  Homer  to  be  the.  great- 
est of  ports,  and  look  upon  his  poems  as  the  model  on 
which  all  succeeding  poets  should  form  their  taste  and 
judgment.  After  all  this,  can  there  be  any  man  so 
conceited  of  his  own  talents,  be  they  never  so  great, 
as  reasonably  to  presume,  that  his  decisions  should 
prevail  against  such  a  universal  concurrence  of  judg- 
ment in  persons  of  the  most  distinguished  abilties  and 
characters? 

So  many  testimonies,  so  ancient,  so  uniform,  and 
so  universal,  entirely  justify  Alexander  the  Great's 
favourable  judgment  of  the  works  of  Homer,  which  he 
looked  upon  as  the  most  excellent  and  valuable  pro- 
duction of  the  human  mind:  pretiosissimurn  luimani 
animi  opus.3 

Quintilian,*  after  having  made  a  magnificent  enco- 
mium upon  Homer,  gives  us  a  just  idea  of  his  charac- 
ter and  manner  of  writing  in  these  few  words:  Hunc 
nemo  in  magnis  tublimiiate,  in  parvis  proprietate, 
tiiperaveril.  Idem  Inttis  ac  presses,  jucundiis  et 
gravis,  turn  copid  turn  brevilate  mirabilis.  In  great 
things  what  a  sublimity  of  expression;  and  in  little, 
what  a  justness  and  propriety!  Diffusive  and  concise, 
pleasant  and  grave,  equally  admirable  both  for  his 
copiousness  and  his  brevity. 

HESIOD.  The  most  common  opinion  is,  that  he 
was  contemporary  with  Homer.  It  is  said,  that  he 
was  born  at  Cumae,  a  town  in  .£olis,  but  that  be  was 
brought  up  at  Ascra,  a  little  town  in  Bcrotia,  which 
has  since  passed  for  his  native  country.  Thus  Virgil 
calls  him  the  old  man  of  Ascra.5  \V"e  know  little  or 
nothing  of  this  poet,  but  by  the  few  remaining  poems 
which  he  has  left,  all  in  hexameter  verse;  which  are, 
1st,  The  Work*  and  Days;  2dly,  The  Theo^nny,  or 
the  genealogy  of  the  gods;  3dly,  The  Shield  ofHer- 
cvles:  of  which  last  some  doubt  whether  it  was  writ- 
ten by  Hesiod. 

1.  In  the  first  of  these  poems,  entitled,  The  Works 
and  Days,  Hesiod  treats  of  agriculture,  which  re- 
quires, besides  a  great  deal  of  labour,  a  due  observa- 
tion of  times,  seasons,  and  days.  This  poem  ii  full 
of  excellent  sentences  and  maxims  for  the  conduct  of 
life.  He  begins  it  with  a  short,  but  lively  description 
of  twj  sorts  of  disputes;  the  one  fatal  to  mankind,  the 
source  of  quarrels,  discords,  and  wars;  and  the  other 
infinitely  useful  and  beneficial  to  men,  as  it  sharpens 
their  wits,  excites  a  noble  and  generous  emulation 
among  them,  and  prepares  the  war  for  the  invention 
and  improvement  of  arts  and  sciences.  He  then 
makes  an  admirable  descripti  >n  of  the  four  different 
•ges  of  the  world;  the  golden,  the  silver,  the  brmzent 

•  Plin.  I.  xvii.c.  5. 

•  In  Corner's  life,  which  it  prefixed  to  her  translation  of 
the  Iliad. 

•  Plin.  1.  vii.  r  29  duin.  n.  L  ».  cap.  1 

•  Eclog.  vi.  T.  70. 


and  the  iron  age.  The  persons  who  lived  ir;  the  gold 
en  age  aie  those  whom  Jupiter  after  then  death  iurn 
ed  into  so  many  Genii  or  spirits,*  and  then  appointed 
them  as  guardians  over  mankind,  giving  thrm  n  com- 
mission to  go  up  and  down  the  earth,  mvisib'e  to  the 
sight  of  men,  and  to  observe  all  their  good  and  evil 
actions. 

This  poem  was  Virgil's  model  in  composing  hit 
Georgics,  as  he  himself  acknowledges  in  this  verse  ;- 

Aicrsumque  cano  Komana  oer  (ippioa  carmen. t 
And  sing  the  Acrrean  verse  to  Roman  nwainn. 
The  choice  made  by  these  two  illustrious  poets  of 
this  subject  for  the  exercise  of  their  muse,  snows  in 
what  honour  the  ancients  held  agriculture,  and  the 
feeding  of  cattle,  the  two  Innocent  sources  of  the 
wealth  and  plenty  of  a  country.  It  is  much  to  be  de- 
plored, that  in  after-ages  a  taste  so  agreeable  to  na- 
ture, and  so  well  adapted  to  the  preservation  cf  inno- 
cence of  manners,  should  have  gone  to  decay.  Ava- 
rice and  luxury  have  entirely  depressed  it.  A"j»nfrwBt 
alii  subiere  ritiis,  circa</iie  alia  menies  hominum  de- 
tinenhir,  et  avarilitg  tantiim  artes  cohmhir.* 

2.  The  Tlteog-ony  of  Hesiod,  and  tne  poems  of  Ho- 
mer, may  be  looked  upon  as  the  surest  and  most  au- 
thentic archives  and  monuments  of  the  theology  of  the 
ancients,  and  of  the  opinion  they  had  of  their  gods. 
For  we  are  not  to  suppose,  that  these  poets  were  the 
inventors  of  the  fables  which  we  read  in  their  writ- 
ings.    They  only  collected    and    transmitted  to   pos- 
terity, the  traces  of  the  religion  which   they  found 
established,  and  which  prevailed  in  their  time  and 
country. 

3.  The  Shield  of  Hercules,  is  a  separate  fragment 
of  a  poem,  wherein  it  is  pretended  that  Hesiod  cele- 
brated the  most  illustrious  heroines  of  antiquity;  and 
it  bears  that  title;  because  it  contains,  among  other 
things,  a  long  description  of  the  shield  of  Hercules, 
concerning  whom  the  same  poem  relates  a  particular 
adventure. 

The  poetry  of  Hesiod,  in  tho*e  places  that  are  sus- 
ceptible of  ornament,  is  \ery  elegant  and  delightful, 
but  not  so  sublime  and  lofty  as  that  of  Homer.  Quin- 
tilian  9  reckons  him  the  chief  in  the  middle  manner  of 
writing.  Dutur  ei  palma  in  illo  media  diccndi  ge- 
nere. 

ARCHIUJCHUS.  The  poet  Archi- 
lochus  born  in  Paros,  inventor  of  A.  M.  3280. 

the  Iambic,  verse,  lived  in  the  time  Ant.  J.  C.  724, 
of  Candaules,  king  of  Lydia.  He 
has  this  advantage  in  common  with  Homer,  according 
to  VeUeius  Paterculus,  that  he  carried  at  once  that 
kind  of  poetry  which  he  invented  to  a  very  great  per- 
fection. The  feet  which  gave  their  name  to  these 
verses,  and  which  at  first  were  the  only  sort  used,  are 
composed  of  one  short  and  one  long  syllable.  The 
Iambic  verse,  such  as  it  was  invented  by  Archilochus, 
seems  very  proper  fora  vehement  and  energetic  style; 
accordingly  we  see  that  Horace,  speaking  of  this  poet, 
says  that  it  was  his  anger,  or  rather  his  rage,  that 
armed  him  with  his  Iambics,  for  the  exercising  and 
exerting  of  his  vengeance. 

Archiloehum  proprio  rabiei  armarit  lambn.t* 

And  Qiiintilian  say?,11  he  had  an  uncommon  force 
of  expression,  was  full  of  bold  thoughts,  and  of  those 
strokes  that  are  concise,  but  keen  and  piercing;  in  a 
word,  his  style  was  strong  and  nervous.  The  longest 
of  his  poems  are  said  to  be  the  best.'1  The  world 
have  passed  the  same  judgment  upon  the  orations  of 
Demosthenes  and  Cicero ;  the  latter  of  whom  snys 
the  same  of  his  friend  Atticus's  letters. 

The  verscfc  of  Archilochus  were  extremely  biting 
and  licentious  ;"•*  witness  those  he  writ  against  Ly- 


. 

'  Geor.  1.  ii.  r.  178.  •  Plin.  in  Protein.  1.  xi». 

•  Lib.  i.e.  5.  »•  Art  Poet. 

•  i  Sum  ma  in  hoc  TI«  elocntionia,  cum  valir)a»  turn  brsrM 
Yibrantenque  §ententias,  plurimum  sanguini*  atque  ncrvo- 
rum.     Qttin.  I.  x.  c.  1. 

»*  Ut  Arintophnni  Archilochi  iamhun,  air.  epiitola  Ion;ii 
•ima  q  usque  optima  videtur.  die.  Epiit.  xi. ..  16.  ad  Jttlt- 
cum. 

>•  Hor.  Epod.  Od.  vi.  et  Epiit.  zix.  1. » 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


eambet,  his  father-in-law,  which  drove  him  to  despair. 
F'or  this  double  reason,1  his  portiy,  how  excellent 
soever  it  was  reckoned  in  other  respeots,  was  banished 
out  of  Sparta,  as  being  more  likely  to  corrupt  (he 
hearts  «m'd  morals  of  young  people,  than  to  be  useful 
in  cultivating  their  understanding.  We  have  only 
some  very  short  fragments  remaining  of  this  poet. 
Such  a  niceness  in  a  heathen  people,  with  regard  to 
the  quality  of  the  books  which  they  thought  young 
persons  should  be  permitted  to  read,  is  highly  worth 
our  notice,  and  will  rise  up  in  condemnation  against 
many  Christians. 

HIPPONAX.  This  poet  was  of  Ephesus,  and  sig- 
nalized himself  some  years  after  Archilochus,  in  the 
same  kind  of  poetry,  and  with  the  same  force  and  ve- 
hemence. He  was  ugly,  little,  lean,  and  slender.2 
Two  celebrated  sculptors,  who  were  brothers,  Bupalus 
and  Athenis  (some  call  the  latter  Anthermus,)  divert- 
ed themselves  at  his  expense,  and  represented  him  in 
a  ridiculous  form.  It  is  dangerous  to  attack  satiric 
poets.  Hipponax  retorted  their  pleasantry  with  such 
keen  strokes  of  satire,  that  they  hanged  themselves 
out  of  mortification:  others  say  they  only  quitted  the 
city  of  Ephesus,  where  Hipponax  lived.  His  malig- 
nant pen  did  not  spare  even  those  to  whom  he  owed 
his  life.  How  monstrous  was  this!  Horace  joins  Hip- 
ponax with  Archilochus,  and  represents  them  as  two 
poets  equally  dangerous.3  In  the  Anthologia  there 
are  three  or  four  epigrams,*  which  describe  Hipponax 
as  terrible  even  after  his  death.  Thev  admonish  tra- 
vellers to  avoid  his  tomb,  as  a  place  from  whence  a 
dreadful  hail  perpetually  pours,  *i«7-§  -riv  x***?"r;i 
Tiew,  ifc»  iffixToc.  Fuge  grandinantem  tumulwn, 
horrendum. 

It  is  thought  he  invented  the  Scazon  verse,  in  which 
the  Spondee  is  used  instead  of  the  Iambus  in  the  sixth 
foot  of  the  verse  that  bears  that  name. 

STESICHORUS.  He  was  of  Himera,  a  city  in  Sici- 
ly, and  excelled  in  Lyric,  poetry,  as  did  those  other 
poet?,  of  whom  we  are  going  to  speak.  Lyric  poetry 
is  that,  the  verses  of  which,  digested  into  odes  and 
stanzas,  were  sung  to  the  Lyre,  or  to  other  such  like 
instruments.  Stesichorus  flourished  betwixt  the  37th 
and  47th  Olympiads.  Pausanias,5  after  many  other 
fables,  related,  that  Stesichorus  having  been  punished 
with  the  loss  of  sight  for  his  satirical  verses  against 
Helen,  did  not  recover  it  till  he  had  retracted  his  in- 
vectives, by  writing  another  ode  contrary  to  the  first; 
which  latter  kind  of  ode  is  since  raited  Palinodia. 
Quintilian  says,'  that  he  sang  of  wars  and  illustrious 
hero*  s,  and  that  he  supported  upon  the  lyre  all  the 
dignity  and  majesty  of  epic  poetry. 

Al.CMAN.  He  was  of  Lacedjernon.  or  as  some  will 
have  it,  of  Sardis,  in  Lydia.and  lived  much  about  the 
tame  time  as  Stesichorus.  Some  make  him  the  first 
author  of  amorous  verses. 

ALGOUS.  He  was  born  at  Mitylene,  in  Lesbos: 
it  is  from  him  that  the  Alcaic  verse  derived  its  name. 
He  was  a  professed  enemy  to  the  tyrants  of  Lesbos, 
and  particularly  to  Pittacus,  against  whom  he  par- 
ticularly inveighed  in  his  verses.  It  is  said  of  him,7 
that  being  once  in  a  battle,  he  was  seized  with  such 
fear  and  terror,  that  he  threw  down  his  arms  and  ran 


«  I.acedn-monii  libroe  Archilochi  $  civitate  sufi  exportari 
ju.werunt,  quod  porum  parum  verccundam  ac  pndicam  lee- 
tionem  arbitral)antur.  Noluerunt  enim  pa  liliprorum  suo- 
rum  animus  imbui,  ne  plus  moribu*  noecret,  quftm  inpeniis 
prndi'sypt  ItaquR  maximum  poe'tam,  nut  eerie  summo 
proximum.  qni:i  dnmum  sibi  invisurn  obsca^ni.i  mnlcdictis 
lun>r:ivi-rat,  carminum  exilio  mulctarunt.  Vel.  Pat.  1.  vi. 
c.  3 

»  Hipponncti  notabilia  voltii  fccditaK  erat ;  quamobrcm 
iinn^'inem  cj««  Inxr ivia  jncorum  ii  proposuere  ridcntium  cir- 
culis.  Cluiid  Hipponax  indipnatus  nmarituilinom  carminum 
diftrinxit  in  tanlnm,  ut  credalur  aliquibus  ad  laqucum  eoa 
impulisse  ,  quod  faUum  est.  Ptin  1.  xxxvi.  c.  5. 

«  In  malon  a.«perrimu« 
Parata  tollo  cornua  ; 
Qunlis  Lycamhn?  cprctut  infido  eener, 
Aut  nccr  hostic  ftupalo.     Kpod.  vi. 

*  Ambol.  I.  iii.  •  P»us.  in  I.acon.  p. 200. 

«  Sli-svtlinrum.  quam  nit  inffpnio  validus.  materin'  quoque 
o»tpnduni.  mnvima  bella  ct  claris»imiM  cancntcm  ducei,  ct 
enici  rni  minis  onpra  lyra  lustlnentem.  L.  x.  c.  1. 

•  Herod   I.  v  c.  05. 


away.  Horace  has  thought  fit  to  give  us  the  earn* 
account  of  himself.8  Poets  do  not  value  themselves  so 
much  upon  prowess  as  upon  wit.  Quintilian  says,* 
that  the  style  of  Alcasus  was  close,  magnificent,  and 
chaste;  and  to  complete  his  character,  adds,  that  he 
very  much  resembled  Homer. 

S'IMGMDUS.  This  poet  was  a  native  of  Ceos,  an 
island  in  the  jEgean  sea.  He  continued  to  flourish 
at  the  time  of  Xerxes's  expedition.  He  excelled  prin- 
cipally Hi  elegy.10  The  invention  of  local  memory  is 
ascribed  to  him,  of  which  I  have  spoken  elsewhere.11 
At  twenty-four  years  of  age  he  disputed  for,  and  car- 
ried the  prize  of  poetry. 

The  answer  he  gave  a  prince,  who  asked  him  what 
God  was,  is  much  celebrated.12  That  prince  wa« 
Hiero,  king  of  Sjracuse.  The  poet  desired  a  clay  to 
consider  the  question  proposed  to  him.  On  the  mor- 
row he  asked  two  days;  and  whenever  he  was  called 
upon  for  his  answer,  he  still  doubled  the  time.  Th« 
king,  surprised  at  this  behaviour,  demanded  his  rea- 
son for  it. —  It  is,  replied  Simonides.  because  the  more 
1  consider  the  question,  the  more  obscure  it  seems: 
Qtiia  quanta  dintiits  considero,  tanto  mihi  res  vide- 
iur  oljsoirior.  The  answer  was  wise,  if  it  proceeded 
from  the  high  idea  which  he  conceived  of  the  Divine 
Majesty,  which  no  understanding  can  comprehend, 
nor  any  tongue  express.13 

After  having  travelled  through  many  cities  of  Asia,1* 
and  amassed  considerable  wealth  by  celebrating,  in 
his  verses,  the  praises  of  those  who  were  capable  of 
rewarding  him  well,  he  embarked  for  the  island  of 
Ceos,  his  native  country.  The  ship  was  cast  away 
Every  one  endeavoured  to  save  what  they  conic! 
Simonides  did  not  encumber  himself  with  any  thing 
and  when  he  was  asked  the  reason  of  it,  he  replied, — • 
I  carry  all  I  have  about  me.  Mecum,  inqi/i/,  men 
sunl  CMncta.  Several  of  the  company  were  drowned 
being  overwhelmed  by  the  weight  of  the  things  they 
attempted  to  save,  and  those  who  got  to  shore  were 
plundered  by  thieves.  All  that  escaped  went  to  Ola- 
zomenae,  which  was  not  far  from  the  place  where  the 
vessel  was  lost.  One  of  the  citizens  who  loved  learn- 
ing, and  had  read  the  poems  of  Simonides  with  great 
admiration,  was  exceedingly  pleased,  and  thought  it 
an  honour  to  receive  him  into  his  house.  He  suppli- 
ed him  abundantly  with  necessaries,  whilst  the  rest 
were  obliged  to  beg  through  the  city.  The  poet,  rpon 
meeting  them,  did  not  forget  to  observe  how  justly 
he  had  answered  them  in  regard  to  his  effects:  Dixi, 
inqiiit,  mea  mecwn  eise  cuncla;  vos  quod  rnpnistis, 
perit. 

He  was  reproached  with  having  dishonoured  portry 
by  his  avarice,  in  making  his  pen  venal,  and  not  com- 
posing any  verses  till  he  had  agreed  on  the  price  to  be 
paid  for  them.  In  Aristotle,'5  we  find  a  proof  of  this 
which  does  him  no  honour.  A  person  who  h;id  won 
the  prize  in  the  chariot-races,  desired  Simonides  to 
rompo.se  a  song  of  triumph  upon  that  subject.  The 
poet,  not  thinking  the  reward  sufficient,  replied,  that 
he  could  not  treat  it  well.  This  prize  had  been  won  by 
mules,  and  he  pretended  that  animal  did  not  afford  the 
proper  matter  for  praise.  Greater  offer*  were  ninrte 
him,  which  ennobled  the.  mule;  and  the  poem  wa» 
made.  Money  has  long  had  power  to  bestow  nobilitj 
and  beauty: 


•  Tecum  Philippooet  colorem  fiiffam 

Sensi,  relicta  non  *"pne  parmula.     tlor.  Od  ii.  7.  0. 

•  In  eloquendo  breviset  magnificus  el  diligens,  plcrnmr,iM» 
Homero  similis. 

>•  Ped  me  relict!*,  Miixa  prorax,  joris 
CPSB  retracing  munpra  ntnniip.    Uorat. 
Mirntius  lacrymin  Simoni'lnis.     Cntiill. 

it  Method  of  tparhinp  and  studying  the  Belles  LeUres. 

'»  Cic.  de  Nat.  Door.  1.  i.  n.  15. 

>»  CertS  hoc  est  Deun,  quod  et  cum  diritnr.  non  note** 
dici:  cflm  irstimalur.  non  potrst  n-Riimnri;  cum  compara- 
tor, non  potost  cnmparari  ;  cum  dcfinitur,  ipsa  dtfinilion€ 
erefcit.  S.  Jtup .  germ,  de  temp  cix 

Ncbis  hd  intpllectum  pvctus  ansus  turn  est.  Et  idco  r\e 
eum  (IVum)  dignfi  Jvutimamus,  dum  IniMtlmabnVm  dic.i- 
mup.  Eloqnar  qupmndmodum  opntio.  Mnfrmtudinem  D«M 
qiii  »•>  puiat  nonae,  minuit :  qui  non  vnli  minuere,  non  norit 
Mnnt.  Felix.  ««  Phndr.  1.  ir 

»  Rtiet   I.  Hi.  e.  X 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


225 


£t  genns  ct  formatn  regina  pecunia  donat. 
As  this  animal  is  generated  between  a  she-asi  and 
a  hoise,  the  poet,  as  Aristotle  observes,  considered 
them  •<•'  Srst  only  on  the  base  side  of  their  pedigree. 
But  m  nit  v  ma  if  him  take  them  in  the  other  light, 
and  he  styled  them  illustrious  foals  of  rapid  steeds. 

Xaifir'  JrtXX*fcTtf«V  -7u^-XTfl$  ITTTJJV. 

SAPPHO.  She  was  of  the  same  place,  and  lived  at 
the  same  time,  with  Alcasus.  The  Sapphic  verse  took 
its  name  from  her.  She  composed  a  considerable 
number  of  poems,  of  which  there  are  but  two  remain- 
ing :  these  are  sufficient  to  satisfy  us  that  the  praises 
given  her  in  all  ages,  for  the  beauty,  pathetic  softness, 
numbers,  narmony,  and  infinite  graces,  of  her  poetry, 
are  not  without  foundation.  As  a  farther  proof  of  her 
ajerit  she  was  railed  the  Tenth  Muse;  and  the  peo- 
ple of  Mitylene  engraved  her  image  upon  their  money. 
It  were  to  be  wished,  that  the  purity  of  her  manners 
had  been  equal  to  the  beauty  of  her  genius;  and  that 
•he  had  not  dishonoured  her  sex  by  her  vice*  and 
irregularities. 

ANACREON.  This  poet  was  of  Teos,  a  city  of  Io- 
nia. He  lived  in  the  72d  Olympiad.  Anacreon  '  spent 
a  great  part  of  his  time  at  the  court  of  Polycrates,  that 
fortunate  tyrant  of  Samos;  and  not  only  shared  in 
all  hi«  pleasures,  but  was  of  his  council.  Plato  tells 
us,2  that  Hipparchus,  one  of  the  sons  of  Pisistratus, 
lent  a  vessel  of  fifty  oars  to  Anacreon.  and  wrote  him 
a  most  obliging  letter,  entreating  him  to  come  to 
Athens,  where  his  excellent  works  would  be  esteem- 
ed and  relished  as  they  deserved.  It  is  said,  the  only 
itucly  of  this  poet  was  joy  and  pleasure:  and  those 
remains  we  have  of  his  poetry  sufficiently  confirm  it. 
We  see  plainly  in  all  his  verses,  that  his  hand  writes 
what  his  heart  feels  and  dictates.  It  is  impossible  to 
express  the  elegance  and  delicacy  of  his  poems: 
nothing  could  be  more  estimable,  had  their  object 
been  more  noble. 

THESPIS.  He  was  the  first  inventor  of  Tragedy. 
I  defer  speaking  of  him,  till  I  come  to  give  »ome  ac- 
count of  the  tragic  poets. 

Of  the  Seven  Wise  Men  of  Greece. 

These  men  are  too  famous  in  antiquity  to  be 
omitted  in  this  present  history.  Their  lives  are  writ- 
ten by  DiogPnes  Laertius. 

THAF.KS,  the  Milesian.  If  Cicero8  is  to  be  be- 
lieved, Thales  was  the  most  illustrious  of  the  seven 
wise  men.  It  was  he  that  laid  the  first  foundations  of 
philosophy  in  Greece,  and  gave  rise  to  the  sect  called 
the  Ionic  sect;  because  he,  the  founder  of  it,  was  of 
Ionia. 

He  held  water  to  be  the  first  principle  of  all  things :< 
and  that  God  was  that  intelligent  being,  by  whom  all 
thmgl  were  formed  from  water.  The  first  of  these 
opinions  ho  had  borrowed  from  the  Egyptians,  who, 
•eeing  the  Nile  to  be  the  cause  of  the  fertility  of  all 
then-  land*,  might  ea«ily  imagine  from  thence,  that 
watfr  was  the  principle  of  all  things. 

He  was  the  first  of  the  Greeks  that  studied  astrono- 
my. He  had  exactly  foretold  the  time  of  the  eclipse 
of  the  sun  that  happened  in  the  reign  of  Astyages, 
king  of  Media,  of  which  mention  has  been  made  al- 
•>vady. 

He  was  al«o  the  first  that  fixed  the  term  and  dura- 
tion of  the  solar  year  among  the  Grecians.  By  com- 
paring the  bigness  of  the  sun's  body  with  that  of  the 
moon,  he  thought  he  had  discovered,  that  the  body 
of  the  moon  was  in  solidity  but  the  720th  part  of  the 
sun's  body,  and  consequently,  that  the  solid  body  of 
the  sun  wa-i  above  700  times  biarsrer  than  the  solid 
body  of  the  moon.  This  computation  is  very  far  from 
the  truth;  as  the  sun's  solidity  exceeds  not  only  700 
times,  but  many  millions  of  times,  the  moon's  magni- 
tude or  solidity.  But  we  know  that  in  all  these  mat- 
ters and  particularly  in  that  of  which  we  are  now 
•peaking,  the  first  observations  and  discoveries  were 
rery  imperfect. 


When  Thales  travel'.ed  into  Egypt,1  he  discovered 
an  easy  and  certain  method  lor  taking  the  exact 
height  of  the  pyramids,  by  observing  the  time  when 
the  shadow  of  our  body  is  equal  in  length  to  the 
height  of  the  body  itself. 

To  show  that  philosophers  were  not  so  destitute,' 
as  some  people  imagined,  of  that  sort  of  talent?  and 
capacity  which  is  proper  for  business;  and  that  they 
would  be  as  successful  as  others  in  growing  lich,  if 
they  thought  fit  to  apply  themselves  to  that  pursuit, 
he  bought  the  fruit  of  all  the  olive-trees  in  the  territory 
of  Miletus  before  they  were  in  blossom.  The  pro- 
found knowledge  he  had  of  nature  had  probably  ena- 
bled him  to  foresee  that  the  year  would  be  extremely 
fertile.  It  proved  so  in  fact;  and  he  made  a  consid- 
erable profit  by  his  bargain. 

He  used  to  thank  the  gods  for  three  things:  that 
he  was  born  a  reasonable  creature,  and  not  a  beast; 
a  man,  and  not  a  woman;  a  Greek,  and  not  a  Barba- 
rian. Upon  his  mother's  pressing  him  to  marry  when 
he  was  young,  he  told  her,  it  was  then  too  soon;  and 
after  several  years  were  elapsed,  he  told  her  it  was 
then  too  late. 

As  he  was  one  day  walking,  and  very  attentively 
contemplating  the  stars,  he  chanced  to  fall  into  a 
ditch. — Ha!  says  a  good  old  woman  that  was  by,  how 
will  yon  perceive  what  passes  in  the  heavens,  and  what 
is  so  infinitely  above  )'our  head,  if  you  cannot  see 
what  is  just  at  your  feet,  and  before  your  nose? 

He  was  born  the  first  year  of  the 
35th,  and  died  the  first  year  of  the  A.  M.  3457. 

58th,  Olympiad;  consequently,  he      Ant.  J.  C.  547. 
lived  to  be  above  ninety  years  of 
age. 

Soi.x5N.  His  life  has  been  already  related  at  length. 

CHII.O.  He  was  a  Lacedaemonian:  very  little  is 
related  of  him.  JE.»on  asking  him  one  day,  how  Ju- 
piter employed  himself?  In  humbling  thote,  says  he, 
that  exalt  themselves,  and  exalting  those  who  altatt 
themselves. 

He  died  of  joy  at  Pisa,  upon  seeing  h'u  son  win 
the  prize  at  boxing,  in  the  Olympic  games.  He  said 
when  he  was  dying,  that  he  was  not  conscious  to 
himself  of  having  committed  any  fault  during  the 
whole  course  of  his  life  (an  opinion  well  becoming 
the  pride  and  blindness  of  a  heathen  philosopher;) 
unless  it  was  once,  when  he  made  use  of  a  little  dis- 
simulation and  evasion,  in  giving  judgment  in  favour 
of  a  friend  :  in  which  action  he  did  not  know,  whether 
he  had  done  well  or  ill.  He  died  about  the  5'2d 
Olympiad. 

PlTTACUS.  He  was  of  Mitylene,  a  city  of  Lrsbos. 
Joining  with  the  brothers  of  Alcaeus,  the  famous  lyric 
poet,  and  with  Alcaeus  himself,  who  was  at  the  head 
of  the  exiled  party,  he  drove  the  tyrant  who  had 
usurped  the  government  out  of  that  island. 

The  inhabitants  of  Mitylene  being  at  war  with  the 
Athenians,  gave  Pittacus  the  command  of  the  army. 
To  spare  the  blood  of  his  fellow  citizens,  he  offered  to 
fight  Phrvnon.the  enemy's  general,  in  single  combat. 
The  challenge  was  accepted.  Pittarus  was  victori- 
ous, and  killed  his  adversary.  The  Mitylenians,  out 
of  gratitude,  with  unanimous  consent,  conferred  the 
sovereignty  of  the  city  upon  him;  which  he  accepted, 
and  behaved  himself  with  so  much  moderation  and 
wisdom,  that  he  was  always  respected  and  be)o**c« 
by  his  subjects. 

In  the  mean  time  Alcaens.who  was  a  declared  ene 
my  to  all  tyrants,  did  not  spare  Pittacus  in  his  versei 
notwithstanding  the  mildness  of  his  government  ano. 
temper,  but  inveighed  severely  against  him.  Th« 
poet  fell  afterwards  into  Pittacus's  hands,  who  was  so 
far  from  taking  revenge,  that  he  gave  him  his  liberty, 
and  showed  by  that  act  of  clemency  and  generosity, 
that  he  was  only  a  tyrant  in  name. 

After  having  governed  ten  years  with  great  equity 
and  wisdom,  he  voluntarily  resigned  his  author ty, 
and  retired.  He  used  to  sayj  that  the  proof  cf  • 


»  Herod.  I.  iii  c.  121.  »  In  Hippar.  p.  22?,  229. 

*  Princeps  Tlialcc,  ur.ui  8  septem  cui  Bex  rcliquoi  eonces- 
N*e  primas  ferunt.     Lib.  iv.  Jlead.  Quail,  n.  118. 

•  Lib.  i.  de  Nat.  Deor.  n.  35. 
Vol.  I.~» 


•  Plin.  lib.  xxxYi.  rap.  19. 

•  Cie.  lib.  i.  de  Divin.  n.  111. 

'  Ei  TOV;  uirvxeovc  i  •>(%.*>*   r*t*T*ivmnii  ^ifiiirl*.  04* 
•VT&»,  i\\»  vrif  «CT«;.     Plat,  in  COOT.  icpt.  tap  p.  1% 


226 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


good  government  was  to  engage  the  subjects  not  to 
De  afraid  of  thair  prince,  but  kc  be  afraid  lor  him.  It 
was  a  maxim  with  him,  that  no  man  should  ever  give 
hiiiiiill' tue  liberty  of  speaking  ill  of  a  friend,  or  even 
of  an  enemy.  He  died  in  the  52d  Olympiad. 

BIAS.  \Ve  know  but  very  little  of  Bias.  He 
obliged  Alyattes,  king  of  Lydia,  by  a  stratagem,  to 
raise  the  siege  of  Priene,  where  he  was  born.  The 
citv  was  hard  pressed  by  famine;  upon  which  he 
caused  two  mules  to  be  fattened,  and  contrived  a  way 
to  have  them  pass  into  the  enemy's  ramp.  The  good 
condition  they  were  in  astonished  the  king,  who  there- 
cpon  sent  deputies  into  the  city,  upon  pretence  of 
ottering  terms  of  peace,  but  really  to  observe  the  state 
of  the  town  and  people.  Bias,  guessing  their  errand, 
had  ordered  the  granaries  to  be  tilled  with  great  heaps 
of  sand,  and  those  heaps  to  be  covered  with  corn. 
When  the  deputies  returned,  and  made  report  to  the 
king  of  the  great  plenty  of  provisions  they  had  seen 
in  the  city,  he  hesitated  no  longer,  but  concluded  a 
treaty,  and  raised  the  liege.  One  ofthe'maxims  Bia? 
particularly  taught  and  recommended,  was,  to  do  all 
the  good  we  can,  and  ascribe  all  the  glory  of  it  to  the 
gods.1 

CLEOBULOS.  We  know  as  little  of  him  as  of  the 
former.  He  was  born  at  Lindos,  a  town  in  the  isle 
of  Rhodes;  or,  as  some  will  have  it,  in  Caria.  He 
invited  Solon  to  come  and  live  with  him,  when  Pisis- 
tratus  had  usurped  the  sovereignty  of  Athens. 

PERIANDER.  He  is  numbered  among  the  wise 
men,  though  he  was  a  tyrant  of  Corinth.  When  he 
had  first  made  himself  master  of  that  city,  he  wrote  to 
Thrasvbulus,  tyrant  of  Miletus,  to  know  what  mea- 
sures he  should  take  with  his  new-acquired  subject!. 
The  latter,  without  any  other  answer,  led  the  messen- 
ger into  a  field  of  wheat,  where  in  walking  along  he 
beat  down  with  his  cane  all  the  ears  of  corn  that  were 
higher  than  the  rest.  Periander  perfectly  well  under- 
stood the  meaning  of  this  enigmatical  answer,  which 
was  a  tacit  intimation  to  him,  that,  in  order  to  secure 
his  own  life,  he  should  cut  otf  the  most  powerful  of 
the  Corinthian  citizens.  •  But,  if  we  may  believe  Plu- 
tarch,* Periander  did  not  relish  so  cruel  advice. 

He  wrote  circular  letters  to  all  the  wise  men,*  in- 
viting them  to  pass  some  time  with  him  at  Corinth, 
as  they  had  done  the  year  before  at  Sardis  with  Croe- 
•us.  Princes  in  those  days  thought  themselves  much 
honoured,  when  they  could  have  such  guests  in  their 
houses.  Plutarch  describes  an  entertainment,4  which 
Periander  gave  these  illustrious  guests:  and  observes, 
at  the  same  time,  that  the  decent  simplicity  of  it, 
adapted  to  the  taste  and  character  of  the  persons 
entertained,  did  him  much  more  honour  than  the 
greatest  magnificence  could  have  done.  The  subject 
of  their  discourse  at  table  was  sometimes  prave  and 
serious,  and  sometimes  pleasant  and  gay.  One  of  the 
company  proposed  this  question;  Which  is  the  most 
perfect  popular  government? — That,  answered  Solon, 
where  an  injury  done  to  any  private  citizen  is  such  to 
the  whole  body: — That,  savs  Bias,  where  the  law  has 
no  superior:— That,  says  Thales  where  the  inhabit- 
ants are  neither  too  rich  nor  too  poor: — That,  says 
Anacharsis,  where  virtue  is  honoured  and  vice  detest- 
ed:— says  Pittacus,  Where  dignities  are  always  con- 
ferred upon  the  virtuous,  and  never  upon  then  irked: 
— says  Cleobulus,  Where  the  citizens  fear  blame  more 
than  punishment: — says  Chilo,  Where  the  laws  are 
more  regarded  and  have  more  authority,  than  the  ora- 
tors.— From  all  these  opinions.  Periander  concluded, 
that  the  most  perfect  popular  government  would  be 
that  which  came  nearest  to  aristocracy,  where  the 
sovereign  authority  is  lodged  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
men  of  honour  and"^  virtue. 

Whilst  these  wise  men  were  assembled  together  at 
Periarider's  court,  a  courier  arrived  from  Amasis, 
king  of  Egypt,  with  a  letter  for  Bias,  with  whom  that 
king  kept  a  close  correspondence.  The  purport  of 
this  letter  was  to  consult  him  how  he  should  answer 
•  proposal  made  him  by  the  king  of  Ethiopia,  of  his 


t  'On  xv  i>»5tv  T( 
i  In  OMIT.  wpt  tap 
«  In  Cun«  tept  tap 


,  lie  tit'jt  mr*ni*wi. 

•  Diog.  Laerf-  in  Tit.  Pcriand. 


drinking  up  the  sea;  in  which  case  the  Ethiopian  ting 
promised  to  resign  to  him  a  certain  number  ol  citiet 
in  his  dominions:  but  if  he  did  not  do  it,  then  he. 
Aniasis,  was  to  give  up  the  same  number  of  his  cities 
to  the  king  of  Ethiopia.  It  was  usual  in  those  days  for 
princes  to  propound  such  enigmatical  ami  puzzling 
questions  to  one  another.  Bias  answered  him  direct- 
lv,  and  advised  him  to  accept  the  ofler  on  the  condi- 
tion that  the  king  of  Ethiopia  would  stop  all  the  rivers 
that  6ow  into  the  sea:  for  the  business  was  only  to 
drink  up  the  sea,  and  not  the  rivers.  \N  e  find  an 
answer  to  the  same  effect  ascribed  to  jEsop. 

I  must  not  here  forget  to  take  notice,  that  these  wis« 
men,  of  whom  I  have  been  speaking,  were  all  lovers 
of  poetry,  and  composed  verses  themselves,  some  of 
them  a  considerable  number,  upon  subjects  ol  moral- 
ity and  policy,  which  are  certainly  topics  well  worthy 
of  the  muses. — Solon,8  however,  is  reproacht-d  for  hav- 
ing written  some  licentious  verses;  which  may  teach 
us  what  judgment  we  ought  to  form  of  these  pre- 
tended wise  men  of  the  pagan  world. 

Instead  of  some  of  these  seven  wise  men,  which  I 
have  mentioned,  some  people  have  substituted  others; 
as  Anacharsis,  for  example,  Myso,  Epimenides,  P he- 
recycles.  The  first  of  these  is  the  most  known  in  his- 
tory. 

A>'ACHARSIS.  Long  before  Solon's  time  the  No- 
mad Scythians,  were  in  great  reputation  for  their  sim- 
plicity, "frugality,  temperance,  and  justice.  Homer 
calls  "them  a  ve'ry  just  nation.'  Anacharsis  was  one 
of  these  Scythian*,  and  of  the  royal  family.  A  certain 
Athenian,  once  having  reproached  him  with  his  coun- 
try:—My  country,  you  think,  replied  Anacharsis,  if 
no  great  honour  to  me:  and  you,  Sir,  are  no  great 
honour  to  vour  country. — His  good  sense,  profound 
knowledge,"  and  great  experience,  made  him  pass  foi 
one.  of  the  seven  wise  men.  He  wrote  a  treatise  in 
verse  upon  the  art  military,  and  composed  anothei 
tract  on  the  laws  of  Scythia. 

He  used  to  make  visits  to  Solon.  It  was  in  con 
versation  with  him  that  he  compared  laws  to  cobwebs, 
which  entangle  only  little  fiies,  whilst  wasps  and  hor- 
nets break  through  them. 

Being  inured  to  the  au«tere  and  poor  life  of  the 
Scythians,  he  set  little  value  upon  riches.  Croesus 
invited  him  to  come  and  see  him,  and  without  doubt 
hinted  to  him,  that  he  was  able  to  mend  his  fortune. 
"  I  have  no  occasion  for  your  gold,"  said  the  Scythian 
in  his  answer:  "  I  came  into  Greece  only  to  enrich 
my  mind,  and  improve  my  understanding;  I  shall  be 
very  well  satisfied,  if  I  return  into  my  own  country, 
not  with  an  addition  to  my  wealth,  hut  with  an  in- 
crease of  knowledge  and  virtue."  However,  Ana- 
charsis accepted  the  invitation,  and  went  to  that 
prince's  court. 

We  have  already  observed  that  JEtnp  was  much 
surprised  and  dissatisfied  with  the  coH  and  indifferent 
manner  in  which  Solon  viewed  the  nmgrnificenre  of 
the  palace,  and  the  vast  treasures  of  Crresiis;"  be- 
cause it  was  the  master,  and  not  the  house,  that  the 
philosopher  wished  to  have  reason  to  admire.  "  Cer- 
tainly," says  Anacharsis  to  j£sop  on  that  occasion, 
"you  have  forgotten  your  own  fable  of  the  fox  and 
panther.  The  latter,  as  her  highest  merit,  could  only 
show  her  fine  skin,  beautifully  marked  and  spotted 
with  different  colours:  the  fox's  skin,  on  the  contrary 
was  very  plain,  but  contained  within  it  a  treasure  of 
subtiliie's  and  stratagems  of  infinite  value.  TMs  very 
image,"  continued  the  Scythian,  "  shows  me  yonr 
own  character.  You  are  affected  with  a  splendid  ont 
side  whilst  yon  pay  little  or  no  regard  to  what  is  truly 
the  man.  that  is,  to  what  which  is  in  him,  an  1  con*e- 
quently  properly  his." 

^ESOP.  I  join"  JF.*op  with  the  wise  men  of  Greece: 
not  only  because  he  was  often  amongst  them,8  but 


•  Plat,  in  Solon,  p.  79.  •  Ilian.  iib.  N.  v.  6 

•  Plut.  in  Conv.  »ept.  »ap.  p.  155. 

•  iE«opu»  ille  >  Phrycia  Tahuluior.  hnud  immoritn  «aplen» 
exiMimatuKpst  :  rum  IJUIP  utitin  mnnitu  soaauqne  erant,  non 
•evere.  non  impcriot*  prsrrrpit  et  censutt,  ut  philnnophis  mot 
e«,  neH   festive*  dplectabilrwioe  npox>;os  commcntut,   n-« 
nlubriter  ac  protpicienter  animadvc'ias,  io  mcntei  i.,imo* 


HISTORY  OF  GREECE. 


22  / 


because  he  taught  true  wisdom  with  far  more  art  than 
they  do  who  teach  it  by  rules  and  definitions. 

JKsop  was  by  birth  a  Phrygian.  He  had  abundance 
of  wit;  but  was  terribly  deformed :  he  was  short, 
hunc'--backed,  and  horribly  ugly  in  face,  having  scarce 
the  figure  of  a  man;  and  for  a  very  considerable  time 
almost  without  the  use  of  speech.  As  to  his  condition 
r-(  life,  he  was  a  slave;  and  the  merchant  who  had 
bought  him,  found  it  very  difficult  to  get  him  off  his 
hand*,  so  extremely  were  people  shocked  at  his  un- 
sightly figure  and  deformity. 

The  first  master  he  had  sent  him  to  labour  in  the 
del:!;  whether  it  was  that  he  thought  him  incapable 
ot  am  better  employment,  or  only  to  remove  so  disa- 
greeable an  object  out  of  his  sight. 

He  was  afterwards  sold  to  a  philosopher  named 
Xanthus  I  should  never  have  done,  should  I  relate 
all  the  strokes  of  wit,  the  sprightly  repartees,  and  the 
arch  and  humorous  circumstances  of  his  words  and 
behaviour.  One  da}'  his  master  designing  to  treat 
some  of  his  friends,  ordered  jEsopto  provide  the  best 
of  every  thing  he  could  find  in  the  market.  JEsop 
bought  nothing  but  tongues,  which  he  desired  the 
cook  to  serve  up  with  different  sauces.  When  dinner 
came,  the  first  and  second  courses,  the  side  dishes  and 
the  removes  were  tongues.  Did  I  not  order  you,  says 
Xanthus  in  a  violent  passion,  to  buy  the  best  victuals 
the  market  afforded?  And  have  I  not  obeyed  jour 
orders?  says  jEsop.  Is  there  any  thing  better  'than 
a  tongue?  Is  not  the  tongue  the  bond  of  civil  soci- 
ety, the  key  of  sciences,  and  the  organ  of  truth  and 
r'.ason?  By  means  of  the  tongue  cities  are  built,  and 
governments  established  and  administered:  with  that 
men  instruct,  persuade,  and  preside  in  assemblies:  it 
is  the  instrument  by  which  we  acquit  ourselves  of  the 
chief  of  all  our  duties,  the  praising  and  adoring  the 
gods.  Well  then,  replied  Xanthus,  thinking  to  catch 
him,  go  to  market  again  to  morrow,  and  buy  me  the 
worst  of  every  thing:  the  same  company  will  dine 
with  me,  and  I  have  a  mind  to  diversify  my  entertain- 
ment. yEsop  the  next  day  provided  nothing  but  the 
very  same  dishes:  telling  his  master  that  the  tongue 
*-as  the  worst  thing  in  the  world.  It  is,  ssvs  he,  the 
instrument  of  all  strife  and  contention,  the  fomenter 
of  law-suit?,  and  the  source  of  divisions  and  wars;  it 
is  the  organ  of  error,  of  lies,  calumny,  and  blasphemy. 

JEsntt  found  it  very  difficult  to  obtain  his  liberty. 
One  of  the  very  first  uses  he  made  of  it  was  to  go  to 
Croesus,  who,  on  account  of  his  great  reputation  and 
fame,  had  been  Ions:  desirous  to  see  him.  The 
strange  deformity  of  jEsop's  person  shocked  the  king 
at  first,  and  much  abated  the  good  opinion  he  had 
conceived  of  him.  But  the  beauty  of  his  mind  soon 
shone  forth  through  the  coarse  veil  that  covered  it; 
and  Cr.esus  found,  as  ./Esop  said  on  another  occasion, 
that  wt  ought  not  to  consider  the  form  of  the  vessel, 
b«it  the  quality  of  the  liquor  it  contains. 

He  made  several  voyages  into  Greece,1  either  for 
pleasure,  or  upon  the  affairs  of  Croesus.  Being  at 
Athens  a  short  time  after  Pisistratus  had  usurped  the 
sovereignty  and  abolished  the  popular  government, 
and  observing  the  Athenians  bore  this  new  yoke  with 
great  impatience,  he  repeated  to  them  the  fable  of  the 
frogs  who  demanded  a  king  from  Jupiter. 

It  is  doubted  whether  the  fables  of  ^sop,  such  as 
we  have  them,  are  all  his,  at  least  in  regard  to  the 
expression.  Great  part  of  them  are  ascribed  to  Pla- 
nude«.  who  wrote  his  life,  and  lived  in  the  fourteenth 
century. 

f.v)p  is  reckoned  the  author  and  inventor  of  this 
simple  and  natural  manner  of  conveying  instruction 
by  tales  and  fables;  in  which  light  Phaedrus  speaks 
of  him: 

j£cppui  nurtor  quom  materUm  reperit, 
Hanc  ogo  polivi  veriibus  sonariii. 

But  the  glnry  of  this  invention  is  really  due  to  the 
poet  Hesiod:1  an  invention  which  does  not  seem  to 


•we  hnmtnnm.  cum  audiendi  quadam  illecebra  iuduit.  Ant. 
Hell.  .V«.  Ml.  lib.  ii.  cap.  29. 

i   Pliirdr   I.  i.  fah.  2. 

«  Tll.T  ijuwue  fahulir,  que,  etinm«i  orlgintm  non  «h  jfVipo 
•eceferunt  fntm  videtur  earum  primus  auctor  Heiiodui,) 


be  of  any  great  importance,  or  extiaorditiary  merit, 
and  yet  has  been  much  esteemed  and  made  use  of  by 
the  greatest  philosophers  and  ablest  politicians.  Plato 
tells  us,  that  Socrates,1  a  little  before  he  died,  turned 
some  of  ^Esop's  fables  into  verse;  and  1'lato  himself 
earnestly  recommends  it  to  nurses  to  instruct  their 
children  in  it  betimes,4  in  order  to  form  their  manners, 
and  to  inspire  them  early  with  the  love  of  wisdom. 

Fables  could  never  have  been  so  universally  adopted 
by  all  nations,  as  we  see  they  have,  if  there  was  not 
a  vast  fund  of  useful  truths  contained  in  them,  and 
agreeably  concealed  under  that  plain  and  negligent 
disguise,  in  which  their  peculiar  character  consist! 
The  Creator  certainly  designing  to  instruct  mankind, 
by  the  very  prospect  of  nature,  has  endowed  the 
brute  part  of  it  with  various  instincts,  inclinations, 
and  properties,  to  serve  as  so  many  pictures  in  minia- 
ture to  man,  of  the  several  duties  incumbent  upon 
him;  and  to  point  out  to  him  the  good  or  evil  quali- 
ties he  ought  to  acquire  or  avoid.  Thus  has  he  given 
us,  for  instance,  a  lively  image  of  meekness  and  inno- 
cence in  the  lamb;  of  fidelity  and  friendship  in  the 
dog;  and  on  the  contrary,  of  violence,  rapaciousness, 
and  cruelty,  in  the  wolf,  the  lion,  and  the  tiger;  and 
so  of  the  other  species  of  animals;  and  all  tins  he  hat 
designed,  not  only  as  instruction,  but  as  a  secret  re 
proof  to  man  if  he  should  be  mditlerint  about  those 
qualities  in  himself,  which  he  cannot  forbear  esteem- 
ingor  detesting,  even  in  the  brutes  themselves 

This  is  a  dumb  language  which  all  nations  under- 
stand ;  it  is  a  sentiment  engraven  in  nature,  which 
every  man  carries  about  with  him.  jEsop  was  the 
first  of  all  the  profane  writers  who  laid  hold  of  and 
unfolded  it,  made  happy  application  of  it,  and  attract- 
ed men's  attention  to  this  sort  of  simple  and  natural 
instruction,  which  is  within  the  reach  of  all  capacities, 
and  equally  adapted  to  persons  of  all  ages  and  condi- 
tions. He  was  the  first  th  t,  in  order  to  give  body 
and  substance  to  virtues,  vices,  duties,  and  maxims  of 
society,  did  by  an  ingenious  artifice  and  innocent  fic- 
tion, invent  the  method  of  clothing  them  with  graceful 
and  familiar  images  borrowed  from  nature,  by  giving 
language  to  brute  beasts,  and  ascribing  sense  and 
reason  to  plants  and  trees,  and  all  sorts  of  inanimate 
creatures. 

The  fables  of  JEsop  are  void  of  a'.l  ornament;  but 
abound  with  good  sense,  and  are  adapted  to  the  capa- 
city of  children,  for  whom  they  are  more  particularly 
composed.  Those  of  Phsedrus  are  in  a  style  some- 
what more  elevated  and  diffused,  but  at  the  same  time 
have  a  simplicity  and  elegance,  that  very  much  irstm- 
ble  the  Attic  spirit  and  style  in  the  plain  way  of  writ- 
ing, which  was  the  finest  and  most  delicate  kind  of 
composition  in  use  among  the  Grecians.  Monsieur 
de  la  Fontaine,  who  was  very  sensible  that  the  French 
tongue  is  not  susceptible  of  the  same  elegant  simpli- 
city, has  enlivened  his  fables  with  a  sprightly  and  ori- 
ginal turn  of  thought  and  expression,  peculiar  to  him- 
self, which  no  other  person  has  yet  been  able  to  imi- 
tate. 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive,*  why  Seneca  asserts  as  a 
fact,  that  the  Romans  in  his  time  had  never  tried  their 
pens  in  this  kind  of  composition.  Were  the  fables 
of  Hisedrus  unknown  to  him?  , 

Plutarch  relptes  the  manner  of  ^sop's  death.1  He 
went  to  Delphi,  with  a  great  quantity  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver, to  offer  in  the  name  of  Croesus,  a  great  sacrifice 
to  Apollo,  and  to  give  to  each  inhabitant  a  eonsider- 
ble  sum.7  A  quarrel,  which  arose  between  him  and 
the  people  of  Delphi,  occasioned  him  after  the  sacri- 
fice, to  send  back  the  money  to  Croesus,  and  to  inform 
him,  that  those  for  whom  it  was  intended  had  rendered 
themselves  unworthy  of  his  bounty.  The  inhabitant* 


nomine  ttmcn  idnpi  B.I,LJM£  reH>rantur,  ducerc  animoj 
olfnt,  prtpripui  ruiiirnrnm  et  imperitorum  ;  qui  et  simiili- 
iu«  quip  firm  .«unl  nudiunt.  et  ciri'i  voluptate  tucile  iis  qui- 

bun  di'lcciantur  eonfcniiunt.     Qv'n'iV  I.  v.  c.  12 

•  Plat,  in  Plied,  p.  60.  «  Lib.  ii  do  R<-p.  p  378. 

»  N«m  audfo  to  usque  eA  produrerf,  ul  (WheHa*  qnoquc  «t 
SOIK-O-I  liignii  i*teiitatvr.i  .R.r-ninM  infcviit  OJULS,  «<>liia  lihi 
venustaie  conn-rus .     Senee.  dc  Centtl.  ail  fotyt.  c.  27. 

•  De  «era  Numinie  vindiom.  p  556,  557. 

i  Four  mine,  equal  to  240  livref,  cr  about  SI.  1<W, 


228 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


of  Delphi  caused  him  to  be  condemned  as  guilty  of 
tacrileg-e,  and  to  be  thrown  down  from  the  top  of  a 
rock.  The  god,  offended  by  this  action,  punished 
them  with  a  plague  and  famine;  so  that  to  put  an  end 
to  these  evils,  they  caused  it  to  be  signified  in  all  the 
assemblies  of  Greece,  that  if  any  one  for  the  honour 
of  jEsop,  would  come  and  claim  vengeance  for  his 
death,  they  would  give  him  satisfaction.  At  the  third 
generation,1  a  man  from  Samos  presented  himself, 
who  had  no  other  relation  to  jEsop  than  being  de- 
scended from  the  persons  who  had  bought  that  fabu- 
list. The  Delphians  made  this  man  satisfaction,  and 

i  Herod,  lib.  ii.  cap.  134. 


thereby  delivered  themselves  from  the  pestilence  and 
famine  that  distressed  them. 

The  Athenians,  those  excellent  jurlg-es  of  true  glory, 
erected  a  noMe  statue  to  this  learned  and  ingenious 
slave;  to  let  all  the  people  knaw,  says  Phsedru*,8  that 
the  ways  of  honour  were  open  indifferently  to  all  man 
kind,  and  that  it  was  not  to  birth,  but  merit,  they  paid 
so  honourable  a  distinction. 

JEncipo  ingcntem  statuam  posuero  Attici, 
Servumque  collorarum  a'tcrna  in  basi, 
Patnre  honoris  scirent  ut  ruiicii  viam, 
Nee  gencri  triliui,  sed  virtuti  gloriam. 


*  Herod,  lib.  ii. 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


BOOK  VI. 


Thi*  Book  contains  the  history  of  the  Persians  and  Grecians, 
in  the  rei»iis  of  Duriux  I.  and  Xerxes  I.,  durin::  the  space 
•f  forty-fii'ht  yearn,  from  the  year  of  the  world  34H3,  to 
lie  year  353 J.* 

CHAPTER  I. 

THtt  HISTORY  OF  DARIUS,  INTERMIXED  WITH  THAT 
OF  THE  GREEKS. 

BEFORE  Darin*  came  to  be  king,'  he  was  called 
Ochus.  At  his  succession  he  took  the  name  of  Da- 
rius, which,  according  to  Herodotus,  in  the  Persian 
language  signifies  an  Avenger,  or  a  man  that  defeats 
the  schemes  of  another;  probably  because  he  had 
punished  and  put  an  end  to  the  insolence  of  the  Ma- 
giau  impostor.  He  reigned  thirty-six  years. 

SECTION  I. — DARIUS'S  MARRIAGES.  THE  IMPO- 
SITION OF  TRIHUTES.  THE  INSOLENCE  AND  PUN- 
ISHMENT OF  INTAPHERNES.  THE  DEATH  OF  ORE- 
TES.  THE  STORY  OF  DEMOCEDES  A  PHYSICIAN. 
THE  JEWS  PERMITTED  TO  CARRY  ON  THE  BUILD- 
ING OF  THEIR  TEMPLE.  THE  GENEROSITY  OF 
8YLOSON  REWARDED. 

BEFORE  Darius  wan  elected  king  he  had  married 
the  daughter  of  Gobryas,  whose  name  is  not  known. 
Artabanranes,  the  eldest  of  the  three  sons  whom  he 
had  by  her,  afterwards  disputed  the  empire  with 
Xerxes. 

When  Darius  was  seated  in  the 
A.  M.  3483.     throne,*  the  better  to  secure  himself 
Ant.  J.  C.  521.     therein,  he  married  two  of  Cyrus's 
daughters,     Atossn    and    Aristona. 
The  former  had  been  wife  to  Cambyscs,  her  own  bro- 
ther, and    afterwards  to  Smerdis  the  Magian,  during 
the  time  he  possessed  the  throne.  Aristona  was  still  a 
rirgin  when  Darius  married  her;  and  of  all  his  wives 
was  the  person  he  most  loved.     He  likewise  married 
Fannys,  daughter  of  the  true  Smerdis,  who  was  Cam- 
byoe.<'  brother,  as  also  Phedyma,  daughter  to  Otanes, 
by  whose  management  the  imposture  of  the  Magian 

•  For  the  Author'*  Introduction   to  this  division  of  the 
work,  »ce  page  xxx.  of  the  Preface. 

>  Herod.  I.  vi.  e.  98.    VaJ.  Max.  1.  ix.  •.  S. 

•  Ilsrod.  1.  iii.  c.  08. 


was  discovered.  By  these  wives  he  had  a  great  num- 
ber of  children  of  both  sexes. 

We  have  already  seen,  that  the  seven  conspirators 
who  put  the  Magian  to  death,  had  agreed  among 
themselves,  that  he  whose  horse,  on  a  day  appointed, 
first  neighed  at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  should  be  de- 
clared king;  and  thai  Darius's  hcrse,  by  an  artifice 
of  his  groom,  procured  his  master  that  honour.  The 
king,3  desiring  to  transmit  to  future  ages  his  gratitude 
for  this  signal  service,  caused  an  equestrian  statue  to 
be  set  up,  with  tliis  inscription:  Dnriiis  the  son  of 
ffys/asjies  acquired  the  kingdom  of  Persia  by  meant 
f>f  his  horse  (whose  name  was  inserted,)  and  of  his 
groom  Oelnres.  There  is  in  this  incription,  in  which 
we  see  the  king  is  not  ashamed  to  own  himself  in- 
debted to  his  horse  and  his  groom,  for  so  transcendent 
a  benefaction  as  the  regal  diadem,  when  it  was  his  in- 
terest, one  would  think,  to  have  it  considered  as  the 
fruits  of  a  superior  merit;  there  is,  I  say,  in  this  in- 
scription, a  simplicity  and  sincerity  strikingly  charac- 
teristic of  those  ancient  times,  and  extremely  remote 
from  the  pride  and  vanity  of  our  own. 

One  of  the  first  cares  of  Darius,*  when  he  IT*  »et- 
tled  in  the  throne,  was  to  regulate  the  state  of  the 
provinces,  and  to  put  his  finances  into  good  order. 
Before  his  time,  Cyrus  and  Cambyses  had  contented 
themselves  with  receiving  from  the  conquered  nations 
such  free  gifts  only  as  they  voluntarily  offered,  and 
with  requiring  a  certain  number  of  troops  when  they 
had  occasion  for  them.  But  Darius  perceived  that  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  preserve  all  the  nations 
subject  to  him  in  peace  and  security,  without  keeping 
up  regular  forces;  and  equally  impossible  to  maintain 
these  forces,  without  assigning  then)  a  certain  pay; 
or  to  be  able  punctually  to  give  them  that  pay,  with- 
out laying  taxes  and  impositions  upon  the  people. 

In  order  therefore  the  better  to  regulate  tht  admin- 
istration of  his  finances,  he  divided  the  whole  empjre 
into  twenty  districts  or  governments,  each  of  which 
was  annually  to  pay  a  certain  sum  to  the  satrap  ap- 
pointed for  that  purpose.  The  natural  subjects,  that 
is,  the  Persians,  were  exempt  from  all  imposts.  Hr.ro- 
dotus  gives  an  exact  enumeration  of  these  province* 


i  H.rod.  I.  iii.  e.  86 


Jb.  e.  80— in 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


i>29 


itcn  may  very  much  contribute  to  give  us  a  just  idea 
fthe  extent  ol  the  Persian  empire. 

In  Asia  it  comprehended  all  that  now  belongs  to 
the  Persians  and  Turks;  in  Africa,  it  took  in  r.gypt 
and  part  of  Nubia,  as  also  the  roast  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean as  far  as  the  kingdom  of  Barca;  in  Europe  part 
of  Thrace  and  Macedonia.  But  it  must  be  observed, 
that  in  this  vast  extent  of  country,  there  were  several 
nations,  which  were  only  tributary,  and  not  properly 
subjects  to  Persia;  as  is  the  case  "at  this  day  with  re- 
spect to  the  Turkish  empire. 

History  observes,1  that  Darius,  in  imposing  these 
tributes,  showed  great  wisdom  and  moderation.  He 
•ent  for  the  principal  inhabitants  of  every  province; 
•uch  as  were  best  acquainted  with  the  condition  and 
ability  of  their  country,  and  were  interested  in  giving 
him  a  true  and  impartial  account.  He  then  asked 
them,  if  such  and  such  sums,  which  he  proposed  to 
each  of  them  for  their  respective  provinces,  were  not 
too  great,  or  did  not  exceed  what  they  were  able  to 
pay;  his  intention  being:,  as  he  told  them,  not  to  op- 
pre«j  dis  subjects,  but  only  to  require  such  aids  from 
them  as  were  proportioned  to  their  incomes,  and  ab- 
solutt  ly  necessary  for  the  defence  of  the  state.  They 
all  answered,  that  the  sums  he  proposed  were  very 
reasonable,  and  such  as  would  not  be  burdensome  to 
the  people.  The  king,  however,  was  pleased  to  abate 
one  half,  choosing  rather  to  keep  a  great  deal  within 
bounds,  than  to  risk  a  possibility  of  exceeding  them. 

But  notwithstanding  this  extraordinary  moderation 
on  the  knur's  part,  as  there  is  something  odious  in  all 
imposts,  the  Persians,  who  had  given  the  surname  of 
Father  to  Cyrus,  and  of  Master  to  Cambyses,  thought 
Gt  to  characterize  Darius  by  that  of  Merchant.* 

The  several  slims  levied  by  the  imposition  of  these 
tributes  or  taxes,  as  far  as  we  can  infer  from  the  cal- 
rulalion  of  Herodotus,  which  is  attended  with  great 
difficulties,  amounted  in  the  whole  to  about  44,000.000 
per  annum  French,  or  something  less  than  2,000,000 
English  money. 

Alter  the  Jeath  of  the  Magian  impostor,*  it  was 
agreed  that  the  Persian  noblemen  who  had  conspired 
against  him,  should,  besides  several  other  marks  of 
distinction,  have  the  liberty  of  free  access  to  the  king's 
presence  at  all  times,  except  when  he  was  alone  with 
the  queen.  Intaphernes,  one  of  those  noblemen,  be- 
ing refused  admittance  into  the  king's  apartment  at  a 
time  when  the  king  and  queen  were  in  private  toge- 
ther, in  a  violent  rage  attacked  the  officers  of  the 
palace,  abused  them  outrageously,  cutting  their  faces 
with  his  scymitar.  Darius  highly  resented  fo  heinous 
an  insult;  and  at  first  apprehenJed  it  might  be  a  con- 
ipiracy  amongst  the  noblemen.  But  when  he  was 
well  assured  of  the  contrary,  he  capsed  Intaphernes, 
with  his  children,  and  all  that  were  of  his  family,  to 
be  se'red,  and  had  them  all  condemned  to  death,' con- 
founding through  a  blind  excess  of  severity,  the  inno- 
cent with  the  guilty.  In  these  unhappy  circumstances, 
the  wife  of  the  criminal  went  every  day  to  the  gates 
of' the  palace,  crying  and  weeping  in  the  most  lament- 
able manner,  and  never  ceasing  to  implore  the  king's 
clemency  with  all  the  pathetic  eloquence  of  sorrow 
and  distress.  The  king  could  not  resist  so  moving  a 
spectacle,  and  besides  her  own,  granted  her  the  par- 
don of  any  one  of  her  family  whom  she  should  choose. 
This  gave  the  unhappy  lady  great  perplexily,  who 
d<  sired,  no  doubt  to  save  them  all.  At  last, "after  a 
long  deliberation,  she  determined  in  favour  of  her 
brother. 

This  choice,  wherein  she  seemed  not  to  have  fol- 
lowed the  sentiment*  which  nature  should  dictate  to  a 
mother  and  a  wife,  surprised  the  king;  and  when  he 
desired  she  might  be  asked  the  reason  of  it,  she  made 
answer,  that  by  a  second  marriage  the  loss  of  a  hus- 
ba.u'l  and  children  might  be  retrieved;  but  that,  her 
fattier  and  mother  being  dead,  there  was  no  possibil- 
ity of  recovering  a  brother.  Darius,  besides  the  life 


«  Plot,  in  Apophthegm,  p.  172. 

»  H»-7>>,»{  signifies  sontcthing  mill  more  mean  «nd  con- 
temptible, but  I  do  not  know  liow  to  express  it  in  our  Ian- 
ruase.  It  may  signify  a  broker  or  a  reiailer,  »ny  one  that 
fcuy*  to  foil  ••tin. 

•  Herod.  '.  iii  e.  118, 119. 


of  her  brother,  granted  her  the  same  favoui  for  th« 
eldest  of  her  children. 

I  have  already  related  ID  this  volume,4  by  what  an 
instance  of  perfidiousness  Orttes,  one  of  the  king's 
governors  in  Asia  Minor,  brought  about  the  death  of 
Polycrates,  tyrant  of  Samos.  So  black  and  detesta- 
ble a  crime  did  not  go  unpunished.  Darius  found  out, 
that  Oretes  strangely  abused  his  power,  making  no 
account  of  the  blood  of  those  persons  who  had  the 
misfortune  to  displease  him.  This  satrap  carried  his 
insolence  so  far,  as  to  put  to  death  a  messenger  sent 
him  by  the  king,  because  the  orders  he  had  brought 
him  were  disagreeable.  Darius,  who  did  not  yet  think 
himself  well  settled  in  the  throne,  would  not  venture 
to  attack  him  openly;  for  the  satrap  had  no  less  than 
1000  soldiers  for  his  guard,  not  to  mention  the  soldiers 
he  was  able  to  raise  from  his  government,  which  in- 
cluded Phrygia,  Lydia,  and  Ionia.  The  king  there- 
fore thought  fit  to  proceed  in  a  secret  manner  to  rid 
himself  oT  so  dangerous  a  servant.  With  this  com- 
mission he  intrusted  one  of  his  officers,  of  approved 
fidelity  and  attachment  to  his  person.  The  officer,  un- 
der pretence  of  other  business,  went  to  Sardis.  where 
with  great  dexterity,  he  sounded  the  dispositions  of 
the  people.  To  pave  the  way  to  his  design,  he  first 
gave  the  principal  officers  of  the  governor's  guard  let- 
ters from  the  king,  which  contained  nothing  but  gene- 
ral orders.  A  little  while  after  he  delivered  them  other 
letters,  in  which  their  orders  were  more  express  and 
particular.  And  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  perfectly 
sure  of  the  disposition  of  the  troops,  he  then  read  them 
a  third  letter,  wherein  the  king  in  plain  terms  com- 
manded them  to  put  the  governor  to  death;  and  this 
order  was  executed  without  delay.  All  his  effects 
were  confiscated  to  the  king;  and  all  the  persons  be- 
longing to  his  family  and  household  were  removed  to 
Susa.  Among  the  rest  there  was  a  celebrated  physi- 
cian of  Crofona,  whose  name  was  Democedes.  This 
physician's  story  is  very  singular,  and  happened  to  b« 
the  occasion  of  some  considerable  events. 

Not  long  after  the  forementioned  transaction,8  Da- 
rius chanced  to  have  a  fall  from  his  horse  in  hunting 
by  which  he  wrenched  one  of  his  feet  in  so  violent 
manner,  and  put  his  heel  out  of  joint.  The  Egyptians 
were  then  reckoned  the  most  skilful  in  physic;  for 
which  reason  the  king  had  several  physicians  of  that 
nation  about  him.  These  undertook  to  cure  the  king,* 
and  exerted  all  their  skill  on  so  important  an  occa- 
sion; but  they  were  so  awkward  in  the  operation,  and 
in  the  handling-  and  managing  the  king's  foot,  that 
they  put  him  to  incredible  pain;  so  that  he  passed 
seven  days  and  seven  nights  without  sleeping.  De- 
mocedes was  mentioned  on  this  occasion  br  some  per- 
son, who  had  heard  him  extolled  at  Sardls  as  a  very 
able  physician.  He  was  sent  for  immediately,  and 
brought  to  the  king  in  the  condition  he  was  in,  with 
his  irons  on,  and  a  very  poor  apparel;  for  he  was  at 
that  time  actually  a  prisoner.  The  king  asked  him, 
whether  he  had  any  knowledge  of  physic?  At  first 
be  denied  he  had,  fearing,  that  if  he  should  give  any 
proofs  of  his  skill,  he  should  be  detained  in  Persia, 
and  by  that  means  be  forever  debarred  from  returning 
to  his  own  country,  for  which  he  had  an  exceeding 
affection.  Darius,  displeased  with  his  answer,  ordered 
him  to  be  put  to  the  torture.  Democedes  found  it  was 
necessary  to  own  the  truth;  and  therefore  offered  his 
service  to  the  king.  The  first  thing  he  did  was  fo 
apply  gentle  fomentations  to  the  part  affected.  This 
remedy  had  a  speedy  effect;  the  king  recovered  his 
sleep;  and  in  a  few  days  was  perfectly  cured,  both  of 
the  sprain  and  the  dislocation.  To  recompense  the 
physician,  the  king  made  him  a  present  of  two  pair  of 
golden  chains.  Upon  which  Democedes  asked  him 
whether  he  meant  to  reward  the  happy  success  of  his 
endeavours  by  doubling  his  misfortunes?  The  king 
was  pleased  with  that  saying;  and  ordered  his  eu- 
nuchs to  conduct  Democe'des  to  his  wives,  that  thej 
might  see  the  person  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  his 
recovery.  They  all  made  him  very  magnificent  pre- 


4  Herod.  I.  iii.  c.  120,  128.  •  Ib.  c.  129,  130 

•  Anciently  the  same  person!  practised  both  as  pbycirii 
and  torgeoni'. 


230 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


•ents;  so  that  in  one  diy'stime  he  became  extremely 
rich. 

Democedes  was  a  native  of  Crotona,1  a  city  ol 
Graecia  Magna  in  the  lower  Calabria  in  Italy,  from 
whence  he  had  been  obliged  to  tly ,  on  account  of  the 
ill-treatment  be  received  from  his  father.  He  first 
went  to  ^Egina,*  where,  by  several  successful  cures,  he 
acquired  great  reputation:  the  inhabitants  of  this  place 
settled  on  him  a  yearly  pension  of  a  talent.  The  ta- 
lent contained  sixty  minae,  and  was  worth  about  3000 
livres  French  money.  Some  time  after  he  was  in- 
vited to  Athens;  where  they  augmented  his  pension 
to  5000  livres  per  annum.3  After  this  he  was  received 
into  the  family  of  Polycrates,  tyrant  of  Samos,  who 
gave  him  a  pension  of  2000  crowns.4  It  redounds 
much  to  the  honour  of  cities  or  princes,  by  handsome 
pensions  or  salaries,  to  engage  such  persons  in  their 
iervice  as  are  of  public  benefit  to  mankind;  and  even 
to  induce  foreigners  of  worth  and  merit  to  come  and 
•ettle  among  them.  The  Crotonians  from  this  time 
had  the  reputation  of  having  the  ablest  physicians; 
and  next  after  them,  the  people  of  Cyrene  in  Africa. 
The  Argives  were  at  the  same  time  reputed  to  excel 
in  music. 

Democedes,5  after  performing  this  cure  upon  the 
king,  was  admitted  to  the  honour  of  eating  at  his  ta- 
ble, and  came  to  have  great  influence  at  Susa.  At  his 
intercession,  the  Egyptian  physicians  were  pardoned, 
who  had  all  been  condemned  to  be  hanged  lor  having 
been  less  skilful  than  the  Grecian  physician;  as  if  they 
were  obliged  to  answer  for  the  success  of  their  reme- 
dies, or  that  it  was  a  crime  not  to  be  able  to  cure  a 
king.  This  is  a  strange  abuse,  though  too  common 
an  effect  of  unlimited  power,  which  is  seldom  guided 
by  reason  or  equity,  and  which,  being  accustomed  to 
•ee  every  thing  give  way  implicitly  to  its  authority,  ex- 
pects that  its  commands,  of  what  nature  soever,  should 
be  instantly  performed!  We  have  seen  something 
of  this  kind  in  the  history  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  who 
pronounced  a  general  sentence  of  death  upon  all  his 
magicians,  because  they  could  not  divine  what  it  was 
he  had  drained  in  the  night,  which  he  himself  had 
forgotten.  Democedes  procured  also  the  enlargement 
of  several  of  those  persons  who  had  been  imprisoned 
with  him.  He  lived  in  the  greatest  affluence,  and  was 
in  the  highest  esteem  and  favour  with  the  king.  But 
he  was  at  a  great  distance  from  his  own  country,  and 
his  thoughts  aid  desires  were  continually  bent  upon 
Greece. 

He  had  the  good  fortune  to  perform  another  cure,' 
which  contributed  to  raise  his  credit  and  reputation 
ttill  higher.  Atossa,  one  of  the  king's  wives,  and 
daughter  to  Cyrus,  was  attacked  with  a  cancer  in  her 
brtast.  As  long  as  the  pain  was  moderate,  she  bore  it 
with  patience,  not  being  able  to  prevail  on  herself, 
out  of  modesty,  to  discover  her  disorder.  But  at  last 
•he  was  constrained  to  it,  and  sent  for  Democedes; 
who  promised  to  cure  her,  and  at  the  same  time  re- 
quested that  she  would  be  pleased  to  grant  him  a  cer- 
tain favour  he  should  beg  of  her,  entirely  consistent 
with  her  honour.  The  queen  engaged  her  word,  and 
was  cured.  The  favour  desired  by  the  physician  was 
to  procure  him  a  journey  into  his  own  country;  and 
the  queen  was  not  unmindful  of  her  promise.  It  was 
worth  while  to  take  notice  of  such  events,'  \vhich 
though  not  very  considerable  in  themselves, :  'ten  give 
occasion  to  the  greatest  enterprises  of  princes,  and  are 
•Ten  the  secret  springs  and  distant  causes  of  them. 

As  Atossa  was  conversing  one  day  with  Darius,  she 
took  occasion  to  represent  to  him,  that,  as  he  was  in 
the  flower  of  his  age,  and  of  H  vigorous  constitution, 
capable  of  enduring  the  fatigues  of  war,  and  had  nu- 
merous armies  nt  command,  it  would  be  for  his  honour 
to  form  some  great  enterprise,  and  let  the  Persians  see 
they  had  a  man  of  courage  for  their  king.  You  have 
hit  my  thoughts,  replied  Darius;  for  I  was  meditating 


t  Hrrod.  1.  iii.  ..  131. 

*  An  i»lnnd  between  Attica  and  Peloponnesus. 

»  100  minm.  4  Two  calenlfi. 

»  ll.-r.-l.  I.  iii.  c.  1.T2.  •  Ib.  c.  135,  1.T7. 

*  N»n  i>ine  IHU  fuprit  introcpicerc  illn  primo  aitnoctu  levia, 
ei  qui.ii  um;  naruin  nepe  i  irum  rtmus  oriontur.     Tac.  1.  IT. 

34. 


an  attack  upon  the  Scythians.  I  had  much  rather,  sayi 
Atossa,  that  you  would  first  turn  your  arms  against 
Greece.  I  have  heard  great  things  said  in  praise  of 
the  women  of  Lacedaemon,  of  Argos,  Athens,  nnd 
Corinth ;  and  should  be  very  glad  to  have  some  01  them 
in  my  service.  Besides,  \ou  have  a  person  here  that 
might  be  very  useful  to  you  in  such  an  enterprise,  and 
could  give  you  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  country: 
the  person  I  mean  is  Democedes,  who  hath  cured  both 
you  and  me.  This  was  enough  for  the  king,  and  the 
affair  was  resolved  upon  immediately.  Fifteen  Persian 
noblemen  were  appointed  to  accompany  Democedes 
into  Greece,  and  to  examine  with  him  all  the  maritime 
places  as  thoroughly  as  possible.  The  king  strictly 
charged  these  persons,  above  all  things",  to  keep 
watchful  eye  upon  the  physician,  that  he  did  not  give 
them  the  slip,  and  to  bring  him  back  with  them  to  the 
Persian  court. 

Darius,  in  giving  such  an  order,  plainly  showed  he 
did  not  understand  the  proper  methods  tor  engaging 
men  of  abilities  and  merit  to  reside  in  his  dominions, 
and  for  attaching  them  to  his  person.  To  pretend  to 
do  this  by  authority  and  compulsion,  is  the  sure  way 
of  suppressing  all  knowledge  and  industry,  and  of 
driving  away  the  liberal  arts  and  sciences,  which  must 
be  free  and  unconfined,  like  the  genius  from  whence 
they  spring.  For  one  man  of  genius  that  will  be  kept 
in  a  country  by  force,  thousands  Vill  be  driven  away 
who  would  probably  have  chosen  to  reside  in  it,  if 
they  could  enjoy  their  liberty  and  meet  with  kind 
treatment. 

When  Darius  had  formed  his  design  of  sending  in 
to  Greece,  he  acquainted  Democedes  with  it,  Jaid 
open  his  views  to  him,  and  told  him  the  occasion  he 
had  for  his  service  in  conducting  thfe  Persian  noble- 
men thither,  particularly  to  the  maritime  towns,  in 
older  to  observe  their  situation  and  strength:  at  the 
same  time  earnestly  desiring  him,  that,  when  that 
was  done,  he  would  return  back  with  them  to  Persia. 
The  king  permitted  him  to  carry  all  his  moveablet 
with  them,  and  give  them,  if  he  pleased,  to  his  father 
and  brothers,  promising,  at  his  return,  to  give  him  as 
many  of  greater  value;  and  signified  to  him  farther, 
that  he  would  order  the  galley  in  which  he  was  to 
sail,  to  be  laden  with  very  rich  presents,  for  him  to  be- 
stow as  he  thought  fit  on  the  rest  of  his  family.  The 
king's  intention  appeared,  by  this  manner  of  speaking, 
to  be  undisguised  and  without  artifice:  but  Demo- 
cedes was  afraid  it  might  be  a  snare  laid  for  him,  to 
discover  whether  he  intended  to  return  to  Persia  or 
not;  and  therefore,  to  remove  all  suspicion, he  left  hi* 
own  goods  behind  him  at  Susa,  and  only  took  with 
him  the  presents  designed  for  his  family. 

The  first  place  the  commissioners  landed  at  was 
Sidon  in  Phoenicia,  where  they  equipped  two  large 
vessels  for  themselves,  and  put  all  they  had  brought 
along  with  them  on  board  a  transport.  After  having 
passed  through,  and  carefully  examined  the  chief  cities 
of  Greece,  they  went  t>  Tarentum  in  Italy  Here  the 
Persian  noblemen  were  taken  up  as  spies;  nnd  Demo- 
cedes, taking  advantage  of  this  arrest,  made  his  escape 
from  them,  and  Hed  to  Crotona.  When  the  Persian 
lords  had  recovered  their  liberty,  they  pursued  h'in 
thither,  but  could  not  prevail  upon  the  Crotoniwns  to 
deliver  up  their  fellow-citiien.  The  city  moreover 
seized  the  loaded  vessel;  and  the  Persians/having  lost 
their  guide,  laid  aside  the  thoughts  of  going  through 
the  other  parts  of  Greece,  and  set  out  for  their  own 
country.  Democedes  let  them  know,  at  their  depar- 
ture, that  he  was  going  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Milo, 
a  famous  wrestler  of  Crotona, 'whose  name  was  very 
well  known  to  the  ting.  This  voyage  of  the  Persian 
noblemen  into  Greece,  was  attended  with  no  immedi- 
ate consequence;  because  on  their  return  home,  they 
found  the  king  engaged  in  other  affairs. 

In  the  third  year  of  this  king's 
reign,»  which  was  but  the  second  A.  M.  3M5. 

according  to  the  Jewish  compute-       Ant.  J.  C.  519. 
tion,  the  Samaritans  gave  the  Jews 
new  trouble.     In  the  preceding  reigns,  they  had  pro- 
cured an  order  to  prohibit  the  Jews  from  proceeding 


*  Ezra  c  v 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS 


231 


my  farther  in  building  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem. 
But  upon  the  earnest  exhortation  of  the  prophets,  and 
the  express  order  of  God,  the  Israelites  had  lately  re- 
sumed the  work,  which  had  been  interrupted  for  sev- 
eral years,  and  carried  it  on  with  great  vigour.  The 
Samaritans  had  recourse  to  their  ancient  practices, 
to  prevent  them.  To  this  end  they  applied  to  Tat- 
nai,  whom  Darius  had  made  governor  of  the  provin- 
ce* of  83' ria  and  Palestine.  They  complained  to  him 
of  the  audacious  proceedings  of  the  Jews,  who,  of 
their  own  authority,  and  in  defiance  of  the  prohibi- 
•ions  to  the  contrary,  presumed  to  rebuild  their  tem- 
ple: which  must  necessarily  be  prejudicial  to  the 
king's  interests.  Upon  this  representation  of  theirs, 
the  governor  thought  fit  lo  go  himself  to  Jerusalem. 
And  being  a  person  of  great  equity  and  moderation, 
when  he  had  inspected  the  work,  he  did  not  think 
proper  to  proceed  violently,  and  to  put  a  stop  lo  it 
without  any  farther  deliberation;  but  inquired  of  the 
Jewish  elders  what  license  they  had  for  entering  upon 
a  work  of  that  nature.  The  Jews  hereupon  producing 
the  edict  of  Cyrus,  he  would  not  of  himself  ordain  any 
thing  in  contradiction  to  it,  but  sent  an  account  of  the 
matter  to  the  king,  and  desired  to  know  his  pleasure. 
He  gave  the  king  a  true  representation  of  the  matter, 
acquainting  him  with  the  edict  of  Cyrus,  which  the 
Jews  alleged  in  their  justification,  and  desired  him  to 
order  the  registers  to  be  consulted,  to  know  whether 
Cyrus  had  really  published  such  an  edict,  and  to  be 
pleased  to  send  him  instructions  how  he  was  to  act  in 
the  affair.  Darius  having  commanded  the  registers 
to  be  examined,'  the  edict  was  found  at  Ecbatana,  in 
Media,  the  place  where  Cyrus  was  at  the  time  of  its 
being  granted.  Now  Darius  having  a  great  respect 
for  the  memory  of  that  prince,  confirmed  his  edict, 
and  caused  another  to  be  drawn  up,  wherein  the  for- 
mer was  referred  to,  and  ratified.  This  motive  of  re- 
gard to  the  memory  of  Cyrus,  had  there  been  nothing 
else  to  influence  the  king,  would  be  very  laudable; 
but  the  Scripture  informs  us,  that  it  was  God  himself 
who  influenced  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  king,  and 
inspired  him  with  a  favourable  disposition  to  the  Jews. 
The  truth  of  this  appears  pretty  plain  from  the  edict 
itself.  In  the  first  place  it  ordains,  that  all  the  vic- 
tims, oblations,  and  other  expenses  of  the  temple,  be 
abundantly  furnished  the  Jews,  as  the  priests  should 
require:  in  the  second  place  it  enjoins  the  priests  of 
Jerusalem,  when  they  offered  their  sacrifices  to  the 
God  of  Heaven,  to  pray  for  the  preservation  of  the  life 
of  the  king  and  the  princes  his  children;  and  lastly, 
it  goes  so  far  as  to  denounce  imprecations  against  all 
princes  and  people  that  should  hinder  the  carrying  on 
of  the  building  of  the  temple,  or  that  should  attempt 
to  destroy  it:  by  all  whirh  Darius  evidently  acknow- 
ledges, that  the  God  of  Israel  is  able  to  overturn  the 
kiiiu'liims  of  the  world,  and  to  dethrone  the  most 
mighty  and  powerful  princes. 

By  virtue  of  this  edict,  the  Jews  were  not  only  au- 
thorized to  proceed  in  the  building  of  their  temple, 
but  all  the  expense*  thereof  were  algo  to  be  furnished 
to  them  out  of  the  taxes  and  imposts  of  the  province. 
What  must  have  become  of  the  Jews,  when  the 
crimes  of  disobedience  and  rebellion  were  laid  to  their 
chance,  if  at  such  a  juncture  their  superiors  had  only 
hearkened  to  their  enemies,  and  not  given  them  leave 
to  justify  themselves. 

The  same  prince,  some  time  after,  gave  a  still  more 
signal  proof  of  his  love  for  justice,  and  of  his  abhor- 
rence of  informers,  a  detestable  race  of  men,  by  their 
very  nature  and  condition  enemies  to  all  merit  and 
•11  Virtue.  It  is  pretty  obvious  that  I  mean  the  fa- 
mous edict,  published  by  this  prince  against  Hainan, 
in  favour  of  the  Jew*,  at  the  request  of  Esther,  whom 
the  kins:  had  taken  to  his  bed  in  the  room  of  Va»hti, 
on."  of  his  wives.  According  to  archbishop  Usher, 
this  Vashti  is  the  same  person  as  is  called  by  profane 
writers  Ato»sa;  and  the  Ahasuerus  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
lures  the  same  as  Darius:  but  according  to  other*,  it 
is  Artaxrrxev  The  fa,~t  is  well  known,  being  related 
,n  the  sai  red  history:  I  have  given,  however,  a  brief 
account  of  it  in  this  volume. 

Such  actions  of  justice  do  great  honour  to  a  prince's 

i  Ezra  e.  ri. 


memory;  as  do  also  those  of  gratitude,  of  which  Um- 
rius,  on  a  certain  occasion,  gave  a  very  laudable  in- 
stance. Syloson,*  brother  to  Polycrates  tyrant  of 
Sanios,  had  once  made  Darius  a  present  of  a  suit  of 
clothes,  of  a  curious  red  colour,  which  extremely 
pleased  Darius's  fancy,  and  would  never  suffer  him  to 
make  any  return  for  it.  Darius  at  that  time  was  but 
a  private  gentleman,  an  officer  in  the  guards  of  Cam- 
byses,  whom  he  accompanied  to  Memphis,  in  hit 
Egyptian  expedition.  When  Darius  was  on  the  throne 
ol  Persia,  Syloson  went  to  Susa,  presented  himself  at 
the  gate  ot  his  palace,  and  caused  himself  to  be  an- 
nounced as  a  Grecian,  to  whom  his  majesty  was  un- 
der some  obligation.  Darius,  surprised  at  such  a 
message,  and  curious  to  know  the  truth  of  it,  ordered 
him  to  be  brought  in.  When  he  saw  him,  he  remem- 
bered him.  and  acknowledged  him  to  have  been  hit 
benefactor;  nnd  was  so  lar  from  being  ashamed  of  an 
adventure  which  might  seem  not  to  be  much  for  hi* 
honour,  that  he  ingeniously  applauded  the  gentle- 
man's generosity,  which  proceeded  from  no  other  mo- 
tive than  that  of  doing  a  pleasure  to  a  person  from 
whom  he  could  have  no  expectations;  and  then  pro- 
posed to  make  him  a  considerable  present  of  gold  aud 
silver.  But  money  was  not  the  thing  Syloson  desi- 
red: the  love  of  his  country  was  his  predominant  pas- 
sion. The  favour  he  required  of  the  king  was,  that 
he  would  settle  him  at  Sanios,  without  shedding  the 
blood  of  his  citizens,  bv  driving  out  the  person  that 
had  usurped  the  government  since  the  death  of  hi* 
brother.  Darius  consented,  and  committed  the  con- 
duct of  the  expedition  to  Otanes,  one  of  the  principal 
lord*  of  his  court,  who  undertook  it  with  joy,  and  per- 
formed it  with  success.* 

SECTION    II. — REVOLT  AUD  REDUCTION  OF  BABY- 
LON. 

IN  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  year 
of  Darius,  Babylon    revolted,  and  A.  M.  3488. 

could  not  be  reduced  till  after  a       Ant.  J.  C.  516. 
twenty  months'    siege.     This  city, 
foamerly  mistress  of  the  East,  grew  impatient  of  the 
Persian  yoke,  especially  after  the  removing  of  the  im- 

Iierial  seat  to  Susa,  which  very  much  diminished  Baby- 
on'*  wealth  and  grandeur.  The  Babylonians,  taking 
advantage  of  the  revolution  that  happened  in  Persia, 
first  on  the  death  of  Cambyses,  and  afterwards  on  the 
massacre  of  the  Magians,  made  secretly  for  fouryears 
together  all  kinds  of  preparations  for  war.  When 
they  thought  the  city  sufficiently  stored  with  provi- 
sions for  many  years,  they  set  up  the  standard  of  re- 
bellion; which  obliged  Darius  to  besiege  them  with 
all  his  forces.  Now  God  continued  to  accomplish 
those  terrible  threatening*  he  had  denounced  against 
Babylon:  that  he  would  not  only  humble  and  bring 
down  that  proud  and  impious  city,  but  depopulate  and 
lay  it  waste  with  fire  and  blood,  utterly  exterminate 
it,  and  reduce  it  to  an  eternal  solitude.  In  order  to 
fulfil  these  predictions,  God  permitted  the  Babylo- 
nians to  rebel  against  Darius,  and  by  that  mean*  to 
draw  upon  themselves  the  whole  force  of  the  Persian 
empire;  and  they  themselves  were  the  first  to  pat 
these  prophecies  in  execution,  by  destroying  a  great 
number  of  their  own  people,  as  will  be  seen  presently. 
It  is  probable  that  the  Jew*,  of  whom  a  considerable 
number  remained  at  Babylon,  went  out  of  the  citjr 
before  the  siege  was  formed,  a*  the  prophet  Isaiah  < 
and  Jeremiah  had  exhorted  them  long  before,  and 
Zechariah  very  lately  in  the  following  terms:  Them 
Zion  thai  dwtlhst  with,  the  daughter  of  Babylon,  Jit  t 
from  the  country,  and  suvc  thyself. 

The  Babylonians  to  make  their  provision  last  the 
longer,  and  to  enable  them  to  hold  out  with  the 
greater  vigour,  took  the  most  desperate  and  barbarou* 
resolution  that  ever  was  heard  of;  which  was,  to  de- 
«troy  all  such  of  their  own  people  as  were  unservice- 
able on  this  occasion.  For  this  purpose  they  assem- 
bled together  all  their  wives  and  children,  and  str.  n- 
gled  them.  Only  every  man  was  allowed  to  keep  his 
best  beloved  wife,  and  one  servant-maid  to  do  the 
business  of  the  family. 

•  Herod.  I.  hi.  c.  139,  149.  •  Ib.  e.  150—100. 

•  be,  ilfiii.  SK .  Jcr.  I.  g.  li.  6, 9,  45.    Zer.b.  ii.  0—9 


232 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


After  this  cruel  execution,  the  unhappy  remainder 
of  the  inhabitants,  thinking-  themselves  out  of  all  dan- 
ger both  on  account  of  their  fortifications,  which  they 
looked  upon  as  impregnable,  and  the  vast  quantity 
of  provisions  they  had  laid  up,  beeran  to  insult  the 
besiegers  from  the  tops  of  their  walls, and  to  provoke 
them  with  opprobrious  language.  The  Persians,  for 
the  space  of  eighteen  months,  did  all  that  force  or 
•tratagem  was  capable  of,  to  make  themselves  masters 
of  the  city;  nor  did  they  forget  to  make  use  of  the 
same  means  as  had  so  happily  succeeded  with  Cyrus 
some  years  before;  I  mean  that  of  turning  the  course 
of  the  river.  But  all  their  efforts  were  fruitless;  and 
Darius  began  almost  to  despair  c-f  taking  the  place, 
when  a  stratagem,  till  then  unheard  of,  opened  the 
gates  of  the  city  to  him.  He  was  strangely  surprised 
one  morning  to  see  Zopyrus,  one  of  the  chief  noble- 
men of  his  court,  and  son  of  Megabyzus.  who  was  one 
of  the  seven  lords  that  made  the  association  against 
the  Magians;  to  see  him,  I  say,  appear  before  him  all 
over  blood,  with  his  nose  and  ears  cut  off,  and  his 
whole  body  disfigured  with  wounds.  Starting  up 
from  his  throne,  he  cried  out,  •'  Who  is  it,  Zopyrns, 
that  has  dared  to  treat  you  thus?" — "You  yourself, 
O  king,"  replied  Zopyrus.  "The  desire  I  had  of 
rendering  you  service  has  put  me  into  this  condition. 
As  I  was  fully  persuaded  that  you  would  never  have 
consented  tr>  this  method,  I  took  counsel  alone  of  the 
leal  whirh  I  have  for  your  service."  He  then  opened 
to  him  his  design  of  going  over  to  the  enemy;  and 
they  settled  every  thing  together  that  was  proper  to 
be  done.  The  king  could  not  see  him  set  out  upon 
this  extraordinary  project  without  the  utmost  afflic- 
tion and  concern.  Zopyrus  approached  the  walls  of 
the  city;  and  having  told  them  who  he  was,  was  soon 
admitted.  They  then  carried  him  before  the  gov- 
ernor, to  whom  he  laid  open  his  misfortune,  and  the 
cruel  treatment  he  had  met  with  from  Darius,  for  hav- 
ing dissuaded  him  from  continuing  any  longer  l>efore 
n  city  which  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  take.  He 
offered  the  Babylonians  his  service,  which  could  not 
foil  of  being  highly  useful  to  them,  since  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  designs  of  the  Persians,  and 
since  the  desire  of  revenge  would  inspire  him  with 
fresh  courage  and  resolution.  His  name  and  person 
were  both  well  known  at  Babylon:  the  condition  in 
which  he  appeared,  his  blood  and  his  wounds,  testified 
for  him;  and  by  proofs  not  to  be  sus|x>cted,  confirmed 
the  truth  of  all  he  advanced.  They  therefore  placed 
implicit  confidence  in  whatsoever  fie  told  tbem,  and 
gave  him  moreover  the  command  of  as  many  troops 
as  he  desired.  In  the  first  sally  he  made  he  cut  off 
1000  of  the  besiegers:  a  few  days  after  he  killed  dou- 
ble the  number;  and  on  the  third  time,  4000  of  their 
men  lay  dead  upon  the  spot.  All  this  had  been  before 
agreed  upon  between  him  and  Darius.  Nothing  -.vas 
•pw  talked  of  in  Babylon  hut  Zopyrus;  the  whole 
city  strove  who  should  extol  him  most,  and  they  had 
not  words  sufficient  to  express  their  hi°rh  value  for 
him,  and  how  happy  they  esteemed  themselves  in 
hsving  gained  so  great  a  man.  He  was  now  declared 
generalissimo  of  their  forces,  and  intrusted  with  the 
care  of  guarding  the  walls  of  the  city.  Darius  ap- 
proaching with  his  army  at  the  time  agreed  on  be- 
tween them,  Zopyrus  opened  the  gates  to  him,  and 
made  him  by  that  means  master  of  a  city,  which  he 
never  could  have  been  able  to  take  either  by  force  or 
famine 

As  powerful  as  this  p-tnce  was,  he  foond  himself 
incapable  of  making  a  sufficient  recom|>ense  for  so 
great  a  sen-ice;  and  he  u«ed  often  to  say,  that  he 
would  with  pleasure  sacrifice  100  Babylons.  if  he  had 
them,  to  restore  Zopyrus  to  the  condition  he  was  in 
before  he  inflicted  that  erne!  treatment  upon  himself. 
He  settled  upon  him,  during  life,  the  whole  revenue 
of  this  opulent  city,  of  which  he  alone  had  procured 
him  the  possession,  and  heaped  all  the  honours  upon 
him  that  a  kin?  could  possibly  confer  upon  a  subject. 
Megab,  tin,  who  commanded  the  Persian  army  in 
Fgypt  against  the  Athenians,  was  the  «on  to  this" Zo- 
pyrus: and  that  Zopyrus  who  went  over  to  the  Athe- 
nians ns  a  deserter,  was  his  grandson. 

Jsc    lojuer  was  Darius  in   possession  of  Bab>lon, 


than  he  ordered  the  100  gates  to  be  pulleJ  down  and 
all  the  walls  of  that  proud  city  to  be  entirely  i!<  mo(- 
ished,  that  she  might  never  be  in  a  condition  to  rtoel 
more  against  him.  If  he  had  pleased  to  make  use  of 
all  the  rights  of  a  conqueror,  he  might  upon  this  orca 
sion  have  exterminated  all  the  inhabitants.  But  he 
contented  himself  with  causing  3000  of  those  who 
were  principally  concerned  in  the  revolt  to  be  impaled, 
and  granted  a  pardon  to  all  the  rest.  And,  in  order 
to  hinder  the  depopulation  of  the  city,  he  caused 
50,000  women  to  be  brought  from  the  several  provin- 
ces of  his  empire,  to  supply  the  place  of  those  whom 
the  inhabitants  had  so  cruelly  destroyed  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  siege.  Such  was  the  fate  of  Babylon; 
and  thus  did  God  execute  his  vengeance  on  that  im- 
pious city,  for  the  cruelty  she  had  exercised  Inwards 
the  Jews,  in  falling  upon  a  free  people  without  anj 
reason  or  provocation;  in  destroying  their  govern- 
ment, laws,  and  worship;  in  forcing  them  from  their 
country,  and  transporting  then)  to  a  strange  land  ; 
where  they  imposed  a  most  grievous  yoke  of  servitude 
upon  them,  and  made  use  of  all  their  power  to  crush 
ami  afflict  an  unhappy  nation,  favoured  however  by 
God,  and  having  the  honour  to  be  styled  his  peculiar 
people. 

SECTION  III. — DARIUS  PREPARES  FOR  AN  EXPE- 
DITION AGAINST  THE  SCYTHIANS.  A  DIGRESSION 
UPON  THE  MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THAT  NA- 
TION. 

AFTER  the  reduction  of  Baby- 
lon,1   Darius  made  great  prepara-  A.  M.  3490. 
tions  for  war  against  the  Scythians,       Ant.  J.  C.  514. 
who   inhabited    that  large   tract  of 
land  which  lies  between  the  Danube  and  the  Tanai*. 
His  pretence  for  undertaking  this  war  was,  to  be  re- 
venged of  that  nation  for  the  invasion  of  Asia  by  their 
ancestors:*  a  very  frivolous  and  sorry  pretext;  and 
a  very  ridiculous  ground  for  reviving  an  old  quarrel, 
which  had  ceased  120  years  before. 

While  the  Scythians  were  employed  in  that  irrup- 
tion, which  lasted  eight-and-twenty  years,  the  Scy- 
thians' wives  married  their  slaves.  When  the  hus- 
bands were  on  their  return  home,  these  slaves  went 
out  to  meet  them  with  a  numerous  army,  and  disputed 
their  entrance  into  their  country.  After  some  battles 
fought  with  nearly  equal  loss  on  both  sides,  the  mas- 
ters considering  that  it  was  doing  too  much  honour 
to  their  slaves  to  put  them  upon  the  foot  of  soldiers, 
marched  against  them  in  the  next  encounter  with 
whips  in  their  hands  to  make  them  remember  their 
proper  condition.  This  stratagem  had  the  intended 
effect:  for  not  being  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  their 
masters  thus  armed,  they  all  ran  away. 

I  designed  in  this  pla^e  to  imitate  Herodotus,  who 
in  writing  of  this  war  thkes  occasion  to  give  an  ample 
account  of  all  that  relates  to  the  customs  and  man- 
ners of  the  Scythians.  But  I  shall  be  much  more 
brief  in  my  accoujit  of  this  matter  than  he  is. 

A  Digression  concerning  the  Scythians. 

Formerly  there  were  Scythians  both  in  Europe  and 
Asia,  most  of  them  inhabiting  those  parts  that  lie  to 
wards  the  North.  I  design  now  chiefly  to  treat  of  the 
first,  namely,  of  the  European  Scythians. 

Historians,  in  the  accounts  they  have  left  us  of  the 
manners  ami  character  of  the  Scythians,  i  elate  thingt 
of  them  that  are  entirely  opposite  and  contradictory 
to  one  another.  One  while  they  represent  them  M 
the  iustest  and  most  moderate  people  in  the  world: 
another  while  they  describe  them  as  a  fierce  and  bar- 
barous nation,  which  carried  its  cruelty  to  such  ex- 
cesses, HS  are  shocking  to  human  nature.  This  con- 
trariety is  a  manifest  proof,  that  those  different  char- 
acters are  to  be  applied  to  different  nations  in  that 
vast  and  extensive  tract  of  country;  and  that,  though 
they  were  all  comprehended  under  one  and  the  same 
general  denomination  of  Scythians,  we  ou«jht  not  to 
confound  them  or  their  characters  together. 


i  Hrrod.  1.  iv.  c.  1.     Joftin.  1.  ii.  r.,5 
»  Mention  ii  made  of  this  before. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


233 


Strabo  i  has  quoted  authors,  who  mention  «ome 
Scythians  dwelling  upon  the  coast  of  the  Kuxine  sea, 
*hat  rut  the  throats  of  all  strangers  who  cnnie  amongst 
them,  fed  upon  their  flesh,  and  made  pot?  and  drink- 
ing ve«,.|s  of  their  skulls,  when  they  had  dried  them. 
Herodotus,*  in  describing  the  sacrifices  which  the 
Scythian*  offered  to  the  g-od  Mars,  says,  they  used  to 
ofler  hiitiinn  victims.  Their  manner  of  making  trea- 
ties,* according  to  this  author's  account,  was  very 
Strange  and  particular. 

They  first  poured  wine  into  a  large  earthen  vessel,* 
and  then  the  contracting  parties,  cutting  thfir  arms 
with  a  knife,  let  some  of  their  blood  run  into  the  u-'me, 
and  stained  likewise  theirarmour  therein;  after  which 
they  themselves,  and  all  that  were  present,  drank  of 
that  liquor,  uttering  the  heaviest  imprecations  against 
the  person  that  should  violate  the  treaty. 

But  what  the  same  historian  relates,*  concerning 
the  ceremonies  observed  at  the  funeral  of  (heir  kings, 
IB  still  more  extraordinary.  I  shall  only  mention  such 
of  tho«e  ceremonies,  as  may  serve  to  give  us  an  idea 
of  the  cruel  barbarity  of  this  people.  When  their 
king  die(f,  they  embalmed  his  body,  and  wrapped  it 
up  in  wnx  :  this  done,  they  put  it  into  an  open  chariot, 
and  carried  it  from  city  to  city,  exposing  it  to  the  view 
of  all  the  people  under  his  dominion.  When  this 
circuit  was  finished,  they  laid  the  body  down  in  the 
plai  e  appointed  for  the  burial  of  it,  and  there  they 
mad<-  a  large  grave,  in  which  they  interred  the  king, 
and  with  him  one  of  his  wives,  his  chief  cnp-bearer, 
his  "-rent  chamberlain,  his  master  of  horse,  his  chan- 
cellor, his  secretary  of  state,  who  were  all  put  to  death 
for  thit  purpose.  To  these  they  added  several  horses, 
a  grent  number  of  drinking  vessels,  and  a  certain  part 
of  all  the  furniture  b< longing  to  their  deceased  mon- 
arch: arter  which  they  filled  up  the  grave,  and  cover- 
ed it  with  earth.  This  was  not  all.  When  the  anni- 
versary of  his  interment  came,  they  cut  the  throats  of 
fifty  more  of  the  dead  kind's  officers,  and  of  the  same 
number  of  horses,  and,  having  first  prepared  their 
bodies  for  the  purpose,  by  emhowelling  them  and 
Stuffing  them  with  straw,  they  placed  the  officers  on 
horseback  round  the  king's  tomb,  probably  to  serve 
him  as  guards.  These  ceremonies  in  all  appearance 
took  their  rise  from  a  notion  they  might  have  of  their 
king's  hring  still  alive;  and  upon  this  supposition 
they  judgpd  it  necessary,  that  he  should  have  his  court 
and  ordinary  officers  still  about  him.  Whether  em- 
ployments, which  terminated  in  this  manner,  were 
much  sought  after,  I  will  not  determine. 

It  is  now  time  to  pass  to  the  consideration  of  their 
manners  and  customs,  milder  and  more  humane  ; 
though  possibly  in  another  sense  they  may  appear  to 
3e  equallv  wage.  The  account  I  am  going  to  give 
of  them  is  chiefly  taken  from  Justin.6  According  to 
this  author,  the  Scythians  lived  in  great  innocence 
and  simplicity.  They  were  ignorant  indeed  of  all 
arts  nn'l  sciences,  but  then  they  were  equallv  unac- 
quainted with  vice.  They  did  not  make  any  '^vision 
of  their  lands  amongst  themselves,  says  Justin:  it 
wouH  hnvp  been  in  vain  for  them  to  finve  done  it; 
since  they  did  not  apply  themselves  to  cultivate  them. 
Horace,  in  one  of  his  odes,  of  which  I  shall  insert  a 
part  by  an'!  by,  tells  us,  that  some  of  them  did  culti- 
vate a  cerlain  portion  of  land  allotted  to  them  for  one 
year  only,  nt  the  expiration  of  which  they  were  re- 
lievpi'  by  others,  who  succeeded  them  on  the  fame 
conditions.  They  had  no  houses,  nor  settled  habita- 
tion; but  wandered  continually  with  their  cattle  and 
Ihfir  fl.ifks  from  country  to  country.  Their  wives 
am!  c'lil  'ren  they  carried  along  with  them  in  waggons, 
covered  with  the  skins  of  beasts,  which  were  all  the 
Houses  they  had  to  dwell  in.  Justice7  was  observed 
•nd  nnintrrned  amongst  them  through  the  natural 
tamper  and  disposition  of  the  people,  and  not  by  any 


•  Plrab.  I.  rii.  p  <*V.  »  Rrrod.  1.  ir.  <v  R2. 

»  This  custom  wn«  mill  practised  hv  tho  Ihorinnn.  who 
were  ori?;  null  y  Srvihiann.  in  I  ho  time  of  Tacitus,  who  makei 
rtentinn  of  it.  Jin*  I.  xii.  p..  47. 

•  H-m,l  I   iv.  c.  70.  i  Ih.  c.  71,  72. 
«  Li!,,  ii   r.2 

luntitia  ffcntii  ingenii*  cuha,  non  legibu. 
Vu..   1.-30 


compulsion  oflaws,  with  which  they  were  wholly  un- 
acquainted. No  crime  was  more  severely  punished 
among  them  than  theft;  and  that  with  good  reason. 
F'or  their  herds  and  Hocks,  in  which  all  their  riches 
consisted,  being  never  shut  up,  how  could  they  pos- 
sibly subsist,  if  theft  had  not  been  most  rigorously 
punished?  They  coveted  neither  silver  nor  gold,  like 
the  rest  of  mankind;  and  made  milk  and  honey  their 
principal  diet.  They  were  strangers  to  the  use  of 
linen  or  woolen  manufactures;  and  to  deiind  them- 
selves from  the  violent  and  continued  cold  of  their 
climate,  they  made  use  of  nothing  but  the  skins  of 
beasts. 

I  said  before,  that  these  manners  of  the  Scythians 
might  appear  to  some  people  very  wild  and  savage. 
And  indeed,  what  can  be  said  for  a  nation  that  has 
lands,  and  yet  does  not  cultivate  them;  that  has  herds 
of  cattle,  of  which  they  content  themselves  with  eat- 
ing the  milk,  and  neglect  the  flesh?  The  wool  of 
their  sheep  might  supply  them  with  warm  and  com- 
fortable clothes,  and  yet  they  use  no  other  raiment 
than  the  skins  of  animals.  But  that  which  is  the 
greatest  demonstration  of  their  ignorance  and  savage- 
ries, according  to  the  general  opinion  of  mankind,  is 
their  utter  neglect  of  gold  and  silver,  which  have  al- 
ways been  had  in  such  great  request  in  all  civilized 
nations. 

But,  oh  !  how  happy  was  this  ignorance;  how  vast- 
ly preferable  this  savage  state  to  our  pretended  polite- 
ness! This  contempt  of  all  the  conveniences  of  life, 
says  Justin,*  was  attended  with  such  an  honesty  and 
uprightness  of  manners,  as  hindered  them  from  ever 
coveting  their  neighbours'  goods.  For  the  desire  of 
riches  can  only  take  place,  where  riches  can  be  made 
use  of.  And  would  to  God,  says  the  same  author, 
we  could  see  the  same  moderation  prevail  among  the 
rest  of  mankind,  and  the  like  indifference  to  the  goods 
of  other  people!  The  world  would  not  then  have 
seen  wars  perpetually  succeeding  one  another  in  all 
ages,  and  in  all  countries:  nor  would  the  number  of 
those  that  are  cut  off  by  the  sword,  exceed  that  of 
those  who  fall  by  the  irreversible  decree  and  law  of 
ature. 

Justin  finishes  his  character  of  the  Scythians  with 
_  very  judicious  reflection.  It  is  a  surprising  thing, 
says  he,9  that  a  happy  natural  disposition,  without 
the  assistance  of  education,  should  have  inspirid  the 
Scythians  with  such  a  wisdom  and  moderation,  as  the 
Grecians  could  not  attain  to,  neither  by  the  institu- 
tions of  their  legislators,  nor  the  rules  and  precepts  of 
all  their  philosophers;  and  that  the  manners  of  a  bar- 
barous nation  should  be  preferable  to  those  of  a  people 
so  much  improved  and  refined  by  the  polite  arts  and 
iciences.  So  much  more  happy  effects  were  produced 
by  the.  ignorance  of  vice  in  the  one,  than  by  the 
knowledge  of  virtue  in  the  other! 

The  Scythian  fathers  I0  thought  with  g^ood  reason 
that  they  left  their  children  a  valuable  inheritance, 
when  they  left  them  in  peace  and  union  with  one 
another.  "One  of  their  kings,  whose  name  was  Scy- 
lurus,  finding  himself  draw  near  his  end,  sent  for  all 
his  children,  and  giving  to  each  of  them  one  after 
another  a  bundle  of  arrows  tied  fast  together,  desired 
them  to  break  them.  Each  used  his  endeavours,  but 
was  not  able  to  do  it.  Then  untying  the  bundle,  and 
giving  them  the  arrows  one  by  one,  they  were  Teiy 
easily  broken. — Let  this  image,  says  the  father,  be  a 
lesson  to  you  of  the  mighty  advantage  that  results 
from  union  and  concord.  In  order  to  strengthen  and 
enlarge  these  domestic  advantages,"  the  Scythians 


•  HIT  continent  in  illis  mnrum  quoque  juslitiam  inilidit, 
nihil  alionum  concupiscent  il,u».  Quipjie  iliirirm  divitinrum 
rupirin  r»t,  ul>i  et  usuft.  Atipie  ulinnm  rrlii|ni«  irmrinlihuf 
similis  mmlrrntio  et  alistinom  in  alioni  forot  !  pnifrrtA  HOD 
tantum  Iwllorum  per  omnia  MTU  la  Irrris  omnibus  rnntimi*- 
rrtur  ;  neouo  plu*  hnmrnum  frrrum  et  arma,  ijunm  naiuralii 
falorum  c.onditio  rnpprct. 

Priir«ii«  nt  adminiliile  viilrntnr.  hoc  illis  naturnni  rlnra 
nurwl  fJra-ri  lonen  snpicntium  doctrina  prrcepiiiqo*  phllo 
snphornin  rnnncqui  ni'qncunt,  rultrwriue  morrB  inml:» 
h.irl,ari;r  c<illnt:une  *U|wrnri.  Tanid  plus  in  illis  proficit 
vn  ion, m  ipnorrnio.  quam  in  h"i  rognitio  virtutisl 

»•  PluU  de  <arrul.  p.  511.  ««  I  uci»n  in  Tex.  p.  51. 

v  2 


231 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


used  to  admit  their  friends  into  the  same  terms  of 
union  with  them  as  their  relations.  Friendship  was 
considered  by  them  as  a  sacred  and  inviolable  alli- 
ance, which  differed  but  little  from  that  which  nature 
has  put  between  brethren,  and  which  they  could  iK>t 
infringe  without  being  guilty  of  a  heinous  crime. 

Ancient  authors  seem  to  have  vied  with  each  other 
who  should  ino^  extol  the  innocence  of  manners,  that 
reigned  among  the  Scythians,  by  magnificent  enco- 
miums. That  of  Horace,  I  shall  transcribe  at  large. 
That  poet  does  not  ronSno  it  entirely  to  the  Scythi- 
ns,  but  joins  the  Getae  with  them,  who  were  their 
lear  neighbours.  It  is  in  that  beautiful  ode,  where 
ne  inveighs  against  the  luxury  and  irregularities  of 
the  age  in  which  he  lived.  After  having  told  us,  that 
peace  and  tranquillity  of  mind  is  not  to  be  procured 
either  by  immense  riches,  or  sumptuous  buildings,  he 
adds,  "  A  hundred  times  happier  are  the  Scythians,' 
who  roam  about  in  their  itinerant  houses,  their  wag- 
gons; and  hapjaier  even  are  the  frozen  Getse.  With 
them  the  eartn,  without  being  divided  by  land-marks, 
produceth  her  fruits,  which  are  gathered  in  common. 
There  each  man's  tillage  is  but  of  one  year's  contin- 
uance; and  when  that  term  of  his  labour  is  expired, 
he  is  relieved  by  a  successor,  who  takes  his  place, 
and  manures  the  ground  on  the  same  conditions. 
There  the  innocent  step-mothers  form  no  cruel  de- 
signs against  the  lives  of  their  husbands'  children  by 
a  former  wife.  The  wives  do  not  pretend  to  domi- 
neer over  their  husbands  on  account  of  iheir  fortunes, 
nor  are  to  be  corrupted  hy  the  insinuating  language 
of  spruce  adulterers.  The  greatest  portion  of  the 
maiden  is  her  father's  and  mother's  virtue,  her  invio- 
lable attachment  to  her  husband,  and  her  perfect  dis- 
regard of  all  other  men.  They  dare  not  he  unfaithful, 
because  they  are  convinced  that  infidelity  is  a  crime, 
and  its  reward  is  death." 

When  we  consider  the  manners  and  character  of 
the  Scythians  without  prejudice,  can  we  possibly  for- 
bear to  look  upon  them  with  esteem  and  admiration? 
Does  not  their  manner  of  living,  as  to  the  exterior 
part  of  it  at  least,  bear  a  great  resem'o'ance  to  that  of 
the  patriarchs,  who  had  no  fixed  habitation;  who  did 
not  till  the  ground ;  who  had  no  other  occupation  than 
that  of  feeding  their  flocks  and  herds;  and  who  dwelt 
in  tents?  Can  we  believe  this  people  were  much  to 
be  pitied,  for  not  understanding,  or  rather  for  despis- 
ing, the  use  of  gold  and  silver?  Is  it  not  to  be  wished 
that  those  metals  had  for  ever  lain  buried  in  the  bow- 
els of  the  earth.*  and  that  they  had  never  been  dug 
from  thence  to  become  the  causes  and  instruments  of 
almost  every  crime?  What  advantage  could  gold  or 
silver  be  of  to  the  Scythians,  who  valued  nothing  but 
what  the  necessities  of  men  actually  require,  and  who 
took  rare  to  set  narrow  bounds  to  those  necessities? 
It  is  no  wonder,  that,  living  as  they  did,  without  hou- 
ses, they  should  make  no  account  of  those  arts  that 
were  so  highly  valued  in  other  places,  as  architecture, 
sculpture,  and  painting;  or  that  they  should  despise 
fine  clothes  and  costly  furniture,  since  they  found  the 
skins  of  beast*  sufficient  to  defend  them  against  the 
im  leniency  of  the  seasons.  After  all,  can  we  truly 


«  CnmjK-Mre  mrliu«  Sovlhrp, 
Quorum  (ilnuxtra  vn-rm  rue  trahunt  domo*, 

Vivunt,  el  riiriHi  Getn-  ; 
Immr-iain  quihui  jujorn  liberal 

Fru»M  et  Orerem  fc-runt ! 
NIT  cultura  plni-f  t  \nns\nr  annua  ; 

ri'Tiinc.Mimque  labnriliu* 
^•imli  rcrn-st  »oriu  vicnrius. 

Illir  mnirc  mrentibus 
Privijn'n  mulier  temporal  innocent: 

N-r  il.itaia  reiMt  v**t,,t 
Ciinjiix,  ni":  nitidnnM't  t.lultero. 

Di»  cut  mama  imrentium 
Virtu*,  rt  nn'tui'nn  alteriui  viri. 

Orto  Credere  raatiun  : 
Et  pcrnnre  nefaj,  aul  prclium  c*t  mori. 

HOT.  Lib.  iii.  CM.  04. 
»  Aurum  irrrpertam.  ft  »ir  mnlii'm  situm 
Cum  terra  relal.  »pernert;  furtinr, 
Quam  roi'pri'  humanity  in  uout 
Omne  lacrum  raniante  <l<-*tra. 

HIT.  Lib.  iii.Od.  3. 


say,  that  these  pretended  advantages  contribute  to  the 
real  happiness  of  life?  Were  those  nations  that  had 
them  in  the  greatest  plenty,  more  healthful  or  robus! 
than  the  Scythians?  Did  they  live  to  a  greater  aga 
than  they?  Or  did  they  spend  their  lives  in  greater 
freedom  and  tranquillity,  or  a  greater  exemption  from 
cares  and  troubles?  Let  us  acknowledge,  to  the 
shame  of  ancient  philosophy;  the  Scythians,  who  did 
not  particularly  apply  themselves  to  the  study  of  wis- 
dom, carried  it  however  to  a  greater  height  in  their 
practice,  than  either  the  Egyptians,  Grecians,  or  any 
other  civilized  nation.  They  did  not  give  the  name 
of  goods  or  riches  to  any  thing,  but,  whai,  humanly 
speaking,  truly  deserved  that  title;  as  health,  strength, 
courage,  the  love  of  labour  and  liberty,  innocence  of 
life,  sincerity,  an  abhorrence  of  all  fraud  and  dissimu- 
lation, and,  in  a  word,  all  such  qualities  as  render  a 
man  more  virtuous  and  more  valuable.  If  to  these 
happy  dispositions,  we  could  add  the  knowledge  and 
love  of  the  true  God  and  of  our  Redeemer,  without 
which  the  most  exalted  virtues  are  of  no  value,  they 
would  have  been  a  perfect  people. 

When  we  compare  the  manners  of  the  Scythians 
with  those  of  the  present  age,  we  are  tempted  to  be- 
lieve, that  the  pencils  which  drew  so  beautiful  a  pic- 
ture, were  not  free  from  partiality  and  flattery;  and 
that  both  Justin  and  Horace  have  decked  them  with 
virtues  that  did  not  belong  to  them.  But  all  antiquity 
agrees  in  giving  the  same  testimony  of  them;  and 
Homer  in  particular,  whose  opinion  ought  to  be  of 
great  weight,  calls  them  the  most  just  and  upright 
of  men. 

But  at  length  (who  could  believe  it?)  luxury,  which 
might  be  thought  to  thrive  only  in  an  agreeable  and 
delightful  soil,  penetrated  into  this  rough  and  uncul- 
tivated region;  and  breaking  down  the  fences,  which 
the  constant  practice  of  several  ages,  founded  in  the 
nature  of  the  climate  and  the  genius  of  the  people,  had 
set  against  it,  did  at  last  effectually  corrupt  the  man- 
ners of  the  Scythians,  and  bring  them  in  that  respect, 
upon  a  level  with  the  other  nations,  where  it  had  long 
been  predominant.  It  is  Strabo,8  that  acquaints  us 
with  this  particular,  which  is  very  worthy  of  our  no- 
tice: he  lived  in  the  time  of  Augustus  and  Tiberius. 
After  hsviug  greatly  commended  the  simplicity,  fru- 
gality, and  innocence,  of  the  ancient  Scythians,  and 
their  extreme  aversion  to  all  deceit  and  dissimulation, 
he  owns,  that  their  intercourse  in  later  times  with 
other  nations,  had  extirpated  those  virtues,  and  plant- 
ed the  contrary  vices  in  their  stead.  One  would  think, 
sav«  he,  that  the  natural  effect  of  such  an  intercourse 
v.-ith  civilized  and  polite  nations,  would  only  have 
been  that  of  rendering  them  more  humanized  and 
courteous,  by  softening  that  air  of  savageness  and  fe- 
rocity, which  they  had  before:  hut,  instead  of  that,  it 
introduced  a  total  ruin  of  their  ancient  manners,  and 
transformed  them  into  quite  different  creatures.  It  is 
undoubtedly  with  reference  to  this  change  that  Athe- 
nreus  say?,*  the  Scvthians  abandoned  themselves  to 
voluptuousness  and  luxury,  at  the  same  time  thnt  they 
suffered  self-interest  and  avarice  to  prevail  amongst 
them. 

Strabo,  in  making  the  remark  I  have  been  mention- 
ing, does  not  deny,  but  tbat  it  was  to  the  Romans  and 
Grecians  this  fatal  change  of  manners  was  owing. 
Our  example,  says  he,  has  perverted  almost  all  the 
nations  of  the  world:  by  carrying  the  refinements  of 
luxury  and  pleasure  amongst  them,  we  have  taught 
them  in«incerify  and  fraud,  and  a  thousand  kinds  of 
.Sameful  and  infamous  arts  to  get  money.  It  i»  a 
miserable  talent,  and  n  very  unhappy  distinction  fora 
nation,  through  its  ingenuity  in  inventing  modes,  and 
refinins:  upon  every  thins:  that  tends  to  ncur'sh  and 
promote  luxury,  to  become  the  corrup'er  of  all  its 
neighbours,  nml  the  author,  as  it  were,  of  their  \\cet 
and  debauchery. 

It  was  against  these  Scythians,  but  at  a  time  wh*n 
they  were  yet  uncorrupted.and  in  their  utmost  vigour, 
that  Darius  turned  his  arms.  This  expedition  I  ai* 
now  going  to  relate. 


•  Lib.  rh.  p.  301. 


«  Lit),  xii.  p  £24. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


235 


SECTION   IV.— DARIUS'8  EXPEDITION  AGAINST 
THE   SCYTHIAiSS. 

I  HAVE  already  observed,1  that  the  pretence  used 
bv  Darius,  for  undertaking  this  war  against  the  Scy- 
thians, was  the  irruption  formerly  made  by  that  peo- 
ple into  Asia;  but  in  reality  he  had  no  other  end  than 
to  satisfy  his  own  ambition,  and  to  extend  his  con- 
quests. 

His  brother  Artahanes,  for  whom  he  had  a  great 
regard,  and  who,  on  his  side,  had  no  less  real  for  the 
true  interests  of  the  king  his  brother,  thought  it  hi* 
duty  on  this  occasion  to  speak  his  sentiments  with  all 
the  freedom  that  an  affair  of  such  importance  required. 
"  Great  prince,"  says  he  to  him,*  "  they  who  form  any 
great  enterprise,  ought  carefully  to  consider,  whether 
It  will  be  beneficial  or  prejudicial  to  the  state;  whe- 
ther the  execution  of  it  will  be  easy  or  difficult ;  whe- 
ther it  will  be  likely  to  augment  or  diminish  their 
gjory ;  and  lastly,  whether  the  thing  designed  be  con- 
sistent with,  or  contrary  to,  the  rules  of  justice.  For 
my  own  part,  I  cannot  perceive,  sir,  even  though  you 
were  sure  of  success,  what  advantage  you  can  propose 
to  yourself  in  undertaking  a  war  against  the  Scythi- 
ans. Consider  the  vast  distance  between  them  and 
you;  and  the  prodigious  space  of  land  and  sea  that 
separate*  them  from  your  dominions;  besides,  they 
are  a  people  that  dwell  in  wild  and  uncultivated  de- 
serts; that  have  neither  towns  nor  houses;  that  have 
no  fixed  settlement,  or  place  of  habitation;  and  that 
are.  destitute  of  all  manner  of  riches.  What  have 
your  troops  to  gain  from  such  an  expedition?  or,  to 
speak  more  properly,  what  have  they  not  rather  to 
lose? 

Accustomed  as  the  Scythians  are  to  remove  from 
country  to  country,  if  they  should  think  proper  to  fly 
before  you,  not  out  of  cowardice  or  fear,  for  they  are 
».  very  courageous  and  warlike  people,  but  only  with 
a  design  to  harass  and  ruin  your  arm}-  bv  continual 
and  fatiguing  marches;  what  will  become  of  us  in  such 
an  uncultivfited,  barren,  and  naked  country,  where 
we  shall  neither  find  forage  for  our  horses,  nor  provi- 
sion for  our  men?  lam  afraid,  sir,  that  through  a 
false  notion  of  glory,  and  the  insinuations  of  flatterers, 
you  may  be  hurried  into  H  war,  which  may  turn  to 
the  dishonour  of  the  nation.  You  now  enjoy  the 
sweets  of  peace  and  tranquillity  in  the  midst  of  your 
people,  where  you  are  the  object  of  their  admiration, 
and  the  author  of  their  happinrs«.  You  are  sensible 
the  srods  have  placed  you  upon  the  throne  to  be  their 
coadjutor,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  to  be  the  dis- 
penser of  their  bounty,  rather  than  the  minister  of 
their  power.  You  pride  yourself  upon  being  the  pro- 
tector, the  sruardian,  and"  the  father  of  your  subjects: 
and  you  often  declare  to  us,  because  you  really  be- 
lieve so,  that  you  look  upon  yourself  as  invested  with 
sovereign  power,  only  tc  make  your  people  happy. 
What  exquisite  joy  mu«t  it  be  to  so  ereat  a  prince  as 
you  are,  to  be  the  source  of  so  many  blessings:  and 
under  the  shadow  of  your  name  to  preserve  such  infi- 
nite numbers  of  people  in  so  desirable  a  tranquillity! 
Is  not  the  eflnry  of  a  kin?  who  loves  his  subjects,  and 
is  beloved  by  them;  who,  instead  of  waging  war 
against  neighbouring  or  distant  nation*,  makes  use  of 
his  power  to  keep  them  in  p^ace  and  amity  with  each 
Otht-r;  is  not  such  a  srlory  infinitely  preferable  to  that 
of  ravaarinz  and  spoiling  a  countrv.  of  filling  the  earth 
with  slaughter  and  desolalion,  with  horror,  conster- 
nation, and  despair?  Rut  there  is  one  motive  more, 
which  ousrM  to  have  a  greater  influence  upon  you 
than  all  others;  I  mean  that  of  justice.  Thanks  to 
the  gods,  you  are  not  of  the  number  of  those  princes, 
who  acknowledge  no  other  law  than  that  of  force,' 
and  who  imagine  that  they  hare  a  peculiar  privilege 
annexed  to  their  dignity,  which  private  persons  have 

t  Herod.  1.  ir.  c.  P3— 9f>. 

*  (Jmnc«  qiii  mnennrnm  r^rum  rnn«il'n  anwipiunt  mtj- 
marc  ilotit>nt,  an  qimH  inr'<nalur,  ri'ipulilirir  util<\  ip«i«  rln- 
riorum.  Rut  vmmp'um  effectu,  aut  cerli  nnn  arduum  sit. 

7»<ri'  rnti.  I  ii.  Tfi. 

»  lil  in  *umma  fortnna  ipquiu*.  qnoH  »»lidiu«  :  et  »o»  n- 
tinore  privitip  Homu<:  de  alirnii  certare,  regiara  laudem 
t»se.  Tacit,  .limnl.  1.  KT.  c.  1. 


not,  of  invading  other  men't  properties.  You  rio  not 
make  your  greatness  consist  in  being  able  to  do  what- 
ever you  will,*  but  in  willing  onty  what  may  be  dona 
without  infringing  the  laws,  or  violating  justice.  To 
speak  plain,  shall  one  man  be  reckoned  unjust,  and  a 
robber,  for  seizing  on  a  few  acres  of  his  neighbour's 
estate;  and  shall  another  be  reckoned  just  and  great, 
and  have  the  title  of  hero,  because  he  seizes  upon  and 
usurps  whole  provinces?  Permit  me  sir,  to  ask  you, 
what  title  have  you  to  Scythia?  What  injury  have 
the  Scythians  done  you?  "What  reason  can  you  al 
lege  for  declaring  war  against  them?  The  war,  in} 
deed,  in  which  you  have  been  engaged  against  the 
Babylonians,  was  at  the  same  time  both  just  and  ne- 
cessary; the  gods  have  accordingly  crowned  your 
arms  with  success.  It  belongs  to  you,  sir,  to  judge, 
whether  that  which  you  are  now  going  to  undertake, 
be  of  the  same  nature." 

Nothing  but  the  generous  zeal  of  a  brother,  truly 
concerned  for  the  glory  of  his  prince  and  the  good  of 
his  country,  could  inspire  such  a  freedom:  as,  on  the 
other  hand,  nothing  but  a  perfect  moderation  in  the 
prince  could  make  him  capable  of  bearing  with  it. 
Darius,5  as  Tacitus  observes  of  another  great  empe- 
ror, had  the  art  of  reconciling  two  things  which  are 
generally  incompatible,  the  sovereignty  and  liberty. 
Far  from  being  offended  at  the  freedom  used  by  hi* 
brother,  he  thanked  him  for  his  good  advice,  though 
he  Jid  not  follow  it:  for  he  had  taken  his  resolution. 
He.  departed  from  Susa  at  the  head  of  an  army  of 
700,000  inen ;  and  his  fleet,  consisting  of  600  ships, 
was  chiefly  manned  with  lonians,  and  other  Grecian 
nations  that  dwelt  upon  the  sea-coasts  of  Asia  Minor 
and  the  Hellespont.  He  marched  his  army  towards 
the  Thracian  Bosphorus,  which  he  passed  upon  • 
bridge  of  boats:  after  which,  having  made  himself 
master  of  all  Thrace,  he  came  to  the  banks  of  the 
Danube  otherwise  called  the  Ister,  where  he  had  or- 
dered his  fleet  to  join  him.  In  several  places  on  his 
march  he  caused  pillars  to  be  erected  with  magnifi- 
cent inscriptions,  in  one  of  which  he  suffered  himself 
to  be  called,  the  he*t  and  hanJtnmtst  of  all  men  liv- 
ing. What  v«r.'-»v  \  what  a  littleness  of  soul  was 
this! 

And  yet  if  this  prince's  faults  had  terminated  only 
in  sentiments  of  pride  and  vanity,  perhaps  they  would 
appear  more  excusable  than  they  do,  at  least  _they 
would  not  have  been  so  pernicious  to  his  subjects. 
But  how  shall  we  reconcile  Darius's  disposition,' 
which  seemed  to  be  so  exceedingly  humane  and  gen- 
tle, with  his  barbarous  and  cruel  behaviour  towards 
Oehazus,  a  venerable  old  man.  whose  merit  as  well  as 
quality,  entitled  him  to  respect?  This  nobleman  had 
three  sons,  who  were  all  preparing  themselves  to 
attend  the  kinsr  in  this  expedition  against  the  Scy- 
thians. Upon  Darius's  departure  from  Susa,  the  good 
old  father  begged  as  a  favour  of  him,  that  he  would 
please  to  leave  hint  one  of  his  sons  at  home,  to  be  a 
comfort  to  him  in  his  old  age.  One,  replied  Darius, 
trill  not  tie  sufficient  fur  yoii;  I  trill  leave  you  all  iht 
three:  and  immediately  he  caused  them  all  to  be  put 
to  death. 

When  the  army  had  pa«sed  the  Danube  upon  a 
bridg-e  of  boats.7  the  king  was  for  having  the  bridge 
broken  down,  that  his  army  might  not  be  weakened 
by  leaving  so  considerable  a  detachment  of  his  troops 
as  was  necessary  to  guard  it.  But  one  of  his  officers 
represented  to  him,  thnt  it  might  be  proper  to  keep 
that,  as  a  necessary  resource,  in  case  the  war  with  the 
Scythians  should  prove  unfortunate.  The  king  ac- 
quiesced, and  committed  the  guarding:  of  the  bridge 
to  the  care  of  the  lonians,  who  built  it;  giving  them 
leave,  at  the  same  time,  to  go  back  to  their  own  coun- 
trv. if  he  did  not  return  in  the  space  of  two  months: 
he  then  proceeded  on  his  march  to  Scythia. 

As  soon  as  the  Scythians  were  informed   that  Da- 


«  Vl  felicltntii  e»t  quantum  vrli«  pon*.  "<•  magniludinii 
Tellp  l"n""im  pnwis.     P&*  '"  P"1lffyr-  Traj. 

•  NVrvn  Cawar  rr.  olim  Hinwvmhilrn  mi.«cuit,  principatom 
et  lihortatcm.     TVial.  in  vit.  Jlgrie.  cap.  iii. 

•  Herod.  I.  iv.  r.  P-4.     Senec.  de  Ira,  c.  16 
'  Herod.  1.  i».  e.  99, 101. 


23G 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


rrus  wa«  marching  against  them,1  they  immediately 
entered  into  consultation  upon  the  measures  necessa- 
ry to  bf.  taken.  They  were  very  sensible,  that  they 
were  not  in  a  condition  to  resist  by  themselves  so  for- 
midable an  enemy.  They  applied  therefore  to  all  the 
neighbouring  nations,  and  desired  their  assistance, 
allegins:,  that  the  danger  was  general,  and  concerned 
them  all,  and  that  it  was  their  common  interest  to 
oppose  an  enemy,  whose  views  of  conquest  were  not 
confined  to  one  nation.  Some  returned  favourable 
answers  to  their  demand  ;  others  absolutely  refused  to 
enter  into  a  war  which,  they  said,  did  not  regard  them ; 
but  they  had  soon  reason  to  repent  their  refusal. 

One  wise  precaution  taken  by  the.  Scythians.*  was 
to  place  their  wives  and  children  in  safety,  by  sending 
them  in  carriages  to  the  most  northern  parts  of  the 
country;  and  with  them  likewise  they  sent  all  their 
herds  and  flocks,  reserving  nothing  to  themselves  but 
what  was  necessary  for  the  support  of  their  army. 
Another  precaution  of  theirs  was  to  fill  up  all  their 
wells  and  stop  up  their  springs,  and  to  consume  all 
Ihe  forage  in  those  parts  through  which  the  Persian 
army  was  to  pass.  This  done,  they  marched,  in  con- 
junction with  their  allies,  against"  their  enemy,  not 
with  a  view  of  giving  him  battle,  for  they  were'deter- 
(nined  to  avoid  that,  but  to  draw  him  into  such  places 
«s  suited  be-t  their  interest.  Whenever  the  Persians 
teemed  disposed  to  attack  them,  they  still  retired  far- 
ther up  into  the  country;  and  thereby  drew  them  on, 
from  place  to  place,  into  the  territories  of  those  na- 
tions that  had  refused  to  enter  into  alliance  with  them, 
whose  lands  became  a  prey  to  the  two  armies  of  the 
Persians  and  Scythians. 

Darius,3  weary  of  these  tedious  and  fatiguing  pur- 
suits, sent  a  herald  to  the  king  of  the  Scythians, 
whose  name  was  Indathyrsus,  with  this  message  in 
his  name: — "  Prince  of  the  Scythians,  wherefore  dost 
thou  continually  fly  before  me?  Why  dost  thou  not 
stop  somewhere  or  other,  either  to  give  me  battle,  if 
thou  believest  thyself  able  to  encounter  me,  or,  if  thou 
thinkest  thyself  too  weak,  to  acknowledge  thy  mas- 
ter, by  presenting  him  with  earth  and  water?"  The 
Scythians  were  a  high-spirited  -«"•>•>!«•  extremely 

jealous  of  their  liberty,  and  proie3j,.,. .-.-  to  all 

slavery.  Indathyrsus  sent  Darius  the  following  an- 
swer:— "Iff  fly  before  thee,  prince  of  the  Persians, 
it  is  not  because  I  fear  thee:  what  I  do  now,  is  no 
more  than  what  I  am  used  to  do  in  time  of  peace. 
We  Scythians  have  neither  cities  nor  lands  to  defend : 
If  thou  hast  a  mind  to  force  us  to  come  to  an  engage- 
ment, come  and  attack  the  tombs  of  our  fathers,  and 
thou  shalt  find  what  manner  of  men  we  are.  As  to  the 
title  of  master  which  thou  assumest,  keep  it  for  other 
nations  than  the  Assyrians.  For  mv  part,  I  acknow- 
ledge no  other  master  than  the  g:reat  Jupiter,  one  of 
my  own  ancestor*,  and  the  goddess  Vesta." 

The  farther  Darius  advanced  into  the  country/  the 
greater  hardships  his  army  was  exposed  to.  Just 
when  it  was  reduced  to  the  la«t  extremity,  there  came 
a  heral.l  from  the  Scvthian  prince,  who  was  commis- 
sioned to  present  to  Darius  a  bird,  a  mouse,  a  frog, 
and  five  arrows.  The  king  desired  to  know  the 
nulling  of  those  gifts.  The  messenger  answered, 
that  his  orders  were  only  to  deliver  them,  and  nothing 
more;  and  that  it  was  left  to  the  Persian  kin?  to  find 
out  the  meaning.  Dnrius  concluded  at  first,  that  the 
Scythiins  thereby  consented  to  deliver  up  the  earth 
and  water  to  him.  which  were  represented  by  'he 
mouse  and  frog;  a«  also  their  cavalry,  whose  swift- 
ness was  represented  by  the  bird;  tog-ether  wfth  their 
own  persons  and  arms,"  signified  by  the  arrows.  But 
Gobryas,  one  of  the  seven  lords  that  had  deposed  the 
Maarian  impostor,  expounded  the  enigma  In  the  fol- 
lowing  manner:  "  Know."  sayg  he  to  the  Persians, 
"that  unless  you  can  fly  in  the  air  like  birds,  or  hide 
yourselves  in  the  f-arth  like  mice,  or  dive  under  the 
water  like  froc«,  you  shall  in  no  wise  be  able  to  avoid 
the  arrows  of  the  Scythians." 

And.*  indeed,  the  whole  Persian   army,  marchin" 


•  Horn.!.  I   iv.  c.  102.  118,  119.  *  Tb.  c.  1-Jt .  125. 

•  fh  r.  12<>,  1-27.  «  Ib.  c.  128   132. 

•  Btrabo,  I   vii.  p.  305.  I.  x»i.  p.  737 


in  a  vast,  uncultivated,  and  Darren  country,  complete- 
ly destitute  of  water,  was  reduced  to  so  deplorable  • 
condition,  that  they  had  nothing  before  their  eye*  but 
inevitable  ruin;  nor  was  Darius  himself  exempt  from 
the  common  danger.  He  owed  his  preservation  to  a 
camel,  which  was  loaded  with  water,  and  followed 
him  with  great  difficulty  through  that  wild  and  desert 
country.  The  king  afterwards  did  not  forget  this 
benefactor;  to  reward  him  for  the  service  he  had  done 
him,  and  the  fatigues  he  had  undergone,  on  his  return 
to  Asia  he  settled  a  certain  district  of  his  own  upon 
him  for  his  peculiar  use  and  subsistence,  for  which 
reason  the  place  was  called  Gaugamela,  that  is,  in 
the  Persian  tongue,  the  Camels  habitation.  It  was 
near  the  same  place  that  Darius  Codomanus  received 
a  second  overthrow  by  Alexander  the  Great. 

Darius  deliberated  no  longer,6  finding  himself  under 
an  absolute  necessity  of  quitting  his  rash  enterprise. 
He  began  then  to  think  in  earnest  of  returning  home; 
and  saw  but  too  plainly,  that  there  was  no  time  to  be 
lost.  As  soon  therefore  as  night  came,  the  Persians, 
to  deceive  the  enemy,  lighted  a  great  number  of  tires, 
as  usual;  and  leaving  the  old  men  and  the  sick  behind 
them  in  the  camp  together  with  all  their  asses,  which 
made  a  sufficient  noise,  they  set  out  upon  their  march, 
in  order  to  reach  the  Danube.  The  Scythians  did  not 
perceive  they  were  gone  till  the  next  morning;  where- 
upon they  immediately  senta  considerable  detachment 
to  the  Danube:  this  detachment  being  perfectly  well 
acquainted  with  the  roads  of  the  country,  arrived  at 
the  bridge  a  great  while  before  the  Persians.  The 
Scythians  had  sent  expresses  beforehand  to  persuade 
the  Ionian;  to  break  the  bridge,  and  to  return  to  their 
own  country;  and  the  latter  had  promised  to  do  it,  but 
without  designing  to  execute  their  promise.  The  Scy- 
thians now  pressed  them  to  it  more  earnestly,  and 
represented  to  them,  that  the  time  prescribed  by  Da- 
rius for  staying  there  was  elapsed;  that  they  were  at 
liberty  to  return  home,  without  either  violating  their 
word  or  their  duty;  that  they  now  had  it  in  their 
power  to  throw  oft  for  ever  the  yoke  of  their  subjec- 
tion, and  make  themselves  a  happy  and  free  people; 
and  that  the  Scythians  would  render  Darius  incapable 
of  forming  any  more  enterprises  against  any  of  his 
neighbours. 

The  lonians  entered  into  consultation  upon  the 
affair.  Miltiades  the  Athenian,  who  was  prince,  or 
as  the  Greeks  call  it,  tyrant,  of  the  Chersonesus  of 
Thrace,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hellespont,  was  one  of 
those  that  accompanied  Darius,  and  furnished  him 
with  ships  for  his  enterprise  Having  the  public  inter- 
est more  at  heart  than  his  private  advantage,"  he  was 
of  opinion  that  they  should  comply  with  the  request 
of  the  Scythian*  and  embrace  so  favourable  an  oppor- 
tunity of  recovering  the  liberty  of  Ionia;  all  the  other 
commanders  acquiesced  in  nis  sentiments,  except 
Hystiaeus,  the  tyrant  of  Miletus.  When  it  came  to  his 
turn  to  speak,  he  represented  to  the  Ionian  generals, 
that  their  fortune  was  linked  with  that  of  Darius;  that 
it  was  under  that  prince's  pmtection  that  each  of  thorn 
was  master  in  his  own  city;  and  if  the  power  of  the 
Persians  should  sink  or  decline,  the  cities  of  Ionia 
would  not  fail  to  depose  their  tyrants  and  recover 
their  freedom.  All  the  other  chiefs  were  influenced 
by  his  opinion;  and,  as  is  usual  in  most  cases,  the 
consideration  of  private  interest  prevailed  over  the 
public  good.  They  resolved  therefore  to  wait  for 
Darius;  but  in  order  to  deceive  the  Scythians,  and 
hinder  them  from  undertaking  any  thing,  they  declared 
to  them  that  they  had  resolved  to  retire,  pursuant  to 
their  request;  and,  the  better  to  drry  on  the  fraud, 
they  actually  beyan  to  break  one  end  "of  the  bridge, 
exhorting  the  Scythians  at  the  same  time  to  do  their 
part,  to  return  speedily  back  to  meet  the,  common 
enemy,  to  attack  and  defeat  them.  The  Scythians 
bein<<  too  credulous,  retired,  and  were  deceived  a  se- 
cond time. 

They  missed   Darius,'  who  had  taken  a  different 


«  Herod.  I.  iv.  r.  134,  140. 

i  Amirior  omnium  libertati  quar*  IUB  dominttionl  full 
Corn.  JVrp. 
•  Herod.  1.  iv.  c.  HI,  144 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


23" 


•oulr  from  that  in  which  they  expected  to  come  up 
with  him.  He  nrrived  by  night  at  the  bridge  over  the 
Danube,  and,  finding  it  broken  down,  he  no  longer 
doubted  but  the  Ionian*  were  gone,  and  that  conse- 
quently he  should  be  ruined.  He  made  his  people 
call  out  with  a  loud  voice  for  Hystiseus,  the  Mile.«i»n, 
who  at  last  answered,  and  put  the  king  out  of  his 
anxiety.  They  entire! v  repaired  the  bridge;  so  that 
Darius  repassed  the  Danube,  and  came  back  into 
Thrace.  1  here  he  left  Megabytus,  one  of  his  chief 
generals,  with  part  of  his  army,  to  complete  the  con- 
quest of  '.hat  country,  and  entirely  reduce  it  to  his 
obedience.  After  which  he  repassed  the  Bosphorus 
with  the  rest  of  his  troops,  and  went  to  Sardis,  where 
He  spent  the  winter  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  year 
following,  in  order  to  refresh  his  army  which  had"suf- 
fered  extremely  in  that  ill-concerted  and  unfortunate 
expedition. 

Megabyziis  continued  some  time  in  Thrace;1  whose 
Inhabitants,  according  to  Herodotus,  would  have  been 
invincible,  had  they  had  the  discretion  to  unite  their 
forces,  and  to  choose  one  chief  commander.  Some  of 
them  had  very  particular  customs.  In  one  of  their  dis- 
tricts, when  a  child  came  into  the  world,  all  the  rela- 
tions expressed  great  sorrow  and  affliction,  bitterly 
weeping  at  the  prospect  of  the  misery  which  the  new- 
born infant  had  to  experience.  While  on  the  other 
hand,  on  the  death  of  any  of  their  family,  they  al!  re- 
joiced because  they  looked  upon  the  deceased  person 
as  happy  only  from  that  moment  wherein  he  was  de-  | 
livered  for  ever  from  the  troubles  and  calamities  of  | 
this  life.  In  another  district,  where  polygamy  was  in 
fashion,  when  a  husband  died,  it  was  a  great  dispute 
among  his  wives  which  of  them  was  best  beloved. 
She  in  whose  favour  the  contest  was  decided,  had  the 
privilege  of  being  sacrificed  bv  her  nearest  relation 
upon  the  tomb  of  her  husband,  and  of  being  buried 
with  him:  whilst  all  the  other  wives  envied  her  hap- 
piness and  thought  themselves  in  some  sort  dishon- 
oured. 

Darius,*  on  his  return  to  Sardis,  after  his  unhappy 
expedition  against  the  Scythians,  having  learned  for 
certain  that  he  owed  both  his  own  safety  and  that  of 
hia  whole  army  to  Hvstiaeus.  who  had  persuaded  the 
lonians  not  to  destroy  the  bridge  on  the  Danube,  sent 
for  that  prince  to  his  court,  and  desired  him  freely  to 
ask  any  favour  in  recompense  of  his  service.  Hvsti- 
aeus hereupon  desired  the  king  to  give  him  Mircina 
of  Edonia,  a  territory  upon  the  river  Strymon  "in 
Thrace,  together  with  the  liberty  of  building  a  citv 
there.  His  request  was  readily  granted;  and  he  re- 
turned to  Miletus,  where  he  caused  a  fleet  of  ships  to 
be  equipped,  and  then  set  out  for  Thrace.  Having 
taken  possession  of  the  territory  granted  him,  he  im- 
mediately set  about  the  execution  of  his  project  in 
building  a  citv. 

Meirahyziis,8  who  was  then  governor  of  Thrace  for 
Darius,  immediately  perceived  how  prejudicial  that 
undertaking  would  he  to  the  kinsr's  affairs  in  those 
quarters.  He  considered,  that  this  new  city  stood 
upon  a  navigable  river:  that  the  country  round  about 
it  abounded  in  timber  fit  for  building  of  ships;  that  it 
was  inhabited  by  different  nations,  both  Greeks  and 
Barbarians,  who  were  able  to  furnish  great  numbers 
of  men  for  land  and  sea  service;  that,  if  once  those 
people  were  under  the  guidance  of  a  leader  so  skilful 
and  enterprising  as  Hystineus.  they  mi-rht  become  so 
powerful  both  by  sea  and  land,  that  it  would  be  no 
longer  possible  for  the  king  to  keep  them  in  subjec- 
tion ;  especially  considering  that  they  had  a  great  many 
gold  and  silver  mines  in  that  country,  which  would 
enable  them  to  carry  on  any  project  they  might  think 
fit  to  form.  At  his  return  to  S  irdis,  he  represented 
all  these  things  to  the  king,  vno  was  convinced  by 
his  reasons,  and  therefore  sen  for  Hystiseus  to  come 
to  h  Ai  at  Sardis,  pretend msr  to  have  some  great  de- 
signs in  view,  wherein  *•«  wanted  the  assistance  of 
his  counsel.  When  h^  '/tad  brought  him  to  his  court 
by  this  means,  he  '\rried  him  to  Susa,  making  him 
believe  that  he  set  an  extraordinary  value  upon  a 


•  H»r.d.  1.  T.C.  1. 

•  Ibid.  r..  23.  35. 


•  Ibid.  e.  11.  33. 


friend  of  such  fidelity  and  understanding;  Iwo  quail- 
fications  that  rendered  him  very  dear  to  him,  and  of 
which  he  had  given  such  memorable  proofs  in  the 
Scythian  expedition;  giving  him  to  understand,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  should  be  able  to  find  something  for 
him  in  Persia  which  would  muke  him  ample  amtndi 
for  all  that  he  could  leave  behind  him.  Hystiajus, 
pleased  with  so  honourable  a  distinction,  and  finding 
himself  likewise  under  a  necessity  of  complying,  ac- 
companied Darius  to  Susa,  and  left  ArUtagoras  to 
govern  Miletus  in  his  room. 

Whilst  Megahyzus  was  still  in  Thrace,*  he  sent 
several  Persian  noblemen  to  Amyntas,  king  of  Mace- 
donia, to  require  him  to  give  earth  and  water  to  Darius 
his  master:  this  WHS  the  usual  form  of  one  prince's 
submitting  to  another.  Amyntas  readily  complied 
with  that  request,  and  paid  all  imaginable  honours  to 
the  envoys.  Towards  the  end  of  an  entertainment 
which  he  made  for  them,  they  desired  that  the  ladiet 
might  be  brought  in,  which  was  a  thing  contrary  to 
the  custom  of  the  country:  however  the  king  would 
not  venture  to  refuse  them.  The  Persian  noblemen 
being  heated  with  wine,  and  thinking  they  might  use 
the  same  freedom  as  in  their  own  country,  did  not  ob- 
serve a  due  decorum  towards  those  princesses.  The 
king's  son,  whose  name  was  Alexander,  could  not  see 
his  mother  and  sisters  treated  in  such  a  manner,  with- 
out great  resentment  and  indignation.  Wherefore 
upon  some  pretence  or  other,  he  contrived  to  send  the 
ladies  out  of  the  room,  as  if  they  were  to  return  again 
presently,  and  had  the  precaution  to  get  the  king,  hit 
father,  also  out  of  the  company.  In  this  interval  he 
caused  some  young  men  to  be  dressed  like  women, 
and  to  be  armed  with  poinards  under  their  garments. 
These  pretended  ladies  came  into  the  room  instead  of 
the  other?;  and  when  the  Persians  began  to  treat  them 
as  they  had  before  treated  the  princesses,  they  drew 
out  their  poinards,  fell  violently  upon  them,  *ml  killed, 
not  only  the  noblemen,  but  every  one  of  their  attend- 
ants. The  news  of  this  slaughter  soon  reached  Susa, 
and  the  king  appointed  commissioners  to  take  cogni- 
zance of  the  matter;  but  Alexander  by  the  power  of 
bribes  and  presents,  stilled  the  affair  so  that  nothing 
came  of  it. 

The  Scythians,*  to  be  revenged  of  Darius  for  in- 
vading their  country,  passed  the  Danube,  and  ravaged 
all  the  part  of  Thrace  that  had  submitted  to  the  Per- 
sians as  far  as  the  Hellespont.  Miltiades  to  avoid  their 
fury. abandoned  the  Chersonesus;  but  after  the  enemy 
retired,  he  returned  thither  again,  and  was  restored 
to  the  same  power  he  had  before  over  the  inhabitants 
of  the  country. 

SECTION   V.— DARIUS'S   CONQUEST  OF  INDIA. 

ABOUT   the  same  time,  that  is, 
in  the  thirteenth  year  of  Darius]*  A.  M.  3496 

reign,  this  prince  having  an  ambi-  Ant.  J.  C.  508. 
tion  to  extend  his  dominion  east- 
wards, first  resolved,  in  order  to  facilitate  his  con- 
quests, to  get  a  proper  knowledge  of  the  country.  To 
this  end,'  he  caused  a  fleet  to  be  built  and  fitted  out 
at  Caspatyra,  a  city  upon  the  Indus,  and  did  the  same 
at  several  other  places  on  the  same  river,  as  far  as  the 
frontiers  of  Srytnia.7  The  command  of  this  Met  t  was 
given  to  Scylax,*  a  Grecian  of  Caryandia,  a  town  of 
Caria,  who  was  perfectly  well  versed  in  maritime 
affairs.  His  orders  were  to  sail  down  that  river,  and 
get  all  the  know-ledge  he  possibly  could  of  the  country 
on  both  sides,  quite  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
to  pass  from  thence  into  the  Southern  Ocean,  and  to 
steer  his  course  afterwards  to  the  west,  and  so  return 
back  that  way  to  Persia.  Scylax,  having  exactly 
observed  his  instructions,  and  sailed  quite  down  the 
river  Indus,  entered  the  Red  Sea  by  the  straits  of  Ba- 
belmandel;  and  after  a  voyage  of  thirty  months  from 
the  time  of  his  setting  out  from  Caspatyra,  he  arrived 


•  Hprod.  1.  v.  c.  17,  21.  •  Ibid  1    vi.  c.  40. 

•  Ibid.  I.  iv.  r.  44.  '  A«ianr  Srythia  is  meant. 

•  Thore  H  a  gpocrsphiral  treatiw  entitled  il. ..».;«,  and 
eomponod  by  one  Srylax  of  Caryandia.  who  it  Ihoueht  to  h« 
the  same  periwn  cpoken  of  in  this  plare.     P  it  that  opinion  it 
attended  with  rom*  difficulties,  which  ba\  J  given  ornatioai 
to  many  learned  dissertation!. 


23S 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


in  K°:ypt,  at  the  same  port  from  whence  Necho,1  king 
of  Egypt,  had  formerly  sent  the  Phoenicians,  who  were 
in  hi*  service,  with  orders  to  sail  round  the  coasts  of 
Africa.  Very  probably  this  was  the  same  port  xvfuTe 
now  stands  the  town  of  Sue?.,  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
Red  Sea.  From  thence  Srylax  returned  to  Susa, 
where  he  pave  Darius  an  account  of  all  his  discoveries. 
Darius  afterwards  entered  India  with  an  army,  and 
subjected  all  that  vast  countrv.  The  reader  will  na- 
turally expert  to  be  informed  of  the  particular*  of  so 
important  a  war.  But  Herodotus  says  not  one  word 
about  it:  he  only  tells  us,  that  India  made  the  twen- 
tieth province,^  or  government,  of  the  Persian  empire, 
and  tnat  the  annual  revenue  accruing  from  hence  to 
Darius  was  360  talents  of  gold,  which  amount  to  near 
11,000,000  livres,  French  money,  something  less  than 
500.000L  sterling. 

SECTION  VI. — THE  REVOLT  OF  THE  IONIANS. 

DARIUS,3  after  his  return  to  Su- 
A.  M.  3500.     sa  from    his  Scythian    expedition, 
Ant.  J.  C.  504.     had  given  his  brother  Artaphernes 
the  government  of  Sardis,  and  made 
Otaneg  commander  in   Thrace,  and  the  adjacent  coun- 
tries along  the  sea-coast  in  the  room  of  Megabyzns. 

From  a  small  spark/  kindled  by  a  sedition  at  Nax- 
us,  a  "Teat  flame  arose,  which  gave  occasion  to  a  con- 
siderable war.  Naxus  was  the  most  important  island 
of  the  Cyc.lades  in  the  .flSgeafi  sea,  now  called  the 
Archipelago.  In  this  sedition  the  principal  inhabitants 
having  been  overpowered  by  the  populace,  who  were 
the  greater  number,  many  of  the  richest  families  were 
banished  out  of  the  island.  Hereupon  they  fled  to 
Miletus,  and  implored  the  assistance  of  Aristagoras,  to 
reinstate  them  in  their  native  place.  He  was  at  that 
time  governor  of  that  city,  as  lieutenant  to  Hystiaeus, 
to  whom  he  was  both  nephew  and  son-in-law,  and 
whom  Darius  had  carried  along  with  him  to  Susa. 
Aristagorm  promised  to  give  these  exiles  the  assist- 
ance they  desired. 

But  not  being  powerful  enough  himself  to  execute 
what  he  had  promised,  he  went  to  Sardis,  and  com- 
municated the  affair  to  Artaphernes.  He  represented 
to  him  that  this  was  a  very  favourable  opportunity  for 
reducing  Naxus  under  the  power  of  Darius;  that  if 
he  were,  once  master  of  that  island  all  the  rest  of  the 
Cyclades  would  fall  of  themselves  into  his  hands,  one 
after  another;  that  in  consequence  the  isle  of  ^ubosa 
(now  Negropont,)  which  was  as  large  as  Cyprus,  and 
lay  very  near  them,  would  be  easily  conquered,  which 
would  give  the  king  a  free  passage  into  Greece,  and 
the  means  of  subjecting  all  that  country;  and,  in 
short,  that  100  ships  would  be  sufficient  for  the  effec- 
tual execution  of  this  enterprise.  Artaphernes  was 
so  pleased  with  the  project,  that  instead  of  TOO  ves- 
sels, which  Aristagoras  required,  he  promised  htm 
200,  in  case  he  obtained  the  king's  consent  to  the  ex- 
pedition. 

The  kins:,  charmed  with  the  mighty  hopes  with 
which  he  was  flattered,  very  readily  approved  the  en- 
terprise, thousrh  founded  only  upon  injustice  and  a 
boundless  ambition,  as  also  upon  perfidiousness  on  the 
part  of  Aristagoras  and  Artaphernes.  No  considera- 
tion rave  him  a  moment's  pause.  The  most  injurious 
rroject  is  formed  and  accepted  without  the  le'ast  re- 
liictnnce  or  scruple:  motives  of  advantage  and  con- 
venience soMy  determine.  The  isle  lies  convenient 
for  the  Persians;  this  is  conceived  a  sufficient  title, 
and  a  warrantable  ground  to  reduce  it  by  force  of 
arms.  And,  indeed,  most  of  the  other  expeditions  of 
this  prince  had  no  better  principle. 

As  soon  as  Artapherneg  had  obtained  the  king's 
con«ent  (o  this  project,  he  made  the  necessary  prepa- 
rations for  executing  it.  The  better  to  conceal  his 
design,  and  to  surprise  the  people  of  Naxus.  he  spread 
a  report  that  his  fleet  was  going  towards  the  Helles- 
pont; and  the  spring  following  he  sent  the  number  of 
ihip«  he  had  promised  to  Miletus  under  the  command 
of  Mrjabates  a  Persian  nobleman  of  the  royal  family 
of  Achaemenes!.  But  being  directed  in  his  commission 


i  Herid.l.lv.  e  42. 
•  Lib   r.  c.  35 


»  Ibid.  1.  iii.  c.  94. 
*  Ibid.  c.  28,  34. 


to  obey  the  orders  of  Aristagoras,  the  high  spirited 
Persian  could  not  bear  to  be  under  the  command  of  an 
Ionian,  especially  one  who  treated  him  in  a  haughty 
and  imperious  manner.  This  pique  occasioned  a 
breach  between  the  two  generals,  which  rose  so  high, 
that  Megabates,  to  be  revenged  of  Aristagoras,  gave 
the  Naxians  secret  intelligence  of  the  design  formed 
against  them.  Upon  wh>ch  they  made  such  prepara- 
tions for  their  defence,  that  the  'Persians,  after  having 
spent  four  months  in  besieging  the  capital  of  the  is- 
land, and  consumed  all  their  provisions,  were  obliged 
to  retire. 

The  project  having  thus  miscarried,5  Megabateg 
threw  ail  the  blame  upon  Aristagoras,  and  entirely 
ruined  his  credit  with  Artaphernes.  The  Ionian  in- 
stantly foresaw  that  this  accident  would  be  attended 
not  only  with  the  loss  of  his  government,  but  with 
his  utter  ruin.  The  desperate  situation  to  which  he 
was  reduced,  made  him  think  of  revolting  from  the 
king,  as  the  only  expedient  whereby  he  could  possibly 
save  himself.  No  sooner  had  he  formed  this  design, 
than  a  messenger  came  to  him  from  Hystiasus,  who 
gave  him  the  same  counsel.  Hystiasus,  who  had  now 
been  some  years  at  the  Persian  court,  being  disgusted 
with  the  manners  of  that  nation,  and  having  an  ardent 
desire  to  return  to  his  own  country,  thought  this  the 
most  likely  means  of  accomplishing  his  wish,  and 
therefore  gave  Aristagoras  that  counsel.  He  flattered 
himself,  that  in  case  any  troubles  arose  in  Ionia,  he 
could  prevail  with  Darius  to  send  him  thither  to  ap 
pease  them;  and,  in  fact,  the  thing  happened  accord- 
ing to  his  expectation.  As  soon  as  Aristagoras  found 
his  design  seconded  by  the  orders  of  Hystiaeus,  he 
imparted  them  to  the  principal  persons  of  Ionia,  whom 
he  found  extremely  well  disposed  to  enter  into  his 
views.  He  therefore  deliberated  no  longer,  but  being 
determined  to  revolt,  applied  himself  wholly  in  making 
preparations  for  it. 

The  people  of  Tyre,  having  been 
reduced  to  slavery  when  thf-ir  city  A.  M.  3502 

was  taken  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  had  Ant.  J.  C.  502. 
groaned  under  that  oppression  for 
the  space  of  seventy  years.  But  after  the  expiration 
of  that  term,  they  were  restored,  according  to  Isaiah'g 
prophecy,*  to  the  possession  of  their  ancient  privi- 
leges, with  the  liberty  of  having  a  king  of  their  own; 
which  liberty  they  enjoyed  till  the  time  of  Alexander 
the  Great.  It  seems  probable,  that  this  favour  wa» 
granted  them  by  Darius,  in  consideration  of  the  set - 
vices  he  expected  to  receive  from  that  city  (which  was 
so  powerful  by  sea)  in  reducing^  the  lonians  to  their 
ancient  subjection.  This  was  the  nineteenth  year  of 
Darius's  reign. 

The  next  year,  Aristagoras,7  in  order  to  engage  the 
lonians  to  adhere  the  more  closely  to  him,  reinstated 
them  in  their  liberty,  and  in  all  their  former  privile- 
ges. He  began  with  Miletus,  where  he  divested  him- 
self of  his  power,  and  resigned  it  into  the  hands  of  the 
people.  He  then  made  a  journey  through  all  Ionia, 
where,  by  his  example,  his  influence  and  perhaps  by 
the  fe;ir  that  they  would  be  forced  to  it  whether  they 
would  or  no,  he  prevailed  upon  all  the  other  tyrants 
to  do  the  same  in  every  city.  They  complied  the  more 
readilv,  as  the  Persian  power,  since  the  check  it  re- 
ceiveJ  in  Scythia,  was  the  less  able  to  protect  them 
against  the  lonians,  who  were  naturally  fond  of  liber- 
ty, and  a  state  of  independence,  and  professed  enemies 
to  all  tyranny.  Having  united  them  all  in  this  man- 
ner in  one  common  league,  of  which  he  himself  wag 
declared  the  head,  he  set  up  the  standard  of  rebellion 
against  the  king,  and  made  great  preparations  by  sea 
and  land  for  supporting  a  war  against  him. 

To  enable  himself  to  carry  on  the  war  with  more 
vigour,*  Aristagoras  went  in  thp  beginning  of  the  fol- 
lowing year  to  Lacedaemon,  in  order  to  bring  that  city 
into  his  interest,  and  engage  »t  to  furnish  him  with 
succours.  Cleomenes  was  at  this  time  king  of  Sparta. 


•  Herod.  I.  v.  c.  35,  36. 

*  And  it  r\i»\\  come  to  pass  after  the  end  of  seventy  year*. 
tJi.it  tin'  Lord  will  visit  Tyre,  and  >he  shall  turn  to  her  hirs 
Isa    txiii.  17.) 

'  Herod.  1.  y.  c.  37,  38.  •  Ib.  c.  38.  41.  49.  51. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


239 


He  wa«  the  ton  of  Anaxandrides  by  a  second  wife, 
whom  the  Ephori  had  obliged  him  to  marry,  because 
be  had  no  issue  by  the  first.  He  had  by  her  three  sons 
besides  Cleomenes,  namely  Dorioeus,  Leonidas  and 
Cleombrotus,  the  two  last  of  which  ascended  the 
throne  of  Laredaemon  in  their  turns.  Aristagoras  then 
addressed  himself  to  Cleomenes,  and  the  time  and 
place  for  an  interview  between  them  being  agreed  on, 
he  waited  upon  him  and  represented  to  him,  that  the 
lonians  and  Lacedaemonians  were  countrymen;  that 
Sparta  being  the  most  powerful  city  of  Greece,  it 
would  be  fur  her  honour  lo  concur  with  him  in  the 
design  he  had  formed  of  restoring  the  lonians  to  their 
liberty;  that  the  Persians,  their  common  enemy,  were 
not  a  warlike  people,  but  extremely  rich,  and  conse- 
quently would  become  an  easy  prey  to  the  Lacedae- 
monians; that  considering  the  present  spirit  and  dis- 
position of  the  lonians,  it  would  not  be  difficult  for 
them  to  carry  their  victorious  arms  even  to  Susa,  the 
metropolis  of  the  Persian  empire,  and  the  place  of  the 
king's  residence;  he  showed  him  at  the  same  time,  a 
plan  of  all  the  nations  and  towns  through  which  they 
were  to  pass,  engraven  upon  a  little  plate  of  brass 
which  he  had  brought  along  with  him.  Cleomenes 
desired  three  days  time  to  consider  of  his  proposals. 
That  term  being  expired,  he  asked  the  Ionian  how  far 
it  was  from  the  Ionian  sea  to  Susa,  and  how  much 
time  it  required  to  go  from  the  one  place  to  the  other. 
Aristrtgoras,  without  considering  the  effect  his  answer 
was  likely  to  have  upon  Cleomenes,  told  him,  that 
from  Ionia  to  Susa  was  about  three  months' journey.1 
Cleomenes  was  so  amazed  at  this  proposal,  that  he 
immediately  ordered  him  to  depart  Irom  Sparta  before 
iun-M-t.  Aristagoras  nevertheless  followed  him  home 
to  his  house,  and  endeavoured  to  win  him  bv  argu- 
ments of  another  sort,  that  is  by  presents.  T*he  brst 
sum  he  offered  him  was  only  ten  talents,  which  were 
,  equivalent  to  30,000  livres  of  French  money;  that 
being  refused,  he  still  rose  in  his  offers,  till  at  Jast  he 
proposed  to  give  him  fifty  tal*  nts.  Gorgo,  a  daugh- 
ter of  Cleomenes,  about  eight  or  nine  years  of  age, 
whom  her  father  had  not  ordered  to  quit  the  room,  as 
apprehending  nothing  from  so  young  a  child,  hearing; 
the  proposals  that  were  made,  cried  out:  Fly, father, 
Ay  this  stranger  will  corrupt  you.  Cleomenes 
laughed,  but  yet  observed  the  child's  admonition, and 
actually  retired:  Aristagoras  left  Sparta. 

From  thence  he  proceeded  to  Athens,*  where  he 
found  a  more  favourable  reception.  He  had  the  good 
fortune  to  arrive  there  at  a  time  when  the  Athenians 
were  extremely  well  disposed  to  hearken  to  any  pro- 
posals that  could  be  made  to  them  against  the  Per- 
sians, with  whom  they  were  highly  offended  on  the 
following  occasion.  Hippias,3  the  ;on  of  Pisistratus, 
tyrint  of  Athens,  who,  about  ten  years  before,  had 
been  banished,  after  having  tried  in  vain  abundance 
of  methods  for  his  re-establishment,  at  last  went  to 
Sardis  and  made  his  application  to  Artaphernes.  He 
insinuated  himsclfso  far  into  the  good  opinion  of  that 
governor,  that  he  gave  a  favourable  ear  to  all  he  said 
to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Athenians,  and  became 
extremely  prejudiced  against  them.  The  Athenians, 
having  intelligence  of  this,  sent  an  ambassador  to 
Sardis,  and  desired  of  Artaphernes,  not  to  give  ear  to 
what  any  of  their  outlaws  should  insinuate  to  their 
oisadvantage.  The  answer  of  Artaphernes  to  this 
tties<;i_:e  was,  that,  if  they  desired  to  live  in  peace, 
they  must  recall  Hippias.  When  this  haughty  answer 
was  brought  back  to  the  Athenians,  the  whole  city 
weie  violently  enraged  against  the  Persians.  Arista- 
goras, coming  thither  just  at  this  juncture,  easily 

«  [TTie  actual  a»<rrepnte  distance  between  3ardi«  and  Sum, 
or  Bus,  (not  the  modern  Tostar.)  taken  throuzh  the  puints 
of  Issus  nnd  Mosul,  is  1,1 'JO  German  miles,  or  1.2  '5  British 
miles  ;  which,  divided  by  14  mile*  a  day,  for  the  mean  rate 
of  military  marcher,  will  produce  92$  days — exactly  answer- 
ing the  ihrpe  months  mentioned  by  Arigtaforas  in  the  text. 
If  to  this  distance  be  added — that,  from  Ephesus  to  Sardis. 
amounting  to  21  parasan^s  or  63  Roman  miles,  equal  to  IK) 
British,  then  the  whole  a^grp»ate  distance  will  be  1,355 
Brit  Hi  miles  and  95  divs  march.] 

»  Herod.  1.  v.  c.  55.  96,  97. 

•  T*»i»  fact  haj  been  before  treated  at  large  in  thu  ToL 


obtained  all  he  desired.  Herodotus*  remarks  on  thil 
occasion,  how  much  easier  ;:  's  to  impose  upon  a  mul 
titude,  than  upon  a  single  person:  and  so  Aristagoras 
found  it;  for  he  prevailed  with  30,000  Athenians  to 
come  to  a  resolution,  into  which  he  could  not  per- 
suade Cleomenes  alone.  They  engaged  immediate- 
ly to  furnish  twenty  ships  to  assist  him  in  his  design; 
and  it  may  be  truly  said,  that  this  little  Meet  was 
the  original  source  of  all  the  calamities,  in  which 
both  the  Persians  and  Grecians  were  afterwards  in- 
volved. 

In  the  third  year  of  this  war,  the 

lonians,  having  collected  all  their  A.  M.  3604. 

forces  together,  and  being  rein-  Ant.  '.  C.  500. 
forced  with  the  twenty  vessels  fur- 
nished by  the  city  of  Athens,  and  five  more  from  Ere- 
tria,  in  the  island  of  Eubtea,  set  sail  for  Kphesus,  and 
leaving  their  ships  there,  they  marched  by  land  to  the 
city  of  Sardis:  finding  the  place  in  a  defenceless  con- 
dition, they  soon  made  themselves  masters  of  it;  but 
the  citadel,  into  which  Artaphernes  retired,  they  were 
not  able  to  force.  As  most  of  the  houses  01  this  city 
were  built  with  reeds,  and  consequently  were  very 
combustible,  an  Ionian  soldier  having  set  lire  to  one 
house,  the  flames  soon  spread  and  communicated  to 
the  rest,  and  reduced  the  whole  city  to  ashes.  Upon 
this  accident  the  Persians  and  Lydians,  assembling 
their  forces  together  for  their  defence,  the  lonians 
judged  it  was  time  for  them  to  think  of  retreating; 
and  accordingly  they  marched  back  with  all  possible 
diligence,  in  order  to  re-embark  at  Kphesus:  but  the 
Persians  arriving  there  almost  as  soon  as  they,  attack- 
ed them  vigorously,  and  destroyed  a  great  number 
of  their  men.  The  Athenians,  after  the  return  of  their 
ships,  would  never  engage  any  more  in  this  war,  not- 
withstanding the  urgent  solicitations  of  Ari«tagoras. 

Darius  being  informed  of  the  burning  of  Sardis,8 
and  of  the  part  the  Athenians  took  in  that  affair,  he 
resolved  from  that  very  time  to  make  war  upon 
Greece:  and  that  he  might  never  forget  this  resolu- 
tion, he  commanded  one  of  his  officers  to  cry  out  to 
him  with  a  loud  voice  every  night,  when  he  was  at 
supper:  Sir,  remember  the 'Athenians.  In  the  burn- 
ing of  Sardis  it  happened  that  the  temple  of  Cvbele, 
the  goddess  of  that  country,  was  consumed  with  the 
rest  of  the  city.  This  accident  served  afterwards  as 
a  pretence  to  the  Persians  to  burn  all  the  temples 
they  found  in  Greece:  to  which  they  were  likewise 
induced  by  a  religious  motive  which  I  have  explained 
before. 

As  Aristagoras,8  the  head  man- 
ager of  this  revolt,  was  Hystiaeus's  A.  M.  3505. 
lieutenant  at  Miletus,  Darius  sus-  Ant.  J.  C.  499. 
pected  that  the  latter  might  proba- 
bly be  the  contriver  of  the  whole  conspiracy  :  for 
wfiich  reason  he  entered  into  «  free  conference  with 
him  upon  the  subject,  and  acquainted  him  with  hii 
thoughts,  and  the  just  grounds  he  had  for  his  suspi- 
cion. Hystiasus,  who  was  a  crafty  courtier,  and  an 
expert  master  in  the  art  of  dissembling,  appeared  ex- 
tremely surprised  and  afflicted  ;  and  speaking  in  a  tone 
that  at  once  expressed  both  sorrow  and  indignation, 
"Is  it  then  possible,  sir,"  said  he  to  the  king,  "for 
your  majesty  to  have  entertained  so  injurious  a  suspi- 
cion of  the  most  faithful  and  most  affectionate  of  your 
servants  ?  I  concerned  in  a  rebellion  against  yon  . 
Alas!  what  is  there  in  the  world  that  could  tempt  ma 
to  it?  Do  I  want  anything  here?  Am  I  not  already 
raised  to  one  of  the  highest  stations  in  your  court; 
And  besides  the  honour  I  have  of  assisting  at  your 
rownnls,  do  I  not  daily  receive  new  proofs  of  your 
bounty,  by  the  numberless  favours  you  heap  upon 
me  ?"  After  this  he  insinuated,  that  the  revolt  in 
Ionia  proceeded  from  his  absence  and  distance  from 
the  country;  that  they  had  waited  for  that  opportuni- 
ty to  rebel;  that  if  he  had  stayed  at  Miletus,  the  con- 
spiracy would  nevtr  have  been  formed;  that  the 
surest  "way  to  restore  the  king's  affairs  in  that  pro- 
vince, would  be  to  send  him  thither  to  quell  the  in- 
surrection; that  he  promised  him,  on  the  forfeiture  ot 


«  Herod.  I.  v.  c.  90.  103. 
i  Ibid.  c.  105. 


•  Ibid.  c.  105.  107. 


240 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Lit  head  to  deliver  Aristagoras  into  his  hands;  and 
engaged,  besides  all  this,  to  make  the  large  island  of 
Sardinia  tributary  to  him.'  The  best  princes  are  of- 
ten too  credulous;  and  when  they  have  once  taken  a 
subject  into  their  confidence,  it  is  with  difficulty  they 
withdraw  it  from  him;  nor  do  they  easily  undeceive 
themselves.  Darius,  imposed  upon  by  the  air  of  sin- 
cerity with  which  Hystireus  spoke  on  this  occasion, 
believed  him  on  his  own  word,  and  gave  him  leave 
to  retuin  to  Ionia,  on  condition  he  came  back  to  the 
Persian  court  as  soon  as  he  had  executed  what  he 
promised. 

The  revolters,8  in  the  meantime, 
A.  M.  3506.     though  deserted  by  the  Athenians, 

Ant.  J.  C.  493.  and  notwithstanding  the  considera- 
ble check  they  had  received  in  Io- 
nia, did  not  lose  courage,  but  still  pushed  on  their 
point  with  resolution.  Their  fleet  set  sail  towards  the 
Hellespont  and  the  Propontis,  and  reduced  Byzanti- 
um, with  the  greater  part  of  the  other  Grecian  cities, 
in  that  quarter.  After  which, as  they  were  returning 
hack  again,  they  obliged  the  Carians  to  join  with 
them  in  this  war,  as  also  the  people  of  Cyprus.  The 
Persian  generals,  having  divided  iheir  forces  among 
themselves,  marched  three  different  ways  against  the 
rebels,  and  defeated  them  in  several  encounters,  in 
one  of  which  Aristagoras  was  slain. 

When  Hystiaeus  was  arrived  at  Sardis,8  his  in- 
triguing temper  induced  him  to  form  a  plot  against  the 
government,  into  which  he  drew  a  great  number  of 
Persians.  But,  perceiving  by  some  discourse  he  had 
with  Artaphernes,  that  the  part  he  had  had  in  the  re- 
volt of  Ionia  was  not  unknown  to  that  governor,  he 
thought  it  not  safe  for  him  to  stay  any  longer  at  Sar- 
dis, and  retired  secretly  the  night  following  to  the  isle 
of  Chios;  from  thence  he  sent  a  trusty  messenger  to 
Sardis,  with  letters  for  such  of  the  Persians  as  he  had 
gained  to  his  party.  This  messenger  betrayed  him, 
and  delivered  his  letters  to  Artaphernes,  by  which 
means  the  whole  plot  was  discovered,  all  his  accom- 
plice? put  to  deatn,  and  his  project  utterly  defeated. 
Hut  still  imagining,  that  he  could  bring  about  some 
enterprise  of  importance,  if  he  were  once  at  the  head 
pf  the  Ionian  league,  he  made  several  attempts  to  get 
into  Miletus,  and  to  be  admitted  into  the  confederacy 
by  the  citizens:  but  none  of  his  endeavours  succeed- 
ed, and  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  Chios. 

There  *  being  asked  why  he  had  so  strongly  urged 
Aristagoras  to  revolt,  and  by  that  means  involved 
Ionia  in  such  calamities,  he  made  answer,  that  it  was 
because  the  king  had  resolved  to  transport  the  lonians 
into  Phoenicia,  and  to  plant  the  Phoenicians  in  Ionia. 
But  all  this  was  a  mere  story  and  fiction  of  his  own 
inventing,  Darius  having  never  conceived  any  such 
design.  The  artifice  however  served  his  purpose  ex- 
tremely well,  not  only  for  justifying  him  to  the  lo- 
ni:ms,  but  also  for  engaging  them  to  prosecute  the  war 
with  vigour.  For  being  alarmed  at  the  thoughts  of 
this  transmigration,  they  came  to  a  firm  resolution  to 
defend  themselves  against  the  Persians  to  the  last  ex- 
tremity. 

Artaphernes   and    Otanes,5  with 
A.  M.  3507.     the    rest  of  the  Persian    generals. 

Ant.  J.  C.  497.  finding  that  Miletus  was  the  centre 
of  the  Ionian  confederacy,  resolved 
to  march  thither  with  all  their  forces;  concluding 
that,  if  they  could  carry  that  city,  all  the  rest  would 
submit  of  course.  The  lonians,  having  intelligence 
of  their  design,  determined  in  a  general  assembly  to 
send  no  army  into  the  field,  but  to  fortify  Miletu«. 
and  to  furnish  it  to  the  utmost  of  their  power  with 
provision?,  and  all  things  necessary  for  enduring  a 
tiege;  and  to  unite  all  their  forces  to  engage  the  Per- 
sian* at  sea,  their  dexterity  in  maritime  affairs  induc- 
ing them  to  believe  that  they  should  have  the  advan- 
tage in  a  naval  battle.  The  'place  of  their  rendezvous 


i  Thi.«  island  is  very  remote  from  Ionia,  and  eouM  have 
no  relation  to  it.  I  am  therefore  apt  to  believe,  it  mint  be 
»n  nrror  Ihnt  bn*  crept  into  the  text  of  Herodotu*. 

t  KrrwI.  I.  v.  c.  103,  104.  108.  122. 

•  Ibid,  vi.  f..  1—5.  4  Ibid.  c.  3. 

•  Ibid.  c.  6—10.  31.  33. 


was  Lade,  a  small  isle  over  against  Miletus,  wherg 
they  assembled  a  fleet  of  353  vessels.  At  thu  sight  o. 
this  fleet,  the  Persians,  though  stronger  by  one  half 
with  respect  to  the  number  of  their  ship?,  were  afraid 
to  hazard  a  battle,  till  by  their  emissaries  they  had  se- 
cretly corrupted  the  greatest  part  of  the  confederates, 
and  engaged  them  to  desert:  so  that  when  the  two 
fleets  came  to  engage,  the  ships  of  Samos,  of  Lesbos, 
and  several  other  places,  sailed  off,  and  returned  to 
their  own  country,  and  the  remaining  fleet  of  the  con- 
federa.tes  did  not  consist  of  above  100  vessels,  which 
were  all  quickly  overpowered  by  numbers,  and  almost 
entirely  destroyed,  After  this,  the  city  of  Miletus 
was  besieged,  afid  became  a  prey  to  the  conquerors 
who  utterly  destroyed  it.  This  happened  six  years 
after  Aristagoras's  revolt.  All  the  other  cities,  as  well 
on  the  continent  as  on  the  sea  coast  and  in  the  i*les, 
returned  to  their  duty  soon  after,  either  voluntarily  or 
by  force.  Those  persons  that  stood  out  were  treated 
as  they  had  been  threatened  beforehand.  The  hand- 
somest of  the  young  men  were  chosen  to  serve  in  the 
king's  palace;  and  the  young  women  were  all  sent 
into  Persia;  the  cities  and  temples  were  reduced  to 
ashes.  These  were  the  effecls  of  the  revolt,  into 
which  the  people  were  drawn  by  the  ambitious  views 
of  Aristagoras  and  Hystiasus. 

The  latter  of  these  two  had  his  share  also  in  the 
general  calamity:6  for  that  same  year  he  was  taken 
by  the  Persians,  and  carried  to  Sardis,  where  Arta- 
phernes caused  him  to  be  immediately  hanged,  with- 
out consulting  Darius,  lest  that 'prince's  affection  for 
Hystioeus  should  incline  him  to  panlon  him,  and  by 
that  means  a  dangerous  enemy  should  be  left  alive 
who  might  create  the  Persians  new  troubles.  It  ap- 
peared by  the  sequel,  that  Artaphernes's  conjecture 
was  well  grounded:  for  when  Hystiaeus's  head  was 
brought  to  Darius,  he  expressed  great  dissatisfaction 
at  the  authors  of  his  death,  and  caused  the  head  to  be 
honourably  interred,  as  being  the  remains  of  a  person 
to  whom  he  had  infinite  obligations,  the  remembrance 
whereof  was  too  deeply  engraven  on  his  mind,  ever 
to  be  effaced  by  the  greatness  of  any  crimes  he  had 
afterwards  committed.  Hystiaeus  was  one  of  those 
restless,  bold,  and  enterprising  spirits,  in  whom  manj 
good  qualities  are  joinerl  with  still  greater  vices;  \vitii 
whom  all  means  are  lawful  and  good,  that  promote 
the  end  they  have  in  view;  who  look  npcn  justice 
probity,  and  sincerity,  as  mere  empty  name*:  wht 
make  no  scruple  to  employ  lying  or  fraud,  treacher? 
or  even  perjury,  when  it  is  to  serve  their  turn;  and 
who  reckon  the  ruin  of  nations,  or  even  their  own 
country,  as  nothing,  if  necessary  to  their  own  eleva 
tion.  His  end  was  worthy  his  sentiments,  and  s;ick 
as  is  common  enough  to  these  irreligious  politicians 
who  sacrifice  every  thing  to  their  ambition,  and  ac 
knowledge  no  other  rule  of  their  actions,  and  hardlj 
any  other  God,  than  their  interest  and  fortune. 

SECTION   VII.— THE   EXPEDITION  OF   DARIUS'.* 
ARMY    AGAINST  GREECE. 

DARIUS,7    in    the  twenty-eighth 
year  of  his  reign,  having  recalled  A.M.  3">10 

all  his  other  generals,  sent  Mardo-  Ant.  J.  C.  494. 
nius  the  son  of  Gobrvas,  a  young 
lord  of  an  illustrious  Persian  family,  who  had  lately 
married  one  of  the  kind's  daughters,  to  command  in 
chief  throughout  all  the  maritime  parts  of  Asia,  with 
a  particular  order  to  invade  Greece,  and  to  revenge 
the  burning  of  Sardis  upon  the  Athenians  and  Kre 
triani.  The  king  did  not  show  much  wisdom  in  this 
choice,  by  which  he  preferred  a  young  man,  becaus* 
he  was  a  favourite,  to  all  his  oldest  and  most  experi. 
enced  generals;  especially  in  so  difficult  n  war,  the 
success  of  which  he  had  very  much  at  heart,  and 
wherein  the  glory  of  his  reign  was  infinitely  concern 
ed.  His  being  son-in-law  to  the  kin?  was  a  quality 
indeed,  that  might  augment  his  influence,  but  added 
nothing  to  his  real  merit,  or  hi?  capacity  as  a  general 

Upon  his  arrival  in  Macedonia,  into  which  he  had 
marched  with  his  land  forces  after  having  passed 
through  Thrace,  the  whole  country,  terrified  by  hi* 


•  Herod.  1.  vi.  c.  89,  30. 


»  Ibid,  e  43,  45 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


241 


power,  mibra  tted.  But  his  fleet  attempting  to  dou- 
ble mount  Alhos  'now  called  Capo  Santo,)  in  order 
t»  ^aiii  the  coasts  of  Macedonia,  was  attacked  by  so 
violent  a  storm,  that  upwards  of  300  ships,  with  above 
20,000  UK  n,  perished  in  the  sea.  Hi<  land  army  met 
at  the  same  time  with  no  less  fatal  a  blow.  For,  being 
encamped  in  a  place  of  no  security,  the  Thracians 
attacked  the  Persian  camp  by  night,  made  a  great 
slaughter,  and  wounded  Mardonius  .himself.  All  this 
ill  success  obliged  him  shortly  after  to  return  into 
Asia,  with  grief  and  confusion  at  his  having  miscarri- 
ed both  by  sea  and  land  in  this  expedition. 

Darius  perceiving,  too  late,  that  Mardonius's  youth 
and  inexperience  had  occasioned  the  defeat  of  his 
troops,  recalled  him,  and  put  two  other  generals  in  his 
place,  I>;tti-,  a  Mede,  and  Artaphernes,  son  of  his 
brother  Artaphernes,  who  had  been  governor  of  Sar- 
dis. The  king's  thoughts  were  earnestly  bent  upon 
putting  in  execution  the  great  design  he  had  long  had 
in  his  mind,  which  «•»«,  to  attack  Greece  with  all  his 
forces,  and  particularly  to  take  a  signal  vengeance 
on  the  people  of  Athens  and  Kretria,  whose  enterprise 
against  Sardis  was  perpetually  in  his  thoughts. 

I.  The  State  of  Athens.  The  characters  tf  Miltia- 
des, Themistnchs,  and  Aristides. 

Before  we  enter  upon  this  war,  it  will  be  proper  to 
refresh  our  memories  with  a  view  of  the  state  of 
Athens  at  this  time,  which  alone  sustained  the  first 
•hock  of  the  Persians  at  Marathon;  as  also  to  form 
some  idea  beforehand  of  the  great  men  who  shared  in 
that  celebrated  victory. 

Athen«,  just  delivered  from  that  yoke  of  servitude 
which  she  had  been  forced  to  bear  for  above  thirty 
years,  under  the  tyranny  of  Pisistratus  and  his  chil- 
dren, now  peaceably  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  lib- 
erty, the  sweetness  and  value  of  which  were  only 
heightened  and  improved  by  that  short  privation. 
Laceda?mon,  which  was  at  this  time  the  mistr«  ><•  of 
Greece,  and  had  contributed  at  first  to  this  happy- 
change  in  Athen«,  seemed  afterwards  to  repent  of  her 
good  offices:  and  growing  jealous  of  the  tranquillity 
the  herself  had  procured  for  her  neighbours,  she  at- 
tempted to  disturb  it,  by  endeavouring  to  reinstate 
Hippias,  the  snn  of  PisWtratus,  in  the  government  of 
Athens.  But  all  her  attempts  were  fruitless,  and 
served  onlv  ID  manifest  her  ill  will,  and  her  grief  to 
gee  Athens  determined  to  maintain  its  independence 
even  of  Sparta  itself.  Hippias  hereupon  had  recourse 
to  the  Persians.  Artaphernes,  governor  of  Sardis, 
tent  the  Athenians  word,  as  we  have  already  men- 
tioned, that  they  must  re-establish  Hippias  in  his  au- 
thority, unless  they  cho*e  rather  to  draw  the  whole 
po\ver  of  Darius  upon  them.  This  second  attempt 
succeeded  no  better  than  the  first,  and  Hippias  was 
obliged  to  wait  for  a  more  favourable  juncture.  We 
•hall  see  presently  that  he  served  as  a  conductor  or 
guide  to  the  Persian  generals  sent  by  Darius  against 
Greece. 

Athens,  from  the  time  of  the  re:overy  of  her  lib- 
«rtv,  was  quite  another  city  than  under  her  tyrants, 
tnd  displayed  a  very  different  kind  of  spirit.  Among 
ihe  citizen*.'  Miltiades  distinguished  himself  most  in 
.he  v  ar  with  the  Persian*,  which  we  are  going  to  re- 
'.tr.  H<>  wa*  the  son  of  Cimon,  an  illustrious  Athe- 
i  & .  This  Cimon  had  a  half-brother  bv  the  mother's 
,i'.e  who«e  name  was  likewise  Miltiades,  of  a  very 
indent  and  noble  family  in  ..Egina,  who  had  lately 
oee.i  received  into  tlte  number  of  the  Athenian  citf- 
*eni.  He  was  a  per*on  of  great  credit  even  in  the  time 
of  Pi-i<tratu«:  but,  as  he  could  not  endure  the  yoke 
of  a  despotic  government,  he  joyfully  embraced"  the 
offer  made  him,  of  going  to  settle  with  a  colony  in  the 
Thracian  Cbersonesus,  whither  he  was  invited  by  the 
Dolonci,  the  inhabitants  of  that  country,  to  be  their 
kinsr,  or,  according  to  the  language  of  those  times, 
their  tyrant.  He,  dying  without  children,  left  the 
•n\rrei<rnty-to  Stesajorss,  his  nephew,  the  eldest  son 
of  his  brother  Cimon;  and  Stesagoras  dying  also 
without  issue,  the  son»  of  Pisistratus,  who  then  ruled 
the  city  of  Athens,  sent  his  brother  Miltiades,  the  per- 

•  Hrrod.  I.  vi.  e  34.  41.    Corn.  Ncp.  in  Mil.  cap.  i— ill. 
VOL.  I.— 31 


son  we  are  now  (peaking  of,  into  thst  country  to  b» 
his  successor.  He  arrived  there,  and  established  him- 
self in  the  government  in  the  same  ysar  that  Dariu* 
undertook  his  expedition  against  the  Scythians.  H* 
attended  that  prince  with  some  ships  as  far  as  th» 
Danube  ;  and  it  was  he  who  advised  the  Ionian?  to 
destroy  the  bridge,  and  to  return  home  without  wait- 
ing for  Darius.  During  his  residence  in  the  Cherso- 
nesus,  he  married  Hegesipvla,*  daughter  of  Olorus,  a 
Thracian  king  in  the  neighbourhood,  by  whom  he  had 
Cimon.the  famous  Athenian  general,  ol  whom  a  great 
deal  will  be  said  in  the  sequel.  Miltiades,  having  for 
several  reasons  abdicated  his  government  in  Thrace, 
embarked,  and  took  all  that  he  had  on  board  five  ships, 
and  set  sail  for  Athens.  There  he  settled  a  second 
time,  and  acquired  great  reputation. 

At  the  same  time  two  other  citizens,*  younger  than 
Miltiades,  began  to  distinguish  themselves  at  Athen*, 
namely,  Aristides  and  Themistocles.  Plutarch  ob- 
serves, that  the  former  of  these  two  had  endeavoured 
to  form  himself  upon  the  model  of  ClUthenes,  one  of 
the  greatest  men  of  his  time,  and  a  zealous  defender 
of  liberty,  who  had  greatly  contributed  to  the  resto- 
ring it  at  Athens,  by  expelling  the  Pi»Utratidae«out 
of  that  city.  It  was  an  excellent  custom  among  the 
ancients,  and  which  it  were  to  be  wished  might  pre- 
vail amongst  us,  that  the  young  men  ambitious  of 
public  employments,  particularly  attached  themselves 
to  such  aged  and  experienced  persons,4  as  had  distin- 
guished themselves  most  eminently  therein;  and  who, 
both  by  their  conversation  and  example,  could  teach 
them  the  art  of  conducting  themselves,  and  governing 
others  with  wisdom  and  discretion.  Thus,  says  Plu- 
tarch, did  Aristides  attach  himself  to  Clisthenes,  and 
Cimon  to  Aristides;  and  he  enumerates  several  others, 
and  among  the  rest  Polybius,  whom  we  have  men- 
tioned so  often,  and  who  in  his  youth  was  the  con- 
stant disciple,  and  faithful  imitator,  of  the  celebrated 
Philopcemen. 

Themistocles  and  Aristides  were  of  very  different 
dispositions;  but  they  both  rendered  great  sen-ices  to 
the  commonwealth.  Themistocles,  who  naturally  in- 
clined to  popular  government,  omitted  nothing  that 
could  contribute  to  render  him  agreeable  to  the  peo- 
ple, and  to  gain  him  friends;  behaving  himstlf  with 
great  affability  and  complaisance  to  every  body,  al- 
ways ready  to  do  service  to  the  citizens,  every  one  of 
whom  he  knew  by  name;  nor  was  he  very  nice  about 
the  means  he  used  to  oblige  them.  Somebody  talking 
with  him  once  on  this  subject,5  told  him  he  would 
make  an  excellent  magistrate,  if  his  behaviour  to- 
wards the  citizens  was  more  impartial,  and  if  he  wan 
not  biassed  in  favour  of  one  more  than  another.  "God 
forbid,"  replied  Themistocles,  "  I  should  ever  sit  upon 
a  tribunal,  where  my  friends  should  find  no  more 
credit  or  favour  than  strangers."  Cleon,  who  appear- 
ed some  time  after  at  Athens,  observed  a  quite  differ- 
ent conduct,  but  yet  such  as  was  not  wholly  exempt 
from  blame.  When  he  came  into  the  administration 
of  public  affairs,  he  assembled  all  his  friends,  and  de- 
clared to  them  that  from  that  moment  he  renounced 
their  friendship,  lest  it  should  prove  an  obstacle  to  him 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  cause  him  to  act  with 
partiality  and  injustice,  ^hi*  was  doing  them  verj 
little  honour,  and  entertaining  no  very  high  opinion 
of  them.  But,  as  Plutarch  says,  it  was'not  his  friend* 
but  his  passions,  that  he  ought  to  have  renounced. 

Aristides  had  the  discretion  to  observe  a  just  inedi- 
urn  between  these  two  vicious  extremes.  Being  a  fa- 
vourer of  aristocracy  in  imitation  of  Lycurgus,  whom 
he  greatly  admired,  he  in  a  manner  struck  out  a  new 
path  of  his  own;  not  endeavouring  to  oblige  hit 
friends  at  the  expense  of  justice,  and  yet  always  ready 
to  do  them  service  when  consistent  with  it.  He  care- 


•  After  the  death  of  Miltiade*.  thin  prince"  hail  by  a  to 
eonH  huthand  a  con,  who  was  called  Oloru*.  after  ili^  name 
of  his  (rrnndfather,  and  who  wa«  Ihe  father  of  Thury.lidei 
the  historian.    Herod. 

•  Pint,  in  Ari«t.  p.  319,  320;  and   in  Them.  p.  112,   113 
An  leni  gil  eer.  Renp.  TflO,  791. 

•  Di»cere  a  peritis.  neqni  optimos.     Tstit.  Agric 

•  Cic.  do  Senect.  Plul.    An  wni  lit  jer.  Re»p.   p.   Mf 
807. 


242 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


fully  avoided  making1  use  of  his  friends'  recommenda- 
tions lor  obtaining  employments,  lest  it  should  prove  a 
dangerous  obligation  upon  him,  as  well  as  a  plausible 
pr«te\i  for  them  to  require  the  same  favour  from  him 
on  the  like  occasion.  He  used  to  say  that  the  true 
citizen,  or  the  honest  man,  ought  to  make  no  other 
use  of  his  credit  and  power,  than  upon  all  occasions 
to  practise  what  was  honest  and  just,  and  engage 
others  to  do  the  same. 

Considering1  this  contrariety  of  principles  and  hu- 
mours, we  are  not  to  wonder,  if,  during  the  adminis- 
tration of  these  great  men,  there  was  a  continual  op- 
position between  them.  Theruistocles,  who  was  bold 
and  enterprising,  was  sure  almost  always  to  find 
Aristide.i  against  him,  who  thought  himself  obliged  to 
thwart  the  other's  designs,  even  sometimes  when  they 
were  just  and  beneficial  to  the  public,  lest  he  should 
gain  too  great  an  ascendant  and  authority,  which 
might  become  pernicious  to  the  commonwealth.  One 
day,  having  got  the  better  of  Themistocles,  who  had 
made  some  proposal  really  advantageous  to  the  state, 
he  could  not  contain  himself,  but  cried  aloud  as  he 
went  out  of  the  assembly,  that  the  Athenians  would 
never  prosper,  till  they  threw  them  both  into  the  Ba- 
rathrum;1 the  Barathrum  was  a  pit,  into  which  male- 
factors condemned  to  die  were  thrown.  But  notwith- 
standing this  mutual  opposition,  when  the  common 
interest  was  at  stake,  they  were  no  longer  enemies; 
and  whenever  they  were  to  take  the  field,  or  engage 
in  any  expedition,  they  agreed  together  to  lay  aside 
all  differences  on  leaving  the  city,  and  to  lie  at  liber- 
ty to  resume  them  on  their  return,  if  they  thought  fit. 

The  predominant  passion  of  Themistocles  was  am- 
bition and  the  love  of  grlory,  which  discovered  itself 
from  his  childhood.  After  the  battle  of  Marathon,  of 
which  we  shall  speak  presently,  when  the  people  were 
everywhere  extolling  the  valour  and  conduct  of  Mil- 
tiades,  who  had  won  it,  Themistocles  generally  ap- 
peared very  thoughtful  and  melancholy:  he  spent 
whole  nights  without  sleep,  and  was  never  seen  at 
public  feasts  and  entertainments  as  usual.  When  his 
friends,  astonished  at  this  change,  nsked  him  the  rea- 
son of  it,  he  made  answer,  that  JViltiadcs's  trophies 
wo'iLi  not  let  him  sleep.  These  were  a  kind  of  «pnr, 
which  never  ceased  to  goad  and  animate  his  ambition. 
From  this  time  Themistocles  addicted  himself  wholly 
to  arms;  and  the  love  of  martial  glory  wholly  en- 
grossed him. 

As  for  Aristides,  the  love  of  the  public  good  was 
the  great  spring  of  all  his  actions.  What  he  was 
most  particularly  admired  for  was  his  constancy  and 
»teadiness  under  the  unforeseen  changes  to  which 
those  who  have  the  administration  of  public  affairs 
are  exposed:  for  he  was  neither  elevated  with  the 
honours  conferred  upon  him,  nor  cast  down  at  the  con- 
tempt and  disappointments  he  sometimes  experienced. 
On  all  occasions  he  preserved  his  usual  calmness  and 
temper,  being  persuaded  that  a  man  ought  to  give 
himself  up  entirely  to  his  country,  and  to  serve  it 
with  a  perfect  disinterestedness,  as  well  with  regard 
to  glory  as  to  riches.  The  general  esteem  in  which 
he  was  held  for  the  uprightness  of  his  intentions,  the 
purity  of  his  zeal  for  the  interests  of  the  state,  and  the 
sincerity  of  his  virtue,  appeared  one  day  in  the  thea- 
tre, when  one  of  jEschylus's  plays  was  acting.  For 
when  the  actor  had  repeated  that  verse  which  de- 
grribes  the  character  of  Amphiaraus,  He  does  not  de- 
sire In  seem  an  honest  and  virtuous  man,  but  really 
to  be  so,  the  whole  audience  cast  their  eyes  upon  Ar- 
istHeg,  and  applied  the  eulogr'nim  to  him. 

Another  thing  related  of  him,  with  respect  to  public 
employment,  is  very  remarkable.  He  was  no  sooner 
made  treasurer-general  of  the  republic,  than  he  made 
it  appear  that  his  predecessors  in  that  office  had  cheat- 
ed the  state  of  vast  sums  of  money,  and,  among  the 
rest,  Themistocles  in  particular;  for  this  great  man. 
nith  all  his  merit,  was  not  irreproachable  on  that 
head.  For  which  reason,  when  Aristides  came  to 
pass  his  account",  Themistocles  raised  a  powerful  fac- 
tion against  him,  accused  him  of  having  embezzled 
•the  public  treasure,  and  prevailed  so  far  as  to  have 

»  FloV  Apophthegm,  p  186.' 


him  condemned  and  fined.  But  the  principal  inhabit- 
ants, and  the  most  virtuous  part  of  the  citizens,  rising 
up  against  so  unjust  a  sentence,  not  July  the  judg- 
ment was  reversed,  and  the  fine  remitted,  but  he  was 
elected  treasurer  again  for  the  year  ensuing.  He  then 
seemed  to  repent  of  his  former  administration;  and. 
by  showing  himself  more  tractable  and  indulgent  to- 
wards others,  he.  found  out  the  secret  of  pleasing  all 
that  plundered  the  commonwealth.  For,  as  he  neither 
reproved  them,  nor  narrowly  watched  their  accounts, 
all  those  plunderers,  grown  fat  with  spoil  ami  rapine, 
now  extolled  Aristides  to  the  skies.  It  won  d  have 
been  easy  for  him,  as  we  perceive,  to  have  enriched 
himself  in  a  post  of  that  nature,  which  seems  as  it 
were,  to  invite  a  man  to  it  by  the  manv  favourable 
opportunities  it  lays  in  his  way;  especially  as  he  had 
to  do  with  officers,  who,  for  their  part,  were  intent 
upon  nothing  but  robbing  the  public,  and  would  have 
been  ready  to  conceal  the  frauds  of  the  treasurer  their  . 
master,  upon  condition  he  did  them  the  same  favour. 

These  very  officers  now  made  interest  with  the 
people  to  have  him  continued  a  third  year  in  the  same 
employment.  But  when  the  time  of  election  was 
come,  just  as  they  were  upon  the  point  of  electing  . 
Aristides  unanimously,  he  rose  up,  and  warmly  repro- 
ved the  Athenian  people:  "What,"  says  he,  "  when. 
I  managed  your  treasure  with  all  the  fidelity  and  dili- 
gence an  honest  man  is  capable  of,  I  met  with  the 
most  cruel  treatment,  and  the  mo«t  mortifying  rf  turn, 
and  now  that  I  have  abandoned  it  to  the  mercy  of  all 
these  robbers  of  the  public,  I  am  an  admirable  man 
and  the  best  of  citizens!  I  cannot  help  declaring  to 
you  that  I  am  more  ashamed  of  the  honour  you  do  me 
this  day,  than  I  was  of  the  condemnation  you  passed 
against  me  this  time  twelvemonth;  and  with  srrief  1 
find  that  it  is  more  glorious  with  us  to  he  complaisant 
to  knaves,  than  to  save  the  treasures  of  the  republic." 
By  this  declaration  he  silenced  the  public  plunderers, 
and  gained  the  esteem  of  all  good  men. 

Such  were  the  characters  of  these  two  illustrioui 
Athenians,  who  began  to  display  the  extent  of  their 
merit,  when  Darius  turned  his  arms  against  Greece. 

II.  Darius  sends  heralds  into  Greece,  tn  order  to 
sound  the  people,  and  to  require  them  to  submit, 
Before  this  prince  would  directly 
engage  in  this  enterprise,  he  judged  A.  M.  3511 

it  expedient,  first  of  all,  to  sound  Ant.  J.  C.  493. 
the  Grecians,  and  to  know  in  what 
manner  the  different  states  stood  affected  toward* 
him.  With  this  view  he  sent  heralds  into  all  parts  of 
Greece,  to  require  earth  and  water  in  his  name;  this 
was  the  form  used  by  the  Persians  when  they  exacted 
submission  from  those  they  were  desirous  nt"  bring- 
ing under  subjection.  On  the  arrival  of  these  heralds, 
manv  of  the  Grecian  cities  dreading  the  power  of  the 
Persians,  complied  with  thfir  demands:  and  among 
these  were  the  inhabitants  of  ^Eafma,  a  little  isle,  over 
against  and  not  far  from  Athens.  This  proceeding 
of  the  people  of  jEgina  was  looked  upon  as  a  public 
treason.  The.  Athenians  represented  the  matter  to  the 
Spartans,  who  immediately  sent  Cleomenes,  one  of 
their  kings,  to  apprehend  the  authors  of  it.  The  peo- 
ple of  jEgina  refused  to  deliver  them,  under  pretence 
that  he  came  without  his  colleague.2  This  colleague 
was  Demaratus,  who  had  himself  sujjjested  that  ex- 
cuse. As  soon  as  Cleomenes  was  returned  to  Snarta, 
in  order  to  be  revenged  on  Demaratus  for  that  affront, 
he  endeavoured  to  get  him  deposed,  as  not  beiny  of 
the  royal  family;  and  succeeded  in  his  attrmpt  by 
the  assistance  of  the  priestess  of  Delphi,  whom  he  had 
suborned  to  give  an  answer  favourable  to  his  designs. 
Demaratus  not  bein?  able  to  endure  so  gross  an  af- 
front, banished  him«elf  from  his  country,  and  retired 
to  Darius,  who  received  him  with  open  arm«,  ami  crave 
him  a  considerable  establishment  in  'Persia.  He  wai 
succeeded  in  the  throne  by  Leutychides,  who  joined  his 
colleague,  and  went  with  him  to  j^uina.  from  whenca 
they  brought  away  ten  of  the  principal  inhabitants 
and  committed  them  to  the  custody  of  the  Athenians 
their  declared  enemies.  Cleomenes  dying  not  long 


t  Herod.  I.  »:.  r.  49—56. 


PERSIANS  AND  CREOLES. 


243 


after,  and  tht  framl  he  had  committed  at  Delphi  be- 
..!«:  discovered,  the  Lacedaemonians  endeavoured  to 
oblige  the  people  of  Athens  to  set  those  prisoners  at 
liberty;  but  they  refused. 

The  Persian  heralds  that  went  to  Sparta  and 
Athens.,'  were  not  so  favourably  received  a*  those  that 
had  been  sent  to  the  other  cities.  One  of  them  was 
thrown  into  a  well,  and  the  other  into  a  deep  ditch, 
and  were  bid  to  take  thence  earth  and  water.  I  should 
be  less  surprised  at  this  unworthy  treatment,  if  Athens 
alone  had  been  concerned  in  it.  It  was  a  proceeding 
suitable  enough  to  a  popular  government,  rash,  impe- 
tuous, and  violent;  where  reason  is  seldom  hetird,  and 
every  thing  is  determined  by  passion.  But  I  do  not 
here  recognize  the  Spartan  equity  and  gravity.  They 
were  at  liberty  to  refuse  what  was  demanded;  but  to 
treat  pi.blic  officers  in  such  a  manner,  was  an  open 
violation  of  the  law  of  nations.  If  what  historians 
•ay  on  this  head  be  true,2  the  crime'  did  not  remain 
unpunished.  Talthybius,  one  of  Agamemnon's  her- 
alds, was  honoured  at  Sparta  as  a  god,  and  had  a  tem- 
plr  there.  He  revenged  the  indignities  done  to  the 
Heralds  of  the  king  of  Persia,  and  made  the  Spartans 
feel  the  effects  of  his  wrath,  by  bringing  many  terrible 
accidents  upon  them.  In  order  to  appease  him,  and 
to  expiate  their  offence,  they  sent  afterwards  several 
of  their  chief  citizens  into  Persia,  who  voluntarily  of- 
fered themselves  as  victims  for  their  country.  They 
were  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Xerxes,  who  would 
not  let  them  suffer,  but  sent.them  hack  to  their  own 
country.  As  for  the  Athenians, Talthybius  executed 
his  vengeance  on  the  family  of  Miltiades,  who  was 
principally  concerned  in  the  outrage  committed  upon 
Darius's  heralds. 

III.  The  Persians  defeated  at  Marathon  by  Miltiade*. 
The  melancholy  end  of  l/int  general. 

Darius    immediately    sent    away 
A.  M.  3.514.     Dalis  and    Artaphernes,   whom   he 
Ant.  J.  C.  490.     had  appointed  generals  in  the  room 
of  Mardonins.      Their  instructions 
were  to  give  up  F.retria  and  Athens  to  be  plundered, 
to  burn  all  the  houses  and    temples  therein,  to  make 
all  the 'inhabitants  of  both   places  prisoners,  and  to 
send  them  to    Darius;   for  which   purpose  they  went 

;rovided  with  a  ^reat  number  of  chains  and  fetter*, 
hey  set  sail  with  a  fleet  of  5  or  600  ships,3  and  an 
army  of  500,000  men.  After  having  made  themselves 
masters  of  the  isles  in  the  ^gean  sea,  which  they  did 
without  difficulty,  they  turned  their  course  towards 
F.retna.a  citj  of  F.uhnca,  which  they  took  aftera  siege 
of  seven  days  by  the  treachery  of  some  of  the  princi- 
pal inhabitants:  they  reduced  it  entirely  to  ashes,  put 
all  the  inhabitants  in  chains,  and  sent  them  to  Persia. 
Darius,*  contrary  to  their  expectation,  treated  them 
kindly,  and  s;ave  them  a  village  in  the  country  of  Cis- 
sia  for  t'leir  habitation,  which  was  but  a  day's  journey 
from  Susa.  where  Apollonins  Tyanreus  found  some  of 
their  descendants  600  years  aftervards.' 

After  this  success  at  F.retria,'  the  Persians  ad vagced 
towards  ^tica.  Hippias  conducted  them  to  Mara- 
thon, a  little  town  by  «he  sea-side.  They  took  care 
to  acquaint  the- Athenians  with  the  fate  of  Eretria; 
and  to  let  them  know,  that  not  an  inhabitant  of  that 
place  had  escaped  their  vengeance,  in  hopes  that  this 
news  would  induce  them  to  surrender  immediately. 
The  Athenians  had  sent  to  Lacedsemon,  to  desire 
•uoconrs  against  the  common  enemy,  which  the  Spar- 
tans "-runted  them  instantly,  and  without  d<  libera- 
tion: bnt  which  could  not  set  out  til!  some  days  after, 
on  account  of  an  ancient  custom  and  a  superstitious 
nuixim  amonsr«t  them,  that  did  not  permit  them  to  he- 
gin  tSeir  march  before  the  full  of  the  moon.  Not  one 
of  their  otherallies  prepared  to  succour  them,  so  great 
terror  had  the  formidable  army  of  the  Persians  spread 
on  every  side.  The  inhabitants  of  Platasae  alone  fur- 
nished them  with  1000  soldiers.  In  this  extremity  the 


T' 


i  Jlorod.  1.  vii.  p.  133.  138. 

»  lliici.  r.  13.1).  ISi.  Paus.  in  Lncnn.  p.  182,  1P3. 

•  Pint,  in  Moral,  p.  H9.  4  Herod.  I.  ri.  c.  119. 

•  Pliiloslr.  I.  i.  r.  17. 

•  Herod.  I.  vi.  c.  102-120.    Cor.  Nep.  in  Milt.  e.  IT.— »i. 
Mtin.  1.  ii.  c  3.    Plut.  in  Ariitid.  p.  321. 


Athenians  were  obliged  to  arm  their  siaves.  n>hicb 
had  never  been  done  there  before  this  occasion. 

The  Persian  army  commanded  by  Diilis  consisted 
of  100.000  foot  and  10,000  horse:  that  of  the  /•  '.he- 
nians  amounted  in  all  but  to  10,000  men.  It  wai 
headed  by  ten  generals,  of  whom  Miltiades  was  the 
chief;  and  these  ten  were  to  have  the  command  of  the 
whole  army,  each  for  a  day,  one  after  another.  There 
was  a  great  dispute  among  those  generals  whether 
they  should  hazard  a  battle,  or  expect  the  enemy 
within  their  walls.  The  latter  opinion  had  a  great 
majority,  and  appeared  very  reasonable.  For,  what 
appearance  of  success  coul.l  tl  ere  be  in  facing  with 
a  handful  of  soldiers  so  numen  us  and  formidable  aa 
army  as  that  of  the.  Persians  .'  \  iltiades,  however,  de- 
.clared  for  the  contrary  opin  on,  and  showed  that  the 
only  means  to  exalt  the  courage  of  their  own  troops, 
and  to  strike  a  terror  into  those  of  the  enemy,  was  to 
advance  boldly  towards  them  with  an  air  of  Confidence 
and  intrepidity.  Aristides  strenuously  defended  this 
opinion,  and  brought  some  of  the  other  commander* 
into  it,  so  when  the  suffrages  came  to  be  taken,  they 
were  equal  on  both  sides  of  the  question.  Hereupon 
Miltiades  addressed  himself  to  Callimachus,  who  was 
then  poleiuarch,?  and  had  a  right  of  voting  as  well 
as  the  ten  commanders.  He  very  warmly  represent- 
ed to  him,  that  the  fate  of  their  country  was  then  in 
his  hands;  and  that  his  single  vote  was  to  determine 
whether  Athens  should  preserve  her  liberty,  or  be  en- 
slaved; and  that  he  had  it  in  his  power  by  one  word 
to  become  as  famous  as  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton, 
the  authors  of  that  liberty  which  the  Athenians  en- 
joyed. Cailimachus  pronounced  the  word  in  favour 
of  Miltiades's  opinion;  and  accordingly  a  battle  wag 
resolved  upon. 

Aristides,  reflecting  that  a  command  which  changes 
every  day  must  necessarily  be  feeble,  unequal,  not  of 
a  niece,  often  contrary  to  itself,  and  incapable  either 
of  projecting  or  executing  any  uniform  design,  was 
ot  opinion,  that  their  clanger  was  both  too  great  and 
too  pressing  for  them  to  expose  their  affairs  to  such 
inconveniences.  In  order  to  prevent  them,  he  judged 
it  necessary  to  vest  the  whole  power  in  one  single 
person;  and  to  induce  his  colleagues  to  act  conform- 
ably, he  himself  set  the  first  example  of  resignation. 
When  the  day  came  on  which  it  was  his  turn  to  take 
upon  him  the  command,  he  resigned  it  to  Miltiades, 
as  the  more  able  and  experienced  general.  The  other 
commanders  did  the  fame,  all  sentiments  of  jealousy 
giving  way  to  the  love  of  the  public  good  ;  and  by  this 
day's  behaviour  we  may  learn,  that  it  is  almost  a* 
glorious  to  acknowledge  merit  in  other  persons,  a?  to 
have  it  in  one's  self.  Miltiades,  however,  thought  fit 
to  wait  till  his  own  day  came.  Then,  like  an  able 
captain,  he  endeavoured  by  the  advantage  of  the 
ground  to  gain  what  he  wanted  in  strength  and  num- 
ber. He  drew  up  his  army  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain, 
that  the  enemy  should  not  be  able  either  to  surround 
him,  or  charge  him  in  the  rear.  On  the  two  sides  of 
the  army  he  caused  large  trees  to  be  thrown,  which 
were  cut  down  on  purpose,  in  order  to  cover  his 
flanks,  and  render  the  Persian  cavalry  useless.  Datis, 
their  commander,  was  very  sensible,  that  the  place 
was  not  advantageous  for  him:  but  relying  upor:  the 
number  of  his  troops,  which  was  infinitely  superior  to 
that  of  the  Athenians,  and,  beside*,  not  being  willing 
to  stay  till  the  reinforcement  of  the  Spartans  arrived, 
he  determined  to  engage.  The  Athenians  did  not 
wait  for  the  enemy's  charging  them.  As  soon  n«  the 
signal  of  battle  was  g-iven.  they  ran  against  the  enemy 
with  all  the  fury  imaginable.  The  Persians  looked 
upon  this  first  step  of  the  Athenians  as  a  piece  «f  mad- 
ness, considering  their  army  was  so  small,  and  utterly 
destitute  both  of  cavalry  and  archers:  but  they  were 
quickly  undeceived.  Herodotus  observes,  that  this 
was  the  first  time  the  Grecians  began  an  engagement 
by  running  in  this  manner;  which  may  seem  some- 
what astonishing.  And,  indeed,  was  there  not  reason 
to  apprehend,  that  their  running  would  in  some  mea- 


'  The  polr  march  at  Athnns  wan  both  an  officer  nml  a  eo^- 
*ideralile  magistrate,  equally  employed  to  commaml  in  th* 
•  rmy  and  to  administer  JUKI  ice.  1  iliall  gite  a  larger  account 
of  tbu  officer  in  anotl-er  ulac«. 


244 


HISTORY  Ot   THE 


»nre  weaken  the  loops  and  blunt  the  edge  of  their 
first  impetuosity''!  and  that  the  soUiers,  having  quitted 
their  rank?,  .night  bfc  out  of  breath,  exhausted,  and  in 
di»orner,  when  they  came  up  to  the  enemy,  who,  wait- 
ing to  receive  them  in  good  order,  and  without  stir- 
ring. ousjht,  one  would  think,  to  be  in  a  condition  to 
sustain  their  charge  advantageously  1  This  considera- 
tion ensraijed  Ponriey,1  at  the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  to 
keep  his  troops  steady,  and  to  forbid  them  making  any 
movement  till  the  enemy  made  the  first  at  tuck;  but* 
C.e-ar8  blames  Pompey's  conduct  in  this  respect,  and 
gives  th'n  reason  for  it:  that  the  impetuosity  of  an  ar- 
mv's  motion  in  running  to  engage,  ir.spins  the  sol- 
dier* with  a  certain  enthusiasm  arid  martial  fuiv,  gives 
an  additional  force  to  their  blows,  and  increases  arid 
inflames  their  courage,  which  hv  the  rapid  movement 
of  so  nnnv  thousand  men  together,  is  blown  up  and 
kindled,  if  I  inay  use  that  expression,  like  (lames  by 
the  wind.  I  leave  it  to  military  men  to  deride  the 
point  between  these  two  great  captains,  and  return  to 
my  subject. 

The  battle  was  very  fierce  and  obstinate.  Miltiades 
had  made  the  wings  of  his  army  exceeding  strong, 
but  had  left  the  main  body  more  weak,  and  not  so 
deep:  the  reason  of  which"  seems  manifest  enough. 
Having  but  J  0,000  men  to  oppose  to  such  a  multitude 
of  the  enemy,  it  was  impossible  for  him  either  to  make 
an  extensive  front,  or  to  give  an  equal  depth  to  his 
battalions.  He  was  obliged  therefore  to  take  his 
choice;  an-1  he  imagined  that  he  could  gain  the  victo  v 
no  otherwise  than  by  the  efforts  he  should  make  with 
his  two  wings,  to  break  and  disperse  those  of  the  Per- 
sians; not  doubting  but,  vvhen  his  wings  were  once 
victorious,  they  would  he  able  to  attack  the  enemy's 
main  bvly  in  flank,  and  complete  the  victory  without 
much  difficulty.  This  was  the  same  plan  as  Hannibal 
followed  afterwards  at  the  battle  of  Cannje,  which  suc- 
ceeded <o  well  with  him,  and  which  indeed  can  scarce 
ever  fail  of  succeed  in?.  The  Persians  then  attacked 
the  main  body  of  the  Grecian  army,  and  made  their 
greatest  effort  particularly  upon  their  front.  This  w;is 
led  by  Aristides  and  Themistocles,  who  supported  the 
attack  a  Ion-;  time  with  an  intrepid  courage  and  bra- 
very, but  were  at  length  obliged  to  give  ground.  At 
that  very  instant  came  up  their  two  victorious  wings, 
which  had  defeated  those  of  the  enemy,  and  put  them 
to  flisht.  Nothing  could  be  more  seasonable  for  the 
main  body  of  the  Grecian  army,  which  began  to  be 
broken,  being:  quite  borne  down  by  the  number  of  the 
Persians.  The  scale  was  quicklv  turned,  and  the  Bar- 
barians were  entirely  routed.  They  all  betook  them- 
•elves  to  flisrht,  not  towards  their  camp,  but  to  their 
•hips,  that  they  might  make  their  escape.  The  Athe- 
nians pursued  them  thither,  and  set  many  of  their  ves- 
•els  on  fire.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Cynaeginis, 
the  brother  of  the  poet  jEschylus,  who  had'laid  hold 
of  one  of  the  ships,  in  order  to  get  into  it  with  those 
that  fled,  had  his  right  hand  cut  off,*  and  fell  into  «he 
•«a  and  was  drowned.  The  Athenians  took  seven 
•hips.  They  had  not  above  200  men  killed  on  their 
•ide  in  this  engagement;  whereas  on  the  side  of  the 
Persians  about  6060  were  slain,  without  reckoning 
those  \vho  fell  into  the  sea  as  they  endeavoured  to  es- 
cape, or  those  that  were  consumed  with  the  ships  set 
on  fire. 

Hippias  was  killed  in  the  battle.  That  ungrateful 
and  perfidious  citizen,  in  order  to  recover  the  unjust 
dominion  usurped  by  his  father  Pisi«tratus  over  the 
Athenians,  had  the  baseness  to  become  a  servile 

i  On   in  rV'tl.  Civil.  1   iii. 

»  Plut.  in  Pump   p.  «50   in  Op*,  p.  710. 

«  Qii'xl  nohi«  (juidem  nulls  ration*  far-turn  A  Pompeio  »i- 
detur:  itronterea  qnAd  cut  quit-dam  iiiciiatio  nt<|uo  alacrita* 
nii'tirnlilcr  innatn  omnil>u«,  qu.v  studio  pu;nip  inrciu'itur. 
Hnnc  non  rcprimere,  sod  augere  imperntores  debent.  Cox. 


»,,,.   re.  $iut.  i,  Ti,r,,  !.*„.*.  r,ul,,..     p|,,,.  jn  (>„, 

«  Justin  adds.  that  Cynipcirun.  havinjr  firnt  hnd  hi<  rijlit 
aii'l  ihrn  his  left  Imml  cut  off  with  an  axe.  Inid  h.ild  of  The 
v  ssel  with  his  feth.  and  would  nut  let  so.  so  violent  was 
his  r«ee  airninst  the  enemy.  Thin  account  in  utterly  fabu- 
luut,  and  has  no*,  '.he  (cut  apnenranre  of  truth 


courtier  to  a  Barbarian  prince,  and  to  implort  his  aid 
against  his  native  country.  Urged  on  by  hatred  ana 
revenge,  he  suggested  all  the  means  he  could  invent 
to  load  hi*  country  with  chains,  and  even  put  hnus«-lf 
at  the  head  of  its  enemies,  to  reduce  that  city  It)  Josh- 
es to  which  he  owed  his  birth,  and  against  which  he 
had  no  other  ground  of  complaint,  than  that  sh* 
would  not  acknowledge  him  lor  her  tyrant.  An  ig- 
nominious death,  together  with  everlasting  infant} 
entailed  upon  his  name,  was  the  just  rtward  of  so 
black  a  treachery. 

Immediately  after  the  battle,5  an  Athenian  soldier 
still  reeking  with  the  blood  of  the  enemy,  quitted  the 
armr  and  ran  to  Athens  to  carry  his  fellow-citizen 
the  happy  news  of  the  victory.  When  he  anivnl  at 
the  magistrates'  house,  he  only  uttered  two  words, 
Rejoice,  the  victory  is  ours,6  and  I  til  down  dead  at 
their  feet. 

The  Persians  had  thought  themselves  so  sure  of  vic- 
tory,7 that  they  Tiad  brought  marble  to  Marathon, 
in  order  to  erect  a  trophy  there.  The  Grecians  took 
this  marble,  and  caused  a  statue  to  be  made  of  it 
bv  Phidias  in  honour  of  the  goddess  Nemesis,8  who 
had  a  temple  near  the  place  where  the  battle  wa» 
fought. 

The  Persian  fleet,  instead  of  sailing  by  the  islands, 
in  order  tore-enter  Asia,  doubled  the  caj>e  of  Suuium, 
wit')  the  design  of  surprising  Athens  before  the  Athe 
nian  forces  should  arrive  there  to  defend  the  city. 
But  the  latter  had  the  precaution  to  march  thither 
with  ninetribes  to  secure  their  country, and  performed 
the  march  with  so  much  expedition,  that  they  arrived 
there  the  same  day.  The  distance  from  Marathon  to 
Athens  is  about  forty  miles,  or  fifteen  French  leagues. 
This  was  a  great  exertion  for  an  armv  that  had  just 
undergone  a  long  and  severe  battle.  By  this  means 
the  design  of  the  Persians  miscarried.9 

Aristides,  the  onlv  general  that  staved  at  Marathon 
with  his  tribe,  to  take  care  of  the  spoil  and  prisoners, 
acted  suitablv  to  the  good  opinion  that  was  entertain- 
ed of  him.  For  though  gold  and  silver  were  scattered 
about  in  abundance  in  the  enemy'*  camp,  and  though 
all  the  tents  as  well  as  galleys  that  were  taken,  were 
full  of  rich  clothes  and  costly  furniture,  and  treasure 
of  all  kimls,  to  an  immense  value,  he  not  only  was  not 
tempted  to  toucFf  any  of  it  himself,  but  hindered  eve- 
ry bodv  else  from  touching  it. 

As  soon  as  the  day  of  the  full  moon  was  over,  the 
Lacedaemonians  began  their  march  with  2000  men; 
and  having  travelled  with  all  imaginable  expedition, 
arrived  in  Attica  after  three  days'  forced  march;  the 
distance  from  Sparta  to  Attica  bein<r  no  less  than 
1200  stadia,  or  ISO  English  miles.  The  battle  was 
fought  the  dav  before  they  arrived:'0  however,  they 
proceeded  to  Marathon,  where  they  found  the  fields 
covered  with  dead  bodies  and  riches.  After  having; 
congratulated  the  Athenians  on  the  happy  success  of 
the  battle,  they  returned  to  their  own  country. 

They  were  hindered  by  a  foolish  and  ridiculous  su- 
perstition from  having  a  share  in  the  most  gloriou» 
action  recorded  in  history.  For  it  is  almost  without 
example,  th<tt  such  a  handful  of  men,  as  the  Athe- 

•  Plut.  de  fflor.  Athen.  p.  347. 

t  Xxifirt,  XxififiH'.     I  roulc)  not  render  the  liTehnen  ft 
the  Greek  expression  in  our  language, 
t  Pau».  I.  i.  p.  62. 

•  This  was  the  jjoddens  whose  business  it  wat  !o  pnnith 
inju.'ticp  and  oppression. 

•  f  Plain  of  Marathon.— This  plain,    >n  hi»hly  celebrated 
in  classical  history,  in  so  denominated  from    the    village  of 
that  name,  whinh  is  situate  at  the  N.  W.  extremitvof  a  \al- 
Iry,  which  opens  toward  the  S.  E.  into  the  great  plain,  which 
it  finite  flat,   and  exlcnds  nlon»  the  sea  «horp  from  \.  K.  to 
9.  *.V.    Ttip  distance  of  the  village  from  Athena  i*  8  hours 
or  '24  milp«,  allowing  3  miles  toeach  hour  ;  hut  a»  the  road 
is  throiuh   a  rocky  and  uneven  country,  the  dintance   doe» 
not,  pprhnpa,   exceed  CJ  miles  per  hour,  or  20  miles.     From 
the  villaje  to  the  »ea,   the  plain  extend*  3  miles.     Bevond 
the  village  at  the  end  of  the  plain,  towards  the  sea.  is  seen 
the   conspicuous   Tomb    (called  Tnphos   by  Pnnsanins,  and 
Ten«>    in    modern  times;  an  appellation  bestowed  on  evert 
ancient  tomb  of  this  sort  throughout  Greece  and  Asia  Ml 
nor.)  railed  over  the  bodies  of  the  Alheniuii  who  fell  in  'hi* 
bnttl-.J 

«•  Isocr.  in  Pancjjr.  p.  D3. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


245 


mans  wrrc,  should  not  only  make  head  against  so  nu- 
merous an  army  ns  that  of  the  Persians,  but  should 
entirely  rout  anci  defeat  them.  One  is  astonished  to 
lee  so  formidable  a  power  attack  so  small  a  city  ar.d 
miscarry ;  and  wo.  are  almost  tempted  to  question  the 
trul h  of  an  cv«nt  that  appears  so  improbable,  which 
nevertheless  ir.  very  certain.  This  battle  alone  shows 
what  wonderful  thing?  may  be  performed  by  an  able 
general,  who  knows  how  to  take  his  advantages;  by 
the  intrepidity  o'f  soldiers  that  are  not  afraid  of  death : 
hy  a  zeal  for  one's  country;  the  love  of  liberty;  a 
hatred  and  detestation  of  slavery  and  tyranny;  which 
Were  sentiments  natural  to  the  Athenians,  but  un- 
doubtedly very  much  augmented  and  inflamed  by 
the  very  presence  of  Hippias,  whom  they  dreaded  to 
have  again  for  their  master,  after  all  that  had  passed 
betiveen  them. 

Plato,1  in  more  places  than  one,  makes  it  his  busi- 
ness to  extol  tlie  battle  of  Marathon,  and  is  desirous 
that  that  art. on  should  be  considered  as  the  source 
ami  original  cause  of  all  the  victories  that  were  gain- 
ed afterwards.  It  was  undoubtedly  this  victory  that 
deprived  the  Persian  power  of  that  terror  which  had 
rendered  them  so  formidable,  and  had  made  every 
thing:  stoop  before  them:  it  was  this  victory  that 
tan»ht  the  Grecians  to  know  their  own  strength,  and 
not  to  tremble  before  an  enemy  terrible  only  in  name; 
that  made  them  find  by  experience,  that  victory  does 
not  depend  so  much  upon  thf  number  as  the  courage 
of  troops;  that  set  before  their  eves,  in  a  most  con- 
spicuous light,  the  glory  there  is  in  sacrificing  one's 
life  in  deft  nee  of  our  country,  and  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  liberty;  and  lastly,  tha't  inspired  them,  through 
the  whole  course  of  succeeding  ages,  with  a  noble 
c-mulHtion  an'l  warm  desire  to  imitate  their  ancestors, 
and  not  to  degenerate  from  their  virtue.  For,  on  all 
important  occasions,  it  was  customary  among  them 
to  put  the  people  in  mind  of  Miltiades  and  his  invinci- 
ble troop,  that  is,  of  that  little  army  of  heroes,  whose 
intrepidity  and  bravery  had  done  so  much  honour  to 
Athens. 

Those  that  were  slain  in  the  battle,*  had  all  the  hon- 
our immediately  paid  to  them  that  was  due  to  their 
merit.  Illustrious  monuments  were  erected  to  them 
all,  in  the  very  place  where  the  battle  was  fought; 
upon  which  their  own  names  and  that  of  their  tribes 
w-e  recorded.  There  were  three  distinct  sets  of 
monuments  separately  erected,  one  for  the  Athenians, 
another  for  the  Plataeans,  and  a  third  for  the  slaves 
whom  they  had  admitted  among  their  soldiers  on  that 
occasion.  Mihindes's  tomb  was  erected  afterwards 
in  the  same  place. 

The  reflection  Cornelius  Nepos  s  makes  upon  what 
tlie  Athenians  did  to  honour  the  memory  of  their  gen- 
eral, deserves  to  be  taken  notice  of.  Formerly,  snys 
he,  speaking  of  the  Romans,  our  ancestors  rewarded 
virtue,  by  marks  of  distinction,  neither  pompons  nor 
magnificent,  which  however  were  rarely  granted,  and 
for  that  very  reason  were  hi«hlv  esteemed:  whereas 
DOW,  they  are  so  profusely  bestowed,  that  little  or  no 
value  is  set  upon  them  The  same  thing  happened, 
adds  he,  amonsr  the  Athenians.  All  the  honour  that 
was  paid  to  Milliades.  the  deliverer  of  Athens  and  of 
all  Greece,  was,  that,  in  a  picture  of  the  battle  of  Ma- 
rathon, drawn  by  order  of  the  Athenians,  he  was  re- 
presented at  the  head  of  the  ten  commanders,  exhort- 
ing the  soldiers,  and  setting  them  an  example  of  their 
July.  But  this  same  people  in  later  ages,  being 
frown  more  powerful,  and  corrupted  by  the  flatteries 
of  their  orators,  decreed  300  statues  to  Demetrius 
Phaleri  u«. 

Plutarch  makes  the  same  reflection.^  and  wisely  ob- 
serves, that  the  honour5  which  is  paid  to  great  men 
ouffht  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  the  reward  of  their 
illustrious  actions,  but  only  as  a  mark  of  the  esteem 
In  which  they  are  held,  the  remembrance  whereof 

•  In  Menex.  p.  239.  240.     Et  lib.  Hi.  do  Leg.  p.  098,  699. 
»  Pr,u«.  in  Allir.  p  frft,  61. 

•  Tor.    Ncp   in  Mill.  c.  vi. 

•  In  pr»<\  de  rrp.  gv\.  p.  820. 

•  OC  yij.  fii<rilv    iTvx.   Jn  rS?  x-fif'at,  tx\«  rlft/tt*.tr 
4*  Ti^ir,  i»*  xai  Ji.^in,  *tjuv  Zf.nr. 


such  monuments  are  intended  to  perpetuate.  It  it  not 
then  the  stateliness  or  magnificence  of  public  monu- 
ments which  gives  them  their  value,  or  makes  then 
durable,  but  the  sincere  gratitude  of  those  that  erect 
them.  The  300  statues  of  Demetrius  I  halereus  were 
all  thrown  down  even  in  his  own  life-ti.vie,  but  the 
picture  in  which  Miltiades's  courage  was  represented 
was  preserved  many  ages  after  him. 

This  picture  was  kept  at  Athens  in  a  gallery  adorn- 
ed and  enriched  with  different  paintings,6  all  excel- 
lent in  their  kind,  and  done  by  the  greatest  masten; 
which,  for  that  reason,  was  called  Poecile,  from  the 
Greek  word  »»«««».<.  signifying  varied  and  diversified. 
The  celebrated  Polygnotusi,  a  native  of  the  isle  of 
Thasos,  and  one  of  the  finest  painters  of  his  time, 
painted  this  "picture,  or  at  least  the  greatest  part  of 
it;  and,  as  he  valued  himself  upon  his  reputation,  and 
was  more  attached  to  glory  than  interest,  he  did  it 
gratuitously,  and  would  not  receive  any  recompense 
For  it.  The  city  of  Athens  therefore  rewarded  him 
with  a  sort  of  coin  that  was  more  acceptable  to  his 
taste,  by  procuring  an  order  from  the  Amphvctions 
which  assigned  him  a  public  lodging  in  the  city, 
where  he  might  live  during  his  own  pleasure. 

The  gratitude  of  the  Athenians  towards  Miltiades 
was  of  no  very  long  duration."  After  the  battle  of 
Marathon,  he  had  desired  and  obtained  the  command 
of  a  fleet  of  seventy  ships,  in  order  to  punish  and  sub- 
due the  islands  that  had  favoured  the  Barbarians.  Ac- 
cordingly he  reduced  several  of  them ;  but  having  had 
ill  success  in  the  isle  of  Paros,  and,  upon  a  false  re- 
port of  the  arrival  of  the  enemy's  fleet,  having  raised 
the  siege  which  he  had  laid  to  the  capital,  wherein  he 
had  received  a  very  dangerous  wound,  he  returned  to 
Athens  with  his  fle'et;  and  was  there  impeached  by  a 
citizen,  called  Xanthippus,  who  accused  him  of  hav- 
ing raised  the  siege  through  treachery,  and  in  con- 
sideration of  a  great  sum  of  money  given  him  by  the 
king  of  Persia.  Little  probability  as  there  was  in  this 
accusation,  it  nevertheless  prevailed  over  the  merit 
and  innocence  of  Miltiades.  He  was  condemned  to 
lose  his  life,8  and  to  be  thrown  into  the  Barathrum;  a 
sentence  passed  only  upon  the  greatest  criminals  and 
malefactors.  The  magistrate  opposed  the  execution 
of  so  unjust  a  condemnation.  All  the  favour  shown  to 
this  preserver  of  his  country,  was  to  have  the  sentence 
of  death  commuted  into  a  penalty  of  fifty  talents,  or 
50,000  crowns  French  money,  being  the  sum  to  which 
the  expenses  of  the  fleet,  that  had  been  equipped 
upon  his  solicitation  and  advice,  amounted.  Not 
being  rich  enough  to  pay  this  sum,  he  was  put  into 
prison,  where  he  died  of  the  wound  he  had  received 
at  Paros.  Cimon,  his  son,  who  was  at  this  time  very 
young,  signalized  his  piety  on  this  occasion,  as  we 
shall  find  hereafter  he  signalized  his  courage.  He 
purchased  the  permission  of  burying  his  father's 
body,  by  paying  the  fine  of  50,000  crowns,  in  which 
he  had  been  condemned;  which  sum  the  young  man 
raised,  as  well  as  he  could,  by  the  assistance  of  his 
friends  and  relations. 

Cornelius  Nepos  observes,  that  what  chiefly  in- 
duced the  Athenians  to  act  in  this  manner  with  regard 
to  Miltiades,  was  his  very  merit  and  great  reputation, 
which  made  the  people,  who  were  but  lately  deliver- 
ed from  the  yoke  of  slavery  under  Pisistralus,  appre- 
hend that  Miltiades,  who  had  formerly  been  tyrant 
of  the  Chersonesus,  might  affect  the  same  at  Athene. 
They  therefore  chose  rather  to  punish  an  innocent 
person,9  than  to  be  under  perpetual  apprehensions  of 
him.  To  this  same  principle  was  the  institution  of  the 
ostracism  at  Athens  owing:.  I  have  elsewhere10  given 
an  account  of  the  most  plausible  reasons  upon  which 
the  ostracism  could  be  founded :  but  1  do  not  see  how 
we  can  fullv  justify  so  strange  a  policy,  to  which  all 
merit  become*  suspected,  and  virtue  itself  appears 
criminal. 

This  appears  plainly    in   the  banishment  of   Ari»- 

«  Plin.  1.  xilir.  c.  9. 

»  Herod.  I.  vi  r..  132.  13(5.     Cor.  Ncn  in  Milt.  c.  ru.  ruL 
t  Plut.  in  Gore.  p.  516. 

•  Hav  nopuiuf  rr«;>icif  ns  maluit  e«im  innoctntcm  pleell' 
quam  xc  dmtiui  osse  in  timore. 

i»  Method  of  lumcnine,  Jtc.  vol.  iii.  p.  407. 
V2 


246 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


tides.1  His  inviolable  attachment  to  justice  obliged 
him  on  many  occasions  to  oppose  Themistocles,  who 
did  not  pique  himself  up  >n  his  delicacy  in  that  respect, 
and  who  spared  no  intrigues  and  cabals  to  engage  the 
suffrages  of  the  people,  for  removing  a  rival,  who 
always  opposed  his  ambitious  designs.  In  this  in- 
stance it  was  evident,*  that  a  person  may  be  superior 
in  merit  and  virtue,  without  being  so  in  influence. 
The  impetuous  eloquence  of  Themistocles  prevailed 
over  the  justice  of  Aristides,  and  occasioned  hit  ban- 
ishment. In  this  kind  of  trial  the  citizens  gave  their 
suffrages  by  writin?  the  name  of  the  accused  person 
apon  a  shell,  called  in  Greek  !«Tf«»o»,  from  whence 
came  the  term  Ostracism.  On  this  occasion  a  peas- 
ant, who  could  not  write,  and  did  not  know  Aristides, 
applied  to  him,  and  desired  him  to  put  the  name  of 
Aristides  upon  his  shell.  "  Has  he  done  you  any 
wrong,"  says  Aristides,  "that  you  are  for  condemn- 
ing him  in  this  manner?"  "No,"  replied  the  other, 
"  I  do  not  so  much  as  know  him;  but  I  am  quite  tired 
and  angry  with  hearing  every  body  call  him  '  the 
Just.'  "  Aristides,  without  saying  a  word  more,  calm- 
ly took  the  shell,  wrote  his  own  name  in  it.  and  re- 
turned it.  He  set  out  for  his  banishment,  imploring 
the  gods  that  no  accident  might  befall  his  country,  to 
make  it  regret  him.  The  great  Camillus,8  in  a  like 
case  did  not  imitate  his  generosity,  and  prayed  to  a 
quite  different  effect,  desiring  the  gods  to  force  his 
ungrateful  country,  by  some  misfortune,  to  have  occa- 
sion for  his  aid,  and  to  recall  him  as  soon  as  possible. 
O  fortunate  republic,  exclaims  Valerius  Maximus,* 
speaking  of  Aristides's  banishment,  which,  after  hav- 
ing so  basely  treated  the  most  virtuous  man  it  ever 
produced,  was  yet  able  to  find  citizens  zealously  and 
faithfully  attached  to  her  service!  Felicet  Athenas, 
ante  post  illiiu  exiliitm  invenire  aliynem  out  virum 
oonum,  ant  amantem  sni  civem  poluenmt;  cum  quo 
tune  ipsa  sanctitas  migravit! 

SECTION  VIII. — DARTUS  RESOLVES  TO  MAKE 
WAR  IN  PERSON  AGAINST  EGYPT  AND  AGAINST 
GREECE;  IS  PREVENTED  BY  DEATH.  DISPUTE 
BETWEEN  TWO  OK  HIS  SONS,  CONCERNING  THE 
SUCCESSION  TO  THE  CROWN.  XERXES  IS  CHOSEN 
KING. 

WHEN  Darius  receired  the  news  of  the  defeat  of 
his  army  at  Marathon,*  he  was  violently  enraged; 
•  nd  that  bad  success  was  so  far  from  discouraging  or 
diverting  him  from  carrying  on  the  war  against 
Greece,  that  it  only  served  to  animate  him  to  pursue 
it  with  the  greater  vigour,  in  order  to  be  re\enged  at 
the  same  time  for  the  burning  of  Sard!?,  and  for  the 
dishonour  incurred  at  Marathon.  Being  thus  deter- 
mined to  march  in  person  with  all  his  forces,  he  de- 
•patched  orders  to  all  his  subjects  in  the  several  pro- 
yinces  of  his  empire  to  arm  themselves  for  this  expe- 
dition. 

After  having  spent  three  years  in 
A.  M.  3517.     making  the  necessary  preparations, 
Ant.  J.  C.  487.     he  had  another  war  to  carry  on,  oc- 
casioned by  the  revolt  of  Egypt.   It 
seems  from  what  we  read  in  Diodorns  Siculus,8  that 
Darius  went  thither  himself  to  quell  it,  and    that  he 
tucceeded.      That  historian  relates,  that  upon    this 
prince's  desiring  to  have,  his  statue  placed  before  Se- 
»o«tri«,  the  chief  priest  of  the  Egyptians  told  him  he 
had  not  yet  equalled  the  flnry  of  that  conqueror;  and 
that  the  kins,  far  from  being  offender!  at  the  Ejvpt- 
ian  priest's  freedom,  made  answer,  that  he  would  en- 
deavour to  surpa«s  it.     Diodonis   adds   farther,   that 
Darius  detesting  the  impious  cruelty  which  his  prede- 
cessor Cambyses  hnd   exercised   in' that  country,  ex - 


«  Pint,  in  Arist.  p.  322.  323. 

*  In  Ins  roinitum  c»l.  n,uanti>  antintnrot  eloonpntia    inno- 
e»-ntiie.     Qiinn<]»«in  enim  adefl  excellebat  Aristi<)p«  iibnti- 
ncn'i.i.  i-t  unm  |m»l  hominurn  momorinm.  quod  nuiilcm   no* 
aiidicrimn*.  rojnominp  Ju«tu«  nit  appellatu*  ;  tnrnon  A  The- 
mintcirln    eollnbf>fnrtii«    te<lula    ilia    exilio   derem  unnorum 
muliatu*  put.     Cor  ffep.  inJlrisi. 

*  In   pxilium  ahiit.  nrrcatn*    ah  diis  immnrtalihu*.  *i  in- 
rot  in  »!!:•  i>a  injuria  fir-let,  primo  quoqu'1  tem|»ire  duiiduri- 
um  «»i  rivitati  injrruir  fac-rcnt.    Liv.  1   T.  n.  32. 

*  Val.  Max.  !.  v.  c.  3. 

>  llerue    .  vii.  c.  1  •  Lib  i.  p  54.  85 


pressed  great  reverence  for  their  gjds  »nd  templet, 
that  he  had  several  conversations  with  tne  Egyptian 
priests  upon  matters  ot  religion  and  government;  and 
that,  having  learnt  of  them,  with  what  gentleness 
their  ancient  kings  used  to  treat  their  subjects,  he  en- 
deavoured, after  his  return  into  Persia,  to  form  him- 
self upon  their  model.  But  Herodotus,7  more  wor- 
thy of  belief  in  this  particular  than  Diodorus,  onh  ob- 
serves, that  this  prince,  resolving  at  once  to  chastise 
his  revolted  subjects,  and  to  be  avenged  of  his  ancient 
enemies,  determined  to  make  war  against  both  at  the 
same  time,  and  to  attack  Greece  in  person  with  the 
main  body  of  his  army,  whilst  the  rest  of  it  was  em- 
ployed in  the  reduction  of  Egypt. 

According  to  the  ancient  custom 
among   the    Persians,8    their   king  A.  M.  3519. 

was  not  allowed  to  go  to  war,  with-  Ant.  J.  C.  485. 
out  having  first  named  tne  person 
that  should  succeed  him  in  the  throne;  a  custom  wise- 
ly established  to  prevent  the  state's  being  exposed  to 
the  troubles  which  generally  attend  the  uncertainty 
of  a  successor,  to  the  inconveniences  of  anarchy,  and 
to  the  cabals  of  various  pretenders.  Darius,  before 
he  undertook  his  expedition  against  Greece,  thought 
himself  the  more  obliged  to  observe  this  rule,  as  he 
was  already  advanced  in  years,  and  as  there  was  a 
dispute  between  two  of  his  sons  on  the  subject  of  suc- 
ceeding to  the  empire  which  might  occasion  a  civil 
war  after  his  death,  if  he  left  it  undetermined.  Da- 
rius had  three  sons  by  his  first  wife,  the  daughter  of 
Gobryas,  all  three  born  before  their  father  came  to 
the  crown;  and  four  more  by  Atossa,  the  daughter  of 
Cyrus,  who  were  all  born  after  their  father's  acces- 
sion to  the  throne:  Artabazanes,  called  by  Justin  Ar- 
tamenes,  was  the  eldest  of  the  former,  and  Xerxrt 
of  the  latter.  Artabazanes  alleged  in  his  own  behalf, 
that,  as  he  was  the  eldest  of  all  the  brothers,  the  right 
of  succession,  according  to  the  custom  and  practice 
of  all  nations,  belonged  to  him  in  preference  to  the 
rest.  Xerxes's  argument  was,  that  as  he  was  the  son 
of  Darius  by  Atpssa,  the  daughter  of  Cyrus,  who 
founded  the  Persian  empire,  it  was  more  just  thit  the 
crown  of  Cyrus  should  devolve  upon  one  of  his  de- 
scendants, than  upon  one  that  was  not.  Demaratus, 
the  Spartan  king,  who  had  been  unjustly  deposed  by 
his  subjects,  and  was  at  that  time  in  exile  at  the  court 
of  Persia,  secretly  suggested  to  Xerxes  another  argu- 
iient  to  support  his  pretensions:  that  Artabazanes 
was  indeed  the  eldest  son  of  Darius,  but  he,  Xerxes, 
was  the  eldest  son  of  the  king;  and  therefore  Arta- 
bazanes being  born  when  his  father  was  but  a  private 
person,  all  he  could  pretend  to,  on  account  of  his  se- 
niority, was  only  to  inherit  his  private  estate  ;  but  that 
he,  Xerxes,  being  the  first-born  son  of  the  king,  had 
the  best  right  to  succeed  to  the  crown.  He  farther 
supported  this  argument  by  the  example  of  the  Lace- 
d.emonians,  who  admitted  none  to  inherit  the  king- 
dom but  those  children  that  were  born  after  their 
father's  accession.  The  right  of  succession  was  ac- 
cordingly determined  in  favour  of  Xerxes. 

Justin  9  and  Plutarch  place  this  dispute  after  Dari- 
us's  decease.  They  both  take  notice  of  the  prudent 
conduct  of  these  two  brothers  in  a  point  of  so  much 
delicacy.  According  to  their  manner  of  relating  thit 
fact,  Artabazanes  was  absent  when  the  king  died; 
and  Xerxes  immedialely  assumed  all  the  marks,  and 
exercised  all  the  function*,  of  the  sovereignty.  But 
upon  his  brother's  return,  he  quitted  the  diadem  and 
the  tiara,  which  he  wore  in  such  a  manner  as  only 
suited  the  kinir,  went  out  to  meet  bin?,  and  showed 
him  all  imaginable  respect.  They  agreed  to  make 
their  uncle  Artabanes  the  arbitrator  of  their  differ- 
ence, and  without  any  farther  appeal  to  acquiesce  in 
his  decision.10  All  the  while  this  dispute  lasted,  the 


'  Lir.  Ti.  c.  2.  •  Herod.  ..  >I.  :   i  3. 

•  Justin   I.  ii.  r.  10.     Plot,  de  frat.  amore,  p.  **. 

">  Aiii-o  Crnurpa  contentio  t'uit.  ul  nor.  victor  insultnrerit. 
nee  victai  d.,luerii  ;  ipsotgue  liti.«  temporo  invirem  mun«r« 
mi»erin  /ftcundn  quiiquo  inter  se  non  »»li)m.  sod  credthl 
convivia  !mh:.crim  ;  juHicium  qnofjuf  ipsum  sine  arhiiri*, 
»inir  ciinviiiu  fucrit.  Tantd  moderatiui"  turn  fralres  int-r  M 
r.r.  m.-.xima  dividebant,  quam  runic  exigua  pnirroofw 
partiunlur  Jutti* 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS 


247 


•wo  broth* r«  showed  one  anotner  all  the  demonstra- 
tions of  a  truly  fraternal  friendship,  by  keeping  up  a 
continual  intercourse  of  presents  and  entertainments, 
from  whence  their  mutual  esteem  and  confidence  for 
each  other  banished  all  fears  and  suspicions  on  both 
•ides,  and  introduced  an  unconstrained  cheerfulness 
anil  a  perfect  security.  This  is  a  spectacle,  says  Jus- 
tin, highly  wortny  of  our  admiration;  to  see,  whiUt 
uio-t  brothers  are  at  daggers-drawing  with  one  an- 
other about  a  small  patrimony,  with  what  moderation 
and  temper  both  waited  lor  a  decision,  winch  was  tu 
dispose  of  the  greatest  empire  then  in  the  universe. 
When  Artabanes  gave  judgment  in  favour  of  Xerxes, 
Artabazanes  in  the  SHme  instant  prostrated  himself 
Before  him,  acknowledged  him  for  his  master,  and 
placed  him  upon  the  throne  with  his  own  hand;  by 
which  proceeding  he  showed  a  greatness  of  soul  truly 
royal,  and  infiiiitrly  superior  to  all  human  dignities. 
This  ready  acquiescence  in  a  sentence  so  contrary  to 
his  intf  rtsts.  was  not  the  effect  of  an  artful  poficy, 
that  knows  how  to  dissemble  upon  occasion,  and  to 
derive  honour  to  itself  from  what  it  could  not  prevent: 
no;  it  proceeded  from  d  real  respect  for  the  laws,  a 
sincere  affection  for  his  brother,  and  an  indifference 
for  tint  which  so  warn.lx  inflames  the  ambition  of 
mankind,  and  so  frequently  arms  the  nearest  relations 
•gainst  each  other.  For  his  part,  during  his  whole 
life,  he  continued  firmly  attached  to  the  interests  of 
Xerxes,  and  prosecuted  them  with  so  much  ardour 
and  zeal,  that  he  lost  his  life  in  his  service  at  the  bat- 
tie  of  Salamis. 

To  whatever  time  this  dispute  is  to  be  placed,1  it 
is  certain  that  Darius  could  not  carry  into  execution 
the  double  expedition  he  was  meditating  against 
Egypt  an;l  Greece,  and  that  he  was  prevented  by 
detilh  from  pursuing  that  project.  He  had  reigned 
thirt\->ix  years.  The  epitaph*  of  this  prince,  which 
contains  a  boast  that  he  could  drink  much  without 
;i_-  ),'<  teasoii.  proves  that  the  Persians  ac- 
tually thought  that  circumstance  for  their  glory.  \Ve 
shall  see  in  the  sequel,  that  Cyrus  the  Younger  as- 
cribes this  quality  to  himself,  as  a  perfection  that  ren- 
dered him  more  worthy  of  the  throne  than  his  elder 
brother.  Who  in  these  times  would  think  of  annex- 
ing this  merit  to  the  qualifications  of  a  good  prince? 

Darius  had  many  excellent  qualities,  but  they  were 
•tten  ,!ed  with  great  failings:  and  the  kingdom  felt 
the  effects  both  oi  the  one  and  the  other.  For  such 
is  the  condition  of  princes,*  that  they  never  act  nor- 
five  for  themselves  ak.ie.  Whatever  they  do.  either 
»«  to  £o<J(i  or  evil,  they  do  it  for  their  people;  and 
the  interests  of  the  one  a.id  the  other  are  inseparable. 
Darius  had  a  great  fund  of  gentleness,  equity,  cle- 
niencv,  and  kindness  for  his  people:  he  loved  justice, 
and  rt'-pccted  the  laws:  he  esteemed  merit,  and  was 
careful  to  reward  it:  he  wns  not  jealous  of  his  rank 
or  authority,  so  as  to  exact  a  forced  homage,  or  to 
render  himself  inaccessible;  and  notwithstanding  his 
own  u're-it  experience  and  abilities  in  public  affairs, 
no  would  hearken  to  the  advice  of  others,  and  reap 
the  benefit  of  their  counsels.  It  is  of  him  the  Holy 
Scripture  t  speaks,  where  it  says,  that  he  did  nothing 
without  consulting  the  wise  men  of  hi«  court.  He,  was 
not  afraid  of  ex|K>sing  his  person  in  battle,  and  was 
always  root  even  in  the  heat  of  action:  he  said  of 
him*'  If,5  that  the  most  imminent  and  urgent  danger 
served  only  to  increase  his  courage  and  his  prudence. 
In  a  uord,  there  have  been  few  princes  more  expert 
than  he  in  the  art  of  governing1,  or  more  experienced 
in  the  business  of  war.  Nor  was  the  glory  of  b»ing 
•  conqueror,  if  indeed  it  be  glory,  wanting  to  his  cha- 
racter. For  he  not  only  restored  and  entirely  con- 
firmed the  empire  of  C\  ru«,  which  had  been  very  much 
shaken  by  the  ill  conduct  of  Camhyses  and  the  Ma- 
ginn  impostor:  but  he  likewise  added  many  great  and 
rich  provinces  to  it,  and  particularly  India,  Thrace, 


H-rrxi.  I.  vi.  r.4. 


«»•  ,  .       A  thm.  1   x.  p.  4?4. 

>   ltn  nnti  Putin,  ill  (mm  malaque  rostra   ad    remp.  pcrti- 
•fiin       Tarit.  I    ir   f..  8. 

«  R*th.  i.  13.  •  Hut.  in  Apoph.  p.  179 


Macedonia,  and  the  isles  contiguous  to  the  coasts  of 
Ionia. 

But  sometimes  these  good  qualities  of  his  gave  war 
to  the  failings  of  a  quite  opposite  nature.  Do  we  see 
any  thing  like  Darius's  usual  gentleness  an  1  good  na- 
ture in  his  treatment  of  that  unfortunate  father,  who 
desired  the  favour  of  him  to  leave  him  one  of  his 
three  sons  at  home,  while  the  other  two  followed  the 
king  in  his  expedition?  Was  there  ever  an  occasion 
wherein  he  had  more  need  of  counsel,  than  when  he 
formed  the  design  of  making  war  upon  the  Scythians? 
And  could  any  one  give  more  prudent  advice  than 
what  his  brothtrgave  him  upon  that  occasion?  }5ut 
he  would  not  follow  it.  Does  there  appear  in  that 
whole  expedition  any  mark  of  wisdom  or  prudence? 
What  do  we  see  in  all  that  affair,  but  a  prince  intoxi- 
cated with  his  greatness,  who  fancied  there  is  nothing 
in  the  world  that  can  resist  him;  and  whose  weak 
ambition  to  signalize  himself  by  an  extraordinary  coo- 
quest,  had  stilled  all  the  good  sense,  judgment,  and 
even  military  knowledge,  he  formerly  displayed? 

What  constitutes  the  solid  glory  of  Darius's  reign 
is,  his  being  chosen  by  God  himself,  as  Cyrus  had 
been  before,  to  be  the  instrument  of  his  mercies  to- 
wards his  people,  the  declared  protector  of  the  Israel- 
ites, and  the  restorer  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  The 
reader  may  see  this  part  of  history  in  the  book  of  Ei- 
ra,  and  in  the  writings  of  the  prophets  Haggai  aud 
Zechariah. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   HISTORY  OF  XERXES,  CONNECTED  WITH  THAT 
OF  THE   GREEKS. 

XERXES'S  reign  lasted  but  twelve  years,  but  it 
abounds  with  great  events. 

SECTION  I.— XERXES,  AFTER  HAVING  REDUCED 
EGYPT,  MAKES  PREPARATIONS  FOR  CARRYING 
THE  WAR  INTO  GREECE.  HE  HOLDS  A  COUNCIL. 
THE  PRUDENT  SPEECH  OF  ARTABANES.  WAR  18 
RESOLVED  UPON. 

XERXES    having    ascended    the 
throne,8  employed  the  first  year  of  A.  M.  3519. 

his  reign  in  carrying  on  the  prepa-  Ant.  J.  C.  485. 
rations  begun  by  his  father,  for  the 
reduction  "of  Egypt.  He  also  confirmed  to  the  Jews 
at  Jerusalem  all  the  privilege*  granted  them  by  hi* 
father,  and  particularly  that  which  assigned  to  them 
the  tribute  of  Samaria,  for  the  supplying  theui  with 
victims  for  the  service  of  the  temple  of  God. 

In  the  second  year  of  his  reign  T 
he  marched  against  the  Egyptians,  A.  M.  3520. 

and   having  defeated  and  subdued       Ant.  J.  C.  434. 
those  rebels,  he  made  the  yoke  of 
their  subjection  more  heavy;  then  giving  the  govern- 
ment of  that  province  to   his  brother  Acha?menes,  he 
returned  about  the  latter  end  of  the  year  to  Susa. 

Herodotus,8  the  famous  historian,  was  born  this 
same  year  at  Halicarnassus  in  Caria.  For  he  was 
fifty-three  years  old  when  the  Peloponnesian  war  first 
began. 

Xerxes,*  puffed  up  with  his  suc- 
cess against  the  Egyptians,  deter-  A.  M.  3521 
mined  to  make  war  against  the  Gre-  Ant.  J.  C.  483. 
cians.  (He  did  not  intend,10  he 
said,  to  hare  the  fig?  of  Attica,  which  were  very  ex- 
cellent, bought  for  him  any  longer,  because  he  would 
eat  no  more  of  them  till  he  was  master  of  the  country.) 
But  before  he  engaged  in  an  enterprise  of  that  impor- 
tance, he  thought  proper  to  assemble  his  council,  "ad 
take  the  advice  of  all  the  greatest  and  most  illustrious 
persons  of  his  court.  He  laid  before  them  the  design 
he  had  of  making  war  against  Greece,  and  acquaint- 
ed them  with  his  motives;  which  were,  the  desire  of 
imitating  the  example  of  his  predecessors,  who  hwJ 
all  of  them  distinguished  their  names  and  reign*. ijr 


•  Herod  1.  vii.  c.  5.    Joseph  Anliq.  1.  xi.  c  5. 

i  Mrr.xl.  1.  tii.  c.  7.  •  Aul.  M.  1.  iv.  c.23. 

•  Herod.  1.  »ii.  e.  8— 18.     »•  Plut.  iu  Apoph.  p.  17* 


248 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


•ol>l«  enterprises;  the  obligation  he  was  under  to  re- 
venge iht  in-olctice  of  the  Athenians,  who  had  pre- 
suiueii  to  (all  upon  Sartlis,  and  reduce  it  to  ashes;  the 
neivs-iiy  he  was  under  to  avenge  the  disgrace  his 
country  had  received  at  the  battle  of  Marathon;  and 
the  prospect  of  the  great  advantages  that  might  be 
reaped  from  this  war,  which  would  be  attended  with 
the  conquest  of  Europe,  the  most  rich  and  fertile 
country  in  the  universe.  He  added  farther,  that  this 
war  had  been  resolved  on  by  his  father  Darius,  and 
consequently  that  he  only  followed  and  executed  his 
intentions;  he  concluded  with  promising  ample  re- 
wards to  those  who  should  distinguish  themselves  by 
their  valour  in  the  expedition. 

M  ir  louius,  the  same  person  who  had  been  so  un- 
successful in  Darius's  reign,  grown  neither  wiser  nor 
less  ambitious  by  his  ill  success,  and  extremely  anx- 
ious to  obtain  the  command  of  the  army,  was  the  first 
who  gave  his  opinion.  He  began  by  extolling  Xerxes 
above  all  the  kings  that  had  gone  before  or  should 
succeed  him.  He  endeavoured  to  show  the  indispen- 
sable necessity  ot  avenging  the  dishonour  done  to  the 
Persian  name:  he  disparaged  the  Grecians,  and  re- 
presented them  as  a  cowardly,  timorous  people,  with- 
out courage,  without  forces,  or  experience  in  war. 
For  a  proof  of  what  he  said,  he  mentioned  his  own 
conquest  of  Macedonia,  which  he  exaggerated  in  a 
very  vain  and  ostentatious  manner,  as  if  that  people 
hail  submitted  to  him  without  any  resistance.  He 
presumed  even  to  affirm,  that  not  any  of  the  Grecian 
nations  would  venture  to  come  out  against  Xerxes, 
who  would  inarch  with  all  the  forces  of  Asia;  and 
that  if  they  had  the  temerity  to  present  themselves 
before  him,  they  would  learn  to  their  cost,  that  the 
Persians  were  the  bravest  and  most  warlike  nation  in 
the  world. 

The  rest  of  the  council,  perceiving  that  this  flatter- 
,.ig  discourse  was  extremely  agreeable  to  the  kins:, 
were  afraid  to  contradict  it,  and  all  kept  silence.  This 
was  almost  an  unavoidable  consequence  of  Xerxes 's 
manner  of  proceeding.  A  wise  prince,  when  he  pro- 
poses an  affair  in  council,  and  really  desires  that  every 
one  should  speak  his  true  sentiments,  is  extremely 
careful  to  conceal  his  own  opinion,  that  he  may  put 
no  constraint  upon  that  of  others,  but  leave  them  en- 
tirely at  liberty.  Xerxes,  on  the  contrary,  had  open- 
ly discovered  his  own  inclination,  or  rather  resolu- 
tion, to  undertake  the  war.  When  a  prince  acts  in 
this  manner,  he  will  always  find  artful  flatterers,  who, 
being  eager  to  insinuate  themselves  into  favour  and 
to  please,  and  ever  ready  to  comply  with  his  incl'rna- 
tions,  will  not  fail  to  second  his  opinion  with  specious 
and  plausible  reasons;  whilst  those  that  would  be  ca- 
pable of  giving  good  counsel  are  restrained  by  fear; 
there  being  very  few  courtiers  who  love  their  prince 
well  enough,  and  have  sufficient  courage  to  venture 
to  displease  him  by  disputing  what  they  know  to  be 
his  taste  or  opinion. 

The  excessive  praises  given  by  Mardonius  to 
Xerxes,  which  is  the  usual  language  of  flatterers, 
ought  to  have  made  the  king  distrust  him,  and  appre- 
hend, that  under  an  appearance  of  zeal  for  his  glory, 
that  nobleman  endeavoured  to  cloak  his  own  ambi- 
tion, and  the  violent  desire  he  had  to  command  the 
army.  But  these  sweet  and  flattering  words,  which 
glide  like  a  serpent  under  flowers,  are  so  far  from 
displeasing  princes,  that  they  captivate  and  charm 
them.  They  do  not  consider  that  men  flatter  and 
praise  them,  because  they  believe  them  weak  and 
rain  enough  to  softer  themselves  to  be  deceived  bv 
commendation*  that  bear  no  proportion  to  their  merit 
and  action*. 

This  behaviour  of  the  king  made  the  whole  council 
mute.  In  the  general  silence,  Artabanes,  the  king's 
uncle,  a  prince  very  venerable  for  his  age  and  pru- 
dence, had  the  courage  to  make  the  following  speech : 
"  Permit  me,  great  prince,"  says  he,  addressing  him- 
self to  Xerxes,  "  to  deliver  mv  sentiments  to  you  on 
this  occasion  with  a  liberty  suitable  to  mv  age  and  to 
your  interest.  When  Darius  your  fattier,  and  my 
brother,  first  thought  of  making  war  against  the  Scy- 
thians, I  used  all  my  endeavours  to  divert  him  from 
L  I  upeu  not  tell  you  what  that  enterprise  cost,  or 


what  was  the  success  of  it.  The  pe-^yje  you  are  to 
ing  to  attack  are  infinitely  more  formidable  than  the 
Scythians.  The  Grecians  are  esteemed  the  very  best 
troops  in  the  world,  either  by  land  or  sea.  If  the 
Athenians  alone  were  able  to  defeat  the  numerous 
army  commanded  by  Datis  and  Artaphernes,  what 
ought  we  to  expect  from  all  the  states  of  Greece  uni- 
ted together?  You  design  to  pass  from  Asia  into  Eu- 
rope, bv  laying  a  bridge  over  the  sea.  And  wliat  will 
become"  of  us,  if  the  Athenians,  proving  victorious, 
should  advance  to  this  bridge  with  their  fleet,  and 
break  it  down?  I  still  tremble  when  I  consider,  that 
in  the  Scythian  expedition,  the  life  of  the  king,  your 
father,  and  the  safety  of  all  his  army,  were  reduced 
to  depend  upon  the  fidelity  of  one  single  man;  and 
that  if  Hvstizeus  the  Milesian  had,  in  compliance  with 
the  urgent  suggestions  made  to  him,  consented  to 
break  down  the  bridge  which  had  been  laid  over  the 
Danube,  the  Persian  empire  had  been  entirely  ruin- 
ed. Do  not  expose  yourself,  sir,  to  the  like  danger, 
especially  since  you  are  not  obliged  to  do  it.  Take 
time  at  least  to  reflect  upon  it.  When  we  have  ma- 
turely deliberated  upon  an  affair,  whatever  happens 
to  be  the  success  of  it,  we  have  no  blame  to  impute 
to  ourselves.  Precipitation  besides  its  being  impru 
dent,  is  almost  always  unfortunate,  and  attended  with 
fatal  consequences.  Above  all,  do  not  sufler  your- 
self, great  prince,  to  be  dazzled  with  the  vain  splen 
dour  of  imaginary  glory,  or  with  the  pompous  ap- 
pearance of  your  troops.  The  highest  and  most  lofty 
trees  have  the  most  reason  to  dread  the  thunder.  A» 
God  alone  is  truly  great,  he  is  an  enemy  to  pride,' 
and  takes  pleasure  in  humbling  every  thing  that  ex- 
alteth  itself:  and  very  often  the  most  numerous  arm- 
ies fly  before  a  handful  of  men,  because  he  inspires 
the  one  with  courage,  and  scatters  terror  among  the 
otheri." 

Artabanes,  after  having  spoken  thus  to  the  king, 
turned  himself  towards  Mardonius,  and  reproached 
him  with  his  want  of  sincerity  or  judgment,  in  giving 
the  king  a  notion  of  the  Grecians  so  directly  contra- 
ry to  truth  ;  and  showed  how  extremely  he  was  to 
blame  for  desiring  rashly  to  engage  the  nation  in  a 
war.  which  nothing  but  his  own  views  of  interest  and 
ambition  could  tempt  him  to  advise.  "  If  a  war  be 
resolved  upon,"  added  he,  "let  the  king,  -vhose  life 
is  dear  to  us  all,  remain  in  Persia;  and  do  you,  since 
you  so  ardently  desire  it,  march  at  the  head  of  the 
most  numerous  army  that  can  be  assembled.  In  the 
mean  time,  let  your  children  and  mine  be  given  up  as 
a  pledge,  to  answer  for  the  success  of  the  war.  If 
the  issue  of  it  be  favourable,  I  consent  that  mine  be 
put  to  death  :2  but  if  it  prove  otherwise,  as  I  well  fore 
see  it  will,  then  I  desire  that  your  children,  and  you 
yourself,  on  your  return,  may  be  treated  in  snch  a 
manner  as  you  deserve,  for  the  rash  counsel  you  have 
given  your  master." 

Xerxes,  who  was  not  accustomed  to  have  his  sen- 
timents contradicted  in  this  manner,  fell  into  a  rage 
"  Thank  the  gods,"  says  he  to  Artabanes,  "  that  you 
are  mv  father's  brother:  were  it  not  for  that,  you 
shoul:f  this  moment  suffer  the  just  reward  of  your 
audacious  behaviour.  But  I  will  punish  you  for  it  in 
another  manner,  by  leaving  you  here  among  the  wo- 
men, whom  you  tio  much  resemble  in  your  coward- 
ice and  fear,  whilst  I  march  at  the  head  of  my  troops. 
where  my  duty  and  elory  call  me." 

Artabanes  had  expressed  his  sentiments  in  very- 
respectful  and  moderate  terms:  Xerxes  nevertheless 
was  extremely  offended.  It  is  the  misfortune  of 
princes,3  spoiled  by  flattery,  to  look  upon  every  thin°r 
as  dry  and  austere,  that  is  sincere  and  ingenuous,  and 
to  regard  all  counsel  delivered  with  a  generous  and 
disinterested  freedom,  as  a  seditious  presumption 
They  do  not  consider  that  even  a  good  man  nevej 
'dares  to  tell  them  all  he  thinks,  nnr  discover  th« 


*  Why  should  the  chililron  be  punithed  for  their  fathnr'i 
OiultiT 

>  tin  formalin  prinripum  anrihus.  at  a*ppn  qu*  ntilia. 
nrr  (juirnuam  nisi  jucundum  et  la-turn  arrijiiant.-  Tktii 
Hist  \.  iii.  c.  SO 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


wnofe  trutn,  especially  in  things  that  may  be  disagree- 
able to  them;  and  that  what  they  stand  most  in  need 
of,  is  a  sincere  and  faithful  frie'nd  that  will  conceal 
nothing  from  them.  A  prince  ought  to  think  himself 
vcty  happy,  it  in  his  whole,  reign  he  finds  but  one  man 
born  with  that  degree  of  generosity  who  certainly 
onir'it  to  be  considered  as  the  most  valuable  treasure 
of  the  state,  as  he  is,  if  the  expression  may  be  admit- 
ted, both  the  most  necessary,  and  at  the  «ame  time 
the  most  rare  instrument  of  government.1 

Xerxes  himself  acknowledged  this  upon  the  occa- 
sion we  are  speaking  of.  When  the  first  emotions  of 
his  tinker  were  over,  and  he  had  time  to  reflect  on 
his  pillow  upon  the  different  counsels  that  had  been 

fiven  him,  he  confessed  he  had  been  to  blame  to  give 
is  uncle  such  harsh  language,  and  was  not  ashamed 
to  confess  his  fault  the  next  day  in  open  counsel;  in- 
genuously owning,  that  the  heat  of  youth,  and  his 
want  of  experience,  had  made  him  negligent  in  pay- 
ing the  regard  due  to  a  prince  so  worthy  of  respect 
as.\rtnlianes,  both  for  his  age  and  wisdom:  and  r'e- 
clarin^  at  the  same  time,  that  he  was  come  over  to  his 
opinion,  notwithstanding  adream  he  had  in  the  nisrht, 
wherein  a  phantom  had  appeared  to  him,  and  warm- 
ly exhorted  him  to  undertake  that  war.  All  who  com- 
posed the  council  were  delighted  to  hear  the  king 
speak  in  this  manner;  and  to  testify  their  jov,  they 
fell  prostrate  before  him,  striving:  who  shoul  1  mo«t 
extol  the  glory  of  such  «  proceeding;  nor  could  their 
praises  on  such  an  occasion  be  at  all  suspected.  For 
it  is  ni  hard  matter  to  discern,2  whether  the  praises 
given  to  princes  proceed  from  the  heart,  and  are 
fouivled  upon  truth,  or  whether  they  drop  from  the 
lips  only  a«  an  effect  of  mere  flattery  and  deceit.  That 
sincere  an-l  humiliating  acknowledgment  made  by 
the  king,  far  from  appearing  a  weakness  in  him,  wa« 
looked  upon  by  them  as  the  effort  of  a  great  soul, 
which  rises  above  its  faults,  in  bravelv  confessing 
them,  by  way  of  reparation  a  id  atonement.  They 
aomired  the  nobleness  of  (his  f  rocedurc  the  more,  as 
they  knew  that  princes  educated  like  Xerxes,  in  a  vain 
hausrhtinesg  and  faUe  glorv,  are  never  disposed  to 
own  themselves  in  the  wrong,  and  generally  make  use 
of  their  authority  to  justify,  with  pride  and  obstina- 
cy, whatever  faults  they  have  committed  through  ig- 
norance or  imprudence.  We  may  venture,  I  think, 
to  say.  that  it  is  more  glorious  to  rise  in  this  manne*, 
than  it  would  be  never  to  have  fallen.  Certainly  thtr* 
is  nothing  greater,  and  at  the  same  time  more  r>  . 
and  uncommon,  than  to  see  a  mighty  and  powc.iul 
prince,  and  that  in  the  time  o.f  his  greatest  prosperity, 
acknowledge  his  faults,  when"  he  happens  to  commit 
any.  without  seeking  pretexts  or  excuses  to  cover 
them:  pay  homage  to  truth,  even  when  it  is  against 
him  ar..l  condemns  him;  and  leave  other  princes,  who 
have  a  f:iUe  delicacy  concerning:  their  grandeur,  the 
shame  of  always  abounding:  with  errors  and  defects, 
and  of  never  owning  that  they  have  any. 

The  ni<rht  following,  the  same  phantom,  if  we  may 
believe  Herodotus,  appeared  aarain  to  the  king,  and 
repeater!  the  same  solicitations,  with  new  menaces  and 
threatening!.  Xerxes  communicated  what  passed  to 
his  uncle;  an-!,  in  order  to  find  out  whether  this  vis- 
ion proceeded  from  the  gods  or  not,  entreated  him 
earnestly  to  put  on  the  royal  robes,  to  ascend  the 
throne,  an-l  arterwards  to  take  his  place  in  his  bed  for 
that  night.  Artabanes  Keren r  ..,  discounted  very  sen- 
sibly and  rationally  with  the  kins:  upon  the  vanity  of 
dream*;  an'!  then  coming:  to  what  personally  regard- 
ed him,  "  I  look  upiu  it,"3  says  he.  "  almo«'e  equally 
Commendable  to  think  well  one's  self,  and  to  hearken 
with  dncilitv  to  the  good  counsels  of  others.  You 
have  both  these  qualities,  great  prince;  and  if  you 


'  Vnllum  maj.i«  h.mi  imnorii  intl; omentum  quatn  bones 
Smipm  Jnri..  Ifist  I.  iv.  r.  7. 

»  V'r  nrrulinrn  r»t  quandu  PX  vpritatp.  quandn  n4nni»ra- 
U  In-'iiia.  fnrtu  imppratorum  celehrantur.  Tnctt.  .Injial.  1. 
IT.  r.  T! 

•  T!ii«  ilioujht  if  in  Tlt-viml.  Opera  rt  ites.  ».  <W?.  Cio. 
pToriiiP'it.  n.  H4.  pt  Tit.  Liv.  1.  riii.  *.  Srrjie  e?o  an- 
A"i.  mi/F'f.«.  fim  tirt-num  use  rirttm.  qvi  ijife  eo»*v!at  qnid 
in  rr-,  --i  :  frniniiitm  e»m.  q*i  hrne  mfnrnti  nbr-linl  ;  71/1 
nrr  ,...-,-  ovju/ere,  nee  alteri  parert  geiat.  turn  eitrcmi  in- 

Voul.     "52 


follow  the  natural  bent  of  your  own  temper,  it  jvoula 
lead  you  solely  to  sentiments  of  wisdom  and  modera- 
tion. You  never  take  any  violent  measures  or  reso- 
lutions, but  when  the  arts  of  evil  counsellors  urge 
you  into  them,  or  the  poison  of  tt'  \  Ty  misleads  you 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  ocean,  of  itself  calm  and 
serene,  is  never  disturbed  but  by  the  extraneous 
impulse  of  other  bodies.  What  afticted  me  in  the 
answer  you  made  me  the  other  day,  when  I  delivered 
my  sentiments  freely  in  council,  was  not  the  personal 
affront  to  me,  but  the  injury  you  did  yourself,  by  ma- 
king so  wrong  a  choice  between  the  different  counsels 
that  were  ortered;  rejecting  that  which  led  you  to 
sentiments  of  moderation  and  equity;  and  embracing 
the  other,  which,  on  the  contrary,  tended  only  to 
nourish  pride,  and  to  inflame  ambition." 

Artabanes,  through  complaisance,  passed  the  night 
in  the  king's  bed,  and  had  the  same  vision  which 
Xerxes  had  before;  that  is,  in  his  sleep  he  saw  a  man, 
who  severely  reproached  him,  and  threatened  him 
with  the  greatest  misfortunes,  if  he  continued  to  op- 
pose the  king's  intentions.  This  so  much  affected 
him.  that  he  came  over  to  the  king's  first  opmion,be- 
lievin"  that  there  was  something  divine  in  these  re- 
peated visions;  and  the  war  against  the  Grecians  was 
resolved  upon.  These  circumstances  I  relate  here  as 
I  find  them  in  Herodotus. 

Xerxes  in  the  sequH  did  but  ill  support  this  char- 
acter of  moderation.  We  shall  find  in  him  only  tran- 
sient rays  of  wisdom  and  reason,  which  shine  forth 
but  for  a  moment,  and  then  give  way  to  the  most 
culpable  and  extravagant  excesses.  We  may  judge, 
however,  even  from  thence,  that  he  had  very  good 
natural  parts  and  inclinations.  But  the  most  excel- 
lent qualities  are  soon  spoiled  and  corrupted  by  the 
poison  of  flattery,  and  the  possession  ot  absolute  and 
unlimited  power:  l~i  dominationis  convulsits.* 

It  is  a  fine  sentiment  in  a  minister  of  slate,  to  be 
less  affected  with  an  affront  to  himself,  than  with  the 
wrong  done  his  master  by  giving  him  evil  and  perm 
cious  counsel. 

Mardonius's  counsel  was  pernicious;  because,  as 
Artabanes  observes,  it  tended  only  to  nourish  and  in- 
crease that  spirit  of  haughtiness  and  violence  in  the 
prince,  which  was  but  too  prevalent  in  him  already, 
vfftt  »«£»»«•*{;  and  *  because  it  disposed  and  accu»- 
cmed  his  mind  still  to  carry  his  views  and  desires 
beyond  his  present  fortune,  still  to  be  aiming  at  some- 
thing farther,  and  to  set  no  bounds  to  his  ambition. 
This6  is  the  predominant  passion  of  those  men  whom 
we  usually  call  conquerors,  and  whom,  according  to 
the  language  of  the  Holy  Scripture,  we  might  call 
with  great  propriety  robben  nf  nations  7  If  you  con- 
sider and  examine  the  whole  race  of  Persian  kings, 
says  Seneca,  will  you  find  any  one  of  them  that  evei 
stopped  his  career  of  his  own  accord;  that  was  ever 
satisfied  with  his  past  conquests;  or  that  was  not 
forming  some  new  projector  enterprise,  when  death 
surprised  him?  Nor  ought  we  to  be  a«toni*hed  at 
?uch  a  disposition,  adds  the  same  author:  for  ambi 
tion  is  a  gulf  and  a  bottomless  abyss,  wherein  every 
thing  is  lost  that  is  thrown  in,  and  where,  though  you 
were  to  heap  province  ti|>on  province,  and  kingdom 
upon  kingdom,  you  would  never  be  able  to  fill  up  the 
mighty  void. 

SF.CTION   II.— XERXES   BEGINS  HIS  MARCH.  AND 
PASSES    FROM    ASIA    INTO   EUROPE,   BY    CROSSING 
THE     STRAITS     OF     THE     HELLESPONT     UPON    A 
BRIDGE   OF    BOATS. 
THE  war  being  resolved    upon,  A.  M.  3523 

Xerxes,  that  he  might  omit  nothing      Aut.  J.  C.  481. 


Tsrit. 


.        .  ,. 

•  Ncc  hoc  Alexamlri  tantum  ritium  fuit.  quern  |-r  I.iho- 


i   in      lifJDA  UllCrlU*  pr.~  *  ..• ^--».... 

finiprit?  Nw  id  mirum  e*t.  (Juirquid  rupi<lii«ti 
cunlisit,  penilni  hnnritar  et  nondilur  :  m>c  interest  quan- 
tum MI  nuod  inexplebile  est,  conirerar  Senec.  1.  vii.  dt  *«- 
nef.  c.  3.  i  Jer.  IT  "» 


250 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


which  cculd  contribute  to  the  success"  of  his  under- 
taking, entered  into  a  confederacy  with  the  Cartha- 
ginians, who  were  at  that  time  the  most  potent  people 
of  the  West,  and  made  an  agreement  wilh  them,  that 
whilst  the  Persian  forces  should  attack  Greece,  the 
Carthaginians  should  fall  upon  the  Grecian  colonies 
that  were  settled  in  Sicily  and  Italy,  in  order  to  hin- 
der them  from  coming  to  the  aid  of  the  other  Gre- 
cians. The  Carthaginians  made  Amilcar  their  general, 
who  did  not  content  himself  with  raising  us  manv 
troops  as  he  could  in  Africa,  but  with  the  money  that 
Xerxes  had  sent  them,  engaged  a  great  number  of  sol- 
diers out  of  Spain,  Gaul,  and  Italy,  in  his  service;  so 
that  he  collected  an  army  of  300,000  men,  and  a  pro- 
portionate number  of  ships,  in  order  to  execute  the 
projects  and  stipulations  of  the  league. 

Thus  Xerxes,  agreeably  to  the  prophet  Daniel's  ' 
prediction,  having  through  his  great  power  nnd  his 
great  riches  stirred  up  all  the  nations  of  the  then 
known  world  against  (he  realm  of  Greece,  that  is  to 
»ay,  of  all  the  west  under  the  command  of  Amilcar, 
and  of  all  the  east  under  his  own  banner,  set  out  from 
Susa,1  in  order  to  enter  upon  this  war,  in  the  fifth 
vear  of  his  reign,  which  was  the  tenth  after  the  battle 
cf  Marathon,  and  marched  towards  Sartlis,  the  place 
of  rendezvous  for  the  whole  armv,  whilst  the  fleet  a  1- 
ranced  along  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  towards  the 
Hellespont. 

Xerxes3  had  given  orders  to  have  a  passage  cut 
through  mount  Athos.  This  is  a  mountain  in  Mace- 
donia, a  province  of  Turkey  in  Europe,  which  extehd* 
a  great  way  into  the  Archipelago,  in  the  form  of  a 
peninsula.  It  is  joined  to  the  land  only  by  an  isth- 
mus of  about  half  a  league  over.  We  have  already 
taken  notice,  that  the  sea  in  this  place  was  very 
tempestuous,  and  occasioned  frequent  shipwrecks. 
Xerxes  made  this  his  pretext  for  the  orders  he  gave 
for  culling  through  the  mountain:  but  the  true  reason 
was  the  vanity  of  signalizing  himself  by  an  extraordi- 
nary enterprise,  and  by  doing  a  thing  that  was  ex- 
tremely difficult;  as  Tacitus  says  of  Nero,  Erat  in- 
credibilium  ciipitor.  Accordingly  Herodotus  ob- 
serves, that  this  undertaking  was  more  vain-glorious 
than  useful,  since  he  might  with  less  trouble  and  ex- 
pense have  had  his  vessels  carried  over  the  isthmus, 
as  was  the  practice  in  those  days.  The  passage  he 
caused  to  be  cut  through  the  mountain  was  broad 
enough  to  let  two  galleys  with  three  banks  of  oars 
each  pass  through  it  abreast.  This  prince/  who  was 
extravagant  enough  to  believe,  that  all  nature  and  the 
very  elements  were  under  his  command,  in  conse- 
quence of  that  opinion,  wrote  a  letter  to  mount 
Athos  in  the  following  term?:  "  Athos,  tho'u  proud 
and  aspiring  mountain,  that  liftest  up  thv  head  unto 
the  heavens,  I  advise  thee  not  to  be  so  audacious  as  to 
put  rocks  and  stone*,  which  cannot  be  cut,  in  the  way 
of  mv  workmen.  If  thou  givest  them  that  opposition, 
1  will  cut  thee  entirely  down,  and  throw  thee  head- 
long into  the  sea."  At  the  same  time*  he  ordered 
his  labourers  to  be  scourged,  in  order  to  make  them 
carry  on  the  work  the  faster. 

A  traveller  *  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Francis  the 
First,  and  who  wrote  a  book  in  Latin  concerning  the 
tingular  and  remarkable  things  he  had  seen  in  his 
travels,  doubts  the  truth  of  this  fact;  and  takes  no- 
tice, that  as  he  passed  near  mount  Athos,  he  could 
perceive  no  traces  of  the  work  we  hare  been  speak- 
ing of. 

Xerxes,7  as  we  hnve  already  related,  advanced  to- 
wards Sardis.  Having  left  Oappadocia,  and  passed 
the  river  Halys,  he  came  to  Celsenae.'a  city  of  Phry- 


i  Dan.  xi  2. 

*  Hi-nwl   I   vii.  r.  Of>.  «  Ibid.  c.  21,  24. 
«  Pint,  iln  im  oili i»>.  p.  455. 

*  Pint.  -I i.'  anim.  tranq.  p.  470. 

%  Bollnn  tinsul.  ri*r.  nbserv.  p.  78. 

*  Hrrcul.  i.  vii.  c.  215.  -v>. 


gia,  near  which  is  the  source  of  the  Mseamler.  Pf 
thius,  a  Lydian,  had  his  residence  in  this  city,  and 
next  to  Xerxes  was  the  most  opulent  prince  ol  those 
times.  He  entertained  Xerxes  and  his  whole  arm; 
with  an  incredible  magnificence,  and  made  him  an 
orter  of  all  his  wealth  towards  defraying  the  expenses 
of  his  expedition.  Xerxes  surprised  and  charmed  at 
so  generous  an  otter,  had  the  curiosity  to  inr|i]ire  to 
what  sum  his  riches  amounted.  P> thins  made  an- 
swer, that  with  the  design  of  ottering  them  to  his  ser- 
vice, he  had  taken  an  exact  account  of  them,  and  that 
the  silver  he  had  by  him  amounted  to  2000  talents' 
(which  make  6,000,"000  French  money;)  and  the  gold 
to  4,000,000  of  daricks,10  wanting  7000  (that  is  to  say 
to  40,000,000  of  livres,  wanting  70.000.  reckoning  teq 
livres  French  money  to  the  darick.)  All  this  money 
he  offered  him,  telling  him,  that  his  revenues  were 
5iitlicie.il  for  the  support  of  his  household.  Xerxej 
made  him  very  hearty  acknowledgments,  entered  into 
a  particular  friendship  with  him,  and  that  he  might 
not  be  outdone  in  generosity,  instead  of  accepting  hit 
otters,  obliged  him  to  accept  as  a  present  the  7000 
daricks,  which  were  wanting  to  make  up  his  gold  a 
round  sum  of  4,000.000. 

After  such  a  conduct  as  this,  who  would  not  think 
that  Pythius's"  peculiar  characteristic  and  particular 
virtue  had  been  generosity,  and  a  noble  contempt  of 
riches?  And  yet  he  was  one  of  the  most  penurioul 
princes  in  the  world;  and  who,  besides  his  sordid 
avarice  with  regard  to  himself,  was  extremely  cruel 
and  inhuman  to  his  subjects,  whom  he  kept  contin- 
ually employed  in  hard' and  fruitless  labour,  alwayl 
digging  in  the  gold  and  silver  mines,  which  he  had 
in  his  territories.  When  he  was  absent  from  home, 
his  subject?  went  with  tears  in  their  eyes  to  the  prin- 
cess his  wife,  laid  their  complaints  before  her,  and 
implored  her  assistance.  Commiserating  their  con- 
dition, she  made  use  of  a  very  extraordinary  method 
to  work  upon  her  husband, "and  to  give  hi'm  a  cleai 
notion  and  a  palpable  demonstration  of  the  folly  and 
injustice  of  his  conduct.  On  his  return  home  sh* 
ordered  an  entertainment  to  be  prepared  for  him,  verj 
magnificent  in  appearance,  but  what  in  reality  was  nc 
entertainment.  All  the  courses  and  services  were  of 
gold  and  silver:  and  the  prince,  in  the  midst  of  all 
these  rich  dishes  and  splendid  rarities,  could  not  sat- 
isfy his  hunger.  He  easily  divined  the  meaning  of 
this  enigma,  and  began  to  consider,  that  the  end  of 
gold  and  silver  was  not  merely  to  be  looked  upon,  but 
to  br.  employed  and  made  use  of,  and  that  to  neglect 
as  he  had  done,  the  business  of  husbandry  and  the 
tilling  of  land,  by  employing  all  his  people  in  digging 
an  I  wiirking  of  mine?,  was  the  direct  way  to  bring-  a 
famine  both  upon  himself  and  his  country.  For  the 
future,  therefore,  he  only  reserved  a  fifth  part  of  his 
people  for  the  business  of  mining.  Plutarch  has  pre- 
served this  fact  in  a  treatise,  wherein  he  ha?  colUcted 
a  great  manv  others  to  prove  the  ability  and  industry 
of  ladies.  We  have  the  same  disposition  of  mind  no- 
ticed in  fabulous  ?tory,  in  the  example  of  a  prince,1* 
who  reigned  in  this  very  country,  for  whom  every 
thing  that  he  touched  was  immediately  turned  into 
gold,  according  to  the  tfipirst  which  he  himself  had 
made  to  the  g-od?.  and  who  by  that  means  was  in  dan- 
ger of  perishing'  with  hung-er. 

The  sime  prince,18  who  had  made  such  obliging 
offers  to  Xerxes,  having  desired  as  a  favour  of  him 
some  time  afterwards,  that  out  of  his  five  sons  who 
served  in  hi?  army,  he  would  be  pleased  to  leave  him 
the  eldest,  in  order  to  be  a  support  nnd  comfort  to 
him  in  hi?  old  age;  the  kin-r  wa?  so  enrag-ed  at  the 
proposal,  though  »o  reasonable  in  itself,  that  he  caused 

of  the  younjer  Ovrun.  nml  n  riV«rrii>tion  of  its  sifo  hai  hetn 
piven  hv  Xonophon  in  thi>  Anabasis.  llon>  wn«  ihi*  ?ran4 
rendezvous  of  the  armv  rif  lh(>  prince,  who  slaved  hrre  no 
li>*<  id 'in  rC  iliiy*,  and  wa*  joined  hero  by  Clearohus  ao4 
3700  Orppkn. 

•   At-oiii  OS.1)  000'  ntfrlin?. 

>•  About  l.TnO.nOO;   sti'rlin?. 

>i  Plutan,.  «!!•>  him  Prthii.  Plut.  i)»  rirt  muliei.  p. 
202. 

'»  Midn*.  kin?  of  Dhrv?ia. 

>*  Herod.  I   »ii.  e.  38.  39.    Sen.  rte  >a, .  \f  «  17. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


251 


the  eldest  son  to  be  1/Iled  before  the  eyes  of  his 
father,  giving  him  to  understand,  that  it  was  a  favour 
that  lie  spared  the  lives  of  him  and  the  rest  of  his 
Children;  and  then  causing  the  dead  body  to  be  cut  in 
two,  and  one  part  to  be  placed  on  the  right,  and  the 
other  on  the  left,  he  made  the  whole  army  pass  be- 
tween them,  as  if  he  meant  to  purge  and  purify  it  by 
iuch  a  sacrifice.  What  a  monster  in  nature  is  a  prince 
of  this  kind!  How  is  it  possible  to  have  any  depen- 
dence upon  the  friendship  of  the  great,  or  to  rely  upon 
their  warmest  professions  and  protestations  ot  grati- 
tude and  service? 

From  Phrygia,1  Xerxes  marched  to  Sardis,  where 
be  spent  the  winter.  From  hence  he  sent  heralds  to 
til  the  cities  of  Greece,  except  Athens  and  Lacedas- 
mon,  to  require  them  to  giie  him  earlh  and  water, 
which  as  we  have  taken  notice  of  before,  was  the  way 
of  exacting  and  acknowledging  submission. 

As  soon  as  the  spring  of  the  year  came  on,  he  left 
Sardis,  and  directed  his  march  towards  the  Helles- 
pont. Being  arrived  there,2  he  wished  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  a  naval  engagement.  A  throne  was 
erected  for  him  upon  an  eminence;  and  in  that  situa- 
tion, seeing  all  the  sea  crowded  with  his  vessels,  and 
the  land  covered  with  his  troops,  he  at  first  ft  It  a  se- 
cret joy  diffuse  itself  through  his  soul,  in  surveying 
with  his  own  eves  the  vast  extent  of  his  power,  and 
considering  himself  as  the  most  happy  of  mortals;  but 
reflecting  soon  afterwards,  that  of  so  many  thousands 
in  a  hundred  years'  time  there  would  not  be  one  liv- 
ing soul  remaining,  his  joy  was  turned  into  grief,  and 
he  could  not  forbear  weeping  at  the  uncertainty  and 
instability  of  human  things.  He  might  have  found 
another  subject  of  reflection,  which  would  have  more 
justlv  merited  his  tears  and  affliction,  had  he  turned 
his  thoughts  upon  himself,  and  considered  the  re- 
proaches he  deserved  for  being  the  instrument  of 
ihortening  that  fatal  term  to  millions  of  people,  whom 
his  cruel  ambition  was  going  to  sacrifice  in  an  unjust 
and  unnecessary  war. 

Artrtbanes.  who  neglected  no  opportunity  of  ma- 
king himself  useful  to  the  young  prince,  and  of  instil- 
ling into  him  sentiments  of  goodness  for  his  people, 
took  advantage  of  this  moment  in  which  he  found  him 
touched  with  a  sense  of  tenderness  and  humanity, 
and  led  him  into  farther  reflections  upon  the  miseries 
with  which  the  lives  of  mo<t  men  are  attended,  and 
which  render  them  s<>  painful  and  unhappy;  endea- 
vouring at  the  same  time  to  make  him  sensible  of  the 
duty  and  obligation  of  princes,  who,  not  being  able 
to  prolong  the  natural  life  of  their  subjects,  ought  at 
least  to  do  nil  that  lies  in  their  power  to  alleviate  the 
troubles  and  allay  the  bitterness  of  it. 

In  the  same  conversation  Xerxes  asked  his  uncle  if 
he  still  persisted  in  his  first  opinion,  and  if  he  would 
itill  advise  him  not  to  make  war  against  Greece,  sup- 
posing he  had  not  seen  the  vision,  which  occasioned 
him  to  change  his  sentiments.  Artabanes  owned  he 
still  had  his  fears;  and  that  he  was  very  uneasy  con- 
cerning two  things.  What  are  those  two  things?  re- 
plied Xerxes.  The  land  and  the  sea,  says  Artabanes: 
the  lanrl,  because  there  is  no  country  that  can  feed 
and  maintai.i  so  numerous  an  army;  the  sea,  because 
there  an,  no  ports  rapal-le  of  receiving  such  a  multi- 
tude of  vessels.  The.  king  was  very  sensible  of  the 
strength  of  this  reasoning:  but  as  it  was  now  too  late 
to  go  hack,  he  made  answer,  that  in  trreat  underta- 
kings, men  on<rht  not  so  narrowly  to  examine  all  the 
inconveniences  that  may  attend  them:  that  if  they 
did,  m  ?isrnal  enterprises  would  ever  be  attempted: 
and  <hat  if  his  predecessors  had  observed  so  scrupu- 
Ion-  mid  tiinorou-  a  rule  of  policy,  the  Pfr»inn  empire 
would  never  have  attained  its  present  height  of  great- 
ness and  iilory. 

Artalinnes  gave  the  king  another  piece  of  very  pru- 
dent advice,  which  he  no  more  thought  fit  to  follow 
than  he  had  the  former;  this  wan,  not  to  employ  the 
Ionian*  in  his  service  against  the  Grecians,  from 
whom  they  were  originally  descended,  and  on  which 
account  he  ought  to  suspect  their  fidelity.  Xerxes, 
however,  after  these  conversations  with  his  uncle, 


Uerud  L  vii.  c.  30 — 33. 


•  Ib.  c.  44.  40. 


treated  him  with  great  friendship.  ps.id  him  the  high- 
est marks  of  honour  and  respect,  sent  nim  hack  to 
Susa,  to  take  the  care  and  administration  of  the  rm- 
pire.  upon  him  during  his  own  absence,  and  to  that 
end  invested  him  with  his  whole  authority. 

Xerxes,*  at  a  vast  expense,  had  caused  a  bridge  of 
boats  to  be  built  upon  the  sea,  for  the  passage  of  his 
forces  from  Asia  into  Europe.  The  space  that  sepa- 
rates the  two  continents,  formerly  called  the  Helles- 
pont, and  now  called  the  straits  of  the  Dardanelles, 
or  of  Gallipoli,  is  seven  stadia  in  breadth,  which  is 
near  an  English  mile.  A  violent  storm  arose  on  a 
sudden  and  broke  down  the  bridge.  Xerxes  hearing 
this  news  on  his  arrival,  fell  into  a  transport  of  rage; 
and  in  order  to  avenge  himself  for  so  cruel  an  affront, 
commanded  two  pair  of  chains  to  be  thrown  into  the 
sea,  as  if  he  meant  to  shackle  and  confine  it,  and  his 
men  to  give  it  300  strokes  of  a  whip,  addressing  it  in 
this  manner:  "Thou  troublesome  and  unhappv  ele- 
ment, thus  does  thy  master  chastise  thee  for  having 
affronted  him  without  reason.  Know,  that  Xerxes 
will  easily  find  means  to  pas?  over  thy  waters,  in  spite 
of  all  thy  billows  and  resistance."  The  extravagance 
of  this  prince  did  not  stop  here:  but,  making  the  un- 
dertakers of  the  work  answerable  for  events  which 
do  not  in  the  least  depend  upon  the  power  of  man,  he 
ordered  all  those  persons  to  have  their  heads  struck 
off,  that  had  been  charged  with  the  direction  and 
management  of  that  undertaking. 

Xerxes4  commanded  two  other  bridges  to  be  built, 
one  for  the  army  to  pass  over,  and  the  other  for  the 
baggage  and  beasts  of  burden.  He  appointed  work- 
men more  able  and  expert  than  the  former,  who  went 
about  it  in  this  manner  : — they  placed  360  vessels 
across,  some  of  them  having  three  banks  of  oars,  and 
others  fifty  oars  apiece,  with  their  sides  turned  to- 
wards the  F.uxine  sea:  and  on  the  side  that  faced  tjie 
jEgean  sea,  they  put  314.  They  then  cast  large  an- 
chors into  the  water  on  both  sides,  in  order  to  fix  and 
secure  all  these  vessels  against  the  violence  of  the 
winds,  and  against  the  current  of  the  water.5  On  the 
east  side  they  left  three  passages  or  vacant  spaces  be- 
tween the  vessels,  that  there  might  be  room  for  small 
boats  to  go  and  come  easily,  as  there  was  occasion,  to 
and  from  the  F.uxine  sea.  After  this,  upon  the  land 
on  both  sides,  they  drove  large  piles  into  the  «arth, 
with  huge  rings  fastened  to  them,  to  which  were  tied 
six  vast  cables,  which  went  over  each  of  ihe  two 
bridges;  two  of  which  cables  were  made  of  hemp, 
and  four  of  a  sort  of  reeds  called  £<£*.««,  which  were 
made  use  of  in  those  times  for  the  making  of  cordage. 
Those  that  were  made  of  hemp  must  have  been  of  an 
extraordinary  strength  and  thickness,  since  every  cu- 
bit of  those  cables  weighed  a  talent.6  The  cables  laid 
over  the  whole  extent  of  the  vessels  lengthwise, 
reached  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  the  sea.  When 
this  part  of  the  work  was  finished,  quite  over  the 
vessels  from  side  to  side,  and  over  the  cables  we  have 
been  speaking  of,  they  laid  the  trunks  of  trees,  cut 
purposely  for  that  use,  and  planks  again  over  them, 
fastened  and  joined  together,  to  serve  as  a  kind  of 
floor  or  solid  bottom;  all  whirl)  they  covered  over 
with  earth,  and  added  rails  or  battlements  on  each 
side,  that  the  horses  and  cattle  might  not  be  frighten- 
ed at  seeing  the  sea  in  their  passage.  Thi*  was  the 
mode  of  constructing  those  famous  bridges  built  by 
Xerxes. 

When  the  whole  work  was  completed,  a  day  was 
apjwinted  for  their  passing  over.  And  as  soon  as  the 
first  rays  of  the  sun.  began  to  appear,  sweet  odours 
of  all  knids  were  abundantly  spread  over  both  of  (he 
bridges,  and  the  way  was  strewed  with  mvrtle.  At 
the  same  time  Xerxes  pourrd  out  libations  into  the 
sea,  and  turning  his  face  towards  the  sun,  the  princi- 
pal object  of  the  Persian  worship,  he  implored  the 

t  Hcrixl.  vii.  33—36.  «  Flerrxi.  1.  irii.  c.  :tfi 

t  I'nKliius  rrmnrl<«,  ihnt  there  is  a  current  of  wnirr  from 

the  Inkc   Mentis  nnil   ihe  F.uxine  iwa    inlo  the  jf&ran  Km, 

occasioned  l>v  tlie  rivers  which  empty  thenwlvei  into  thoM 

two  was.     Pol.  I.  iv   p   3()7,  308. 

«  A  intent  in  weight  consisted  of  CO  mins>.  thnt    is  to  «y 

of  40  pounds  of  our  weight;  anil  the  mina  consisted  of  1M 

drachms. 


252 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


assistance  of  that  god  in  the  enterprise  he  had  under- 
taken, anil  desired  the  continuance  of  his  protection 
t:!!  he  dad  made  the  entire  conquest  of  F.urope,  and 
had  brought  it  into  subjection  to  his  power;  this  done, 
he  threw  the  vessel  which  he  had  used  in  making  his 
libations,  together  with  a  golden  cup  and  a  Persian 
iciniitur,  into  the  sea.  The  army  was  seven  day  sand 
seven  nights  in  passing  over  these  straits;  those  who 
were  appointed  to  conduct  the  march,  lashing  the  poor 
soldiers  all  the  while  with  whips,  in  order  to  quicken 
their  speed,  according  to  the  custom  of  that  nation, 
which,  properly  speaking,  was  only  a  huge  assembly 
of  slaves. 

SECTION  III. — ENUMERATION  OF  XERXES'S  FOR- 
CES. DEMARATUS  DELIVERS  HIS  SENTIMENTS 
FREELY  UPON  THAT  PRINCE'S  ENTERPRISE. 

XERXES,'  directing  his  march  across  the  Thra- 
cian  Chersonesus,  arrived  at  Doriscus,  a  city  stand- 
ing at  the  mouth  of  the  Hebrus,  in  Thrace;  where, 
having  encamped  his  army,  and  given  orders  for  his 
fleet  to  follow  him  along  the  shore,  he  reviewed  them 
both. 

He  found  the  land  army  which  he  had  brought  out 
of  Asia,  consisted  of  1,700,000  foot  and  80,000  horse, 
which,  with  20,000  men  that  were  absolutely  necessa- 
ry at  least  for  conducting  and  taking  care  of  the  car- 
riages and  the  camels,  made  in  all  1,800,000  men. 
When  he  had  passed  the  Hellespont,  the  nations  that 
submitted  to  him  made  an  addition  to  his  army  of 
300,000  men,  which  made  all  his  land  forces  together 
amount  to  2,100,000  men. 

His  Heel,  when  it  set  out  from  ^sia,  consisted  of 
1207  vessels  of  war,  all  of  three  banks  of  oars.  Each 
vessel  carried  200  men,  natives  of  the  country,  that 
fitted  them  out,  besides  thirty  more,  that  were  either 
Persians  or  Medes,  or  of  the  Sacae;  which  made  in 
all,  277,610  men.  The  European  nations  augmented 
his  fleet  with  120  vessels,  ea<ii  of  which  carried  200 
men;  in  all,  24,000;  these,  added  to  the  others, 
amounted  together  to  301,610  men. 

Besides  this  fleet,  which  consisted  all  of  large  ves- 
sels, the  small  galleys  of  thirty  and  fifty  oars,  the 
transport  ships,  the  vessels  that  carried  the  provisions, 
and  that  were  employed  in  other  uses,  amounted  to 
3000.  If  we  reckon  but  eighty  men  in  each  of  these 
Vessels,  one  with  another,  that  made  in  the  whole 
210.000  men. 

Thus,  when  Xerxes  arrived  at  Thermopylne,  his 
land  ami  sea  forces  together  made  up  the  number  of 
2,641,610  men,  without  including  servants,  eunuchs, 
women,  sutlers,  and  other  people  of  that  sort,  which 
usually  follow  an  army,  and  whose  number  at  this  time 
was  equal  to  that  of  the  forces:  so  that  the  whole 
number  of  those  that  followed  Xerxes  in  this  expe- 
dition, amounted  to  5,283.220.  This  is  the  computa- 
tion which  Herodotus  makes  of  them,  and  in  which 
Plutarch  and  Isocrates  agree  with  him.  Diodorus 
Siculns,  Pliny,  ./Elian,*  and  others,  fall  very  short  of 
this  number  in  their  calculation;  but  their  accounts 
of  the  matter  appear  to  be  less  authentic  than  that  of 
Hfro'lotns  who  lived  in  the  same  age  in  which  this 
expedition  was  made,  and  who  repeats  the  inscription 
engrave;!,  by  the  order  of  the  Amphictyons,  upon  the 
monument  of  those  Grecian?  who  were  killed  at  Ther- 
moin  1  >',  which  expressed  that  they  fought  against 
3,000,000  of  men. 

For  the  sustenance  of  all  these  persons,3  there  must 
be  every  day  consumed,  according  to  Herodotus's 
Computation,  above  110,340  medimni  of  flour  (the  me- 
dininii-  was  a  measure  which,  according  to  Budseus, 
was  equivalent  to  six  of  our  bushels,)  allowing  for 
every  head  the  quantity  of  a  choenix,  which  was  the 
daily  allowance  that  masters  gave  their  slaves  among 
the.  Grecians.  We  have  no  account  in  history  of  any 
other  army  to  numerous  as  tnis.  And  amonsrst  all 
these  millions  of  men,  there  is  not  one  that  could  vie 
with  Xerxes  in  point  of  beauty,  either  for  the  Cornell- 


i  n.-1-nH  1  vii.c.  5(5— 09.  1P4— 187. 

«  Him!,  '.  xi.  p.  3.    Plin.  1.  xxziii.  e    10.    ./Elian.  1.  xiii. 
e.3. 

Herod  ..  viu  e.  187. 


ness  of  his  face,  or  the  tallnrss  of  his  person.  But 
this  is  a  poor  merit  or  pre-eminence  fora  piince.  when 
attended  with  no  other.  Accordingly,  Justin,  after  ta 
has  mentioned  the  number  of  these  troops,  adds  that 
this  vast  body  of  forces  wanted  a  chief:  Huic  /onto 
agmini  dux  defnit. 

We  should  hardly  be  able  to  conceive  how  it  was 
possible  to  find  a  sufficient  quantity  of  provisions  fol 
such  an  immense  number  of  persons,  if  the  historian* 
had  not  informed  us,  that  Xerxes  had  employ  ed  four 
whole  years  hi  making  preparations  for  this  exptdi- 
tion.  We  have  seen  already  how  many  vessels  of 
burden  there  were,  that  coasted  along  continually  to 
attend  upon,  and  supply,  the  land  army;  and  doubt- 
less there  were  fresh  ones  arriving  every  dav,  thai 
furnished  the  camp  with  a  sufficient  plenty  of  all 
thing?  necessary. 

Herodotus*  acquaints  us  with  the  method  of  which 
they  made  use  to  calculate  these  forces,  which  were 
almost  innumerable.  They  assembled  10,000  men  In 
a  particular  place, and  ranked  them  as  close  together 
as  was  possible;  after  which  they  described  a  circle 
quite  round  them,  and  erected  a  little  wall  upon  that 
circle,  about  half  the  height  of  a  man's  body:  when 
this  was  done,  they  made  the  whole  army  successive- 
ly pass  through  this  space,  and  thereby  knew  to  what 
number  it  amounted. 

Herodotus  gives  us  also  a  particular  account  of  the 
different  armour  of  all  the  nations  that  constituted 
this  army.  Besides  the  generals  of  every  nation,  who 
each  of  them  commanded  the  troops  of  their  respec- 
tive country,  the  land  army  was  under  the  command 
of  six  Persian  generals;  viz.  IVfardonias,  the  son  of 
Gobryas;  Tirintatechmes,  the  son  of  Artabanes,  and 
Smerdones,  son  to  Otanes  both  near  relations  to  the 
king;  Masistes,  son  of  Darius  and  Atossa;  Gergis, 
son  of  Ariazes;  and  Megabyzus,  son  of  Zopyrus.  The 
10,000  Persians  who  were  called  the  Immortal  Band, 
were  commanded  by  Hydarnes.  The  cavalry  had  its 
particular  commanders. 

There  were  likewise  four  Persian  generals  who 
commanded  the  fleet.  In  Herodotus'  we  have  a 
particular  account  of  all  the  nations  by  which  it  was 
fitted  out.  Artemisia,  queen  of  Halicarnassus,  who 
since  the  death  of  her  husband  governed  the  kingdom 
for  her  son,  that  was  still  a  minor,  brought  hut  five 
vessels  along  with  her;  hut  they  were  the  best  equip- 
ped, and  the  lightest  ships  in  the  whole  Meet,  next  to 
those  of  the  Sidonians.  This  princess  distinguished 
herself  in  this  war  by  her  singular  courage,  and  still 
more  by  her  prudence  and  conduct.  Herodotus  ob- 
serves, that  among  all  the  commanders  in  the  army, 
there  was  not  one.  who  gave  Xerxes  so  good  advice 
and  such  wise  counsel  as  this  queen;  but  he  was  not 
prudf  nt  enough  to  profit  by  it. 

When  Xerxes  had  numbered  his  whole  forces  by 
land  and  sea,  he  asked  Demaratus  if  he  thought  the 
Grecians  would  dare  to  wait  for  him.  I  have  already 
taken  notice,  that  this  Demaratus  was  one  of  the  two 
kings  of  Sparta,  who  being  exiled  by  the  faction  of 
his  enemies,  had  taken  refuge  at  the  Persian  court, 
where  he  was  entertained  with  the  greatest  marks  of 
honour  and  beneficence.  As  the  courtiers  were  one 
day  expressing  their  surprise,7  that  a  kinsj  should 
suft'er  himself  to  be  banished,  and  desired  him  to  ac- 
quaint them  with  the  reason  of  it,  "  It  is,"  say*  he 
"  because  at  Sparta  the  law  is  more  powerful  than  the 
kings."  This  prince  was  very  much  esteemed  in 
Persia;  but  neither  the  injustice  of  the  Spartan  citi- 
zens, nor  the  kind  treatment  of  the  Persian  kin<r,  could 
make  him  forget  his  country.*  As  soon  as  he  knew 
that  Xerxes  was  making  preparations  for  the  war,  he 
found  means  to  give  the  Grecians  secret  intelligence 
of  it.  And  now,  being  obliged  on  this  occasion  to 
speak  his  sentiments,  he  did  it  with  such  a  noble  free- 
dom and  dignity,  as  became  a  Spartan,  and  a  king  of 
Sparta. 


Jta 


«  Herod.  I.  vii.  c.  20.' 

•  Urn]  c.  CO.  «  Ihid.  c  8!».  99. 
'  Plut.  in  Apoph.  Lacon.  p.  2-30. 

•  Amiciur  patriip  jxwt  fugam  quam  regi  post 
lin. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


253 


Demaratus,  1  before  he  answred  the  king's  ques-  ; 
(ion,  desired  to  know  whether  it  was  his  pleasure  that 
be  should  flutter  him,  or  that  he  should  speak  tin 
thoughts  to  him  freely  and  sincerely.  Xerxes  having 
declared,  that  he  desired  him  to  act  with  the  utmo«t 
sincerity,  "Great  prince,"  says  Demaratus,  "since 
it  is  agreeable  to  your  pleasure  and  commands,  I  shall 
deliver  my  sentiments  to  you  with  the  utmost  truth 
UK!  sincerity.  It  must  be  confessed,  that  from  the 
beginning  of  time  Greece  has  been  trained  up  and  ac- 
customed to  poverty;  but  then  she  has  introduced 
•nd  established  virtue  within  her  territories,  which 
wisdom  cultivates,  and  the  vigour  of  her  laws  main- 
tains. And  it  is  by  the  use  which  Greece  knows 
how  to  make  of  this  virtue,  that  she  defends  herself- 
equally  against  the  inconveniences  of  poverty  and  the 
yoke  of  servitude.  But  to  speak  only  of  the  Lacedae- 
monians, my  particular  countrymen,  you  may  assure 
yourself,  that  as  they  are  born  and  bred  up  in  lib«rty, 
they  will  never  hearken  to  any  proposals  that  tend  to 
slavery.  Though  they  were  deserted  and  abandoned 
by  all  the  other  Grecians,  and  reduced  to  a  band  of 
a  thousand  men,  or  even  to  a  more  inconsiderable 
number,  they  will  still  tome  out  to  meet  you,  and  not 
refuse  to  give  you  battle. "  Xerxes,  upon  hearing 
this  discourse,  fell  a  laughing;  and  as  he  could  not 
comprehend  how  men  in  such  a  state  of  liberty  and 
independence  as  the  Lacedaemonians  were  described 
to  tiijoy,  who  had  no  master  to  force  and  compel 
them  to  it,  could  be  capable  of  exposing  themselves 
in  such  a  manner  to  clanger  and  death;  Demaratus 
replied,  "The  Spartans*  indeed  are  free,  and  under 
no  subjection  to  the  wiii  of  any  man;  but  at  the  same 
time  they  have  laws,  to  which  they  are  subject,  and 
of  which  they  stand  in  greater  awe  than  your  subjects 
do  of  your  majesty.  Now  by  these  laws  they  are 
forbidden  ever  to  fly  in  battle,  let  the  number  of  their 
enemies  be  never  *o  superior;  and  are  commanded, 
by  abiding  firm  in  their  post,  either  to  conquer  or  to 
die." 

Xerxes  was  not  offended  at  the  liberty  wherewith 
Demarattis  spoke  to  him,  and  continued  his  march. 

SECTION  IV.— THE  LACED.EMOMANS  AND  ATHE- 
NIANS SEND  TO  THEIR  ALLIES  TO  REQUIRE  SUC- 
COURS FROM  THEM,  BUT  TO  NO  PURPOSE.  THE 
COMMAND  OF  THE  FLEET  GIVEN  TO  THE  LACE- 
DEMONIANS. 

LACEDTEMON  and  Athens,*  which  were  the  two 
tio«'  powerful  cities  of  Greece,  and  those  against 
which  Xerxes  was  most  exasperated,  were  not  indo- 
lent or  asleep  whilst  so  formidable  an  enemy  was  ap- 
proaching. Having  received  intelligence  long  before 
of  the  designs  of  this  prince,  they  had  sent  spies  to 
Sardis,  in  order  to  gain  more  exact  information  as  to 
the  number  and  quality  of  hi«  forces.  These  spies 
were  seized,  and  as  they  were  just  going  to  be  put  to 
death,  Xerxes  countermanded  it,  and  gave  orders 
that  they  should  be  conducted  through  his  army,  and 
then  be  sent  bark  without  any  harm  being  done  them. 
At  their  return,  the  Grecians  understood  what  they 
bad  to  apprehend  from  so  potent  an  enemy. 

They  sent  deputies  at  the  same  time  to  Argos,  into 
Sicily  to  Gelon,  tyrant  of  Syracuse,  to  the  isles  of  Cor- 
ey ra  and  Crete,  to  desire  succours  from  them,  and  to 
form  a  league  against  the  common  enemy. 

The  people  of  Argos  offered  a  very  considerable 
toccour,4  on  condition  that  they  should  have  an  equal 
•hare  of  the  anthority  and  command  with  the  Lace- 
daemonians The  latter  consented,  that  the  king  of 
Argos  should  have  the  same  authority  as  either  of  the 
two  kings  of  Sparta.  This  was  granting  them  a  great 
deal:  but  into  what  errors  and  mischiefs  are  not  men 
led  by  a  mistaken  point  of  honour,  and  a  foolish  jeal- 
ousy "of  command  !  The  Argives  were  not  contented 
with  this  ofler,  and  refused  to  assist  the  allied  Gre- 
cians, without  considering,  that  if  they  suffered  them 
to  be  destroyed,  their  own  ruin  must"  inevitably  fol- 
low that  of  Greece. 

The  deputies  proceeded  from  Argos  to  Sicily,'  and 


*  Rerml    I.  vii.  c.  101.  105. 
«  Ibid.  c.  145,  146. 
»  IbiJ.  c.  153— J61 


•  Ibid,  c.  104. 
«  Ibid.  e.  148  193 


addressed  themselves  to  Gelon,  who  was  the  most  po- 
tent prince  at  that  time  among  the  Greeks.  He  pro- 
mised to  assist  tht'in  with  200  vessels  of  three  brnche* 
of  oars,  with  an  army  of  20.000  foot  and  2000  horse, 
2000  light-armed  soldiers,  and  the  same  number  of 
bowmen  and  slingers,  and  to  supply  the  Grecian  army 
with  provisions  during  the  whole  war,  on  condition 
they  would  make  him  generalissimo  of  all  the  forces 
both  by  land  and  sea.  The  Lacedemonians  were  high- 
ly offended  at  such  a  proposal.  Gt  Ion  then  abated 
somewhat  in  his  demands, and  promised  the  same,  pro- 
vided he  had  at  least  the  command  either  of  the  tleet 
or  of  the  army.  This  proposal  was  strenuouslv  op- 
posed by  the  Athenians,  who  made  answer,  that  they 
alone  had  a  right  to  command  the  tleet,  in  case  the 
Lacedaemonians  were  willing  to  give  it  i.p.  Gtlon  had 
a  more  substantial  reason  for  not  leaving  Sicil\  un- 
provided with  troop?,  which  was  the  approach  of  the 
formidable  army  of  the  Carthaginians,  commanded 
by  Amilcar,  that  consisted  of  300,000  men. 

The  inhabitants  of  Corcyra,6  now  called  Corfu, 
gave  the  envoys  a  favourable  answer,  and  immediate- 
ly put  to  sea  with  a  fleet  of  sixty  vessels.  Hut  they 
advanced  no  farther  than  the  coasts  of  Laconia,  pre- 
tending they  were  hindered  by  contraiy  winds,  but  in 
reality  waiting  to  see  the  success  of  an  engagement 
that  they  might  afterwards  range  themselves  on  the 
side  of  the  conqueror. 

The  people  of  Crete,7  having  consulted  the  Del- 
phic oracle,  to  know  what  resolution  they  were  to 
take  on  this  occasion,  absolutely  refused  to  enter  into 
the  league. 

Thus  were  the  Lacedaamonians  and  Athenians  left 
almost  to  themselves,8  all  the  rest  of  the  cities  and 
nations  having  submitted  to  the  heralds  that  Xerxet 
had  sent  to  require  earth  and  water  of  them,  except- 
ing the  people  of  Thespia  and  of  Platasae.  In  so  press- 
ing a  danger,9  their  first  care  was  to  put  an  end  to  aU 
discord  and  division  among  themselves;  for  which 
reason  the  Athenians  made  peace  with  the  people  of 
jEijina,  with  whom  they  were  actually  at  war. 

Their  "next  care  was  to  appoint  a  general,"  for 
there  never  was  any  occasion  wherein  it  was  more 
necessary  to  choose  one,  who  was  capable  of  so  im- 
portant a  trust,  than  in  the  present  conjuncture,  when 
Greece  was  upon  the  point  of  being  attacked  by  the 
force*  of  all  Asia.  The  most  able  and  experienced 
captains,  terrified  at  the  greatness  of  the  danger,  had 
taken  the  resolution  of  not  presenting  themselves  a* 
candidates.  There  was  a  certain  citizen  at  Athens, 
whose  name  was  Epicydes,  that  had  some  eloquence, 
but  in  other  respects  was  a  person  of  no  merit,  was  in 
disreputation  for  his  want  of  courage,  and  notorious 
for  his  avarice.  Notwithstanding  all  which  it  wat 
apprehended  that  in  the  assembly  of  the  people  the 
votes  would  run  in  his  favour.  Themistocles,  who 
was  sensible,  that"  in  calm  weather  almost  any  mar 
iner  may  be  capable  of  conducting  a  vessel,  but  that 
in  storms  and  tempests  the  most  able  pilots  are  at  a 
loss,  was  convinced,  that  the  commonwealth  was  ruin- 
ed, i(f  Kpicydes  was  chosen  general,  whose  venal  and 
mercenary  soul  gave  th«-m  the  justest  reason  to  fear 
that  he  was  not  proof  against  the  Persian  gold.  Thei« 
are  occasions,  when,  in  order  to  act  wisely  (I  had 
almost  said  regularly.)  it  is  necessary  to  dispenie  wilh 
ami  rise  above  all  rule.  Themistoclts,  who  knew  very 
well  that  in  the  present  state  of  affairs  he  was  thi 
only  person  capable  of  commanding,  did  for  that  rea- 
son make  no  scruple  of  employing  bribes  and  pres- 
ents to  remove  his  competitor;  anil  "  having  found 
means  to  make  the  ambition  of  Epicydes  aniemls,  by 
gratifying  his  avarice,  he  got  himself  elected  general 
in  his  stead.  We  may  here,  I  think,  very  justly  ap- 
ply to  Themistocles,  what  Livy  says  of  Fabius,  on  a 
like  occasion.  This  great  commander  finding,  when 

«  Her<>d.  I.  vii  c.  168  «  Ibid.  161—171. 

•  ibid,  c.  132.  •  Ibid,  c.  143. 
'•  Plut.  in  Themist.  p.  114. 

•  '  Quilibel  nautarum  Tectorumque  tranqnillomsri  guber_ 
nare  putest :  ul)i  orta   neva  tempettas  c«t,  ac   turbalo  aiarj 
rnpitur  vento  navi»,  turn  »iro  el  guberrmtore  opu§  e«.     Li«. 
1.  xxiv.  n.  8. 

u  Xr.««o-  Tij»  f  !vtTi>..«»  iJ.fJiir«T«  *•<•  T 

w 


254 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Hannibal  was  in  the  heart  of  Italy,  that  the  people 
Were  going  to  make  a  ina.i  of  no  merit  consul,  em- 
ployed all  his  own  influence,  as  well  as  that  nf  his 
friend*,  to  be  continued  in  the  consulship,  without 
being  concerned  at  the  clamour  that  might  be  raised 
against  him;  and  he  succeeded  in  the  attempt.  The 
historian  adds,1  "The  conjuncture  of  affairs,  and  the 
extreme  danger  to  which  the  commonwealth  was  ex- 
posed, were  arguments  of  such  weight,  that  they  pre- 
vented anv  one  from  being  offended  at  a  conduct 
wliirh  miglit  appear  to  be  contrary  to  rule,  and  re- 
moved all  suspicion  of  Fahius's  having  acted  from  any 
motive  of  interest  or  ambition.  On  the  contrary,  the 
public  admired  his  generosity  and  greatness  of  soul 
ir.  that,  as  he  knew  the  commonwealth  had  occasion 
for  an  accomplished  general,  and  could  not  be  igno- 
rant or  doubtful  of  his  own  singular  merit  in  that  re- 
spect, he  had  chosen  rather  in  some  sort  to  hazard  his 
own  reputation,  and  perhaps  expose  his  character  to 
the  reproaches  of  envious  tongues,  than  to  bft  want- 
in?  in  any  service  he  could  render  his  country." 

The  Athenians  also  passed  a  decree  to  recall  home 
all  their  people  that  were  in  banishment.2  They  were 
afraid  lest  Aristides  should  join  their  enemies,  and  lest 
his  authority  should  carry  over  a  great  many  others 
to  the  side  of  the  barbarian*.  But  they  were  very 
little  acquainted  with  their  citizen,  who  was  infinitely 
remote  from  such  sentimerti.  Be  that  as  it  may,  they 
thought  fit  to  recall  him,  and  Themistocles  was  so  far 
from  opposing  the  decree  for  that  purpose,  that  he 
promoted  it  with  all  his  influence  and  authority.  The 
hatred  and  division  of  these  great  men  had  nothing 
of  that  implacable,  bitter,  and  outrageous  spirit  which 
prevailed  among  the  Romans  in  the  later  times  of  the 
republic.  The  danger  of  the  state  was  the  cause  of 
their  reconciliation,  and  when  their  services  were 
necessary  to  the  preservation  of  the  public,  they  laid 
aside  all  their  jealousy  and  rancour:  and  we  shall  see 
by  the  sequel,  that  Aristides  was  so  far  from  secretly 
thwarting  his  former  rival,  that  he  zealously  contri- 
buted to  the  success  of  his  enterprises,  and  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  his  glory. 

The  alarm  increased  in  Greece,  in  proportion  as 
they  received  advice  that  the  Persian  armv  advanced. 
If  the  Athenians  and  Lacedaemonians  had  been  able 
to  make  no  other  resistance  than  with  their  land 
forces.  Greece  had  been  utterly  ruined  and  reduced 
to  slavery.  This  exigence  taught  them  how  to  set  a 
right  value  upon  the  prudent  foresight  of  Themisto- 
rles,  who  upon  some  other  pretext  had  caused  100 
galleys  to  be  built.  Instead  of  judging  like  the  rest 
of  the  Athenians,  who  looked  upon  the  victory  of  Ma- 
rathon a*  the  end  of  the  war,  he  on  the  contrary  con- 
sidered it  rather  as  the  beginning,  and  as  the  signal 
of  still  greater  battles,  for  which  it  was  necessary  to 
prepare  the  Athenian  people;  and  from  that  very  time 
he  besran  to  think  of  raising  Athens  to  a  superiority 
over  Sparta,  which  for  a  long1  time  had  been  the  mis- 
tress of  all  Greece.  With  this  view  he  judged  it  ex- 
pedient to  direct  all  the  strength  of  Athens  entirely 
towards  naval  affairs,  perceiving  very  plainly  that  as 
•he  was  so  weak  by  land,  she  had  no  other  way  to 
rfcnder  herself  necessarv  to  her  allies  or  formidable 
to  her  enemies.  His  advice  prevailed  in  spite  of  the 
opf>osition  of  Miltiades,  whose  difference  of  opinion 
undoubtedly  arose  from  tKe  little  probability  there 
«va»,  that  a  people  entirely  unacquainted  with  fight- 
ins  at  sea.  and  who  were  capable  of  fitl'in?  out,  and 
arming  only  very  small  vessels,  should  be  able  to  with- 
stand so  formidable  a  po-ver  as  that  of  the  Persians, 
who  had  both  a  numerous  land  army  and  a  fleet  of 
above  1000  ships. 

The  Athenians  had  some  silver  mines  in  a  part  of 
Att'ca  called  Laurium,8  the  whole  revenues  and  pro- 


»  Tem|"U*ac.  necestitas  belli,  iic*disorimen  summte  rernm, 
facielmnt  ne  qui«  ant  in  exemplum  exquireret,  ant  suspect- 
um  cupiditntis  impcrii  consulem  habo.ret.  Ciuin  laudabant 
p.itius  masnitudinem  aiiimi.  c|uoi]  cum  summo  impcratore 
tm-  opn«  rcip.  sciret,  seque  eum  baud  diiliio  esse,  minoris 
invidi.im  mam,  xi  qua  ex  re  orirctur,  quatn,  utilitatcm  reip. 
fecinset.  Lin  I.  jtxiv.  n.  9. 

»  Plut.  in  Arist.  p.  322.  323. 

•  Plut.  in  Theraiit.  p  113. 


duct  of  which  used  to  be  distributed  amongst  them 
Themistocles  had  the  courage  to  propose  to  the  peo- 
ple that  they  should  abolish  these  distributions,  and 
employ  that  money  in  building  vessels  with  three 
benches  of  oars,  in  order  to  make  war  upon  the  peo"- 
pie  of  .K^'iiia,  against  whom  he  endeavoured  to  re- 
kindle their  ancient  jealousy.  No  people  are  evei 
willing  to  sacrifice  their  private  interest?  to  the  gene- 
ral utility  of  the  public;  for  they  seldom  have  so  much 
generosity  or  public  spirit,  as  to  purchase  the  welfare 
of  the  state  at  their  own  expense  The  Athenian 
people,  however,  did  it  upon  this  occasion;  moved  by 
the  earnest  remonstrances  of  Themistocles,  they  con- 
sented, that  the  money  which  arose  from  the  product 
of  the  mines,  should  be  employed  in  the  building  of 
100  galleys.  Against  the  «"-»-ival  of  Xerxes  ther 
doubled  the  number,  and  to  tnat  fleet  Greece  owed 
its  preservation. 

When  they  came  to  the  point  of  naming  a  general 
for  the  command  of  the  navy,4  the  Athenians  who 
alone  had  furnished  two- thirds  of  it,  laid  claim  to  that 
honour  as  appertaining  to  them,  and  their  pretensions 
were  certainly  just  and  well  grounded.  It  happened, 
however,  that  the  suffrages  of  the  allies  all  concurred 
in  favour  of  F.urybiades,  a  Lacedaemonian.  Themis- 
tocles, though  very  aspiring  after  glory,  thought  it 
incumbent  upon  him  on  this  occasion  to  neglect  hi* 
own  interests  for  the  common  good  of  the  nation:  and 
giving  the  Athenians  to  understand,  that,  provided 
they  behaved  as  valiant  men,  all  the  Grecians  would 
quickly  desire  to  confer  the  command  upon  them  of 
their  own  accord,  he  persuaded  them  to  consent,  as 
he  would  do  himself,  to  give  up  that  point  at  present 
to  the  Spartans.  It  may  justly  be  said,  that  thit 
prudent  moderation  in  Themistocles  was  another 
means  of  saving  the  state.  For  the  allies  threatened 
to  separate  themselves  from  them,  if  they  refused  to 
comply;  and  ii  that  had  happened,  Greece  must  hav« 
been  inevitably  ruined. 

SECTION   V.— THE  BATTLE   OF   THERMOPYLAE 

THE  DEATH  OF  LEONIDAS. 
THE  only  thing  that  now  remain- 
ed to  be  discussed,5  was  to  know  in  A.  M.  3524 
what  place  they  should  resolve  to  Ant.  J.  C.  480 
meet  the  Persians,  in  order  to  dis- 
pute their  entrance  into  Greece.  The  people  of 
Thessaly  represented,  that  as  they  were  the  most  ex- 
posed, and  likely  to  be  first  attacked  by  the  enemy,  it 
was  but  reasonable,  that  their  defence  and  security, 
on  which  the  safety  of  all  Greece  so  much  depended, 
should  first  be  provided  for;  without  which  they 
should  be  obliged  to  take  other  measure?,  that  would 
be  contrary  to  their  inclination,  but  yet  absolutely 
necessary,  in  case  their  country  was  left  unprotected 
and  defenceless.  It  was  hereupon  resolved,  that  10,000 
men  should  be  sent  to  guard  the  passage  which  sepa- 
rates Macedonia  from  Thessaly  near  the  river  Peneus, 
between  the  mountains  Olympus  and  Ossa.  But 
Alexander,  the  son  of  Amyiitas,  king  of  Macedonia, 
having  eiven  them  to  undeVstand,  that  if  (hey  waited 
for  the  Persians  in  that  place  they  must  inevitably  b« 
overpowered  by  their  numbers,  they  retired  to  Th«r 
mopylae.  The  Thessalians  finding  themselves  that 
abandoned  without  any  farther  deliberation  submit 
ted  to  the  Persians. 

Thermopylae6  is  a  strait  or  narrow  pass  of  mount 


«  Herod.  I.  viii.  c.  213.  •  thin.  I.  vii.  t.  172,  173 
•  [Pass  of  T/>ermopyla.—T\\e  appellation,  Tliermopfto 
mean*  the  oasc  of  the  Hot-c|>rin?s.  Beyond  the  fountain 
where  the  Spartans  were  combing  their  hair  when  seen  hv 
the  spy  despatched  to  observe  their  motions  by  Xerxes.  * 
the  north  is  an  extena've  bog  or  fen,  Ihroush  which  a  nat 
row  paved  causeway  era  the  only  approach  to  southern 
Greece.  It  is  bordereu  on  either  side  by  a  deep  and  irnprac- 
ticable  morass  ;  and  it  is  further  bounded  by  the  rea  toward* 
the  east,  and  the  precipices  nf  Mount  OEts  to  the  we.«t.  Her* 
is  situated  the  Turkish  Dervcne,  or  burrier,  u|iori  a  small 
narrow  §tone  bridge,  marking  the  most  important  point  of 
the  whole  passage,  a*  it  is  still  occupied  by  sentinels  as  in 
ancient  times,  and  it  therefore,  even  now,  considered  a»  tha 
Pyle  of  the  southern  provinces.  The  Tumulus,  erected  •• 
a  monument  over  the  bodies  of  tho  Spurtans  who  were  slaio 
with  the  brave  Leonidai  in  defending  thii  pasi,  Hill  exit* 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


255 


DEta,'  between  Thessaly  and  Phocis,  only  twenty-five 
:cet  broad,  which  therefore  might  be  defended  by  a 
imall  number  of  forces,  and  which  was  the  only  way 
through  which  the  Persian  land  army  could  enter 
Achaiii,  and  advance  to  besiege  Athens.  This  was 
the  place  where  the  Grecian  army  thought  fit  to  wait 
for  the  enemy:  the  person  who  commanded  it  was 
[.eonidas,  one  of  the  two  kings  of  Sparta. 

Xerxes  in  the  mean  time  was  upon  his  march:*  he 
had  given  orders  for  his  fleet  to  follow  him  along  the 
coast,  and  to  regulate  their  motions  according  to  those 
of  the  land  army.  Wherever  he  came  he  found  pro- 
vision and  refreshment  prepared  beforehand,  pursuant 
to  the  orders  he  had  sent;  and  every  city  he  arrived 
at  gave  him  a  magnificent  entertainment,  which  cost 
immense  sums  of  money.  The  vast  expense  of  these 
treflts  gave  occasion  to  a  wittv  saying  of  a  certain 
citizen  of  Abdera  in  Thrace,  who,  when  the  king  was 
gone,  said,  they  ought  to  thank  the  gods,  that  he  ate 
but  one  niral  a  day. 

In  the  same  country  of  Thrace,*  there  was  a  prince 
who  showed  an  extraordinary  greatness  of  soul  on 
this  occasion:  it  was  the  king  of  the  Bisaltas.  WhiUt 
all  the  other  princes  ran  into  servitude,  and  basely 
submitted  to  Xerxes,  he  proudly  refused  to  receive  hfs 
yoke  or  to  obey  him.  Not  being  in  a  condition  to 
resb.t  him  with  opea  force,  he  retired  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain  Rhodope,  into  an  inaccessible  place,  and 
forbade  all  his  sons,  who  were  six  in  number,  to  carry 
arms  against  Greece.  But  they,  either  through  fear 
of  Xer\e«,  or  through  a  curiosity  to  see  so  important 
a  war,  followed  the  Persians,  in  contradiction  to  their 
father's  injunction.  On  the?r  return  home,  their  fa- 
ther, to  punish  so  direct  a  disobedience,  condemned 
all  his  sons  to  have  their  eyes  put  out.  Xerxes  con- 
tinued his  march  through  Thrace,  Macedonia,  and 
Thessaly,  every  thing  giving  way  before  him  till  he 
came  to  the  strait  of  Thermopylae. 

One  cannot  see,  without  the  utmost  astonishment,* 
what  a  handful  of  troops  the  Grecians  opposed  to  the 
innumerable  army  of  Xerxes.  We  find  a  particular 
account  of  their  numbers  in  Pausanias.  All  their 
forces  joined  together,  amounted  only  to  11.200  men; 
of  which  number  4000  pnly  were  employed  at  Ther- 
mopylae to  defend  the  pass.  But  these  soldiers,  adds 
the  hi-torian.  were  all  determined  to  a  man  either  to 
conquer  or  die.  And  what  is  it  that  such  an  army 
cannot  effect' 

x  When  Xerxes  advanced  near  the  straits  of  Ther- 
mopy  !;«•,*  he  was  strangely  surprised  to  find  that  they 
were  determined  to  dispute  his  passage.  He  had  si- 
ways  flattered  himself,  that  on  the  first  hearing  of  his 
arrival,  the  Grecians  would  betake  themselves  to 
flight:  nor  could  he  ever  be  persuaded  to  believe, 
i\hat  Demaratus  had  told  him  from  the  beginning  of 
his  project,  that  at  the  first  pass  he  came  to.  he  would 
find  his  whole  army  stopped  by  a  handful  of  men.  He 
•ent  out  a  spy  before  him  to  view  the  enemy.  The 
inv  brought  him  word,  that  he  found  the  Lacedaemo- 
nian* out  of  their  intrenchment«,  and  that  they  were 
ji\erting  themselves  with  military  exercises,  and 
'ombing  their  hair:  this  was  the  Spartan  manner  of 
preparing  themselves  for  battle. 

Xrrxt-s,  still  entertaining  some  hopes,  waited  four 
dav«  on  purpose  to  give  them  ».ime  to  retreat.  And 
in  this  interval  of  time  he  useJ  his  utmost  endeav- 
ours to  gain  Leonidas,*  by  making  him  magnificent 
promises,  and  assuring  him  that  he  would  make  him 
master  of  all  Greece,  if  he  would  come  over  to  his 


placed  on  the  rery  top  of  the  eminence  to  which  (he  Greeks 
retired  :  "and  there,"  say«  Hrrodotn«.  "  is  the  Tumulus,  at 
the  entrance  of  the  defile,  where  now  stands  the  stonn  lion, 
»arrrd  to  Leonida?."  Thi*  eminence  overlook*  the  nar- 
rowett  and  fteepest  part  of  the  defile.  This  Tnmulu«  i*  a 
toniral  mound  of  earth,  covered  with  the  liroken  remain* 
•f  a  mas«ive  square  pedestal,  which  terved  as  a  founda- 
tion for  »ome  monument,  perhaps  the  *tone  lion  mentioned 
tbove.l 
i  Her.Kl.  1.  vii.  e.  175,  177.  »  Ibid.  c.  106.  132 

•  tbtd  I.  viii.  e.  116 

•  fnu*.  1.  x   p.  645 

«  Herod    I.  rii   s.  207—231.     D'"d.  '•  *'•  P-  5.  10 

•  P'ut   in  Laeon.  Apoph.  p.  235. 


party.  Leonidas  rejected  his  proposal  with  sorn  and 
indignation.  Xerxes  having  afterwards  written  to  hiip 
to  deliver  up  his  arms.  Leonidas  in  a  Myle  and  spirit 
truly  laconical,  an-wered  him  in  two  words:  Com* 
and  take  them."1  Nothing  remained,  but  to  prfparetc 
engage  the  Lacediemonians.  Xerxes  first  command- 
ed his  Median  forces  to  march  against  them,  with 
others  to  take  them  all  alive  and  bring  them  to  him. 
The  Medes  were  not  able  to  stand  the  charge  of  the 
Grecians;  and  being  shamefully  put  to  flight,  they 
showed,  says  Herodotus,8  that'  Xerxes  had  a  greut 
many  men,  "but  few  soldiers.  The  next  that  were  sent 
to  face  the  Spartans,  were  those  Persians  cnllea  the 
Immortal  Band,  which  consisted  of  10,000  men,  and 
were  the  best  troops  in  the  whole  army.  But  these 
had  no  better  success  than  the  former. 

Xerxes,  despairing  of  being  able  to  force  his  waj 
through  troops  so  determined  to  conquer  or  die,  waf 
extremely  perplexed,  and  could  not  tell  what  resolu- 
tion to  take;  when  an  inhabitant  of  the  country  came 
to  him,  and  discovered  a  secret  path,9  leading  to  an 
eminence  which  overlooked  and  commanded  the 
Spartan  forces.  He  quickly  despatched  a  detachment 
thither,  which,  marching  all  night,  arrived  there  at 
the  break  of  day.  and  possessed  themselves  of  that 
advantageous  post. 

The  Greeks  were  soon  apprized  of  this  misfortune; 
and  Leonidas,  seeing  that  it  was  now  impossible  to 
withstand  the  enemv,  obliged  the  rest  of  the  allies  to 
retire,  but  stayed  hmiself  with  his  300  Lacedaemoni- 
ans all  resolved  to  die  with  their  leader,  who  being 
told  by  the  oracle,  that  either  Lacedaemon  or  her  king 
must  necessarily  perish,  determined,  without  the  least 
hesitation,  to  sacrifice  himself  for  his  country.  The 
Spartans  lost  all  hopes  either  of  conquering  or  escap- 
ing, and  looked  upon  Thermopyla?  as  their  burying 
place.  The  king,  exhorting  his  mtn  to  take  some 
nourishment,  and  telling  them  at  the  same  time,  that 
they  should  sup  together  with  Pluto,  they  set  up  a 
shout  of  joy  as  if  they  had  been  invited  to  a  banquet, 
and  full  of  ardour  advanced  with  their  king  to  battle. 
The  shock  was  exceedingly  violent  and  bloody.  Le- 
onidas was  one  of  the  first'that  fell.  The  endeavoort 
of  the  Lacedaemonians  to  defend  his  dead  body  were 
incredible.  At  length,  not  vanquished,  but  oppress- 
ed by  numbers,  they  all  fell,  except  one  man.  who 
escaped  to  Sparta,  where  he  was  treated  as  a  coward 
and  traitor  to  his  country,  and  nobody  would  keep 
company  or  converse  with  him;  but  soon  afterwards 
he  made  glorious  amends  for  his  fault  at  the  battle  of 
Plataeae,  where  he  distinguished  him«elf  in  an  extra- 
ordinary manner.  Xerxes,10  enraged  to  the  last  degree 
against  Leonidas  for  daring  to  make  head  against 
him,  caused  his  dead  body  to  be  hung  on  a  gallows; 
and  while  he  intended  dishonour  to  his  enemy  cover- 
ed himself  with  disgrace. 

Some  time  after  these  transactions,  by  order  of  (he 
Amnhictyons,  a  magnificent  monument  was  erected 
at  Thermopylae  in  honour  of  these  brave  defenders  of 
Greece;  and  upon  the  monument  were  two  inscrip- 
tions: one  of  which  was  general,  and  related  to  all 
those  that  died  at  Thermopylae,  importing  that  the 
Greeks  of  Peloponnesus,  to  the  number  only  of  4000, 
had  made  head  against  the  Persian  army,  -vhirh  con- 
sisted of  3,000,000  of  men:  the  other  related  to  the 
Spartans  in  particular.  It  was  composed  by  the  pcet 
Simonides,  and  is  very  remarkable  for  its  simplicity 
It  is  as  follows: 


1    'Avrf^  f  ivl  I,  MiX-»  ».•<•. 

•   'On  »l>.>.:i   ui»  nff.w.i  iiir,  eXivoi  il  **fft<. 
Quod  mnlti  hominecencnt.  patiri  antrm  riri. 
»  When  the  Gaul*  300  years  after  this,  came  to   inr«d« 
Greece,  they  posaeifed  themselves   of  the   mail*  of  Ther- 
mopylsp  hr  mean*  of  the  same  by-path,  which  the  Grecian* 
hail  still  nojlected  to  ircure.     Pautnn.  I.  i.  p.  7,  8. 
.«  Herod!  I.  rii.  c.  238. 

n  Pari  nnimo  Lacedscmonii  in  Thermopylii  occidernnt  11 
quo*  Simonides  ; 

Dir.  hospen.  Pparte  nog  te  hie  vidiwe  jacente*. 
Dum  nnctis  patrie  fefibus  ob»eqiiimur.     _ 

Cie    Tutc.  Qvrft.  .    I.  n.  101. 


250 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


That  is  to  «ay:  Go,  passenger,  and  tell  at  Laceilx- 
mon,  that  jte  died  here  in  obedience  lo  her  sncrcd 
laws.  Forty  years  afterwards,  Pausanias,  who  ob- 
tained the  victory  of  Plataeae.  caused  the  bones  of  Le- 
on'r.las  to  be  earned  from  Thermopt  lae  to  Sparta,  and 
erected  a  magnificent  monument  to  his  memory  near 
which  was  likewise  another  erected  for  Pausanias. 
Every  year  at  these  tombs  was  a  funeral  oration  pro- 
nounced in  honour  of  these  heroes,  and  public  games 
celebrated,  at  which  none  but  Lacedaemonians  had 
a  right  to  be  present;  in  order  to  show,  that  they 
alone  were  concerned  in  the  glory  obtained  at  Ther- 
mopylae. 

Xerxes  in  that  affair  lost  above  20,000  men,1  among 
whom  were  two  of  the  king's  brothers.  He  was  very 
sensible  that  so  great  a  loss,  which  was  a  manifest 
proof  of  the  courage  of  their  enemies,  was  capable  of 
alarming  and  discouraging  his  soldiers.  In  order 
therefore  to  conceal  the  knowledge  of  it  from  them, 
he  caused  all  his  men  that  were  killed  in  that  action, 
except  1000,  whose  bofiies  he  ordered  to  be  left  upon 
the  fiVU,  to  be  thrown  together  into  large  holes, 
which  were  secretly  made,  and  covered  over  after- 
wards with  earth  and  herbs.  This  stratagem  succeed- 
ed very  ill:  for  when  the  soldiers  in  his  fleet,  being 
curious  to  see  the  field  of  battle,  obtained  leave  to 
come  thither  for  that  purpose.it  served  rather  to  dis- 
cover his  own  littleness  of  soul,  than  to  conceal  the 
number  of  the  slain. 

Dismayed  with  a  victory  that  had  cost  him  so  dear,* 
he  asked  Demaratus,  if  the  Lacedaemonians  had  yet 
many  such  soldiers.  That  prince  told  him,  that  the 
Spartan  republic  had  a  great  many  cities  belonging 
to  it,  of  which  all  the  inhabitants  were  exceedingly 
brave;  but  that  those  of  Lacedaemon,  who  were  pro- 
perly called  Spartans,  and  who  were  8000  in  number, 
surpassed  all  the  rest  in  valour,  and  were  all  of  thtm 
such  as  those  who  had  fought  under  Leonidas. 

I  return  for  an  instant  to  the  battle  of  Thermopylae, 
the  issue  of  which,  fatal  in  appearance,  might  make 
an  impression  upon  the  minds  of  the  readers  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  occasion 
their  courage  to  be  looked  upon  as  the  effect  of  a  pre- 
sumptuous temerity,  or  a  desperate  resolution. 

That  action  of  Leonidas,  with  his  300  Spartans, 
was  not  the  efftct  of  rashness  or  despair,  but  was  a 
wise  and  noble  conduct,  as  Diodorus  Siculus*  has 
taken  care  to  observe,  in  his  magnificent  encomium 
upon  that  famous  engagement,  to  which  he  ascribes 
the  success  of  all  the  ensuing  campaigns.  Leonidas 
knowing  that  Xerxes  was  inarching  at  the  head  of  all 
the  forces  of  the  East,  in  order  to  overwhelm  and 
crush  a  little  country  by  the  dint  of  numbers,  rightly 
conceived,  from  the'superiority  of  his  genius  and  un- 
derstanding, that  if  they  pretended  to  make  the  suc- 
cess of  that  war  consist  in  opposing  force  to  force, 
and  numbers  to  numbers,  all  the  Grecian  nations  to- 
gether would  never  be  able  to  equal  the  Persians,  or 
to  dispute  the  victory  with  them;  that  it  was  therefore 
necessary  to  point  out  to  Greece  another  mean*  of 
safety  and  preservation,  whilst  she  was  under  these 
alarms;  and  that  they  ought  to  show  the  whole  uni- 
verse, who  had  all  their  eyes  upon  them,  what  may 
be  done,  when  greatness  of  mind  is  opposed  to  force 
of  body,  true  courage  and  bravery  against  blind  im- 
petuosity, the  lore  of  liberty  against  tyrannical  op- 
pression, and  a  few  disciplined  veteran  troops  against 
a  confused  multitude,  though  never  so  numerous. 
These  brave  Laced:emonian«  thought  it  became  them, 
who  were  the  choicest  soldiers  of  the  chief  people  of 
Greece,  to  devote  themselves  to  certain  death,  in  or- 
der to  make  the  Persians  sensible  how  difficult  it  is 
to  reduce  free  men  to  slavery,  nnd  to  teach  the  rest 
c.f  Greece  by  their  example,  either  to  conquer  or  to 

pri  ish. 

These  sentiments  do  not  originate  from  my  own 
inrei.tkm,  nor  do  I  ascribe  them  to  Leonidas  without 
foundation:  they  are  plainly  comprised  in  that  short 
answer,  which  that  worthy  Iting  of  Sparta  made  to  a 
certain  Lacedaemonian ;  who,  being  astonished  at  the 


•  H»W..  1.  viii.  r.  24.  25. 

•  Ibid.  I.  vii.  c.  134.  137. 


•  Lib.  il.  p.  9. 


generous  resolution  the  king  had  taken,  spoke  to  him 
in  this  manner:  "  Is  it  possible  then,  sir,*  that  you 
can  think  of  marching  with  a  handful  ol  men  against 
such  a  mighty  and  innumerable  army  .'" — ••  If  we  are 
to  re.  kon  upon  numbers,"  replied  Leoni  'as,  "  all  the 
people  of  Greece  together  would  not  be  suiiicient 
since  a  small  part  of  the  Persian  army  i.-  eiiual  to  ul( 
her  inhabitants:  but  if  we  are  to  reckon  upon  valour, 
my  little  troop  is  more  than  sufficient." 

The  event  showed  the  justness  of  this  prince's  sen- 
timents. That  illustrious  example  of  courage  aston- 
ished the  Persians,  and  gave  new  spirit  and  vigour 
to  the  Greeks.  The  lives  then  of  this  heroic  li  adei 
and  his  brave  troop  were  not  thrown  awa\ ,  'jut  use. 
fully  employed;  and  their  death  was  attended  \\ith  • 
double  effect,  more  great  and  lasting  than  thev  them- 
selves had  imagined.  On  one  han.l,  it  WHS  i::  a 
manner  the  seed  of  their  ensuing  victories,  which 
made  the  Persians  for  ever  after  lay  aside  all  thought* 
of  attacking  Greece  ;  so  that  durinsj  thu  seven  or 
eight  succeeding  reigns, there  was  neither  any  prince 
who  durst  entertain  such  a  design,  nor  any  flatterer 
in  his  court  who  durst  propose  the  plan  to  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  such  a  signal  and  exemplary  instance 
of  intrepidity  made  an  indelible  impression  upon  nil 
the  rest  of  the  Grecians,  and  left  a  persuasion  deeply 
rooted  in  their  hearts,  that  they  were  able  to  subdue 
the  Persians,  and  subvert  their  vast  empire.  Cimon 
WHS  the  man  who  ma  le  the  first  attempt  of  that  kind 
with  success.  Agesilaus  afterwards  pushed  that  de- 
sign so  far,  that  he  made  the  great  king  tremble  in  his 
palace  at  Susa.  Alexander  at  last  accomplished  it 
with  incredible  facility.  He  never  had  the  least 
doubt,  any  more  than  the  Macedonians  who  followed 
him,  or  the  whole  country  of  Greece  that  chose  him 
general  in  that  expedition,  but  that  with  30,000  men 
he  could  overturn  the  Persian  empire,  since  300  Spar- 
tans had  been  sufficient  to  check  the  united  forces  of 
the  whole  East. 

SECTION   VI. — NAVAL  BATTLE   ?fE.AR  ARTEMI- 
SI17M. 

THE  very  same  day  on  which  the  glorious  action  at 
Thermopylae  took  place,5  there  was  also  an  enira^e- 
ment  at  sea  between  the  two  fleets.  That  ot  the 
Grecians,  exclusive  of  the  little  galleys  and  small 
boats,  consisted  of  271  vessels.  This  fleet  had  lain 
by  near  Artemisium,  a  promontory  of  Eulwea  upon 
the  northern  coast  towards  the  straits.  That  of  the 
enemy,  which  was  much  more  numerous,  WHS  near 
the  same  place,  but  had  lately  suffered  in  a  viol,  nt 
tempest,  that  had  destroyed  above  400  of  their  ves- 
sels. Notwithstanding  this  loss,  as  it  was  still  vastly 
superior  in  number  to  that  of  the  Grecians,  which 
thev  were  preparing  to  attack,  they  detached  200  of 
their  vessels,  with  orders  to  wait  about  Eubiea,  to  the 
end  that  none  of  the  enemy's  vessels  might  be  able  lo 
escape  them.  The  Grecians  having  got  intelligence 
of  this  immediately  set  sail  in  the  night,  in  order  to 
attack  that  detachment  at  day-break  the  next  morn- 
ing. But  not  meeting  with  if,  they  went  toward*  the 
evening  and  fell  upon  the  bulk  of  the  enemy's  fleet, 
which  they  treated  very  roughly.  Night  coining  on, 
they  were  obliged  to  separate,  and  both  parties  re- 
tired to  their  |iost.  But  the  very  nig-ht  that  parted 
them,  proved  more  pernicious  to  the  Persians  than 
the  engagement  which  preceded,  from  a  violent  storm 
of  wind,  accompanied  with  rain  and  thunder,  which 
distressed  and  harassed  their  vessels  till  break  of 
day:  and  the  200  ships  also  that  had  been  detached 
from  their  fleet,  were  almost  all  cast  away  upon  the 
coasts  of  Eubiea;  it  being  the  will  of  the  gods,  .MVJ 
Herodotus,  that  the  two  fleets  should  become  very 
near  equal. 

The  Athenians  having  the  same  day  received  a  re- 
inforcement of  fifty-three  vessels,  the  Grecians,  whit 
were  ap|>rised  of  the  wreck  that  had  befallen  part  of 
the  enemy's  fleet,  fell  upon  the  shim  of  the  Ciliciam 
at  the  same  hour  they  had  attacked  the  fleet  the  daj 
before,  and  sunk  a  great  number  of  them.  The  Per 


•  Plat,  in  Ijimn.  Apoph.  p.  223. 

i  Herod.  1.  viii.  e.  1—18.    Diod.  1.  zi.  p.  Itt.  11 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


257 


•ur>«  D?inz  ashamed  to  see  themselves  thus  insulted 
•*»  mi  enemy,  that  was  »o  much  inferior  in  number, 
thought  fit  the.  next  day  to  ap|>ear  first  in  a  disposi- 
tion to  engage.  The  battle  was  very  obstinate,  and 
the  success  pretty  near  equal  on  both  sides,  except- 
ing that  the  Persians,  who  were  incommoded  by  the 
largeness  and  number  of  their  vessf-ls,  sustained  much 
th««  greater  loss.  Both  parties  however  retired  in 
good  order. 

All  these  actions,1  which  passed  near  Artemisium, 
were  not  absolutely  decisive,  but  contributed  very 
much  to  animate  the  Athenians,  as  they  were  con- 
vinced, by  their  own  experience,  that  there  was  no- 
thing really  formidable,  either  in  the  number  and 
magnificent  ornaments  of  the  vessels,  or  in  the  bar- 
barians' insolent  shouts  and  songs  of  victory,  to  men 
that  know  how  to  come  to  close  engagement,  and 
that  have  the  courasre  to  fight  with  steadiness  and  re- 
solution; and  that  the  best  way  of  dealing  with  such 
nn  enemy,  is  to  despise  all  that  vain  appearance,  to 
ndvance  boldly  up  to  them,  and  to  charge  them  brisk- 
ly and  vigorously  without  ever  giving  ground. 

The  Grecian  fleet  having  at  this  time  had  intelli- 
gence of  what  had  passed  at  Thermopylae,  resolved 
Tpon  the  course  they  were  to  take  without  any  farther 
•ctibemtion.  They  immediately  sailed  away  from 
\rteinisinm,  and  advancing  towards  the  heart  of 
Greece,  they  stopped  .at  Salamis,  a  little  isle  very 
tear  and  over-;\gainst  Athens.  Whilst  (he  fleet  wa's 
retreating,  Themistorles  passed  through  all  the  places 
where  the  enemy  must  necessarily  land,  in  order  to 
take  in  fresh  water  or  other  provisions,  and  in  larsre 
characters  engraved  upon  the  rocks  and  the  stones  the 
following  words,  which  he  addressed  to  the  lonians; 
••  Be  of  our  side,  ye  people  of  Ionia:  come  over  to  the 
party  nf  your  fathers,  who  expose  their  own  lives  for  j 
no  other  end  than  to  maintain  your  liberty;  or,  if  you  ! 
cannot  possibly  do  that,  at  least  do  the  Persians  all  the 
misi  hiel"  you  can,  when  we  are  engaged  with  them, 
•nd  put  their  army  into  disorder  and  confusion."  By 
this  means  Themistocles  hoped  either  to  bring  the 
lonians  really  over  to  their  party,*  or  at  least  to  ren- 
der them  suinerted  to  the  barbarians.  We  see  this 
general  had  nis  thoughts  always  intent  upon  his  busi- 
ness, and  neglected  nothing  that  could  contribute  to 
the  success  of  his  designs. 

SECTION  VII  —THE  ATHENIANS  ABANDON  THEIK 
CITV,  WHICH  18  TAKEN  AND  BURNT  BY  XERXES. 

XERTF.S  in  the  mean  time  had  entered  m»o  the 
country  of  Phocis  by  the  upper  part  of  Dor!*,  and 
was  burning  and  plundering  the  cities  of  the  Pho- 
fians.  The  inhabitants  of  Peloponnesus  having  no 
thoughts  but  to  save  their  own  country,  had  resolved 
to  abandon  all  the  re*t,  and  to  bring  nil  the  Grecian 
forces  together  within  the  isthmus,  the  entrance  of 
which  they  intended  to  secure  by  a  strong  wall  from 
one  sea  to  the  other,  a  space  of  near  five  miles  En- 
glish. The  Athenians  were  highly  provoked  r.t  so 
base  a  desertion,  as  they  saw  themselves  ready  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  Persians,  and  likely  to  bear  the 
whole  weight  of  their  fury  and  vengeance.  Some 
time  before  they  had  consulted  the  oracle  of  Delphi. 
tvhi'-h  had  given  them  for  answer,  that3  there  would 
be  no  jrn>f  «f  sarim?  the  city  hut  by  wootien  wn//j. 
The  sentiments  of  the  people  were  much  divided 
•bout  tlii<  ambiguous  expression  ;  some  thought  it  was 
to  be.  understood  to  mean  the  citadel,  because  hereto- 
fore it  ha  '  hpen  surrounded  with  wooden  nalisadoes. 
Rut  Themistocles  gave  another  sense  to  the  words 
which  was  much  more  natural,  understanding  it  to 
Aiean  shipping:  and  demonstrated  that  the  only  plan 
fhey  had  to  adopt  was  to  leave  the  city  empty,  and  to 
embark  all  the  inhabitants.  But  this  was  a  resolution 
the  people  would  not  at  all  give  ear  to,  as  thinking 
they  thereby  relinquished  every  hope  of  victory,  and 
seeing  no  method  of  saving  themselves,  when  once 
they  ha;!  abandoned  the  temples  of  their  gods  and  the 
tombs  of  their  ancestors.  Here  Themistocles  had 

•  Pint,  in  Tliem.*t.  p.  115   117      Herod.  1   rill.  e.  21,  22. 

•  Herod.  I   viii.  c.  40,  41. 
Ihicl.  I.  vii.c.  139-113 

VOL.  I.— 33 


occasion  for  all  his  address  and  all  his  eloquence  to 
work  upon  the  people.  After  he  had  represented  to 
them  that  Athens  did  not  consist  either  of  its  walls, 
or  its  houses,  but  of  its  citizens,  and  that  the  savibg 
of  these  was  the  preservation  of  the  city  he  endeav- 
oured to  persuade  them  by  the  argument  most  capa- 
ble of  making  an  impression  upon  them  in  the  un- 
happy, afflicted,  and  dangerous  condition  they  were 
then  in,  I  mean  that  of  the  divine  authority;  giving 
them  to  understand,  by  the  very  words  of  the  oracle, 
and  by  the  prodigies  which  had  happened,  that  the'ir 
removing  for  a  time  from  Athens  was  manifestly  the 
will  of  the  gods. 

A  decree  was  therefore  passed,*  by  which,  in  order 
to  soften  what  appeared  so  hard  in  the  resolution  of 
deserting  the  city,  it  was  ordained,  "  that  Athene 
should  be  given  up  in  trust  into  the  hands,  and  com- 
mitted to  the  keeping  and  protection,  of  Minerva,  pa 
troness  of  the  Athenian  people;  that  all  such  inhabi- 
tants as  were  able  to  bear  arms,  should  go  on  ship- 
board;  and  that  every  citizen  should  provide,  as  well 
as  he  could,  for  the  safety  and  security  of  his  wife, 
children,  and  slaves." 

The  extraordinary  behaviour  of  Cimon,s  who  was 
at  this  time  very  young,  was  of  great  weight  on  thik 
singular  occasion.  Followed  by  his  companions,  with 
a  gay  and  cheerful  countenance,  he  went  publicly  along 
the  street  of  the  Ceramicus  to  the  citadel,  in  order  to 
consecrate  a  bit  of  bridle,  which  he  carried  in  his 
hand  in  the  temple  of  Minerva,  designing  to  make  the 
people  understand  by  this  religious  and  artecting  cer- 
emony, that  they  had  no  farther  business  with  land 
forces,  and  that  it  behoved  them  now  to  betake  them- 
selves entirely  to  the  sea.  After  he  had  maJe  an  of- 
fering of  this  bit,  he  took  one  of  the  shields  that  hung 
upon  the  wall  of  the  temple,  paid  bis  devotions  to  the 

foddess,  went  down  to  the  water  side,  and  was  th« 
rst,  who  by  his  example  inspired  the  generality  of 
the   people   with   confidence  and  resolution,  and*  en- 
couraged them  to  embark. 

The  greater  part  of  them  sent  their  father?  and  mo- 
thers, that  were  old,  together  with  their  wives  and 
children,  to  the  city  of  Troezene,6  the  inhabitants  of 
which  received  them  with  great  humanity  and  gene- 
rosity. For  they  made  an  ordinance  that  they  should 
be  maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  and  as- 
signed for  each  person's  subsistence  two  oboli  a  day, 
which  were  worth  about  two-pence  English  money. 
Besides  this,  they  permitted  the  children  to  gather 
fruit  wherever  they  pleased,  or  wherever  they  came, 
and  settled  a  fund  for  the  payment  of  the  masters, 
who  had  the  care  of  their  education.  How  beautiful 
is  it  to  see  a  city,  exposed  as  this  was  to  the  greatest 
dangers  and  calamities,  extend  her  care  and  generosi- 
ty, in  the  very  midst  of  such  alarms,  even  to  the  ed- 
ucation of  other  people's  children! 

When  the  whole  city  came  to  embark,  so  moving 
ami  melancholy  a  spectacle  drew  tears  from  the  eyes 
of  all  that  were  present,  and  at  the  same  time  occa- 
sioned great  admiration  of  the  steadiness  and  couragt 
of  those  men,  who  sent  their  fathers  and  mothers  oi>- 
other  way  and  to  other  places,  and  who,  without  be- 
ing moved  either  at  their  grief  or  lamentations,  or  at 
the  tender  embraces  of  their  wives  and  children,  patt- 
ed over  with  so  much  firmness  and  resolution  to  Sa- 
lamis.  But  that  which  extremely  raised  and  aug- 
mented the  general  compassion,  was  the  great  number 
of  old  men  whom  they  were  forced  to  leave  in  the 
city  on  account  of  their  age  and  infirmities,  and  of 
whom  many  voluntarily  remained  there,  through  re- 
ligious motives,  believing  the  citadel  to  be  the  thing 
meant  by  the  oracle  in  the  forementioned  ambiguoui 
expression  of  wooden  walls.  There  was  no  creature 
(for  history  has  judged  the  circumstance  worthy  of 
being  remembered.)  there  was  no  creature,  I  *ay 
even  to  the  very  domestic  animals,  but  what  took  a 
part  in  this  public  mourning;  nor  was  it  possible  foi 
a  man  to  see  these  poor  creatures  run  howling  and 

«  Herod.  1.  viii.  c.  51—54.     Plut.  in  Themi«t.  p.  117. 

•  Flut.  inCim.p.  431. 

•  Thin  wan  a  small  city  situate  upon  the  set  lid*  to  Uat 
part  of  the  Peloponneiui  oiled  Argolu. 

w  2 


258 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


crying  after  their  masters,  who  were  going  on  board 
ship,  without  being  touched  and  affected.  Among  all 
the  rest  of  these  animals,  particular  notice  is  taken  of 
a  dosr  belonging  to  Xanlhippus,  the  father  of  Pericles, 
which,  not  being  able  to  endure  to  see  himself  aban- 
doned by  his  master,  jumped  into  the  sea  after  him, 
and  continued  swimming  as  near  as  he  could  to  the 
vi  .-i  I  his  master  was  on  board  of,  till  he  landed  quite 
spent  at  Salamis.  and  died  the  moment  after  upon  the 
share.  In  the  same  place,  even  in  Plutarch's  time, 
they  used  to  show  the  spot  wherein  this  faithful  ani- 
mal was  said  to  be  buried,  which  was  called  the  dog's 
b  u  rying-gro  und. 

Whilst  Xerxes  was  continuing  his  march,1  some 
deserters  from  Arcadia  came  and  joined  his  army. 
The  king  having  asked  them  what  the  Grecians  were 
then  doing,  was  extremely  surprised  when  he  was 
told,  that  they  were  employed  in  seeing  the  games 
and  combats  then  celebrating  at  Olympia:  and  his 
surprise  was  still  increased,  when  he  understood  that 
the  victor's  reward  in  those  engagements  was  only  a 
crown  of  olive.  What  men  must  they  be,  cried  one 
of  the  Persian  nobles  with  great  wonder  and  aston- 
ishment, who  are  influenced  only  by  honour,  and  not 
by  money! 

Xerxes  had  sent  off  a  considerable  detachment  of 
his  army  to  plunder  the  temple  at  Delphi,2  in  which 
he  knew  there  were  immense  treasures,  being  resolved 
to  treat  Apollo  with  no  more  favour  than  the  other 
gods,  whose  temples  he  had  pillaged.  If  we  may  be- 
lieve Herodotus  and  Diodorus  Siculus,  as  soon  as  ever 
this  detachment  advanced  near  the  temple  of  Miner- 
va, surnaiaed  the  Provident,  the  atmosphere  grew  dark 
on  a  sudden,  and  a  violent  tempest  arose,  accompa- 
nied with  impetuous  winds,  thunder  and  lightning; 
and  two  huge  rocks  having  severed  themselves  from 
the  mountain,  fell  upon  the  Persian  troops  and  crush- 
ed the  greatest  part  of  them. 

The  other  part  of  the  army  marched  towards  the 
city  of  Athens,3  which  had  been  deserted  by  all  its 
inhabitants,  except  a  small  number  of  citizens  who 
had  retired  into  the  citadel,  where  they  defended 
themselves  with  incredible  bravery,  till  they  were 
killed,  and  would  hearken  to  no  terms  of  accommoda- 
tion whatsoever.  Xerxes  having  stormed  the  citadel, 
reduced  it  to  ashes.  He  immediately  despatched  a 
courier  to  Susa,  to  carry  the  agreeable  news  of  his 
success  to  Artabancs  his  uncle;  and  at  the  same  time 
cent  him  a  great  number  of  pictures  and  statues. 
Those  of  Harmodiusand  Aristogiton,*  the  ancient  de- 
liverers of  Athens,  were*  sent  with  the  rest.  One  of 
the  Antiochuses,  king  of  Syria  (I  do  not  know  which 
of  them,  nor  at  what  time  it  was,)  returned  them  to 
the  Athenians,  being  persuaded  he  could  not  possibly 
make  them  a  more  acceptable  present. 

SECTION  VIII— THE  BATTLE  OF  SALAMIS.    FRE- 

CIPITATE  RETURN  OF  XERXES  INTO  ASIA.  PAN- 
EGYRIC OF  THEMISTOCLES  AND  ARI3TTDES.  THE 
DEFEAT  OF  THE  CARTHAGINIANS  IN  SICILY. 

AT  this  time  a  division  arose  among  the  command- 
ers of  the  Grecian  fleet;*  and  the  confederates,  in  a 
council  of  war  which  was  held  for  that  purpose,  were 
of  very  different  sentiments  concerning  the  place  for 
engaging  the  enemy.  Some  of  them,  and  indeed  the 
greater  part,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Eurvbiades, 
the  generalissimo  of  the  fleet,  were  for  having  them 
advance  near  the  isthmus  of  Corinth,  that  they  might 
be  nearer  the  land  army,  which  wa«  posted  there  to 
guard  that  pass  under  the.  command  of  Clcombrotus, 
Leonidas's  brother,  and  more  ready  for  the  defence 
of  Peloponnesus.  Others,  at  the  head  of  whom  was 
Themistocles,  alleged,  that  it  would  be  betraying 
their  country  to  abandon  so  advantageous  a  post  as 
that  of  Salamis.  And  as  he  supported  his  opinion 
with  abundance  of  warmth,  Euryhiades  lifted  up  his 
cane  in  a  menacing  manner:  Strike,  says  the  Athe- 
nian, unmoved  at  the  insult,  but  hear  me;  and,  con- 


•  Ifernd.  I.  viii.  e.  26. 

•  Ihid.  P..  35— 3J.     Diod.   .xi.  p.  12. 

•  Herod  1.  viii  c.  50—54.  «  Ptusan.  1.  i.  p.  14. 
i  Herod  1  riii  c.  5&— 65.    Plat  in  Thcmist.  p.  117 


tinuing  his  discourse,  he  proceeded  to  thow  of  wh* 
importance  it  was  to  the  fleet  of  the  Grecians,  whostB 
vessels  were  lighter  and  much  fewer  in  number  than 
those  of  the  Persians,  to  engage  in  such  a  strait  as  that 
of  Salamis,  which  would  render  the  enemy  incapable 
of  using  a  great  part  of  their  forces.  Eurybiades,  who 
could  not  help  being  surprised  at  the  moderation  of 
Themistocles,  acquiesced  in  his  reasons,  or  at  least 
complied  with  his  opinion,  for  fear  the  Athenians, 
whose  ships  made  up  above  one  half  of  the  fleet. 
should  separate  themselves  from  the  allies,  as  their 
generals  had  taken  occasion  to  insinuate. 

A  council  of  war  was  also  held  on  the  side  of  the 
Persians,6  in  order  to  determine  whether  tl.cy  should 
hazard  a  naval  engagement;  Xerxes  himself  was 
come  to  the  fleet,  to  take  the  advire  of  hi?  raptn'mi 
and  officers,  who  were  all  unanimous  for  the  battle, 
because  they  knew  it  was  agreeable  to  the  kino's  in- 
clination. Queen  Artemisia  was  the  only  person  who 
opposed  that  resolution.  She  represented  the  danger 
ous  consequences  of  coming  to  blows  with  people 
much  more  conversant  and  more  expert  in  maritime 
affairs  than  the  Persians;  alleging  that  the  loss  of  a 
battle  at  sea  would  be  attended  with  the  ruin  of  theii 
land  army;  whereas,  by  protracting  the  war,  and  ap- 
proaching Peloponnesus,  they  would  create  jealousies 
and  divisions  among  their  enemies,  or  rather  augment 
the  division  which  already  was.  very  prevalent  amongst 
them;  that  the  confederates  in  that  case  would  not  fail 
to  separate  from  one  another,  in  order  to  return  and 
defend  their  respective  countries;  and  that  then  the 
king,  without  difficulty,  and  almost  without  striking 
a  stroke,  might  make  himself  master  of  all  Greece. 
This  wise  advice  was  not  followed,  and  a  battle  was 
resolved  upon. 

Xerxes,  imputing  the  ill  success  of  all  his  former 
engagements  at  sea  to  his  own  absence,  was  reso.Ved 
to  be  witness  of  this  from  the  top  of  an  eminence, 
where  he  caused  a  throne  to  be  erected  for  that  pur- 
pose. This  might  have  contributed  in  some  measure 
to  animate  the  forces;  but  there  is  another  much 
more  sure  and  effectual  mode  of  doing  it,  I  mean  th« 
prince's  actual  presence  and  example,  when  he  him- 
self shares  in  the  danger,  and  thereby  shows  himse'' 
worthy  of  being  the  soul  and  head  of  a  brave  and  m» 
merous  body  of  men  readv  to  die  for  his  service.  A 
prince  who  has  not  this  sort  of  fortitude,  which  no 
thing  can  shake,  and  which  even  takes  new  vigour 
from  danger,  may  nevertheless  be  endued  with  othei 
excellent  qualities,  but  is  by  no  means  proper  to  com 
inand  an  army.  No  qualification  whatsoever  can  suj» 
ply  the  want  of  c.ouragre  in  a  general;  and  the  more 
he  labours  to  show  the  appearance  of  it."  when  ho 
has  not  the  reality,  the  more  he  discovers  his  cow- 
ardice and  fear.  There  is,  it  must  be  owned,  a  vast 
difference  between  a  general  officer,  and  a  common 
soldier.  Xerxes  ought  not  to  have  exposed  his  person 
otherwise  than  became  a  prince;  that  is  to  say,  as  the 
head,  not  as  the  hand;  as  he  whose  business  it  is  to 
direct  and  give  orders,  not  as  those  who  are  to  put 
them  in  execution.  But  to  keep  himsrlf  entirely  at  a 
distance  from  danger,  and  to  act  no  other  part  than 
that  of  a  spectator,  was  really  renouncing  the  quality 
and  office  of  a  general. 

Themi«tocles,8  knowing  that  some  of  the  com- 
manders in  the  Grecian  fleet  still  entertained  thoughts 
of  sailing  towards  tht=.  isthmus,  contrived  to  have  notice 
given  covertly  to  Xerxes,  that  as  the  Grecian  allies 
were  now  assembled  together  in  one  place,  it  would 
be  an  easy  matter  for  him  tosulxtue  and  destroy  them 
altogether;  whereas,  if  they  once  separated  from  one 
another,  as  they  were  going  to  do,  he  might  ne»er 
meet  with  another  opportunity  so  favourable.  The 
king  gave  into  this  opinion:  and  immediately  com- 
manded a  great  number  of  his  vessels  to  surround 
Salamis  by  night,  in  order  to  make  it  impracticable 
for  the  Greeks  to  escape  from  that  post. 

Nobody  among  the  Grecians  perceived  that  their 


•  Herod.  I.  Tiii.  e.  67  —  70. 

•  QuantA  rrmin«  ocroltare  er,  abdere  parorem 
manifestiui  pavidi.     Tatit.  Hitt. 

•  Herod.  I.  viii.  e.  74—78. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


259 


army  was  sin  rounded  in  this  manner.1  Aristides  came 
that  night  to  ^Egina,  where  he  had  some  forces  under 
tis  command,  and  with  very  great  danger  passed 
through  the  whole  fleet  of  the  enemy.  When  he 
came  up  to  Themistocles's  tent,  he  took  him  aside, and 
spoke  to  him  in  the  following  manner:  "  If  we  are 
wise,  Themistocles,  we  shall  from  henceforward  lay 
aside  that  vain  and  childish  dissension  that  has  hith- 
erto divided  us,  and  strive,  with  a  more  noble  and 
useful  emulation,  which  of  us  shall  render  the  best 
service  to  his  country,  you  by  commanding  and  doing 
the  dnty  of  a  wise  and  able  captain,  and  I  by  obeying 
your  orders,  and  by  assi-ting  you  with  my  person  and 
advice."  He  then  informed  him  of  the  army's  being 
surrounded  with  the  ships  of  the  Persians,  and  warm- 
ly exhoited  him  to  give  them  battle  without  delay. 
Thercistoclet,  <xtremely  astonished  at  such  a  great- 
ness of  soul,  and  such  a  noble  and  generous  frank- 
ness, was  somewhat  ashamed  that  he  had  suffered 
himself  to  be  so  much  excelled  by  his  rival;  but, 
without  being  ashamed  to  own  it,  he  promised  Aris- 
tides, that  he  would  henceforward  imitate  his  gener- 
osity, ami  even  exceed  it,  if  it  were  possible,  in  the 
whole  of  his  future  conduct.  Then, after  having  im- 
parted to  him  the  stratagem  he  had  contrived  to  de- 
rive the  barbarian,  he  desired  him  to  go  in  person  to 
Eur\  blades,  in  order  to  convince  him  that  there  was 
no  other  means  of  safety  for  them,  than  to  engage  the 
•nemy  by  sea  atSalamis;  which  commission  Aristides 
txeciitcd  with  pleasure  and  success,  for  he  possessed 
iiuch  influence  over  that  general. 

Both  siries,  therefore,  prepared  themselves  for  the 
battle.*  The  Grecian  fleet  consisted  of  380  sail  of 
<hips,  which  in  every  thing  followed  the  direction  and 
•jrders  of  ThemistocW-s.  As  nothing  escaped  his  vigi- 
lance, and  as.  like  an  able  commander,  he  ki;er7  how 
'o  improve  every  circumstance  and  incident  to  ad  van- 
'size,  before  he  would  be<rin  the  engagement,  he  ~?.'t- 
tel  till  a  certain  wind,  which  rose  regularly  every  day 
•it  a  certain  hour,  and  which  was  entirely  contrary  to 
Jie  enemy,  began  to  blow.  As  soon  as  this  wind 
fose,  the  sfenaJ  was  given  for  battle.  The  Persians, 
ivho  knew  that  their  king  had  his  eyes  upon  thens, 
advanced  with  such  courage  and  impetuosity,  as  were 
:apable  of  striking  an  enemy  with  terror.  But  the 
beat  of  the  first  attack  quickly  abated  when  they  came 
lo  be  engaged.  Every  thing  was  against  them;  the 
vind,  which  blew  directly  in  their  faces;  the  height 
»nd  the  heaviness  of  their  vessels,  which  could  not 
move  nor  turn  without  great  difficulty;  and  even  the 
number  of  their  ships,  which  was  so  far  from  being  of 
use  to  them,  that  it  only  served  to  embarrass  then; 
in  a  place  so  strait  and  narrow  as  that  in  which  they 
foug-ht;  whereas,  on  the  side  of  the  Grecians,  every 
thin<r  was  done  with  good  order,  and  without  hurry  or 
confusion;  because  every  thing  was  directed  by  one 
Commander,  The  Ionian?,  whom  Themistocles  had 
warned,  by  characters  engraven  upon  stones  along 
the  coasts  of  Euboea,  to  remember  from  whom  they 
derived  their  original,  were  the  first  that  betook 
themselves  to  flight,  and  were  quickly  followed  l.y  the 
rest  of  the  fleet.  Artemisia  distinguished  herself  by 
incredible  efforts  of  resolution  and  courage:  so  that 
Xerxrs,  who  saw  in  what  manner  she  had  behaved 
Herself,  cried  out,  that  the  men  had  behaved  like  wo- 
men in  this  engagement,  and  that  the  women  had 
ihown  the  courage  of  men.8  The  Athenians  being 
enraged  that  a  woman  had  dared  to  appear  in  arms 
igainst  them,  had  promised  a  reward  of  10,000  drach- 
mas to  any  one  that  should  be  able  to  take  her  alive; 
,<it  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape  their  pursuit. 
I  they  had  taken  her.  she  could  have  deserved  no- 
ning  from  them  but  the  highest  commendations,  and 
ne  most  honourable  and  generous  treatment. 

The  manner4  in  which  that  queen  escaped  ought 


»  Plut.  in  Arist.  p.  323.     Flerod.  1.  viii.  c.  78—72. 
•  (!<>rod.  I.  viii.  c.  P4— 9fi. 

Artemisia  inter  primon  duccs  bellum  acerrimt  eiebat. 
Qaippp.  ut  in  viro  muliehrcm  timnrem.  ita  in  mulicre  virU 
tomaudariam  r>'rn«TP».  Justin.  1  ii.  c.  12. 

«  Herod.  I.  viii.  c.  87  88.     Polysn.  1.  Tiii.  c,  53. 


not  to  be  omitted.5  Seeing  herself  warmly  pursued 
by  an  Athenian  ship,  from  which  it  teemed  impossi- 
ble for  her  to  escape,  she  hung  out  Grecian  colon. s, 
and  attacked  one  of  the  Persian  vessels,  on  board  of 
which  was  Damasithvmus,  king  of  Calynda,6  witn 
whom  she  had  some  quarrel,  and  sunk  it.  This  made 
her  pursuers  believe,  that  she  was  one  of  the  Grecian 
fleet,  and  they  gave  over  the  chase. 

Such  was  the  success  of  the  battle  of  Salamis,  one 
of  the  most  memorable  actions  related  in  ancient  his- 
tory, and  which  has  rendered  the  name  and  courage 
of  the  Grecians  famous  for  ever.  A  great  number  of 
the  Persian  ships  were  taken,  and  a  much  greater 
sunk  upon  this  occasion.  Many  of  their  allits,  who 
dreaded  the  king's  cruelty  no  less  than  the  enemy, 
made  the  best  of  their  way  into  their  own  country. 

Themistocles,  in  a  secret  conversation  with  Ailsti- 
des,  proposed  to  his  consideration,  in  order  to  sound 
him  and  to  learn  his  real  sentiments,  whether  it  would 
not  be  proper  for  them  to  send  some  vessels  to  break 
down  the  bridge  which  Xerxes  had  caused  to  be  built, 
to  the  end.  says  he.  that  we  may  take  Asia  in  Ku- 
rope;  but  though  he  made  this  proposal,  he  was  far 
from  approving  it.  Aristides,  believing  him  to  be  in 
earnest,  argued  very  warmly  and  strenuously  against 
any  such  project,  and  represented  to  him  how  danger- 
ous it  was  to  reduce  so  powerful  an  enemy  to  de- 
spair, from  whom  it  was  their  business  to  deliver 
themselves  as  soon  as  possible.  Themistocles  seemed 
to  acquiesce  in  his  reasons;  and  in  order  to  hasten  the 
king's  departure,  contrived  to  have  him  secretly  in- 
formed, that  the  Grecians  designed  to  break  down 
the  bridge.  The  point  Themistocles  seems  to  have 
had  in  view  by  thi?  fals*  confidence,  was  to  strengthen 
himself  with  "Aristides's  opinion,  which  was  of  great 
weight,  against  that  of  the  other  generals,  in  case 
they  inclined  to  go  and  break  down  the  bridge.  Per- 
haps too  he  mi«ht  aim  at  guarding  himself  by  this 
mean"  against  the  ill  will  of  his  enemies,  who  might 
one  day  accuse  him  of  treason  before  the  people,  if 
ever  they  came  to  know  that  he  had  been  the  author 
of  thnt  secret  advice  to  Xerxes. 

This  prince,7  beins:  frightened  at  such  news,  made 
the  be«t  use  he  could  of  his  time,  and  set  out  by  nijrht, 
leaving  Mardonius  behind  him,  with  an  army  of  300,- 
W)Q  men,  in  order  to  reduce  Greece,  if  he  was  able. 
The  Grecians,  who  expected  that  Xerxes  would  have 
come  to  another  engagement  the  next  day,  hating 
learnt  that  he  was  fled,  pursued  him  as  fast  as  they 
con'.d,  but  to  no  purpose.  They  had  destroyed  200 
of  the  enemy's  ships,  besides  those  which  they  had 
taken.*  The'remainder  of  the  Persian  fleet,  after  hav- 
ing suffered  extremely  by  the  winds  in  their  passage, 
retired  towards  the  coast  of  Asia,  and  entered  into 
the  port  of  Cunme,  a  city  of  jCtolin.  where  they  passed 
the  winter,  without  daring  afterwards  to  return  into 
Greece. 

Xerxes  took  thp  rest  of  hi«  army  along  with  him, 
and  marched  towards  the  Hellespont.  As  no  provi- 
sions had  been  prepnred  for  them  beforehand,  they 
underwent  greft  hardships  during  their  whole  march, 
which  lasted  five-and-forty  day*.  After  having  con- 
sumed  all  the  fruits  they  could  6nd,  the  soldiers  were 
obliged  to  live  upon  herbs,  and  eren  upon  the  bark 
and  leaves  of  trees.  This  occasioned  a  great  sickness 
in  the  army;  and  great  numbers  died  of  fluxes  and 
the  plague. 

The  king,  through  eagerness  and  impatience  to 
make  his  escape,  had  left  his  army  behind  him,  and 


•  It  appfarn  that  Artemisia  valued   heroi>lf  no  lew"  open 
•trata-rem  than  rouraee.  and  at  the  same  time  wan  not. very 
delicate  in  the  choice  of  the  mrnsurro  »he  usocl.     ll  i«  «a:d 
that  being  desirous  of  winnj  Iiatniui,  a  imnllrity  of  C:iria, 
that   l«y  very  rnmmndiously  for   her,  slip  laid  her  Iroot*  in 
ambush,  and  under   pretence  of  wleliraiinz  Ihr  feast  of  '.he 
mother  of  the  end*,  in  a  wood  consecrated  to  her  near  th» 
city,  she  repaired  thither  with  a  great  trajn  of  eunuch*,  wo 
men,  driimn,  and  trumpets.     The  inhabitant!  ran  in  thrones 
to  «e«   that  rrli«ii>u»  ceremony;  and  in  tin  mean  time  Ar- 
teminia's  troop*  took  pos«ei»iua  of  the  pUce.     Poll/fit.  Str» 
tmf .  I.  viii.  c.  53. 

•  A  city  of  Lyeia. 

'  Herod.  1  viii.  c.  H5-  120.  •  Ibid.  e.  130. 


260 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


travelled  on  before  with  a  small  retinue,  in  order  to 
reach  the  brklge  with  the  greater  expedition  :  but 
wheii  he  arrived  tit  t''ie  pl.icc,  he  found  the  bridge 
broke  i  down  by  tlie  violence  of  the  waves  during  a 
great  tempest  that  had  happened. and  was  reduced  to 
the  :it.-c.essity  of  pa-sing  fie  strait  in  a  tithing  boat. 
This  was  a  sp.-ctacle  '  will  calculated  to  show  man- 
kin, 1  the  mutability  of  all  earthly  things,  and  the  nota- 
bility o;  huma:i  gn  atiir-s ;  a  prince,  whose  armies  and 
flt-fti  the  laud  and  sea  were  scarce  able  to  contain  a 
little  while  belore,  now  stealing  away  in  a  small  boat 
almost  without  any  servants  or  attendants !  Such  was 
t.'ie  event  and  success  of  Xerxes'*  expedition  against 
Greece. 

If  we  compare  Xerxes  with  himself  at  different 
times,  and  on  different  occasions,  we  shall  hardly 
know  him  for  the  same  man.  When  afl'airs  were  un- 
der consideration  and  debate,  no  person  rouU  show 
more  courage  and  intrepidity  than  this  prince:  he  is 
surprised  au.l  even  offended  if  any  one  foresees  the 
least  difficulty  in  the  execution  of  his  projects,  or 
shows  any  apprehension  concerning  the  issue  of  them. 
But  when  he  comes  to  the  point  of  execution,  and  to 
the  hour  of  danger,  he  Hies  like  a  coward,  and  think: 
of  nothing  but  saving  his  own  life  and  person.  Here 
we  have  a  sensible  and  evident  proof  of  the  difference 
between  true  courage,  which  is  never  destitute  of pru- 
deure,  and  temerity,  which  is  always  blind  and  pre- 
sun.plu  jus.  A  wise  and  prudent  prince  weighs  every 
thing,  and  examines  all  ci remittances,  before  he  en- 
ters into  a  war,2  of  which  he  is  not  afraid,  but  at  the 
*auie  time  does  not  desire;  and  when  the  time  of  ac- 
tion is  come,  the  sight  of  clanger  serves  only  to  ani- 
mate, his  courage.  Presumption  inverts  this  order. 
When  she  has  introduced  assurance  and  boldness,' 
where  wisdom  and  circumspection  ought  to  preside, 
she  a  hints  fear  and  despair,  where  courage  and  in- 
trepidity ought  to  be  exerted. 

The  first  care  of  the  Grecians,*  after  the  battle  of 
Salami*,  was  to  send  the  first  fruits  of  the  rich  spoil 
they  ha  I  taken  to  Delphi.  Cimon,  who  was  then 
very  young,  signalized  himself  in  a  particular  manner 
in  that  engagement,  and  performed  actions  of  such 
distinguished  valour,  as  acquired  him  a  great  repu- 
tation, an  I  made  him  be  considered  from  henceforth 
us  a  citizen  fiat  would  be  capable  of  rendering  the 
most  important  service*  to  hig  country  on  future  oc- 
casions. 

But  Themistocles  carried  off  almost  all  the  honour 
of  this  victory.*  which  was  the  most  signal  that  ever 
the  Grecians  obtained  over  the  Persians.  The  force 
of  truth  obliged  even  those  who  were  the  most  envi- 
ous of  his  glory  to  render  him  this  testimony.  It  was 
a  custom  in  Greece,  that  after  a  battle,  the  officers 
should  declare  who  had  distinguished  themselves 
most,  by  writing  in  s  paper  the  names  of  the  man  who 
had  merited  the  first  prite,  and  of  him  who  had  mer- 
ited the  secon:!.  On  this  occasion,  by  a  decision 
which  shows  the  good  opinion  it  is*  natural  for  every 
man  to  have  of  himself,  each  officer  adjudge'!  the  f-rs't 
rank  to  himself,  and  allowed  the  second  to  Themisto- 
cles;  which  was  indeed  giving  him  the  preference  to 
them  all. 

The  Lacedemonians  having  carried  him  to  Sparta, 
in  order  to  pay  him  the  honours  due  to  his  merit,  de- 
creed to  their  general  F.nrybiades  the  prize  of  valour, 
and  to  Themistocles  that  of  wisdom,  which  was  a 
crown  of  olive  for  both  of  them.  They  also  made  a 
present  to  Themistocles  of  the  finest  chariot  in  the 
city  ;  airl  on  hi*  departure  sent  300  young  men  of  the 
most  considerable  families  to  wait  "upon  him  to  the 
frontiers:  an  honour  they  had  never  shown  to  any 
person  whatsoever  before. 


'  Krit  rc»  «|>ecinculo  di?n»  et  a-tlimatione  nortm  huma- 
ne, rrru-n  yarictaie  mirancla.  in  exijuo  latentem  viilore  na- 
•  i»i».  quern  piiulfi  antd  vi*  s>qu»r  omne  r«|,iphnt  ;  c»ren- 
l"in  rliam  nmni  servorum  miniiicrio,  cujos  rxerritus,  prop- 
•or  multirudinpm.  terri*  grsvo*  erant.  Justin  I.  ii.  c.  13. 

»  Non  limr«  bflla.  lion  provoca*.     P/in.  dt  Traj. 

F.ir'i«ttnn«  in  ipso  diwrimine,  qui  ante  dincrimen  quietb- 
•Imui.  Tacit,  ffitt.  I.  i.  e.  14. 

•  Antp  Hiscrimen  fernm*.  inpeiiculo  paridi.  fti4  e  68. 
«  ll.-r.Ml.  I.  viii.  c.  12-2.  125. 

•  Plut.  in  Tlicmiit.  p.  190 


But  that  which  gave  him  a  still  more  sensible  plea- 
sure, were  the  public  acclamations  he  received  ut  th» 
first  Olympic  games  that  were  celebrated  after  tilt 
battle  of  Salamis,  where  all  the  people  of  Greece  \ver« 
met  together.  As  soon  as  he  appeared,  the  whole  as- 
seniblv  ro«e  up  to  do  him  honour:  nobody  regarded 
either  the  games  or  the  combats;  The.mistoclt «  wa» 
the  only  spectacle.  The  eyes  of  all  the  company 
were  fixed  upon  him,  and  every  body  was  eager  to 
show  him  and  point  him  out  with  the  hand  to  lh« 
stranger  that  did  not  know  him.  He  acknowledged 
afterwards  to  his  friends,  that  he  looked  upon  thai 
day  as  the  happiest  of  his  life;  that  he  had  never 
tasted  any  joy  so  sweet  and  so  transporting:  and  that 
this  reward,  the  genuine  fruit  of  his  labours,  exceeded 
all  his  desires. 

The  reader  has  undoubtedly  observed  in  Themisto- 
cles two  or  three  principal  strokes  of  his  character, 
which  entitle  him  to  be  ranked  amongst  the  greatest 
men.  The  design  wnich  he  formed  and  executed, of 
making  the  whole  force  of  Athens  maritime,  showed 
him  to  have  a  superior  genius,  ca|iahle  of  the  highest 
views,  penetrating  into  futurity,  and  judicious  in  seiz- 
ing the  decisive  point  in  great  affairs.  As  the  terri 
tory  belonging  to  Athens  was  barren  and  of  small  ex 
tent,  he  rightly  conceived,  that  the  only  way  that  city 
had  to  enrich  and  aggrandize  herself  was  by  sea.  And 
indeed  that  scheme  may  justly  be  looked  upon  as  th* 
source  and  cause  of  all  those  great  events,  which 
raised  the  republic  of  Athens,  in  the  sequel,  to  so 
flourishing  a  condition. 

But.  in  my  opinion,  this  wisdom  and  foresight  it 
infinitely  less  meritorious  than  that  uncommon  tem- 
per and  moderation  which  Themistocles  showed  on 
two  critical  occasions,  when  Greece  had  been  utterly 
undone  if  he  had  listened  to  the  dictates  of  an  ill- 
judged  ambition,  and  had  piqued  himself  upon  a  fals« 
point  of  honour,  as  is  usual  among  persons  of  his  age 
and  profession.  The  first  of  these  occasions  was 
when,  notwithstanding  the  flagrant  injustice  that  was 
committed,  both  in  reference  to  the  republic  of  which 
he  was  a  member,  and  to  his  own  person,  in  appoint- 
ing a  Laced.nemonian  generalissimo  of  the  fleet,  ho 
exhorted  and  prevailed  with  the  Athenians  to  desist 
from  their  pretensions,  though  never  so  justly  found- 
ed, in  order  to  prevent  the  fatal  effects  with  whicli  a 
division  among  the  confederates  must  have  be»  n  ne- 
cessarily attended.  And  how  worthy  of  admiration 
was  that  presence  of  mind  and  coolness  of  temper 
which  he  displayed,  when  the  same  F.urybiades  not 
only  affronted  him  with  harsh  and  offensive  language, 
but  lifted  up  his  cane  at  him  with  a  menacing  ges- 
ture! Let  it  be  remembered,  at  the  same  time,  that 
Themistocles  was  then  but  young;  that  he  was  full 
of  an  ardent  ambition  for  glory;  that  he  was  corn- 
zander  of  a  numerous  fleet;  and  that  he  had  right 
and  reason  on  his  side.  How  would  our  young  offi- 
ceis  beh».ve  on  a  similar  occasion?  Themistoclei 
took  all  patiently,  and  the  victory  of  Salamis  was  th« 
fruit  of  his  patience. 

As  to  Ar  slides,  I  shall  have  occasion  in  the  sequel 
to  speak  mire  extensively  upon  his  character  and 
merit.  He  was,  properly  speaking,  the  man  of  th* 
commonwealth:  provided  that  was  will  and  faithfnllv 
served,  he  wrt  very  little  concerned  by  whom  it  wa> 
done.  The  nnri*  of  other*,  so  far  from  offending  him 
became  his  owv  vy  the  approbation  nml  encr.tr  as:* 
nient  which  he  »ave  to  it.  We  have  *ee;.  him  mak« 
his  way  through  the  enemy's  fleet,  a»  thx  j-ari!  of  hii 
life,  in' order  to  give  Themistoclu  so' le  intelligent 
and  good  advice:  and  PI  u  tare  I,  *  takes  notice,  that 
during  all  the  time  the  latter  haJ  th?  command,  Aris- 
tides  assisted  him  on  all  occasions  with  his  counsel 
and  credit,  notwithstanding  he  had  reason  to  look 
upon  him  not  only  as  his  rr«a1t  but  his  enemy.  Let  ui 
compare  this  noblenesi  tnd  greatness  of  soul  witk 
the  little-spiritedness  and  meanness  of  those  me* 
who  are  so  nice,  punctilious,  and  jealous  in  whateve- 
respects  the  subject  of  command ;  who  are  incapabli 
of  acting  in  concert  with  their  colleagues,  and  so.e$ 


uir*  WKWI  T'IF  i%)irr»r.     h  fit    A*itt.  p.  323. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


261 


-itent  uj-on  engrossing  the  glory  of  every  thing  to 
themselves;  always  ready  to  sacrifice  the  welfare  of 
ln«  public  to  their  own  private  interests,  or  to  suffer 
their  rivals  to  commit  blunders,  that  they  themselves 
may  reap  advantage  from  them. 

On  the  very  same  day  that  the  action  of  Thermopy- 
lae '  happened,  the  formidable  army  of  Carthaginians, 
which  consisted  of  300,000  men,  was  entirely  defeated 
bv  Gt  Ion,  tt  rant  of  Syracuse.  Herodotus  places  this 
battle,  on  the  same  day  with  that  of  Salamis.  The 
circumstances  of  that  victory  in  Sicily  I  have  related 
in  the  history  of  the  Carthaginians. 

Alter  the  battle  of  Salamis,2  the  Grecians  being  re- 
turned from  pursuing  the  Persians.  Themistocles  sail- 
ed to  all  the  islands  that  had  declared  for  them,  to 
levy  contributions  and  exact  money  from  them.  The 
first  he  began  with  was  that  of  Andros,  from  whose 
inhabitants  he  required  a  considerable  sum,  speaking 
to  them  in  this  manner:  "  I  come  to  you  accompa- 
niid  with  two  powerful  divinities.  Persuasion  and 
Force."  The  answer  they  made  him  was:  "  We  also 
have  two  other  divinities  on  ourside,  no  less  powerful 
than  \  ours,  and  which  do  not  permit  us  to  give  the 
money  you  demand  of  us,  Poverty  and  Despair." 
Upon  this  refusal  he  made  a  feint  of  besieging  them, 
and  threatened  that  he  would  entirely  ruin  their  city. 
He  dealt  in  the  same  manner  with  several  other  is- 
lands which  durst  not  resist  him  as  Andros  had  done, 
and  drew  great  sums  of  money  from  them  without 
the  privity  of  the  other  commanders;  for  he  was  es- 
teemed a  lover  of  money,  and  desirous  of  enriching 
himself. 

SECTION    IX.— THE  BATTLE  OF  PLAT^Lfi. 

MARDONIUS,*  who  had  stayed  in 
A.  M.  3525.  Greece  with  a  body  of  300,000  men. 
Ant.  J.  C.  479.  let  his  troops  pass  the  winter  in 
Thessaly,  and  in  the  spring  follow- 
ing led  them  into  Breotia.  There  was  a  very  famous 
oracle  in  this  country,  the  oracle  of  Lebadfa,  which 
he  thought  proper  to  consult,  in  order  to  know  what 
would  be  the  success  of  the  war.  The  priest,  in  his 
enthusiastic  tit,  answered  in  a  language  which  nobody 
that  wa«  present  understood,  as  much  as  to  insinuate 
that  the  oracle  would  not  deign  to  speak  intelligibly 
to  a  barbarian.  At  the  same  time  Mardonius  sent 
Alexander,  king  of  Macedonia,  with  several  Persian 
noblemen,  to  Athens,  and  by  them,  in  the  name  of 
bis  master,  made  very  advantageous  proposals  to  the 
Athenian  people,  to  d  ?tach  them  from  the  rest  of  their 
•Hies.  The  oHers  he  made  them  were,  to  rebuild 
their  city,  which  had  been  burnt  down,  to  supply  them 
w^lh  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  to  suffer  them  to 
live  according  to  their  own  laws  and  customs,  and 
to  give  them  the  government  and  command  of  all 
Alexander  exhorted  them  in  his  own  name, 
as  their  ancient  friend,  to  lay  hold  on  so  favourable  an 
opportunity  for  re-establishing  their  affairs,  alleging 
that  they  were  not  in  a  condition  to  withstand  a  pow- 
niidable  as  that  of  the  Persian",  and  so  much 
superior  to  Greece.  On  the  first  intelligence  of  this 
ein'i.issy,  the  Spartans  also,  on  their  side,  sent  depu- 
ties to  Athens,  in  order  to  hinder  it  from  taking  effect. 
These  were  present  when  the  others  had  their  audi- 
ence;  where,  as  soon  as  Alexander  had  finished  his 
speech,  they  be<ran,  in  their  turn,  to  address  them- 
selves 10  the  Athenians,  and  strongly  exhorted  them 
not  to  separate  themselves  from  their  allies,  nor  to 
desert  the  common  interest  of  their  country;  repre- 
senting to  them,  at  the  game  time,  that  union  in  the 
present  situation  of  their  affair*  formed  their  whole 
strength,  and  would  render  Greece  invincible.  They 
added  farther  that  the  Spartan  commonwealth  wa's 
very  sensibly  moved  with  the  melancholy  state  which 
the  Athenians  were  in,  who  were  destitute  both  of 
houses  and  retreat,  and  who  for  two  years  together 
ha  1  list  all  their  harvests;  that  in  consideration  of  that 
calamity,  she  would  engage  herself,  during  the  contin- 


uance  of  the  war,  to  maintain  and  snppM  t  thtir  wives, 
their  children,  and  their  old  men,  and  to  furnish  • 
plentiful  supply  for  all  their  wants.  They  concluded 
by  animadverting  on  the  conduct  of  Alexander,  whose 
discourse,  they  said,  was  such  as  might  be  expected 
from  one  tyrant  who  spoke  in  favour  of  another;  but 
that  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten,  that  the  people  to 
whom  he  addressed  himsell  had  showed  themselves, 
on  all  occasions,  the  most  zealous  defenders  of  the 
common  liberty  of  their  country. 

Aristides  was  at  this  time  in  office,  that  is  to  say, 
the  principal  of  the  Archong.  As  it  was  therefore  hi* 
business  to  answer,  he  said,  that  as  to  the  barbarians, 
who  made  silver  and  gold  the  chief  objects  of  the,ir 
esteem,  he  forgave  them  for  thinking  they  could  cor- 
rupt the  fidelity  of  a  nation  by  large  promises;  but 
that  he  could  not  help  being  surprised  and  affected 
with  some  sort  of  indignation,  to  see  that  the  Lacedae- 
monians, regarding  only  the  present  distrf  ss  and  ne- 
cessity of  the  Athenians,  and  forgetting  their  courage 
and  magnanimity,  should  come  to  persuade  them  to 
persist  in  fighting  nobly  for  the  common  safety  of 
Greece,  from  motives  of  gain,  and  by  proposing  to 
give  them  victuals  and  provision;  he  desired  them  to 
acquaint  their  republic,  (hat  all  the  gold  in  the  world 
was  not  capable  of  tempting  the  Athenians,  or  of  ma- 
king them  desert  the  defence  of  their  common  liberty; 
that  they  were  duly  sensible  of  the  kind  offers  which 
Lacedaemon  had  made  them;  but  that  they  would 
endeavour  to  manage  their  affairs  so  as  not  to  be  • 
burden  to  any  of  their  allies.  Then,  turning  himself 
towards  the  ambassadors  of  Mardonius,  and  pointing 
with  his  hand  to  the  sun,  "  Be  assured,"  says  he  to 
them,  "  that  as  long  as  that  luminary  shall  continue 
his  course,  the  Athenians  will  be  mortal  enemies  to 
the  Persians,  and  will  not  cease  to  take  vengeance  of 
them  for  ravaging  their  lands  and  burning  their  hou- 
ses and  temples."  After  which  he  desired  the  king 
of  Macedonia,  if  he  was  inclined  to  be  truly  their 
friend,  not  to  make  himself  any  more  the  bearer  of 
such  proposals  to  them,  which  would  only  serve  to  re- 
flect dishonour  upon  him,  without  ever  producing  an/ 
other  effect. 

Aristides  was  not  satisfied  with  having  made  this 
plain  and  peremptory  declaration.  But  that  he  might 
excite  a  still  greater  horror  for  such  proposals,  and  for 
ever  prohibit  all  manner  of  intercourse  with  the  bar- 
barians through  a  principle  of  religion,  tie  ordained, 
that  the  priests  should  denounce  curses  and  execra- 
tions upon  any  j>erson  whatsoever,  that  should  pre- 
sume to  propose  the  making  of  an  alliance  with  the 
Persians,  or  the  breaking  of  their  alliance  with  the 
rest  of  the  Grecians. 

When  Mardonius  had  learned,  *  by  the  answer 
which  the  Athenians  had  sent  him.5  that  they  were 
not  to  be  prevailed  upon  by  any  proposals  or  advanta- 
ges whatsoever  to  sell  thei'r  liberty,  he  marched  with 
his  whole  army  towards  Attica,  wasting  and  destroy- 
ing whatever  he  found  in  his  way.  The  Athenians, 
not  being  in  a  condition  to  withstand  such  a  torrent 
had  retired  to  Salamis,  and  a  second  time  abandoned 
their  city.  Mardonius,  still  entertaining  hopes  of 
bringing  them  to  some  terms  of  accommodation,  sent 


i  H.Tort  1.  »ii.  c.  165.  167. 

•  M   I.  viii ....  Ill,  ]]•>.     Plut.inThe*ii«t.p.  122. 

•  Her.Ki    1     tlii     r.    I'3— 131.    ].« — 40.    144.      Pic/,    in 
/  Hrt   p.  3?  1.     Diod.  I.  li.  p.  32,  23.     Pli  t.  de   Orac.  Defoe. 


another  deputy  to  them  to  make  the  same  proposals 
as  before.  A  certain  Athenian,  called  Lycidas,  being- 
of  opinion  that  they  should  hearken  to  what  he  had 


to  oner,  was  immediately  stoned,  and  the  Athenian 
women  running  at  the  same  time  to  his  house,  did  the 
same  execution  upon  his  wife  and  children;  so  de- 
testable a  crime  did  it  appear  to  them  to  propose  • 
peace  with  the  Persians.  But  notwithstanding  this, 
they  paid  respect  to  the  character  wherewith  the  de 
pnty  wa«  inverted,  and  gent  him  bdck  without  offering 
him  any  indignity  or  ill  treatment.  Mardonius  now 
found  that  there  was  no  peace  to  be  expected  with 
them.  He  therefore  entered  Athens,  burned  and  de- 
molished every  thing  that  had  escaped  their  fury  tin 
preceding  year. 

«  Herod.  I  ix.  e.  1—11.  Pint,  in  Ariit.  p  334.  Died,  lib 
11  p.  23. 

•  Pooieaquam  nullo  pretio  libertatem  bit  Tidet  Tonalcss, 
kc.  Justin.  I.  ii.  c.  14 


HISTORY  OB'  THE 


The  Spartans,  instead  of  conducting  their  troops 
into  Attira,  according  to  their  engagement,  thought 
only  of  keeping  themselves  shut  up  within  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus for  their  own  security,  and  with  that  view 
bad  begun  to  build  a  wall  over  the  isthmus,  in  order 
to  hinder  the  enemy  from  entering  that  way,  by  which 
means  they  reckoned  they  should  be  safe  themselves, 
and  should  have  no  farther  occasion  for  the  assistance 
of  the  Athenians.  The  latter  hereupon  sent  deputies 
to  Sparta,  in  order  to  complain  of  the  slowness  and 
neglect  of  their  allies.  But  the  Ephori  did  not  seem 
to  be  much  moved  at  their  remonstrances;  and  as 
that  day  was  the  festival  of  Hyacinthus,1  they  spent 
it  in  feasts  and  rejoicing,  and  deferred  giving  the 
deputies  their  answer  till  the  next  day.  And  still  pro- 
crastinating the  affair  as  much  as  they  could,  on  vari- 
ous pretexts,  they  gained  ten  days'  time,  during  which 
the  building  of  the  wall  was  completed.  Thev  were 
on  the  point  of  dismissing  the  Athenian  envoys  in  a 
scandalous  manner,  when  a  private  citizen  ex'postu- 
lated  with  ttiein,  and  represented  to  them,  how  base 
it  would  be  to  treat  the  Athenians  in  such  a  manner, 
after  all  the  calamities  and  voluntary  losses  they  had 
so  generously  suffered  for  the  common  defence  of  lib- 
erty, and  all  the  important  services  they  had  rendered 
Greece  jn  general.  This  opened  their  eyes  and  made 
them  ashamed  of  their  perfidious  design.  The  very 
next  night  following  they  sent  off,  unknown  to  the 
Athenian  deputies.  5000  Spartan?,  who  had  each  of 
them  seven  helots  or  slaves  to  attend  him.  On  the 
following  morning  the  deputies  renewed  their  com- 
plaints with  great  warmth  and  earnestness,  and  were 
extremely  surprised  when  they  were  told  that  the 
Spartan  succours  were  on  their  march,  and  by  this 
time  were  not  far  from  Attica. 

Mardonius  had  left  Attica  at  this  time,*  and  was  on 
bis  return  into  Boeotia.  As  the  latter  was  an  open  and 
flat  country,  he  thought  it  would  be  more  convenient 
for  him  to  tight  there  than  in  Attira,  which  was  un- 
even and  rugged,  full  of  hills  and  narrow  passes,  and 
which  for  that  reason  would  not  allow  him  space 
enough  for  drawing  up  his  numerous  army  in  battle 
array,  nor  leave  room  for  his  cavalry  to  act.  When 
he  came  back  into  Boeotia,  he  encamped  by  the  river 
Asopus.  The  Grecians  followed  him  thither  under 
the  command  of  Pausanias,  king  of  Sparta,  and  of 
Aristides,  general  of  the  Athenians.  The  Persian 
army,  according  to  Herodotus,  consisted  of  300,000. 
or,  according  to  Diodorus,  of  500,000  men.  That  of 
the  Grecians  did  not  amount  to  70,000;  of  which 
there  were  but  5000  Spartans;  but,  as  these  were 
accompanied  by  35,000  helots,  t>»r.  seven  for  each 
Spartan,  they  made  up  together  40.000:  the  latter  of 
these  were  light-armed  troops.  The  Athenian  forces 
consisted  but  of  8000,  and  the  troops  of  the  allies 
made  up  the  remainder.  The  right  wing  of  the  army 
wa*  commanded  by  the  Spartans,  and  the  left  by  the 
Athenians,  an  honour  which  the  people  of  Tegnea  pre- 
tended to,  and  disputed  with  them,  but  in  rain. 

Whilst  all  Greece  was  in  suspense,*  expecting  a 
battle  that  should  determine  their  fate,  a  secret  con- 
spiracy, formed  in  the  midst  of  the  Athenian  camp  by 
some  discontented  citizens,  who  intended  either  to 
subvert  their  popular  government,  or  to  deliver  up 
Greece  into  the  hands  of  the  Persians,  gave  Aristides 
a  great  deal  of  perplexity  and  trouble.  On  this  emer- 
gency he  had  occasion  for  all  his  prudence:  not  kno-.v- 
ing  exactly  how  many  mi'^ht  be  concerned  in  this 
conspiracy,  he  contented  himself  with  having  eight  of 
them  taken  up;  and  of  those  eight, the  onlv  two  whom 
he  cau«e;l  to  be  accused,  because  they  had  the  most 
laid  to  their  charge,  made  their  escape  out  of  the 
camp,  while  their  trial  was  preparing.  There  is  no 


i  Amonjst  the  Ln«v>dsmonians  the  feast  of  HvRrinthui 
continued  tnroe  nays;  th»  first  and  the  last  of  which  were 
day*  of  sorrow  anil  mournin;  for  ih»  death  of  llyacintho*; 
but  tli«  !>erond  wa«  a  day  of  rrjoicinj.  whirh  wa*  ajvnt  in 
fraxtin?.  9|x>rt».  and  sectaries,  and  all  kind*  of  divoriions. 
Thii>  festival  wa»  celebrated  nvi>ry  year  in  the  month  of  Au- 
gust, in  honour  of  Apollo  and  Hvacimhu*. 

*  Herod   I.  ix   r.  1-2—76.      Plut.   in  Arist.  p   325—330 
DKH).  I   a.  p.  2|.  36 

•  Plut.  in  Aii*l    p.  326 


doubt  but  Aristides  favoured  their  escape,  les*.  bt 
should  be  obliged  to  punish  them,  and  their  punish- 
ment might  occasion  some  tumult  and  disorder  The 
others  that  were  in  custody  he  released,  leaving  .hem 
room  to  believe  that  he  had  found  nothing  against 
them,  and  telling  them,  that  the  battle  witn  the  ene- 
my should  be  the  tribunal  where  they  mi<;ht  fully 
justify  their  characters,  and  show  the  worll  how  un 
likely  it  was  that  they  had  ever  entertained  a  thought 
of  betraying  their  country.  This  well-timed  and 
wise  dissimulation,  which  opened  a  door  for  repent- 
ance, and  avoided  driving  the  offenders  to  despair, 
appeased  all  the  commotion,  and  quashed  the  whole 
affair. 

Mardonius,  in  order  to  try  the  Grecians,  sent  oa. 
his  cavalry,  in  which  he  was  strongest,  to  skirmish 
with  them.  The  Megarians,  who  were  encamped  in 
the  open  country,  suffered  extremely  bv  them;  and  I'D 
spite  of  all  the  vigour  and  resolution  with  which  they 
defended  themselves,  they  were  upon  the  point  of 
giving  way,  when  a  detachment  of  300  Athenians, 
with  some  troops  armed  with  missive  weapons,  ad- 
vanced to  their  succour.  Masistius,  the  general  of 
the  Persian  horse,  and  one  of  the  most  considerable 
noblemen  of  his  country,  seeing  them  advance  towards 
him  in  good  order,  made  his  cavalry  fare  about  and 
attack  them.  The  Athenians  stood  their  ground,  and 
waited  to  receive  them.  The  shock  was  verv  fierce 
and  violent,  both  sides  equally  endeavouring  to  show, 
by  the  issue  of  this  encounter,  what  would  be  the 
success  of  the  general  engagement.  The  victory  was 
a  long  time  disputed;  but  at  last,  Masistius's  horse, 
being  wounded,  threw  his  master,  who  wns  instantly 
killed;  upon  which  the  Persians  immediately  fled. 
As  soon  as  the  news  of  his  death  reached  the  barba- 
rians, their  grief  was  excessive.  They  cut  off  their 
hair,  as  also  the  manes  of  their  horses  and  mules, 
filling  the  camp  with  their  cries  and  lamentations, 
having  lost,  in  their  opinion,  the  bravest  man  of  their 
army. 

After  this  encounter  with  tht  Persian  cavalry  the 
two  armies  were  a  long  time  without  coming  to  ac- 
tion; because  the  soothsayers,  upon  inspecting  the 
entrails  of  the  victims,  foretold  equally  to  both  par- 
ties, that  they  should  be  victorious,  provided  they 
acted  only  upon  the  defensive;  whereas,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  threatened  them  equally  with  a  total 
overthrow,  if  they  acted  offensively,  or  made  the  first 
attack. 

They  passed  ten  days  in  this  manner  in  view  of  each 
other.  But  Mardonins,  who  was  of  a  fiery,  impatient 
temper,  grew  very  uneasy  at  so  long  a  delay.  Be- 
sides, he  had  only  a  few  days'  provisions  left  for  his 
army:  and  the  Grecians  grew  stronger  every  day  by 
the  addition  of  new  troops,  that  were  continually 
coming  to  join  them.  He  therefore  called  a  council 
of  war,  in  order  to  deliberate  whether  they  should 
give  battle.  Artabazns,  a  nobleman  of  singular  mt-rit 
and  <jreat  experience,  was  of  opinion,  that  th(v  should 
not  hazard  a  battle,  hut  that  they  should  retire  under 
the  walls  of  Thebes,  where  they  would  be  in  a  condi- 
tion to  supply  the  army  with  provisions  and  forage, 
He  alleg-ed,  that  delays  alone  would  be  capable  of 
diminishing  the  ardour  of  the  allies:  that  they  would 
thereby  have  time  to  tamper  with  them,  and  misrht 
be-able  to  draw  some  of  them  off  by  srold  and  silver, 
which  they  would  take  care  to  distribute  among  the 
leaders  and  among  such  ss  ha'l  the  streatert  *wav  and 
authority  in  their  several  cities;  and  that,  in  short 
this  would  he  both  the  easiest  and  surest  method  of 
subjecting  Greece.  This  opinion  wa«  verv  wise,  but 
was  overruled  by  Mardonius,  whom  the  rest  had  not 
courasre  to  contradict.  The  result  therefore,  of  their 
deliberations  was,  that  they  should  eive  hnttle  the 
next  dav.  Alexander,  kins'  o/  Macedonia,  who  was 
on  the  «He  of  the  Grecians  in  his  hrart,  came  secretly 
about  midnight  to  their  camp,  and  informed  Aristides 
of  nil  that  had  passed. 

Pausanias  forthwith  srnve  orders  to  the  officers  to 
prepare  themselves  for  battle,  and  imparted  to  Ari*- 
tides  the  design  he  had  formed  of  changing  hi*  order 
of  battle,  by  placin?  the  Athenians  in  (He  ri^ht  wing 
instead  of  the  left,  in  order  to  oppose  them  to  tb« 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


263 


Persian!,  with  whom  they  had  been  accustomed  to  j 
engage.  Whether  it  was  fear  or  prudence,  that  in- 
duced Pausanias  to  propose  this  new  disposition,  the 
Athenians  accepted  it  with  pleasure.  Nothing  was 
heard  among  them  but  mutual  exhortations  to  acquit 
themselves  bravely,  bidding  each  other  remember, 
that  neither  they  nor  thtir  enemies  were  changed 
since  the  battle  of  Marathon,  unless  it  was  that  \  i<  - 


Witn  all  the  alacrity  imaginable  to  change  tneir  post. 
But  Mardonius,  upon  the  intelligence  he  received  of 
this  movement,  having  made  the  like  change  in  his 
order  of  battle,  both  sides  ranged  their  troops  again 
according  to  their  former  disposition.  The  whole 
day  passed  in  this  manner,  without  their  coming  to 
action. 

In  the  evening  the  Grecians  held  a  council  of  war, 
in  which  it  was  resolved,  that  they  should  decamp 
from  the  place  they  were  in,  and  march  to  another, 
mure  conveniently  situated  for  water.  Night  being 
come,  and  the  officers  endeavouring  at  the.  head  of 
then  companies  to  push  forward  to  the  camp  marked 
out  for  them,  great  confusion  arose  among  the  troops, 
some  go  ins  one  way,  and  some  another,  without  ob- 
serun:r  aiu  order  or  regularity  in  their  march.  At 
la-t  they  halted  near  the  little  "city  of  Pla'.aeae. 

On  tile  first  news  of  the  Grecians  having  decamp- 
ed, M.ir'loiiiiis  drew  his  whole  army  into  order  of 
bailie,  and  pursued  them  with  the  hideous  shouting 
i»nd  bowiiux  of  hi«  barbarian  forces,  who  thought 
they  were  marching,  not  so  much  to  fight,  as  to  strip 
and  plunder  a  flying  enemy  :  and  their  general, 
likewise,  making  himself  sure  of  victory,  proudly 
insulted  Aitabazus,  reproaching  him  with  his  fearful 
and  cowardly  prudence,  and  with  the  false  notion  he 
had  conceived  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  who  never  fled, 
as  he  pretended,  before  an  enemy:  whereas  here  was 
an  iii-tance  of  the  contrary.  But  the  general  quickly 
found  this  was  no  false  or  ill-grounded  notion.  He 
happened  to  fall  in  with  the  Lacediemonians,  who 
were  alone  and  separated  from  the  body  of  the  Gre- 
cian army,  to  the  number  of  50,000  men,  together 
with  30<)0  of  the  Tegeans.  The  encounter  was  ex- 
ceeding fierce:  c"i  both  sides  the  men  fought  with 
the  courage  of  lions;  and  the  barbarians  perceived  that 
they  had  t'i  do  with  soldiers,  who  were  determined  to 
conquer  or  die  in  the  field.  The  Athenian  troops,  to 
whom  Pauwinias  hail  sent  an  officer,  were  already  up- 
on tho.r  march  to  aid  them:  but  the  Greeks  who  were 
on  the  »ide  of  the  Pi  r-ian",  t.»  the  number  of  50,000 
men.  w«nt  out  to  meet  them,  art'l  hindered  them  from 
pr(.i-e«-('ii!Lr  any  farther.  Aristides  with  his  little 
body  of  men  bore  up  firmly  against  them  and  with- 
stood their  attack,  letting  them  see,  how  insignificant 
«  «n;>eri  jritv  of  numbers  it  against  true  courage  and 
bravery. 

The  h-ittlp  being  thus  divided  into  two,  and  fought 
in  two  different  places,  the  Spartans  were  the  fi-  st  who 
br  ike  in  iip'.n  the  Persian  forces,  and  put  them  into 
MsM-doniu",  their  general,  falling  dead  of  a 
wound  he  had  received  in  the  encasement,  all  his 
army  betook  themselves  to  flight;  and  those  Greeks 
who  wore  engaged  a<ra:n*t  Aristides,  did  the  same, 
as  ?oon  TS  they  understood  the  barbarians  were  de- 
feated. The  latter  hud  taken  shelter  in  their  former 
earn,  vh?-e  thry  had  fortified  themselves  with  nn  in- 
rlo-.jre  ol  i.'o.id.  The  Lacedemonian!  pursued  them 
t'iitli<  r,  and  aftncKH  them  in  their  Entrenchment;  but 
this  they  did  weakly  an  I  irre«c!ut«-lv,  like  people  that 
wei'p  not  much  accustomed  to  sieves,  and  to  storm 
wdl».  The  \thenian  troops,  having  ndvirp  of  thj«. 
left  off  pursuing;  their  Grerinn  adversaries,  and  march- 
ed to  the  camp  of  the  Persians,  which  after  sevfral 
assnn.U  tliev  carried,  and  made  a  horrib  e  slaughter 
of  the  ertPtiiy. 

Artabnzui,  who  from  Mardonins'«  imprudent  man- 
agement lad  but  too  well  foreseen  the  misfortune  that 


beiVI  them,  after  having  distinguished  himself  n  th* 
engagement,  and  given  all  possible  pi  oofs  of  his  cou- 
rage and  intrepidity,  made  a  timely  retreat  with  the 
40,000  men  he  commanded;  and  preventing  his  (light 
from  being  known  by  the  expedition  of  his  march, 
arrived  sale  at  Bvzantium,  and  from  thence  returnee, 
into  Asia.  Of  all  the  rest  of  the  Persian  army,  not 
4000  men  escaped  that  day's  slaughter;  all  were 
killed  and  cut  to  pieces  by  the  Grecians,  who  by  that 
means  delivered  themselves  at  once  Irom  all  farther 
invasions  from  that  nation,  no  Persian  army  having 
ever  appeared  after  that  time  ou  this  side  the  Helles- 
pont. 

Tins  battle   was  fought   on   the 

fourth  day  of  the  month   Boedro-  A.  M.  3525. 

moil,1  according  to  the  Athenian  Ant.  J.  C.  471. 
manner  of  reckoning.  Soon  after, 
the  allies,  as  a  testimony  of  their  gratitude  to  Heaven, 
caused  a  statue  of  Jupiter  to  be  made  at  their  joint 
and  common  expense,  which  they  placed  in  hi>  tt  m- 
ple  at  Olympia.  The  names  of  the  several  nations  of 
Greece,2  that  were  pre-sent  in  the  engagement,  were 
engraven  on  the  right  side  of  the  pedestal  of  the  sta- 
tue; the  Lacedaemonians  first,  the  Athenians  next,  and 
all  the  rest  in  order.  . 

One  of  the  principal  citizens  of  £<rina  came  and 
addressed  himself  to  Pausanias,3  exhorting  him  to 
avenge  the  indignity  that  Mardonius  and  Xerxes  had 
shown  to  Leonidas,  whote  dead  body  had  been  hung 
upon  a  gallows  by  their  order,  and  urging  him  to  use 
Mnrdomus's  body  in  the  same  manner.  As  a  farther 
motive  for  doing  so,  he  added,  that  by  thus  satisfy- 
ing the  manes  of  those  that  were  killed  at  Thf  rmo- 
pylae,  he  would  be  sure  to  immortalize  his  own  name 
throughout  all  Greece,  and  make  his  memory  pre- 
cious to  the  latest  posterity.  "Carry  thy  base  coun- 
sel elsewhere,"  replied  Pausanias.  "  Thou  must  have 
a  very  wrong  notion  of  true  glory,  to  imagine  that 
the  way  for  me  to  acquire  it  is  by  resembling  the  bar- 
barians. If  the  esteem  of  the  people  ofJEgtna  is  not 
to  be  purchased  but  by  such  a  proceeding,  1  shall  be 
content  with  preserving  that  of  the  Lacedieniouians 
aione,  amongst  whom  the  base  and  ungenerous  plea- 
sure of  revenge  is  never  put  in  competition  with  that 
of  show:r.£  clemency  and  moderation  to  their  enemies 
and  especially  after  their  death.  As  for  the  manes  of 
my  departed  countrymen,  they  are  sufficiently  aven- 
ged by  the  death  of  the  many  thousand  Persians  slain 
upon  the  spot  in  the  last  engagement." 

A  dispute,4  which  arose  between  the  Athenians  and 
Laoedu  monians,  to  ascertain  which  of  the  two  nations 
should  have  the  prize  of  valour  adjudged  to  them,  as 
also  which  of  them  should  have  the  privilege  of  erect- 
ing a  trophy,  had  like  to  have  sullied  all  the  glory, 
and  imbittered  the  joy,  of  their  late  victory.  They 
were  just  on  the  point  of  carrying  things  to  the  last 
extremity,  and  would  certainly  have  decided  the  dis- 
pute witn  their  swords,  had  not  Aristides  prevailed 
upon  them  by  the  strength  of  his  arguments,  to  refer 
the  determination  of  the  matter  to  the  judgment  of 
the  Grecians  in  general.  This  proposition  being  ac- 
cepted by  both  parties,  and  the  Greeks  being  assem- 
bled upon  the  spot  to  decide  the  contest.  Theogiton 
ol  Mr^ara,  speaking  upon  the  question,  gave  it  as  his 
opinion,  that  the  prize  of  valour  ought  to  be  adjudged 
neither  to  Athens  nor  to  Spartn,  but  to  some  other 
city  ;  unless  they  desired  to  kindle  a  civil  war,  of  more 
fatal  consequences  than  that  to  which  they  had  iust 
put  an  end.  After  he  had  finished  his  speech,  Cleo- 
critus  of  Corinth  rising  up,  nobody  doubted  but  h« 
was  going  to  claim  that  honour  for  the  city  of  which 
he  was  a  member  and  a  native;  for  Corinth  wns  the 
chief  city  of  Greece  in  power  and  dignity  after  th  »?e 
of  Athens  and  Sparta.  But  every  body  was  agreeably 
deceived  when  they  found,  that  all  his  discourse  tend- 
ed to  the  praise  of'the  Plataeans,  and  that  the  conclu- 
sion he  made  from  the  whole  wn«,  that  in  order  to 
extinguish  so  dangerous  a  contention,  they  ought  to 
adjudge  the  prize  to  them  only,  against  whom  neitt.ei 


«  Thi»  day  answers  to  the  nineteenth  of  our  Srplcmhet 
»  Psiusan."  I.  v.  p.  5:$i  »  Herod.  I.  ix.  c.  77,  78. 

*  Pint,  in  Arist.  p.  331. 


204 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


of  the  contending  parties  could  have  any  grounds  of 
unger  or  jealousy.  This  diicourse  and  proposal  were 
received  with  a  general  applause  by  the  whole  assem- 
bly. Aristides  immediately  assented  to  it  on  the  part 
of  the  Athenians,  and  Pausanias  on  the  part  of  the 
Lacedaemonians. 

All  parties  being  thus  agreed,1  before  they  began 
to  divide  the  spoil  of  the  enemy,  they  put  fourscore 
talents*  aside  for  the  Plataeans,  who  laid  them  out  in 
building  a  temple  to  Minerva,  in  erecting  a  statue  to 
her  honour,  and  in  adorning  the  temple  with  curious 
and  valuable  paintings,  which  were  still  in  being  in 
Plutarch's  time,  that  is  to  say,  above  600  years  after- 
wards, and  which  were  then  as  fresh  as  if  they  had 
lately  come  out  of  the  hands  of  the  painters.  As  for 
the  trophy,  which  had  been  another  article  of  the  dis- 
pute, the  Lacedaemonians  erected  one  for  themselves 
in  particular,  and  the  Athenians  another. 

The  spoil  was  immense:  in  Mardonius's  camp  they 
found  prodigious  sums  of  gold  and  silver,  besides 
cups,  vesselsj  beds,  tables,  necklaces,  and  bracelets 
of  gold  and  silver,  not  to  be  valued  or  numbered.  It 
is  observed  by  a  certain  historian,3  that  these  spoils 
proved  fatal  to  Greece,  by  becoming  the  instruments 
of  introducing  the  love  of  riches  and  luxury  among 
her  inhabitants.  According  to  the  religious  custom 
of  the  Grecians,  before  they  divided  the  treasure,  they 
appointed  the  tenth  part  of  the  whole  to  the  use  of 
the  gods.  The  rest  was  distributed  equally  among 
the  cities  and  nations  that  had  furnished  troops;  and 
the  chief  officers  who  had  distinguished  themselves  in 
the  field  of  battle  were  likewise  distinguished  in  this 
distribution.  They  sent  a  present  of  a  golden  tripod 
to  Delphi,  in  the  inscription  upon  which  Pausanias 
caused  these  words  to  be  inserted;  TTiat  he  had  de- 
feated the  barbarians  at  Platcecc,*  and  that  in  ac- 
Knowledfrment  of  that  victory  he  had  made  this  pres- 
ent to  Jlpollo. 

This  arrogant  inscription,  wherein  he  ascribed  the 
honour  both  of  the  victory  and  the  offering  to  himself 
alone,  offended  the  Lacedaemonian  people,  who,  in 
order  to  punish  his  pride  in  the  very  point  in  which 
he  thought  to  exalt  himself,  and  at  the  game  time  to 
do  justice  to  their  confederates,  caused  his  name  to  be 
razed  out,  and  that  of  the  cities  which  hid  contributed 
to  the  victory  to  be  put  in  the  stead  of  it.  Too  ar- 
dent a  thirst  after  glory  on  this  occasion  did  not  give 
him  leave  to  consider,  that  a  man  loses  nothing  by  a 
discreet  modesty,  which  forbears  the  setting  too  hi^h 
a  value  upon  one's  own  sen-ices,  and  which,  by 
screening  a  man  from  envy,  serves  really  to  enhance 
his  reputation.5 

Pausanias  gave  a  more  advantageous  specimen  of 
the  Spartan  temper  and  disposition,  at  an  entertain- 
ment which  he  gave  a  few  days  after  the  engage- 
ment; where  one  of  the  tables  ivas  costly  and  magni- 
ficent, and  displayed  all  the  variety  of  delicacies  and 
dainties  that  used  to  be  served  at  Mardonius's  table; 
and  the  other  was  plain  and  frusral  after  the  manner 
of  the  Spartans.  Then  comparing  the  two  together, 
and  causing  his  officers,  whom  he  had  invited  on  pur- 
pose, to  observe  the  difference  of  them;  "What  mad- 
ness,1' says  he,  "was  it  in  Mardonius,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  such  a  luxurious  diet,  to  come  and  attack 
•  people  like  us,  that  know  how  to  live  without  any 
such  superfluities?" 

All  the  Grecians  sent  to  Delphi  '  to  consult  the  ora- 
cle, concerning  the  sacrifice  it  was  proper  to  offer. 
The  answer  they  received  from  the  gw1  was,  that  they 
should  erect  an  altar  to  Jupiter  the  Deliverer;  hut 
that  they  should  take  care  not  to  offer  any  sacrifice 
upon  it,  before  they  had  extinguished  all  the  fire  in 
the  country,  because  it  had  been  polluted  and  pro- 
faned by  the  barbarians;  and  that  they  should  come 

«  H-rod.  1.  !t  c.  70  HO. 

»  Eighty   thousand   crowns  French,  about  18,000?.   gtor- 

•  Victo  Mnrdntiio,  i-.nntra  rofrrta  regali*  opnlentiir  ciipta. 
HRd-;  primuin  Oracns.  divino  inter  so  auro  Persico,  divitia- 
ruin  l.uuria  c.rpit.    Justin.  I.  ii.  c.  14. 

«  Tor   N"p.  in  Piiusan.  c.  1. 

i  In<a  dissimulations  fiim-r  famam  auxit.     Tacit. 

•  Plul.  in  Arist.  p.  331,  332. 


as  far  as  Delpl.i  to  fetch  pure  fire,  w  c*>  «Ji*y  -vere 
to  take  from  the  altar,  called  the  common  aittr. 

This  answer  being  brought  to  the  Grecians  from 
the  oracle,  the  generals  immediately  dispersed  them- 
selves throughout  the  whole  country,  and  caused  all 
the  fires  to  be  extinguished:  and  Euchidas,  a  citizen 
of  Platwae,  having  taken  upon  himself  to  go  and  fetch 
the  sacred  fire  with  all  pos.sible  expedition,  made  the 
best  of  his  way  to  Delphi.  On  his  arrival  he  purified 
himself,  sprinkled  his  body  with  consecrated  water, 
put  on  a  crown  of  laurel,  and  then  approached  the 
altar,  from  whence,  with  great  reverence,  he  took  the 
holy  fire,  and  carried  it  with  him  to  Platreoe,  where  he 
arrived  before  the  setting  of  the  sun,  having  travelled 
1000  stadia  (which  make  125  miles  Knglijh)  in  one 
day.  As  soon  as  he  caiue  back,  he  saluted  his  fellow- 
citizens,  delivered  the  fire  to  them,  fell  clown  at  their 
feet,  and  died  in  a  moment  afterwards.  His  country- 
men carried  away  hi?  bodv.and  buried  it  in  the  tem- 
ple of  Diana,  surnamed  tucleia,  which  signifies,  of 
good  renown,  and  put  the  following  Kpitaph  upon  his 
tomb,  in  the  compass  of  one  verse:  Here  lies  Euchi- 
das,  who  went  from  hence  to  Delphi,  tind  returned 
back  the  same  day. 

In  the  next  general  assembly  of  Greece,  which  was 
held  not  long  alter  this  occurrence,  Arist  ides  proposed 
the  following  decree;  that  all  the  cities  of  Greece 
should  every  year  send  their  respective  deputies  to 
Platasae,  to  ofter  sacrifices  to  Jupiter  the  Deliverer, 
and  to  the  gods  of  the  city  (this  assembly  was  still 
regularly  held  in  the  time  of  Plutarch;)  that  every 
five  years  there  should  be  games  celebrated  there, 
which  should  be  called  the  games  of  liberty;  that  the 
several  states  of  Greece,  together  shot. Id  raise  a  body 
of  troops,  consisting  of  10,000  foot  and  1000  horse 
»nd  should  equip  a  fleet  of  100  ships,  which  should 
be  constantly  maintained  for  making  war  against  the 
barbarians;  and  that  the  inhabitants  of  Plat;r;e,  solely 
devoted  to  the  service  of  the  gods,  should  be  looked 
upon  as  sacred  and  inviolable,  and  be  concerned  in 
no  other  function  than  that  of  offering  prayers  and 
sacrifices  for  the  general  preservation  and  prosperity 
of  Greece. 

AH  these  articles  being  approved  of  and  passed  into 
a  law,  the  citizens  of  Plataeae  took  upon  them  to  so- 
lemnize, every  year,  the  anniversary  festival  in  honour 
of  those  persons  that  were  slain  in  the  battle.  The 
order  and  manner  of  performing  this  sacrifice  was  as 
follows:  The  sixteenth  day  of  the  month  Maintacte- 
rion,7  which  answers  to  our  month  of  December,  at 
day-break,  they  walked  in  a  solemn  procession,  which 
was  preceded  by  a  trumpet  that  sounded  to  battle. 
Next  to  the  trumpet  marched  several  chariots,  tilled 
with  crowns  and  branches  of  myrtle.  After  these 
chariots  was  led  a  black  bull,  behind  whicli  marched 
a  company  of  young  persons,  carrying  pitchers  in  their 
hands,  full  of  wine  and  milk,  the  ordinary  libations 
offered  to  the  dead,  and  phials  of  oil  and  perfumes. 
All  these  young  persons  were  freemen;  for  no  slave 
was  allowed  to  have  any  part  in  this  ceremony,  which 
was  instituted  for  men  who  had  lost  their  lives  for 
liberty.  In  the  rear  of  this  procession  followed  the 
archon,  or  chief  magistrate  of  the  Platasans,  for  whom 
it  was  unlawful  at  any  other  time  even  so  nuch  as  to 
touch  iron,  or  to  wear  any  other  garment  than  a  whitr 
one.  But  upon  this  occasion,  being  clad  in  purple 
raiment,  having  a  sword  by  his  side,  and  holding  an 
urn  in  his  hands,  which  he  took  from  the  place  where 
they  kept  their  public  records,  he  marched  through 
the  city  to  the  place  whore  the  tombs  of  his  country - 
men  were  erected.  As  soon  as  he  cmne  there,  he 
drew  water  with  his  urn  from  the  fountain,  washed 
with  his  own  hands  the  little  colqyiins  that  belonged 
to  the  tomb«,  rubbed  them  afterwards  with  essence, 
and  then  killed  the  bull  upon  a  pile  of  wood  prepared 
for  that  purpose.  After  having  offered  up  prayers  to 
the  terrestrial  Jupiter8  and  Mercury,  he  invited  those 


'  Three  month*  after  that  in  which  tlin  hntiln  if  TlntMS 
was  fouirht.  Probably  the»o  funeral  rites  wern  nol  nl  first 
performed  till  the  enemy  were  entirely  gone,  and  tin-  cuun- 
try  win  free. 

•  The  terrestrial  Jupiter  is  no  other  than  Pluto;  and  lh» 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


205 


P 

ir 


nt  sonls  deceased  to  come  to  their  feast,  and  to 
artake  of  their  funeral  libations:  then  taking  a  cup 
jn  his  hand,  and  having  filled  it  with  wine,  he  poured 
it  out  on  the  ground,  and  said  with  a  loud  voire: — 
I prenent  thii  cup  to  those  valiant  men,  who  died  for 
the  liticrty  of  (he  Grecians.  These  ceremonies  were 
annually  performed  even  in  the  time  of  Plutarch. 

Drvlorus  a.lds,1  that  the  Athenians  in  particular 
embellished  the  monuments  of  their  citizens,  who 
died  in  the  war  with  the  Persians,  with  magnificent 
ornaments,  instituted  funeral  games  to  their  honour, 
•nd  appointed  a  solemn  panegyric  to  be  pronounced 
orer  them,  which  in  all  probability  was  repeated  eve- 
ry vcar. 

1'1,-F.  reader  will  be  sensible,  without  my  observing 
It,  how  much  these  solemn  testimonies  and  perpetual 
demonstrations  of  honour,  esteem,  and  gratitude  for 
•oldiers.  who  had  sacrificed  their  lives  in  the  defence 
of  liberty,  conduced  to  enhance  the  merit  of  valour, 
and  of  the  services  they  rendered  their  country,  and 
lo  inspire  the  spectators  with  emulation  and  courage: 
and  how  exceedingly  well  calculated  all  this  was  to 
cultivate  and  perpetuate  a  spirit  of  bravery  in  the 
peonle,  and  to  make  their  troops  victorious  and  in- 
rincible. 

The  reader,  no  doubt,  will  be  as  much  struck  at 
»eeino;  how  wonderfully  careful  and  exact  these  peo- 
ple were  to  acquit  themselves  on  every  occasion  of  the 
duties  of  religion.  The  great  event  which  I  have  just 
been  relating,  viz.  the  battle  of  Plattete,  affords  us  very 
remarkable  proofs  of  this,  in  the  annual  and  perpetu- 
al sacrifice  they  instituted  to  Jupiter  the  Deliverer, 
which  was  still  continued  in  the  time  of  Plutarch:  in 
th*  care  they  took  to  consecrate  the  tenth  part  of  all 
their  spoil  to  the  gods;  and  :n  the  decree  proposed 
by  AristHes  to  establish  a  solemn  festival  for  ever,  as 
an  anniversary  commemoration  of  that  success.  It  is 
a  delightful  thing,  methinks,  to  see  pagan  and  idola- 
tron«  nations  thus  publicly  confessing  and  declaring, 
that  all  thf-ir  expectations  centre  in  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing: that  they  think  themselves  obliged  to  ascribe  the 
success  of  all  their  undertakings  to  him;  that  they 
lo  ik  uiion  him  a«  the  Author  of  all  their  victories  and 
prosperities,  as  the  sovereign  ruler  and  disposer  of 
»tato«  and  nupires.  as  the  source  from  whence  all  salu- 
tary counsels,  wisdom,  and  courage,  are  derived;  and 
•s  entitled,  on  all  these  accounts,  to  the  first  and  best 
part  of  their  spoils,  and  to  their  perpetual  acknow- 
let'criiK  nts  and  thanksgivings  for  such  distinguished 
favours  and  benefits. 

SECTION  X.— THE  BATTLE  NEAR  MYCALE.      THE 

DEFEAT  OF  THE    PERSIANS. 

ON  the  same  day  that  the  Greeks  fought  the  battle 
of  PlitT?p,*  their  naval  forces  obtained  a  memorable 
rictnrv  in  -\sia  over  the  remainder  of  the  Persian  fleet. 
For  whiUt  that  of  the  Greeks  lay  at  JEyinit,  under 
the  coimmnd  of  Leotychides,  one  of  the  kin^s  of 
Sparta,  and  of  Xanthippus  the  Athenian,  ambassa- 
dors came  to  those  generals  from  the  Ionian*  to  invite 
them  into  Asia  to  deliver  the  Grecian  cities  from  their 
subjection  to  the  barbarians.  On  this  invitation  they 
immediately  «et  sail  for  Asia,  and  steered  their  cour«» 
by  Delos.  While  they  continued  there,  ocner  ainbas- 
•ailors  arrived  from  Samos,  and  brought  them  intelli- 
gence, that  the  Persian  fleet,  which  had  pasted  the 
winter  nt  Ciim:?,  was  then  at  Same;,  where  it  would 
be  aii  ensv  matter  to  defeat  and  destroy  it,  earnestly 
pressing  them  at  the  same  time  not  to'neglect  so  fii 
vourahle  an  opportunity.  The  Greeks  hereupon  sailed 
•way  directly  for  Samos.  But  the  Persians,  receiving: 
intelligence  of  their  approach,  retired  to  Mycale,  a 
promontory  nf  the  continent  of  Asia,  where  their  land 
army,  consisting-  of  'OO.OOO  men,  who  were  the  re- 
mainder of  those  that  Xerxes  had  carried  back  from 
Greece  the  year  before.  wa«  encamped.  Here  they 
•irew  their  vessels  ashore,  which  was  a  common  prac- 
tice among  the  ancients,  an'l  surrounded  them  with  a 

tnme  rpiih'-t  <if  tfrroetrml  wa»  iil-o  siren  to  Mrrrnrv  ;  tw>- 
raoof  it  wa*  l*>liov«>d  »o  he  his  office  to  conduct  departed 
»rml<  in  the  infernal  regions. 

»  l.ih.  si.  p.  2fi. 

»  Floret.  I.  i*.  c.  80- 105.     Uiod.  1.  xi.  p.  2C-2& 

VOL.  I.— 34 


I  stroig  rampart.     The  Grecians  followed  them  to  the 
]  very  place,  and  with  the  help  of  the  Ionian-  defeated 
their  land  army,  forced  their  rampart,  and  burnt  all 
their  vessels. 

TK;  battle  of  Platase  was  fought  in  the  morning 
and  that  of  Mycale  in  the  afternoon  on  the  same  day 
and  y  >t  all  the  Greek  writers  pretend  that  the  victory 
of  Platsae  was  known  at  Mycale.  before  the  latter  eu- 
gagen  ent  was  begun,  though  the  wholr  jEgean  sea, 
which  requires  several  days'  sailing'  to  cross  it,  was 
betwet  n  those  two  places.  But  Diodorus  Sicului 
*xplairs  to  us  this  mystery.  He  ttlls  us,  that  Ltoly- 
chides,  observing  his  soldiers  to  be  much  dejected  for 
tear  tin  ir  countrymen  at  Mat;e;«  should  sink  under 
the  nun  bersof  M'ardonius's  army,  contrived  a  strata- 
gem to  leanimate  them;  and  that,  therefore,  win  r,  he 
was  just  upon  the  point  of  making  the  first  attack, 
he  caused  a  rumour  to  be  spread  among  his  troops,* 
that  the  Persians  were  defeated  at  PIat;we,  though  at 
that  time  he  had  no  manner  of  knowledge  ot  the 
matter. 

Xerxes,*  hearing  the  news  of  these  two  great  over- 
throws, left  Sirdis  with  as  much  haste  as  he  had  for- 
merly quitted  Athens,  after  the  battle  of  Salamis,  and 
retired  with  great  precipitation  into  Persia,  in  order 
to  put  himseif,  as  far  as  he  possibly  could,  out  of  the 
reach  of  his  victorious  enemies.  But  before  he  set 
out,*  he  gave  orders  to  burn  and  demolish  all  the  tem- 
ples belonging  to  the  Grecian  cities  in  Asia:  which 
order  was  so  far  executed,  that  not  one  escaped,  ex- 
cept the  temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus.  He  acted  in 
this  manner  at  the  instigation  of  the  Magi.6  who  were 
professed  enemies  to  temples  and  images.  The  se- 
cond Zoroaster  had  thoroughly  instructed  him  in 
their  religion,  and  made  him  a  zealous  defender  of  it. 
Pliny  informs  us,"  that  Ostanes,  the  head  of  the  Magi, 
and  the  patriarch  of  that  sect,  who  maintained  it] 
maxims  and  interests  with  the  greatest  violence,  at- 
tended Xerxes  u|>on  this  expedition  into  Greece.  Thii 
prince,*  as  he  passed  through  Babylon  on  his  return 
to  Susa,  destroyed  also  all  the  temples  in  that  city,  as 
he  had  done  those  of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor;  doubt- 
less, through  the  janie  principle,  and  out  of  hatred  to 
the  sect  of  the  Sahae?.ns,  who  made  use  of  images  in 
their  divine  worship,  which  was  a  thing  utterly  de- 
tested by  the  Magi.  Perhaps,  also,  the  desire  ol  ma- 
king himself  amends  for  the  expenses  incurred  in  his 
Grecian  expedition  by  the  spoil  and  plunder  of  those 
temples,  might  be  another  motive  that  induced  hirj 
to  destroy  them:  for  it  is  certain,  he  found  immense 
riches  and  treasure  in  them,  which  had  been  amassed 
through  the  superstition  of  princes  and  people  during 
a  long  series  of  ages. 

The  Grecian  fleet,  after  the  battle  of  Mycale,  set 
sail  towards  ihe  Hellespont,  in  order  to  possess  them- 
selves of  the  bridges  which  Xerxes  had  reused  to  be 
laid  over  that  narrow  passage,  and  which  they  sup- 
posed were  still  entire:  but  finding  them  broken 
down  by  tempestuous  weather,  Leotychides  and  his 
Pfrloponnesian  forces  returned  towards  their  own 
country.  As  for  Xanthippus,  he  stayed  with  the 
Athenians  and  their  Ionian  confederates,  and  they 
made  themselves  masters  of  Sestus  and  the  Thracian 
Chersonesus,  in  which  placet  they  found  great  booty, 
and  took  a  vast  number  of  prisoners.  After  which, 
on  the  approach  of  winter,  they  returned  to  their  owi 
cities. 

From  this  time  all  the  cities  of  Ionia  revolted  from 
the  Persians,  and  having  entered  into  a  confederacy 
with  the  Grecians,  most  of  them  preserved  their  lib- 
erty duiing  the  time  that  empire  subsisted. 

SECTION   XI. — THE   BARBAROUS    >.\D    INHUMAN 
REVK.NGE  OF  A.MESTRIS,  THE  WIFE  OF  XERXES. 
DURING    the   time    that  Xerxes 

resided  Ht  Sardis,*  he  conceived  a  A.  M.  3525. 

violent  passion  for  the  wife  of  bis      Ant.  J.  C.  -179. 


•  What  we  are  told  nlsoof  Pnulni  ^miHon'i  rirtorr  wsi 
tlie  Murrdonian*,  H-hirh  wan  known  at  Rome  th<-  vrry  day  i 
was  obtained,  without  doubt  happened  in  Ihe  same  manlier 

•  Diiid.  I.  xi.  p.  2&  •  Strab.  I.  xiv.  p.  6:M 
«  ("ir.  I.  ii.  dr  Leg.  n.  29.  '  Plin.  I.  xxx.  c.  i. 

•  Arrian  I.  vii.  •  Herod.  I.  ix.  c.  107—119 

X 


206 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


brother  Masiste*,  who  was  a  prince  of  extraordinary 
merit,  had  always  served  the  king  with  great  zeal  and 
fidelity,  and  had  never  done  any  thing  to  disoblige 
him.  "The  virtue  of  this  lady,  her  great  affection  and 
fidelity  to  her  husband,  made  her  inexorable  to  all 
the  king's  solicitations.  However,  he  still  flattered 
himself,  that  by  a  profusion  of  favours  and  liberalities 
he  might  possibly  gain  upon  her;  and  among  other 
favours  which  he  conferred  upon  her,  he  inarm  d  his 
eldest  son  Darius,  whom  he  intended  for  his  success- 
or, to  Artainta,  this  princess's  daughter,  and  ordered 
that  the  marriage  should  be  consummated  as  soon  a* 
be  arrived  at  Susa.  But  Xerxes  finding  the  lady  still 
no  less  impregnable,  in  spite  of  all  his  temptations 
•nd  attacks,  immediately  changed  his  object,  and  fell 
passionately  in  love  with  her  daughter,  who  did  not 
imitate  the  glorious  example  of  her  mother's  constan- 
cy and  virtue.  Whilst  this  intrigue  was  carrying  on, 
Atnestris,  wife  to  Xerxes,  presented  him  with  a  rich 
an.l  magnificent  robe  of  her  own  making.  Xerxes, 
being  extremelv  pleased  with  this  robe,  thought  fit 
to  put  it  on  upon  the  first  visit  he  afterwards  made  to 
Artainta;  and  in  conversation  pressed  her  to  let  him 
know  what  she  desired  he  should  do  for  her,  assuring^ 
her,  at  the  same  time,  with  an  oath,  that  he  would 
grant  her  whatever  she  asked  of  him.  Artainta,  upon 
this,  desired  him  to  give  her  the  robe  he  had  on. 
Xerxes,  foreseeing  the  ill  consequences  that  would  ne- 
cessarily ensue  upon  his  making  her  this  present,  did 
all  that  he  could  to  dissuade  her  from  insisting  upon 
it,  and  offered  her  any  thing  in  the  world  in  lieu  of  it. 
But  not  being  able  to  prevail  upon  her,  and  thinking 
himself  bound  by  the  imprudent  promise  and  oath  he 
had  made  to  her,  he  gave  her  the  robe.  The  lady  no 
sooner  received  it,  than  she  put  it  on,  and  wore  it 
publicly  by  way  of  trophy. 

Amestris  being  confirmed  in  the  suspicion  she  had 
entertained  by  this  action,  was  enraged  to  the  last  de- 
gree. But  instead  of  letting  her  vengeance  fall  upon 
the  daughter,  who  was  the  only  offender,  she  resolved 
to  wreak  it  upon  the  mother,  whom  she  looked  upon 
as  the  author  of  the  whole  intrigue,  though  she  was 
entirely  innocent  of  the  matter.  For  the  better  exe- 
cuting of  her  purpose,  she  waited  until  the  grand 
feast,  which  was  every  year  celebrated  on  the  king's 
birth-day,  and  which  was  not  far  off;  on  which  occa- 
sion the  king,  according  to  the  established  custom  of 
the  country,  granted  her  whatever  she  demanded. 
Thi«  dav  then  being  come,  the  tiling  which  she  de- 
•iretl  of  his  majesty  was,  thai  the  wife  of  Masistes 
should  be  delivered  into  her  hands.  Xerxes,  who 
apprehended  the  queen's  design,  and  who  was  struck 
with  horror  at  the  thoughts  of  it,  as  well  as  out  of  re- 
gurd  to  his  brother,  as  on  account  of  the  innocence 
of  the  l;idy,  against  whom  he  perceived  his  wife  was 
violently  exasperated,  at  first  refused  her  request,  and 
endeavoured  all  he  could  to  dissuade  her  from  it. 
But  not  being  able  either  to  prevail  upon  her,  or  to 
act  with  steadiness  and  resolution  himself,  he  at  last 
yielded,  and  was  guiltv  of  complaisance  equally  weak 
and  cruel ;  making  the  inviolable  obligations  of  jus- 
tice and  humanity  give  way  to  the  arbitrary  laws  of  a 
custom,  that  had  been  established  solely  to  give  oc- 
casion lor  the  doing  of  good,  and  for  acts  of  benefi- 
cence and  generosity.  In  consequence  then  of  this 
compliance,  the  Udy  was  apprehended  by  the  king's 
guards,  and  delivered  to  Amestris,  who  caused  her 
breasts,  tongue,  nose,  ears,  and  lips,  to  be  cut  off, 
ordered  them  to  be  cast  to  the  dogs  In  her  own  pre- 
sence, an'l  then  sent  her  home  to  her  hinband's  house 
in  that  mutilated  and  miserable  condition.  In  the 
mean  time  Xerxes  haH  sent  for  his  brother,  in  order 
to  pre|>are  him  for  this  melancholy  and  tragical  ad- 
venture. He  first  gave  him  to  understand,  that  he 
should  be  glid  he  would  put  away  his  wife;  and,  to 
Induce  him  thereto,  offered  to  give  him  one  of  his 
daughters  in  marriage  in  her  stead.  But  Masistes, 
who  was  passionately  fond  of  his  wife,  coifld  not  pre- 
vail upon  him»elf  to  divorce  her:  whereupon  Xerxes 
in  ereat  wrath  told  him,  that  since  he  refused  his 
daujhter  he  should  neither  have  her  nor  his  wife,  and 
that  he  would  teach  him  not  to  reject  the  offers  his 


master  had  made  him;  and  with  this  inhuman  rejilj 
dismissed  him. 

Tliis  strange  proceeding  threw  Masistes  i.ilo  the 
greatest  anxiety,  thinking  he  had  reason  to  apprehend 
the  wor«t;  he  made  all  the  haste  he  could  home  to 
see  what  had  passed  there  during  his  absence.  On  his 
arrival  he  found  his  wife  in  that  deplorable  condition 
we  have  just  been  describing.  Being  enraged  thertat 
to  the  degree  we  may  naturally  imagine,  he  assem- 
bled all  his  family,  his  servants  and  dependants,  and 
set  out  with  all  possible  expedition  for  Bactriana, 
whereof  he  was  governor,  determined,  as  soon  as  he 
arrived  there,  to  raise  an  army  and  make  war  against 
the  king,  in  order  to  avenge  himself  for  this  barbarous 
treatment.  But  Xerxes  being  informed  of  hi?  hasty 
departure,  and  from  thence  suspecting  his  design, 
sent  a  party  of  horse  to  pursue  him;  which,  having 
overtaken  him,  cut  him  in  pieces,  together  with  his 
children  and  all  his  retinue.  I  do  not  know  whether 
a  more  tragical  example  of  revenge  than  that  which 
I  have  now  related,  is  to  be  found  in  history. 

There  is  still  another  action,1  no  less  cruel  nor  im- 
pious than  the  former,  related  of  Amestris.  She 
caused  fourteen  children  of  the  best  families  in  Persia 
to  be  burnt  alive,  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  infernal  gods, 
out  of  compliance  with  a  superstitious  custom  practi- 
sed by  the  Persians. 

Ma-isles  being  dead,8  Xerxes  gave  the  government 
of  Bactriana  to  his  second  son  Hystaspes_,  who  being 
by  that  means  obliged  to  live  at  a  distance  from  the 
court,  gave  his  younger  brother  Artaxerxes  the  op- 
portunity of  ascending  the  throne  to  his  disadvantage, 
after  the  death  of  their  father,  as  will  be  seen  in  the 
sequel. 

Here  ends  Herodotus's  history,  viz.  at  the  battle 
of  Mycale  and  the  siege  of  the  city  of  Sestos  by  the 
Athenians. 

SECTION   XII. — THE    ATHENIANS     REBUILD    THE 
WALLS   OF   THKIR   CITY,  NOTWITHSTANDING  THE 
OPPOSITION   OF  THE    LACEDJEMONIA.NS. 
THE  war,  commonly  called    the 
war  of  Media.*   which  had  lasted  A.  M.  3526. 

but  two  years,  being  terminated  in  Ant.  J.  C.  478. 
the  manner  we  have  mentioned,  the 
Athenians,  on  their  return  to  their  own  country,  sent 
for  their  wives  and  children,  whom  they  hacf  com- 
mitted to  the  care  of  their  friends  during  the  war, 
and  began  to  think  of  rebuilding  the  city,  which  had 
been  almost  entirety  destroyed  by  the  Persians,  an  1 
of  surrounding  it  with  strong  walls,  in  order  to  secure 
it  from  future  violence.  The  Lacedaemonians  having 
intelligence  of  this,  conceived  a  jealousy,  and  began 
to  apprehend,  that  if  Athens,  which  was  already  very 
powerful  by  sea,  shoukl  go  op  to  increase  her  strength 
by  land  also,  she  might  take  upon  her  in  lime  to  give 
laws  to  Sparta,  anrl  to  deprive  the  latter  of  that  au- 
thority and  pre-eminence,  which  she  had  hitherto  ex- 
ercised over  the  rest  of  Greece.  They  therefore  sent 
an  embassy  to  the  Athenians,  the  purport  of  which 
was  to  represent  to  them,  that  the  common  interest 
of  Greece  required,  that  there  should  be  no  fortified 
city  out  of  the  Peloponnesus,  lest,  in  case  of  a  second 
irruption,  it  should  serve  for  a  place  of  arms  for  the 
Persians,  who  would  be  sure  to  settle  themselves  in 
it,  as  they  had  done  before  at  Thebes,  and  who  from 
thence  would  be  able  to  infest  the  whole  country,  and 
to  make  themselves  masters  of  it  very  speedily.  The- 
mistocles,  who  since  the  battle  of  Salamis  was  greatly 
considered  and  respected  at  Athens,  easily  penetrated 
into  the  real  design  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  though  it 
was  gilded  over  with  the  specious  pretext  of  the  pub- 
lic good:  but,  a«  the  latter  were  able,  with  the  a-^sis 
tance  of  their  allies,  to  hinder  the  Athenian',  hv  force, 
from  carrying  on  the  work,  in  case  they  should  posi- 
tively and  absolutely  refuse  to  comply  with  their  de- 
mands, he  advised  the  senate  to  make  use  of  cunning 
and  dissimulation  as  well  as  the  Lacednemonian*. 


i  Hprod.  I.  »ii.  c.  114.  *  Dio.1.  I.  li.  p.  53. 

•  Thur)d.  I.  i.  p.  59— 63.     Diod.  1.  ji.  p.  30,  31       .ust.  I 
ii.  c.  3.  15. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


207 


The  answer  therefore  tley  made  the  envoys  was,  that 
they  would  send  an  embassy  to  Sparta,  to  satisfy  the 
commonwealth  with  respect  to  their  apprehensions 
an:l  suspicions.  Themistocles  caused  himself  to  be 
nominated  one  of  the  ambassadors,  and  warned  the 
senate  not  to  let  his  colleagues  set  out  along  with 
him,  but  to  send  them  one  after  another,  in  order  to 
gain  time  for  carrying  on  the  work.  The  matter  was 
executed  pursuant  to  his  advice;  and  he  accordingly 
went  alone  to  Lacedaemon,  where  he  let  a  great  many 
days  pas?  without  waiting  upon  the  magistrates,  or 
applying  to  the  senate.  And,  upon  their  pressing  him 
to  do  it,  and  asking  him  the  reason  why  he  deferred 
it  to  long,  he  made  answer,  that  he  waited  for  the  ar- 
riva  of  his  colleagues,  that  they  might  all  have  their 
•udience  of  the  senate  together,  ar.d  seemed  to  be 
very  much  surprised  that  they  were  so  long  in  coming. 
At  length  they  arrived;  but  all  came  singly,  and  at  a 
good  distance  of  time  from  one  another.  During  all 
this  interval,  the  work  was  carried  on  at  Athens  with 
the  utmost  industry  and  vigour.  The  women,  chil- 
dren, strangers,  and  slaves,  were  all  employed  in  it; 
nor  was  it  interrupted  night  or  day.  The  Spartans 
were  not  ignorant  of  the  matter,  and  made  great  com- 
plaints of  it  to  Themistocles,  who  positively  denied 
the.  fart,  and  pressed  them  to  send  other  deputies  to 
Athens,  in  order  to  inform  themselves  better  on  the 
subject,  desiring  them  not  to  give  credit  to  vague  and 
flying  reports  without  foundation.  At  the  same  time 
he  secretly  advised  the  Athenians  to  detain  the  Spar- 
tan envoys  as  so  many  hostages,  until  he  and  his  col- 
leagues were  returned  from  their  embassy,  fearing, 
not  without  good  reason,  that  they  themselves  might 
be  served  in  the  same  manner  at  Sparta.  At  last, 
when  all  his  colleagues  were  arrived,  he  desired  an 
audience,  and  declared,  in  full  senate,  that  it  was  real- 
ly true  that  the  Athenians  had  resolved  to  fortify  their 
city  with  strong  walls;  that  the  work  was  almost  com- 
pleted ;  that  they  had  judged  it  to  be  absolutely  ne- 
ci  -viry  for  their  own  security,  and  for  the.  public  good 
of  the  allies;  telling  them  at  the  same  time,  that  after 
the  great  experience  they  had  had  of  the  Athenian 
people's  behaviour,  they  could  not  well  suspect  them 
of  being1  wanting  in  zeal  for  the  common  interest  of 
their  country  ;  that,  as  the  condition  and  privileges  of 
all  the  allies  ought  to  be  equal,  it  was  just  the  Athe- 
nians should  provide  for  their  own  safety  by  all  the 
methods  they  judged  necessary,  ns  well  as  the  other 
confederates;  that  they  hsd  thought  of  this  expedient, 
and  were  in  a  condition  lo  defend  their  city  against 
whosoever  should  presume  to  attack  it;  and  that  as 
for  the  Lacedaemonian*,1  it  was  not  much  for  their 
honour  that  they  should  desire  to  establish  their  power 
and  superiority  rather  upon  the  weak  and  defenceless 
condition  of  thVir  allies,  than  upon  their  own  strength 
and  valour.  The  Lacedemonians  were  extremely 
displeased  with  this  discourse:  but  either  out  of  a 
sense  of  gratitude  and  esteem  for  the  Athenians,  who 
had  rendered  such  important  services  to  the  country, 
or  out  of  a  conviction  of  their  inability  to  oppose 
tYit'ir  enterprise,  they  dissembled  Iheir  resentment; 
end  the  ambassadors  on  both  sides,  having  all  suita- 
ble honours  paid  them,  returned  to  their  respective 
cities. 

Themistocles,1  who  had  always  his  thoughts  fixed 
nnon  raisins:  and  augmenting  the  power  and  glory  of 
the  Athenian  commonwealth,  did  not  confine  his 
views  to  the  walls  of  the  city.  He  went  on  with  the 
samp  vigorous  implication  to  finish  the  building-  and 
fortifications  of  the  Piraeus:  for,  from  the  time  that  he 
hnH  entered  into  office,  he  had  begun  that  great  work. 
He  to  re  hU  time  they  had  no  other  port  at  Athens  than 
that  of  Phalern*,  which  wa«  neither  very  large  nor 
commodious,  and  consequently  net  canable  of  answer- 
ing  the  grenl  designs  of  Themistocles.  For  this  rea- 
§sn  he  ha'!  cast  hU  eye  upon  the  Pirtprus,  which 
itemed  to  invite  him  by  its  advantageous  situation, 
and  by  the  conveniency  of  its  three  spacious  havens, 

<  Ornvitpr  cn«ti?«t  PO«.  rjuftd  non  virtutc.  §pd  imhrcilli- 
!•)<•  wwmruni  pototymm  <|n*-rprent.     ./K.«M'n.  I.  ii.  c.   15. 
»  ThuKvd  p.  tfi,  63.     Diud.  1.  ii.  p  32.  33. 


that  were  capable  of  containing  aoo\e  -tOO  vessels. 
This  undertaking  was  prosecuted  with  so  much  dili- 
gence and  vivacity,  that  the  work  was  consiuerably 
advanced  in  a  very  little  time.  Themistocles  likewise 
obtained  a  decree,  that  every  year  they  should  build 
twenty  vessels  for  the  augmentation  of  their  fleet ;  and 
in  order  to  engage  a  greater  number  of  workmen  and 
sailors  to  resort  to  Athens,  he  caused  particular  pri- 
vileges and  immunities  to  be  granted  in  their  favour. 
His  desijrn  was,  as  I  have  already  observed,  to  make 
the  whole  force  of  Athens  maritime;  in  which  he 
followed  a  very  different  scheme  from  what  had  been 
pursued  by  their  ancient  kings,  who,  endeavouring 
all  they  could  to  alienate  the  minds  of  the  citizens 
from  seafaring  business  and  from  war,  and  to  make 
them  apply  themselves  wholly  to  agriculture  and  to 

Keareable  employments,  published  this  fable  :  that 
liuerva  disputing  with  .Neptune  to  know  which  of 
them  sh.7s!.-»  h-t  declared  patron  of  Attica,  and  give 
their  name  to  the  city  newly  built,  she  gained  her 
cause  by  showing  her  judges  the  branch  of  an  olive- 
tree,  the  happy  symbol  of  peace  and  plenty,  which 
she  had  planted:  whereas  Neptune  had  made  a  fiery 
horse,  the  symbol  of  war  and  confusion,  rise  out  ot 
the  earth  before  them. 

SECTION  XIII. — THE  BLACK  DESIGN  OF  THEMIS- 
TOCLES  REJECTED  UNANIMOUSLY  BY  THE  PEO- 
PLE OF  ATHENS.  ARISTIDES'S  CONDESCENSION 
TO  THE  PEOPI.E. 

THEMISTOCLES.S  who  had  conceived  in  his  breast 
the  design  of  supplanting  the  Lacedaemonians,  and 
of  taking  the  government  of  Greece  out  of  their 
hands,  in  order  to  put  it  into  those  of  the  Athenians, 
kept  his  eye  and  his  thoughts  continually  fixed  upon 
that  great  project.  And  as  he  was  not  very  nice  or 
scrupulous  in  the  choice  of  his  measures,  whatever 
tended  towards  the  accomplishing  of  the  end  he  had 
in  view,  he  looked  upon  as  just  and  lawful.  On  a 
certain  day,  then,  he  declared  in  a  full  assembly  of 
the  people,  that  he  had  planned  a  very  important  de- 
sign, but  that  he  could  not  communicate  it  to  the 
people;  because,  in  order  to  ensure  success,  it  was 
necessary  that  it  should  be  carried  on  with  the  great- 
est secrecy:  he  therefore  desired  they  would  appoint 
a  person  to  whom  he  might  explain  himself  upon 
the  matter  in  question.  Aristides  was  unanimously 
pitched  upon  by  the  whole  assembly,  and  they  re- 
ferred themselves  entirely  to  his  opinion  of  the  affair; 
so  great  a  confidence  had  they  both  in  his  probity  and 
prudence.  Themistocles,  therefore,  having  taken  him 
aside,  told  him,  that  the  design  he  had  conceived  was 
lo  burn  the  fleet  belonging  to  the  rest  of  the  Grecian 
states,  which  then  lay  in  a  neighbouring  port,  and 
that  by  this  means  Athens  would  certainly  become 
mistress  of  all  Greece.  Aristides  hereupon  returnee, 
to  the  assembly,  and  only  declared  to  them,  that  in- 
deed nothing  could  be  more  advantageous  to  the  com- 
monwealth than  Themistocles 's  project;  but  that,  at 
the  sa.me  time,  nothing  could  be  more  unjust.  All 
the  people  unanimously  ordained,  that  Tlumistocles 
should  entirely  desist  from  his  project.  We  see  in 
this  instance,  that  it  was  not  without  some  foundation 
that  the  title  of  Just  was  given  to  Aristides,  even  in 
his  lifetime;  a  title,  says  Plutarch,  infinitely  superior 
to  all  those  which  conquerors  pursue  with  so  much 
ardour,  and  whir-h  in  some  measure  approximates  a 
man  to  the  Divinity. 

I  know  not  whether  all  history  can  afford  us  a  fact 
more  worthy  of  admiration  than  this.  It  is  not  a  com- 
pany of  phifosophers  (to  whom  it  costs  nothing  to  es- 
tablish fine  maxims  and  sublime  notions  of  morality 
in  the  school*,)  who  determine  on  this  occasion,  that 
the  consideration  of  profit  and  advantage  ought  never 
to  prevail  in  preference  to  what  is  honest  nnd  just. 
It  is  an  entire  people,  who  are  highly  interested  in  the 
proposal  made  to  them,  who  are  convinced  that  it 
is  of  the  greatest  importance  for  the  welfare  of  the 
sthte,  and  who  notwithstanding  reject  it  with  unani- 
mous consent  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  and 

•  Plot,  in  Themiit.  p.  131,  123     In  Arid.  p.  333. 


268 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


that  for  this  only  reason,  that  it  is  contrary  to  jugtire. 
How  black  and"  perfidious,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
the  design  which  Themislocles  proposed,  of  burning 
the  Meet  of  their  Grecian  confetlt  rates,  at  a  time  of 
entire  peace,  solely  to  aggrandize  the  power  of  the 
Athenians!  Had  he  a  hundred  times  the  merit  that 
is  ascribed  to  him,  this  --ingle  action  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  sullv  all  the  brilliancy  of  I. is  ?rl"ry.  For  it  is 
the  heart,  that  is  to  say,  integrity  and  probity,  that 
constitute  true  merit. 

I  am  sorry  that  Plutarch,  who  generally  judges  of 
things  with  great  justness,  does  not  seem,  on  this  oc- 
casion, to  condemn  Themistocles.  After  having-  spo- 
k<  n  of  the  works  he  had  constructed  in  the  Piraeeus, 
he  goes  on  to  the  fact  in  question,  of  which  he  savs, 
"Themistocles/projected  something  still  greater,  ior 
the  augmentation  of  their  maritime  power."1 

The  Lacedaemonians  having  proposed,  in  the  coun- 
cil of  the  Amphictyons,  that  all  the  cities  which  had 
not  taken  arms  against  Xerxes  should  be  excluded 
from  that  assembly,  Themistocles,  who  was  appre- 
hensive that,  if  the  Thessalians,  the  Argives,  and  the 
Thebans  were  excluded  that  council,  the  Spartans 
woiil.l  by  that  means  become  masters  of  the  suffrages, 
and  consequently  determine  all  affairs  according  to 
their  pleasure,  made  a  speech  in  behalf  of  the  cities 
whose  exclusion  was  proposed,  and  brought  the  de- 
puties that  composed  the  assembly  over  to  his  senti- 
ments. He  represented  to  them,  that  the  greatest 
part  of  the  cities  that  had  entered  into  the  confedera- 
cy, which  were  but  one-and-thirtv  in  the  whole,  were 
very  small  and  inconsiderable;  that  it  would  therefore 
be  n  very  sirange,  as  well  as  a  very  dangerous  pro- 
ceeding, to  deprive  all  the  other  cities  of  Greece  of 
their  votes  and  places  in  the  grand  assembly  of  the 
nation,  and  by  that  means  suffer  the  august  council  of 
the  Amphictyons  to  fall  under  the  direction  and  in- 
fluence of  two  or  three  of  the  most  powerful  cities, 
which  for  the  future  would  give  law  to  all  the  rest, 
and  would  subvert  and  abolish  that  equality  of  (row- 
er, which  was  justly  regarded  as  the  basis  and  soul 
of  all  republics.  Themistocles,  by  this  plain  and  open 
declaration  of  his  opinion,  drew  upon  himself  the  ha- 
tred of  the  Lacedaemonians,  who  from  that  time  be- 
came his  professed  enemies.  He  had  also  incurred  the 
displeasure  of  the  rest  of  the  allies,  by  the  rigorous 
and  rapacious  manner  in  which  he  had  exacted  con- 
tributions from  them. 

When  the  city  of  Athens  was  entirely  rebuilt,*  the 
people,  finding  themselves  in  a  state  "of  peace  and 
tranquillity,  endeavoured  by  every  method  to  get  the 
government  into  their  own  hands,  and  to  make  the 
Athenian  state  an  absolute  democracy.  This  design 
of  theirs,  though  planned  with  the  utmost  secrecy. 
did  not  escape  the  vigilance  and  penetration  of  Ari«- 
tides,  who  saw  all  the  consequences  with  which  such 
an  innovation  would  he  attended.  But,  as  he  consi- 
dered on  one  hand,  that  the  people  were  entitled  to 
some  regard,  on  account  of  the  valntir  they  had  shown 
in  all  the  battles  which  had  been  lately  gained;  and, 
on  ihe  other,  that  it  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  cnrb 
and  restrain  a  people,  who  still  in  a  manner  had  their 
arms  in  their  hands,  and  who  were  grown  more  inso- 
lent than  ever,  from  their  victories;  on  these  conside- 
rations, he  thought  it  proper  to  observe  measures  with 
them,  and  to  find  out  some  medium  to  satisfy  and  ap- 
pease them.  HP  therefore  passed  a  decree,  by  which 
it  w:is  01  daiiied,  that  the  offices  of  government  should 
be  opfn  to  all  the  citizens,  and  that  the  archons.  who 
were  the  chief  magistrates  of  the  commonwealth,  and 
who  used  to  be  chosen  only  out  of  the  richest  of  its 
member ..  ri'z.  from  amongst  those  only  who  received 
at  le»st  5(MI  medinmi  of  grain  as  the  p'roduce  of  their 
lands,  should  for  the  future  he  elected  indifferently 
from  the  general  body  of  the  Athenians,  without  dis- 
tinction. EJy  thus  giving;  ui>  something  to  the  people, 
he  prevented  all  dissensions  and  commotions,  which 
might  have  proved  fatal,  not  onlj  to  the  Athenian 
state,  but  to  all  Greece. 


Plut.  in  Arist.  p.  332. 


Plot,  in  Themirt.  p.  122. 


SECTION  XIV. — THE  LACEDXMOIVIANS  LOSE  THt 
CHIEF  COMMAND,  THROUGH  THE  PRIDE  A>L>  AR- 
ROGANCE OF  PAUSAMAS. 

THE   Grecians,3  encouraged   by 
the  happy  success  which  had  every  A.  M.  3529. 

where  attended  their  victorious  Ant.  J.  C.  476 
arms,  determined  to  send  a  fleet  to 
sea,  in  order  to  deliver  such  of  their  allies,  as  tvere 
still  under  the  yoke  of  the  Persians,  out  of  their 
hands.  Pausanias  was  the  commander  of  the  fleet 
for  the  Lacedaemonians;  and  Aristides,  and  Cimon, 
the  son  of  Miltiades,  commanded  for  the  Athenians. 
They  first  directed  their  course  to  the  isle  of  Cyprus, 
where  they  restored  all  the  cities  to  their  liberty; 
then,  steering  towards  the  Hellespont,  they  attacked 
the  city  of  Byzantium,  of  which  they  made  themse.vet 
masters,  and  took  a  vast  number  of  prisoners,  a  great 
part  of  whom  were  of  the  richest  and  most  consider- 
able families  of  Persia. 

Pausanias,  who  from  this  time  conceived  thought! 
of  betraying  his  country,  judged  it  proper  to  make 
use  of  this  opportunity  to  gain  the  favour  of  Xerxea. 
To  this  end  he  caused  a  report  to  be  spread  among 
his  troops,  that  the  Persian  noblemen,  whom  he  had 
committed  to  the  guard  and  care  of  one  of  his  offi- 
cers, had  made  their  escape  by  night,  and  were  fled, 
whereas  he  had  set  them  at  liberty  himsilf.  and  sent  a 
letter  by  them  to  Xerxes,  wherein  he  offered  to  deli- 
ver the'city  of  Sparta,  and  all  Greece,  into  his  hands, 
on  condition  he  would  give  him  his  daughter  in  mar- 
riage. The  king  did  not  fail  to  give  him  a  favourable 
answer,  and  to  send  him  Yerv  large  sums  of  money 
also,  in  order  to  win  over  as  many  of  the  Grecians  al 
he  should  find  disposed  to  enter  into  his  designs. 
The  person  he  appointed  to  manage  this  intrigue  witt 
him  was  Artabazns;  and  in  order  to  enable  him  to 
transact  the  matter  with  the  greater  ease  and  securi- 
ty, he  made  him  governor  of  all  the  sea-coasts  of  Asia 
Minor. 

Pausanias,«  who  was  already  dazzled  with  the  pros- 
pect of  his  future  greatness,  began  from  this  moment 
to  change  his  whole  conduct  and  behaviour.  The 
poor,  modest,  and  frugal  way  of  living  at  Sparta:  the 
subjection  to  rigid  and  austere  laws,  which  mither 
spared  nor  respected  any  man,  but  were  altogether  as 
inexorable  and  inflexible  to  the  greatest  as  to  those  of 
the  meanest  condition;  all  this  became  insupporta- 
ble to  Pausanias.  He  could  not  bear  the  thoughts  of 
going  hack  to  Sparta,  after  having  possessed  such 
higb  commands  and  employments,  to  return  to  a  state 
of  equality,  that  would  confound  him  with  the  mean- 
est of  the  citizens;  and  this  was  his  inducement  to 
enter  into  a  treaty  with  the  barbarians.  He  entirely 
laid  aside  the  manners  and  behaviour  of  his  country; 
assumed  both  the  dress  and  haughtiness  of  the  Per- 
sians, anrl  imitated  them  in  all  their  expensive  luxury 
and  magnificence.  He  treated  the  allies  with  insuf- 
ferable rudeness  and  insolence;  never  spoke  to  the 
officers  hut  with  menaces  and  arrogance;  required 
extraordinary  honours  to  be  paid  to  him.  and  by  his 
whole  behaviour  rendered  the  Spartan  dominion  odi- 
ous to  all  the  confederates.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
courteous,  affable,  and  engaging  deportment  of  Aris- 
tides and  Cimon;  an  infinite  remoteness  from  all  im- 
perious and  haughty  airs,  which  tend  only  to  alienate 
the  affections:  a  gentle,  kind,  an/I  beneficent  disposi- 
tion, which  showed  itself  in  all  their  actions,  and 
which  served  to  temper  the  authority  of  their  com- 
mands, and  to  render  it  both  easy  and  amiable;  the 
justice  an'l  humanity,  conspicuous  in  every  thing  they 
did;  the  great  care  they  took  to  offend  no  person 
whatsoever,  and  to  do  kind  offices  to  all  about  them: 
all  this  hurt  Pmi«anias  exceedingly,  by  the  contrast  of 
their  opposite  characters,  and  increased  the  generaj 
discontent.  At  last  this  dissatisfaction  publicly  broke 
out:  and  all  the  allies  deserted  him,  and  put  them 
selves  un'ler  the  command  and  protection  of  the  Athe- 
nians. Thus  did  Aristides,  says  Plutarch,  hy  the 
prevalence  of  that  humanity  and  gentleness,  which 


»  Thuryd   I.  i.  p.  63.  M.  PR. 
•  Plut.  in  Ariit.  p.  332,  333. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


209 


»«  opposed  to  the  arrogance  and  roughness  of  Pau- 
sania-",  and  by  inspiring;  Cinion  liis  colleague  with  the 
same  sentiments,  insensibly  draw  of)  the  minds  of  the 
allies  froir.  the  Lacedaemonians  without  their  perceiv- 
ing it,  and  at  length  deprived  them  of  the  command; 
not  bv  open  force,  or  by  sending  out  armies  and  fleets 
against  them,  and  still  Irs-  by  making  use  of  any  ar- 
tifice or  perfidious  practices;  but  by  the  wisdom  and 
moderation  of  his  conduct,  and  by  rendering  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  Athenians  amiable. 

It  must  be  confessed  at  the  same  time,  that  the 
Spartan  people  on  this  occasion  showed  a  greatness 
of  soul,  and  a  spirit  of  moderation,  that  can  never  be 
sufficiently  admired:  for  when  they  were  convinced, 
that  their  commanders  grew  haughty  and  insolent  from 
their  too  great  authority,  they  willingly  renounced  the 
superiority  which  they  had  hitherto  exercised  over  the 
rest  of  the  Grecians,  and  forbore  sending  any  more 
of  their  generals  to  command  the  Grecian  armies, 
choosing  rather,  adds  the  historian,  to  have  their  citi- 
lens  wise,  modest,  and  submissive  to  the  discipline 
and  laws  of  the  commonwealth,  than  to  maintain  their 
pre-eminence  and  superiority  over  all  the  other  Gre- 
cian states. 

SECTION  XV.— PAUSANIAS'S  SECRET  CONSPIRACY 

WITH  THE  PERSIANS.      HIS  DEATH. 

UPON  the  repeated  complaints 
A.  M.  3529.  which  the  Spartan  commonwealth 
Ant.  J.  C.  475.  received  on  all  hands  against  Pan- 
manias,1  they  recalled  him  home  to 
give  an  account  of  his  conduct.  But  not  having  suffi- 
cient evidence  to  convict  him  of  having  carried  on  a 
correspondence  with  Xerxes,  they  were  obliged  to 
acquit  him  on  his  first  trial;  after  which  he  returned 
of  his  own  private  authority,  and  without  the  consent 
and  approbation  of  the  republic,  to  the  city  of  Byzan- 
tium, froiu  whence,  he  continued  to  carry  on  his  se- 
cret practices  with  Artahazus.  But,  as  he  was  still 
fuilty  of  many  violent  and  unjust  proceedings  whilst 
e  resided  there,  the  Athenian?  obliged  him  to  leave 
the  place;  from  whence  he  retired  toColonas,  a  small 
city  of  the  Troad.  There  he  received  an  order  from 
the  Ephori  to  return  to  Sparta,  on  pain  of  being  de- 
clared, in  case  of  disobedience,  a  public  enemy  and 
traitor  to  his  country.  He  complied  with  the  sum- 
mons, and  went  home,  hoping  he  should  still  he  able 
to  bring  himself  ofi  by  dint  of  money.  On  his  arrival 
he  was  committed  to  prison,  and  was  soon  afterwards 
brought  again  upon  his  trial  before  the  judges.  The 
charge  brought  against  him  was  supported  by  many 
suspicious  circumstances  and  strong  presumptions. 
Several  of  his  own  slaves  confessed  that  he  had  pro- 
mised to  give  them  their  liberty,  in  case  they  would 
enter  into  his  designs,  and  serve  him  with  fidelity  and 
teal  in  the  execution  of  his  projects.  B>>*  as  it  was 
the  cu<tom  of  the  F.phori  never  to  r  >ounce  sen- 
tence of  death  against  a  Spartan,  wifnout  a  full  and 
direct  proof  of  the  crime  laid  to  his  charge,  they 
looked  upon  the  evidence  against  him  as  insufficient: 
and  the  more  so,  as  he  was  of  the  roval  familv,  and 
was  actually  invested  with  the  administration  of  the 
regal  office:  for  Pausanias  exercised  the  function  of 
king:,  as  being  the.  guardian  and  nearest  relation  to 
Plifitarc.hu*,  the  son  of  Leonidas,  who  was  then  in  his 
minority.  He  was  therefore  acquitted  a  second  time, 
•lid  set  at  liberty. 

Whilst  the  Rphori  were,  thug  perplexed  for  want  of 
clear  and  plain  evidence  against  the  offender,  a  cer- 
tain sluve,  who  was  called  the  Argilian,  came  to  them, 
and  brought  them  a  letter,  written  by  Pausanias  him- 
self to  the  king  of  Persia,  which  the  slave  was  to  have 
carried  to  Artabazus.  It  must  **  oserved,  by  the 
way,  that  this  Persian  gover"  and  Pausania*  had 
•gr>-ed  together,  immediately  to  put  to  death  all  the 
couriers  they  mutually  sent  to  one  another,  as  soon  as 
their  packets  or  messages  were  delivered,  that  there 
might  he  no  possibility  left  of  tracing  out  or  discov- 
ering their  correspondence.  The  Argilian,  whu  saw 
none  of  his  fellow-servants,  that  had  been  sent,  return 

•  Thiryrl.  I.  i.  p.  86-89.     Diod.  1.  xi.   p.  34— «.    Cor. 

Keji.  in  I'ausan 


back  again,  had  some  suspicion;  and  when  it  carne  to 
his  turn  to  go,  he  opened  the  letter  he  was  entrusted 
with,  in  which  Arlabazus  was  positively  desired  to 
kill  him  as  soon  as  he  delivered  it.  This  was  the 
letter  the  slave  put  into  the  hands  of  the  Ephori; 
who  still  thought  even  iiii*  proof  insufficient  in  the 
eye  of  the  law,  and  therefore  endeavoured  to  corro- 
borate it  by  the  tc«ti:'iony  of  Pausanias  himself.  The 
slave,  in  conceit  wi'.h  ti-.un,  withdrew  to  the  temple 
of  Neptune  at  TaMiaru?,  as  to  a  secure  asy  linn.  Two 
small  closets  had  been  i.urposely  made  there,  in  whirh 
the  Ephori  and  some  Spartans  hid  themselves.  The 
instant  Pausanias  was  informed  that  the  Argilino  l':nl 
(led  to  this  temple,  he  hasted  thitherto  inquire  the 
reason.  The  slave  confessed  that  he  had  opened  the 
letter;  and  that  finding  by  the  contents  of  it  he  was 
to  be  put  to  death,  he  had  lied  to  that  temple  to  save 
his  life.  As  Pausanias  could  not  deny  the  fact,  he 
made  the  best  excuse  he  could:  promised  the  slave  a 
great  reward,  and  obliged  him  to  engage  not  to  men- 
tion what  had  passed  between  them  to  any  pe;son 
whatsoever. 

Pausania&'s  guilt  was  now  but  too  evident.  The 
moment  he  was  returned  to  the  city,  the  Kphori  wer* 
resolved  to  seize  him.  From  the  aspect  of  one  of  those 
magistrates,  and  from  a  signal  which  he  made  him, 
he  plainly  perceived  that  some  evil  design  was  medi- 
tated against  him,  and  therefore  he  ran  with  the  -u- 
most  speed  to  the  temple  of  Pallas,  called  Chjlci^cos, 
near  that  place,  and  got  into  it  before  the  pursuers 
could  overtake  him.  The  entrance  was  immeJiately 
stopped  up  with  great  stones;  and  history  informs  us, 
that  the  criminal's  mother  was  the  first  who  brought 
one.  They  also  took  otf  the  roof  of  the  chapel,  and, 
as  the  Ephori  did  not  dare  to  take  him  out  of  it  by 
force,  because  this  would  have  been  a  violation  of  that 
sacred  asylum,  they  resolved  to  leave  him  exposed  to 
the  inclemencies  of  the  weather,  and  accordingly  he 
was  starved  to  death.  However,  a  ftyv  minutes  before 
he  died,  they  drew  him  out  of  the  temple.  His  corpse 
was  buried  not  far  from  that  place:  but  the  oracle  of 
Delphi,  which  they  consulted  soon  after,  declared, 
that  to  appease  the  anger  of  the  goddess,  who  yvas 
justly  offended  on  account  of  the  violation  of  her  tem- 
ple, two  statues  must  be  set  up  there  in  honour  of 
Pausanias,  which  was  done  accordingly. 

Such  yvas  the  end  of  Pausanias,  whose  wild  ambi- 
tion had  stifled  in  him  all  sentiments  of  probity,  hon- 
our, love  of  his  country,  zeal  for  liberty,  and  of  hatred 
and  aversion  for  the  barbarians;  sentiments  which-  .11 
some  measure,  were  innate  in  all  the  Greeks,  an'i  par- 
ticularly in  the  Lacedaemonians. 

SECTION  XVI. — THEMISTOCI.ES,  BEING  PROSECU- 
TED BY  THE  ATHENIANS  AND  LACEDEMONIANS, 
AS  AN  ACCOMPLICE  IN  PAUSAMAS'S  CONSPIRACT, 
Fl.IES  FOR  SHELTER  TO  KING  ADMETUS. 

THF.MISTOCLES  was  also  impli- 
cated in  the  charge  brought  against  A.  M.  3531. 
Pausanias.2  He  yvas  then  in  exile.  Ant.  J.  C.  473. 
A  passionate  thirst  of  glory,  and  a 
stronsr  desire  of  arbitrary  power,  had  made  him  odj- 
ou?  to  hi«  fellow-citizens.  He  had  built,  very  near  hii 
house,  a  temple  dedicated  to  Diana,  under  the  title  of 
Diana  Jlristobula,  that  is  to  say,  the  girfr  nfgood 
counsel:  as  hinting  to  the  Athenians,  that  he  had 
given  good  counsel  to  their  city,  and  to  all  Greece; 
and  he  also  had  placed  his  statue  in  it,  which  was 
standing  in  Plutarch's  time.  It  appeared,  says  he, 
from  this  statue,  that  his  physiognomy  was  a*  heroic 
as  his  valour.  Finding  that  men  listened  yvith  pies- 
mire  to  all  the  calumnies  which  his  enemies  spread 
n<rain't  him,  in  order  to  silence  them,  he  was  forever 
expatiating,  in  all  public  assemblies,  on  the  services 
he  had  done  his  country.  As  they  were  at  last  tirtd 
with  hearing  him  repeat  the  same  thing  so  often. 
"  How!"  says  he  to  them,  "  are  you  weary  of  having 
good  offices  frequently  done  you  by  the  same  per- 
sons?" He  did  not  consider,  'that  putting  them  so 


»  Thucyd.  I.  i    p.  H>,  00.     Plut.  in  Themiit. 
Corn.  Nep.  in  Themist.  c.  viii 


P.  121,  m 


270 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


often  in  mind  of  hi«  services,'  was  in  a  manner  re- 
proach'ng  them  with  their  having  forgotten  them, 
which  was  not  very  civil ;  and  he  seemed  not  to 
know,  lhal  the  surest  way  to  acquire  applause,  is  to 
leave  the  bestowing  of  it  to  otters,  and  to  resolve  to 
do  such  things  only  as  are  praiseworthy;  and  that  a 
frequent  mention  of  one's  own  virtue  and  exalted 
actions,  is  so  far  from  appeasing  envy,  that  it  only  in- 
flames it. 

Themistocles,1  after  having  been  banished  from 
Athens,  by  the  ostracism,  withdrew  to  Argos.  He 
was  there  when  Pausanias  was  prosecuted  as  a  traitor 
who  had  conspired  against  his  country.  He  had  at 
first  concealed  his  machinations  from  Themistocles, 
though  he  was  one  of  his  best  friends;  but  as  soon  as 
be  saw  that  he  was  expelled  his  country,  and  highly 
esented  that  injury,  he  disclosed  his  projects  to  him, 
and  pressed  him  to  join  in  them.  To  induce  him  to 
comply,  he  showed  him  the  letters  which  the  king  of 
Persia  wrote  to  him;  and  endeavoured  to  animate 
him  against  the  Athenians,  by  painting  their  injustice 
and  ingratitude  in  the  strongest  colours.  However, 
Themistocles  rejected  with  indignation  the  proposals 
of  Pausnnias,  and  refused  peremptorily  to  take  any 
part  in  his  schemes:  but  then  he  concealed  what  had 
passed  between  them,  and  did  not  discover  the  enter- 
pri<e  lie  had  formed;  whether  it  was  that  he  imagined 
I'aiisnnias  would  renounce  it  of  himself,  or  was  per- 
suaded that  it  would  be  discovered  some  other  way; 
it  not  being  possible  for  so  dangerous  and  ill-concert- 
ed an  enterprise  to  be  successful. 

After  Pausnnias's  death,  several  letters  and  other 
things  were  found  among  his  papers,  which  excited 
violent  suspicions  of  Themistocles.  The  Lacedaemo- 
nians sent  deputies  to  Athens  to  accuse  and  have 
sentence  of  death  passer)  upon  him;  and  such  of  the 
ci'.iiens  who  envied  him  joined  these  accusers.  Aris- 
tides  had  now  a  fair  opportunity  of  revenging  himself 
on  his  rival,  for  the  injurious  treatment  he  had  re- 
ceived from  him,  had  his  soul  been  capable  of  so 
cruel  a  s-.itisfaction;  but  he  refused  absolutely  to  join 
in  so  horrid  a  combination;  being  as  little  inclined  to 
delight  in  the  misfortunes  of  his  adversary,  as  he  *"»d 
before  been  to  regret  his  successes.  Themistoc\e^ 
answered  by  letters  all  the  calumnies  with  which  he 
was  charged;  and  represented  to  the  Athenians,  that 
as  he  ha'l  ever  been  fond  of  ruling,  and  his  temper 
was  such  as  would  not  suffer  him  to  be  lorded  over  by 
others,  it  was  highly  improbable  that  he  should  have 
a  design  to  deliver  himself  up,  and  all  Greece,  to  ene- 
mies and  barbarians. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  people,  wrought  upon  by  his 
arcu«ers,  sent  some  persons  to  seize  him  and  bring 
him  home,  that  he  might  be  tried  by  the  council  of 
Gieece.  Themistocles,  having  timely  notice  of  it, 
went  into  the  island  of  Corey ra,  to  whose  inhabitants 
he  formerly  hnd  done  some  service:  however,  not 
thinking  himself  safe  there,  he  (led  to  Epirus;  and 
finding  himself  still  pursued  by  the  Athenians  and 
Lacedaemonians,  in  despair  he  adopted  a  very  dan- 
gerous plan,  which  wa->,  to  fly  to  Admetus,  king  of 
the  Mrilossians,  for  refugre.  This  prince  having  for- 
nierlv  desired  the  aid  of  the  Athenians,  and  being  re- 
fused with  ignominy  by  Themistocles.  who  at  that 
time  presided  in  the  government,  had  retained  the 
deepest  resentment  on  that  account,  and  declared 
that  he  would  revenge  himself,  should  a  favourable 
opportunity  ever  occur.  But  Themistocles,  imasrin- 
l.igr  that  in  the  unhappy  situation  of  his  affairs,  the 
recent  envy  of  his  fellow-citizens  was  more  to  be  fear- 
ed than  the  ancient  grudge  of  that  k\i\x,  was  resolved 
to  run  the  hazard  of  it.  When  he  came  into  the 
palace  of  (hat  monarch,  upon  being  informed  that  he 
was  absent,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  queen,  who 
received  him  very  graciously,  and  instructed  him  in 
the  manner  in  which  it  was  proper  for  him  to  make 
ins  request.  Admettis,  being  returned,  ThemistocJes 
lakes  the  kind's  son  in  his  arms,  seats  himself  on  his 
hearth  amidst  his  household  gods,  and  there,  telling 


1   Hor.  mnlestnm  cut.     Nam   isthefi  cnmmemoratio  quail 
txrrnhatio  oil   immemorii  heneficii.     Ttrtnt.  in  Anir. 
•  Plut.  in  Tliemiit.  p.  112 


of  a  great  king  than  to  exercise  clemency.  Aclmelus, 
surprised  and  moved  with  compassion  in  seeing  at  hit 
feet,  in  so  humble  a  posture,  the  greatest  man  of  all 
Greece,  and  the  conqueror  of  all  Asia,  raised  him  im- 
mediately from  the  ground,  and  promised  to  protect 
him  against  all  his  enemies.  Accordingly,  when  the 
Athenians  and  Lacedaemonians  came  to  demand  him, 
he  refused  absolutely  to  deliver  up  a  person  who  had 
taken  refuge  in  his  palace,  in  the  firm  persuasion  that 
it  would  be  a  sacred  and  inviolable  asylum. 

Whilst  he  was  at  the  court  of  this  prince,  one  o 
his  friends  found  an  opportunity  to  carry  ort  his  wife 
and  children  from  Athens,  and  to  send  them  to  li'in; 
for  which  that  person  was  some  time  after  s«  ized  and 
condemned  to  die.  With  regard  to  Themistorles's 
efiects,  his  friends  secured  the  greatest  part  of  them 
for  him,  which  they  afterwards  found  an  opportunity 
to  remit  to  him  in  his  retirement;  but  all  that  could 
be  discovered,  which  amounted  to  100  talents.3  was 
carried  to  the  public  treasury.  When  he  entered  upon 
the  administration  of  the  republic,  he  was  not  worth 
three  talents.  I  shall  leave  this  illustrious  exile  for 
some  time  in  the  court  of  king  Admetus,  to  resume 
ihe  sequel  of  this  history. 

SECTION     XVII. ARISTIDES'S      DISINTERESTED 

AD.M1.MSTRAT10N     OF    THE     PUBLIC     TREASURE. 
HIS   DEATH   AND  EULOGIUM. 

I  HAVE  before  observed,  that  the  command  of 
Greece  had  passed  from  Sparta  to  the  Athenians.* 
Hitherto  the  cities  and  nations  of  Greece  hari  indeed 
contributed  some  sums  of  money  towards  carrying  on 
the  expense  of  the  war  against  the  barbarians;  but 
this  assessment  had  always  occasioned  great  feuds, 
because  it  was  not  made  in  a  just  or  equal  proportion. 
It  was  thought  proper,  under  this  new  government, 
to  lodge  in  Che  island  of  Delos  the  common  treasure 
of  Greece;  to  enact  new  regulations  with  regard  to 
the  public  money*:  and  to  lay  such  a  tax  as  might  be 
regulated  according  to  the  revenue  of  each  city  and 
state;  in  order  that  the  expenses  being  eqtiallv  borne 
by  the  several  members  who  composed  the  body  of 
the  allies,  no  one  might  have  reason  to  murmur.  The 
great  point  was,  to  find  a  person  capable  of  discharg- 
ing faithfully  an  employment  of  such  delicacy,  and 
attended  with  such  clanger  and  difficulty,  the  due  ad- 
ministration of  which  so  nearly  concerned  the  public 
welfare.  All  the  allies  cast  their  eyes  on  Aristides; 
accordingly  they  invested  him  with  full  powers,  and 
appointed  him  to  levy  a  tax  on  each  of  them,  relying 
entirely  on  hi»  wisdom  and  justice. 

They  had  i.o  cause  to  repent  of  their  choice.  He 
presided  over  the  treasury  with  the  fidelity  and  disin- 
terestedness of  a  man,5  who  looks  upon  it  as  i  capital 
crime  to  embezzle  the  smallest  portion  of  another's 
property;  with  the  care  and  activity  of  a  father  of  a 
family,  who  manages  his  own  esttite;  and  with  the 
caution  and  integrity  of  a  person,  who  considers  th» 
public  money  as  sacred.  In  fine,  he  succeeded  in 
what  is  equally  difficult  and  extraordinary,  vii.  in 
acquiring  the  love  of  all,  in  an  office  in  which  he  that 
escapes  the  public  odium  gains  a  great  point.  Such 
is  the  glorious  character  which  Seneca  gives  of  a  per- 
son charged  with  an  employment  of  almost  the  same 
kind,  and  the  noblest  eulogium  that  can  be  given  of 
such  as  administer  the  public  revenues.  It  i*  the  ex 
act  picture  of  Aristides.  He  discovered  so  much 
probity  and  wisdom  in  the  exercise  of  this  office,  that 
no  man  complained;  and  those  times  were  considered 
ever  after  as  the  golden  age,  that  is,  the  period  In 
which  Greece  had  attained  its  highest  pilch  of  virtue 


*  A  hundred  thousand  crowns  French,  about  22,5001,  iter 
ling. 

*  Plut.  in  Arist.  p  333,  334.     Diod.  1.  *i.  p.  36. 

*  Tu   quidem   orl>i»  terr.M-um  rationes  administrai ;  tan 
•tmtirienter  quam  nlicnai,   tarn   dilrgenter   quam   tuns,  tare 
religio«£  quam  publii-an.     In  oftV.io  amorem  consequent,  ic 
quo  odium  vitare  difficile  e*t    Stnec,  lib  dt  Brerit   VH  c*r, 
zviii 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


271 


and  happiness.  And,  indeed,  the  tax  which  he  had 
fixed,  in  the  whole,  at  460  talents,1  was  raised  by 
Pericles  to  600,  and  soon  alter  to  1300  talents:  not 
that  the  expenses  of  the  war  were  increased,  but  be- 
cause the  treasure  was  employed  to  very  useless  pur- 
poses, in  manual  distributions  to  the  Athenians,  in 
solemnizing  of  games  and  festivals,  in  building  of 
temples  and  public  edifices;  not  to  mention,  that  the 
hands  of  those  who  superintended  the  treasury  were 
not  always  so  clean  and  uncorrupt  as  those  of  Aris- 
tides. This  wise  and  equitable  conduct  secured  him 
to  the  latest  posterity,  the  glorious  surname  of  the 

JUft. 

Nevertheless,  Plutarch  relates  an  action  of  Aris- 
tides, which  shows  that  the  Greeks  (and  the  same  may 
De  said  of  the  Romans)  had  a  very  narrow  and  im- 
perfect idea  of  justice.  They  confined  the  exercise 
of  it  to  the  interior,  as  it  were,  of  civil  society;  and 


thing,)  they  thought  in  a  quite  different  manner,  and 
imagined  themselves  obliged  to  sacrifice  to  it,  through 
principle,  not  only  their  lives  and  possessions,  but 
even  tiieir  religion  and  the  most  sacred  engagements, 
in  contempt  of  the  most  solemn  csihs.  This  will  ap- 
pear evidently  in  what  I  am  now  going  to  relate. 

After  the  assessment  of  the  contributions,  of  which 
I  have  just  spoken,2  Aristides,  having  settled  tin*  sev- 
eral articles  of  the  alliance,  made  the  confederates 
take  an  oath  to  observe  them  punctually,  and  he  him- 
self swore  in  the  name  of  the  Athenians;  and  when 
denouncing  the  curses  which  always  accompanied 


curses  on  him,  and  exonerate  themselves  thereby  of 
the  punishment  due  to  such  as  had  forsworn  them- 
selves, and  who  had  been  reduced  to  it  by  the  un- 
happv  situation  of  their  affairs.  Theophrastus  tells 
us,  that  in  general  (these  words  are  borrowed  from 
Plutarch)  Aristides,  who,  in  all  matters  relating  to 
himself  or  the  public,  prided  himself  upon  displaying 
the  mo?t  impartial  and  rigorous  justice,  used  to  act, 
during  his  administration,  in  several  instances,  ac- 
cording as  the  exigency  of  affairs  and  the  welfare  of 
his  country  might  require;  it  being  his  opinion,  that 
a  government,  in  order  to  support  itself,  is,  on  some 
occasions,  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  injustice,  of 
which  he  gives  the  following  example.  One  day,  as 
the  Athenians  were  debating  in  their  council,  about 
bringing  to  their  city,  in  opposition  to  the  articles  of 
the  treaty,  the  common  treasures  of  Greece  which 
were  deposited  in  Deles:  the  Samians  having  opened 
the  debate:  when  it  was  Aristides's  turn  to  speak,  he 
said,  that  the  removal  of  the  treasure  was  an  unjust 
action,  but  useful,  nnd  made  this  opinion  take  place. 
This  incident  shows,  with  how  great  obscurity  and 
error  the  pretended  wisdom  of  the  heathens  was  over- 
spread. 

It  was  scarce  possible  to  have  a  greater  contempt 
for  riches  than  Aristides  had  Themislocles,  who  was 
not  pleased  with  the  encomiums  bestowed  on  other 
men,  hearing  Aristides  applauded  for  the  noble  disin- 
terestedness with  which  he  managed  the  public  trea- 
sures, did  but  laugh  at  it:  and  said,  that  the  praises 
bestowed  upon  him,  showed  that  he  possessed  no 
greater  merit  than  that  of  a  strong  box,  which  faith- 


o  revenge  or  a  stae  o  raery  a  a  sun  m 
to  the  quick.  Themistocles  one  day  saying,  that,  in 
his  opinion,  the  greatest  quali6cetion  a  general  could 
possess,  was  to  be  able  to  foresee  the  designs  of  an 
enemy:  "This  qualification,"  replied  Aristides,  "is 


<   A  talent  w  worth  a  thousand  Frencn  crowns;  or  ibout 
K51.  sterling. 
•  Plut.  in  Arist.  p.  333, 334. 


necessary;  but  there  IB  another  no  less  noble  and 
worthy  of  a  general, — that  is,  to  have  cltan  hands, 
and  a  soul  superior  to  venality  and  views  of  interest.'1 
Aristides  might  very  justly  answer  Themistocles  in 
this  maniur,  since  he  was  really  very  poor,  though 
lie  had  possessed  the  highest  employments  in  the 
stiile.  He  seemed  to  have  an  innate  love  for  pover- 
ty; and  so  far  from  being  ashamed  of  it,  he  thought 
it  reflected  as  much  glory  on  him,  as  all  the  trophies 
nnd  victories  he  had  won.  History  gives  us  a  Ma- 
iug  instance  of  this. 

Callias,  who  was  a  near  relation  of  Aristides,  and 
the  most  wealthy  citizen  in  Athens,  was  cited  to  ap- 
pear before  the  judges.  The  accuser,  laying  very 
little  stress  on  the  cause  itself,  reproached  him  espe- 
cially with  permitting  Aristides,  and  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, to  live  in  poverty,  at  a  time  when  he  himself 
rolled  in  riches.  Callias,  perceiving  that  these  re- 
proaches made  a  strong  impression  on  the  judges, 
summoned  Aristides  to  declnre  before  them,  whether 
he  had  not  often  pressed  him  to  accept  of  large  sums 
of  money,  and  whether  he  had  not  obstinately  refused 
to  accept  of  his  offer,  giving  for  answer  that  he  had 
more  reason  to  boast  of  his  poverty  than  Callias  of 
his  riches;  that  many  persons  were  to  be  found  who 
made  a  good  use  of  their  wealth,  but  that  there  were 
few  who  bore  their  poverty  with  magnanimity  and 
even  with  joy;  and  that  none  had  cause  to  blush  at 
their  condition,  but  such  as  had  reduced  themselves 
to  it  by  their  idleness,  their  intemperance,  their  pro- 
fusion or  dissolute  conduct.  Aristides  declared  that 
his  kinsman  had  told  nothing  but  the  truth;3  and 
added,  that  a  man  whose  frame  of  mind  is  such,  as  to 
suppress  every  wish  for  superfluities,  and  who  con- 
fines (he  wants  of  life  within  the  narrowest  limits; 
besides  its  freeing  him  from  a  thousand  importunate 
cares,  and  leaving  him  so  much  master  of  his  time, 
as  to  devote  it  entirely  to  the  public;  it  approximates 
him,  in  some  measure  to  the  Deity,  who  is  whollj 
void  of  cares  or  wants.  There  was  no  man  in  the  as- 
sembly, but,  at  his  leaving  it,  would  have  chosen  to  be 
Aristides,  though  so  poor,  rather  than  Callias  with  all 
his  riches. 

Plutarch  gives  us,  in  a  few  words,  Plato's  glorious 
testimony  to  Aristides's  virtue,  for  which  he  looks 
upon  him  as  infinitely  superior  to  all  the  illustrious 
men  who  were  his  contemporaries.  Themistocles, 
Cimon,  and  Pericles,  (says  he,)  filled  indeed  their  city 
with  splendid  edifices,  "with  porticoes,  statues,  rich 
ornaments,  and  other  vain  superfluities  of  that  kind; 
but  Aristides  did  all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  enrich 
every  part  of  it  with  virtue:  now  to  raise  a  city  to 
true  happiness  it  must  be  made  virtuous,  not  rich. 

Plutarch  takes  notice  of  another  circumstance  in 
Aristides's  life,  which,  though  of  the  simplest  kind, 
reflects  the  greatest  honour  on  him,  and  may  serve  as 
an  excellent  lesson.  It  is  in  that  beautiful  treatise,*  in 
which  he  inquires,  whether  it  is  proper  for  old  men 
to  concern  themselves  with  affairs  of  government;  and 
where  he  points  out  admirably  well,  the  various  ser- 
vices they  may  do  the  stale,  even  in  an  advanced  age. 
We  are  not  to  fancy,  says  he,  that  in  order  to  render 
services  to  one's  fellow-citizens,  it  is  necessary  to 
make  great  exertions,  to  harangue  the  people,  to  pre- 
side in  the  government,  or  to  head  armies:  an  old 
man,  whose  mind  is  informed  with  wisdom,  may, 
without  going  from  his  house,  exercise  a  kind  of  ma- 
gistracy in  it,  which,  though  secret  and  obscure,  is  not 
therefore  the  less  important;  and  that  is,  in  training 
up  youth  by  good  counsel,  teaching  them  the.  various 
springs  of  policy,  and  the  path  they  ought  to  pursue 
in  the  management  of  public  affairs.  Aristides.  adds 
Plutarch,  was  not  always  in  office,  but  was  always 
of  service  to  his  country.  His  house  was  a  public 
school  of  virtue,  wisdom,  and  politics.  It  was  open  to 
all  young  Athenians  who  were  lovers  of  virtue,  and 
these  used  to  consult  him  as  an  oracle.  He  gave  them 
the  kindest  reception,  heard  them  with  patience, 
instructed  them  with  familiarity:  and  endeavoured 
above  all  things,  to  animate  their  courage,  and  in* 


»  Plut.  in  convnar.  Arist.  &  Caton.  p.  365. 
«  Pag.  795.  7U7. 


272 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


•pire  tnem  with  confidence  It  is  observed  particu- 
larlv,  that  Cinion,  afterwan  «  so  famo  is,  was  obliged 
to  him  for  this  important  sc  rvice. 

Plutarch  divided  the  life  of  statesmen  into  three 
ftges.'  In  the  first,  he  would  have  them  learn  the 
principles  of  government;  in  the  second  reduce  them 
to  practice;  and  in  the  third,  instruct  others. 

History  does  not  mention  the  exact  time  when,*  nor 
place  where,  Aristides  died;  but  then  it  pays  a  glo- 
rious testimony  to  his  memory,  when  it  assures  us, 
that  this  great  man,  who  had  possessed  the  highest 
employments  in  the  republic,  and  had  the  absolute 
disposal  of  its  treasures,  died  poor,  and  did  not  leave 
money  enough  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  funeral; 
to  that  the  government  was  obliged  to  bear  the  charge 
of  it,  and  to  maintain  his  family.  His  daughters  were 
married,  and  Lysinmchus  his  son  was  subsisted  at 
the  expense  of  the  Prytaneinn;  which  also  gave  the 
daughter  of  the  latter,  after  his  death,  the  pension 
with  which  those  were  honoured  who  had  been  victo- 
rious at  the  Olympic  games.  Plutarch  relates,  on  this 
occasion,  the  liberality  of  the  Athenians  in  favour  of 
the  posterity  of  Aristogiton  their  deliverer,  who  had 
fallen  to  decay;  and  he  adds,  that  even  in  his  time 
(almost  600  years  after)  the  same  goodness  and  libe- 
rality still  subsisted.  It  is  glorious  for  a  city  to  have 
preserved  for  so  many  centuries  its  generosity  and 
gratitude;  and  a  strong  motive  to  animate  individu- 
als, who  were  assured  that  their  children  woulil  enjoy 
the  rewards  which  death  prevents  themselves  from 
receiving.  It  was  delightful  to  see  the  remote  pos- 
terity of  the  defenders  and  deliverers  of  the  common- 
wealth, who  had  inherited  nothing  from  their  ances- 
tor but  the  glory  of  their  actions  maintained  for  so 
many  ages  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  services  which  their  families  had  rendered 
the  state.  They  lived  in  this  manner  with  much  more 
honour,  and  called  up  the  remembrance  of  their  an- 
cestors with  much  greater  splendour,  than  a  multitude 
of  citizens,  whose  fathers  had  been  anxious  only  to 
leave  them  great  estates,  which  generally  do  not 
long  survive  those  who  raised  them,  and  often  leave 
to  their  posterity  nothing  but  the  odious  remembrance 
of  the  injustice  and  oppression  by  which  they  were 
acquired. 

The  greatest  honour  which  the  ancients  have  done 
to  Aii-tides,  is  the.  having  bestowed  on  him  the  glo- 
rious title  of  the  Jiat.  He  gained  it,  not  by  one  par- 
ticular occurrence  of  his  life,  but  by  the  whole  tenor 
of  his  conduct  and  action.'.  Plutarch  makes  a  reflec- 
tion on  this  occasion,  which,  being  very  remarkable, 
I  think  it  incumbent  on  me  not  to  omit. 

Among  the  several  virtues  of  Aristides,  says  this 
judicious  author,3  th A  for  which  he  was  most  re- 
nowned was  his  justice;  because  this  virtue  is  of  most 
general  use;  its  benefits  extend  to  a  greater  number 
of  persons;  and  it  is  the  foundation,  and  in  a  man- 
ner the  soul,  of  every  public  office  and  employment. 
Hence  it  was  that  Aristides,  though  in  low  circum- 
stances, and  of  mean  extraction,  merited  the  title  of 
Just;  a  title,  says  Plutarch,  truly  royal,  or  rather  tru- 
ly divine;  but  one  of  which  princes  are  seldom  ambi- 
tions, because  they  are  ignorant  of  its  beauty  and  ex- 
cellency. They  choose  rather  to  be  called  the  takers 
of  cities,*  the  thunderbolts  of  war,  victors  and  con- 
querors, and  sometimes  even  eagles  and  lions;  pre- 
firring  the  vain  honour  of  pompous  titles,  which  con- 
vey no  other  idea  than  violence  and  slaughter,  to  the 
solid  glory  of  those  expressive  of  goodness  and  vir- 
tue. They  do  not  know,  continues  Platarch,  that  of 
the  three  chief  attributes  of  the  Deity,  of  wnom  Kings 
boast  themselves  the  image,  I  mean,  immortality, 
power,  and  justice;  that  of  these  three  attributes,  the 
first  of  which  excites  our  admiration  and  desire,  the 
second  fills  us  witt  dread  and  terror,  and  the  third  in- 


i  \\n.  n|r, *ip»  on  this  occasion  the  cuitom  u»ed  in  Romn, 
wlii-rf  tlir-  Vi'«ial«  «|K;nt  tin;  firtt  tt;n  yearn  in  learning  th«ir 
offi'*i.  and  tliin  was  a  kind  of  noviciate;  the  noxt  ten  yearn 
th«>v  employed  in  thi!  px«rci«e  of  their  functional  and  the 
Rut  ten  in  imHrncting  the  young  novice*  in  them. 

•  Pint   in  Ari.it.  p.  334,  VS.  •  Ib.  p.  331,  322. 

•  Piiliorccle*.  Ceraunus,  Nicator. 


spires  us  with  love  and  respect;  this  last  is  the  onl» 
one  truly  and  personally  communicated  to  man,  anfl 
the  only  one  that  can  conduct  him  to  the  other  two 
it  being  impossible  for  man  to  beccftue  truly  immorta. 
and  powerful,  but  by  being  just. 

Before    1   resume    the   sequel  of 
thit  history,  it  may  not  be  improper  A.  M.  3532 

to  observe,  that  it  was  about  this  A.  Rom.  302. 
period  that  the  fame  of  the  Greeks, 
who  were  still  more,  renowned  for  the  wisdom  of  theii 
polity  than  the  glory  of  their  victories,  induced  the 
Romans  to  have  recourse  to  their  lights  and  know 
ledge.  Rome,  formed  under  kings,  was  in  want  of 
such  laws  as  were  necessary  for  the  good  governmen 
of  a  commonwealth.  For  this  purpose  the  Romans 
sent  deputies  to  copy  the  laws  of  the  cities  of  Greece,* 
and  particularly  those  of  Athens,  which  were  Mill  bet- 
ter adapted  to  the  popular  government  that  had  been 
established  after  the  expulsion  ot  the  kings.  On  this 
model,  the  ten  magistrates,  called  Decemviri,  who 
were  invested  with  absolute  authority,  digested  the 
laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  which  are  the  basis  of 
the  Roman  law. 

SECTION     XVIII.— DEATH    OF    XERXES,   WHO   IS 
KILLED   BY   ARTABAMJS.      HFS   CHARACTER. 

THE  ill  success  of  Xerxes  in  his 
expedition  against  the  Greeks,  and  A.  M.  3531 

which  continued  afterwards,  at  Ant.  J.  C.  473, 
length  discouraged  him.6  Renoun- 
cing all  thoughts  of  war  and  conquest,  he  abandoned 
himself  entirely  to  luxury  and  ease,  and  was  studious 
of  nothing  but  his  ple-asures.  Artabanus,"  a  native 
of  Hyrcania,  captain  of  his  guards,  who  had  long 
been  one  of  his  chief  favourites,  found  that  his  disso- 
lute conduct  had  drawn  upon  him  the  contempt  of 
his  subjects.  He  therefore  imagined  that  this  would 
be  a  favourable  opportunity  to  conspire  against  his 
sovereign,  and  he  carried  his  ambitious  views  so  far 
as  to  flatter  himself  with  the  hopes  of  succeeding  him 
in  the  throne.*  It  is  very  likely  that  he  was  excite* 
to  the  commission  of  this  crime  from  another  motive. 
Xerxes  had  commanded  him  to  murder  Darius,  his 
eldest  son,  but  for  what  cause  history  is  sili-nt.  As 
this  order  had  been  given  at  a  banquet,  and  when  the 
company  was  heated  with  wine,  he  did  not  doubt  but 
that  Xerxes  would  forget  it,  and  therefore  was  nnt  in 
haste  to  obey  it;  however  he  was  mistaken,  for  th« 
king  complained  of  his  disobedience,  which  made  Ar- 
tabanus dread  his  resentment,  and  therefore  he  re- 
solved to  prevent  him.  Accordingly  he  prevailed  upon 
Mithridates.  one  of  the  eunuchs  of  the  palace,  and 
high  chamberlain,  to  engage  in  this  conspiracy;  and 
by  his  means  entered  the  chamber  where  the  king 
lay,  and  murdered  him  in  his  sleep.  He  then  went 
immediately  to  Artaxerxes,  the  third  son  of  Xerxes. 
He  informed  him  of  the  murder,  charging  Darius  his 
eldest  brother  with  it;  as  if  impatience  to  ascend  the 
throne  had  prompted  him  to  that  execrable  deed  He 
added,  that  to  secure  the  crown  to  himself,  he  was 
resolved  to  murder  him  also,  for  which  re  i^on  it 
would  be  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  keep  upon 
his  guard.  These  words  having  made  the  impreuioa 
on  Artaxerxes,  who  was  still  a  youth,  which  Artnha- 
nus  desired,  he  went  immediately  into  his  brother's 
apartment,  where,  being  assisted  by  Artabanus  and 
his  guards,  he  murdered  him.  HytlMp^t,  Xerxrg's 
second  son,  was  next  heir  to  the  crown  after  Darius; 
but  as  he  was  then  in  Bactriana,  of  which  he  wis  gov- 
ernor, Artabanus  seated  Artaxerxes  on  the  throne, 
with  the  design  of  suffering  him  to  enjoy  it  no  longer 
than  till  he  had  formed  a  faction  strong  enough  to 
drive  him  from  it,  and  ascend  it  himself.  His  great 
authority  had  gained  him  a  multitude,  of  dependants; 


•  Miw',7.  lepim   Ath.-nan,  ju«niou,i  inclyta*  lp?e«  Solonit 
donnrihere,  el  aliurnin  firari;i!   civitatum    instituta,    more* 
jurnr|ue  noiicre.    Dwinm  tabularum  leges  perlatie  Runt  ('qui- 
bin  ailjpctip    posti'a   duir)  qui  mine  quoque  in  hoc  immenso 
nltnrnm  mper  nlim  privnfarum  lojrntn  cumulo.   Cons   omnki 
pnliliri  privntiqnc  rut  juris.     Lin.  I.  iii.  n.  ?*.   ••*'  34. 

•  CtpK.  p.  ii.     Diod    I.  xi.  p  .72.     Justin.  ..  iii.  c.  I 
'  Thin  wan  not  Artabanni  the  uncle  of  Xersc*     . 
t  AriM.  Polit.  I.  r.  c.  10.  p.  404. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


273 


o»ti(tes  this,  he  had  seven  sons,  who  were  tall,  hand- 
ininr,  strong-,  courageous,  and  raised  to  the  highest 
employments  in  the  empire.  The  aid  he  hoped  to 
receive  from  ihem,  was  the  chief  motive  of  his  raising 
his  \  lews  so  high.  But  whilst  he  wag  attempting  to 
complete  his  design,  Artaxerxes  being  informed  of  this 
plot  by  JMegahyzus,  who  had  married  one  of  his  sis- 
lers,  endeavoured  to  anticipate  him,  and  killed  him 
before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  nutting  his  treason 
in  execution.  His  death  established  tKis  prince  in 
the  possession  of  the  kingdom. 

Tims  we  have  seen  the  end  of  Xerxes,  who  was 
one  of  the  most  powerful  princes  that  ever  lived.  It 
would  be  needless  for  me  to  anticipate  the  reader, 
with  respect  to  the  judgment  he  ought  to  form  of  him. 
We  see  him  surrounded  with  whatever  is  greatest  and 
most  brilliant  in  the  opinion  of  mankind;  the  most 
ixtnisive  empire  at  that  time  in  the  world;  immense 
treasures,  and  forces  both  by  land  and  sea,  whose 
number  appears  incredible.  All  these  things,  how- 
ever, ;ire  round  him,  not  in  him,  and  add  no  lustre  to 
his  natural  qualities:  but  by  a  blindness  too  Common 
to  princes  and  great  men,  born  in  the  midst  of  abun- 
dance, heir  to  boundless  power,  and  a  lustre  that  had 
ro«t  him  nothing,  he  had  accustomed  himself  to  judge 
of  his  own  talents  and  personal  merit  from  the  exte- 
rior of  his  exalted  station  and  rank.  He  disregards 
the  wise  counsels  of  Artabanus  his  uncle,  and  of  De- 
maratus,  who  alone  had  courage,  enough  to  speak 
truth  to  him;  and  he  abandons  himself  to  courtiers, 
the  adorers  of  his  fortune,  whose  whole  study  it  wag 


to  soothe  his  passions.  He  proportions,  and  pretendi 
to  regulate,  the  success  of  his  enterprises,  by  the  ex- 
tent of  his  power.  The  slavish  submission  of  so  many 
nations  no  longer  soothes  his  ambition;  and.  disgust- 
ed with  too  easy  an  obedience,  he  takes  pleasure  in 
exercising  his  power  over  the  elements,  in  cutting  hia 
way  through  mountains,  and  making  them  navigable; 
in  chastising  the  sea  for  having  broken  down  his 
bridge,  and  in  foolishly  attempting  to  shackle  the 
waves,  by  throwing  fetters  into  them.  Puffed  up  with 
a  childish  vanity  and  a  ridiculous  pride,  he  look*  upon 
himself  as  the  arbiter  of  nature:  he  imagines,  that 
not  a  nation  in  the  world  will  dare  to  wait  his  arrival; 
and  fondly  and  presumptuously  relies  on  the  millioiii 
of  men  and  ships  which  he  drags  after  him.  But 
when,  after  the  battle  of  Salamis,  he  beholds  the  sad 
ruins,  the  shameful  remains,  of  his  numberless  troops 
scattered  over  all  Greece;1  he  then  is  sensible  of  the 
wide  difference  between  an  army  and  a  crowd  of  men. 
In  a  wor'd,  to  form  a  right  judgment  of  Xerxes,  we 
need  but  contrast  him  with  a  plain  citizen  of  Athens. 
a  Miltiades,  Themistocles,  or  Aristides.  In  the  latter 
we  find  all  the  good  sense,  prudence,  ability  in  war, 
valour,  and  greatness  of  soul;  in  the  former  we  see 
nothing  but  vanity,  pride,  obstinacy  ;  the  meanest 
and  most  grovelling  sentiments,  and  sometimes  the 
most  horrid  barbarity. 


>  Stratusque  per  totan  passim  Grceciam  Xerxes  intelleiit 
quantum  ab  exercitu  turoa  dUtaret.  Scnec.  de  Benrf.  1.  vi 
c.  32. 


THE  ANCIENT  HISTORY 


OF  THE 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


BOOK  VII. 


The  first  and  third  chapter*  of  this  Book  include  the  history 
of  the  Prrsiims  and  Greeks,  during  lortv-ci-rlit  years  and 
some  month*,  which  contain  the  reisn  of  Artaxerxci  Lon- 
pinviniis;  the  lust  six  years  of  whirh  answer  t»  the  <ii 
first  of  the  IVIopontiesian  wnr.  This  space  of  time  begins 
at  the  year  nf  the  world  3531.  and  ends  at  3579. 

DIP  siToii'l  chapter  comprehend*  the  other  transnctioni  of 
tlu>  <3"-."k«.  whirl)  happened  Ixith  in  Sicily  and  Italy  du- 
ring tVj  interval  above  mentioned. 


CHAPTER  I. 

TH's  chapter  include!"  the  history  of  the  Persians 
»rd  Greeks,  front  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Ar- 
•n%f  r\es  to  the  Peloponnesian  war,  which  began  in 
the  42d  year  of  that  king's  reign. 

SECTION  I.— ARTAXERXES  RUINS  THE  FACTION 
OF  ARTARAXUS,  AND  THAT  OF  HVSTA9PES  HIS 
CI.DZR  BROTHER. 

THE  Greek  historians  give  this 

A.  M.  3531.     prince  the  surname  of  Longimanus. 

Ant.  I.  C.  473.     Strabo    says,1    it   was    because    his 

hands  were  so  long,  that  when  he 

itood   iprisrht  he   could  touch   his  knees  with   them: 

but  a  cording  to  Plutarch,2  it  was  because  his  right 

hand  *as  longer  than  his  left.     Had  it  not  been  for 


i  1  b.  xv.  p.  735, 
VCL.  I. — 35 


•  In  Artax.  p.  1011. 


this  blemish,  he  would  have  been  the  most  graceful 
man  of  his  age.  He  was  still  more  remarkable  for 
his  goodness  and  generosity.  He  reigned  about  for- 
ty-nine years. 

Although  Artaxerxes,* by  the  death  of  Artabnnnt, 
was  delivered  from  a  dangerous  competitor,  there  still 
were  two  obstacles  in  his  way,  before  he  could  es- 
tablish himself  in  the  quiet  possession  of  his  throne; 
one  of  which  was  his  brother  Hystajpes,  governor  of 
Bactriana;  and  the  other,  the  faction  of  Artabanus. 
He  began  by  the  latter. 

Artabanus  had  left  seven  sons,  and  a  great  numbet 
of  partisans,  who  soon  assembled  to  revenge  his  death. 
These  and  the  adherents  of  Artaxerxes,  fought  • 
bloody  battle,  in  which  a  great  number  of  Persian 
nobles  lost  their  lives.  Artaxerxes  having  at  last  en- 
tirely defeated  hi?  enemies,  put  to  death  all  who  had 
engaged  in  this  conspiracy.  He  took  an  exemplary 
vengeance  of  those  that  were  concerned  in  his  father's 
murder,  and  particularly  of  Mithridates  the  eunuch, 
who  had  betrayed  him:  he  made  him  suffer  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  trmtghs,  which  was  executed  in  the 
following  manner.  He  was  laid  on  his  back  in  a  kind 
of  horse-trough,  and  strongly  fastened  to  the  four 
corners  of  it.4  Every  part  of  him,  except  bis  head,  hit 


•  ClM.  e.  xxx. 


Plat,  in  Artai.  p.  1019. 


274 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


hands,  and  feet,  which  came  out  at  holes  made  for  that 
purpose,  was  covered  with  another  trough.  In  this 
horrid  situation  victuals  were  given  him  from  time 
to  time;  and  in  case  of  his  refusal  to  eat,  (hey  were 
forced  down  his  throat;  honey  mixed  with  milk  was 
given  him  to  drink,  and  all  his  face  was  smeared  with 
It.  which  by  that  means  attracted  a  numberless  multi- 
tude of  Hies,  especially  as  he  was  perpetually  exposed 
to  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun.  The  worms  which 
bred  in  his  excrements  preyed  upon  his  bowels.  The 
criminal  lived  fifteen  or  twenty  days  in  inexpressible 
torments. 

Artaxerxes  having  crushed  the  faction  of  Artaba- 
nus,'  was  powerful  enough  to  send  an  army  into  Bac- 
triana.  which  had  declared  in  favour  of  his  brother,  but 
he  was  not  equally  successful  on  this  occasion.  The 
two  armies  engaging,  Hystaspes  stood  his  ground  so 
well,  that  if  he  did  not  gain  the  victory,  he  at  least 
sustained  no  loss;  so  that  both  armies  separated  with 
equal  success,  and  each  retired  to  prepare  for  a  sec- 
ond battle.  Artaxerxes  having  raised  a  greater  army 
than  his  brother,  and  having^  besides  the  whole  em- 
pire in  his  favour,  defeated  nim  in  a  second  engage- 
ment, and  entirely  ruined  his  party.  By  this  victory 
he  secured  to  himself  the  quiet  possession  of  the  em- 
pire. 

To  maintain  himself  on  the  throne,*  he  removed 
from  their  employment  all  such  governor*  of  cities 
and  provinces  as  he  suspected  of  holding  a  correspon- 
dence with  either  of  the  factions  he  had  overcome, 
and  substituted  others  on  whom  he  could  rely.  He 
afterwards  applied  himself  to  reform  the  abuses  and 
disorders  which  had  crept  into  the  government.  By 
this  wise,  conduct  and  zeal  for  the  public,  good,  he 
soon  acquired  great  reputation  and  authority,  together 
with  the  love  of  his  subjects,  the  strongest  support  of 
sovereign  power. 

SECTION    II. — THEM1STOCLES    TAKES   REFUGE 
WITH  ARTAXERXES. 

ACCORDING  to  Thucydides,  The- 
A.  M.  3531.  mistocles  fled  to  this  prince  in  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  473.  beginning  of  his  reign;  but  other 
authors,  as  Strabo,  Plutarch,  Dio- 
dorus,  fix  this  incident  under  Xerxes  his  predecessor. 
Dean  Prideaux  is  of  the  latter  opinion;  he  likewise 
thinks,  that  the  Artaxerxes  in  question  is  the  same 
who  is  called  Ahasuerus  in  Scripture,  and  who  mar- 
ried Esther;  but  we  suppose,  with  the  learned  arch- 
bishop Usher,  that  it  was  Darius  the  son  of  Hystas- 
pes  who  espoused  this  illustrious  Jewess.  I  have  al- 
ready declared  more  than  once,  that  I  would  not  en- 
page  in  controversies  of  this  kind ;  and  therefore,  with 
regard  to  this  flischt  of  Themistocles  into  Persia,  and 
•he  history  of  Esther,  I  shall  follow  the  opinion  of  the 
•earned  Usher,  my  usunl  guide  on  these  occasions. 

We  have  seen  that  Themistocles  had  fled  to  Ad- 
rnetus,8  king  of  the  Molossi,  and  had  met  with  a  gra- 
cious reception  from  him  ;  but  the  Athenians  and 
Lacedaemonians  would  not  suffer  him  to  remain  there 
in  pence,  and  required  that  prince  to  deliver  him  up; 
threatening,  in  case  of  refusal,  to  carry  their  arms  in- 
to his  country.  Admetus,  who  was  unwilling  to  draw 
»nch  formidable  enemies  upon  himself,  and  much 
more  to  deliver  up  the  man  who  had  fled  to  him  for 
refuge,  informed  him  of  the  great  danger  to  which  he 
was  exposed,  and  favoured  his  flight.  Themistocles 
went  as  far  by  land  as  Pydna,  a  city  of  Macedonia, 
and  there  embarked  on  board  a  merchant  »hip  which 
was  bound  to  Ionia.  None  of  the  passengers  knew 
him*  A  ftorm  having  carried  this  vessel  near  the 
island  of  Naxos,  then  besieged  by  the  Athenians:  the 
imminent  danger  to  which  Themistocles  was  exposed, 
obliged  him  to  discover  himself  to  the  pilot  and  mas- 
ter of  the  ship;  after  which,  by  entreaties  and  mena- 
ces, he  forced  them  to  sail  towards  Asia. 

Themistocles  might  on  this  occasion  call  to  mind  an 
expression  which  his  father  had  made  use  of,*  when 


i  Ctns.  c.  Txxi.  •  Diod.  1.  xi.  p.  54. 

•  Tliueyd.  I.  i.  p.  00.  91.     Plot,   in  Thcmist.   p.   125.  127. 
ttnd.  1.  xi.  p  42.  44.     Corn.  Nep.  in  Themiit.  c.  yiii.  x. 

*  I'lut.  in  Themiit.  p  J13. 


he  was  very  young,  in  order  to  warn  him  to  lay  rr.rj 
little  stress  on  the  favour  of  the  common  people.  They 
were  then  walking  together  in  the  harbour.  His  father 
pointing  to  some  rotten  galleys  that  lay  neglected  on 
the  strand,  "  Look  there,"  says  he,  "  son,"  pointing 
to  them,  "  thus  do  the  people  treat  their  governors, 
when  they  can  do  them  no  farther  service." 

He  arrived  at  Cunife,  a  city  of  jEolia  in  A«ia  Minor. 
The  king'  of  Persia  had  set  a  price  upon  his  head, 
and  promised  200  talents5  to  any  person  who  slicjld 
deliver  him  up.  The  whole  coast  was  covered  with 
people,  who  were  watching  for  him.  He  fled  to 
./Ega?,  a  little  city  of  jEolia,  where  no  one  knew  him 
except  Nicogenes,  at  whose  house  he  lodged.  He 
was  the  most  wealthy  man  in  that  country,  and  very 
intimate:  with  all  the  lords  of  the  Persian  court.  The- 
mistocles was  concealed  some  days  in  his  house,  till 
Nicogenes  sent  him  under  a  strong  guard  to  Susa,  in 
one  of  those  covered  chariots  in  which  the  Persians, 
who  were  extremely  jealous,  used  to  carry  their 
wives;  those  who  conducted  him  telling  every  body, 
that  they  were  carrying  a  young  Greek  lad}'  to  a 
Courtier  of  great  distinction. 

Being  come  to  the  Persian  court,  he  waited  upon 
the  captain  of  the  guards,  and  tola  him  that  he  was  a 
Grecian  by  birth,  and  begged  the  king  would  admit 
him  to  audience,  as  he  had  matters  of  great  impor- 
tance to  communicate  to  him.  The  officer  informed 
him  of  a  ceremony  which  he  knew  was  offensive  to 
some  Greeks,  but  without  which  none  were  allowed 
to  speak  to  the  king;  and  this  was,  to  fall  prostrate 
before  him.  "Our  laws,"  says  he,  "command  us  to 
honour  the  king  in  that  manner  and  to  worship  hink 
as  the  living  image  of  the  immortal  God,  who  main- 
tains and  preserves  all  things."  Themistocles  prom- 
ised to  comply.  Being  admitted  to  audience,  he  fell 
on  his  face  before  the  king,  after  the  Persian  manner; 
and  afterwards  rising  up,  "  Great  king,"6  says  he  by 
an  interpreter,  "I  am  Themistocles  the  Athenian 
who  having  been  banished  by  the  Greeks,  am  come 
to  your  court  in  hopes  of  finding  an  asylum.  I  have 
indeed  brought  many  calamities  on  the  Persians;  but 
on  the  other  side,  I  have  done  them  no  less  services 
by  the  salutary  advice  I  have  given  them  more  than 
once;  and  I  am  now  able  to  do  them  more  important 
services  than  ever.  My  life  is  in  your  hands.  You 
may  now  exert  your  clemency,  or  display  your  ven 
geance;  by  the  former  you  will  preserve  your  sup- 
pliant; <»nd  by  the  latter  you  will  destroy  th"e  greatest 
enemy  of  Greece." 

The  king  made  him  no  answer  at  this  audience, 
though  he  was  struck  with  admiration  at  his  great 
sense  and  boldness;  but  history  informs  us,  that  in 
company  of  his  friends,  he  congratulated  himself  upon 
his  good  fortune,  and  considered  Themistocles's  ar- 
rival as  a  very  great  happiness;  that  he  implored  his 
god  Arimanius  always  to  inspire  his  enemies  with 
such  thoughts,  and  to  prompt  them  to  banish,  ami 
thus  to  deprive  themselves  of,  their  most  illustrious 
personages.  It  is  added,  that  when  this  kin;:  was 
asleep,  he  started  up  three  times  through  excess  of  joy, 
and  cried,  "I  have  got  Themistocles  the  Athenian!" 

The  next  morning,  at  day-break,  he  sent  for  the 
greatest  lords  of  his  court,  and  commanded  Themis- 
tocles to  be  brought  before  him,  who  expected  no- 
thing but  destruction;  especially  after  what  one  of  his 
guards,  upon  hearing  his  name,  had  s:iid  to  him  the 
night  before,  even  in  the  presence-chamber,  just  as 
he  had  left  the  king,  "Thou  serpent  of  Greece,  thoa 
compound  of  fraud  and  malire,  the  good  genius  of 
our  prince  brings  thee  hither!"  However,  the  seren- 
ity which  appeared  in  the  king's  face  seemed  to  pro- 
mise him  a  favourable  reception.  Themistocles  was 
not  mistaken;  for  the  king  began  by  making  him  a 
present  of  200  talents,7  which  sum  he  had  promised 


•  Two  hundred  thousand  crowns,  or  about  45,000/.  tier- 
ling. 

•  Thnryilulen  attributes  to  him  very  near  the  samp  wordi 
liut  nit  forming  a  letter  whi<:h  he  ATOIC  to  the  king  before  he 
wa«  introduced  to  him. 

•  Two  hundred  thousand  French  crowns;  or  about  4V* 
OOO;.  sterling. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


275 


•o  any  one  who  should  deliver  him  op,  which  conse- 
quently was  his  due,  as  Thcmistock-s  had  brought  him 
his  hewd,  by  surrendering  himself  to  him.  He  after- 
Hards  desired  him  to  give  an  account  of  the  affairs 
of  Greece.  But  as  Themistocles  could  not  express 
his  thoughts  to  the  king  without  the  assistance  of  an 
interpreter,  he  desired  time  might  be  allowed  him  to 
learn  the  Persian  tongue;  hoping  he  then  should  be 
able  to  explain  those  things  which  he  was  desirous  of 
communicating  to  him,  better  than  he  could  by  the 
•id  of  a  third  person.  It  is  the  same,  savs  he,  with 
(he  speech  jf  a  man.  as  with  a  piece  of  tapestry,  which 
must  be  spread  out  and  unfolded,  to  show  the  figure* 
•nd  beauty  of  tiie  work.  His  request  being  granted, 
Themisiocles,  in  the  space  of  twelve  mcr.iiia,  made 
•o  great  a  progress  in  the  Persian  language,  that  he 
•poke  it  with  greater  elegance  than  the  Persians 
themselves, and  constque nlly  could  converse  with  the 
king  without  the  help  of  an  interpreter.  This  prince 
treated  him  with  uncommon  marks  of  friendship  and 
esteem;  he  made  him  marry  a  lady  descended  from 
one  of  the  noblest  families  in  Persia:  gave  him  a  pa- 
lace and  an  equipage  suitable  to  it,  and  settled  a  no- 
ble pension  on  him.  He  used  to  carry  him  abroad  on 
his  parties  of  hunting,  and  invited  him  to  every  ban- 
quet and  entertainment;  and  sometimes  conversed 
privately  with  him,  so  that  the  lords  of  the  court  grew 
jealous  and  uneasy  upon  that  account.  He  even  pre- 
sented him  to  the  princesses,  who  honoured  him  with 
their  esteem,  and  received  his  visits.  It  is  observed 
as  a  proof  of  the  peculiar  favour  showed  him,  tiat  by 
the  king's  special  order,  Themistocles  was  admitted 
to  hear  the  lectures  and  discourses  of  the  Magi,  «nd 
was  instructed  by  them  in  all  the  secrets  of  their  phi- 
losophy. 

Another  proof  of  his  great  influence  is  related. 
Demaratus  of  Sparta,  who  was  then  at  court,  being 
commanded  by  the  king  to  ask  any  thing  of  him,  he 
desired  that  he  might  be  suffered  to  make  his  entry  on 
horseback  into  the  city  of  Sardis,  with  the  royal  tiara 
on  his  head:  a  ridiculous  vanity  !  equally  unworthy  of 
the  Grecian  grandeur,  and  the  simplicity  of  a  Lace- 
daemonian! The  king,  exasperated  at  the  insolence 
of  his  demand,  expressed  his  disgust  in  the  strongest 
terms  and  seemed  resolved  not  to  pardon  him;  but 
Themistocles  having  interceded,  the  king  restored 
him  to  favour. 

In  tine,  the  credit  and  influence  of  Themistocles 
was  so  great,  that  under  the  succeeding  reigns,  in 
which  the  affairs  of  Persia  were  still  more  mixed  with 
those  of  Greece,  whenever  the  Lins:s  were  desirous 
of  engaging  any  Greek  in  their  service,  they  used  to 
declare  expressly  in  the ir  letters,  that  he  sho'uld  he  in 
greater  favour  with  them  than  Tliemistocles  had  been 
with  Artaxerxes. 

It  i-  said  also  that  Themistocles,  when  in  his  most 
flourishing  condition  in  Persia,  honoured  and  esteem- 
ed by  nil  the  wcrld,  who  were  emulous  in  making 
their  court  to  him,  said  one  day,  when  his  table  was 
covered  magnificently:  "Children,  we  should  have 
been  ruined,  it  we  had  not  been  ruined." 

But  at  last,  as  it  was  judged  necessary  for  the  king's 
interest  that  Themistocle*  should  reside  in  some  city 
of  Asia  Minor,  that  he  might  be  ready  on  any  occa- 
sion which  should  present  itself;  he  was  accordingly 
sent  to  Magnesia,  situated  on  the  Meander;  and  be- 
sides the  whole  revenues  of  that  city  (which  amount- 
ed to  fifty  talents'  every  year,)  he  had  those  of. MX  us 
and  Lampsacns  assigned'  him  for  his  maintenance. 
One  of  the  cities  was  to  furnish  him  with  bread,  an- 
other with  wine,  and  a  third  with  other  provisions. 
Some  authors  add  two  more,  riz.  for  his  furniture  and 
clothes.  Such  was  the  custom  of  the  ancient  kings 
of  the  F.ast:  instead  of  settling  pensions  on  persons 
whom  they  rewarded,  they  gave  them  cities,  and 
lometimes  even  provinces,  which  under  the  name  of 
bread,  wine,  ec.  were  to  furnish  them  abundantly 
with  all  things  necessary  for  supporting,  in  a  msffni- 
ficent  manner,  their  household  establishment.  The- 
nistocles  lived  for  some  years  in  Magnesia  in  the 


i  Fifty  trnawnd  crown* :  or,  about  11,2507.  iterlinj. 


utmost  splendour,  till  he  came  to  his  enc  in  the  man 
ner  which  will  be  related  hereafter. 

SECTION  III.— CIMON  BEGINS  TO  MAKE  A  FIGURE 

AT     ATHENS.        HIS     IIRST     ACHIEVEMENTS.        A 

DOUBLE   VICTORY   GAINED    fAER   THE    PERSIANS, 

NEAR  THE  RIVER  EURlf-MEDON.      DEATH  OF  THE- 

R1ISTOCUES. 

THE  Athenians  having  lost  one 
of  theirnicst  distinguished  citizens,8  A.  M.  3533. 

t\s  well  as  ablest  generals,  by  the      Ant.  J.  C.  471. 
hanishnx  r«t  of Themistoclt?,  endea- 
voured ti>  retrieve   that  loss,  by  bestowing  the  com- 
mand of  the  armies  on  Cimon,  who  was  not    inferior 
io  him  in  merit.  • 

He  spent  h's  youth  in  such  excesses  as  did  him  no 
honour,  and  presaged  no  good  with  regard  to  his  fu- 
ture conduct.  The  example  of  this  illustrious  Athe- 
nian,3 who  passed  his  juvenile  years  in  so  dissolute 
a  manner,  and  afterwards  rose  to  so  exalted  a  pitch 
of  glory,  shows,  that  parents  must  not  always  despair 
of  a  son,  when  wild  and  irregular  in  his  youth;  espe- 
cially when  nature  has  endued  him  with  genius,  good- 
ness of  heart,  generous  inclinations,  and  an  esteem 
for  persons  of  merit.  Such  was  the  character  of  Ci 
rnon.  The  ill  reputation  he  had  drawn  upon  himself 
having  prejudiced  the  people  against  him,  he  at  first 
was  very  ill  received  by  thun:  when,  being  discour 
a°;ed  by  this  repulse,  he  resolved  to  lay  aside  all 
thoughts  of  concerning  himsell  with  public,  business. 
But  Aristides  |>erceiving,  through  all  his  faults,  tha'. 
he  possessed  many  fine  qualities,  consoled  him.  in- 
spired him  with  hope,  pointed  out  the  path  he  should 
take,  instilled  good  principles  into  him,  and  did  not  a 
little  contribute,  by  the  excellent  instructions  he  gave 
him,  and  the  affection  he  expressed  for  him  on  all  oc- 
casions, to  make  him  the  man  he  alterwards  appeared. 
What  more  important  service  could  be  have  done  his 
country? 

Plutarch  observes,*  that  after  Cimon  had  laid  aside 
his  juvenile  extravagances,  his  conduct  was  in  every 
respect  great  and  noble:  and  that  he  was  not  inferior 
to  Miltiadf  s  either  in  courage  and  intrepidity,  nor  to 
Themistocles  in  prudence  and  sense;  but  that  he  was 
more  just  and  virtuous  than  either  of  them;  and  that 
without  being  at  all  interior  to  them  in  military  excel- 
lence, he  far  surpassed  them  in  the  practice  of  the 
moral  virtues. 

It  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  a  state,  if  those 
who  excel  in  particular  professions  wot. Id  take  plea- 
sure, anrl  make  it  their  duty,  to  fashion  and  instruct 
such  youths  as  are  remarkable  for  the  pregnancy  of 
their  parts  and  goodness  of  disposition.  They  would 
thereby  have  an  opportunity  of  serving  their  country 
even  after  their  death,  and  of  perpetuating,  in  the 
person  of  their  pupils,  a  taste  and  inclination  for  true 
merit,  and  the  practice  of  the  wisest  maxims. 

The  Athenians,  a  little  after  Themistocles  had  lift 
his  country.,  having  put  to  sea  a  lleet  under  the  com- 
mand of  Cimon  the  son  of  Miltiades,  took  Finn,  on 
the  banks  of  the  Slrymon,  Amphipolis,  and  other  pla- 
ces of  Thrace;  and  as  this  was  a  very  fruitful  country, 
Cimon  planted  a  colony  in  it,  and  sent  10,000  Athe- 
nians thither  for  that  purpose. 

The  fate  of  Eion  is  too  singular  to  be  omitted  here.* 
Boges*  was  governor  of  it  under  the  king  of  Persia, 
and  acted  with  such  a  real  and  fidelity  for  his  sove- 
reign, as  have  few  examples.  When  besieged  by 
Cimon  and  the  Athenians,  it  was  in  his  power  to  hare 
capitulated  upon  honourable  terms,  and  to  have  re- 
turned to  Asia  with  his  family  and  all  his  effects. 
However,  being  persuaded  he  could  not  do  this  with 
honour,  he  resolved  to  die  rather  than  surrender.  The 
city  was  assaulted  with  the  utmost  fury,  and  he  de- 
fended it  with  incredible  bravery.  Being  at  last  in 
the  utmost  want  of  provisions,  he  threw  from  the  walli 


•  Plod.  1.  xi.  p.  45.     Plut.  in  Cim.  p.  4P2,  <83. 

•  I'lut   in  Cim.  p.  4PO.  «  Ibid.  p.  481. 

•  Herod.  I.  vii.  e.  107.     Plut.  p.  4P2. 

«  Plutarch  calif  him  Bull*.  Herodotnj  tfemt  to  pU**  thu 
hintory  uncer  Xerxei;  but  u  i*  more  probable  thai  il  hip- 
pened  uuder  Aruxerxei  his  ncresaor 


276 

into  the  river  Strymon  all  ttie  gold  and  silver  in  the 
place;  then  caused  fire  to  beset  to  a  pile,  and  having 
tilled  his  wife,  his  children,  and  his  whole  family,  he 
threw  them  into  the  midst  of  the  flames,  and  after- 
war  Is  rushed  into  them  himself.  The  king- of  Persia 
coul  i  not  but  admire,  and  at  the  same  time  bewail,  so 
surprising  an  example  of  generosity.  The  heathens, 
indeed,  might  give  this  name  to  what  is  rather  savage 
ferocity  and  barbarity. 

Ciuion  made  himself  master  also  of  the  island  of 
Scyros.  where  he  found  the  bones  of  Theseus,  the 
son  of  /Egeus,  who  had  fled  from  Athens  ID  that  city, 
and  there  ended  his  days.  An  oracle  had  command- 
ed that  search  should  be  made  after  his  bones.  Cimon 
put  them  on  board  his  galley,  adorned  them  magnifi- 
cently, and  carried  them  to  hi»  native  country,  near 
800  years  after  Theseus  had  left  it.  The  people  re- 
ceived them  with  the  hisrhest  expressions  of  joy ;  and, 
to  perpetuate  the  reiw -inbranre  of  this  event,  they  in- 
stituted Barnes  in  which  the  tragic  poets  were  to  try 
their  skill,  which  became  very  famous,  and  contributed 
exceedingly  to  the  improvement  of  the  drama  by  the 
wonderful  emulation  it  excited  among  the  tragic 
poets,  whose  pieces  were  represented  on  the  stajj-e. 
For  Sophocles,  who  was  then  a  young  man,  having 
brought  his  first  play  on  the  stag'e,  the  archon,  who 
presided  at  these  games,  observing  there  was  a  «trong 
faction  among  the  spectators,  prevailed  with  Cimon 
and  the  re«t  of  the  generals  his  colleagues  (who  were 
ten  in  number,  and  chosen  one  out  of  each  tribe,)  to 
sit  as  judges.  The  prize  was  adjudged  to  Sophocles, 
which  so  deeply  afflicted  .SUchylus,  who  till  then  had 
been  considered  as  the  greatest  dramatic  poet,  that 
Athens  became  insupportable  to  him,  and  he  with- 
drew to  Sicily,  where  he  died. 

The  confederates  had  taken  a  "treat  number  of 
barbarian  prisoners  in  Sestus  and  Byzantium;'  and, 
as  a  proof  of  the  high  regard  they  had  for  Cimon, 
entreated  him  to  distribute  the  booty.  Accordingly, 
Cimon  placed  all  the  captives  (stark  naked)  on  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  all  their  riches  and  spoils.  The 
allies  complained  of  this  partition  as  too  unequal; 
but  Cimon  giving  them  the  choice,  they  immediately 
took  the  riches  wh'ch  belonged  fo  the' Persians,  and 
left  the  prisoners  lor  the  Athenians.  Cimon  there- 
fore set  out  wilh  his  portion,  and  was  considered  very 
little  qualified  to  settle  the  distribution  of  prizes:  fo'r 
the  allies  carried  off  a  great  number  of  chains,  neck- 
laces, and  bracelets  of  gold;  a  large  quantity  of  rich 
habits,  and  fine  purple  cloaks;  whilst  the  Athenians 
had  for  their  share  only  a  multitude  of  human  crea- 
tures, quite  naked,  and  unfit  for  labour.  However, 
•he  relations  ami  friends  of  these  captives  came  soon 
after  from  Phrygia  and  Lydia,  and  purchased  them  all 
at  a  very  high  price;  so,  that,  with  the  money  arising 
from  their  ransom,  Cimon  had  enough  to  maintain  his 
fleet  four  months;  besides  a  great  sum  of  money 
which  was  put  into  the  public  treasury,  not  to  men- 
tion what  he  had  himself  for  his  own  share.  He  af- 
terward* used  to  take  exceeding  pleasure,  in  relating 
this  adventure  to  his  friends. 

He  made  the  best  use  of  his  riches,*  as  Gorofias  the 
rhetorician  has  happily  expressed  it  in  few,  but  strong 
and  elegant  words.  "Cimon,"  says  he,*  "amassed 
riches  on'y  to  use  them ;  and  he  employed  them  so  as 
to  acquir  esteem  and  honour."  We  may  here  per- 
ceive (by  the  way)  what  was  the  scope  and  aim  of 
the  mo«t  exalted  actions  of  the  heathens;  and  with 
what  justice  Tertullian  defined  a  Pagan,  how  perfect 
soever  he  might  appear,  a  vain-glorious  animal,  ani- 
mal gloria.  The  gardens  and  orchards  of  Cimon 
were  always  open,  by  his  order,  to  the  citizens  in  gen- 
eral;  who  were  allowed  to  g-ather  whatever  fruits 
they  pleased.  His  table  was  daily  covered  in  a  frugal 
but  polite  manner.  It  was  entirely  different  from  those 
definite  and  sumptuous  tables,  to  which  only  a  few 
persons  of  great  distinction  are  admitted;  and  which 


i  Plut.  in  Cim   p.  434. 

*  Pint,  in  Cim.  p.  184.    Cornel.  N«-p.  in  Cim.  €  IT.  Atb*a. 
I.  xii.  p.  5?3. 

•  4>>.<r\   TC»    Kin.-**    T»    Xfiijitara    *ltrt»l  ftit   if    Xf"T*i 
Kutriai  Si  If  T..U..I  i. 


are  covered  merely  to  display  a  vain  nia'i.ifire  nee  9T 
elegance  ot  tast<-.  That  ol  (,'iinon  was  plain,  bvt 
abundant;  and  all  the  poor  citiztus  were  received  at 
it  without  distinction.  In  thus  banishing  from  Ins  en 
tertainnients  whatever  had  the  least  air  of  ostentation 
and  luxury,  he  reserved  to  himself  an  inexhaustible 
fund,  not  only  lor  the  expenses  of  his  house,  but  for 
the  wants  of  his  friends,  his  domestics,  and  a  vtn  great 
number  of  citizens;  demonstrating,  by  this  conduct* 
that  he  knew  much  better  than  most  rich  men  the  true 
use  and  value  of  riches. 

He  was  always  followed  by  some  servants,  wno 
,vere  ordered  to  slip  privately  a  piece  of  inonty  into 
the  hands  of  such  poor  as  they  met,  and  to  giv« 
clothes  to  those  who  were  in  want  of  them.  He  often 
buried  such  persons  as  had  not  Kit  money  enough 
behind  them  to  delray  the  expenses  ot  their  funeral 
and  what  is  worthy  of  admiration,  and  which  Plutarch 
does  not  fail  to  observe,  hedid  not  act  in  this  manner 
to  sjain  credit  among  the  people,  nor  to  purchase  their 
voices:  since  we  find  him,  on  all  occasions,  declaring 
for  the  contrary  faction,  that  is,  in  favour  of  such  citi- 
zens as  were  most  considerable  for  their  wealth  or 
authority. 

Although  he  saw  all  the  rest  of  the  governors  of 
his  time  enrich  themselves  by  the  plunder  and  oppres- 
sion of  the  public,*  he  was  always  incorruptible,  and 
his  hands  were  never  stained  with  extortion,  or  the 
smallest  present;  and  he  continued,  during  hi<  whole 
life,  not  only  to  speak,  but  to  act,  gratuitously,  ana 
without  the  least  view  of  interest,  whatever  he  thought 
mischt  be  of  advantage  to  the  commonwealth. 

To  a  gr*at  number  of  other  excellent  qualities,  Ci- 
mon united  sound  sense,  extraordinary  prudence,  and 
a  profound  knowledge  of  the  genius  and  character* 
of  men.  The  allies,  besides  the  sums  of  money  in 
which  each  of  them  was  taxed,  were  to  furnish  a  cer- 
tain number  of  men  and  ships.  Several  among  them, 
who,  ever  since  the  retreat  of  Xerxes,  were  studious 
of  nothing  but  their  ease,  and  applied  themselves  en- 
tirely to  the  cultivation  of  their  lands,  in  order  to  frea 
themselves  from  the  toils  and  dangers  of  war,  chose 
to  furnish  their  quota  in  money  rather  than  in  men, 
and  left  to  the  Athenians  the  care  of  manning  with 
soldiers  and  rowers  the  ships  they  were  obliged  to 
furnish.  The  other  generals,  who  had  no  forecast  and 
penetration  into  the  future,  gave  such  of  the  allies 
as  acted  in  this  manner  some  uneasiness  at  first,  ana 
were  for  obliging  them  to  observe  the  treaty  literally 
But  Cimon,  when  in  power,  acted  in  a  quite  ditferen 
manner,  and  suffered  them  to  enjoy  the  tranquillity 
they  chose;  plainly  perceiving,  that  the  allies,  insteac 
of  being,  as  formerly,  warlike  in  the  field,  would  in- 
sensibly lose  their  martial  spirit,  and  be  fit  for  nothing 
but  husbandry  and  trade;  whilst  the  Athenians,  by 
exercising1  the  oar,  and  having  arms  in  their  handt 
perpetually,  would  be  more  and  more  inured  to  the 
fatigues  of  war,  and  daily  increase  in  power.  What 
Cimon  had  foreseen  happened;  these  very  people 
purchased  themselves  masters  at  their  own  expense; 
so  that  they  who  before  had  been  companions  ai:d 
allies,  became  in  some  measure  the  subjects  and  tri- 
butaries of  the  Athenians. 

No  Grecian  general  ever  gave  so 

great  a  blow  to  the  pride  and  haugh-  A.  M.  3534. 

tiness  of  the  Persian  monarch  as  Ant.  J.  C.  470. 
Cimon.*  After  the  barbarians  had 
been  driven  out  of  Greece,  he  did  not  give  them  tim* 
to  take  breath ;  but  sailed  immediately  alter  them  with 
a  fleet  of  upwards  of  200  ships,  took  their  strongest 
cities,  and  brought  over  all  their  allies;  so  that  the 
king  of  Persia  had  not  one  soldier  left  in  Asia,  from 
Ionia  to  Pamphylia.  Still  pursuing  his  point,  he  had 
the  boldness  to  attack  the  enemy's  fleet,  though  much 
stronger  than  his  own.  It  lay  near  the  mouth  of  tha 
river  Furvmedon,  and  consisted  of  350  sail  of  ships, 
supporteJ  by  the  land  army  on  the  coast.  It  wa» 
soon  put  to  flight,  and  more  than  200  sail  were  taken 
besides  those  that  were  sunk.  A  great  number  of  the 


«  Plat,  in  Cim.  p.  485. 
•  Phut,  in  Cim.  p.  483 — 487.    Th»c 
L  xi.  p.  45—47. 


rd.  1.  i.  p.  66.    Dfcri 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


277 


Persians  had  left  their  ships,  and  leaped  into  the  sea, 
in  order  to  join  their  land  army  which  lay  on  the 
•hore.  It  was  very  hazardous  to  attempt  a  descent  in 
sight  of  the  enemy;  and  to  lead  on  troops,  which 
were  already  fatigued  by  their  late  battle, again«t  fresh 
forces  much  superior  in  number.  However,  Cimon, 
finding  that  the  whole  army  was  eager  to  engage  the 
barbarians,  thought  proper  to  take  advantage  of  the 
ardour  of  the  soldiers,  who  were  greatly  animated 
with  their  first  success.  Accordingly  lie  landed,1  and 
marched  them  directly  against  the  barbarians,  who 
waited  resolutely  for  their  coming  up,  and  sustained 
the  first  onset  w'tlh  much  valour;  however,  being  at 
l?«t  obliged  to  give  way,  they  fled.  A  great  slaugfiter 
enjved,  and  an  infinite  number  of  prisoners  and  ini-  | 
meniely  rich  spoils  were  taken.  Cimon  having,  in  one 
day,  gained  two  \  ictories,  which  almost  equalled  those 
of  Salamis  and  Platieas;  to  crown  all,  sailed  out  to 
meet  a  reinforcement  of  eighty-four  Phoenician  ships, 
which  were  coming  from  Cyprus  to  join  the  Persian 
fleet,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  had  passed.  They 
were  all  either  taken  or  sunk,  and  most  of  the  soldiers 
were  killed  or  drowned. 

Cimon,  after  these  glorious  exploits,  returned  in  tri- 
umph to  Athens;  and  employed  part  of  the  spoils  in 
fortifying  the  harbour,  and  in  beautifying  the  city. 
The  riches  which  a  general  amasses  in  the  field,  are 
applied  to  the  noblest  uses  when  they  are  disposed  of 
in  tliis  manner,  and  reflect  infinitely  greater  honour 
upon  him,  than  if  he  expended  them  in  building  mag- 
nificent palaces  for  himself,  which  must  one.  time  or 
other  devolve  to  strangers;  whereas  works,  built  for 
public  use,  are  his  properly,  in  some  measure,  for 
ever,  and  transmit  his  name  to  the  latest  posterity. 
It  i*  well  known  that  such  embellishments  in  a  city 
give  infinite  pleasure  to  the  |>eople,!  who  are  always 
struck  with  works  of  this  kind;  and  this,  as  Plutarch 
observes  in  the  life  of  Cimon,  is  one  of  the  surest, 
•ml,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  lawful,  methods  of 
•rquiring  their  friendship  and  esteem. 

The  year  following,*  this  general 
A.  M.  3535.     sailed  towards  the  Hellespont;  and 

Ant.  J.  C.  469.  having  driven  the  Persians  oat  of 
the  Thracian  Chersonesus,  of  which 
they  had  made,  themselves  masters,  he  conquered  it 
in  the  name  of  the  Athenians,  though  he  himself  had 
more  right  to  it.  as  Miltiades  his  father  had  be*n  its 
sovereign.  He  afterwards  attacked  the  people  of  the 
island  of  Thasos,  who  had  revolted  from  the  Atheni- 
ans, and  defeated  their  fleet.  They  maintained  their 
revolt  with  an  almost  unparalleled  obstinacy  and  fury. 
As  if  they  had  been  in  amis  against  the  most  cruel 
And  barbarous  enemies,*  from  whom  they  had  the 
worst  of  evils  to  fear,  they  made  a  law,  that  the  first 
m-,n  who  should  only  mention  the  concluding  a  treaty 
with  the  Athenians,  should  be  put  to  death.  The 
sieur  was  carried  on  three  years,  during  which  the  in- 
habitants suffered  all  the  calamities  of  war  with  the 
sanu-  obstinacy.  The  women  were  no  less  inflexible 
than  the  men;*  for,  when  the  besieged  wanted  ropes 
for  tin  ir  military  engines,  all  the  women  cut  offtheir 
hair  \viih  the  greatest  n  ariiness.  and  applied  it  to  that 
purp  <se.  The  city  being:  reduced  to  the  utmost  dis- 
tress by  famine,  which  daily  swept  sway  a  great  num- 
ber of'  the  inhabitants,  Hegetorides,"  a  Thrncian. 
deeply  afflicted  with  seeing  such  multitudes  of  his  fel- 
lnw-i-i(:zens  perish,  resolutely  determined  to  «tcrifice 
hi<  htV  for  the  preservation  of  his  country.  Accord- 
ingly, he  put  a  halter  round  his  neck,  and  presenting 
himself  to  the  assembly,  "  Countrymen."  says  he,  "  do 
with  me  as  you  please,  and  do  not  spare  me,  if  you 
judire  proper;  but  let  my  death  save  the  rest  of  the 
people,  anil  prevail  with  you  to  Rlxili-h  the  cruel  law 
you  have  enacted,  so  contrary  to  your  welfare."  The 
Thracians,  struck  with  these  words,  abolished  the 

«  Wr  HII  not  find  that  the  ancient*  made  not  of  tons  bo*t« 
in  mnkins  a  landing ;  th«-  rcamm  of  which  perhaps  was,  thil 
is  their  L-:I!|CV*  were  flat-but  tinned,  they  ft"  in  to  snore 
Without  any  difficulty. 

•  Plot,  lie  rrrpnd.  rep.  p.  Plf? 

•  Plut.  inCim.  p  4S7.    Tboc.d.  1  i.  p.  Cfl,  (T7.     Diod.  U 
Xi.  p.  5.1  *  "folren.  Str.  1   ii. 

•  Polyapn.  I   »iii 

VOL.  J.— 28 


law,  hut  would  not  suffer  it  to  cost  so  generous  • 
citiitn  his  life.  They  surrendered  themselves  to  the 
Athenians,  who  spared  their  lives,  and  only  disman- 
tled their  city. 

After  Cimon  had  landed  hi.  troops  on  the  shore 
opposite  to  Thrace,  he  seized  on  all  the  gold-mines  in 
that  quarter,  and  subdued  every  part  of  that  country 
us  far  as  Macedonia.  He  might  have  attempted  the 
conquest  of  that  kingdom;  and,  in  all  probability, 
could  have  easily  possessed  himself  of  part  of  it,  had 
he  thought  fit  to  improve  the  opportunity.  And  in- 
deed, tor  his  neglect  on  this  point,  on  his  return  to 
Athtns,  he  was  prosecuted,  as  having  been  bribed  br 
the  money  of  the  Macedonians  and  of  Alexander, 
their  king.  But  Cimon  had  a  soul  superior  to  all 
temptations  of  that  kind,  and  proved  bis  innocence  in 
the  clearest  light. 

The  conquests  of  Cimon'  and  the 

power  of  the  Athenians,  which  in-  A.  M.  3538. 

creased  every  day,  gave.  Artaxerxes       Ant.  J,  C.  466. 
great   uneasiness.     To  prevent  (he 
consequences,  he  resolved  to  send  Themistocles  into 
Attica,  with  a  great  army,  and   accordingly  proposed 
it  to  him. 

Themistocles  was  in  great  perplexity  on  this  occa- 
sion. On  one  side,  the  remembrance  of  the  favours 
which  the  king  had  heaped  upon  him;  the  positive 
assurances  he  had  given  that  monarch,  to  serve  him 
with  the  utmost  teal  on  all  occasions;  the  urgtncy  of 
the  king,  who  claimed  his  promise;  all  these  consi- 
derations would  not  permit  him  to  refuse,  the  com- 
mission. On  the  other  side,  the  love  of  his  country, 
which  the  injustice  and  ill  treatment  of  his  fellow- 
citizens  could  not  banish  from  his  mind;  his  strong 
reluctance  to  snlly  the  glory  of  his  former  laurels  ana 
mighty  achievements  by  sr>  ignominious  a  step;  per- 
haps, too,  the  fear  of  being  unsuccessful  in  a  war,  in 
which  he  should  be  opposed  by  excellent  generals, 
and  particularly  by  Cimon,  who  hitherto  had  been  as 
successful  as  valiant;  these  different  reflections  would 
not  suffer  him  to  declare  against  his  country,  in  an 
enterprise  which,  whether  successful  or  not,  could  not 
but  reHec.t  shame  on  himself. 

To  rid  himself  at  once  of  all  these  inward  strug- 
gles, he  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  his  life,7  HS  the  only 
method  he  could  devise  not  to  be  wanting  in  the  dutr 
which  he  owed  his  country,  nor  to  the  promises  he 
had  made  the  prince.  H"e  therefore  prepared  a  so- 
lemn sacrifice,  to  which  he  invited  all  his  friendi; 
when,  after  embmcing  them  all,  and  taking  a  last 
farewell  of  them,  he  drank  bull's  blood  ;  or,  according 
to  others,  swallowed  a  dose  of  poison,  and  died  in 
this  manner  at  Magnesia,  aged  threescore  and  five 
years,  the  greatest  part  of  which  he  had  spent  either 
in  the  government  of  the  republic,  or  the  command  of 
the  armies.  When  the  king  was  told  the  cause  and 
manner  of  his  death,*  he  esteemed  and  admired  him 
still  more,  and  continued  his  favour  to  his  frii  nils  and 
domestics.  But  the  unexpected  death  of  Themistocle* 
proved  an  obstacle  to  the  design  that  he  meditated 
of  attacking  the  Greeks.  The  Magnesians  erected  a 
splendid  monument  to  the  memory  of  that  general  in 
the  public,  square,  and  granted  (X-culiar  privileges  and 
honours  to  his  descendants.  They  continued  to  enjoy 
them  in  Plutarch's  time,  that  is,  near  600  years  after, 
and  his  tomb  was  still  standing. 

Atticus,9  in  the  beautiful  dialogue  of  Cicero,  enti- 
tled Brutus,  refutPs,  in  an  agreeable  and  ingenious 
manner,  the  tragical  end  which  some  writer?  ascribe 
to  Themistocles,  as  related  above;  pretending  that 
the  whole  is  a  fiction,  invented  by  rhetoricians,  who, 
on  the  bare  rumour  that  this  ereat  man  died  by  poison, 
had  of  themselves  added  all  the  other  particulars  to 
embellish  the  story,  which  otherwise  would  have  been 
very  dry  and  uninteresting.  He  appeals  for  this  to 
Thiicydides,  that  judicious  historian,  who  was  an 
Athenian,  and  almost  contemporary  with  Themi»to- 
cleg.  This  author  indeed  owns,  that  a  report  had  pre- 


t  Tnneyd.  I.  j   p  92.     P1U».  in  Th'-mist.  p.  127. 
t  The  wisent  heathen*  dM  not  think  a  man  WM  allowed  U 
lay  violent  hamhs  on  himself. 

•  Uic.  de  Setiec.  n.  72,  •  Brut,  n  42. 13 


278 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Tailed,  that  tliis  general  had  poisoned  himself;  how- 
ever, his  opinion  was.  that  he  died  a  natural  death, 
and  that  his  friends  conveyed  his  hones  secretly  to 
Athens,  where,  in  Pausanias'n  time,1  his  mausoleum 
was  standing?  near  the  great  harbour.  This  account 
seems  much  more  probable  than  the  other. 

Themistocles  was  certainly  one  of  the  greatest  men 
that  Greece  ever  produced.  He  had  a  great  soul, 
and  invincible  courage,  which  was  even  inflamed  by 
dansrer;  was  fired  with  an  incredible  thirst  for  glory, 
which  sometimes  his  patriotism  would  temper  and 
allay,  but  which  sometimes  carried  him  too  far;  his 
presence  of  mind  was  such,2  that  it  immediately  sug- 
gested whatever  course  was  most  necessary  to  pur- 
sue: in  fine,  he  had  a  sagacity  and  penetration  that 
revealed  to  him  in  the  clearest  light,  the  most  secret 
designs  of  his  enemies;  and  caused  him  to  adopt  long 
beforehand  the  several  measures  which  were  requisite 
to  disconcert  them,  and  inspire  him  with  great,  noble, 
bold,  extensive  views  with  regard  to  the  honour  of 
his  country.  The  most  essential  qualities  of  the  heart 
were,  however,  wanting  in  him,  I  mean,  probity,  sin- 
cerity, equity,  and  good  faith;  nor  was  he  altogether 
free  from  suspicions  of  avarice,  which  is  a  great  ble- 
mish in  the  character  of  a  statesman. 

Nevertheless,3  a  noble  sentiment  as  well  as  action 
is  related  of  him,  which  speak  a  great  and  disinter- 
ested soul.  His  daughter  being  asked  of  him  in  mar- 
riage,* he  preferred  an  honest  poor  man  to  a  rich  one 
of  an  indifferent  character;  and  gave  for  his  reason, 
"That  in  the  choice  of  a  son-in-law,  he  would  much 
rather  have  merit  without  riches,  than  riches  without 
mferit." 

SECTION  IV. — THE  REVOLT  OF  THE  EGYPTIANS 
ARAINST  PERSIA,  SUPPORTED  BY  THE  ATHENI- 
ANS. 

i  THE    Egyptians,5    in    the    mean 

A.  M.  3544.     time,  to  free  themselves  from  a  for- 

Ant.  J.  C.  560.  eign  yoke,  which  was  insupportable 
to  them,  revolted  from  Artaxerxes, 
and  made  Inarus,  prince  of  the  Lybians,  their  king. 
They  called  in  to  their  assistance  the  Athenians,  who 
having  at  that  time  a  fleet  of  200  ships  at  the  island  of 
Cyprus,  accepted  the  invitation  with  pleasure,  and 
immediately  set  sail  for  Egypt;  judging  this  a  very 
favourable  opportunity  to  weaken  the  power  of  the 
Persians,  by  driving  them  out  of  so  great  a  king- 
dom. 

Advice  being  brought  Artaxerxes 
A.  M.  3545.     of  this  revolt,  he  raised  an  army  of 

Ant.  J.  C.  459.  300,000  men,  and  resolved  to  march 
in  person  against  the  rebels.  But 
hi«  friends  advising  him  not  to  venture  himself  in  that 
expedition,  he  gave  the  command  of  it  to  Achasmenes, 
one  of  his  brothers.  The  latter  being  arrived  in 
Egypt,  encamped  his  great  army  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  During  this  interval,  the  Athenians  having  de- 
feated the  Persian  fleet,  and  either  destroyed  or  taken 
fifty  of  their  ships,  went  up  that  river,  landed  their 
forces  under  the  command  of  Charitimis  their  gene- 
ral, and  having  joined  Inarus  and  his  Eg'.'ptians,  they 
charged  Achaemenes,  and  defeated  him  in  a  great  bat- 
tlr,  in  which  that  Persian  general  and  100.000  of  his 
soHiers  were  slain.  Those  who  escaped  fled  to  Mem- 
phi*,  whither  the.  conquerors  pursued  them,  and  im- 
mediately made  themselves  masters  of  two  quarters 
of  the  city:  but  the  Persians  having  fortified  them- 
selves in  the  third,  called  the  while  wall,  which  was 
the  largest  nnd  strongest  of  the  three,  they  were  be- 
aieged  in  it  near  three  years,  during  which  they  mide 
a  most  vigorous  defence,  till  they  were  at  last  delir- 
ercd  by  the  forces  sent  to  their  aid. 

i  T.il..  i.  p.  1. 

9  I)e  in*iniitibu«.  nt  ait  Thnrvdiitei.  vcrinsim*  jndicnbnt, 
et  ile  futuri*  cnllidissime  ronjirirhnt.  O>rn  ,Y«j>.  in  71k«. 
mi*l  <*.  i  *  Pint,  in  Thi>nii»t.  p.  121. 

*  TlifMnislnrlon.  film  consulproiur  otriim  Sorm   viro  pau- 
pnri.  nn  miniM  probnln  diviii  filinm  collivaret  ;   F.go  vtro  in- 
qiii',  mnlo  rirum  qui  petunia  egcnt,  quant  pccumam  gun 
wiro      Cir.   fie  Offie.  I.  ii.  c   71. 

•  TWtrd.  I   i.  p.  68,  ai'd  71,  72.     Cte«.  e.  32—35.     Diod. 
11.  u  54-59 


Artaxeixcs,  hearing  of  the  defeat 
of  his   army,   and  how    much  the  A.  M.  3548. 

Athenians  had  contributed  to  it;  in       Ant.  J.  C.  458 
order  to  make  a  diversion  of  their 
forces  and  hinder  them  from  acting  against  him,  sent 
ambassadors  to  the  Lacedaemonians,  will)  a  large  sum 
of  money,  to  engage  them  to  proclaim  war  against  the 
Athenians.     But  the  Lacedaemonians  having  rejected 
the  offer,  their  refusal  did   not  abate  his  ardour,  and 
accordingly  he  gave  Megabyzus  and 
Artabazus  the  command  of  the  for-  A    M.  3547. 

ces  destined  against  Egypt.    These      Ant.  J.  C.  457. 
generals     immediately     raised     an 
army  of  300,000  men  in  Cilicia  and  Phoenicia.     Thej 
were  obliged  to  wait  till   the  fleet 
was  equipped,  which  was  not  till  A.  M.  3548 

the  next  year.  Artabazus  then  took  Ant.  J.  C.  456 
upon  him  the  command  of  it,  end 
sailed  towards  the  Nile,  whilst  Megabyzus  at  the 
head  of  the  land  ariur,  marched  towards  Memphis 
He  raised  the  siege  of  that  city,  and  afterwards  fought 
Inarus.  All  the  forces  on  both  sides  engaged  in  this 
battle,  in  which  Inarus  was  entirely  defeated ;  but  the 
Egyptians  who  had  rebelled,  guttered  most  in  this 
slaughter. 

After  this  defeat,  Inarus,  though  wounded  by  Me- 
gabyzus, retreated  with  the  Athenians,  and  such 
Egyptians  as  were  willing  to  follow  him;  and  reached 
Byblos,  a  city  in  the  island  of  Prosopitis,  which  is 
surrounded  by  two  arms  of  the  Nile,  both  of  which 
are  navigable.  The  Athenians  ran  their  fleet  into  one 
of  these  arms,  where  it  was  secured  from  the  attacks 
of  the  enemy,  and  held  out  a  siege  of  a  year  and  a 
half  in  this  island. 

After  the  battle,  all  the  rest  of  Egypt  submitted  to 
the  conqueror,  and  was  reunited  to  the  empire  of  Ar- 
taxerxes, except  Amy rtcus,  who  had  still  a  small  part? 
in  the  fens,  where  he  long  supported  himself,  through 
the  difficulty  the  Persians  found  in  penetrating  far 
enough  to  reduce  him. 

The  siege  of  Prosopitis  was  still 

carrying  on.     The  Persians  finding  A.  M.  3550. 

that  they  made  no  progress  by  the  Ant.  J.  C.  454. 
usual  methods  of  attack,  because 
they  had  to  deal  with  persons  who  were  not  deficient 
either  in  courage  or  skill  to  defend  themselves,  had 
recourse  to»an  extraordinary  expedient,  which  soon 
produced  what  force  had  not  been  able  to  e  fleet. 
They  turned  the  course,  by  different  canals,  of  that 
arm  of  the  Nile  in  which  the  Athenians  lay,  and  by 
that  means  opened  themselves  a  passage  for  their 
whole  army  to  enter  the  island.  Inarus,  seeing  that  all 
was  lost,  capitulated  with  Megabyzus  for  himself,  fot 
ail  his  Egyptians,  and  about  fifty  Athenians,  and  sur- 
rendered upon  condition  that  their  lives  should  be 
spared.  The  remainder  of  the  auxiliary  forces,  which 
formed  a  body  of  6000  men,  resolved  to  hold  out  long- 
er; and  for  this  purpose  they  set  fire  to  their  ships,  and 
drawing  up  in  order  of  battle,  resolved  to  die  sword 
in  hand,  and  sell  their  lives  as  dear  as  they  could,  in 
imitation  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  who  refused  to 
yield,  and  were  all  cut  to  pieces  at  Thermopylae. 
The  Persians  hearing  they  had  taken  so  desperate  a 
resolution,  did  not  think  it  advisable  to  attack  them. 
A  peace  was  therefore  offered  them,  with  a  promise 
that  they  all  should  be  permitted  to  leave  Egypt,  and 
have  free  passage  to  their  native  country  either  by  sea 
or  land.  They  accepted  these  conditions,  put  the 
conquerors  in  possession  of  Byblos  and  of  the  whole 
island,  and  went  by  land  to  Cyrene,  where  they  em- 
barked for  Greece  but  most  of  the  soldiers  who  had 
served  in  this  expedition  perixhed  in  it. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  loss  the  Athenians  sus- 
tained on  this  occasion.  Another  fleet  of  fifty  ship*, 
which  they  sent  to  the  aid  of  their  besieged  country- 
men, sailed  up  one  of  the  arms  of  the  Nile  (just  after 
the  Athen'mns  had  surrendered)  to  di'sensraije  them, 
not  knowing  what  had  happened.  But  the  instant 
they  entered,  the  Persian  fleet,  which  kept  out  atsea, 
followed  them  and  attacked  their  rear,  whilst  the  army 
discharged  showers  of  darts  upon  them  from  the  banks 
of  the  river;  only  a  few  ships  escaped  which  opened 
themselves  a  way  through  the  enemy's  flee*,  and  all 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


279 


in«  rcit  were    ;st.     Thos  ended  the  fatal  war  carried 

on  by  the  Athenians  for  six  year*  in   Kgypt,  which 

kingdom  was  now  united  attain  to  the  Persian  empire. 

and  continued  so  during  the  rest  of 

A.  M.  3.550.     the  reign  of  Artaxerx«s,  of  which 

Ant.  J.  C.  45-4.     this  is  the  twentieth  year.    But  the 

prisoners  who  were   taken   in   this 

ivar  met  with  the  most  unhappy  fate. 

6F.CTIOX  V. — INARUS  IS  DELIVERED  UP  TO  THE 
KING'S  MOTHER,  CONTRARY  TO  THE  ARTICLES  OF 
THE  TREATY.  THE  AFFLICTION  OF  MEGABYZUS, 
WHO  REVOLTS 

ARTAXERXF.s,1  after  having  for 
A.  M.  3556.  five  vears  refused  to  gratify  the  re- 
Ant.  J.  C.  448.  quest  of  his  mother,  who  daily  im- 
portuned him  to  put  Inaru?  and  the 
Athenians  who  had  been  taken  with  him  into  her 
hands,  in  order  that  she  might  sacrifice  them  to  the 
manes  of  Acha>menes  her  son,  at  last  yielded  to  her 
solicitations.  But  how  blind,  how  barbarously  weak, 
must  this  kiu°:  have  been,  to  break  through  the  most 
solemn  engagements  merelv  through  complaisance; 
who  (deaf  to  remorse)  violated  the  law  of  nations, 
solely  to  avoid  offemiing  a  most  unju«t  mother.  This 
inhuman  princess,2  without  regard  to  the  faith  of  the 
treMy.  caused  Inarus  to  be  crucified,  and  beheaded 
all  the  rp«t.  Megab\zus  was  in  the  deepest  affliction 
on  that  account;  for  as  he  had  promised  that  no  in- 
jurv  should  be  done  them,  the  dishonour  reflected 
principally  on  him.  He  therefore  left  the  court,  and 
withdrew  to  Svria,  of  which  he  was  arovernor;  and  his 
discontent  wa«  so  great,  that  he  raised  an  army  and 
revolted  openly. 

The  king  sent  Osiris,  who  was 

\    M.  3557.     one   of  the    greatest   lords  of  the 

Ant.  J.  C.  447.     court,  against  him  with  an  army  of 

200,000  men.     Megahyius  engaged 

Osiris,  wounded  him,  took  him  prisoner,  and    put  his 

•  rim  to  flight.   A rtaxerxes  sending  to  demand  Osiris, 

Megab\zu<  generously  dismissed   him,  as  soon  as  his 

iroumls  w*re  cured. 

The  next  year  Artaxerxes  sent 
A.  M.  3558.     another  army  again-t  him,  the  com- 
Ant.  J.  C.  446.     tnand  of  which  he  gave  to  Menos- 
tanes,  son    to  Artarius    the   king's 
brother,  and  governor  of  Babylon.    This  general  was 
not  more  fortunate  than  the  former.    He  also  was  de- 
feated  and    put  to   flight,   and  Megabyius  gained  as 
iignal  a  virtorv  as  the  former. 

Artaxfrxe?,  finding  he  could  not  reduce  him  bv 
fu.-co  of  arm«.  sent  his  brother  Artarins  and  Amytis 
his  'ister,  who  wa*  the  wife  of  M«  gwbyziis,  with  sev- 
eral other  |K-rson«  of  the  first  quality,  to  persuade  him 
to  return  t.>  hi-  allegiance.  They  succeeded  in  their 
neg-.tinti  >n:  the  king  pardoned  him, and  he  returned 
to  court. 

One  day  as  thev  were  huntlnsr.  a  lion  raising  him- 
self on  hi*  hinder  tVet,  was  going  to  rush  upon  the 
king.  «  ht  ii  Mega'n  ins  feeing  the  dansrer  he  wa*  in, 
and  tired  with  zeal  and  affection  for  his  sovereign, 
hurled  a  dart  at  the  lion,  which  killed  him.  Rut 
Artaxerxes.  upon  pretence  that  he  had  affronted  him, 
in  darting  at  the  lion  first,  commanded  Megahyins's 
head  to  be  stuirk  off.  Amytis  the  king's  sister,  and 
Anir-itris  his  mother,  with  the  greatest  difficulty  pre- 
vailed upon  the  kin£r  to  change  his  sentence  into  per- 
petual banis'iiut  nt.  Megstnzns  wa»  therefore  sent 
to  ('yrtn,  a  city  on  the  Red  Sea.  and  condemned  to 
end  his  days  there:  however,  five  years  after,  dis- 
pni'inir  himsi  It  like  a  leper,  he  made  his  escape  and 
returned  to  Su«a.  where,  bv  the  assistance  of  his  wift- 
and  mother-in  law.  he  was  restored  to  favour,  and 
Continued  so  till  hi*  death,  which  happened  some 
year*  a!"ter.  in  the  seventy-sixth  year  of  his  age.  Me- 
pa'uiu*  \va*  evtremily  regretted  by  the  king  an''  the 
whole  court.  He  was  a  man  of  the  rreatft  abilities 
in  t'ie  kingdom,  and  at  the  same  time  the  best  general. 
Artaxerxe*  owed  both  his  crown  and  life  to  him:* 


•  <  tp«  f.  *r*v— xl.  *  Thurvd.  I.  i.  p.  72. 

•  Rrwfirin    r-fl    ii«';n<«  IfPtR    «nnt.    rtum    vMentur   i*m>lvi 

nlii  multiirn  nnipveriere,  pro  gratia  odium  redditur. 
.1*Hal.  I.  iv.  c.  16. 


but  it  is  of  dangerous  consequence  for  a  subject,  whes 
his  sovereign  is  under  too  many  obligations  to  him. 
This  wag  the  cause  of  all  the  misfortunes  of  Megaby 

ZUS. 

It  is  surprising  that  so  judicious  a  prince  as  Arta- 
xerxes should  have  been  so  imprudent,  as  to  be  fired 
with  jealousy  against  a  nobleman  of  hi»  court,  merely 
becau-e,  in  a  paity  of  hunting,  he  had  wounded  the 
beast  thev  were  pursuing  before  him!  Can  any  thing 
be  so  wehk?  And  is  this  placing  the  point  of  honour 
in  a  manner  worthy  a  king!  Nevertheless,  history 
t'lirni-tus  n«  with  many  instances  of  this  kind.  lam 
apt  to  believe,  from  some  expressions  of  I  lutarth,* 
that  Artaxerxes  was  ashamed  of  the  wild  fury  to 
which  this  false  delicacy  had  raised  him,  and  that  he 
made  some  kind  of  public  atonement  for  it:  for,  ac- 
cording to  this  author,  he  published  a  decree,  import- 
ing, that  am  man  who  was  hunting  with  the  king, 
should  be  allowed  to  throw  his  javelin  first  at  the 
beast,  if  opportunity  should  offer;  and  he,  according 
to  Plutarch,  was  the  first  Persian  monarch  who  grant- 
ed such  a  permission. 

SECTION    VI.— ARTAXERXES    SENDS     EZRA,    AND 
AFTERWARDS  .\EHEMIAH,  TO  JERUSALEM. 

BEFORE  1  proceed  in  the  history  of  the  Persian* 
and  Greeks,  I  shall  relate,  in  few  words,  what  event* 
happened  among  the  people  of  God,  during  the  first 
twenty  years  of  Artaxerxes,  which  is  an  essential  part 
of  the  historv  of  that  prince. 

In  the  seventh  vtar  of  the   reign 

of  Artaxerxes,5  F.zra  obtained  of  tne  A.  M.  3537. 

king  and  his  seven  counsellors,  an  Ant.  J.  C.  467. 
ample  commission,  empowering 
him  to  return  to  Jerusalem  with  all  such  Jews  u 
would  follow  him  thither,  in  order  to  re-establish  the 
Jewish  government  and  religion,  and  to  regulate  both 
agreeably  to  their  own  laws.  Ezra  was  descended 
from  Saraia,  who  was  high-priest  of  Jerusalem,  at  the 
time  when  it  was  destroyed  by  Nabuchodonosor,  and 
was  put  to  death  by  his  command.  Ezra  was  a  very 
learned  and  pious  man,  and  was  chiefly  distinguished 
from  the  rest  of  the  Jews,  by  his  great  knowledge  in 
the  Scriptures;  on  account  of  which  it  is  said  of  him, 
"  That  he  was  very  ready  in  the  law  of  Moses  that 
was  given  by  the  God  of  Israel.''6  He  set  out  from 
Babvlon  with  the  gifts  and  offerings  which  the  king, 
his  courtiers,  and  such  Israelites  as  had  stayed  in  Ba- 
hilon,  had  put  into  his  hands  for  the  service  of  the 
temple,  and  which  he  gave  to  the  priests  upon  hi* 
arrival  at  Jerusalem.  It  appears  by  the  commission 
which  Artaxerxes  gave  him,  that  this  prince  had  a  high 
veneration  for  the  God  of  Israel,  as.  in  commanding 
his  officers  to  furnish  the  Jews  with  all  things  neces- 
sary for  their  worship,  he.  adds,  •'  Let  all  things  be 
performed  after  the  law  of  God  diligently,  unto  the 
most  high  God,  that  wratn  come  not  upon  the  king- 
dom of  the  king  and  his  son."7  This  commission,  a» 
I  observed,  empowered  him  to  settle  the  religion  and 
government  of  the  Jews,  pursuant  to  the  law  of  Mo- 
ses; to  appoint  magistrates  and  judges  to  punish  evil- 
doer?, not  only  by  imprisoning  their  persons  and  con- 
fiscating their  possessions,  but  also  by  sending  them 
into  banishment,  and  even  sentencing  them  to  death, 
according  to  the  crimes  they  should 
commit.  Such  was  the  power  witn  A.  M.  3550. 

which  F.zra  was  invested,  and  which      Ant.  J.  C.  454. 
he  exercised  faithfully  during  thir- 
teen years,  till  Nehemiah  brought  a  new  commission 
from  the  Persian  court. 

Nehemiah  was  also  a  Jew,8  of  distinguished  merit 
and  piety,  and  one  of  the  cup-bearers  to  king  Arta- 
xerxes. This  was  a  very  considerable  eiiipl»\  iii-  nt 
in  the  Persian  court,  because  of  the  privilege  annexed 
to  it,  of  bfing  often  near  the  king's  person,  and  of  lie- 
ing  allowed  to  speak  to  him  in  the  most  favourable 
moments.  However,  neither  this  exalted  station,  nor 
the  settlement  of  his  family  in  that  land  of  captivity, 
could  obliterate  from  his  mind  the  country  of  his  1 1- 
cestors.  nor  their  religion:  neither  his  love  for  the  one. 


*  Plut.  in  Apophthegm,  p.  173. 

•  ]  Esdrm,  riii.  3.  '  It..  22. 


•  Kzra,  »ii,  tc 
•  Nehem.  i.  and  it 


280 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


nor  his  zeal  for  the  other,  was  abated ;  and  his  heart 
was  «till  in  Zion.  Some  Jews  who  were  come  t'roni 
Jerusalem  having  informed  him  of  the  sad  state  of  that 
city,  that  its  walls  lay  in  ruin,  its  gates  were  burnt 
down,  and  the  inhabitants  thereby  exposed  to  the  in- 
sults of  their  enemies  and  the  scorn  of  their  neigh- 
bours; the  affliction  of  his  brethren,  and  the  dangers 
with  which  they  were  menaced,  made  such  an  im- 
pression on  his  mind,  as  might  naturally  be  expected 
from  one  of  his  piety.  One  day  as  he  was  waiting 
upon  the  king,  the  latter  observing  an  unusual  air  of 
melancholy  in  Nehemiah's  countenance,  asked  him 
the  cause  of  it;  a  proof  that  this  monarch  had  a  ten- 
derness of  heart  rarely  found  in  those  of  his  high  rank, 
which  nevertheless  is  much  more  valuable  than  the 
most  shining  qualities.  Nehemiah  took  this  opportu- 
nity to  acquaint  him  with  the  calamitous  state  of  his 
country;  owned  that  to  be  the  subject  of  his  grief; 
and  humbly  entreated  that  leave  might  be  giveii  him 
to  go  to  Jerusalem,  in  order  to  repair  the  fortifications 
of  it.  The  kings  of  Persia  his  predecessors  had  per- 
mitted the  Jews  to  rebuild  the  temple,  but  not  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem.  But  Artaxerxes  immediately 
caused  a  decree  to  be  drawn  up,  that  the  walls  and 
gates  of  Jerusalem  should  be  rebuilt;  and  Nehemiah, 
as  governor  of  Judea,  was  appointed  to  put  this  de- 
cree in  execution.  The  king,  to  do  him  the  greater 
honour,  ordered  a  body  of  horse,  commanded  bv  an 
officer  of  distinction,  to  escort  him  thither.  He  like- 
wise writ  to  all  the  governors  of  the  provinces  on  this 
side  the  Euphrates,  to  give  him  all  the  assistance  pos- 
sible in  forwarding  the  work  for  which  he  was  sent. 
This  pious  Jew  executed  every  part  of  his  commission 
with  incredible  zeal  and  activity. 

It  is  from  ttiis  decree,1  enacted  by  Artaxerxes  in 
the  twentieth  year  of  his  reigrt,  for  the  rebuilding  of 
the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  that  we  date  the  beginning  of 
the  seventy  weeks  mentioned  in  the  famous  prophecy 
of  Daniel,  after  which  the  Messiah  was  to  appear,  and 
to  be  put  to  death.  I  shall  here  insert  the  whole 
prophecy,  but  without  giving  the  explication  of  it, 
as  it  may  be  found  in  other  writers,  and  is  not  a  part 
of  this  history. 

"  Thou  art  greatly  beloved,  therefore  understand 
the  matter,  and  consider  the  vision.8  Seventy  weeks 
are  determined  upon  thy  people,  and  upon  thy  holy 
city,  to  finish  the  transgression,  and  to  make  an  end 
of  sins,  and  to  make  reconciliation  for  iniquity,  and  to 
bring  in  everlasting  righteousness,  and  to  seal  up  the 
vision  and  prophecy,  and  to  anoint  the  Most  Holy. 
Know  therefore  and"  understand,  that  from  the  gmner 
forth  of  the  commandment  to  restore  and  to  build 
Jerusalem,  unto  the  Messiah  the  Prince,  shall  be  se- 
ren  weeks,  and  threescore  and  two  weeks;  the  street 
shall  be  built  again,  and  the  wall,  even  in  troublous 
times.  And  after  threescore  and  two  weeks  shall 
Messiah  be  cut  off,  hut  not  for  himself:  and  the  peo- 
ple of  the  prince  that  shall  come,  shall  destroy  the 
rity  and  the  sanctuary,  and  the  end  thereof  shall  be 
with  a  Rood:  and  unto  the  end  of  the  war  desolations 
are  determined.  And  he  shall  confirm  the  covenant 
with  many  for  one  week;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
week  he  shall  cause  the  sacrifice  and  the  oblation  to 
rease;  and  for  the  overspreading  of  abominations  he 
thnll  make  it  desolate,  even  until  the  consummation, 
nnd  that  determined  shall  be  poured  upon  the  deso- 
late." 

When  Ezra  was  in  power,'  a«  his  chief  view  was 
to  restore  religion  to  its  ancient  purity,  he  arranged 
the  books  of  Scripture  in  their  proper  order,  revised 
them  all  very  carefully,  and  collected  the  ancient  doc- 
uments relating  to  the  people  of  God,  in  order  to 
Compose,  out  of  them  the  two  hooks  of  Chronicles,  to 
which  he  added  the  history  of  his  own  times,  which 
was  finished  by  Nehemiah.  With  their  books  ends 
the  long  history  which  Moses  had  begun,  and  which 
the  writers  who  came  after  him  continued  in  a  regular 
serifs,  till  the  repairing  of  Jerusalem.  The  rest  of 
the  sacred  history  it  not  written  in  that  uninterrupted 
order.  Whilst  F.rra  and  Nehemiah  were  compiling 

•  Ran.  i*.  23-27  »  Ibid. 

*  IhitFuet'E  Universal  Hutory. 


the  latter  part  of  that  grent  work,  Herodotus  rrnoni 
profane  authors  call  trie  father  of  history,  began  to 
write.  Thus  we  find  that  the  latest  authors  of  the 
books  of  Scripture  flourished  about  the  same  lime 
with  the  first  author  of  the  Grecian  history  ;  and  when 
it  began,  that  of  God's  people,  to  compute  only  from 
Abraham,  included  already  fifteen  centuries.  Hero- 
dotus makes  no  mention  of  the  Jews  in  his  history  ;  for 
the  Greeks  desired  to  be  informed  of  such  nations  only 
as  were  famous  for  their  wars,  their  commerce,  and 
grandeur;  so  that  as  Judea  was  then  but  just  rising 
from  its  ruins,  it  did  not  excite  the  attention  of  that 
people. 

SECTION  VII.— CHARACTER  OF  PERICLES.  TH« 
METHODS  EMPLOYED  HY  HIM  TO  GAIN  THE  AF- 
FECTION OF  THE  PEOPIJC. 

I  NOW  return  to  Greece.  Since  the  banishment  of 
Themistocles,  and  the  death  of  Aristides  (the  exact 
time  of  which  is  not  known,)  two  citizens,  Cimon  and 
Pericles,  divided  all  influence  and  authority  in  Athens. 
Pericles  was  much  younger  than  Cimon,  and  of  a  quite 
different  character.  As  he  will  make  a  very  consid- 
erable figure  in  the  following  history,  it  is  of  impor- 
tance to  the  reader  to  know  who  he  was,  in  what 
manner  he  had  been  educated,  and  his  scheme  ana 
method  of  go\  eminent. 

Pericles  descended,*  by  the  mother's  as  well  a* 
father's  side,  from  the  greatest  and  most  illustrious 
families  of  Athens.  His  father  Xanthippus,  who  de- 
feated at  Mvcale  the  king  of  Persia's  lieutenants, 
married  Agarista,  niece  to  Clisthenes,  who  expelled 
the  Pisistratidae,  or  descendants  of  Pisistratus  the  ty- 
rant, and  established  a  popular  government  at  Athens. 
Pericles  had  long  prepared  himself  for  the  design  he 
had  formed  of  engaging  in  state  afiairs. 

He  was  brought  up  under  the  most  learned  men  of 
his  age,  and  particularly  Anaxagoras  of  Claiomene. 
surnamed  the  Intelligence,  from  his  being  the  first,  a» 
we  are  told,  who  ascribed  human  events,  as  well  ag 
the  formation  and  government  of  the  universe,  not  to 
chance,  as  some  philosophers,  nor  to  a  fatal  nert  >sily, 
but  to  a  superior  Intelligence,  who  disposed  and  gov- 
erned all  things  with  wisdom.  This  tenet  or  opir.ion 
subsisted  long  before  his  time;  but  he  perhaps  set  i* 
in  a  stronger  light  than  nil  others  had  done,  and  taught 
it  methodically  and  from  principles.  Anaxagoras 
thoroughly  instructed  his  pupil  in  that  part  of  philos- 
ophy which  relates  to  nature,  and  which  is  therefore 
called  physics.5  This  study  gave  him  a  strength  and 
greatness  of  soul,  which  raised  him  above  an  infinite 
number  of  vulgar  prejudices  and  vain  practices  gene- 
rally observed  in  his  time:  which,  in  afiairs  of  state 
and  military  enterprises,  often  disconcerted  the  wisest 
and  most  necessary  measures,  or  defeated  them  by 
scrupulous  delays,  authorized  and  covered  with  the 
specious  veil  of  religion.  These  were  sometime* 
dreams  or  auguries,  at  other  times  dreadful  pheno.ne- 
na,  as  eclipses  of  the  sun  or  moon,  or  else  omen*  and 
presages;  not  to  mention  the  wild  chimeras  of  judi 
ciary  astrology.  The  knowledge  of  nature,  free  from 
the  grovelling  and  wenk  superstition  to  which  igno- 
rance gives  birth,  inspired  him,  savs  Plutarch,  with  » 
well-grounded  piety  towards  the  gods,  attended  with 
a  strength  of  mind  that  was  immoveahle,  and  a  calm 
hope  of  the  blessings  to  be'  expecteel  from  them.  Al- 
though he  found  infinite  charms  in  this  stuely,  he  did 
not  however  devote  himself  to  it  as  a  philosopher,  but 
a«  a  statesman:  and  he  had  so  much  power  over  him* 
self  (a  very  difficult  thing)  as  to  prescribe  to  himself 
limits  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge. 

But  the  talent  which  he  cultivated  with  the  greatest 
care,  because  he  looked  upon  it  us  the  most  necessary 
instrument  of  hll  to  those  who  are  desirous  of  con- 
ducting and  governing  the  people,  was  eloquence. 
And  indeed,  those  who  possessed  this  talent,  in  a  fre* 
state  like  that  of  Athens,  were  sure,  of  reigning  in  the 


4  Plut.  in  vit.  Pprirl.  p.  153—156. 

•  The  nnrirntu,  under  this  name,  romprpnrnilpri  what  w» 
call  phycirs  niu]  nietnplivirs  :  the  latter  of  which  im|i!i»'« 
the  knowledge  of  *piriitial  things,  as  God  and  spirits;  and 
the  former,  that  of  bodic*. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


281 


assemblies,  engrossing  suffrages,  determining-  affairs, 
•nd  exercising  a  kind  of  absolute  power  over  the  hearts 
and  minds  ol  the  people.  He  therefore  made  this  his 
Chief  object,  and  the  mark  to  which  all  his  other  im- 
provements, as  well  as  whatsoever  he  had  learnt  from 
Anaxagoras,  were  directed  ;'  suffusing,  to  borrow  Plu- 
turcliV  expression,  over  the  study  of  philosophy  the 
die  <it  rhetoric;  the  meaning  of  which  is.  that  Peri- 
rfes,  to  emb.-llish  and  adorn  his  discourse,  heightened 
the  strength  and  solidity  of  reasoning  with  the  col- 
ouring nnd  graces  of  eloquence. 

He  had  no  cause  to  repent  his  having  bestowed  s,o 
much  tune  on  this  study,  for  his  success  far  exceeded 
his  utmost  hopes.  The  poets,*  his  contemporaries, 
used  to  s:iy,  that  he  lightened,  thundered,  and  agita- 
ted nil  Greece;  so  powerful  was  his  eloquence.  It 
had  those  piercing  and  lively  strokes,*  that  reach  the 
inir.ost  soul;  and  his  discourse  left  aiwavs  an  irresis- 
tible incentive,  a  kind  of  spur,  behind  it  in  the  minds 
of  his  auditors.  He  had  the  art  of  uniting  !>.  a.,tv 
with  strength;  and  Crcero  observes,  that  at  ihe  very 
time  he  opposed,  with  the  greatest  tenaciousness,  the 
inclinations  and  desires  of  the  Athenian*,  he  had  the 
art  to  nuke  even  severity  itself,  and  the  kind  of  harsh- 
ness with  which  he  «pcke  against  the  flatterers  of  the 
people,  popular.  There  was  no  resisting  the  solidity 
of  his  arguments,  or  the  sweetness  of  his  words; 
whence  it  was  said,  that  the  goddess  of  persuasion, 
witli  all  her  graces,  resided  on  his  lips.  And  indeed, 
as  Thucydides,*  his  rival,  and  adversary,  was  one  day- 
asked,  whether  he  or  Pericles  was  the  best  wrestler: 
"  Whenever,1'  says  he,  "  I  have  given  him  a  fall,  he 
affirms  the  contrary,  in  such  strong  and  forcible  terms, 
that  he  persua-les  all  the  spectators  that  I  did  not 
throw  him,  though  they  themselves  saw  him  on  the 
ground."  Nor  was  he  less  prudent  and  reserved 
than  strong  and  vehement  in  his  speeches;  and  it  is 
related  that  he  never  spoke  in  public,  till  after  he 
harl  besiu:>ht  the  gods  not  to  suffer  any  expression 
to  drop  from  him,  either  incongruous  to  his  subject, 
or  offensive  to  the  people.  Whenever  he  was  to  ap- 
pear in  the  assembly.*  before  he  came  out  of  his 
DUMM  he  used  to  say  to  himself;  "  Remember,  Peri- 
cles that  thou  art  going  to  speak  to  men  born  in  the 
ariix  of  liberty ;  to  Greeks,  to  Athenians." 

The  uncommon  endeavour*  which  Pericles,  ac- 
ror  iin<r  to  historians,  used  in  order  to  improve  his 
wind  by  the  study  of  the  sciences,  and  to  attain  to  a 
perfection  in  eloquence,  are  an  excellent  lesson  to 
such  persons  as  are  one  day  to  fill  the  important  of- 
bces  of  state;  and  a  just  censure  of  those,6  who,  disre- 
garding whatever  is  called  study  and  learning,  bring 
into  tho*e  rmplovments  (upon  which  they  enter  with- 
out knowledge  or  experience.)  nothing  but  a  ridicu- 
lous self  -sufficiency,  and  a  rash  boldness  in  deciding. 
Plutarch,7  in  a  treatise  where  he  shows,  that  it  is  to 
statesmen  that  a  philosopher  oueht  chiefly  to  attach 
himself  preferably  to  any  other  class  of  men  (because 
in  instrui-tinj  them,  he  at  the  same  time  teaches 
whole  cities  and  republics,)  verifies  his  assertion  from 
the  example  of  the  greatest  men  both  of  Greece  and 
It«l  v ,  who  derived  this  help  from  philosophy.  Pericles. 
of  whom  we  now  write,  was  taught  by  Anaxasroras: 
Dnn  of  Syracuse  bv  Plato;  many  princes  of  Italy  bv 
Pythagoras;  Cato.  ihe  famous  censor,  travelled  to  the 
plsce  where  Athenodorns  lived,  for  the  same  pur- 
pose; and  lastly,  the  famous  Scipio,  the  destroyer  of 


•  Ah    Aristnpbane    pools   fnliurare,    tonarc.    permiscere 
Griertnm  dirttispst.     Ctc.  in  Oral,  n   29. 

•  (inid  Pprirlp«*     D<»  ruju«  dirvndi  copia  »ir  acrrpimu«, 
Ut,  rum    ronim  voluntatpm   Alhfiiionsium    l<X)u<*rptur  pro 
saint"   mtri.T.  spvpriti«  Union    id   ipsum.  quod    ille   nmtrn 
popular"?  li.-imiws    dir-crct.  popnlnrR  i.mnihun  Pt  jurundum 
YidiTP'nr :    rujm  in  Inbris    vctorm    comiri— Inporfm  habi- 
tn«f*  dixprunt :  tantarnque  vim  in   eo  fni!«*p.  u(    in  porum 
m»nlibu«.  ciiii  nuHie-t>nt.  quasi  aculeos  quosdam  relinqueret. 
Cie.  lib   iii    4r  Oral   n.  133. 

«  Vot  tlir  historian. 

•  Plut    in  3vmp.  lib.  I.  p.  620. 

•  Wiinc  ronira   |ilfri<|iip  ad    honores  adini«*"Titli«.  et   id 
fen-.p.  L»TP'i.I.-im.  nudi  vpniuut  Pt   inorm-'s.  nulla  cojr.itioce 
rerum.  nulla  <"-i>>mia  ornati.     Cre.  lib   iii.  de  OrM   n   130. 

'   Pint    p.  7'7 

VOL.  \.-3f 


Carthage,  always  kept  Pancetius  the  philosopher  nea* 
his  person. 

One  of  the  chief  endeavours  of  Pericles  also  was, 
to  study  thoroughly  the  genius  and  disposition  of  the 
Athenians,  thai  he  might  discover  the  secret  springs 
which  were  to  be  employed  in  order  to  set  them  in 
motion,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  was  proper  to  act 
for  acquiring  their  confidence;  for  it  was  in  that  prin- 
cipalli  that  the  great  men  among  the  ancients  used  to 
make  their  skill  and  politics  consist.8  Me  found  br 
the  reflections  he  had  made  on  the  several  transac- 
tions of  iiis  time,  that  the  predominant  passions  ot 
this  people  were,  a  violent  aversion  to  tvrannv,  and  a 
strong  love  of  liberty,  which  inspired  them  with  sen- 
timents of  fear,  jealousy,  and  suspicion,  of  ali  mod 
citizens  as  were  too  conspicuous  for  their  birth,  their 
personal  merit,  their  own  credit  and  authority,  or  that 
of  their  friends.  He  not  onli  was  very  like  I'i-Utra 
tus,  with  regard  to  the  sweetness  of  his  voice  and  the 
fluency  of  expression,  but  he  also  resembled  him 
it  rv  much  in  the  features  of  his  face,  and  his  whole 
air  and  manner;  and  he  observed  that  the  oldest  of 
the  Athenians  who  had  seen  the  tyrant,  were  prodi- 
giously struck  at  the  resemblance.  Besides,  he  was 
very  rich,  was  descended  from  an  illustrious  family, 
and  had  very  powerful  friends.  To  prevent,  therefore, 
his  being  obnoxious  to  the  suspicion  and  jealousy  of 
the  people,  he  at  first  shunned  public  business,  which 
required  a  constant  attendance  in  the  city;  and  was 
solely  intent  upon  distinguishing  himself  in  war  and 
dangers. 

But  when  he  saw  Aristides  dead,  Themistocles 
banished,  and  Cimon  engaged  almost  continually  in 
foreign  wars,  and  absent  from  Greece;  he  Iwgan  to 
apiieur  in  public  with  greater  confidence  than  before, 
and  entirety  devoted  himself  to  the  party  of  the  peo- 
ple, but  not  out  of  inclination,  for  he  was  far  from  af- 
fecting popular  power,  but  to  remove  all  suspicions 
of  his  aspiring  to  the  tyranny,  and  still  more,  to  raise 
a  strong  bulwark  against  the  influence  and  authority 
of  Cimon,  who  had  joined  with  the  nobles. 

At  the  same  time,  he  quite  changed  hi*  conduct, 
and  way  of  life;  and  assumed, in  nil  things,  the  chtr?.«»- 
ter  of  a  statesman,  wholly  busied  in  affair;  of  govern- 
ment, and  entirely  devoted  to  the  service  of  his  coun- 
try. He  was  never  seen  in  the  streets,  except  when 
he  was  goins:  either  to  the  assembly  of  the  people, or 
to  the  council.  He  on  a  sudden  left  off  going  to  ban- 
quets, assemblies,  and  o'.lier  diversions  of  that  kind, 
which  he  had  u«ed  to  frequent;  and  during  the  many 
years  that  he  presided  in  the  administration,  he  was 
never  seen  to  go  to  supper  with  his  friends,  except 
once  at  the  nuptials  of  a  near  relation. 

He  knew  that  the  people,'  who  are  naturally  fickle 
and  inconstant,10  commonly  disregard  those  who  are 
always  in  their  si^-ht;  and  that  too  strong  a  desire  to 
please  them,  grows  z.t  last  tiresome  and  importunate; 
and  it  was  obseived  that  such  a  behaviour  was  very 
prejudicial  to  Tliem'utocies.  To  avoid  this  error,  he 
used  to  go  very  rarely  to  the  assemblies;  and  never 
appeared  before  the  public  but  at  intervals,  in  order 
to  make  himsdl'desireo*;  and  to  preserve  such  an  as- 
cendant over  their  minds  as  might  be  alxvavs  new, 
and  not  worn  and  in  a  manner  withered  by  an  over- 
•rreat  BssHuity :  wisely  reserving  himself  for  great  and 
important  occnsions.  Hence  it  was  said  that  he  imi- 
tated Jupiter."  who,  in  the  government  of  the  world, 
according  to  some  philosophe-s, busied  himself  in  great 
events  alone;  and  left  the  direction  of  those  of  less 
importance  to  subaltern  deities.  And  indeed.  Pericles 
used  to  transact  a'l  petty  affairs  by  his  friends,  and 
by  certain  orators  th»t  were  entirely  devoted  to  him, 
among  whom  was  Ephiallen. 

Pericles  employed  his  whole  industry  and  applica- 


•  Olim  nosrenda  vulfi  natura.  et  quibui  modi*  tcmppraiv 
ter  habprptur:  Rpnalii«<iue  et  optimatium   inypnia  ijui  mn*. 
im#  aerdkliaerUBt,  rnllidi  lempnrum  et  iwpieate*  Imliebantur 
TVeif.  Jlnital.  lib    iv   rnp.  33. 

•  Plut.  de  «ui  laudp,  p.  441. 

"  Ista  iinmra  n««i«iui'as.  Sorvi.  nencif  quantum  intrnlnn 
t  hnminibu*  fastidii.  quantum  raiietaliii — Utrique  no* 
dcsiilpriwm  niliil  profuisset.  Ctc.  fro  Mur.  u  2L 

»  Plut.  deger.  rep.  p.  811. 

y  2 


282 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


lion  tc  gain  the  favour  and  esteem  of  the  people,'  in 
order  to  counterbalance  the  fame  and  influence  of 
Cinion.  However,  he  could  not  equal  the  magnifi- 
cence and  liberality  of  his  rival,  whose  immense  riches 
gave  him  an  opportunity  of  bestowing  such  largesses 
as  appear  to  us  almo«t  incredible,  so  much  do  they 
differ  fr..m  our  customs  in  that  respect  Finding  ft 
impossible  for  him  to  rival  Cimon  in  this  particular, 
he  had  recourse  to  another  expedient  (in  order  to  gain 
the  love  of  the  populace,)  no  less  effectual  perhaps, 
but  certainly  not  so  legitimate  and  honourable.  He 
was  the  lirst  who  caused  the  conquered  lands  to  be 
divided  among  the  citizens;  who  distributed  among 
them  the  public  revenues  for  the  expense  of  their 
games  and  shows,  and  annexed  pensions  to  all  public 
employments;  so  that  certain  sums  were  bestowed  on 
them  regularly,  as  well  to  procure  them  a  place  at  the 
games,  as  for  their  attendance  in  the  court!  of  justice, 
and  the  public  assemblies.  It  is  impossible  to  say 
how  fatal  this  unhappy  policy  was  to  the  repoblic,  and 
how  many  evils  it  drew  after  it.  For  these  new  regu- 
lations, besides  draining  the  public  treasury,  gave  the 
people  a  fondness  for  expense  and  a  dissolute  turn  of 
mind;  whereas  they  before  were  sober  and  modest, 
and  contented  themselves  with  getting  a  livelihood 
by  their  sweat  and  labour. 

By  such  arts  as  these  Pericles  had  gained  so  great 
an  ascendant  over  the  minds  of  the  people,2  that  he 
may  be  said  to  have  attained  a  monarchical  power 
under  a  republican  form  of  government;  moulding  the 
citizens  into  what  shape  he  pleased,  and  presiding 
with  unlimited  authority  in  all  their  assemblies.  And 
indeed,  Valerius  Maximus  makes  scarce  any  other 
difference,  between  Pisistratus  and  Pericles,  th'an  that 
the  one  exercised  a  tyrannical  power  by  force  of 
arms,  and  the  other  by  the  strength  of  his  eloquence, 
in  which  he  made  a  very  great  progress  under  Anax- 
agoras. 

This  credit  and  authority,  enormous  as  it  was, 
could  not  yet  restrain  the  comic  writers  from  throw- 
ing out  against  him  many  very  severe  strokes  of  satire 
in  the  theatres;  and  it  does  not  appear  that  any  of  the 
poets  who  censured  Pericles  with  so  much  boldness, 
were  ever  punished,  or  even  called  to  account  for  it 
bv  the  people.  Perhaps  it  was  through  prudence  and 
policy  that  he  did  not  attempt  to  curb  this  licentious- 
ness of  the  stage,  nor  to  silence  the  poets;  that  he 
might  amuse  and  content  the  people  by  this  vain  sha- 
dow of  liberty,  and  prevent  their  discovering  that  they 
really  were  enslaved. 

Pericles,3  the  more  to  strengthen  his  own  influence, 
engaged  in  a  design  no  less  hazardous  than  bold.  He 
resolved  to  weaken  the  authority  of  the  tribunal  of 
the  Areopagus,  of  which  he  was  not  a  member,  be- 
cause he  had  never  been  elected  either  Archon,* 
Thesmotheta,  king  of  the  sacrifices,  nor  Polemarch. 
These  were  different  employments  in  the  republic, 
which  from  time  immemorial  had  been  given  bv  lot; 
and  none  but  those  who  had  behaved  uprightly  in 
them,  were  allowed  a  seat  in  the  Areopagus.  Peri- 
cle«,  taking  advantage  of  Cimon's  absence,  set  Ephi- 
alte«,  who  was  his  creature,  at  work  clandestinely; 
and  at  last  succeeded  in  les«eninz  the  power  of  .that 
illustrious  body,  in  which  the  chief  strength  of  the 
nobility  consisted.  The  people,  emboldened  and  sup- 
ported by  so  powerful  a  faction,  subverted  all  the 
fundamental  laws  and  ancient  customs;  took  from  the 
senate  of  the  Areopagus  the  cognizance  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  causes  that  used  to  be  brought  before  it. 

t   Pint,  in   Pericl.  p.  156. 

*  Periclen  felirissimu*  nature  increments,  *ub  Anaxnro- 
ru  prjpcrptore  summo  (tudio  perpolitus  et  instructus.  libe- 
ris  Athenarum  cerriribu*  jueum  servituti*  imposuit  :  e?it 
••him  ille  urlwm  et  vermvit  arhitrio  sun— Quid  inter  Pisis- 
tratnm  ct  P.-riHfm  interfuit,  nisi  quod  ille  armatus,  hie  sine 
I.rmi«tyrannidem  exercuit  ?  Vol.  Mat  1  viii.  c.  9. 

I  Plut.  in  P.'rii-l    p    157.     In  Cim.  p.  <<««. 

After  some  changes  had  been  made  in  the  form  of  the 
Athenian  government,  the  supreme  authority  was  at  last 
invented  in  nine  magi«trates.  called  archons,  and  lasted  but 
oh.--  year.  One  was  called  Rex.  another  PnlemarchuR,  a  third 
Archon.and  thi.«  magistrate  was  properly  at  Ihe  head  of  the 
lent,  and  eave  hi»  name  to  the  yar;  and  six  The«motheta?, 
Who  presided  immediately  orer  the  laws  and  decree*. 


leaving  it  very  few,  ant!  such  only  as  were  of  little 
consequence,  and  made  themselves  absolute  master* 
of  all  the  tribunals. 

Cimon  on  his  return  to  Athens,  was  afflicted  to  see 
the.  dignity  of  the  senate  trampled  under  loot,  and 
therefore  set  every  engine  to  work  to  restore  it  to  its 
pristine  authority,  and  to  revive  the  aristocr-icy,  in  the 
same  form  as  it  had  been  established  under  Clistlit-nes. 
Hut  now  his  enemies  began  to  exclaim  and  excite  the 
people  against  him;  reproaching  him,  among  many 
other  things,  for  his  strong  attachment  to  the  Lace- 
dnemomans.  Cimon  had  himself  given  some  room 
for  this  reproach,  by  his  not  paying  sufficient  regrrd 
to  the  Athenian  delicacy :  for,  in  speaking  to  them, 
he  would  for  ever  extol  Laceda?monia ;  and  whenever 
he  censured  their  conduct  on  any  occasion,  he  used  to 
cry.  The  Spartans  do  not  act  in  this  manner.  Si-cli 
expressions  as  these  drew  upon  him  the  envy  and  ha- 
tred of  his  fellow-citizens;  but  an  event,  in  which  he 
nevertheless  had  no  share,  made  him  the  object  of 
their  utmost  detestation. 

SECTION    VIII. — AN    EARTHQUAKE     IN     SPARTA. 
INSURRECTION  OF   THE  HELOTS.      SEEDS  OF  DIVI- 
SION BETWEEN  THE  ATHENIANS   AND   SPARTANS. 
CIMON  IS  SENT  INTO  BANISHMENT. 
IN  the  fourth  year  of  the  reign  of 
Archidamus,*  there  happened   the  A.  M.  3534. 

most  dreadful  earthquake  in  Sparta  Ant.  J.  C.  470. 
that  had  ever  been  known.  In  se- 
veral places  the  country  was  entirely  swallowed  up; 
Taygetus  and  other  mountains  were  shaken  to  their 
foundations;  many  of  their  summits  being  torn  away, 
came  tumbling  down;  and  the  whole  city  was  laid  in 
ruins,  five  houses  only  excepted.  To  heighten  the 
calamity,  the  Helots,6  who  were  slaves  to  the  Lace- 
dsmonians,  looking  upon  this  as  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity to  recover  their  liberty,  flew  up  and  down  ev- 
ery part  of  the  city,  to  murder  such  as  had  escaped 
the  earthquake:  but  finding  them  under  arms,  and 
drawn  up  in  order  of  battle,  by  the  prudent  foresight 
of  Archidamus,  who  had  assembled  them  around  him, 
they  retired  into  the  neighbouring  cities,  and  com- 
menced that  very  day  open  war,  having  entered  into 
alliance  with  several  of  the  neighbouring  nation*,  ar>d 
being  strengthened  by  the  Messenians,  who  at  that 
time  were  engaged  in  a  war  with  the  Spartans. 

The  Lacedaemonians  in  this  extremity  sent  to 
Athens  to  implore  succours;  but  this  was  opposed  by 
Ephialtes,  who  declared  that  it  would  be  no  way  ad- 
visable to  assist  them,  nor  to  rebuild1  a  city  that  was 
the  rival  of  Athens,  which,  he  said,  ought  to  be  left 
in  its  ruins,  and  the  pride  of  Sparta  thereby  humbled 
for  ever.  But  Cimon  being  struck  with  horror  at 
these  politics,  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  prefer  the 
welfare  of  the  Lacedaemonians  to  the  aggrandizing 
of  his  country;  declaring,  in  the  strongest  terms,  that 
it  was  absolutely  improper  "  to  leave  Greece  lame  of 
one  of  its  legs,  and  Athens  without  a  countet poise:" 
the  people  came  into  his  opinion,  and  accordingly  a 
succour  was  voted.  Sparta  and  Athens  might  in- 
deed be  considered  as  the  two  limbs  on  which  Greece 
stood;  so  that  if  one  of  them  was  destroyed,  Greece 
would  inevitably  be  crippled.  '  It  is  also  certain,  that 
the  Athenians  were  so  elate  with  their  grandeur,  and 
were  become  so  proud  and  enterprising,  that  they 
wanted  a  curb  to  check  their  impetuosity;  and  none 
was  so  proper  as  Sparta,  that  state  being  the  only  one 


•  Plot,  in  Cim.  p.  4«->.  480. 

•  These  were  HO  denominated  from  Helos,  a  city  of  T^a- 
ronia.  ruined  by  the  S|>artan8.     This  rity  was  said  to  have 
hf-i'ii  founded  hy  one  HeliuK.  the  ran  of  Peraeus;  and  had  a 
worse  fate  than  any  or  her  of  the  cities  in  Laronia.  subdued 
by  the   Spartan".     Flavin"   refused   to   pay  the   tribute  im- 
posed on  them  by  Apis,  the   third  king  of  the  Hrrackda-an 
MM,  the  Laceda?moninns  fell  on  tlip-n  with  an  army,  louk 
them  prisoners:  rndnced  them  to  the  lowest  and  mo*t  mise- 
rable shvi-rv  ;  and  to  complete  all,   made  a  law,  forbidding 
their  masters  either  to  give  them  their  liberty,  or  to  *•  II  'hrm 
into  other  countries.     A»  a  greater  mart  of  infamy  still,  all 
the  other  slaves  belonging  lo  thegtafe  were  called  from  them 
Ifelott.  in  the  same  m«nner  a«  the  word  ulav-  .  >'   u*-d  now 
in   modern  Europe,  from  the  Slav!  or  Slavor.-srj  u,wu  »octo 
another  occasion. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


283 


that  was  capable  of  being  a  counterpoise  to  the  head- 
•trong  disposition  of  the  Athenian?.  Ciiuon  there- 
fore marched  to  the  aid  of  the  Lacedaemonians  with 
4000  men. 

We  have  here  an  example  of  the  powerful  influ- 
ence which  a  man  of  fine  talents  and  abilities  has  in 
a  state,  when  a  great  fund  of  merit  is  united  in  his 
person  with  a  well-established  reputation  for  probity, 
disinterestedness,  and  zeal  for  the  good  of  his  coun- 
try. Cimon,  with  very  little  difficulty,  succeeds  in 
IBSpinnj  the  Athenians  with  noble  and  magnanimous 
sentiments,  which  in  outward  appearance  interfered 
with  their  interest;  and  this  in  spite  of  the  suggestions 
of  e  secret  jealousy,  which  never  fails  to  show  itM  It'  in 
the  most  sensible  manner  on  these  occasions.  By  the 
ascendant  and  authority  which  his  virtue  gives'him, 
he  raises  them  above  the  grovelling  and  unjust  (though 
too  common)  political  views,  that  prompt  the  people 
to  consider  the  calamities  of  their  neighbours  as  an 
advantage,  which  the  interest  of  their  own  country 
permits  and  even  enjoins  them  to  lay  hold  of.  The 
counsels  of  Cimon  were  perfectly  wise  and  equitable: 
but  it  is  surprising  how  he  coulci  prevail  so  far  as  to 
make  a  whole  people  approve  them,  since  this  is  all 
that  could  be  expected  from  an  assembly  of  the  wisest 
and  gravest  senators. 

Some  time  after,1  the  Lacedaemonians  again  im- 
plored the  aid  of  the  Athenians  against  the  Messeni- 
ans  and  Helots,  who  had  seized  upon  Ithome.  But 
these  forces  being  arrived  under  the  command  of  Ci- 
moii,  the  Spartans  began  to  dread  their  intrepiditv, 
their  power,  and  great  fame;  and  affronted  them  so 
far,  as  to  send  them  back,  i>pon  suspicion  of  their  har- 
bouring ill  designs,  and  of  intending  to  turn  their 
•rms  against  them. 

The  Athenians  bring  returned  full  of  anger  and 
resentment,  they  declared  themselves  from  that  very 
day,  enemies  to  all  who  should  favour  the  Lac.eda?mo- 
nian  interest;  for  which  reason  they  banished  Cimon 
by  the  ostracism,  on  the  first  opportunity  that  pre- 
iented  itself  for  that  purpose.  This  is  the  first  time 
that  the  misunderstanding  between  these  two  nations, 
which  afterwards  increased  through  mutual  discon- 
tent, displayed  itself  in  so  strong  a  manner.  It  WHS 
nevertheless  suspended  for  some  years,  by  truces  and 
treaties,  which  preventer!  its  consequences;  but  it  at 
last  broke  out  in  the  most  violent  manner  in  the  Pe- 
loponnrgian  war. 

Those  who  had  shut  themselves  up  in  Tthome,  af- 
ter making  a  ten  years'  defence  in  it,  surrendered  at 
last  to  the  Lacedaemonians,  who  gave  them  their  lives 
upon  condition  that  they  should  never  return  to  Pelo- 
ponnesus. The  Athenians,  to  exasperate  the  Lace- 
dfemonians,  received  them  with  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, and  settled  them  in  Naupuctu*.  of  which  they 
ha  i  ju-t  before  possessed  themselves.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  Megara  at  the  same  time  went  over  from  the 
Spartans  to  the  Athenians.*  In  this  manner  several 
leagues  were  concluded  on  both  sides,  and  many  bat- 
tit^  were  (uiiictit;  the  most  famous  of  which  was  that 
of  Tanagra  in  Bieotin,  which  Diodorus  equals  with 
those  of  Marathon  and  I'latrpa?,  and  in  which  Myro- 
nides  the  Athenian  defeated  the  Spartans,  who  came 
to  the  aid  ot  the  Thehans. 

l!  was  on   this  occas'on  that  Ci- 
A.  M.  354*8.     mon,3    thinking;   himself  disjoined 
A  J-  J.  C.  456.     from   his  proscription,  repaired   in 
arms  with  some  soldiers  to  his  tribe 
to  serve  his  country,    and   to  fight  in  the   Athenian 
army    against   the  Lacedaemonians:  hut   his   enemies 
caused  him  to  be  ordered  to  retire.    However,  before 
he  went  away,  he  exhorted  his  companions,  who  were 
no  less  suspected  than  himself  of  favouring  the  Lare- 
daemonians,  to  exert  themselves  to   the  utmost,  and 
fight  with  the  greatest  courage,  to  prove  their  inno- 
cence; and   if  possible  to  efl'.ce   from    the    minds  of 
their  citizens  a   suspicion  so  injurious    to    them  all. 
Accordingly,  those  brave  soldiers,  who  were  100  in 
Dumber,  fired  by  his  words,  requested   him  to  give 

t  riut.inCim.     Thcryd.  I.  i.   p.   fi7,  fiC 

•  Thu.:><l.  I.  i.  p.  ffl  Tl.     Uiod.  1.  «i.  o.  59— 64, 

•  Plut.  im'in.  p.  469. 


them  his  whole  armour,  which  they  placed  in  th« 
centre  of  their  little  battalion,  in  order  to  have  him  in 
a  manner  present  before  their  eyes.  Thty  fought  with 
so  much  valour  and  fury,  that  they  were  all  cut  to 
pieces,  to  the  great  regret  of  the  Athenians,  who  deep 
ly  repented  their  having  accused  them  so  unjustly. 
I  omit  several  events  of  little  importance. 

SECTION  IX.— CIMON  IS  RECALLED.  HE  ESTAB- 
LISHES PEACE  BETWEEN  THE  TWO  CITIES.  HE 
GAINS  SEVERAL  VICTORIES,  WHICH  REDUCE  AR- 
TAXERXES  TO  THE  NECESSITY  OK  CONCLUDING  A 
TREATY  HIGHLY  HONOURABLE  TO  THE  GREEKS. 
CI.MO.VS  DEATH. 

THE  Athenians,*  perceiving  the  great  occasion  they 
had  for  Cimon,  recalled  him  from  banishment,  in 
which  he  had  spent  five  years.  It  was  Pericles  him- 
se.lt  who  proposed  and  drew  up  that  decree;  so  mo- 
derate in  those  times,  says  Plutarch,  were  feuds  and 
animosities,  and  so  easy  to  be  appeased  when  the 
public  welfare  required  it;  and  so  happily  did  ambi- 
tion, which  is  one  of  the  strongest  and  most  lively  pas- 
sions, yield  to  the  necessity  ot  the  Hints,  and  comply 
with  the  occasions  of  the  public. 

The  instant  Cimon  returned,5  he 

stitied  the  sparks  of  war  which  were  A.  M.  3554. 

going  to  break  out  among  the  Ant.  J.  C.  450. 
Greeks,  reconciled  the  two  cities, 
and  prevailed  with  them  to  conclude  a  truce  for  five 
years.  And  to  prevent  the  Athenians,  who  were  grown 
haughty  in  consequence  of  the  many  victories  they  had 
gained,  from  having  an  opportunity,  or  harbouring  a 
design,  to  attack  their  neighbours  or  allies,  he  thuught 
it  advisable  to  lead  them  at  a  great  distance  from  home 
against  the  common  enemy;  thus  endeavouring,  in 
an  honourable  way,  to  inure  the  citizens  to  war,  and 
enrich  them  at  the  same  time.  Accordingly,  he  put 
to  sea  with  a  tleet  of  200  sail.  He  sent  sixty  of  these 
into  F.gypt  to  the  aid  of  Amyrteus,  and  him'self  sailed 
with  the  rest  against  the  island  of  Cyprus.  Artabazua 
was  it  that  time  in  those  seas  with  a  tleet  of  300  sail; 
and  Megabyzus,  the  other  general  of  Artaxerxes,  with 
an  army  ot  COO.OOO  men,  on  the  coast  of  Cilicia.  As 
scon  as  the  squadron  which  Cimon  had  sent  into 
Egypt  had  joined  his  fleet,  he  sailed  and  attacked  Ar- 
tabazus,  and  took  100  of  his  ships.  He  sunk  many 
of  thein,  and  chased  the  rest  as  far  as  the  coast  of 
Phoenicia.  And  as  if  this  victory  had  bten  only  a 
prelude  to  a  second,  he  made  a  descent  on  Cilicia  in 
his  return,  attacked  Megabyzus,  defeated  him,  and 
cut  to  pieces  a  prodigious  number  of  his  troops.  He 
afterwards  returned  to  Cyprus  with  this  double  tri- 
umph, and  laid  siege  to  Citium,  a  strong  city  of  very 
great  importance.  His  design, after  he  Lad  completed 
the  conquest  of  that  island,  was  to  sail  for  Egypt,  and 
again  embroil  the  affairs  of  the  barbarians;  for  he  had 
very  extensive  views,  and  meditated  no  less  a  project 
than  that  of  entirely  subverting  the  mighty  empire 
of  Persia.  The  rumours  which  prevailed,  that  The- 
mistocles  was  to  command  against  him.  added  fresh 
fire  to  his  courage:  and,  almost  assured  of  success,  he 
was  infinitely  pit  ased  with  the  occasion  of  trying  hit 
strength  against  that  general.  But  we  have  already 
seen  that  Themistocles  laid  violent  hands  on  himself 
about  this  time. 

Artaxerxes,6  tired  with  a  war  in  which  he  had  sus- 
tained such  great  losses,  resolved,  with  the  advice  of 
hi*  council,  to  put  an  end  to  it.  Accordingly  he  sent 
orders  to  his  generals  to  conclude  a  peace'with  the 
Athenians,  upon  the  most  advantageous  condition* 
they  could,  ftlegabyzus  and  Artahazu*  sent  ambassa- 
dors to  Athens  to  propose  an  accommodation.  Pleni- 
potentiaries were  chosen  on  both  sides,  and  Calla* 
was  at  the  head  of  those  of  Athens.  The  conditions 
of  the  treaty  were  as  follows:  1.  That  all  the  Grecian 
cities  of  Asia  should  enjoy  their  liberty,  with  such 
laws  and  forms  of  government  as  they  should  think 
fit  to  choose.  2.  That  no  Persian  ship' of  war  should 
be  allowed  to  enter  the  seas  between  the  C\  anean 
and  Chelidonian  islands,  that  is.  from  the  F.nxine  sea 


«  Plut   in  Cim.  p.  490. 
•  Diod.  p  74.  75 


>  Ibid.    Diod.  1.  lii  p.  73,74, 


284 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


lo  the  roasts  of  Paniphvlia.  3.  That  no  Persian 
general  should  advance  any  troops  within  three  days' 
march  of  those  seas.  4.  'That  the  Athenians  should 
not  invade  any  part  of  the  dominions  of  the  king  of 
Persia.  These  articles  being  ratified  by  both  jwrties, 
peace  was  proclaimed. 

Thus  ended  this  war.  whirh,  from 

A.  M.  3555.     the  burning  of  Sanlis  by  the  Athe- 

Ant.  J.  C.  449.     nians,   had    lasted    fifty-one    years 

complete,   and    in    which    infinite 

numbers  of  Persians  as  well  as  Greeks  had  perished. 

Whilst  this  treaty  was  negotiating,1  Ciuion  died, 
either  of  sickness,  or  of  a  wound  henad  received  at 
the  siege  of  Citium.  When  he  was  near  his  end,  he 
commanded  his  officers  to  sail  with  the  fleet  immedi- 
ately for  Athens,  and  to  conceal  his  death  with  the 
utmost  (tare.  Accordingly  it  was  executed  with  so 
much  secrecy,  that  neither  the  enemy  nor  the  allies 
once  suspected  it;  and  they  returned  safe  to  Athens, 
still  under  the  conduct  and  auspices  of  Cimon,  though 
he  had  been  dead  above  thirtv  davs. 

Cimon  was  universally  regretted;2  which  is  no' 
wonder,  since  he  was  possessed  of  all  those  qualities 
that  dignify  the  soul ;  a  most  tender  son,  a  faithful 
friend;  a  citizen  zealous  for  the  good  of  his  country; 
a  great  politician,  an  accomplished  general:  modest 
when  raised  to  the  highest  employments  nnd  mo*t  dis- 
tinguished honours;  liberal  and  beneficent  almost  to 
profusion ;  simple,  and  averse  to  ostentation  of  every 
kind,  even  in  the  midst  of  riches  and  abundance;  in 
Sne,  so  great  a  lover  of  the  poor  citizens,  as  to  share 
his  whole  estate  with  them,  without  being  ashamed 
of  such  companions  of  his  fortune.  History  men- 
tions no  statues  or  monuments  erected  to  his  memory, 
nor  any  magnificent  obs«quies  celebrated  after  his 
death;  but  the  greatest  honour  that  could  be  paid  him 
was  the  sighs  and  tears  of  the  people;  these  were  per- 
manent and  lasting  statues,3  which  are  not  obnoxious 
to  the  inclemencies  of  weather,  or  the  injuries  of 
time,  and  endear  the  memory  of  the  good  and  virtu- 
ous to  the  remotest  ages.  For  the  most  splendid 
mausoleums,  the  works  of  brass  and  marble,  that  are 
raised  in  honour  of  wicked  great  men,  are  despised  by 
posterity,  as  sepulchres  which  enclose  nothing  but 
yile  dust  and  putrefaction. 

What  followed  proved  more  strongly  the  los* 
which  Greece  had  sustained  by  his  death;  for  Cimon 
was  the  last  of  all  the  Grecian  generals  who  did  any 
thing  considerable  or  glorious  against  the  barbarians. 
Excited  by  the  orators,  who  gained  the  strongest  as- 
cendant over  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  sowed  the 
seeds  of  division  in  their  public  assemblies,  they  turn- 
ed their  animosity  against  each  other,  and  at  last  pro- 
ceeded to  open  war,  the  fatal  consequences  of  which 
BO  one  endeavoured  to  prevent;  a  circumstance  that 
was  of  great  advantage  to  the  king  of  Pers  a,  and  of 
the  utmost  prejudice  to  the  affairs  of  Greece. 

SECTION*  X. — THUcrmnES  is  OPPOSED  TO  PEUI- 

CF.ES.  THK  EVVT  RAISED  AGAINST  THE  r.ATTER. 
HE  Cr.FARS  HIMSELF,  AND  SUCCEEDS  IN  PROCU- 
RING THE  1SAMSHMENT  OF  THUCYUIDES. 
THE  nobles  of  Athens  seeing  Perirlfs  rai«e<l  to  the 
highest  decree  of  |rmvr.<  and  far  above  all  the  rest 
of  the  citizen*,  resolved  to  oppose  t-»  him  a  man  who. 
in  «ome  measure,  mi^M  make  head  against  him.  nnd 
prevent  h'«  authority  from  growing-  nn  to  monarchv. 
Accordingly  they  opposed  to  him  ThncvdHes.  Ci- 
mon's  brother-in-law,  a  man  who  had  displayed  his 
wisdom  on  numberless  occasion*.  He  did  not  indeed 
pos«e««  the  military  talents  of  Pericles:  hut  then  he 
had  as  irreat  influence  over  the  people;  shaping  their 
opinion*.  aiH  dim  ctin;  their  assemblies  as  he  pleased  ; 
and  as  he  never  stirred  out  of  the  city,  but  continually 
Combated  Peric|e«  in  all  hU  designs,  he  snon  restored 
tunics  to  an  equilibrium.  On  the  other  aide,  Pericles 

i  Pint,  in  Oim.  p    411. 

1  S;r  i-  gf  rpnd't.  miiiime  P««  mirnnHum.  »i  et  vit»  ejiii  full 
fecurn.  ft  nti'irs  nccrltn.  Or.  JWp.  in  Cim  <•  iv. 

•  HIT  |tulrh)>rritii;r  rffi?i.-s  <•!  mnn«urrr.      Warn,  qnm  mxn 
ftruuiitiir.  «i  jmlirium  piwtTnnim   in  odium   v>>rtit,  pro  pe> 
polrhrt«  «iwritintur.     Tneil.  Jinnal  lil>.  if .  c.  38. 

•  Tlui  in  Peric.  p.  158— JG1. 


was  solicitous  of  pleasing  the  people  on  all  occasions 
and  slackened' the  rein  more  than  ever;  entci  taiiiing 
them  as  often  as  possible  with  shows,  festiv&U,  garnet, 
and  other  diversions. 

He  found  means  to  maintain,  during  t  i<rht  months 
in  the  year,  a  great  number  of  poor  citizens,  by  put- 
ting them  on  board  a  fleet  consisting  of  thieescore 
ships,  which  he  fitted  out  everv  year;  and  thereby  did 
his  country  an  important  service,  by  training  up  a 
great  number  of  excellent  seamen  lor  its  de/cnce, 
He  al.so  planted  several  colonies  in  Chersonesus,  in 
Naxos.  in  Andros,  and  among  the  Bisaltiv  in  Thrace, 
He  sent  a  verv  numerous  one.  lo  Italy,  of  winch  we 
shall  soon  have  occasion  to  speak,  and  which  built 
Thuriiim.  Pericles  had  various  views  in  settling  those  . 
colonies,  besides  the  particv  j»r  design  he  might  have 
of  gaining  the  affections  of  the  people  by  '-bat  means. 
His  chief  motives  were  to  clear  the  city  of  a  great 
number  of  idle  persons  who  were  ever  ready  to  dis- 
turb the  government;  to  relieve  the  wants  of  the  lowest 
class  of  people,  who  before  were  unable  to  maintain 
themselves  ;  in  fine,  to  awe  the  allies,  by  settling 
native  Athenians  among  •hem,  as  so  many  garri-ons, 
which  might  prevent  their  engaging  in  any  measures 
contrary  to  the  interest  of  that  people.  The  Romani 
acted  in  the  same  manner;  and  it  may  be  sii  I  that  sc 
wise  a  policy  was  one  of  the  most  effectual  method* 
used  by  them  to  secure  the  tranquillity  of  the  state. 

But  the  circumstance  which  did  Pericles  the  great- 
est honour  in  the  opinion  of  the  people,  was  his  adorn- 
ing the  city  with  magnificent  edifices  and  other  works 
which  raised  the  admiration  and  astonishment  of  all 
foreigners,  and  gave  them  a  grand  idea  of  the  powei 
of  the  Athenians.  It  is  surprising  that  in  so  short  a 
space  so  many  works  of  architecture,  sculpture,  eii- 
grav  •ins;,  and  painting,  should  be  performed,  and  at 
the  same  time  be  carried  to  the  highest  perfection :  for 
it  is  generally  found,  that  edifices,  raised  in  hast* 
boast  neither  a  solid  and  durable  grace,  nor  the  regu 
lar  accumcy  of  perfect  beauty.  Commonly  nothing 
but  length  of  time  joined  to  assiduous  labour,  ~»n 
give  them  such  strength  as  may  preserve,  and  make 
them  triumph  over  ages;  and  this  raises  our  wonder 
still  more  in  regard  to  the  works  of  Pericles,  which 
were  finished  with  to  much  rapidity,  and  have  n»>-er- 
theless  subsisted  through  so  great  a  length  of  time. 
For  each  of  those  works,  the  very  in«tant  it  wa<  fin- 
ished, had  the  beautv  of  an  antique;  and  at  this  very 
clay,  says  Plutarch,  above  500  years  after,  they  retain 
a  freshness  and  youth  as  if  just  come  out  of  the  ar- 
tist's hands;  so  happily  do  they  preserve  the  graccf 
and  charms  of  novelty,  which  will  not  sutler  time  to 
diminish  their  lustre;  as  if  an  ever-blooming  spirit, 
and  a  soul  exempt  from  age,  were  diffused  into  ever/ 
part  of  those  works. 

But  that  circumstance,  which  excited  the  admira- 
tion of  the  whole  world,  raised  the  jealousy  of  the 
people  against  Pericles.  His  enemies  were  for  ever 
en  ing  aloud  in  the  assemblies,  th/>t  it  was  dishonour- 
able to  the  Athenians,  to  appropriate  to  themst  Ives 
the  hank  of  all  Greece,  which  he  had  sent  for  from 
Dt  I. is  where  it  had  been  deposited;  that  the  allies 
must  necessarily  consider  such  an  attempt  as  a  mani- 
fest tyranny,  when  they  found  that  the  sums  which 
had  been  extorted  from  them  upon  pretence  of  their 
being  employed  in  the  war,  were  laid  out  by  the 
Athenians  in  gilding1  and  embellishing  their  city,  in 
making  magnificent  statues,  and  raising  temples  that 
cost  millions.  They  <!id  not  exajrgrrate  on  these  oc- 
casions; for  the  temple  of  Minerva,  called  the  Par- 
thenon, had  alopt  cost  3,000,000  livres.5 

Pericles,  on  the  contrary,  remonstrated  to  the  Athe- 
nians, that  they  were  not  obliged  to  give  the  allies  an 
account  of  the  moneys  they  had  received  from  them; 
that  it  was  enough  they  defended  them  from,  and  re- 
pti!-«'.l,  the  barbarians,  whilst  the  allies  furnished  nei 
ther  soldiers,  hordes,  nor  ships;  and  were  excused  foi 
some  sums  of  money,  which,  from  the  instant  they 
were  paid  in,  were  no  longer  the  property  of  the  do 
nors,  but  of  those  who  received  them,  provided  thej 
performed  the  conditions  agreed  upon,  and  in  con 

•  About  142.0001.  sterling. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


285 


uileratioii  of  which  they  were  received.  He  added, 
that  as  the  Athenians  were  sufficiently  provided  with 
•I!  things  necessary  lor  war,  it  was  but  just  that  they 
should  employ  the  rest  of  their  riches  in  edifices  ami 
Other  works,  which,  when  finished,  would  give  im- 
Diortal  glory  to  the  city :  and  which,  during  the  whole 
e  me  they  were  carrying  on,  diffused  a  general  plenty, 
»nd  gave  bread  to  an  infinite  number  ot'cilixr ns;  that 
they  themselves  had  all  kinds  of  materials,  as  timber, 
•tone,  brass,  ivory,  gold,  ebony,  and  cypress  wood ; 
and  all  sorts  ot  artificers  capable  of  working  them,  as 
carpenters,  masons,  smiths,  stone-cutters,  dyers,  goid- 
imith«,  artificers  in  ebony,  painters,  embroiderers, 
•nd  turners;  nun  fit  to  coiuey  these  materials  by  sea, 
M  merchants,  sailors,  and  experienced  pilots;  others, 
for  land  carriage,  as  cartwrights,  waggoner*,  carters, 
ropemakers,  stonehewers,  paviors,  and  miners.  That 
it  was  for  the  advantage  of  the  state  to  employ  these 
different  artificers  ami  workmen,  who,  as  so  many 
separate  bodies,  formed,  when  united,  a  kind  of  peace"- 
able  and  domestic  army,  whose  different  functions  and 
employments  diffused  gain  and  increase  throughout 
all  sexes  and  ages:  lastly,  that  whilst  men  of  robust 
bodies,  and  of  an  age  fit  lo  bear  arm*,  whether  sol- 
diers or  mariner?,  and  those  who  were  in  the  different 
garrisons,  were  supported  with  the  public  moneys; 
it  was  but  just,  that  the  rest  of  the  people  who  lived 
in  the  city  should  also  be  maintained  in  their  way; 
and  that,  as  all  were  members  of  the  same  republic, 
they  all  ought  to  reap  the  same  advantages,  hv  do- 
ing it  service*,  which,  though  of  a  different  kind,  did 
however  all  contribute  either  to  its  security  or  orna- 
ment. 

One  day,  as  the  debates  were  growing  warm.  Peri- 
cles offered  to  defray  all  the  expense  of  these  build- 
ings, provided  it  should  be  declared  in  the  public  in- 
scriptions, that  he.  alone  had  been  at  tho  charge  of 
them.  At  these  words,  the  people,  either  admiring 
his  magnanimity,  or  fired  with  emulation  and  deter- 
mined nut  to  lit  him  engross  that  glory,  cried  with 
one  voice,  that  he  might  take  out  of  the  public  trca- 
inr\  all  the  sums  necessary  for  his  purpose. 

I'hidins  the  celebrated  sculptor  presided  over  all 
ticse  works  as  dictator-general.  It  was  he  in  parti- 
•ular  who  formed  the  statue  of  Pallas,  which  was  so 
lighly  valued  by  all  the  judges  of  antiquity.  It  wa» 
uade  of  gold  and  ivory,'  and  was  twenty -six  cubits, 
>r  thirty-nine  fi-et,  in  fieight.  There  arose  an  incredi- 
ole  ardour  and  emulation  among  the  several  artificers, 
who  all  strove  to  excel  each  other,  and  immortalize 
their  names  by  master-pieces  of  art. 

The  Odeon,  or  music-theatre,  which  had  a  great 
number  of  rows  of  seats  and  columns  within  it,  and 
whose  roof  grew  narrower  by  degrees,  and  termina- 
ted in  a  point,  was  built,  as  history  informs  us,  after 
the  model  of  king  Xerxes's  lent,  according  to  the 
direction  of  Pericles.  It  was  at  that  time  he  pro- 
posed, with  great  warmth,  a  decree,  by  which  it  was 
ordained,  that  musical  games  should  be  celebrated 
on  the  festival  called  Panathenaea;  and  having  been 
chosr.n  the  judge  and  distributor  of  the  prizes,  he  re- 
gulated the  manner  in  which  musicians  should  play 
on  the  flute  and  the  lyre,  as  well  as  sing.  From  thbt 
lime,  the  musical  games  were  always  exhibited  in 
this  theatre. 

I  have  already  taken  notice,  that  the  more  the 
beauty  and  splendour  of  these  works  were  admired, 
the  greater  envy  and  clamour  were  raised  against 
Pericles.  The  orators  of  the  opposite  faction  were 
eternally  exclaiming  against  him;  accusing  him  of 
squandering  the  public  moneys,  and  of  laying  out 
very  unseasonably  the  revenues  of  the  state  in  edi- 
fices, whose  magnificence  was  of  no  use.  At  last, 
the  rupture  between  him  and  Thucydides  rose  to  such 
a  height,  that  one  or  other  of  them  must  necessarily 
be  banished  by  the  ostracism.  He  got  the  better  of 
Thuc.ydides;  prevailed  to  have  him  banished;  crush- 
ed by  that  means  the  faction  which  opposed  him,  and 
obtained  a  despotic  authority  over  the  city  and  gov- 


ernment of  Athens.  He  MOW  disposed  at  pleasure  of 
the  public  money*,  troops,  and  ships.  The  islands 
and  se:t  were  subject  to  him;  and  he  reigned  singlj 
and  alone  in  that  wide  domain,  which  extended  not 
only  over  the  Greeks,  but  the  barbarians  al.-o,  and 
which  was  cemented  and  strengthened  by  the  obe- 
dience and  fidelity  of  the  conquered  nations,  by  the 
friendship  of  king's,  and  treaties  concluded  with  vari- 
ous princes. 

Historians  highly  extol  the  magnificent  edifice*  and 
other  works  with  which  Pericles  adorned  Athens,  mid 
I  have  related  faithfully  their  teslimonj  ;  but  1  do  not 
know  whether  the  complaints  and  murmurs  raised 
against  him  were  so  verv  ill  grounded.  Was  it,  in- 
deed, just  in  him  to  (  \|H  ml,  I'D  superfluous  building 
and  vain  decorations,  the  immense  sums  intended  an 
a  fund  for  carrying  on  the  war?2  and  would  it  not 
have  been  bftter  to  have  eased  the  allies  of  part  of 
the  contributions,  which  in  Pericles  s  administialion, 
were  raised  to  a  third  part  more  than  before?  Cice- 
ro3 considers  only  such  edifices  and  other  works  wor- 
thy of  admiration,  as  are  of  use  to  the  public,  as  aque- 
ducts, city  walls,  citadels,  first nals,  sea-ports;  and 
among  these  we  must  rank  the  work  made  by  Pericles 
to  join  Athens  to  the  port  of  Piraeus.  Hut  Cicero 
observes,  at  the  same  time,  that  Pericles  was  blamed 
for  squandering  away  the  public  treasure,  merely  to 
embellish  the  itv  with  superfluous  ornaments.  Pla- 
to,4 who  formed  a  judgment  of  things,  not  Irom  their 
outward  splendour,  but  from  truth,  observes,  (after 
his  master  Socrates.)  that  Pericles,  with  all  his  grand 
edifices  and  other  works,  had  not  improved  the  mind 
of  one  of  the  citizens  in  virtue,  but  lather  corrupted 
the  purity  and  simplicity  of  their  ancient  manners, 

SECTION  XI.— PERICLES  CHANGES  H13  CONDUCT 
TOWARDS  THK  PE<  PI.E.  HIS  PRODIGIOUS  AU- 
THORITY. HIS  DISINTERESTEDNESS. 
WHEN  Pericles  saw  himself  thus  invested  with  the 
whole  authority,5  he  began  to  change  his  behaviour. 
He  now  was  not  so  mild  and  affable  as  before,  nor  did 
he  -i. limit  or  abandon  himself  any  longer  to  the  whims 
and  caprice  of  the  people,  as  to  so  many  winds;  but 
drawing  in,  says  Plutarch,  the  reins  of  this  too  loose, 
popular  government,  in  the  same  manner  as  we  screw 
up  the'  strings  of  an  instrument  when  too  slack,  he 
changed  it  into  an  aristocracy,  or  rather  a  kind  of 
monarchy,  without  departing  however  from  the  public 
good.  Choosing  always  what  was  most  expedient, 
and  becoming  irreproachable  in  all  things,  he  gained 
so  mighty  an  ascendant  over  the  minds  of  the  people 
that  he  turned  and  directed  them  at  pleasure.  Some- 
times by  his  bare  advice,  and  by  persuasive  methods, 
he  would  win  them  over  gently  to  his  will,  and  gain 
their  as-ent  spontaneously:  at  other  times  when  he 
found  them  obstinate,  he  would  in  a  manner  drag 
them  forward  against  their  will,  to  those  measures 
which  were  most  expedient;  imitating  in  this  respect 
a  skilful  physician,  who,  in  a  tedious  and  stubborn 
disease,  knows  at  what  time  it  is  proper  lor  him  to  in- 
dulge his  patient  in  innocent  tilings  that  are  pleasing 
to  him;  at  what  time  afterwards  he  must  administer 
medicines  of  a  strong  and  violent  nature,  which  in- 
deed put  him  to  pain,  but  are  alone  capable  of  restor- 
ing his  health. 

And,  indeed,  it  is  manifest  that  the  utmost  skill  and 
abilities  were  required  to  manage  and  govern  a  popu- 
lace haughty  from  their  power  and  exceedingly  ca- 
pricious; and  in  thi»  res  pert  Pericles  succeeded  won- 
licrfullv.  He  used  to  employ,  according  to  the  differ- 
ent situation  of  thiners.  sometimes  hope  and  at  other 
times  fear,  as  a  double  helm,  either  to  check  the  wild 
transports  ami  impetuosity  of  the  people,  or  to  raise 
their  spirits  when  dejected  and  desponding.  By  this 
conduct  he  showed  that  eloquence,  as  Plato  observes, 
is  only  the  art  of  directing  the  mini's  of  people  at 
will;  and  that  the  chief  excellency  of  this  art  consist* 
in  moving,  seasonably,  the  various  passions,  whethet 


t  Non  Minervte  Athenii  facts  amplitudinc  utemur,  rOm 
•a  «it  cuhitorura  »«i.  Ebore  b«c  et  auro  consttl.  Ptin.  1. 
sxxti.  c.  V 


*  They  amonntpil  to  upward*  of  10,000,000  French  money 
»  Lih.'ii   Offic.  n.  60. 

*  In  (Jure.  p.  .'>]'>.     In  Alcib.  e.  i.  p.  J19. 
i  Plat,  in  Pericl.  p.  161. 


286 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


pentle  or  violent;  which  being  to  the  soul  what  strings 
are  to  a  musical  instrument,  need  only  to  be  touched 
by  an  ingenious  and  skilful  hand  to  produce  their 
etfect. 

It  must  nevertheless  be  confessed,  that  the  circum- 
stance whir.h  gave  Pericles  this  great  authority,  was, 
not  only  the  force  of  his  eloquence;  but,  as  Thucy- 
dides  observes,  the  reputation  of  his  life,  and  great 
probity. 

Plutarch  points  out  in  Pericles  one  quality  which  is 
very  essential  to  statesmen;1  a  quality  well  a.lapted 
to  win  t!ie  esteem  and  confidence  of  the  public,  and 
which  supposes  a  great  superiority  of  mind;  and  that 
is,  for  a  man  to  be  fully  persuaded  that  he  wants  the 
counsels  of  others,  and  is  not  able  to  manage  and  di- 
rect all  things  alone;  to  associate  with  himself  in  his 
labours  persons  of  merit,  to  employ  each  of  these 
according  to  his  talents;  and  to  leave  to  them  the 
management  of  small  matters,  which  only  consume 
time,  and  deprive  him  of  that  liberty  of  mind,  which 
is  so  necessary  in  the  conduct  of  important  affairs. 
Such  a  conduct,  says  Plutarch,  is  productive  of  two 
great  advantages.  First,  it  extinguishes,  or  at  least 
deadens,  the  force  of  envy  and  jealousy,  by  dividing, 
in  some  measure,  a  power,  which  is  grating  and  of- 
fensive to  o..r  self-love  when  we  see  it  united  in  one 
•ingle  person,  as  if  all  merit  centred  in  him  alone. 
Secondly,  it  forwards  and  facilitates  the  execution  of 
affairs,  and  makes  their  success  more  certain.  Plu- 
tarch, the  belter  to  explain  his  thought,  employs  a 
very  natural  and  beautiful  comparison.  The  hand, 
says  he,  from  its  being  divided  into  five  fingers,  is  so 
far  from  being  weaker,  that  it  is  the  stronger,  the 
more  active,  and  better  adapted  to  motion,  on  that 
very  account.  It  is  the  same  with  a  statesman,  who 
ha*  the  skill  to  divide  his  cares  and  functions  in  a 
proper  manner,  and  who  by  that  means  makes  his 
authority  more  active,  more  extensive  and  decisive: 
whereas,  the  indiscreet  eagerness  of  a  narrow-minded 
man,  who  takes  umbrage  .at,  and  wishes  to  engross 
every  thing,  serves  to  no  other  purpose  but  to  set  his 
weakness  and  incapacity  in  a  stronger  light,  and  to 
disconcert  his  affairs.  But  Pericles,  says  Plutarch, 
did  not  act  in  this  manner.  Like  a  skilful  pilot,  who, 
though  he  stand  almost  motionless  himself,  however 
puts  every  thing  in  motion,  and  will  sometimes  seat 
subaltern  officers  at  the  helm;  so  Pericles  was  the 
soul  of  the  government;  and,  seeming  to  do  nothing 
of  himself,  he  actuated  and  governed  all  things;  em- 
ploying the  eloquence  of  one  man,  the  credit  and 
interest  of  another,  the  prudence  of  a  third,  and  the 
bravery  and  courage  of  a  fourth. 

To  what  has  been  here  related,2  we  may  add  ano- 
ther quality,  which  is  no  less  rare  and  valuable,  I 
mean,  a  noble  and  disinterested  soul.  Pericles  was 
so  averse  to  the  receiving  of  gifts,  had  such  an  utter 
contempt  for  riches,  and  was  to  far  above  all  rapa- 
ciousness  and  avarice,  that  though  he  had  raised 
Athens  to  the  richest  and  most  flourishing  state; 
though  his  power  surpassed  that  of  many  tyrants  and 
kings;  though  he  had  long  disposed  in  an  absolute 
manner  of  the  treasures  of  Greece,  he  did  not,  how- 
ever, add  a  single  drachma  to  the  estate  he  inherited 
from  his  father.  This  was  the  source,  the  true  cause, 
of  the  supreme  authority  of  Pericles  in  the  republic; 
the  just  and  deserved  fruit  of  his  integrity  and  per- 
fect disinterestedness. 

It  was  not  only  for  a  few  short  moments,  nor  during 
the  first  impressions  of  rising  favour,  which  are  gene- 
rally short-lived,  that  he  preserved  this  authority.  He 
maintained  it  forty  years,  notwithstanding  the  oppo- 
sition of  Cimon,  of  Tolmides,  of  Thucydides,  and 
many  others,  who  had  all  declared  against  him;  and 
of  the«e  forty  years  he  spent  the  last  fifteen  without  a 
rival,  from  the  time  of  Thucydides's  banishment,  and 
disposed  of  all  affairs  with  absolute  power.  Never- 
theless, in  the  midst  of  this  supreme  authority,  which 
he  had  rendered  perpetual  and  unlimited  in  his  own 
person,  his  soul  was  always  superior  to  the  charms 
and  allurements  of  wealth,  though  he  never  neglected 


•  Plul  in  praec.  de  rep.  per.  p.  812. 
»  Plut.  in  vit.  Pericl.  p.  161,  162. 


improving  his  estate  to  the  utmost  of  his  power.  For 
Pericles  did  not  act  like  those  rich  men,  who  ,nov- 
withstanding  their  immense  revenues,  either  through 
negligence  or  want  of  economy,  or  pompous  and  ab 
surd  expenses,  are  always  poor  in  the  midst  of  their 
riches;  unable  and  unwilling  to  do  the  least  service 
to  their  virtuous  friends,  or  their  faithful  and  zealous 
domestics;  and  at  last  die  overwhelmed  with  debts, 
leaving  their  name  and  memory  to  the  detestation  of 
their  unfortunate  creditors;  of  whose  ruin  they  have 
been  the  cause.  I  shall  not  expatiate  on  another  ex 
trenie,  to  which  this  negligence  and  want  of  economy 
gent-rally  lead,  I  mean  rapine,  a  love  of  gifts,  and 
exactions;  for  here,  as  well  as  in  the  management  of 
the  public  moneys,  the  maxim  of  Tacitus  holds  good,' 
viz.  that  when  a  man  has  squandered  away  his  estate, 
he  then  makes  it  his  whole  study  to  retrieve  the  los* 
of  it  by  all  sorts  of  methods,  not  excepting  the  most 
criminal. 

Pericles  knew  much  better  the  use  which  a  states- 
man ought  to  make  of  riches.  He  was  sensible  that 
he  ought  to  expend  them  in  the  service  of  the  public, 
in  procuring  ot  able  men  to  assist  him  in  the  adminis- 
tration; in  relieving  good  officers,  who  too  often  are 
destitute  of  the  favours  of  fortune;  in  rewarding  and 
encouraging  merit  of  every  kind,  and  a  thousand  sue!1 
things;  to  which  doubtless,  either  on  account  of  the 
exquisite  jov  they  give  or  the  solid  glory  that  results 
from  them,  no  one  will  be  so  thoughtless  as  to  com- 
pare the  expenses  lavished  away  in  entertainments, 
equipages,  or  gaining.  In  this  view,  Pericles  man- 
aged his  own  estate  with  the  utmost  economy;  having 
himself  taught  one  of  his  old  servants  to  take  care  o? 
his  domestic  concerns;  and  he  always  had  the  ac- 
count brought  him,  at  stated  time?,  of  all  sums  that 
had  been  received  as  well  as  expended;  confining  him- 
self and  his  family  to  a  decent  subsistence  (from  which 
he  banished  severely  all  superfluities  of  a  vain  and  os- 
tentatious kind,)  suitable  to  his  estate  and  condition. 
This  wnv  of  life,  indeed,  did  by  no  means  please  his 
children  when  they  were  come  to  years  of  maturity, 
and  much  less  his  wife.  They  thought  Pericles  did 
not  live  at  a  sufficient  expense  for  persons  of  their 
rank;  and  murmured  at  that  low  and  sordid  economy, 
as  they  called  it,  which  carried  no  air  of  the  plenty 
which  generally  reigns  in  houses  where  riches  and 
authority  are  united.  However,  Pericles  paid  little 
regard  to  these  complaints,  and  directed  his  conduct 
by  far  superior  views. 

I  believe  we  ma}-  apply,  on  this  occasion,  a  very 
just  remark  of  Plutarch,  in  his  parallel  of  Aristides 
and  Cato.  After  saying,  that  political  virtue,  or  the 
art  of  governing  cities  and  kingdoms,  is  the  greatest 
and  most  perfect  that  man  can  acquire,  he  adds,  that 
economy  is  not  one  of  the  least  considerable  branches 
of  this  virtue.  And  indeed,  as  riches  are  one  of  the 
means  which  may  most  contiibute  to  the  security  or 
ruin  of  a  state:  the  art  that  teaches  to  dispose  and 
make  a  good  use  of  them,  and  which  is  called  econo- 
my, is  certainly  a  branch  of  politics;  and  not  one  of 
the  least  considerable  branches  of  it,  since  great  wis- 
dom is  required,  in  order  to  the  observing  a  just  me- 
dium on  these  occasion?,  and  to  the  banishing  poverty 
and  too  great  opulence  from  a  country.  It  is  thii 
art,  which,  by  avoiding  industriously  all  trifling  and 
needless  expenses,  prevents  a  magistrate  from  being 
forced  to  overburden  a  people  with  taxes;  and  keeps 
always  in  reserve,  in  the  public  coffers,  money  suffi- 
cient for  the  supporting  a  war  that  may  break  out,  or 
for  providing  against  any  unforeseen  emergency. 
Now  what  is  said  of  a  kingdom  or  a  city.,  may  bo  said 
also  of  individuals.  For  a  city  which  is  composed 
of  an  assemblage  of  houses,  ana  which  forms  a  whole 
of  several  parts  united,  is  either  powerful  or  weak  in 
the  aggregate,  in  proportion  as  all  the  members  of 
which  it  consists  are  powerful  or  weak.  Pericles  cer. 
tainly  acquitted  himself  well  with  regard  to  that  part 
of  th'is  science  which  relates  to  the  government  of  a 
family:  but  I  do  not  know  whether  the  same  may  b« 
said  of  his  administration  of  the  public  revenues 


s  Hi   amhitione  s-rarinm  eihaosenmuii,  per  crelera  top- 
plendum  erit.     Tacit.  Annal.  \.  ii.  c  38. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


287 


SECTION  XII. — JEALOUSY  AND  CONTESTS  ARISE 
BETWEEN  THE  ATHENIANS  AND  LACEDEMONI- 
ANS. A  TREATY  OF  PEACE  IS  CONCLUDED  FOR 
THIRTY  YEARS. 

SUCH  was  the  conduct  of  Pericles  with  respect  to 
his  domestic,  concerns:'  and  his  administration  of  pub- 
lic alfairs  is  no  less  worthy  of  admiration.  The  La- 
cedaemonians beginning  to  grow  jealous  of  the  pros- 
perity of  the  Athenians,  and  to  take  umbrage  at  it; 
Pericles,  to  inspire  his  citizens  with  greater  courage. 
.  ind  magnanimity,  published  a  decree,  importing,  that 
notice  should  be  sent  to  all  the  Greeks  inhabiting 
either  Europe  or  Asia,  and  to  all  the  cities  great  or 
•mall,  to  send  immediately  deputies  to  Athens,  to  de- 
bate on  the  means  of  rebuilding  the  temples  that  had 
been  burnt  by  the  barbarians;  and  of  performing-  the 
sacrifices  which  they  had  ensraged  themselves  to  offer 
up,  for  the  preservation  and  safet)'  of  Greece,  when 
war  was  carrying  on  against  them;  as  also,  to  consi- 
der the  necessary  expedients  for  establishing  such  an 
order  and  discipline  in  their  navy,  that  all  ships  might 
sail  in  safety,  and  the  Greeks  live  in  peace  one  with 
another. 

Accordingly,  twenty  persons  were  chosen  for  this 
embassy,  each  of  whom  was  upwards  of  fifty  years  of 
age.  Five  of  these  were  sent  to  the  Ionian's  and  Do- 
rians of  Asia,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  islands  a«  far 
as  Lesbos  and  Rhodes;  five  to  the  countries  of  the 
Hellespont  and  Thrace,  as  far  as  Byzantium.  Five 
were  ordered  to  go  to  Breotia.  to  Phocis,  and  Pelo- 
ponnesus; and  from  thence,  by  the  country  of  the 
Locriaiis,  to  proceed  to  the  several  cities  of  the  upper 
continent  as  far  as  Acarnania  and  Ambracia.  The 
last  five  were  ordered  to  cross  Euboea,  and  to  go  to 
the  people  of  mount  (Eta,  and  those  of  the  eulf  of 
Malea,  and  to  the  inhabitants  of  Phthiotis,  of  Achaia, 
and  of  Thessaly  ;  to  induce  the  several  nations  to 
come  to  the  assembly  convened  at  Athens,  and  to 
assist  at  the  debates  which  should  be  there  carried  on 
concerning  peace  and  the  general  anVirs  of  Greece. 
I  judged  it  necessary  to  enter  into  this  detail,  as  it 
shows  how  far  the  power  of  the  Greeks  extended,  and 
the  authority  which  the  Athenians  enjoyed  among 
thrm. 

_  But  all  these  solicitations  were  in  vain ;  as  the  cities 
ilid  not  send  their  deputies,  which,  according  to  his- 
torians, was  owing  to  the  opposition  made  by  the  La- 
cedaemonians, a  circumstance  we  are  not  to  wonder 
at.  They  were  sensible  that  Pericles's  design  was  to 
have  Athens  acknowledged  as  mistress  and  sovereign 
of  all  the  other  Grecian  cities;  and  Lacedaemon  was 
far  from  allowing  it  thnt  honour.  A  secret  leaven  of 
dissension  had,  for  some  years,  beerun  to  disturb  the 
tranquillity  of  Greece;  and  we  shall  find  by  the  se- 
qup|,  that  this  discord  augmented  continually. 

Pericles  had  acquired  great  fame  for  the"  wisdom 
with  which  he  formed  and  conducted  his  enterprises. 
The  troops  reposed  the  highest  confidence  in  him, 
and  followed  him  with  full  assurance  ofsuccess.  His 
chief  maxim  in  war  was,  never  to  venture  a  battle 
unless  he  were  almost  certain  of  victory,  and  not  to 
lavish  the  blood  of  the  citizens.  He  used  to  say  fre- 
quently, that  were  it  in  it«  power  they  should  b's  im- 
mortal:  that  trees  when  felled  shoot  to  life  again  in  a 
little  tinie,  hut  when  once  men  die  they  are  lost  for 
ever.  A  victory  that  was  only  the  effect  of  fortunate 
temerity,  appeared  to  him  little  worthy  of  praise, 
though  it  oflrn  wns  much  admired. 

His  expedition  into  the  Thracian  Chersonesus  did 
him  great  honour,  and  was  of  great  advantage  to  all 
th«  Greeks  of  that  country ;  for  he  not  only  strength- 
ened the  Grecian  cities  of  that  peninsula,  by  the  col- 
onies of  the  Athenians  which  he  carried  thither,  hut 
also  shut  up  the  isthmus  with  a  strong  wall,  with  forts 
at  proper  distances  from  sea  to  sea;  securing  by  that 
means  the  whole  country  from  the  perpetual  incur- 
sions of  the  Thracians,  who  were  very  near  neigh- 
bours to  it. 

He  also  sailed  with  100  ships  round  Peloponnesus, 
spreading  the  terror  of  the  Athenian  arms  wherever  he 

<  Plat,  in  Pericl.  p.  163. 


came,  the  success  of  which  was  not  once  interrupted 
on  this  occasion. 

He  advanced  as  far  as  the  kingdom  of  Pontus  with 
a  large,  well-manned,  end  magnificent  fleet;  and 
granted  the  Grecian  cities  all  they  thought  fit  to  ask 
of  him.  At  the  same  time  he  displayed  to  the  barba- 
rian nations  in  that  neighbourhood,  to  their  kings  and 
princes,  the  greatness  of  the  power  of  the  Athenians; 
and  proved  to  them,  by  the  security  with  which  lie 
sailed  to  all  parts,  that  they  possessed  the  empire  of 
the  seas  without  a  rival. 

But  so  constant  and  shining  a  fortune  began  to 
dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  Athenians.2  Intoxicated  with 
the  idea  of  their  power  and  grandeur,  they  now  re- 
volved nothing  but  the  boldest  and  most  lofty  projects. 
They  were  for  ever  talking  of  new  attempts  upon 
Egypt;  of  attacking  the  maritime  provinces  of  the 
great  king;  of  carrying  their  arms  into  Sicily  (a  fatal 
and  unhappy  design,  which  at  that  time  did  not  take 
effect,  though  it  was  revived  soon  after;)  and  of  ey- 
tending  their  conquests  towards  Hetruria  on  one  side, 
and  Carthage  on  the  other.  Pericles  was  far  from 
giving  in  to  such  idle  views,  or  supporting  them  with 
his  credit  and  approbation.  On  the  contrary,  his 
whole  study  was  to  dump  that  restless  ardour,  and 
check  an  ambition  which  r.o  longer  knew  either 
bounds  or  measure.  It  was  his  opinion,  that  the 
Athenians  ought  to  employ  their  forces  for  the  future 
only  iii  securing  and  preserving  their  present  acquisi- 
tions; and  he  thought  he  had  gained  a  great  point  in 
restraining  the  power  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  the  re- 
ducing of  which  he  always  meditated;  and  this  was 
particularly  seen  in  the  sacred  war. 

This  name  was  given  to  the  war  which  was  raised 
on  account  of  Delphi.3  The  Lacedaemonians  having 
entered  armed  into  the  country  where  that  temple  is 
situated,  had  dispossessed  the  people  of  Phocis  of  the 
superintendence  of  that  temple,  and  bestowed  it  on 
the  Delphiai  t.  As  soon  as  they  had  left  it,  Peri- 
cles went  thither  with  an  army  and  restored  the  Pho- 
cians. 

Eubrea  having  rebelled  at  the  same  time,  Periclei 
was  obliged  to  inarch  thither  with  an  army.  He  was 
no  sooner  arrived  there,  than  news  was  brought  that 
the  inhabitants  of  Megara  had  taken  up  arms,  and 
that  the  Lacedaemonians  headed  by  Plistonax  their 
king,  were  on  the  frontiers  of  Attica.  This  obliged 
him  to  quit  F.nlxea,  and  to  go  with  all  possible  expe- 
dition to  defend  his  country.  The  Lacedaemonian 
army  being  retired,  he  returned  against  the  rebels, 
and  "again  subjected  all  the  cities  of  Eubffia  to  the 
Athenians. 

After  this  expedition,*  a  truce  of 
thirty    years    was    concluded     be-  A.  M.  3558, 

tween  the  Athenians  and  Lacedae-      Ant.  J.  C.  446.     . 
monians.       This     treaty    restored 
tranquillity  for  the  present;  but  as  it  did  not  descend 
to  the  root  of  the  evil,  nor  cure  the  jealousy  and  en- 
mity of  the  two  nations,  this  calm  was  not  of  long  du- 
ration. 

SECTION  XIII. — NEW  sunjECTS  OF  CONTENTION 

BETWEEN  THE  TWO  NATIONS,  OCCASIONED  BY 
THE  ATHENIANS  LAYING  SIEGE  TO  SAMOS  ;  BY 
THEIR  SUCCOURING  THE  PEOPLE  OF  CORCYRA, 
AND  BESIEGING  POTID.EA.  AN  OPEN  RUPTURK 

ENSUES. 

THE  Athenians,*  six  years  after, 
took  up  arms  against  Samos   in  fa-  A    M.  3564 

vour  of  Miletus.  These  two  cities  Ant.  J.  C.  440. 
were  contesting  for  that  of  Priene, 
to  which  each  claimed  a  right.  It  is  pretended,  that 
Pericles  kindled  this  war  to  please  a  famous  courte- 
san, of  whom  he  was  very  fond;  her  name  was  A»- 
pnsia,  a  native  of  Miletus  After  several  events  and 
buttles,  Pericles  besieged  the  capital  of  the  island  of 
Samos.  It  is  said,  that  this  was  the  first  time  he  used 
military  engines,  as  battering-rams  arid  tortoises,  in- 


a  Plut.  in  Pericl.  p.  164.  •  Ibid. 

*  Thucyd.  I.  i.  p.  75.     Diod.  p.  P7. 

•  Thucyd   1.  i   p.  75,  76.     Diod.  1.  xii.  p.  88   89.     Wit.  hi 
Pericl.  p.  165—157 


288 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


rented  by  Artemon  the  engineer,  who  was  lame,  and 
therefore  was  always  carried  in  a  chair  to  the  batte- 
ries, whence  he  was  surnamed  Periphoretu*.  The  use 
of  these  machines  had  been  long  known  in  the  Ka>t. 
The  Samians,  alt.T  sustaining  a  nine  months'  siege, 
surrendered;  Pericles  razed  their  walls,  dispossessed 
them  of  their  ships,  and  demanded  immense  sums  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  war.  Part  of  these  sums 
they  paid  down;  agreed  to  disburse  the  rest  at  a  cer- 
tain time,  and  gave  hostages  by  way  of  security  for 
the  payment. 

After  the  reduction  of  Samos,  Pericles,  being  re- 
turned to  Athens,  in  a  splendid  manner  celebrated  the 
obsequies  of  those  \\Yin  had  lost  their  lives  in  this  war, 
and  pronounced  in  person  the  funeral  oration  over 
their  graves.  This  custom,  which  he  first  introduced, 
was  afterwards  regularly  observed.  The  senate  of 
the  Areopagus  always  appointed  the  orator  on  these 
occasions.  He  was  chosen,  ten  years  after,  for  the 
like  ceremony  in  the  beginning-  of  the  Pelopoitnesian 
war. 

Pericles,'  who  foresaw  that  a 
A.  M.  3572.  rupture  would  soon  ensue  between 
Ant.  J.  C.  432.  the  Athenians  and  Lacedaemonians, 
advised  the  former  to  send  aid  to 
the  people  of  Corcyra,  whom  the  Corinthians  had  in- 
vaded; and  to  win  over  to  their  interest  that  island, 
which  was  so  very  formidable  at  sea;  foretelling 
them,  that  they  would  shortly  be  attacked  by  the  na- 
tions of  the  Peloponnesus.  The  occasion  of  the 
quarrel  between  the  people  of  Corcyra  and  Corinth, 
which  gave  rise  to  the  Peloponnesian  war,  one  of  the 
most  considerable  events  in  the  Grecian  history,  was 
a*  follows. 

Kpiiianinuin,*  a  maritime  citv  of  Macedonia  among 
the  Taulantii,  was  <\  colony  of  Corcvreans,  founded 
by  I'liulius  of  Corinth.  This  city  ha'vin^  become  in 
process  of  time  very  populous  and  powerful,  divisions 
arose  in  it,  and  the  common  people  expelled  the  most 
wealthy  inhabitants,  who  went  over  to  the  neigh- 
bouring nations,  and  infested  them  greatly  by  their 
incursions.  In  this  extremity  they  first  had  recourse 
*.o  the  Corcvreans,  and  being  refused  bv  them,  they 
addressed  the  Corinthians,  who  took  them  under  their 
protection,  sent  succours  to  them,  and  settled  other 
inhabitants  in  their  city.  But  they  did  not  continue 
long  unmolested  there,  the  Corcvreans  besieging  it 
with  a  large  fleet.  The  people  of  Corinth  hastened 
to  its  aid,  but  having  been  defeated  at  sea,  the  city 
surrendered  that  very  day  upon  condition  that  the 
foreigners  should  be  slaves,  and  the  Corinthians  pris- 
oners till  farther  orders.  The  Corcyreans  erected  a 
trophy,  murdered  all  their  prisoners  except  the  Cor- 
'nthimis,  and  laid  waste  the  whole  country. 

The  year  after  the  battle,  the  Corinthians  raised  a 
greater  army  than  the  former,  and  fitted  out  a  new 
fleet.  The  |>eople  of  Corcyra,  finding  it  would  he 
impossible  for  them  to  make  head  alone  against  such 
powerful  enemies,  sent  to  the  Athenians  to  desire 
their  alliance.  The  treaty  of  peace  concluded  be- 
tween the  states  of  Greece,  left  such  Grecian  cities  as 
had  not  declared  themselves  on  either  side,  the  liber- 
ty  of  joining  whom  they  pleased,  or  of  standing  neu- 
ler.  This  the  Corcyrenns  had  hitherto  done,  judging 
it  their  interest  not  to  espouse  any  party;  in  conse- 
quence of  which  they  had  hitherto  been  without  allies. 
They  now  sent  for  this  purpose  to  Athens;  and  the 
Corinthians  hearing  of  it,  sent  deputies  thither  also 
on  their  part.  The  aftair  was  debated  with  great 
warmth  in  the  presence  of  the  people,  who  heard  the 
reasons  on  both  sides,  and  it  was  twice  discussed  in  the 
assembly.  The  Athenians  declared  the  first  time  in 
favour  of  the  Corinthians;  but  afterwards  changing 
their  opinion  (doubtless  in  consequence  of  trje  remon- 
strances of  Pericles,)  they  received  the  Corcyreans 
into  their  alliance.  However,  they  did  not  po  so  far 
a«  to  conclude  a  league  offensive  and  defensive  with 
them  (for  they  could  not  declare  war  against  Corinth 
without  breaking  at  the  same  time  with  all  Pelopon- 

i  Tl.ucyd.  I.  i.  p.  17— ST.     Died.  I.  xii.  p.  00—93.     Plut. 
lit  Portel.  |>.  167. 
•  Tlim  city  WM  aflcrwirdi  called  Dyrrachium. 


nesus,)  but  only  agreed  to  succour  each  other  rnu 
tually,  in  case  they  should  be  attacked,  »-ither  in  llieif 
own  person  or  in  that  of  their  allies.  Their  real  -le 
sign  was,  to  set  those  two  states,  whijh  were  vtn 
powerful  by  sea,  at  variance;  and  after  each  should 
have  exhausted  the  other  by  a  tedious  war,  to  tri- 
umph over  the  weakest;  for  at  that  time  there  were 
but  three  states  in  Greece  who  possessed  powerful 
fleets;  and  these  were  Athens,  Corinth,  and  Corcvra. 
They  «lso  had  a  design  on  Italy  and  Sicily,  which 
their  taking  the  island  of  Corcyra  would  very  much 
promote. 

On  this  plan  they  concluded  an  alliance  with  the 
Corcvreans,  and  accordingly  sent  them  ten  <;:tllfy», 
but  with  an  order  for  them  not  to  engage  the  Coi  m- 
thians,  unless  they  should  first  invade  the  island  of 
Corcyra,  or  some  other  place  belonging  to  their  allies; 
this  precaution  was  used,  in  order  that  the  articles  of 
the  truce  might  not  be  infringed. 

But  it  was  very  dillicult  to  obey  these  orders.  A 
battle  was  fought  between  the  Corcyreans  mid  the 
Corinthians,  near  the  island  of  Sybota,  opposite  to 
Corcyra:  it  WHS  one  of  the  most  considerable,  with 
regard  to  the  number  of  ships,  that  was  ever  (ought 
between  the  Greeks.  The  advantage  wa=.  nearly 
equal  on  both  sides.  About  the  end  of  the  battle,  as 
night  was  drawing  on,  twenty  Athenian  galleys  came 
up.  The  Corcyreans,  with  this  reinforcement,  sailed 
next  day  by  day-break  towards  the  port  of  S\  hota, 
whither  the  Corinthians  had  retired,  to  see  it  they 
would  venture  a  second  engagement.  However,  the 
lutter  contented  themselves  with  sailing  out  in  order 
of  battle,  without  fighting.  Both  parties  erected  a 
trophy  in  the  island  of  Sybota,  each  ascribi.ig  the  vic- 
tory to  themselves. 

From  this  war  arose  another,*  which  occasioned  an 
open  rupture  between  the  Athenians  and  Corinthians, 
and  afterwards  the  war  of  Peloponnesus.  Polidiea, 
a  city  of  Macedonia,  was  a  colony  belonging  to  the 
Corinthians,  who  sent  magistrates  thither  annually; 
but  it  was  dependent  at  that  time  on  Athens,  and  paio 
tribute  to  it.  The  Athenians  fearing  this  city  woula 
revolt,  and  prevail  with  the  rest  of  the  Thracian  al 
lies  to  join  them,  commanded  the  inhabitants  to  de- 
molish their  walls  on  the  side  next  Pallene ;  to  deliver 
hostages  to  them  as  sureties  for  their  fidelity;  and  to 
send  back  the  magistrates  which  Corinth  had  given 
them.  Demands  of  so  unjust  a  nature  only  hastened 
the  revolt.  The  Potidseans  declared  against  the  Athe- 
nians,4 and  several  neighbouring  cities  followed  their 
example.  Both  Athens  and  Corinth  took  up  arms 
and  st  nl  forces  thither.  The  two  armies  engaged 
near  Pot'nlaea,  and  that  of  the  Athenians  had  the  ad- 
vantage. Alcibiacles,  who  wax  then  very  young,  and 
Socrates  his  master,  signalized  themselves  on  this  oc- 
casion. It  is  something  very  singular,  to  see  a  philo- 
sopher put  on  his  coat  of  mail ;  as  well  as  to  consider 
his  behaviour  and  conduct  in  a  battle.  Then-  was 
not  a  «olilier  in  the  whole  army  who  so  ri-soliiUiy 
supported  all  the  toils  and  fatigues  of  the  campaign  as 
Socrates.  Hunger,  thirst,  and  cold,  were  enemies  he 
had  long  accustomed  himself  to  despise  and  subdue 
with  ease.  Thrace,  the  scene  of  this  expedition,  was 
a  frozen  region.  Whilst  the  other  soldiers,  covered 
with  thick  clothes  and  warm  furs,  lay  close  in  their 
tents,  and  scarce  ever  dared  to  stir  out  of  them;  So- 
crates used  to  come  into  the  open  air  clad  as  usual 
and  barefooted.  His  gayety  and  wit  were  the  life  of 
the  table;  and  induced  others  to  pass  the  glass  round 
cheerfully,  though  he  himself  never  drank  wine  to 
excess.  When  the.  armies  engaged  he  performed 
his  duty  wonderfully  well.  Alcibiades  having  been 
thrown  down  and  wounded,  Socrates  placed  himself 
before  him,  defended  him  valiantly,  and,  in  siijht  of 
the  whole  army,  prevented  him  and  his  arms  from 
being  taken  by  the  enemy.  The  prize  of  valour  wa§ 
justly  due  to  Socrates;  but  as  the  generals  seemed 
inclined  to  decree  it  to  Alcibiades,  on  account  of  his 
illustrious  birth;  Socrates,  who  only  sought  for  op- 
portunities to  inflame  him  with  a  de«ire  of  true  glory, 

»  Thucyd.  1.  i.  p.  37—42.     Diod.  I.  xii.  p.  93,  94 

«  Plut.  in.  Convi*.  p.  219,  320.    Plut.  in  Alcib.  p  194 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


289 


contributed  more  than  any  other  person,  by  the  no- 
b»e  eulogi'im  he  made  on  his  courage,  to  cause  the 
crown  and  complete  suit  of  armour  (wliirh  was  the 
prize  of  valour)  to  be  adjudged  to  Alcibiades. 

^Notwithstanding  the  loss  which  the  Corinthians  had 
•Detained  in  the  battle,  the  inhabitants  of  Potidaea  did 
uot  change  their  conduct.  The  city  was  therefore 
I.  The  Corinthians,1  fearin»  to  lose  a  place 
of  to  much  importance,  addressed  their  allies  in  the 
strongest  terms;  who  all,  in  conjunction  with  them, 
lent  a  deputation  to  Lhcedaemon",  to  complain  of  the 
Athenians,  as  having  infringed  the  articles  of  peace. 
Th«  Lpcedsemonians  admitted  them  to  audience  in 
one  >(  their  ordinary  assemblies.  The  people  of  jEgi- 
na,  though  v«-ry  much  disgusted  at  the  Athenians,  did 
not  send  a  deputation  publicly  thither  for  fear  of  giv- 
ing umbrage  to  a  republic  to  which  they  were  subject, 
but  they  acted  in  secret  as  strenuously  as  the  rest. 
The  people  of  Megara  complained  vehemently  against 
the  Athenian*,  that  (contrary  to  the  law  of  nations, 
and  in  prejudice  to  the  treaty  concluded  between  the 
Greek*)  they  had  prohibited  them  by  a  public  decree 
from  access  to  their  fairs  and  markets,  and  excluded 
them  from  all  the  ports  dependent  on  them.  By  that 
decree,*  according  to  Plutarch.S  the  Athenians  de- 
clared an  eternal  and  irreconcileable  hatred  against 
Megara;  and  ordained  that  all  Megarians  should  be 
put  to  death  that  set  foot  in  Athens:  and  that  all  the 
Athenian  generals,  when  they  took  the  u«ual  oath, 
thould  swear  expressly,  that  they  would  send  a  body 
of  soldiers  twice  a  year,  to  lay  waste  the  territorie's 
of  that  hostile  citv. 

The  chief  complaints  were  made  by  the  Corinthian 
ambassador,  who  spoke  with  the  utmost  force  and 
freedom.  He  represented  to  the  Lacedaemonians, 
that  as  they  themselves  never  swerved  from  the  most 
inviolable  integrity,  either  in  public  or  private  trnn- 
lactions,  they  for  that  very  reason,  were  less  inclined 
to  suspect  tfie  probity  of  others:  and  that  their  own 
moderation  prevented  their  discovering  the  ambition 
of  thiir  enemies:  that  insteid  of  flying,  with  readiness 
and  activity,  to  meet  dangers  a'nd  calamities,  they 
never  attempted  to  renxedy  them,  till  they  were  quite 
crushed  b\  them:  that  by  their  indolence" and  supine- 
ness,  they  ha  i  given  the  Athenians  an  opportunity  of 
attaining,  by  insensible  degrees,  their  present  hei'ght 
of  grandeur  and  power:  that  it  was  quite  different 
with  regard  to  the  Athenians:  "  that  this  active,  vigi- 
lant, and  indefatigable  people,  were  never  at  rest 
themselves,  nor  would  suffer  any  other  nation  to  be 
to.  Employed,"  says  he,  "wholly  in  their  projects, 
and  they  form  none  but  such  as  a're  great  and  bold, 
thtir  deliberations  are  speedy,  and  their  execution  the 
tame.  One  enterprise  serves  only  as  a  step  to  a  se- 
cond. Whether  they  are  success'ful  or  unfortunate, 
they  turn  every  thing  to  their  advantage;  and  never 
•top  in  their  career,  nor  are  discouraged.  But  you, 
ivho  are  opposed  by  such  formidable  enemies,  are 
lulled  asleep  in  a  fatal  tranquillity;  nnd  do  not  reflect 
that  it  is  not  sufficient  for  a  man  who  desires  to  live 
at  ea»e  merely  to  forbear  injuring  others,  he  must 
also  hinder  any  one  from  injuring  him;  and  that  jus- 
tice consist8,  not  only  in  forbearing  to  commit  evil 
our«rlve«,  but  in  aTenging  that  done  to  us  bv  others. 
Shall  I  be  so  free  as  t.->  say  it?  Your  integrity  is  of 
too  antique  a  cast  for  the  present  state  of  affairs.  It  is 
necessary  for  men  in  politics,  as  well  as  in  all  other 
things,  to  conform  always  to  times  and  circumstances. 
When  people  are  at  peace  they  may  follow  their  an- 
cient maxims;  but  when  they  are  involved  in  a  vari- 
ety of  difficultie*.  they  must  try  new  expedients,  and 
•et  every  engine  at  work  to  extricate  themselves.  It 


t  Thneyd.  I.  i.  p  4.1— 59.  »  Pint,  in  Pericl.  p  Ifia 

•  According  In  Plutarch,  some  pernon.  pretended  that  Pe- 
r1cl(>«  had  caused  this  decree  to  be  ennrted,  to  reroute  the 
O'irate  injury  dune  to  Acpasia,  from  whcww  house  the  people 
i  had  carried  off  two  courtezan*;  am)  he  rilensome 
verses  of  Aristophanes,  who,  in  a  comedy  entitled  the  Jleliar. 
«»ai«n,«,  reproachi-s  Pericles  with  thit  action  But  Thucy- 
iiAr^.  a  contemporary  author,  who  wa«  Terr  well  acquainted 
With  all  the  transactions  of  Athens,  doei  not  «av  n  word  of 
this  affair;  and  he  i*  rnnr.h  more  worthy  of  belief  than  a 
poet  who  was  a  profened  ilanderer  and  satirist. 
VOL.  I.— 37 


i*  by  these  arts  that  the  Athenians  have  ncreaseo 
their  power  so  much.  Had  you  imitated  thi-ir  activ- 
ity, they  would  not  have  dispossessed  us  of  Corey  ra, 
and  would  not  now  be  laying  siege  to  Potidaea.  Pol- 
low,  at  least  on  this  occasion,  their  example,  by  suc- 
couring the  Potidaeans  and  the  rest  of  your  allies,  a» 
your  duty  obliges  you;  and  do  not  force  your  friends 
and  neighbours,  bv  forsaking  them,  to  have  recourse, 
through  despair,  to  other  powers." 

The  Athenian  ambassador,  who  was  come  to  Sparta 
upon  other  affairs,  and  was  in  the  assembly,  did  not 
think  it  advisable  to  let  this  speech  go  unanswered. 
He  put  the  Lacedaemonians  in  mind,  of  the  .till  re- 
cent services  that  the  republic,  by  which  he  was  sent, 
had  done  to  all  Greece,  which  (he  said)  merited  some 
regard;  and  that  therefore  it  ought  not  to  be  envied, 
much  less  should  endeavours  be  used  to  lessen  it* 
power:  that  the  Athenians  could  not  be  charged  with 
having  usurped  an  empire  over  Greece;  since  it  wa» 
...erely  at  the  entreaty  of  their  allies,  and  in  some 
measure  with  the  consent  of  Sparta,  that  they  had 
been  forced  to  take  the  abandoned  helm:  that  those 
who  murmured,  did  it  without  grounds  ;  and  only 
from  the  aversion  which  mankind  in  general  nave  to 
dependence  and  subjection,  though  of  the  gentlest 
and  most  equitable  kind:  that  he  exhorted  them  to 
employ  a  sufficient  time  in  deliberating,  before  they 
came  to  a  resolution;  and  not  involve  themselves  and 
all  Greece  in  a  war,  which  would  necessarily  be  at- 
tended with  the  most  fatal  consequences:  that  gentle 
methods  might  be  found  for  terminating1  the  differ- 
ences of  the  allies,  without  breaking  at  once  into  open 
violence.  However,  that  the  Athenians,  in  case  of  an 
invasion,  were  able  to  oppose  force  with  force;  and 
would  prepare  for  a  vigorous  defence,  after  having 
invoked,  against  Sparta,  the  deities  who  take  ven- 
geance of  those  that  forswear  themselves,  and  violate 
the  faith  of  treaties. 

The  ambassadors  being  withdrawn,  and  the  affair 
debated,  the  majority  were  for  war.  But  before  the 
final  resolution  was  passed,  Archidamus,  king  of 
Sparta,  setting  himself  above  those  prejudices  which 
so  strongly  biassed  the  rest,  and  directing  his  view* 
to  futurity,  made  a  speech  in  which  he  set  forth  the 
dreadful  consequences  of  the  war  in  which  they  were 
going  to  embark;  showed  the  strength  and  resources 
of  the  Athenians;  exhorted  them  first  to  try  gentle 
methods,  which  they  themselves  had  seemed  to  ap- 
prove; but  to  make,  in  the  mean  time,  the  necessary 
preparations  for  carrying  on  so  important  an  enter- 
prise, and  not  to  be  under  any  apprehensions,  that 
their  moderation  and  delays  would  be  brand*  d  with 
the  name  of  cowardice,  since  their  past  actions  secured 
them  from  any  suspicion  of  that  kind. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  these  wise  expostulation! 
a  war  was  resolved.  The  people  caused  the  allies  to 
return  into  the  assembly,  and  declared  to  them,  that 
in  their  opinion  the  Athenians  were  the  aggressors; 
but  that  it  would  be  expedient  first  to  assemble  all 
who  were  in  the  alliance,  in  order  that  peace  or  war 
might  be  agreed  upon  unanimously.  This  decree  of 
the  Lacedaemonians  was  made  in  the  fourteenth  year 
of  the  truce;  and  was  not  owing  so  much  to  the  com- 
plaint of  the  allies,  as  to  the  jealousy  of  the  Athenian 
power,  which  had  already  subjected  a  considerable 
part  of  Greece. 

Accordingly  the  allies  were  convened  a  second 
time.*  They  all  gave  their  rotes  in  their  several 
turns,  from  the  greatest  city  to  the  least,  and  war 
was  resolved  by  general  consent.  However,  as  thev 
had  not  yet  made  any  preparations,  it  was  judged  ad- 
visable to  begin  them  immediately;  and  while  this 
was  doing,  in  order  to  gain  time,  ami  observe  the  ne- 
cessary formalities,  to  send  ambassadors  to  Athens, 
to  complain  of  the  violation  of  the  treaty. 

The  first  who  were  sent  thither,  reviving  an  old 
complaint,  required  of  the  Athenians  to  expel  from 
their  city  the  descendants  of  those  who  had  profaned 
the  temple  of  Minerva  in  the  affair  of  Cylon.*  A* 


*  Thpeyd.  1.  i.  p.  74—84.  93. 

•  This  Pylon  had  »eiied  on  the  citadel  of  A  then*  aHor» 
100  year*  before.    Those  who  followed  him,  being  betie£«4 


2C»0 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Pericles  was  of  that  familv  by  the  mother's  side,  the 
view  of  the  Lacedfemoniaiis,  in  making  tliis  demand, 
was,  either  to  procure  his  banishment  or  lessen  his 
authority.  However,  it  was  not  complied  with.  The 
second  ambassadors  required,  that  the  siege  of  Poti- 
daea  should  be  raised,  and  the  liberty  of  .(Egina  re- 
stored; and  above  all,  that  the  decree  against  the 
Megarians  should  be  repealed;  declaring,  that  other- 
wise no  accommodation  could  take  place.  In  fine,  n 
third  embassy  came,  who  took  no  notice  of  any  of 
these  particulars,  but  only  said,  that  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians were  for  peace:  but  that  this  could  never  be, 
except  the  Athenians  should  cease  to  infringe  the  li- 
berties of  Greece. 

SECTION   XIV.— TROUBLES    EXCITED   AGAINST 

PERICLES.  HE  DETERMINES  THE  ATHENIANS 
TO  ENGAGE  IN  WAR  AGAINST  THE  LACEDAEMO- 
NIANS. 

PFRICLES  opposed  all  these  demands  with  great 
vigour,1  and  especially  that  relating  to  the  Megarians. 
He  had  great  influence  at  Athens,  but  at  the  same 
time  had  many  enemies.  Not  daring  to  attack  him 
at  first  in  person,  they  cited  his  most  intimate  friends, 
and  those  for  whom  he  had  the  greatest  esteem,  as 
Phidias,  Aspasia,  and  Anaxagoras,  before  the  people; 
and  their  design  in  this  was,  to  sound  how  the  people 
stood  affected  towards  Pericles  himself. 

Phidias  was  accused  of  having  embezzled  consid- 
erable sums  in  the  forming  the  statue  of  Minerva, 
which  was  his  master-piece.  The  prosecution  having 
been  carried  on  with  the  usual  forms,  before  the  as- 
sembly of  the  people,  not  a  single  proof  of  Phidias's 
pretended  embezzlement  appeared :  for  that  artist, 
from  the  time  of  his  beginning  that  statue,  had  by  Pe- 
ricles's  advice,  contrived  the  workmanship  of  the  gold 
in  such  a  manner,  that  all  of  it  might  be  taken  ofl  and 
weighed;  which  accordingly  Pericles  bid  the  inform- 
ers do  in  presence  of  all  the  spectators.  But  Phidias 
had  witnesses  against  him,  the  truth  of  whose  evi- 
dence he  could  neither  dispute  nor  silence;  these  were 
the  fame  and  beauty  of  his  works,  the  ever-existing 
causes  of  the  envy  which  attacked  him.  The  cir- 
cumstance which  they  could  least  forgive  in  him  was, 
his  having  represented  to  the  life  (in  the  battle  of  the 
\mazons,  engraved  on  the  shield  of  the  goddess)  his 
own  person,  and  that  of  Pericles:*  and,  by  an  imper- 
ceptible art,  he  had  «o  blended  and  incorporated  these 
figures  with  the  whole  work,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
erase  them,  without  disfiguring  and  taking  to  pieces 
the  whole  statue.  Phidias  was  therefore  dragged  to 
prison,  where  he  came  to  his  end,  either  by  the  com- 
mon course  of  nature  or  by  poison.  Other  authors 
say,  that  he  was  only  banished,  and  that  after  his  ex- 
ile he  made  the  famous  statue  of  Jupiter  at  Olympia. 
It  is  not  possible  to  excuse,  in  any  manner,  the  in- 
gratitude of  the  Athenians,  in  thus  making  a  prison  or 
death  the  reward  of  a  master-piece  of  art;  nor  their 
excessive  rigour  in  punishing,  as  a  capital  crime,  an 
action  that  appears  innocent  in  itself;  or  which,  to 
make  the  worst  of  it,  was  a  vanity  very  pardonable,  in 
an  arti<t. 

Aspasia.  a  native  of  Miletus  in  Asia,  had  settled  in 
Athens,  where  she  had  become  very  famous,  not  so 
much  for  the  charms  of  her  person,  as  for  her  vivacity 
and  the  solidity  of  her  wit,  and  her  great  knowledge. 
AH  the  illustrious  men  in  the  city  thought  it  an  hon- 
our to  frequent  her  house.  Socrates  himself  used  to 
visit  her  constantly  ;3  and  was  not  ashamed  to  pass 
for  her  pupil,  and  to  own  that  he  had  learned  rhetoric 
from  her.  Pericles  declared  also  that  he  was  indebted 
to  Aspasia  for  his  eloquence,  which  so  greatly  distin- 
guished him  in  Athens;  and  that  it  wag  from  her  con- 
versation he  had  imbibed  the  principles  of  the  art  of 

in  it,  and  reduced  to  extreme  famine,  fled  for  shelter  to  the 
temple  of  Minerva,  from  whence  they  afterwards  were  taken 
•ut  by  force  and  cut  to  pieces.  Thore  who  adviied  thin 
murdnr  were  declared  guilty  of  impiety  and  sacrilege,  and 
»*  »ach  banished.  However,  they  were  recalled  »ome  time 
•tor. 

•  Plut.  in  Pericl.  p.  108,  109. 

•  \ristot.  in  fractal,  de  round,  p.  013. 

•  Plat,  in  Menex.  p.  235. 


policy,  for  she  was  exceedingly  well  verseu  in  lto« 
maxims  of  government.  Thtir  intimacy  was  owin^  10 
still  stronger  motives.  Pericles  did  not  love  his  wife 
he  resigned  her  very  freely  to  another  man,  and  sup- 
plied her  place  with  Aspasia,  whom  he  loved  passion- 
ately, though  her  reputation  was  more  than  suspi- 
cious. Aspasia  was  accused  of  impiety  and  a  dissolute 
conduct;  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that 
Pericles  saved  her,  by  his  entreaties,  and  by  the  com- 
passion he  raised  in  the  Judges,  by  shedding  abund- 
ance of  tears  whilst  her  cause  was  pleading;  a  beha- 
viour little  consistent  with  the  dignity  of  his  character 
and  the  rank  of  supreme  head  of  the  most  powerful 
state  of  Greece. 

A  decree  had  passed,  by  which  informations  were 
ordered  to  be  laid  against  all  such  persons  as  denied 
what  was  ascribed  to  the  ministry  of  the  gods;*  or 
those  philosopher?  and  others  who  gave  lessons  on  the 
more  abstruse  points  of  physics,  and  the  motions  of 
the  heavens,  topics  which  were  considered  injurious 
to  the  established  religion.  Thescrpeand  aim  of  this 
decree  was,  to  make  Pericles  suspected  with  regard 
to  these  matters,  because  Anaxagoras  had  been  his 
master.  This  philosopher  taught,  that  one  only  In- 
telligence had  modified  the  chaos,  and  disposed  the 
universe  in  the  beautiful  order  in  which  we  now  sea 
it;  which  tended  directly  to  depreciate  the  gods  of 
the  Pagan  system.  Pericles  thinking  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  him  to  save  his  life,  sent  him  out  of  the 
city  to  a  place  of  safety. 

The  enemies  of  Pericles  seeing  that  the  people  ap- 
proved and  received  with  pleasure  all  these  accusa- 
tions, impeached  that  great  man  himself,  and  charged 
him  with  embezzling  the  public  moneys  during  his  ad 
ministration.  A  decree  was  made,  by  which  Pericles 
was  obliged  to  give  in  immediately  his  accounts;  wai 
to  be  tried  for  peculation  and  rapine;  and  the  cause 
to  be  adjudged  by  1500  judges.  Pericles  had  no  real 
cause  for  fear,  because  in  the  administration  of  the 
public,  affairs  his  conduct  had  always  been  irreproach- 
able; especially  on  the  side  of  interest;  he  could  not 
however  but  lie  under  some  apprehensions  from  the 
ill  will  of  the  people,  when  he  considered  their  great 
levity  and  inconstancy.  One  day  when  Alcibiades 
(then  very  young)  went  to  visit  Pericles,  he  was  told 
that  he  was  not  to  be  spoken  with,  because  of  some 
affairs  of  great  consequence  in  which  he  was  then  en- 
gaged. Alcibiades  inquiring  what  these  mighty  affain 
were,  was  answered,  that  Pericles  was  preparing  to 
give  in  his  accounts.  "  He  ought  rather,"  says  Alci- 
biades, "  to  think  how  he  may  avoid  giving  them  in:" 
and  indeed  this  is  what  Pericles  at  last  resolved.  To 
allay  the  storm,  he  made  a  resolution  to  oppose  the 
inclination  the  people  discovered  for  the  Peloponne- 
sian  war  no  longer,  preparations'  for  which  had  been 
long  carrying  on,  firmly  persuaded  that  this  would 
soon  silence  all  complaints  against  him;  that  envy 
would  yield  to  a  more  powerful  motive;  and  that  the 
citizens  when  in  such  imminent  danger,  would  not  fail 
of  throwing  themselves  into  his  arms,  and  submit  im- 
plicitly to  his  conduct,  from  his  great  power  and  ex- 
alted reputation. 

This  is  what  some  historians  have  related  ;5  and  the 
comic  poets  in  the  lifetime,  and  under  the  eye,  as  it 
were,  of  Pericles,  spread  a  report  in  public,  to  sully, 
if  possible,  his  reputation  nntl  merit,  which  drew  upon 
him  the  envy  and  enmity  of  many.  Plutarch  on  this 
occasion  makes  a  reflection  which  may  be  of  great 
service,  not  only  to  those  in  the  administration  of 
public  affairs,  but  to  all  sorts  of  persons,  as  well  nt 
of  advantage  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life.  He 
thinks  it  strange,  when  actions  are  good  in  them- 
selves, and  as  far  as  can  be  judged  from  external,  ap- 
pearance, laudable  in  all  respects,  that  men  purely  to 
discredit  illustrious  personages,  should  pretend  to  dive 
into  their  hearts;  and  from  a  spirit  of  the  vilest  and 

4   T*    $il»  ft*   »o^ifo»T«{.  l|  *.iyouc    irtfl    Tuv   ftlrxfaiat* 

JiJio-itovTKt.  Anaxagorix,  teaching  that  the  divine  Intelli- 
gence alone  gave  a  regular  motion  to  all  the  part*  of  nature 
and  presided  in  the  government  of  the  universe  ;  destroyed, 
by  that  nvstern,  the  plurality  of  pods,  thair  powers,  «nd  aU 
the  peculiar  function?  which  wr re  ascribed  to  them. 
'  Plut.  de  Herod,  malign,  p.  855,  856. 


TERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


most  abject  malignity,  should  ascribe  such  view*  and 
intentions  to  them,  as  they  probably  never  so  much 
BS  imagined.  He,  on  the  contrary, "wishes,  when  the 
motive  is  obscure,  and  the  same 'action  may  be  con- 
§idered  in  different  lights,  that  men  would  always 
view  it  in  the  most  favourable,  and  incline  to  judge 
candidly  of  it.  He  applies  this  maxim  to  the  reports 
which  had  been  spread  concerning  Pericles,  as  the 
fomenterofthe  Peloponnesian  war,  merely  for  private 
and  interested  views;  whereas,  the  whole  tenor  of 
his  past  conduct  outfit  to  have  convinced  every  body, 
that  it  was  wholly  from  reasons  of  state,  and'for  th'e 
good  of  the  public,  that  he  at  last  acquiesced  in  an 
opinit  n.  which  he  had  hitherto  thought  it  incumbent 
on  him  to  oppose. 

Whilst  this  affair  was  carrying  on  at  Athens,1  the 
Lacedaemonians  sent  several  "embassies  thither,  one 
after  another,  to  make  the  various  demands  above 
mentioned.  At  la«t  the  affair  was  debated  in  the  as- 
sembly of  the  people,  and  it  was  resolved  they  should 
first  deliberate  upon  all  the  articles,  before  they  gave 
a  positive  answer.  Opinions,  as  is  USUH!  in  these  ca- 
ses, were  divided;  and  some  were  for  abolishine  the 
decree  enacted  against  Megara,  which  seemed  the 
chief  obstacle  to  a  peaoe. 

Pericles  spoke  on  this  occasion  with  a  force  of  elo- 
quence, which  his  virw  to  the  public  welfare,  and 
the  honour  of  his  country,  rendered  more  vehement 
and  triumphant  than  it  had  ever  appeared  before.  He 
showed,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  decree  relating  to 
Megara,  on  which  the  greatest  stress  was  laid,  was 
not  of  so  little  consequence  as  they  imagined :  that 
the  demand  made  by  the  Lacedemonians  on  that  head 
was  merely  to  sound  the  disposition  of  the  Athenians, 
and  to  try  whether  it  would  be  possible  to  encroach 
upon  them  by  frightening  them:  that  should  they  re- 
rede  on  this  occasion,  it  would  betray  fear  and  weak- 
ness: that  the  affair  was  of  less  importance  than  the 
giving  up  to  the  Lacedaemonians  the  empire  which 
the  Athenians  had  possessed  during  so  many  years,  by 
their  courage  and  resolution:  that  should" the  Athe- 
nians give  way  on  this  point,  the  Lacedaemonians 
would  immediately  prescribe  new  laws  to  them,  as  to 
a  people  seized  with  dread;  whereas,  if  they  made  a 
vigorous  resistance,  their  onponents  would  be  obliged 
to  treat  tiiem  at  least,  on  the  foot  of  equals:  that  with 
regard  to  the  present  matters  in  dispute,  arbiters 
might  be  rhosen.  in  order  to  adjust  them  in  an  amica- 
ble way  ;  but  that  it  did  not  become  the  Lacedaemoni- 
ans to  command  the  Athenians  with  a  magisterial  air, 
to  quit  Pntidsea,  to  free  .Cjjina,  and  revoke  the  decree 
relating  to  Mearara:  that  such  imperious  behaviour 
was  directly  contrary  to  the  treaty,  which  declared  in 
express  terms,  Thitt  should  any  disputes  arise  am  on  f 
the  allies,  they  should  be  decided  fey  pacific  methods, 
AND  WITHorT  ANY  PARTY'S  PK1NG  OBLIGED  TO 
GTVF  T'l'  ANY  TAUT  OF  WHAT  THKY  PTSSFSSFD  : 
that  the  surest  way  to  prevent  a  government  from  be- 
ing1 etornally  contestins  about  its  possessions,  is  to 
take  uit  arm«,  and  dispute  its  risrhts  sword  in  hand: 
that  the  Athenians  had  just  reason  to  believe  they 
would  gain  their  cause  this  way:  and  to  give  them  a 
stronger  i'lea  of  this  truth,  he  set  before  them  a  most 
brilliant  description  of  the  present  state  of  Athens, 
giving  a  very  particular  account  of  its  treasures,  reve- 
nues, fleets.  land  as  well  as  sea  forces,  and  those  of 
its  allies;  contrasting  these  several  resources  with  the 
poverty  of  the  T^ceda?monians,  who  (he  said)  had  no 
money,  which  is  the  sinews  of  war,  not  to  mention 
the  poor  condition  of  their  navy,  on  which  success  in 
war  most  depended.  And  indeed.*  there  were  at  that 
time  in  the  pnhlir  treasury,  which  the  Athenians  had 
brought  from  Delos  to  their  city.  9600  talents,  which 
auviiint  to  about  l,200.000f.  sterling.  The  annual 
ccntriliulions  of  the  allies  amounted  to  460  talents, 
that  is,  to  near  1,400,000  French  livres.  In  cases  of 
necessity,  the  Athenians  would  find  infinite  resources' 

i  Thurvd.  I.  i.  p   93-97.     Diod.  1.  xii.  p.  95-97. 

»  Pi.K)   1   xii.  p  06.07. 

»  [The  Athenian  revenue*  conninteH  of,  1.  Contribution* 
from  tli«  nllie*,  which  amounted  tu  TOO  talents  in  the  (tars 
of  AlcihiaHes.  2.  Customs  at  the  rme  of  2  per  cent,  on  im- 
ports  and  experts,  which  yielded  36  talcnu.  3.  CounVationi 


in  the  ornaments  of  the  temples,  since  those  of  th« 
statue  of  Minerva  alone  amounted  to  fiftv  talents  of 
gold,  that  is,  1,500.000  French  livres,  which  might  b« 
taken  from  the  statue  without  spoiling  it,  and  be  after- 
wards fixed  on  again  in  more  auspicious  times.  With 
regard  to  the  land  forces,  they  amounted  to  very  near 
30,000  men,  and  the  fleet  consisted  of  300  galleys. 
Above  all,  he  advised  them  not  to  venture  a  battle  in 
their  own  country  against  the  Peloponnesians,  whose 
troops  were  superior  in  number  to  theirs;  not  to  re- 
jrard  the  laying  waste  of  their  lands,  as  they  might 
easily  be  restored  to  their  former  condition;  but  to 
consider  the  loss  of  their  men  as  highly  important, 
because  irretrievable;  to  make  their  whole  policy  con- 
sist in  defending  their  city,  and  preserving  the  empire 
of  the  sea,  which  would  certainly  one  day  give  them 
the  superiority  over  their  enemies.  He  laid  down  the 
plan  for  carrying  on  the  war,  not  for  a  single  cam- 
paign, but  during  the  whole  time  it  might  last;  and 
enumerated  the  evils  they  had  to  fear,  if  they  deviated 
from  that  system.  Pericles,  alter  adding  other  con- 
siderations, taken  from  (he  character  and  internal  go- 
vernment of  the  two  republics;  the  one  uncertain  and 
fluctuating  in  its  deliberations,  and  rendered  still 
slower  in  the  execution,  from  its  being  obliged  to  wait 
for  the  consent  of  its  allies;  the  other  speedy,  deter- 
minate, independent,  and  ^mistress  of  its  resolutions, 
which  is  no  indifferent  circumstance  with  regard  to 
the  success  of  enterprises;  Pericles,  I  sav,  concluded 
his  speech,  and  gave  his  opinion  as  follows:  "We 
have  no  more  to  do  but  to  dismiss  the.  ambassadors, 
and  to  give  them  this  answer:  That  we  permit  those 
of  Megara  to  trade,  with  Athens,  upon  condition  that 
the  Facedaemonians  do  not  prohibit  either  us,  or  our 
allies,  to  trade  with  them.  VVith  regard  to  the  cities 
of  Greece,  we  shall  leave  those  free  who  were  so  at 
the  time  of  our  agreement,  provided  they  -.hall  do  the 
same  with  regard  to  those  dependent  on  them.  We 
do  not  refuse  to  submit  the  decision  of  our  differences 
to  arbitration,  and  will  not  commit  the  first  hfjstili- 
ties:  however,  in  case  of  being  attacked,  we  shall 
make  a  vigorous  defence." 

The  ambassadors  were  answered  as  Pericles  had 
dictated.  They  returned  home,  and  never  came  again 
to  Athens;  soon  after  which  the  Pelopounesian  war 
broke  out, 


CHAPTER  II. 

TRANSACTIONS  OF  THE   GREEKS  IN   SICILY   AND 
ITALY. 

As  the  Peloponnesian  war  is  a  great  erent,  of  con- 
siderable duration,  before  I  enter  upon  the  history  of 
it,  it  may  be  proper  to  relate,  in  a  few  words,  the  most 
consider  ble  transactions  which  had  happened  in  Grae- 
cia  Major,  to  the  time  we  now  speak  of,  whether  in 
Sicily  or  Italy. 

SECTION  L— THE  CARTHAGINIANS  ARE  DEFEAT- 
ED IN  SICILY.  THERON,  TYRANT  CF  AGR1GEN- 
TUM.  REIGN  OF  GELON  IN  SYRACUSE,  AND  HIS 
TWO  BROTHERS.  LIBERTY  IS  RESTORED. 

I.  Gelon. 

WE    have    seen    that    Xerxes,* 
whose   project   tended    to  no   less  A.  M.  3520. 

than  the  total  extirpation  of  the  Ant.  J.  C.  484. 
Greeks,  had  prevailed  with  the 
Carthaginians  to  make  war  against  the  people  of  Sici- 
ly. They  crossed  over  thither  with  an  army  of  above 
300.000  men.  and  a  fleet  of  2000  ships,  and  upwards 
of  3000  transports.  Hamilcar,  the  ablest  of  the  Car- 
thaginian generals  at  that  time,  was  charged  with  this 
expedition.  However,  the  success  was  not  answera- 
ble to  these  mighty  preparations;  the  Carthaginians 


uf  tho  property  of  individuals.  4.  Rents  and  produce  o< 
mine*  and  marble  quarri»n.  5.  Capital  inn  tax  on  the  Mttmkti 
or  strangers  permanently  nettle. 1  in  the  city.  Xcnophon 
entimaten  the  whole  «t  1.000  talent*,  or  SJG.'OfKU.  tterlaf 
H'alpole's  Memoirs  on  Europtm*  Turkey,  p.  433.] 
«  Diod.  L  zi.  p.  1,  and  10— 28. 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


were  entirely  defeated  by  Gelon,  who  at  that  time 
hud  the  chief  authority  in  Syracuse. 

This  Gelon  was  born  in  a  city  of  Sicily,1  situated 
on  the  southern  const  between  Agrigentum  and  Ca- 
manna,  called  Gelas,  whence  perhaps  he  received  his 
name.  He  had  signalized  himself  very  much  in  the 
wars,  which  Hippocrates,  tyrant  of  Gela,  carried  on 
against  the  neighbouring  powers,  most  of  whom  he 
subdued,  and  was  very  near  taking  Syracuse.  After 
the  death  of  Hippocrates,  Gelon,  upon  pretence  of 
defending  the  rights  and  succession  of  the  tyrant's 
children,  took  up  arms  against  his  own  citizens,  and 
having  overcome  them  in  a  battle,  possessed  himself 
of  the  government  in  his  own  name.  Some  time  af- 
ter he  made  himself  master  also  of  Syracuse,  by  the 
assistance  of  some  exiles  whom  he  had  caused  to  re- 
turn into  it,  and  who  had  engaged  the  populace  to 
open  the  gates  of  ih»l  city  to  him.  He  then  gave 
Gela  to  Hiero  his  brother,  and  applied  himself  wholly 
in  extending  the  limits  of  the  territory  of  Svracuse, 
and  soon  rendered  himself  very  powerful.  We  may 
form  a  judgment  of  this  from  the  armv  which  he  of- 
fered the  Grecian  ambassadors.*  who  came  to  desire 
his  aid' against  the  king  of  Persia;  and  by  his  demand 
of  being  appointed  generalissimo  of  their  forces, 
which,  however  they  refused.  The  fear  he  was  in  at 
that  time,  of  being  soon  invaded  by  the  Carthagini- 
ans, was  the  chief  occasion  of  his  not  succouring  the 
Greeks.  He  showed  himself  to  be  a  crafty  politician 
hv  his  conduct;  and  when  new*  was  brought  him  of 
jferxes's  having  crossed  the  Hellespont,  he  sent  a 
trnsiy  person  with  rich  presents,  and  ordered  him  to 
wait  the  issue  of  the  first  battle,  and  in  case  Xerxes 
should  be  victtyrious,  to  pay  homage  to  him  in  his 
name,  otherwise  to  bring  back  the  money.  I  now 
return  to  the  Carthaginians. 

They  had  landed  in  Sicily  at  the  earnest  solicita- 
tions of  Terillus,  formerly  tyiant  of  Himera,  but  de- 
throned by  Theron.  another  tyrant,  who  reigned  at 
Agrigentum.  The  family  of  the  latter  was  one  of  the 
most  illustrious  of  all  Greece,  as  he  was  descended 
in  a  direct  line  from  Cadmus.  He  married  into  the 
family  which  at  that  time  ruled  at  Svracuse,  and 
which  consisted  of  four  brothers,  Gelon,  Hiero,  Po- 
lyzelus,  and  Thrasybulus.  He  married  his  daughter 
to  the  first,  and  himself  married  the  daughter  of  the 
third. 

Hamilcar  having  landed  at  Panormus,  began  by 
laying  siege  to  Himera.  Gelon  hasted  with  a  great 
army  to  the  succour  of  his  father-in-law;  when  uni- 
ting, they  defeated  the  Carthaginians.  This  was  per- 
haps the  most  complete  victory  ever  gained. 

The  battle  was  fought  the  same  day  with  that  of 
Thermopylae,3  the  circumstances  of  which  I  have  re- 
lated in  the  history  of  the  Carthaginians.  One  re- 
markable circumstance  in  the  conditions  of  the 
peace,*  which  Gelon  prescribed  to  the  conquered, 
was,  that  thev  should  cease  to  sacrifice  their  children 
to  the  god  Saturn;  which  shows,  at  the  same  time, 
the  cruelty  of  the  Carthaginians,  and  the  piety  of 
Gelon. 

The  spoils  won  on  this  occasion  were  of  immense 
value.  Gelon  allotted  the  greatest  part  of  them  for 
the  ornament  of  the  temple*  in  Syracuse.  They  also 
took  an  incredible  number  of  prisoners.  These  he 
shared,  with  the  utmost  equity,  with  his  allies,  who 
employed  them,  after  putting  irons  on  their  feet,  in 
cultivating  their  lands,  and  in  building  magnificent 
edifices,  as  well  for  the  ornament  as  the  utility  of  the 
cities.  Several  of  the  citizens  of  Agrigentum  had 
each  500  for  his  own  share. 


t  Herod   I   TII.  c.  153—167. 

*  Ho  promised  10  furnish  200  «liip*  and  30.000  men. 

«  llerudoiui  say*,  that  lhi»  battle  wa*  fought  the  lame  day 
with  that  of  Salamis,  which  <!'*•«  not  appear  10  probable. 
For  the  Greek*,  informed  of  Gelon'i  «urof!<.«e*,  entreated 
him  to  jurcour  thi-m  n^aiimt  Xor.xon.  which  they  would  not 
tiavr  -lone  after  the  bat'le  of  Salamin,  which  exalted  their 
courage  no  much,  that  after  thii  battle  they  imagined  them- 
•el»i-«  strong  enough  to  resist  their  enemiet.  and  to  put  an 
end  to  the  war,  to  their  own  advantage,  without  the  uiiit- 
ance  of  any  other  power. 

•  Plut.  in  Apoptb.  p.  172. 


Gelon,  after  so  glorious  a  victo- 
ry, far  from  growing  more  proud  A.  M.  35Z& 
and  haughty,  behaved  with  greater  Ant.  J.  C.  47**. 
affability  and  humanity  than  ever 
towards  the  citizens  snd  his  allies.  Being  returned 
from  the  campaign,  he  convened  the  assembly  of  the 
Syracusans,  who  were  ordered  to  come  armed  into  it 
However,  he  himself  came  unarmed  thither:  declared 
to  the  assembly  every  circumstance  of  his  conduct, 
the  uses  to  which  he  had  applied  the  several  suir.s 
with  which  he  had  been  intrusted,  and  in  what  man 
ner  he  had  employed  his  authority;  adding,  that  if 
they  had  any  complaints  to  make  against  him,  his  per- 
son and  lite  were  at  their  disposal.  All  the  people, 
struck  with  so  unexpected  a  speech,  and  still  mor* 
with  the  confidence  he  reposed  in  them,  answered  by 
acclamations  of  joy,  praise,  and  gratitude;  and  imme- 
diately with  one  consent,  invested  him  with  the  su- 
preme authority,  and  the  title  ol  king.  And  to  pre- 
serve to  latest  posterity  the  remembrance  ol  Gelon's 
memorable  action,5  who  had  come  into  the  assembly, 
and  put  his  life  into  the  hands  of  the  Syracusans,  they 
erected  a  statue  in  honour  of  him,  wherein  lie  was  re- 
presented in  the  ordinary  habit  of  a  citizen,  ungird- 
ed,  and  unarmed.  This  statue  met  afterwards  with  a 
very  singular  fate,  and  worthy  of  the  motives  which 
had  occasioned  its  being  set  up.  Timoleon,  above 
130  years  alter,  having  .restored  the  Syracusans  to 
their  liberty,  thought  it  advisable,  in  order  to  erase 
all  traces  of  tyrannical  government,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  as-ist  the  wants  of  the  people,  to  stll  public- 
ly by  auction  all  the  statues  of  those  piinces  and  ty- 
rants who  had  governed  it  t'.ll  that  time.  But  first 
he  brought  them  to  a  formal  trial,  as  so  many  crimi- 
nals; hearing  the  depositions  and  witnesses  upon  each 
of  them.  They  were  all  condemned  unanimously, 
the  statue  of  Gelon  only  excepted,  which  found  an 
eloquent  advocate  and  defender  in  the  warm  and  sin- 
cere "ratitude  which  the  citizens  retained  for  that 
great  man,  whose  virtue  they  revered  as  if  he  had 
been  still  alive. 

The  Syracusans  had  no  cause  to  repent  their  hav- 
ing intrusted  Gelon  with  unlimited  power  and  author- 
ity. This  made  no  addition  to  his  known  zeal  lor  their 
interests,  but  only  enabled  him  to  do  them  more  im- 
portant services.  For,'  by  a  change  till  then  unheard 
of,  and  of  which  Tacitus  since  found  no  example  ex- 
cept in  Vespasian,7  he  was  the  first  whom  the  sove- 
reignty made  the  better  man.  He  made  upwards  of 
10,000  foreigners,  who  had  served  under  him,  deni- 
zens. His  views  were,  to  people  the  capital,  to  in- 
crease the  power  of  the  state,  to  reward  the  services 
of  these  brave  and  faithful  soldiers,  and  to  attach 
them  more  strongly  to  Syracuse.  fro:;i  the  sense  of  the 
advantageous  settlement  they  had  obtained  in  being 
incorporated  with  the  citizens. 

He  prided  himself  particularly  upon  his  inviolable 
sincerity,8  truth,  and  fidelity  to  his  engagements;  a 
quality  very  essential  to  a  prince,  the  only  one  capable 
of  gaining  him  the  love  and  confidence  of  his  sub- 
jects and  of  foreigners,  and  which  therefore  ought  to 
be  considered  a?  the  basis  of  all  just  policy  and  good 
government.  Having  occasion  for  money  to  carry  on 
an  expedition  he  meditated  (this,  very  probably,  WM 
before  he  had  triumphed  over  the  Carthaginian?,)  he 
addressed  the  people  in  order  to  obtain  a  contribution 
from  them;  but  finding  the  Syracusans  unwilling  to 
be  at  that  expense,  he  told  them,  that  he  asked  no- 
thing but  a  loan,  and  that  he  would  engage  to  repay 
it  as  soon  as  the  war  should  be  over.  The  money 
was  advanced,  and  repaid  punctually  at  the  promised 
time.  How  happy  is  that  government  where  such 
justice  and  equity  are  exercised;  and  how  mistaken 
are  those  ministers  and  princes,  who  violate  them  in 
the  slightest  degree! 

One  of  the  chief  objects  of  his  attention,'  in  which 
his  successor  imitated  him,  was  to  make  the  cultiva- 


•  Plut.  in  Timol.  p.  247.    jElian.  1.  xiii.  e.  37. 
»  Diod.  I.  x\.  p.  55. 

'  Solus  omnium  ante  K  prineipum  in  meliui  moutuieit 
Hist.  1.  i.  c.  50. 

*  P.'ut    MI  Apophth.  p.  175.  •  lu.d. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


293 


Bon  of  the  land's  be  considered  as  an  honourable  em- 
ployment. It  is  well  known  how  fruitful  Sicily  was 
in  corn;  and  the  immense  revenue*  which  might  be 
produced  from  so  rich  a  soil  when  industriously  cul- 
tivated. 1 1<  animated  the  husbandmen  by  his  pre- 
tence, and  delighted  in  appearing  some-times  at  their 
head,  in  the  same  manner  as  on  other  occasions  he 
had  marched  at  the  head  cf  armies.  His  intention, 
says  Mutarch,  was  not  merely  to  make  the  country 
rich  and  fruitful,  but  also  to  exercise  his  subjects,  to 
accustom  and  inure  them  to  toils,  and  by  that  means 
to  pi  tserve  them  from  a  thousand  disorders,  which 
inevitably  follow  a  soft  and  indolent  life.  There  are 
few  maxims  (in  points  of  policy)  on  which  theancients 
have  insisted  more  strongly,  than  on  that  relating  to 
the  cultivation  of  their  lands;  a  manifest  proof  of  their 
gieat  wisdom,  and  tiie  profound  knowledge  they  had 
ot  what  constitutes  the  strength  and  solid  support  of 
a  state.  Xenophon  in  a  dialogue,  entitled  Hiero.1  the 
subject  of  which  is  government,  shows  the  great  ad- 
vantage it  would  be  to  a  state,  were  the  king  studi- 
ous to  reward  those  who  excel  in  husbandry,  and  in 
whatever  relates  to  the  cultivation  of  lands.  He  says 
the  same  of  war,  of  trade,  and  of  all  the  arts;  on 
which  occasion,  if  honours  were  paid  to  all  those  who 
should  distinguish  themselves  in  them,  it  would  give 
universal  life  and  motion;  would  excite  a  noble  and 
laudable  emulation  among  the  citizens,  and  give  rise 
to  a  thousand  inventions  for  the  improvement  and 
perfection  of  those  arts. 

It  does  not  appear  that  (i<  Ion  had  been  educated 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  children  of  the  rich  among 
the  Greeks,  who  were  taught  music  and  the  art  of 
playing  on  instruments  with  great  care.  Possibly 
this  was  a  consequence  of  his  mean  birth,  or  rather 
was  owing  to  the  little  value  he  set  on  those  kind  of 
exercises.  One  dav  at  an  entertainment,2  when  ac- 
cording to  the  usual  custom,  a  lyre  was  presented  to 
each  of  the  guests;  when  it  wag  Gelon's  turn,  in- 
stead of  touching  the  instrument  as  the  rest  had  done, 
he  caused  his  horse  to  be  brought,  mounted  him 
with  wonderful  agility  and  grace,  and  showed  that 
he  had  learned  a  nobler  exercise  than  playing  on  the 
lyre. 

Since  the  defeat  of  the  Carthaginians  in  Sicily,*  the 
several  cities  enjoyed  a  profound  peace,  and  Syracuse 
was  particularly  happy  in  its  tranquillity,  under  the 
auspicious  government  of  Gelon.  He  was  not  born 
in  Syracuse,  and  yet  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  city, 
though  so  extremely  jealous  of  their  liberty,  had  forced 
him  in  a  manner  to  be  their  king.  Though  an  alien, 
the.  supreme  power  went  in  search  of  him,  not  courted 
on  his  part  with  any  art  or  inducement  but  those  of 
merit.  Gelon  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  all  the 
duties  of  the  regal  office,  as  well  as  its  great  weight; 
and  he  accepted  it  with  no  other  view  but  the  good  of 
his  people.  He  thought  himself  king  only  for  the  de- 
fence of  the  state,  to  preserve  the  good  order  of  socie- 
tv,  to  protect  innocence  and  justice,  and  to  exhibit  to 
all  his  subjects,  in  his  simple,  modest,  active,  and  re- 
gular life,  a  pattern  of  every  civil  virtue.  The  whole 
of  royalty  that  he  assumed  was  the  toils  and  cares  of 
it,  a  zeal  for  the  public  welfare,  and  the  sweet  satis- 
faction which  results  from  making  millions  happy  by 
his  cares:  in  a  word,  he  considered  the  sovereignty  as 
an  obligation,  and  a  means  to  procure  the  felicity  of 
h  greater  number  of  men.  He  banished  from  it  pomp, 
ostentation,  licentiousness,  and  impunity  for  crimes. 
He  d'nl  not  atfect  the  appearance  of  reigning,  but  con- 
tented himself  with  making  the  laws  reign.  He  never 
made  his  inferiors  feel  that  he  was  their  master,  but 
only  inculcated  into  them  that  both  himself  and  they 
onsrht  to  submit  to  reason  and  justice.  To  induce 
their  oLedience,  he  employed  no  other  methods  but 
persuasion  and  a  good  example,  which  are  the  wea- 
pons of  virtue,  and  alone  produce  a  sincere  and  unin- 
terrupted obedience. 

A  revtred  old  asre,  a  name  highly  dear  to  all  his 
subjects,  a  reputation  equally  diffused  within  and 
without  his  kingdom;  these  were  the  fruits  of  that 


•  P.  fllfi.  917.  •  Plut.  in  Apopl-tl-egm.  p.  175. 

«  Diud.  1.  xi.  p.  20,  30. 


wisdom  which  he  retained  on  the  throne  to  the  last 
gasp.  His  reign  was  short,  and  only  just  showed  him 
in  a  manner  to  Sicily,  to  exhibit  in  his  person  an  ex- 
ample of  a  great,  good,  and  true  king.  He  died,  after 
having  reigned  only  seven  year?,  to  the  infinite  regret 
of  all  his  subjects.  Kvery  family  imagined  itself  de- 
prived of  its  best  friend,  its  protector  and  father.  The 
people  erected,  without  the  city,  in  the  place  where 
his  wife  Demarata  had  been  buried,  a  splendid  mau- 
soleum, surrounded  with  nine  towers  of  surprising 
height  and  magni6cence;  and  decreed  those  honours 
to  him,  which  were  then  paid  to  the  demigods  or  he 
roes.  The  Carthaginians  afterwards  demolished  the 
mausoleum,  and  Agatholes  the  towers:  but,  says  the 
historian,  neither  violence,  envy,  nor  time,  which  de- 
stroys all  grosser  things,  could  destroy  the  glory  of 
his  name,  or  abolish  the  memory  of  his  exalted  vir- 
tues and  noble  actions,  which  love  and  gratitude  bad 
engraved  in  the  hearts  of  the  Sicilians. 

II.  Hiero. 

After  Gelon's  death,  the  sceptre 

continued  near  12  years  in  his  fami-  A.  M.  3532. 

ly.  He  wa»  succeeded  by  Hiero,  Ant.  J.  C.  472 
his  eldest  brother. 

It  will  be  necessary  for  us,  in  order  to  reconcile  the 
authors  who  have  written  concerning  this  prince, 
some  of  whom  represent  him  as  a  good  king,  and 
others  a  detestable  tyrant;  it  will  be  necessary,  I  say, 
to  distinguish  the  periods.  It  is  very  probable  that 
Hiero,  dazzled,  in  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  by  the 
glitter  of  sovereign  power,  and  corrupted  by  the  flat- 
tery of  his  courtiers,  studiously  endeavoured  to  devi- 
ate from  that  path  which  his  predecessor  had  pointed 
out  to  him,  and  in  which  he  had  found  himself  so 
happy.  This  young  prince  was  avaricious,*  head- 
strong, unjust,  and  studious  of  nothing  but  the  grati- 
fication of  his  passions,  without  ever  endeavouring  to 
acquire  the  esteem  and  affection  of  the  people;  who, 
on  the  other  side,  had  the  utmost  aversion  fora  prince, 
whom  they  looked  upon  as  a  tyrant  over  them,  rather 
than  as  a  ting;  and  nothing  but  the  veneration  they 
had  for  Gelon-'s  memory,  prevented  it  from  breaking 
out. 

Some  time  after  he  had  ascended  the  throne,4  he 
entertained  violent  suspicions  of  Polyzelus,  his  bro- 
ther, whose  great  influence  among  the  citizens  made 
him  fear  that  he  had  a  design  to  depose  him.  In  or- 
der to  rid  himself  without  noise  of  an  enemy  whom 
he  fancied  very  dangerous,  he  resolved  to  put  him  at 
the  head  of  some  forces  he  was  going  to  send  to  the 
succour  of  the  Sybarites  against  the  Crotoniatae,  ho- 
ping that  he  would  perish  in  the  expedition.  His 
brother's  refusal  to  accept  this  command,  made  him 
the  more  violent  against  him.  Theron,  who  had  mar- 
ried Polvzelus's  daughter,  joined  with  his  father-in- 
law.  This  gave  rise  to  great  differences  of  long  dura- 
tion between  the  kings  of  Syracuse  and  Agrigentum; 
however,  they  at  last  were  reconciled  by  the  judicious 
mediation  of  Simonides  the  poet;6  and  to  make  their 
reconciliation  lasting,  they  cemented  it  by  a  new 
alliance,  Hiero  marrying  Theron's  sister;  after  which 
the  two  kings  always  lived  in  good  intelligence  with 
each  other. 

At  first,7  an  infirm  state  of  health,  which  was  In- 
creased  by  repeated  illnesses,  gave  Hiero  an  opportu- 
nity of  thinking  seriously;  after  which  he  resolved  to 
draw  around  him  men  of  learning,  who  might  con- 
verse agreeably  with  him,  and  furnish  him  with  useful 
instructions.  The  most  famous  poets  of  the  age  came 
to  his  court,  as  Simonides,  Pindar.  Bacchylides,  and 
Epicharmus;  and  it  is  affirmed,  that  their  delightful 
conversation  did  not  a  little  contribute  to  soften  the 
cruel  and  savage  disposition  of  Hiero. 

Plutarch8  relates  a  noble  saying  of  his,  which 
shows  an  excellent  disposition  in  a  prince.  He  de- 
clared, that  his  palace  and  his  ears  should  be  always 
open  to  every  man  who  would  tell  him  the  truth,  and 
that  without  disguise  or  reserve. 


«  Diod.  I.  xi.  p.  51. 
«  Erhol.  in  Find. 
•  In  Apopth.  p.  175. 


•  Ibid.  p.  56. 

'  yEliaii.  1.  ir.  c.  15. 


z  2 


294 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


The  poets  above  mentioned  not  only  excelled  in 
poetry,  but  were  also  possessed  of  a  great  fund  of 
learning  in  other  branches,  and  were  respected  and 
consulted  as  the  sages  of  their  times.  This  is  what 
Cicero1  Mys  of  Sinionides  in  particular.  He  had  a 
great  ascendant  over  the  king;  and  the  only  use  he 
made  of  it  was,  to  incline  him  to  virtue. 

They  often  used  to  converse  on  philosophical  sub- 
jects.* I  observed  on  another  occasion,  that  Hiero, 
in  one  of  these  conversations,  asked  Sinionides  his 
opinion  with  regard  to  the  nature  and  attributes  of  the 
Deitv.  The  latter  desired  one  day's  time  to  consider 
of  it;  the  next  day  he  asked  two,  and  went  on  in- 
creasing in  the  same  proportion.  The  prince  pressing 
him  to  give  his  reasons  for  these  delays;  he  confessed, 
that  the  subject  was  above  his  comprehension,  and 
that  the  more  he  reflected,  the  more  obscure  it  ap- 
peared to  him. 

Xenophon  has  left  us  an  excellent  treatise  on  the 
art  of  governing  well,  entitled  Hiero,  and  written  in 
the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  this  prince  and  Sinion- 
ides. Hiero  undertakes  to  prove  to  the  poet,  that 
tyrants  and  kings  are  not  so  happy  as  is  generally  im- 
agined, Among  the  great  number  of  proofs  alleged 
by  him,  he  insists  chiefly  on  their  unhappiness  in  be- 
ing deprived  of  the  greatest  comfort  and  blessing  in 
this  life,  viz.  the  enjoyment  of  a  true  friend,  to  whose 
bosom  they  may  safely  confide  their  secrets  and  afflic- 
tions; who  may  share  with  them  in  their  joy  and  sor- 
row; in  a  word,  a  second  self,  who  may  form  but  one 
heart,  one  soul  with  them.  Sinionides,  on  the  other 
fcide,  lays  down  admirable  maxims  with  respect  to  the 
duties  of  a  sovereign.  He  represents  to  him,  that  a 
king  is  not  so  for  himself,  but  for  others:  that  his 
grandeur  consists,  not  in  building  magnificent  palaces 
for  his  own  residence,  but  in  erecting  temples,  and 
fortifying  and  embellishing  his  cities:  that  his  glory 
consists  not  in  his  people's  fearing  him,  but  in  their 
being  afraid  for  him:  that  a  truly  royal  care  is,  not  to 
enter  the  lists  with  the  first  comer  at  the  Olympic 
tames  (for  the  princes  of  that  age  were  passionately 
fond  of  them,  and  especially  Hiero,)*  but  to  contend 
with  the  neighbouring  kings,  who  should  succeed 
best  in  diffusing  wealth  and  abundance  throughout 
his  dominions,  and  in  endeavouring  to  secure  the  fe- 
licity of  the  people. 

Nevertheless,  another  poet  (Pindar)  praises  this 
same  Hiero  for  the  victory  he  had  won  in  the  horse- 
race. "  This  prince,"  says  he,  in  his  ode,  "  who  gov- 
erns with  equity  the  inhabitants  of  opulent  Sicily,  has 
gathered  the  fairest  (lower  of  every  virtue.  He  takes 
a  noble  delight  in  the  most  exquisite  performances  of 
poetry  and  music.  He  loves  melodious  airs,  such  as 
it  is  customary  for  us  to  filay  at  the  banquets  given  us 
by  our  dearest  friends.  Rouse  then  thyself,  take  thy 
lyre,  and  raise  it  to  the  Doric  pitch.  If  thon  feelest 
thyself  animated  bv  a  glorious  fire  in  favour  of  Pisa  4 
and  Pherenice;  if  they  have  waked  the  sweetest  trans- 
ports in  thy  breast,  when  that  generous  courser  (with- 
out being-  quickened  by  the  spur)  flew  along  the  bnnks 
af  the  Alpheus,  and  carried  his  royal  rider  to  glorious 
victory:  O  sing  the  king  of  Syracuse,  the  ornament 
of  the  Olympic  course!" 

The  whole  ode,  translated  by  the  late  Mr.  Massieu, 
it  in  the  sixth  volume  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy 
of  Inscriptions  and  Belles  Lettres,  from  which  I  have 
made  the  short  extract  above.  I  was  very  glad  to 
give  the  reader  some  idea  of  Pindar,  from  this  little 
specimen. 

The  next  ode  to  this  was  composed  in  honour  of 
Theron,  king  of  Agrlgentum,  victorious  in  the  chariot- 


t  Simoniclpn,  tion  poeta  (olflm  sanvis,  verum  etinm  cteter- 
ex]ui  d.  ictus  wipiensque  iraditur.  Lib.  i.  de  vat.  dear.  n.  GO. 

»  Cic.  1.  i   (le  nat.  <leor,  n.  60. 

•  It  if  sa'ul  that  Themintorles,  woinj  him  arrive  it  the 
Olympic  irnme*  wilh  a  splendid  equipage,  would  have  hail 
him  fotbi.dden  them,  beratise  he  hail  not  succoured  the  Greeks 
asninst  the  common  enemy,  any  more  than  Gclon  his  bro- 
ther ;  which  motion  did  honour  to  the  Athenian  general. 
Jt'lian  I  ix.  c.  5. 

«  Pi-i  waj  the  city,  near  which  the  Olympic  g»me»  were 
•olcmni/.e'd  :  and  Phirenice  wi\s  the  name  of  Hiero'i  courier, 
Mjiiifying  L\e  gainti  of  victory 


race.  The  diction  of  it  is  so  sublime,  the  thongfil 
so  noble,  and  the  moral  so  pure,  that  many  look  upon 
it  as  Pindar's  maste.r-piece. 

I  cannot  say  how  far  we  may  depend  on  the  rest  of 
the  praises  which  Pindar  gives  to  Hiero,  forpuets  do 
not  always  pride  themselves  upon  their  sincerity  in 
the  euloginms  they  bestow  on  princes;  however,  it  is 
certain  that  Hitro  had  made  his  court  the  resorj  of 
all  persons  of  wit  and  genius;  and  that  he  had  invited 
them  to  it  by  his  affability  and  engaging  behaviour, 
and  much  more  by  his  liberality,  which  is  a  great 
merit  in  a  king. 

\Ve  cannot  bestow  on  Hiero's  court  the  euloginra 
which  Horace5  gives  the  house  of  Maecenas,  in  which 
a  character  prevailed  rarely  found  among  scholars, 
and  nevertheless  infinitely  preferable  to  all  their  eru- 
dition. This  amiable  house,  savs  Horace,  was  an  ut- 
ter stranger  to  the  mean  and  grovelling  sentiments  of 
envy  and  jealousy ;  and  men  saw,  in  those  who  shared 
in  their  master's  favour,  a  superior  merit  or  credit, 
without  taking  the  least  umbrage  at  it.  But  it  was 
far  otherwise  in  the  court  of  Hiero  or  of  Theron.6  It 
is  said  that  Sinionides,  and  Bacchylides  his  nephew, 
employed  all  kinds  of  criticism,  to  lessen  the  esteem 
which  those  princes  had  for  Pine'ar's  works.  The  lat- 
ter by  way  of  reprisal,  ridicules  them  very  strongly 
in  his  ode  to  Theron,  in  comparing  them  to  ravent, 
ivho  croak  in  vain  against  the  divine  bird  of  Jove. 
But  modesty  was  not  the  virtue  which  distinguished 
Pindar. 

Hiero,7  having  driven  the  ancient  inhabitants  of 
Catana  and  Naxos  from  their  country,  settled  a  colo- 
ny of  10,000  men  there,  half  of  whom  were  Syracu- 
sans,  and  the  rest  Peloponnesians.  This  induced  the 
inhabitants  of  those  cities  to  appoint,  alter  his  death, 
the  same  solemnities  in  his  honour,  as  were  bestowed 
on  heroes  or  demigods,  because  they  considered  him 
as  their  founder. 

He  showed  great  favour  to  the  children  of  Anaxi- 
laus,8  formerly  tyrant  of  Zancle,  and  a  jreat  friend  to 
Gelon  his  brother.  As  they  were  arrived  at  years  of 
maturity,  he  exhorted  them  to  take  the  government 
into  their  own  hands;  after  Micythus,  thrtr  tutor, 
should  have  perfectly  informed  them  of  the  state  of 
it,  and  how  he  himself  had  behaved  in  the  adminis- 
tration. The  latter,  having  assembled  the  nearest  re- 
lations and  most  intimate  friends  of  the  young  princes, 
gave,  in  their  presence,  so  good  an  account  of  his 
guardianship,  that  the  whole  assembly  (in  perfect  ad- 
miration) bestowed  the  highest  encomiums  on  his 
prudence,  integrity,  and  justice.  Matters  were  carried 
so  far,  that  the  young  princes  were  extremely  urgent 
with  him  to  continue  to  preside  in  the  administration, 
as  he  had  hitherto  done.  However,  the  wise  tutor 
preferring  the  sweets  of  ease  to  the  splendour  of  au- 
thority, and  persuaded,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  would 
be  for  the  interest  of  the  state  if  the  young  princes 
took  the  government  into  their  own  hands,  resolved  to 
retire  from  business.  Hiero  died  after  having  reign- 
ed eleven  years. 

III.   Thrasybulni. 

He  was  succeeded  by  Thrasybulus  his  brother,* 
who.  by  his  evil  conduct,  contributed  very  much  to 
the  making:  him  be  regretted.  Swelled  with  pride 
and  a  brutal  haughtiness,  he  considered  men  ns  mere 
worms:  vainly  fancying  they  were  created  for  him  to 
trample  upon,  and  that  he  was  of  a  quite  different 
nature  from  them.  He  abandoned  himself  implicitly 
to  the  flattering  counsels  of  the  giddv  yoiinir  courtiers 
who  surrounded  him.  He  treated  all  his  subjects  with 


-Non  isto  vivimns  illic, 


Quo  In  rerp,  mixlo.     Domn.i  hnc  nee  purior  ulla  est, 
Nee  mni'i«  hi*  aliena  mnlis.     Nil  mi  ofricit  unqnnm, 
Ditior  hie,  aut  est  quia  doctior.     Est  loon*  uni 
Cuique  suu3.  HOT.  lib.  i   sat.  0 

Sir,  you  mistake.  that's  not  our  course  of  life, 
We  know  no  jealousies,  no  brawls,  no  strife  ; 
From  all  those  ills  our  patron's  house  is  free. 
None.  Vr.u«o  more  learned  or  wealthy,  tr-iulilcs  me; 
We  have  our  stations,  all  their  own  pursue,  &c    Crtee*. 

•  Scholiast    Pitid.  '  Diod.  I.  xi.  p  :)7. 

•  Ibid.  p.  50,  »  Ibid.  p.  51,  52 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


295 


tke  utmost  severity;  banishing  some,  confiscating  the 
possessions  of  others,  and  putting  great  numbers  to 
death.  So  severe  a  slavery  soon  grew  insupportable 
to  the  Syracusans,  and  therefore  they  implored  the 
•ucconr  of  the  neighbouring  cities,  whose  interest  it 
was  also  to  throw  ofl'the  tyrant's  yoke.  Thrasybulus 
was  besieged  even  in  Syracuse,  the  sovereignty  of  part 
of  which  he  had  reserved  to  himself,  viz.  Achradina, 
and  the  island,  which  was  very  well  fortified;  but  the 
third  quarter  of  the  city,  called  Tyche,  was  possess- 
ed by  the  enemy.  After  making  a  feeble  resistance, 
And  demanding  to  capitulate,  he  left  the  city,  and 
withdrew  into  banishment  among  the  Locr'mns.  He 
bad  reigned  but  a  year.  In  this  manner  the  Syracu- 
•ans  recovered  their  liberty.  They  also  delivered  the 
rest  of  the  cities  of  Sicily  from  tyrants;  established 
a  popular  government  in  all  places,  and  maintained 
that  form  by  themselves  during  threescore  year*,  till 
the  reign  of  Dionysius  the  tyrant,  who  again  enslaved 
them. 

After  Sicily  had  been  delivered 
A.  M.  3544.  from  the  government  of  tyrants,1 
Ant.  J.  C.  460.  and  all  the  cities  of  it  were  restored 
to  their  liberty;  as  the  country  was 
extremely  fruitful  in  itself,  and  the  peace  which  all 
places  enjoyed,  gave  the  inhabitants  of  this  island  an 
opportunity  of  cultivating  their  lands,  and  feeding 
their  (locks;  the  people  grew  very  powerful,  and 
amassed  great  riches.  To  perpetuate  to  latest  pos- 
terity the  remembrance  of  the  happy  day  in  which 
they  had  thrown  ofl'the  yoke  of  slavery,  by  the  ban- 
ishment of  Thrasybnlus,  it  was  decreed  in  the  general 
assembly  of  the  nation  that  a  colossal  statue  should 
be  set  up  to  Jupiter  the  Deliverer:  that  on  the  anni- 
versary of  this  day  a  festival  should  i>e  solemnized,  by 
way  of  thanksgiving,  for  the  restoration  of  their  lib- 
erty; and  that  there  should  be  sacrificed  in  honour  of 
the  gods,  450  bulls,  with  which  the  people  should  be 
entertained  at  a  common  feast. 

There  nevertheless  lay  concealed  in  the  mind*  of 
many,  a  certain  secret  leaven  of  tyranny,  which  fre- 
quently disturbed  the  harmony  of  "this  peace,  and  oc- 
casioned several  tumults  and  commotions  in  Sicilv, 
the  particulars  of  which  I  shall  omit.  To  prevent  the 
evil  consequences  of  them,2  the  Syracusans  establish- 
ed the  PetaTism,  which  differed  very  little  from  the 
Athenian  Ostracism  ;  and  was  so  called  from  the 
Greek  >MT»*.»V,  signifying  a  leaf,  because  the  votes 
were  then  given  on  an  olive-leaf.  This  judgment 
was  put  in  force  against  those  citizens  whose  great 
power  made  the  people  apprehensive  that  they  aspi- 
red at  the  tyranny,  and  it  banished  them  for  ten  years; 
however  it  did  not  long  continue  in  force,  and  was 
soon  abolished;  because  the  dread  of  falling  under 
its  censure,  having  prompted  the  most  virtuous  men 
to  retire,  and  renounce  the  government,  the  chief  em- 

D-ments  were  now  filled  by  such  citizens  only  as 
the  least  merit. 

Deucetius,  according  to  Diodorus,'  was  chief  over 
the  people  who  were  properly  called  Sicilians.  Hav- 
ing united  them  all  (the  inhabitants  of  Hybla  except- 
ed)  into  one  body,  he  became  very  powerful,  and 
formed  several  great  enterprises.  It  was  he  who  built 
the  city  Palica,  near  the  temple  of  the  gods  called 
Palici.  This  temple  was  very  famous  on  account  of 
lome  wonders  which  are  related  of  it;  and  still  more 
from  the  sacred  nature  of  the  oaths  which  were  then 
taken,  the  violation  whereof  was  said  to  be  always 
followed  by  a  sudden  and  exemplary  punishment. 
This  was  a  secure  asylum  for  all  persons  who  were 
oppressed  by  superior  power;  and  especially  for  slaves 
who  were  unjustly  abused,  or  too  cruelly  "treated  by 
their  masters.  They  continued  in  safety" in  this  tern- 
olc.  till  certain  arbiters  and  mediators  had  made  their 
peace:  mid  there  was  not  a  single  instance  of  a  mas- 
l<  r's  having  ever  broken  the  promise  he  had  made  of 
pardoning  his  slaves;  so  famous  were  the  gods  who 
presided  over  this  temple,  for  the  severe  vengeance 
they  took  on  those  who  violated  their  oaths. 

Tliis  Deucetius,  after  having  been  successful  on  a 


i  Di'xl.  I.  xi.  55.  tc. 
•  Ibid.  o.  67—70, 


•  Ibid.  p.  G5. 


great  many  occasions,  and  gained  several  victoriei 
particularly  over  the  Syracusans  ;  saw  his  fortune 
change  on  a  sudden  by  the  loss  of  a  battle,  and  was 
abandoned  by  the  greatest  part  of  his  forces.  In  the 
consternation  and  despondency  into  which  so  general 
and  sudden  a  desertion  threw  him,  he  formed  such  a 
resolution  as  despair  only  could  suggest.  He  with- 
drew in  the  night  to  Syracuse,  advanced  as  far  as  the 
great  square  of  the  city,  and  there  falling  prostrate 
at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  abandoned  his  life  and  domin- 
ions to  the  mercy  of  the  Syracusmis,  that  is  to  hi* 
professed  enemies.  The  singularity  of  this  spectacle 
attracted  great  numbers  of  people.  The  magistrates 
immediately  convened  the  people,  and  debated  on  the 
itllair.  They  first  heard  the  orators,  whose  bushiest 
was  generally  to  address  the  people  with  great  vio- 
lence; and  these  animated  them  against  Deucetius,  at 
a  public  enemy,  whom  Providence  seemed  to  throw 
into  their  way,  to  revenge  and  punish,  by  his  death, 
all  the  injuries  he  had  done  the  republic.  A  speech 
of  this  tendency  struck  all  the  virtuous  part  of  the  as- 
sembly with  horror.  The  most  ancient  and  wisest  of 
the  senators  represented,  "That  they  were  not  now 
to  consider  what  punishment  Deucetius  deserved,  but 
how  it  behove  the  Syracusans  to  act  on  that  occasion; 
that  they  ought  not  to  Jook  upon  him  any  longer  at 
an  enemy,  but  as  a  suppliant,  a  character  by  which 
his  person  was  become  sacred  and  inviolable.  That 
there  was  a  goddess  (Nemesis)  who  took  vengeance 
of  crimes,  especially  of  cruelty  and  impiety,  who 
doubtless  would  not  suffer  that  to  go  unpunished: 
that  besides  the  baseness  and  inhumanity  there  is  in 
insulting  the  unfortunate,  and  in  crushing  those  who 
are  already  under  one's  foot:  it  was  worthy  the  gran- 
deur and  good  nature  of  the  Syracusans,  to  exert  their 
clemency  even  to  those  who  least  deserved  it."  AM 
the  people  came  into  this  opinion,  and  with  one  con- 
sent spared  Deucetius's  life.  He  was  ordered  to  reside 
in  Corinth,  the  mother-city  and  foundress  of  Syra- 
cuse; and  the  Syracusans  engaged  to  furnish  Deuce- 
tius with  all  things  necessary  for  his  subsisting  hon- 
ourablv  there.  What  reader,  who  compares  these 
two  different  opinions,  does  not  perceive  which  of 
them  was  the  noblest  and  most  generous. 

SECTION  II.— OF  SOME  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND 
CITIES  m  GR.SCCIA  MAONA.  PYTHAGORAS,  CHA- 
RONDAS,  ZAI.EUCUS,  MILO  THE  ATHLETA ;  CRO- 
TONA,  SYBARIS,  AND  THURIUM. 

I.  Pythagoras. 

IN   treating  of  what    relates    to 
Graecia  Magna  in  Italy,  I  must  not  A.  M.  3480. 

omit  Pythagoras,  who  was  the  glory  Ant.  J.  C.  524. 
of  it.  He  was  born  in  Samos.* 
After  having  travelled  into  a  great  many  regions,  and 
enriched  his  mind  with  much  uncommon  and  excel- 
lent learning,  he  returned  to  his  native  country,  but 
did  not  make  a  lon<£  stay  in  it.  because  of  the  tyran- 
nical government  Which  Polycrates  had  established  in 
it,  who  however  had  the  highest  regard  for  him,  and 
showed  him  all  the  esteem  due  to  his  rare  merit-.  But 
the  study  of  the  sciences,  and  particularly  of  philoso- 
phy, is  by  no  means  compatible  with  slavery,  though 
of  the  mildest  and  most  honourable  kind.  He  there- 
fore went  into  Italy,  ami  resided  usually  either  at 
Crotona,  Metapontum,  Heraclea,  or  Tarentum.  Ser- 
vius  Tulluis,5  or  Tarquiuius  Superbus,  reigned  in 
Rome  at  that  time;  which  absolutely  refutes  the  opi- 
nion of  those  who  imagined  that  Nunia  Pompilius, 
the  second  king  of  the  Romans,  who  lived  upward* 
of  100  years  before,  had  been  Pythagoras's  disciple; 
an  opinion  that  very  probubly  was  grounded  on  the 
resemblance  of  their  manners,  disposition,  and  prin- 
ciples. 

The  whole   country  soon    felt    very  happy  effects 
from  the  presence  of  this  excellent  philosopher.6    AD 


«  Diog.  Laert.  in  vil.  Pytbag. 

•  I.iv.  1.  i.  ii.  18. 

•  P>lha<rnras>,  rum    in  Ilnliam   venUset,    riornavit    earn 
Oro-ciam.    ipin-   magna  dicta   est,  et    privatim    ct    public*, 

rapmantissimiact  initilutii,  et  arlibus.  Cic.  7V«W. 
v.  n.  10. 


auo 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


inclination  for  study,  and  a  love  of  wisdom,  diffused 
themselves  almost  universally  in  a  very  short  time. 
Multitudes  flocked  from  all  "the  neighbouring  cities 
to  get  a  sight  of  Pythagoras  to  hear  him,  and  to  profit 
by  his  salutary  counsels.  The  several  princes  of  the 
country  took  a  pleasure  in  inviting  him  lo  their  courts, 
which  they  thought  honoured  by  his  presence;  and 
all  were  delighted  with  his  conversation,  and  glad  to 
learn  from  him  the  art  of  governing  nations  with  wis- 
dom. His  school  became  the  most  famous  that  had 
ever  been  till  that  age.  He  had  no  less  than  4  or  500 
dis.-iples.  Before  he  admitted  them  in  that  i|uality,  he 
kept  them  in  a  state  of  noviciate,  a?  it  were,  and  pro- 
bation for  fire  years,  during  which  time  he  obliged 
them  to  keep  the  siricttst  silence;  thinking  it  proper 
for  them  to  be  instructed,  before  they  should  attempt 
to  speak.  It  is  well  known  that  the  metempsychosis 
or  transmigration  of  souls  was  one  of  the  chief  of  his 
tenets.  His  disciples  had  the  greatest  reverence  for 
every  wor-J  he  uttered;  and  if  he  did  but  barely  aver 
a  thinsr,  that  alone,  without  farther  examination,  was 
sufficient  to  gain  credit  to  his  assertion;  and  to  con- 
firm the  truth  of  any  thing,  they  used  to  express  them- 
selves in  this  manner.  The  master  said  it1  However, 
the  disciples  carried  their  deference  and  docility  too 
far,  in  thus  waving  all  inquiry,  and  in  sacrificing  im- 
plicitly their  reason  and  understanding;  a  sacrifice  that 
it  due  only  to  the  divine  authority,  which  is  infinitely 
superior  to  our  reason  and  all  our  knowledge;  and 
which,  consequently,  is  authorized  to  prescribe  laws 
to  us.  and  dictate  absolute  obedience. 

The  school  of  Pythagoras  bred  a  great  number  of 
illustrious  disciples,  who  did  infinite  honour  to  their 
master;  as  wise  legislators,  great  politicians,  persons 
skilled  in  all  the  sciences,  and  capable  of  governing 
states,  and  being-  the  ministers  of  the  greatest  princes. 
A  Ions  time  after  his  death,*  that  part  of  Italy  which 
be  had  cultivated  and  improved  by  his  instructions, 
was  still  considered  as  the  nursery  and  seat  of  men 
skilled  in  all  kinds  of  literature,  and  maintained  that 
glorious  character  for  several  ages.  The  Romans 
certainly  entertained  a  high  opinion  of  Pythagoras's 
virtue  and  merit,*  since  the  oracle  of  Delphi  having 
commanded  thst  people,  during  the  war  with  the 
Sammies,  to  erect  two  statues  in  the  most  conspicuous 
part  of  Rome,  the  one  to  the  wisest,  and  the  other  to 
the  most  valiant  among  the  Greeks,  they  accordingly 
set  up  two  in  the  place  where  the  Camilla  were  held, 
representing  Pythagoras  and  Themislocles.  We 
have  no  certain  information  with  respect  to  the  time 
and  place  of  Pythagoras's  death. 

II.  Crolotut.     Sybaris.     Thurium. 

Crotona  was  founded  by  Mvscel- 
A.  M.  3295.  lu<>,«  chief  of  the  Arhneans,"  the  third 
Ant.  J.  C.  709.  year  of  the  seventeenth  Olympiad. 
This  Myscelliis  being  come  to  Del- 
phi to  consult  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  about  the  spot 
on  which  he  should  build  his  city,  met  Archias  the 
Corinthian  there,  who  was  arrived  upon  the  same  ac- 
count. The  god  g~"i"*  them  a  favourable  audience; 
and  after  having  determined  tne.n  with  regard  to  the 
place  that  would  best  suit  their  new  settlements,  he 
proposed  different  advantages  to  them,  and  left  them, 
among  other  particulars,  the  choice  of  riches  or  health. 
The  ort'er  of  riches  struck  Anrhias,  but  Myscellus  de- 
sired health;  and,  if  history  is  to  be  credited,  Apollo 
performed  his  promise  faithfully  to  both.  Archias 
f)unded  Syracuse,  which  soon  became  the  most  opu- 
lent city  of  Greece.  Myscellus  laid  the  foundations 
of  Crotona,*  which  became  so  famous  for  the  long  life 
and  innate  strength  of  its  inhabitants,  that  its  name 
was  used  proverbially  to  signify  a  very  healthy  spot, 
whose  air  was  extremely  pure.  The  natives  of  this 


i  ACr:<  ir*. 

•  Pythajoras  tenuit  mnjnam  illam  Graeriam  cum  honor*, 
et  di<riplina.  turn  dram  auctnritate  multai;ue  «pciila  pogtea 
ric  viiruit  Pyilia;nrp<irum  noniei  ,  ut  nul'i  alii  docti  vidvren- 
lur.     Ta.'c.  Q*/r»t.  I    i.  n.  38. 

»  Plin   I.  xxxiv.  c.  G. 

*  Strali.   I.   vi.  p.  932  A.  2C9.     Dianrs    Halicmrn.  Antiq. 
Ro<n   I.  ii.  t .  101. 


city  signaliied  themselves  in  a  great  number  jt  victo- 
ries in  the  Grecian  games;  and  Strabo  relates  that.il 
one  and  the  same  Olympiad,  seven  Crotonians  were 
crowned  in  the  Olympic  games,  and  carried  off  all  the 
prizes  of  the  stadium. 

Sybaris  was  ten  leagues  (200  stadia)  from  Croto- 
na,* and  had  also  been  founded  bv  the  Achaeans,  bw£ 
before  the  other.  This  citv  became  afterwards  very 
powerful.  Four  neighbouring  states,  and  twenty-five 
cities,  were  subject  to  it,  so  that  it  was  alone  able  to 
raise  an  army  of  300,000  men.  The  opulence  of  Sy- 
baris was  soon  followed  by  luxury,  and  such  a  disso- 
luteness of  manners  as  is  scarct  ly  credible.  The 
citizens  employed  themselves  in  nothing  but  banquets, 
games,  shows,  parties  of  pleasure,  and  carousals. 
Public  rewards  and  marks  of  distinction  were  bestow- 
ed on  those  who  gave  the  most  magnificent  entertain- 
ments; and  even  to  such  cooks  as  were  best  skilled 
in  the  important  art  of  making  new  discoveries  in 
dressing  dishes,  and  inventing  new  refinements  to 
please  the  palate.  The  Sybarites  carried  their  delica- 
cy and  frh"eminncy  to  such  a  height,  that  they  care- 
fully removed  from  their  city  all  such  artificers  whose 
work  was  noisy;  and  would  not  sutler  any  cocks  in 
it,  Itst  their  shrill  piercing  crow  should  disturb  their 
balmy  slumbers. 

All  these  evils  were  heightened   by  dissention  and 
discord,1  which  at  last  proved  their 
ruin.    Five  hundred  of  the  wealth!-  A.  M.  3484. 

est  persons  in  the  city  having  been  Ant.  J.  C.  520. 
expelled  by  the  faction  of  one  Te- 
lys,  fled  to  Crotona.  Telvs  demanded  to  have  them 
surrendered  to  him;  and,  on  the  refusal  of  the  Croto- 
nians to  deliver  (hem  up  (who  were  prompted  to  this 
generous  resolution  by  Pythagoras,  who  then  lived 
among  them)  war  was  declared.  The  Sybarites 
marched  300.000  men  into  the  field,  and  the"  Crolo- 
nians  only  100,000;  out  then  they  were  headed  by 
Milo,  the  famous  champion  (of  whom  we  shall  soon 
have  occasion  to  speak,)  over  whose  shoulders  a  linn's 
skin  was  thrown,  and  himself  armed  with  a  club,  like 
another  Hercules.  The  latter  gained  a  complete  vic- 
tory, and  made  a  dreadful  havoc  of  those  who  fled,  so 
that  very  few  escaped,  and  their  city  was  depopulated. 
About  threescore  years  after,  some  Thessalians  cam* 
and  settled  in  it;  however,  they  did  not  long  enjoy 
peace,  being  driven  out  by  the  Crotonians.  Being 
thus  reduced  to  the  most  fatal  extremity,  they  implor- 
ed the  succour  of  the  Lacedaemonians  and  Athenians, 
The  latter,  moved  with  compassion  at  their  deplora- 
ble condition,  after  causing  proclamation  to  be  made 
in  Peloponnesus,  that  all  who  were  willing  to  join  that 
colony  were  at  liberty  to  do  it,  sent  the  Sybarites  a 
fleet  often  ships,  under  the  command  ofLampon  and 
Xenocrates. 

They  built  a  citv  near  the  ancient 

Sybaris    and    called    it  Thurium.8  A.  M.  3560, 

Two  men  greatly  renowned  for  Ant.  J.  C.  444 
their  learning,  the  one  an  orator, 
and  the  other  an  historian,  settled  in  this  colony.  Th» 
first  was  Lysias,  at  that  time  but  fifteen  years  of  aget. 
He  lived  in  Thurium,  till  the  ill  fate  which  befell  the 
Athenians  in  Sicily,  and  then  went  to  Athens.  Th« 
second  was  Herod'otus.  Though  he  was  born  in  Ha- 
licarnassus,  a  city  of  Caria,  he  was,  however,  con- 
sidered as  a  native  of  Thurium,  because  he  settled 
there  with  that  colony. 

Division*  soon  broke  out  in  the  city,  on  occasion 
of  the  new  inhabitants,  whom  the  rest  were  desirous 
to  exclude  from  all  public  employments,  and  privile- 
ges. But  «s  these  were  much  more  numerous,  they 
expelled  all  the  ancient  Sybarites,  and  got  the  sole 
possession  of  the  city.  Being  supported  by  the  alli- 
ance they  made  with  the  people  of  Crotona,  they  soon 
grew  vastly  powerful,  and  having  settled  a  popular 
form  of  government  in  their  citv,  they  divided  the  cit- 
izens into  ten  tribes,  which  they  called  bv  the  names 
of  the  different  nations  whence  they  sprung. 


•  StraJ.  1.  vi  263.     Athen.  1.  xii.  p.  518-500. 
'  Died,  I.  xxi.  p.  76-!'5. 

•  Diunyt.  lUlirarn.  in   »it.  Ly*.  f    92.     Btrai    I.  SIT.  f 
656. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


297 


III.  Charondas,  the  legislator. 
They  now  bent  their  whole  thoughts  to  the 
•trenglhening  of  their  government  by  wholesome 
laws,  for  which  purpose  they  made  choice  of  Charon- 
das, who  had  been  educated  in  Pythagoras's  school, 
to  digest  and  draw  them  up.  I  shall  quote  some  of 
rtem  in  this  place. 

1.  He  excluded  from  the  senate,  and  all  public  em- 
ployments, all  such  as  shot  (d  marry  a  second  wife,  in 
case  any  children  by  their  first   were   living:    being 
persuaded,  that  a  man  who  was   so  regardless  of  hii 
children's  interest,  would  be  equally  so  of  his  coun- 
try's, ;md  be  as  worthless  a  magistrate  as  he  had  been 
m.  father. 

2.  He   sentenced  all  false  accusers   to  be  carried 
through  every  part  of  the  city  crowned  with  heath  or 
broom,  as  the  viisst  of  men;  an  ignominy  which  most 
of  them  were  not  able  to  survive.     The  city,  thus  de- 
livered from  those  pests  of  society,  was  restored  to  its 
former  tranquillity.     And  indeed.1  from  calumniators 
generally  arise   all  feuds  and   contests,  whether  of  a 
public  or  private  nature;  and  yet,  according  to  Taci- 
tus'? observation,  they  are  too  much  tolerated  in  most 
governments. 

3.  He   enacted  a  new  kind  of  law  against  another 
•pecies  of  pests,  which  is  generally  the  first  occasion 
of  the  depravity  of  manners  in  a  slate;  by  suffering 
all  those  to  be  prosecuted  who  should  form  a  corres- 
pondence, or  contract  a  friendship,  with  wicked  men, 
and  bv  laying  a  heavy  fine  upon  them. 

4.  He  required    a  I',  children  of  the  citizens  to   he 
educated  in  polite  literature;  the  effect  of  which  is  to 
soften   an'!  civilize  the  minds  of  men,  inspiring  them 
with   gentleness  of  manners,  and    inclining  them  to 
virtue:  H||  which  constitute  the  felicity  of  a  «tate,  and 
are  equally  necrssary  to  citizens  of"  all"  conditions.    In 
this  view  he  appointed_salarics  (paid  by  the  state)  for 
masters   and    preceptors;  in  order  that   learning,  by 
being  communicated  gratuitously,  might  be  acquired 
by   all.     He  considered  ignorance  as  the  greatest  of 
evils,  and  the  source  whence  all  vices  flowed. 

5.  He   made  a  law  with    respect  to  orphans  which 
appears  sufficiently  judicious,  by  intrusting   the  care 
of  their  education  to  their  relations  by  the  mother's 
fide,  as  their   lives   would    not    be   in   danger    from 
them;  and  the.  management  of  their  estates  to  their 
paternal  relations,  it   being  the  interest  of  the  latter 
to   make  the  greatest  advantage  of  them,  since   they 
would    inherit  them,  in  case  of  the  demise  of  their 
wards. 

6.  Instead  of  putting  deserters  to  death,  and  those 
who  quitted  their  ranks  and   fled  in  battle,  he  only 
sentenced    them    to    make   their   appearance   during 
three  days  in  the  city,  dressed  in  the  habit  of  women, 
imagining,  that  the  dread  of  so  ignominious   a  pun- 
ishment would  be  equally  efficacious  with  putting  to 
death;  and  beinsr,  at  the  same  time,  desirous  of  giv- 
ing such  cowardly  citizens  an  opportunity  of  atoning 
for  their  fault. 

7.  To   prevent   his   laws  from  being  too  rashly  or 
resily  abrogated,  he  imposed  a  very  severe  and  hazar- 
dous condition  on  all  persons  who  should  propose  to 
alter  or  amend  them  in  any  manner.     They  were   to 
appear  in  the  public  assembly  with  a  halter  about  their 
necks;  and  in  case  the   alteration   proposed  did   not 
pns«,  they  were  to  be  immediately  strangled.     There 
were  but  three  amendments  ever  proposed,  and  all  of 
them  iv'iuitted. 

Chnronda«did  not  long  survive  his  own  laws.  Re- 
turning one  day  from  pursuing  some  thieves,  and  find- 
ing a  tumult  in  the  city,  he  came  armed  into  the  as- 
sembly, though  he  himself  had  prohibite-d  this  by  an 
express  law.  A  certain  person  objected  to  him  in  se- 
vere term«,  that  he  violated  his  own  laws;  "  I  do  not 
violate  them."  says  he,  "but  ihus  seal  them  with  my 
blood:"  snyinir  which,  he  plunged  his  sword  into  his 
oosom,  and  expired. 

IV.  Zaleiicns,  another  lawgiver. 
At  the  same  time  there  arose   among  the  Locrians 


«  Dol.itorr*.  jono*  hominum  puhliro  ciitio  repcrtnm,  et 
poenis  ijuidcm  nunquam  satii  roerchnm.  Tmeit.  .1nnal.  I. 
•r  c.  3d. 

VOL.  i.— as 


another  famous  legislator,*  Zaletirus  by  name,  who. 
as  well  as  Charondas.  had  been  Pythagoras's  disripU 
There  is  now  scarce  any  thing  extant  of  his,  except 
a  kind  of  preamble  to  his  laws,  which  gives  a  most 
advantageous  idea  of  them.  He  requires,  above  all 
things,  of  the  citizens,  to  believe  and  be  firmly  per- 
suaded, that  there  are  gods;  and  adds,  that  the  bar* 
casting  up  our  eyt«  to  the  heavens,  and  contemplat 
ing  tht  ir  order  and  beauty,  are  sufficient  to  convince 
us,  that  it  is  impossible  so  wonderful  a  fabric  could 
have  been  formed  by  mere  chance  or  human  power. 
As  the  natural  consequence  of  this  belief,  he  exhort! 
men  to  honour  and  revere  the  gods,  as  the  authors 
of  whatever  is  good  and  just  among  mortals;  and  to 
honour  them,  not  merely  by  sacrifices  and  sp!e.ndid 
gilts,  but  by  a  circumspect  conduct,  and  by  purity 
and  innocence  of  manners;  these  being  infinitely  more 
grateful  to  the  deities  than  all  the  sacrifices  that  can 
be  offered. 

Alter  this  exordium,  so  pregnant  with  religion  and 
piety,  in  which  he  describes  the  Supreme  Being  •• 
the  primary  source  whence  all  laws  How,  as  the  chief 
authority  which  commands  obedience  to  them,  ai 
the  most  powerful  motive  for  our  faithful  observance 
of  them,  and  as  the  perfect  model  to  which  mankind 
ought  to  conform:  he  descends  to  the  particulars  of 
those  duties  which  men  owe  to  one  another;  and  layl 
down  a  precept  which  is  very  well  adapted  to  pre- 
serve peace  and  unity  in  society  by  enjoining  the  in- 
dividuals who  compose  it  not  to  make  their  hatred 
and  dissensions  perpetual,  which  would  evince  an  un- 
sociable and  savage  disposition:  but  to  treat  their  en- 
emies as  men  who  woulj  soon  be  their  friends.  This 
i<  carrying  morality  to  as  great  a  perfection  as  could: 
be  expected  from  heathens. 

\N  ith  regard  to  the  duty  of  judges  and  magistrates, 
after  representing  to  them,  that  in  pronouncing  sen- 
tence they  ought  never  to  suffer  themselves  to  be 
biassed  by  friendship,  hatred,  or  any  other  passion; 
he  only  exhorts  them  to  avoid  carefullv  all  haughti- 
ness or  severity  towards  the  parties  engaged  in  law, 
since  such  are  but  too  unhappy  in  being  obliged  to 
undergo  all  the  toils  and  fatigues  inseparable  from 
lawsuits.  The  office  indeed  of  judges,  how  labo- 
rious soever  it  may  be,  is  far  from  giving  them  a  right 
to  vent  their  ill  humour  upon  the  contending  parties; 
the  very  condition  and  essence  of  ihf'tr  employment 
require  them  to  behave  with  impartiality,  and  to  do 
justice  on  all  occasions;  and  when  they  distribute  this 
even  with  mildness  and  humanity,  it  is  only  a  debt 
they  pay,  and  not  a  favour  they  grant. 

To  banish  luxury  from  his  republic,  which  he  look- 
ed upon  as  the  certain  destruction  of  a  government, 
he  did  not  follow  the  pr>  ctice  established  in  some  na- 
tions, where  it  is  thought  sufficient,  for  the  restraining 
it,  ta  punish,  by  pecuniary  mulcts,  such  as  infringe 
the  laws;  but  he  acted,  says  the  historian,  in  a  more 
artful  and  ingenious,  and  at  the  same  time  more  effec- 
tual, manner.  He  prohibited  women  from  wearing 
rich  and  costly  stuffs,  embroidered  robes,  jewels,  ear- 
rings, neck-laces,  bracelets,  gold-rings,  and  such-tike 
ornaments;  excepting  none  from  this  law  but  common 
prostitutes.  He  enacted  a  similar  law  with  regard  to 
the  men:  excepting  in  the  same  manner,  from  the  ob- 
servance of  it,  such  only  as  were  willing  to  pass  for 
debauchees  and  infamous  wretches.  »>••  *hese  regu- 
lations he  easily,  and  without  violence,  p»\.-«--ved  the 
citizens  from  the  least  approaches  to  luxury  and  ef- 
feminacy.' For  no  person  was  so  lost  to  all  sense  of 
honour,  as  to  be  willing  to  wear  the  badges  of  his 
shame,  under  the  eye,  as  it  were,  of  all  the  citizens, 
since  this  would  make  him  the  public  laughing  stock, 
and  reflect  eternal  infamy  on  his  family. 
V.  Jtfifa,  the  champion. 

We  have  seen  him  at  the  head  of  an  army  obtain  ft 
great  victory.  However,  he  was  still  more  renowned 
for  his  athletic  strength  than  for  his  military  bravery. 
He  was  surnamed  the  Crotonian,  from  Crotona  the 

•  Oiod.  I.  itii   p.  70— 8i 

*  More  inter  vrtcri'n  roeoptn,  qui  «ati*  pmnarum  n<lv<r*di 
impudica*  in  ipia  profc«»iono  flagitii  credrh&rt.     Tacit.  An- 
*al.  \.  ii.  c.  83. 


29S 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


place  of  his  birth.  It  was  his  daughter,  whom,  as 
was  before  related,  Deniocedes  the  famous  physician, 
and  Milo's  countryman,  married,  after  he  had  escaped 
from  Darius's  court  to  Greece,  his  native  country. 

Pausania*  relates,1  that  Milo  was  seven  times  vic- 
torious at  the  Pythian  games,  once  when  a  child; 
that  he  won  fix  victories  (at  wrestling)  in  the  Olym- 
pic games,  one  of  which  was  also  gained  in  his  child- 
hood; and  that  challenging  a  seventh  time  (in  Olym- 
pia)  any  person  to  wrestle  with  him,  he  could  not 
engage  for  want  of  an  opponent.  He  would  hold  a 
pomegranate  in  such  a  manner,  that,  without  break- 
ing it,  he  would  grasp  it  so  fast  in  his  hand,  that  no 
one,  however  strong,  could  possibly  wrest  it  from 
him.  He  would  stand  so  firm  on  a  discus,*  which  had 
been  oiled  to  make  it  the  more  slippery,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  push  him  off. "  He  would  bind  his  head 
with  a  cord,  after  which  holding  his  breath  strongly, 
the  veins  of  his  head  would  swell  so  prodigiously  as 
to  break  the  rope.  When  Milo,  fixing  his  elbow  on 
hi?  side,  stretched  forth  his  right  hand  quite  open, 
with  his  fingers  held  close  one  to  the  other,  his 
thumb  excented,  which  he  raised,  the  utmost  strength 
of  man  could  not  separate  his  little  finger  from  the 
other  three. 

All  this  was  only  a  vain  and  puerile  ostentation  of 
his  strength.  Chance,  however,  gave  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  making  a  much  more  laudable  use  of  it. 
One  day,3  as  he  was  attending  the  lectures  of  Pytha- 
goras (for  he  was  one  of  his  most  constant  disciples,) 
the  pillar  which  stipported  the  ceiling  of  the  school 
in  which  the  pupils  were  assembled,  being  sh  ;ken 
by  some  accident,  Milo  supported  it  by  his  single 
strength,  gave  the  auditors  time  to  get  away,  and  hav- 
ing provided  for  their  safety,  he  afterwards  escaped 
himself. 

What  is  related  of  the  voracious  appetite  of  the 
athletae  is  almost  incredible.  Milo's  appetite  was 
scarce  satiated  with  twenty  minae  (pounds)  of  meat, 
the  same  quantity  of  bread,  and  three  congii  *  of  wine 
every  day.5  Atheraeus  relates,  that  this  champion 
having  run  the  whon  length  of  the  stadium,  with  a 
bull  four  years  old  on  his  shoulders,  he  afterwards 
knocked  him  down  with  one  stroke  of  his  fist,  and 
ate  the  whole  beast  that  very  day.  I  will  take  it  for 
granted,  that  all  the  other  particulars  related  of  Milo 
are  true;  but  is  it  in  the  slightest  degree  probable, 
that  one  man  could  devour  a  whole  ox  in  to  short  a 
time? 

We  are  told  that  Milo,6  when  advanced  to  a  very 
great  age,  seeing  the  rest  of  th«  champions  wrestling, 
and  gazing  upon  his  own  arms,  which  once  were  so 
vigorous  and  robust,  but  were  then  very  much  en- 
feebled by  time,  burst  into  tears  and  cried,  Alas! 
these  arms  are  now  dead. 

And  yet  he  either  forgot  or  concealed  his  weakness 
"rom  himself;7  and  the  confident  persua-ion  which  he 
entertained  of  his  own  strength,  and  which  he  pre- 
served to  the  last,  proved  fatal  to  him.  Happening 
to  meet,  as  he  was  travelling,  an  old  oak,  which  had 
been  opened  by  some  wedges  that  were  forced  into  it, 
he  undertook  to  Split  it  in  two  by  his  bare  strength. 
But  after  forcing  out  the  wedges  by  the  exortion  he 
made,  his  arms  were  patched  in  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
by  the  violence  with  which  it  closed;  so  that  being 
unable  to  disengage  his  hands  he  was  devoured  by 
wolves. 

An  author  hag  judiciously  observed,*  that  this  sur- 
prisingly robust  champion,  who  prided  himself  so 
much  on  his  bodily  strength,  was  the  weakest  of  men 
with  regard  to  a  passion,  which  often  subdues  and 
captivates  the  strongest;  a  courtezan  having  gained 
»o  great  an  ascendant  over  Milo,  that  she  tvrannized 
over  him  in  the  most  imperious  manner,  and  made 
him  obey  whatever  commands  she  laid  upon  him. 


t  j/iii  vi.  p  wo.  m. 

•  This  ilium*  \VH«  a  kind  of  quoit,  flat  and  round. 
»  Sirnb   I.  vi.  p.  2fi3. 

«  Thirty  rounds,  or  eighteen  pints. 

•  Ailipn.  I.  x.  p  410. 

•  Cir.  de  Sonect.  n.  27.  '  Pant.  1.  vi.  p.  370. 

•  AMian.  1.  ii.  c.  24. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   WAR  OF  PELOPONNESUS. 
THE  Peloponnesian  war,  which  I 
am  now  entering  upon,  began  about  A   M.  3571. 

the  end  of  the  fii>t  year  of  the  Ant.  J.  C.  431. 
eighty-seventh  Olympiad,  and  last- 
ed twenty-seven  years.  Thucydiues  has  written  the 
history  of  it  to  the  twenty-first  year  inclusively.  He 
gives  us  an  accurate  account  of  the  several  transac- 
tions of  every  year,  which  he  divides  into  campaigns 
and  winter-quarters.  However,  I  shall  not  be  so  mi- 
nute, and  shall  only  extract  such  parts  of  it  as  appear 
most  entertaining  and  instructive.  Plutarch  and  Di- 
od-orus  Siculus  will  also  be  of  great  assistance  to  ma 
on  this  occasion. 

SECTION  I. — THE  SIEGE  OF  VI.ATXJE  BY  THE 
THEBANS.  ALTERNATE  RAVAGES  OF  ATTICA  AND 
PELOPONNESUS.  HONOURS  PAID  TO  THE  ATHE- 
NIANS WHO  FELL  IN  THE  FIRST  CAMPAIGN. 

Thejirst  year  of  the  war. 

THE  first  act  of  hostility  by  which  the  war  begun,' 
was  committed  by  the  Thebans,  who  besieged  Pla- 
tasae,  a  city  of  Bceotia,  in  alliance  with  Athens.  Thej 
were  introduced  into  it  by  treachery;  but  the  citizens 
falling  upon  them  in  the  night,  killed  them  all,  with 
the  exception  of  about  200,  who  were  taken  prisoners, 
and  who  a  little  after  were  put  to  death.  The  Athe- 
nians, as  soon  as  the  news  was  brought  of  the  action 
at  Plataeap,  sent  succours  and  provisions  thither,  and 
cleared  the  city  of  all  persons  who  were  incapable  of 
bearing  arms. 

The  truce  being  evidently  broken,  both  sides  pre- 
pared openly  for  war;  and  ambassadors  were  sent  to 
all  places  to  strengthen  themselves  by  the  alliance  of 
the  Greeks  and  barbarians.  •  Every  part  of  Greece 
was  in  motion,  some  few  states  and  cities  excepted, 
which  continued  neuter,  till  they  should  see  the  event 
of  the  war.  The  majority  were  for  the  Laceda^moni- 
ans,  as  being  the  deliverers  of  Greece,  and  espoused 
their  interest  very  warmly,  because  the  Athenians, 
forgetting  that  the  moderation  and  gentleness  with 
which  they  commanded  over  others,  had  procured 
them  many  allies,  had  afterwards  alienated  the  great- 
est part  of  them  by  their  pride  and  the  severity  of 
their  government,  and  incurred  the  hatred,  not  only 
of  those  who  were  then  subject  to  them,  but  of  all 
such  as  were  apprehensive  of  becoming  their  depend- 
ants. In  this  temper  of  mind  were  the  Greeks  at  that 
time.  The  confederates  of  each  of  those  tvro  states 
were  as  follow. 

All  Peloponnesus,  Argos  excepted,  which  stood 
neuter,  had  declared  for  I.aceda?monia.  The  Achae- 
an*, the  inhabitants  of  Pellene  excepted,  were  neuter, 
at  first,  but  at  length  insensibly  engaged  in  the  war. 
Out  of  Peloponnesus  were  the  people  of  Megara,  Lo- 
cris,  Boeotia,  Phocis,  Ambracia,  Leucadia,  and  Anac- 
torium,  on  the  side  of  the  Lacedaemonians. 

The  confederates  of  the  Athenians  were,  the  people 
of  Chios,  Lesbos,  Plataeas,  the  Messenians  oflVaupac- 
tus;  the  greatest  part  of  the  Acarnanians,  Corey- 
reans,  Cephalenians,  and  Zacynthians,  besides  the 
several  tributary  count' ies,  as  maritime  Caria,  Doria 
that  lies  near  it,  Ionia,  the  Hellespont;  and  the  cities 
of  Thrace,  Chalcis,  and  Potidaca  excepted,  all  the 
islands  between  Crete  and  Peloponnesus,  eastward; 
and  the  Cvclades,  Melos  and  Thera  excepted. 

Immediately  after  the  attempt  on  Plat.vpp,  the 
Lacedaemonians  had  ordered  forces  to  be  levied  both 
within  and  without  Peloponnesus;  and  made  all  the 
preparations  necessary  for  entering  the  em  my's 
country-  All  things  being  ready,  two  thirds  of  the 
troops  marched  to  the  isthmus  of  Corinth,  and  the 
rest  were  left  to  guard  the  country.  Archidamm, 
king  of  [.acedaemonia,  who  commanded  the  army,  as- 
sembled the  generals  and  chief  officers,  and  calling 
to  their  remembrance  the  great  actions  performed  by 
their  ancestors,  and  those  they  themselves  had  done 


•  Thueyd.  1.  ii.  p. 
in  Pericl.  "p.  170. 


2.     Diod.  I  tii.  p.  97—  100     Plu« 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


290 


g 


«r  been  eye-witnesses  to,  he  exhorted  them  to  sup- 
port, with  the  utmost  efforts  of  their  valour,  the  pris- 
tine glory  of  their  respective  cities,  as  well  as  their 
own  fame.  He  represented  to  them,  that  the  eyes  of 
all  Greece  were  upon  them;  and  that  in  expectation 
of  the  issue  of  a  war  which  would  determine  their 
fate,  they  were  incessantly  addressing  heaven  in  fa- 
Tour  of  a  people,  who  were  as  dear  to  them  as  the 
Athenians  were  become  odious  ;  that,  however,  he 
could  not  deny,  that  they  were  going  to  march  against 
•  n  enemy,  who,  though  greatly  inferior  to  them  in 
numbers  and  in  strength,  were  nevertheless  very  pow- 
erful, warlike,  and  daring;  and  whose  courage  would 
doubtless  be  still  more  inflamed  by  the  sight  of  dan- 
ger, and  the  laying  waste  of  their  territories:  that 
therefore  they  must  exert  themselves  to  the  utmost,1 
to  spread  an  immediate  terror  in  the  country  they 
were  going  to  enter,  and  to  inspire  the  allies  with  con- 
fidence. The  whole  armv  answered  with  the  loud- 
est acclamations  of  joy,  and  repeated  assurances  that 
they  would  do  their  duly. 

The  assembly  breaking  up,  Archidamus,  ever  real- 
ous  for  the  welfare  of  Greece,  and  resolving  to  ne- 

Ilect  no  expedient  that  might  prevent  a  rupture,  the 
readful  consequences  of  which  he  foresaw,  sent  a 
Spartan  to  Athens,  to  endeavour,  before  they  should 
come  to  hostilities,  to  prevail,  if  possible,  with  the 
Athenians  to  lay  aside  their  designs;  now  that  they 
•aw  an  army  ready  to  march  into  Attica.  But  the 
Athenians,  so  far  from  admitting  him  to  audience,  or 
hearing  his  reasons,  would  not  so  much  as  suffer  him 
to  come  into  their  city ;  Pericles  having  prevailed  with 
the  people  to  make  an  order,  that  no  herald  or  am- 
bassador should  be  received  from  the  Lacedaemonians 
till  they  had  first  laid  down  their  arm*.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  the  Spartan  was  commanded  to  leave 
the  country  that  very  day:  and  an  escort  was  sent  to 
guard  him  to  the  frontiers,  and  to  prevent  his  speak- 
ing to  any  person  by  the  way.  At  his  taking  leave  of 
the  Athenians,  he  told  them,  that  day  would  be  the 
beginning  of  the  great  calamities  that  would  ensue  to 
all  Greece.  Archidamus,  seeing  no  hopes  of  a  recon- 
ciliation, marched  for  Attica,  at  the  head  of  60,000 
chosen  troo|>s. 

Pericles,  before  the  Lacedamonians  had  entered 
the  country,  declared  to  the  Athenians  thut  should 
Archidamus,  when  h«  was  laying  waste  their  territo- 
ries, spare  his  (Perirles's)  lands,  either  on  account  of 
the  right?  of  hospitality  which  subsisted  between  them, 
or  to  furnish  his  enemies,  and  those  who  envied  him, 
with  a  handle  to  slander  him,  as  holding  intelligence 
with  him,  he  from  that  day,  made  over  all  his  land* 
and  house*  to  the  citv  of  Athens.  He  demonstrated 
to  the  Athenians,  that  the  welfare  of  the  state  de- 
pended upon  consuming  the  enemy's  tioop«,  by  pro- 
tracting the  war;  and  (hat  for  this  purpose  they  must 
mime  lia'ely  remove  all  their  effects  out  of  the  coun- 
try, retire  to  the  citi ,  and  shut  themselves  up  in  it 
without  ever  hazarding  a  battle.  The  Athenians, 
indeed,  had  not  forces  enough  to  take  the  field  and 
oppose  the  enemy.  Their  trooi»«,  exclusive  of  those 
in  garrison,  amounted  but  to  13,000  heavy-armed  sol- 
diers; and  16,000  inhabitants,  including  the  young 
•nd  old,  the  citizens  as  well  as  others,  who  were  ap- 
pointed to  defend  Athens:  and  besides  these,  1200 
troopers,  including  the  archers  who  rode  on  horse- 
bark,  and  1600  foot  archers.  This  was  the  whole 
armv  ofthn  Athenians.  But  their  chief  strength  con- 
sisted in  a  fleet  of  300  galleys,  part  of  which  were  or- 
dered to  lay  wmte  the  enemy's  country,  and  the  rest 
to  awe  the  allies,  on  whom  contributions  were  levied, 
without  which  the  Athenians  could  not  defray  the 
expense*  of  the  war. 

The  Athenian*,  animated  by  the  ardent  exhorta- 
tions of  Pericle*.  brought  from  the  country  their 
wive?,  their  children,  their  furniture,  and  oil  their 
effects,  after  which  they  pulled  down  their  houses, 
and  even  carried  off  the  timber.  With  regard  to  the 
cattle  of  all  kinds,  they  conveyed  them  into  the  island 
of  F.uboea  and  the  neighbouring  isles.  However,  they 


were  deeply  afflicted  at  jis  sad  and  precipitate  mi- 
gration, and  it  drew  plentiful  tear:  from  thf  ir  eves 
From  the  time  that  the  Persians  had  left  their  coun> 
try,  that  is,  for  near  fifty  years,  they  had  enjoyed  th» 
tweets  of  peace,  wholly  employed  in  cultivating  their 
lands,  and  feeding  their  flocks.  But  now  they  were 
obliged  to  abandon  every  thing.  They  took  up  their 
habitations  in  the  city,  as  conveniently  as  they  coulu, 
in  the  midst  of  such  confusion;  retiring  either  to  their 
relations  or  friends:  and  some  withdrew  even  to  the 
temples  and  other  public  places. 

In  the  mean  lime,  the  Lacedaemonians,  being  set  out 
upon  their  march,  entered  the  country,  and  encamped 
at  CEnoe,  which  is  the  first  fortress  towards  Bueotia. 
They  employed  a  long  time  in  preparing  for  the  at- 
tack, and  raising  the  batteries;  for  which  reason  com- 
plaints were  made  against  Archidamus,  as  if  he  car- 
ried on  the  war  indolently,  because  he  had  not  ap- 
proved of  it.  He  was  accused  of  being  toj  slow  in 
liis  marches,  and  of  encamping  too  long  near  Corinth. 
He  was  also  charged  with  having  been  too  dilatory 
in  raising  the  army,  as  if  he  had  desired  to  give  the 
Athenians  opportunity  to  carry  off  all  their  effects  out 
of  the  country;  whereas  had  he  marched  speedily  intc 
it,  all  they  had  might  have  been  plundered  an'd  de- 
stroyed. His  design,  however,  was  to  engage  the 
Athenians,  by  these  delays,  to  agree  to  an  accommo- 
dation, and  to  prevent  a  rupture,  the  consequences  of 
which  he  foresaw  would  be  pernicious  to  all  Greece. 
Finding,  after  making  several  assaults,  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  take  the  city,  he  raised  the 
siege,  and  entered  Attica  in  the  midst  of  the  harvest. 
Having  laid  waste  the  whole  country, he  advanced  as 
far  as  Acharnae.one  of  the  greatest  towns  near  Athens, 
and  but  1500  paces  from  the  city.  He  there  pitched 
his  camp,  in  hopes  that  the  Athenians,  exasperated  to 
see  him  advanced  so  near,  would  sally  out  to  defend 
their  country,  and  give  him  an  opportunity  of  coming 
to  a  battle. 

It  indeed  was  not  without  much  difficulty  that  the 
Athenians  (haughty  and  imperious  a*  they  were) 
could  endure  to  be  braved  and  insulted  in  this  man- 
ner by  an  enemy,  whom  they  did  not  think  superior 
to  themselves  in  courage.  They  were  eye-witnesses 
of  the  dreadful  havoc  made  of  their  lands,  and  saw 
all  their  houses  and  farms  in  a  blaze.  They  could  no 
longer  bear  this  sad  spectacle,  and  therefore  demand- 
ed fiercely  to  be  led  out  against  the  Lacedaemonians 
be  the  consequence  what  it  would.  Pericles  saw 
plainly,  that  the  Athenians  would  thereby  hazard 
every  thins,  and  expose  their  city  to  certain  destruc- 
tion, should  -they  march  out  to  engage,  under  the 
walls  of  their  city,  an  army  of  60,000  fighting  men 
composed  of  the  choicest  troops  at  that  time  in  Bo?o- 
tia  and  Peloponnesus.  Besides,  he  had  made  it  hit 
chief  maxim  to  spare  the  blood  of  the  citizens,  since 
that  was  an  irreparable  loss.  Pursuing  inflexibly, 
therefore,  the  plan  he  had  laid  down,  and  studious  of 
nothing  but  how  he  might  check  the  impatience  and: 
ardour  of  the  Athenians,  he  was  particularly  careful 
not  to  assemble  either  the  senate  or  the  people,  lest 
they  should  form  some  fata)  resolution,  in  spite  of  all 
the  opposition  in  his  power.  His  friends  used  every 
effort  imaginable  to  make  him  change  his  conduct. 
His  enemies,  on  the  other  side,  endeavoured  to  stag- 
ger him  by  their  menaces  and  slanderous  discourses. 
They  strove  to  sting  him  by  songs  and  satires,  in 
which  they  aspersed  him  as  a  man  of  a  cowardly, 
unfeeling  disposition,  who  basely  gave  up  liis  country 
to  the  sword  of  the  enemy.  But  no  man  showed  to 
much  rancour  against  Pericles  as  Oleon.*  He  was  the 
son  of  a  currier,  and  also  followed  that  trade  himself. 
He  had  raised  him«elfliy  faction,  and  probably  by  a 
species  of  merit  which  those  must  possess  who  would 
rise  in  popular  governments.  He  had  a  thundering 
and  overbearing  voice;  and  possessed  besides  in  a 
wonderful  manner,  the  art  of  gaining  the  people,  and 
engaging  them  in  his  interest.  It  was  he  who  ennctea 
a  law,  that  three  o/io/t  (not  two  as  before)  should  b« 
given  to  each  of  the  6000  judges.  The  characteris- 


i  Grume  primis  eventibui    metum   ant   fiduciam   gigul. 
Tket'l.  -Innul.  \.  xiii.  c.  31. 


•  It  it  he   whom   Arintophane*   has  >Dvr;ighod    so  mack 
agaiajt  in  toveral  of  bit  comedies. 


300 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


tict  which  more  immediately  distinguished  him  were, 
an  unbounded  self-conceit,  a  ridiculous  arrogance  ot 
his  uncommon  merit,  and  a  boldness  of  speech,  which 
he  carried  to  the  highest  pitch  of  insolence  and  effron- 
tery, and  spared  no  man.  But  none  of  these  things 
could  move  Pe:icles.'  His  invincible  strength  of 
mind  raised  him  above  low,  vulgar  clamours.  Like  a 
good  pilot  in  a  raging  storm,  who,  after  he  has  given 
out  the  proper  orders,  and  taken  all  the  precautions 
necessary,  is  studious  of  nothing  but  how  to  make  the 
best  use  of  his  art,  without  suffering  himself  to  be 
moyed  by  the  tears  or  entreaties  of  those  whom  fear 
has  distracted;  Periclt-s,  in  like  manner,  after  having 
put  the  city  in  a  good  posture  of  defence,  and  posted 
guards  in  all  places  to  prevent  a  surprise,  followed 
those  counsels  which  his  prudence  suggested,  entire- 
ly regardless  of  the  complaints,  the.  taunts,  and  licen- 
tious invectives,  of  the  citizens;  from  a  firm  persua- 
sion, that  he  knew  much  better  than  they  in  what 
manner  they  were  to  be  governed.  It  then  appeared 
evidently,  says  Plutarch,2  that  Pericles  was  absolute 
master  of  the  minds  of  the  Athenians,  since  he  pre- 
vailed so  far  (at  such  a  juncture  as  this)  as  to  keep 
them  from  sallying  out  of  the  city;3  as  if  he  had  kept 
the  keys  of  the  city  in  his  own  possession,  and  fixed 
on  their  arms  the  seal  of  his  authority,  to  forbid  their 
inakinj-  use  of  them.  Things  happened  exactly  as 
Pericles  had  foretold;  for  the  enemy,  finding  the 
Athenians  were  determined  not  to  stir  out  of  their 
city,  and  having  advice  that  the  enemy's  fleet  were 
carrying  fire  and  sword  into  their  territories,  they 
raised  their  camp,  and  after  making  dreadful  havoc  in 
the  whole  country  through  which  they  marched,  they 
returned  to  Peloponnesus,  and  retired  to  their  several 
homes. 

It  might  here  be  asked,  why  Pericles  acted,  on  this 
occasion,  in  quite  a  different  manner  from  what  The- 
mistocles  had  done  about  fifty  years  before,  when,  at 
Xerxes's  approach,  he  made  the  Athenians  march  out 
of  their  city,  and  abandon  it  to  the  enemy.  But  a 
iitle  reflection  will  show,  that  the  circumstances  dif- 
fered widely.  Themistocles,  being  invaded  by  all  the 
forces  of  the  East,  justly  concluded  that  it  would  be 
impossible  for  him  to  withstand,  in  a  single  city,  those 
millions  of  barbarians  who  would  have  poured  upon 
it  like  a  deluge,  and  deprived  him  of  all  hopes  ot  be- 
ing succoured  by  his  allies.  This  is  the  reason  given 
by  Cicero.  Flnctum  enim  totius  Barbarice  ferre  urbs 
tma  non  poterat.  It  was  therefore  prudent  in  him 
to  retire  for  some  time,  and  to  let  the  confused  multi- 
tude of  barbarians  consume  and  destroy  one  another. 
But  Pericles  was  not  engaged  in  so  formidable  and 
oppressive  a  war.  The  odds  were  not  very  great,  and 
he  foresaw  it  would  allow  him  intervals  in  which  he 
might  breathe.  Thus,  like  a  judicious  man  and  an 
•hie  politician,  he  kept  close  in  Athens,  and  could  not 
ne  moved  either  by  the  remonstrances  or  murmurs  of 
the  citizens.  Cicero,  writing  to  his  friend  Atticus,4 
condemns  absolutely  the  resolution  which  Pompey 
formed  and  executed,  of  abandoning  Rome  to  0<esar; 
whereas  he  ought,  in  imitation  of  Pericles,  to  have 
•hut  himself  up  in  it  with  the  senate,  the  magistrates, 
•nd  the  flower  of  the  citizens  who  had  declared  in  his 
favour. 

After  the  Lacedaemonians  were  retired,  the  Athe- 
nians put  troops  into  all  the  important  posts  both  by 
ten  and  lan-l,  pursuant  to  the  plan  they  intended  to 
follow,  as  long  as  the  war  continued.  They  also  came 
to  «  resolution  to  keep  always  1000  talents  in  reserve,* 
•  nd  100  galleys;  and  never  to  use  them,  except  the 
enemy  should  invade  Attica  by  sea;  at  the  same  time 
making  it  death  for  any  man  "to  propose  the  employ- 
ing them  any  other  way. 

The  «f  alley*  which  had  been  sent  into  Peloponnesus 
made  dreadful  havoc  there,  which  consoled  the  Athe- 
nians, in  some  measure,  for  the  losses  they  had  sus- 


>  Sprrnrmli*  rumnrihuc  validu*.     Tacit. 
•  Plut.  An   Scni  ger.  lit.  reap.  p.  784. 


T.t{    Kt.ll;    T«»» 


. 

«  Lib  >ii   Efkt  II 


t  About  140.000/. 


|  tained.  One  day.  as  the  forces  were  going  on  beard 
and  Pericles  WHS  entering  his  own  ship,  a  sudden  and 
total  eclipse  of  the  sun  ensued,  and  the  earth  wai 
overspread  with  the  deepest  gloom.  This  phenome- 
non filled  the  minds  of  the  Athenians  with  the  utmost 
terror;  who  were  wont,  through  superstition,  and  the 
ignorance  of  natural  causes,  to  consider  such  events 
as  fatal  omens.  Pericles  seeing  the  pilot  who  was  on 
board  his  ship  astonished,  and  incapable  of  managing 
the  helm,  threw  his  cloak  over  his  face,  and  askeu 
him  whether  he  saw;  the  pilot  answerins,  that  the 
cloak  hindered  him;  Pericles  then  gave  him  to  under- 
stand, that  a  like  cause,  viz.  the  interposition  of  the 
vast  body  of  the  moon  between  his  eyes  and  the  sun 
prevented  his  seeing  its  splendour. 

The  first  year  ot  the  war  of  Peloponnesus  being 
now  elapsed,8  the  Athenians,  during  the  winter,  so- 
lemnized public  funerals,  according  to  ancient  custom 
l^a  custom  conformable  to  the  dictates  of  humanity 
and  gratitude.)  in  honour  of  those  who  had  lost  tln;ir 
lives  in  that  campaign,  a  ceremony  which  they  con- 
stantly observed,  during  the  whole  course  of  that  war. 
For  this  purpose,  they  set  up,  three  days  before,  a 
tent,  in  which  the  bones  of  the  deceased  citizens  were 
exposed,  and  every  person  strewed  Howers,  incense, 
perfumes,  and  other  things  of  the  same  kind,  upon, 
those  remains.  They  afterwards  were  put  on  carria- 
ges, in  coffins  made  of  cypress-wood,  every  tribe 
haying  its  particular  coffin  and  carnage;  but  in  one 
of  the  latter  a  large  empty  coffin7  was  carried  in  ho- 
nour of  those  whose  bodies  had  nut  been  found.  The 
procession  marched  with  a  grave,  majestic,  and  reli- 
gious pomp;  a  great  number  of  the  inhabitants,  both 
citizens  and  foreigners,  assisted  at  this  mournful  so- 
lemnity. The  relations  of  the  deceased  officers  and 
soldiers  stood  weeping  at  the  sepulchre.  These  bones 
were  carried  to  a  public  monument,  in  the  finest  sub- 
urb of  the  city,  called  the  Ceramicus;  where  we.-a 
buried,  in  all  ages,  those  who  lost  their  lives  in  the 
field,  except  the  warriors  of  Marathon,  who,  to  im- 
mortalize their  rare  valour  were  interred  in  the  field 
of  battle.  Earth  was  afterwards  laid  over  them,  and 
then  one  of  the  citizens  of  the  greatest  distinction 
pronounced  their  funeral  oration.  Pericles  was  now 
oppointed  to  exercise  this  honourable  office.  When 
the  ceremony  was  ended,  he  went  from  the  sepulchre 
to  the  tribunal,  in  order  to  be  the  better  heard,  and 
spoke  the  oration,  the  whole  of  which  Thucydides  has 
transmitted  to  us.  Whether  it  was  really  composed 
by  Pericles,  or  by  the  historian,  we  may  affirm  that  it 
is  truly  worthy  the  reputation  of  both  those  great  men, 
as  well  for  the  noble  simplicity  of  trie  style, as  forth* 
just  beauty  of  the  thoughts,  and  the  grandeur  of  the 
sentiments  which  pervade  every  part  of  it.  After  hav- 
ing paid,8  in  so  solemn  a  manner,  this  double  tribute 
of  tears  and  applauses,  to  the  memory  of  those  braie 
soldiers  who  had  sacrificed  their  lives  to  defend  the 
liberties  of  their  country :  the  public,  who  did  not  con- 
fine their  gratitude  to  empty  ceremonies  and  tears, 
maintained  their  widows,  and  all  their  infant  orphans. 
This  was  a  powerful  incentive  to  animate  the  courage 
of  the  citizens,9  for  great  men  are  formed,  where  me- 
rit is  best  rewarded. 

About  the  close  of  the  same  campaign,  the  Atheni- 
ans concluded  an  alliance  with  Sitalces,  king  of  the 
Odrysians  in  Thrace  ;  and,  in  consequence  of  thir 
treaty,  his  son  was  admitted  a  citizen  of  Athens* 
They  aUo  came  to  an  accommodation  with  Perdiccasv 
king  of  Macedonia,  by  restoring  to  him  the  city  ol 
Thermae,  after  which  they  joined  their  forces,  in  o^ 
der  to  carry  on  the  war  in  Chalcis. 

SECTION  II.— THE  PLAGUE  MAKES  DREADFrt 
HAVOC  IN  ATTICA.  PERICLES  IS  DIVESTED  t  f 
THE  COMMAND.  THE  LACEDAEMONIANS  HA\  I 
RECOURSE  TO  THE  PERSIANS  FOR  AID.  POTI«J  t 
IS  TAKEN  BY  THE  ATHENIANS.  PERICLES  IS  H  > 


«  ThiiRyd.  I-  ii.  p   122—130. 
'  Those  are  railed  Ocnolaphia 
•  Thucyd.  I.  ii.  p.  130. 
t   AJX.X  •}*(   :.',-  xtTrxt  ifirij;  fi 


»'      f 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


301 


•TOTIED  TO  mS  EMPr-OYME.VTS.     HIS  DEATH,  AND 
THAT  OF  A.N.tX  AGUIIAS. 

Second  and  third  years  of  the  War. 
IN  the  bfftiniiing  of  the  second  campaign,'  the  en- 
tin)    made  an  incursion  into   the  country  as  before, 
and  laid  it  waste.     Hut  the  plague 
A.  M.  "574.     made  a  much  greater  ('exaltation  in 

Ant.  J.  C.  430.     Athens;  the  like  having  never  been 
known.     It  is  relaud,  that  it  began 

I)  r.thippia,  whence  it  descended  into  Egypt,  from 
thence  spread  over  Libya,  and  a  great  part  of  Persia; 
and  at  List  broke  at  once,  like  a  Hood,  upon  Athens. 
Thiicydides,  who  himself  was  seized  with  that  distem- 
per, has  described  very  minutely  the  several  circum- 
stances and  symptoms  of  it,  in  order,  says  he,  that  a 
faillil'iil  and  exact  relation  of  this  calamity  may  serve 
•s  an  instruction  to  posterity,  in  case  the  like  should 
ever  again  happen.  Hippocrates,*  who  WAS  employed 
to  vi-it  the  tick,  has  also  described  it  as  a  physician, 
and  Lucretius3  as  a  poet.  This  pestilence  baffled  the 
utmost  efforts  of  art;  the  most  robust  constitutions 
were  unab'e  to  withstand  its  attacks;  and  the  greatest 
care  and  skill  of  the  physicians  were  a  feeble  help  to 
those  who  were  infected.  The  instant  a  person  was 
seized,  he  was  struck  with  despair,  which  quite  disa- 
bled him  from  attempting  a  cure.  The  assistance  that 
was  given  them  was  ineffectual,  and  proved  mortal  lo 
all  such  of  their  relations  or  friends  as  had  the  cour- 
age to  approach  them.  The  quantity  of  baggage, 
which  h?.d  been  removed  out  of  the  country  into  the 
city,  proved  very  noxious.  Most  of  the  inhabitants, 
for  want  of  lodging,  lived  in  little  cottages,  in  which 
they  could  scarce  breathe,  during  the  raging  heat  of 
the  summer,  so  that  they  were  soon  either  piled  one 
upon  the  other  (the  dead  as  well  as  those  who  were 
dying,)  or  else  crawling?  through  the  streets;  or  lying 
along  by  the  side  of  fountains,  to  which  they" had 
dragged  themselves,  to  quench  the  raging  thirst  which 
consumed  them.  The  very  temples  were  filled  with 
dead  bodies,  and  every  part  of  the  city  exhibited  a 
dreadful  image  of  death;  without  the  least  remedy 
for  the  present,  or  the  least  hopes  with  regard  to  the 
time  to  conn". 

The  plague,«  before  it  spread  into  Attica,  had  made 
great  ravages  in  Persia.  Artaxerxes,  who  had  been 
informed  of  the  high  reputation  of  Hippocrates  of 
Cos,  the  greatest  physician  of  that  or  any  other  age, 
caused  his  governors  to  write  to  him,  to  invite  him 
tnto  his  dominions,  in  order  iSat  he  might  prescribe 
to  those  who  were  infected.  The  king  made  him  the 
most  advantageous  offers;  setting  no  bounds  to  his 
rewards  on  the  side  of  interest,  and,  with  regard  to 
honours,  promising  to  make  him  equal  with  the  most 
considerable  persons  in  his  court.  The  reader  has 
already  been  told,  the  prodigious  regard  which  was 
thown  to  the  Grecian  physicians  in  Persia;  and,  in- 
deed, can  services  of  such  importance  be  too  well 
rewarded?  However,  all  the  glitter  of  the  Persian 
riches  and  dignities  was  not  able  to  tempt  Hippocra- 
tes ;  nor  stiile  the  hatred  and  aversion  which  was 
become  natural  to  the  Greeks  for  the  Persians,  ever 
since  the  latter  had  invaded  them.  This  great  physi- 
cian therefore,  sent  no  other  answer  than  this, — That 
he  was  free  from  either  want*  or  desires;  that  all  his 
cares  were  due  to  his  fellow-citizens  and  country- 
men; and  that  he  was  under  no  obligation  to  barba- 
lians.  the  declared  enemies  of  Greece.  Kings  are  not 
I'sed  to  denials.  Artaxerxes,  therefore,  in  the  highest 
transports  of  rage,  sent  to  the  citv  of  Cos,  the  native 
place  of  Hippocrates,  and  where  }\e  was  at  that  time; 
commanding  them  lo  deliver  up  to  him  that  insolent 
wretch,  in  order  that  he  might  be  brought  to  condign 
punishment;  and  threatening,  in  case  they  refused, 
to  lay  waste  their  city  and  island  in  juch'a  manner, 
that  not  the  least  footsteps  of  it  should  remain.  Ho«v- 
ever,  the  inhabitants  of  Cos  were  not  under  the  lea«t 
terror.  They  made  answer,  that  the  menaces  of  Da- 


i  Thucyd.  1.  ii.  p.  130—147     Diod.  p.  101,  102.      Pint  in 
Perirl   p.  "171. 
»  Ejiidcm.  I.  iii.  $  3. 
«  Hipjiocrat.  in  EpU 


EpUL 


*  Lib.  vi. 


rius  and  Xerxes  had  not  been  able  in  former  timet  to 
prevail  with  them  to  give  them  earth  and  water,  or 
to  obex  their  orders;  that  Ai  taxerxes's  threats  would 
be  equally  impotent:  th.it,  let  xvhat  would  be  the 
const-qut  hces,  they  would  never  give  up  their  fellow 
citizen;  and  that  they  depended  on  the  prottction  of 
the  gods. 

Hippocrates  had  said  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  his 
services  were  due  entirely  to  his  country  men.  And, 
indeed,  the  instant  he  was  sent  fur  to  Athens,  he  xveni 
thither,  and  did  not  once  stir  out  of  the  city  till  the 
plague  WHS  quite  ceased.  He  devoted  himself  f  ntirc  ly 
to  the  service  of  the  sick;  and  to  utoltiph  l.:n.-<  If,  a* 
it  were,  he  sent  several  of  his  disciples  into  all  parts 
ol  the  country;  after  haxing  instructed  thim  in  what 
manner  to  treat  their  patients.  The  Athenian*  were 
struck  with  the  dee|x>st  sense  of  gratitude  lor  tin's  ge- 
nerous care  of  Hippocrates.  They  therefore  ordained, 
l»y  a  public  decree,  that  Hippocrates  vhould  Le  initi- 
ated in  the  gieater  mysteries,  in  the  same  manner  as 
Hercules  the  son  of  Jupiter;  that  a  crown  ol  gold 
should  bt  presented  to  !>!!!•,  of  the  value  of  1000  sta- 
ters,* amounting  to  500  pistoles  French  money  ;  and 
that  the  decree  by  which  it  was  granted  him  should 
be  read  aloud  by  a  herald  in  the  public  games,  on  the 
solemn  festival  of  Panathensea:  that  the  freedom  of 
the  city  should  be  given  him,  and  himself  be  main- 
tained, at  the  public  charge,  in  the  Pry  taiieum,  all  hi* 
lifetime,  in  c;i>e  he  thought  proper:  in  tine,  that  the 
children  of  all  the  people  ol  Cos,  whose  city  had  giv- 
en birth  to  ao  gieat  a  man,  might  be  maintained  and 
brought  up  in  Athens,  in  the  same  luanntr  as  if  they 
had  been  born  there. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  enemy  having  marched  into 
Attica,  came  down  towards  the  coast,  and  advancing 
still  forward  lakl  waste  the  whole  country.  Pericles 
resolutely  adhering  to  the  maxim  he  had  established, 
not  to  expose  the  safety  of  the  state  to  the  hazard  of* 
battle,  would  not  sutler  his  troops  to  sally  out  of  the 
city:  however,  before  the  enemy  left  the  open  coun- 
try, he  sailed  to  Peloponnesus  with  100  galleys,  in 
order  to  hasten  their  retreat  by  so  powerful  a  diver- 
sion; and  after  having  made  a  dreadful  havoc  (as  he 
had  done  the  first  year)  he  returned  into  the  city. 
The  plague  was  still  there  as  well  as  in  the  fleet,  and 
it  spread  to  those  troops  that  were  besieging  Potidaea. 

The  campaign  being  thus  ended,  the  Athenians, 
who  saw  their  country  depopulated  by  two  great 
scourges,  war  and  pestilence,  began  to  despond  and 
to  murmur  against  Pericles;  considering  him  as  the 
author  of  all  their  calamities,  as  he  had  involved  them 
in  that  fatal  war.  They  therefore  sent  a  deputation  to 
Lacedaemonia,  to  obtain,  if  possible,  an  accommoda- 
tion by  some  means  or  other,  firmly  resolved  to  make 
whatever  concessions  should  be  demanded  of  them; 
hoxvever,  the  ambassadors  returned  back  without  be- 
ing able  to  obtain  any  terms.  Complaints  and  mur- 
murs now  broke  out  afresh;  and  the  whole  city  xvai 
in  such  a  trouble  and  confusion,  as  seemed  to  prog- 
nosticate the  worst  of  evils.  Pericles,  in  the  midst 
of  this  universal  consternation,  could  not  forbear  as- 
sembling the  people;  and  endeavoured  to  soften,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  encourage  them,  by  ju^tifx  ing 
himself.  "  The  reasons,"  says  he.  "  which  induced  you 
to  undertake  this  war,  and  which  you  all  approved  at 
that  time,  are  still  the  same;  and  are  not  changed  by 
the  alteration  of  circumstances,  which  neither  you  nor 
myself  could  foresee.  Had  it  been  left  to  your  op- 
tion to  make  choice  of  peace  or  xvar,  the  former  would 
certainly  have  been  the  most  eligible:  but  as  there 
was  no  other  means  for  preserving  your  liberty,  but 
by  drawing  the  sword,  was  it  possible  for  you  to  hes- 
itate? If  xve  are  citizens  who  truly  hive  our  coun- 
try, ought  our  private  misfortunes  to  make  us  neglect 
the  common  welfare  of  the  state?  Every  man  feel* 
the  evii  which  afflicts  himself,  because  it  is  present; 
but  no  one  is  sensible  of  the  good  which  will  rtsjlt 
from  it,  because  it  is  not  come.  Have  yon  forgotten 
the  strength  and  grandeur  of  your  empire?  Of  the 
two  parts  which  form  this  globe  of  ours,  viz.  the  land 


»  The  Attk  staler  wan  a  gold  coin  weighirj  tw«  draehmf 
It  ii  in  the  enigma1  >.?•••*'  z1*  '"*• 


302 


HISTORY  OF  1  HE 


and  sea,  you  have  absolute  possession  of  the  latter; 
and  ii  ri  king,  nor  any  other  power  is  able  to  oppose 
your  fleets.  The  question  now  is,  whether  you  will 
preserve  this  glory  and  this  empire,  or  resign  it  for 
ever.  Be  not  therefore  grieved  berause  you  are  de- 
prived of  a  few  rounlry-houses  and  gardens,  which 
ought  to  be  considered  no  otherwise  than  as  the  frame 
of  the  picture,  though  you  would  seem  to  make  them 
the  picture  itself.  Consider,  that  if  you  do  but  pre- 
serve your  liberty,  you  will  easily  recover  them;  but 
that  should  you  suller  yourselves  to  be  deprived  of 
this  blessing,  you  will  lose  every  valuable  possession 
with  it.  Do  not  show  less  generosity  than  your  an- 
cestors, who,  for  the  sake  of  preserving  it,  abandoned 
even  their  city;  and  who,  though  they  had  not  inhe- 
rited such  a  glory  from  their  ancestors,  yet  suffered 
the  worst  of  evils,  and  engaged  in  the  most  perilous 
enterprises,  to  transmit  it  to  you.  I  confess  that  your 
present  calamities  are  exceedingly  grievous,  and  I 
myself  am  duly  sensible  and  deeply  afflicted  for  them. 
But  is  it  just  in  you  to  exclaim  ajjHlnst  your  general, 
for  an  accident  that  was  not  to  be  diverted  by  all  the 
prudence  of  man;  and  to  make  him  responsible  for  an 
event,  in  which  he  has  not  the  least  concern?  We 
must  submit  patiently  to  those  evils  which  Heaven 
millets  upon  us,  and  vigorously  oppose  such  as  arise 
from  our  fellow-creatures.  As  to  the  haired  and 
jealousy,  which  attend  on  your  prosperity,  they  are 
the  usual  lot  of  all  who  believe  themselves  worthy  of 
commanding.  However,  hatred  and  envy  are  not 
long  lived,  hut  the  glory  that  accompanies  exalted 
actions  is  immortal.  Revolve  therefore  perpetually 
in  your  minds  now  shameful  and  ignominious  it  is 
for  men  to  bow  the  neck  to  their  enemies,  and  how 
glorious  it  is  to  triumph  over  them;  and  then,  ani- 
mated by  this  double  reflection,  march  on  to  danger 
with  joy  and  intrepidity,  and  do  not  crouch  so  tame- 
ly in  vain  to  the  Lacedasmonirins;  and  call  to  mind, 
that  tho*e  who  display  the  greatest  bravery  and  res- 
olution in  dangers,  acquire  the  most  esteem  and  ap- 
plause." 

The  motives  of  honour  and  fame,  the  remembrance 
of  the  great  actions  of  their  ancestors,  the  grateful 
title  of  sovereigns  of  Greece,  and  above  all,  jealousy 
against  Sparta,  the  ancient  perpetual  rival  of  Athens, 
were  the  usual  motives  which  Pericles  employed  to 
influence  and  animate  the  Athenians,  and  they  had 
hitherto  never  failed  of  success.  But  on  this  occasion, 
the  sense  of  present  evils  prevailed  over  every  other 
consideration,  and  stifled  all  other  thoughts.  The 
Athenians  indeed  did  not  design  to  sue  to  the  Lace- 
daemonians any  more  for  peace,  but  the  mere  sight 
and  presence  of  Pericles  was  insupportable  to  them. 
They  therefore  deprived  him  of  the  command  of  the 
army,  and  sentenced  him  to  pay  a  fine,  which,  accord- 
ing to  some  historians,  amounted  to  fifteen  talents, 
and,  according  to  others,  fifty.1 

However,  this  public  disgrace  of  Pericles  was  not 
to  be  very  lasting.  The  anger  of  the  people  was  ap- 
peased by  this  first  effort,  and  had  spent  itself  in  this 
injurious  treatment  of  him,  as  the  bee  leaves  its  sting 
in  the  wound.  But  he  was  not  now  to  happy  with 
regard  to  his  domestic  evils;  for,  besides  his  having 
lost  a  great  number  of  his  friends  and  relations  by  the 
pestilence,  feuds  and  divisions  had  long  reigned  in 
his  family.  Xanthippus.  his  eldest  son,  who  himself 
was  extremely  profuse,  and  had  married  a  young  wife 
no  less  extravagant,  could  not  bear  his  father's  exact 
economy,  who  allowed  him  but  a  very  small  sum  for 
hii  pleasures.  This  made  him  borrow  money  in  his 
father]*  name.  When  the  lender  demanded  his  debt 
of  Pericles,  he  not  only  refused  to  pay,  but  even  pros- 
ecuted him  for  it.  Xanthippus  was  &o  enraged,  that 
he  inveighed  in  the  strongest  terms  against  his  father, 
exclaiming  against  him  in  all  places,  and  ridiculing 
openly  the  assemblies  he  held  at  his  house,  and  his 
conferences  with  the  Sophists.  He  did  not  know  that 
•  son.  though  treated  unjustly  (which  was  far  other- 
wise in  his  Cflse,)  ought  to  submit  patiently  to  the 
injustice  of  his  father,  as  a  citizen  ought  to  suffer  that 
•f  his  country. 

<  Fifteen  or  fifty  thoa»and  French  crown*. 


The  plague  carried  off  Xanthippns.  At  the  same 
tir.ie  Pericles  lost  his  sister,  with  many  of  his  rela 
tions  and  best  friends,  whose  assistance  he  most  want- 
ed in  the  administration.  But  he  did  not  sink  uncjei 
these  losses;  his  strength  of  mind  was  not  shaken  bi 
them ;  and  he  was  not  seen  to  weep  or  show  the  usua) 
marks  of  sorrow  at  the  grave  of  any  of  his  relations, 
till  the  death  of  Paralus,  the  last  of  his  legitimate 
children.  Stunned  by  that  violent  blow,  he  did  hit 
utmost  to  preserve  his  usual  tranquillity,  and  nol 
show  any  outward  symptoms  of  sorrow.  But  when 
he  was  to  put  the  crown  of  flowers  upon  the  head  of 
his  dead  son,  he  could  not  support  the  cruel  specta- 
cle, nor  stifle  the  transports  of  his  grief,  which  forced 
its  way  in  cries,  in  sobs,  and  a  flood  of  tears. 

Pericles,  misled  by  the  principles  of  a  false  philos- 
ophy, imagined,  that  bewailing  the  death  of  his  rela- 
tions and  children,  would  betray  a  weakness  incon- 
sistent with  that  greatness  of  soul  which  he  Lad  ever 
shown:  and  that  on  this  occasion,  the  sensibility  of 
the  father  would  sully  the  glory  of  the  conqueror 
How  gross  an  error!  h'ow  childish  an  illusion!  which 
either  makes  heroism  consist  in  wild  and  snvage  cru- 
elty;  or,  leaving  the  same  grief  and  confusion  in  the 
mind,  assumes  a  vain  outside  of  constancy  and  reso- 
lution, merely  to  he  admired.  But  does  martial  bra- 
very extinguish  nature?  Is  a  man  dead  to  all  feel- 
ing, because  he  makes  a  considerable  figure  in  the 
state?  The  emperor  Antonius  had  a  much  juste? 
way  of  thinking,  when  on  occasion  of  Marcus  Aure- 
lius's  lamenting  the  aeath  of  the  person  who  had 
brought  him  up,  he  said,  "Suffer  him  to  be  a  man, 

tor  neither  philosophy  nor  sovereign iy  renders  us  in- 

W,,«  o    j 

e.   » 

Fickleness  and  inconstancy  were  the  prevailing 
characteristics  of  the  Athenians;  and  as  these  carried 
them  on  a  sudden  to  the  greatest  excesses,  they  soca 
brought  them  back  again  within  the  bounds  of  mode- 
ration and  gentleness.  It  was  not  long  before  they 
repented  the  injury  they  had  done  Pericles,  and  ear- 
nestly wished  to  see  him  again  in  their  assemblies, 
By  dint  of  suffering,  they  began  to  be  in  some  mea- 
sure inured  to  their  domestic  misfortunes,  and  to  be 
fired  more  and  more  with  a  zeal  for  their  country'* 
glory;  and  in  their  ardour  for  reinstating  its  affairs 
they  did  not  know  any  person  more  capable  of  effect- 
ing it  than  Pericles.  He,  at  that  time,  never  ftirred 
out  of  his  house,  and  was  in  the  utmost  grief  for  the 
loss  he  had  sustained.  However,  Alcibiades  and 
the  rest  of  his  friends  entreated  him  to  go  abroad 
and  show  himself  in  public.  The  people  asked  him 
pardon  for  their  ungrateful  usage  to  him;  and  Peri- 
cles, moved  with  their  entreaties,  and  persuaded  that 
it  did  not  become  a  good  citizen  to  harbour  the  least 
resentment  against  his  country,  resumed  the  govern- 
ment. 

About  the  end  of  the  second  campaign,  some  am- 
bassadors had  set  out  from  Lacedoemon,  commissioned 
to  solicit  the  king  of  Persia's  alliance,  and  engage 
him  to  furnish  a  sum  of  money  for  maintaining  the 
fleet:  this  step  was  most  disgraceful  to  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians who  called  themselves  the  deliverers  of  Greece, 
since  they  thereby  retracted  or  sullied  the  glorious 
actions  they  had  formerly  achieved  in  her  defence 
against  Persia.  They  went  by  way  of  Thrace,  in 
order  to  disengage  Sitalces  from  the  alliance  of  the 
Athenians  and  prevail  with  him  to  succour  Potidaea, 
But  they  here  met  with  some  Athenian  ambassador* 
who  caused  them  to  be  arrested  as  disturbers  of  the 
public  peace,  and  afterwards  to  be  sent  to  Athens, 
where,  without  suffering  them  to  be  heard,  they  were 
put  to  death  the  same  day;  and  their  bodies  thrown 
on  a  dung-hill,  by  way  of  reprisal  on  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians, who  treated  all  who  were  not  of  their  party  in 
the  same  inhuman  manner.  It  is  scarce  possible  to 
conceive  how  two  cities,  which  a  little  before,  weresi, 
strongly  united,  and  ought  to  have  prided  themselves 
upon  snowing  a  mutual  civility  anu  forbearance  to- 
wards each  other,  could  contract  so  inveterate  a  ha- 


•  Permitte  illi,  ut  homo  tit;  neque  enim  vel  philosophic 
vel  imperium  tollit  affectui.    Jul.  Capital,  in  tit. 
Pit. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


Irecl,  and  break  into  such  cru«l  act*  of  Tiolence,  as 
infringed  all  the  laws  of  war,  hjmanity,  and  nations: 
and  prompt  them  to  exercise  greater  cruelties  upon 
one  another,  than  if  they  had  been  at  war  with  bar- 
barians. 

Potidaea  bad  now  been  besieged  almost  three  years; 
when  the  inhabitants,  reduced  to  extremity,  and  in 
such  want  of  provisions  that  soir.e  fed  on  human  flesh, 
and  nut  expecting  any  succours  from  the  Ptloponne- 
sians,  whose  attempts  in  Attica  had  all  proved  abor- 
tive, surrendered  on  conditions.  The  circumstances 
which  made  the  Athenians  treat  them  with  lenity, 
were,  the  severity  of  the  weather,  which  exceedingly 
annoyed  the  besiegers;  and  the  prodigious  expense 
of  th'e  siege,1  which  had  already  cost  2000  talents.1 
They  therefore  came  out  of  the  city  with  their  wives 
and  children,  as  well  citizens  as  foreigners,  with  e»ch 
but  one  suit  of  clothes,  and  the  women  two,  and  car- 
ried off  nothing  but  a  little  monev  to  procure  them  a 
settlement.  The  Athenians  blamed  their  generals  for 
granting  this  capitulation  without  their  order;  be- 
cause otherwise,  as  the  citizens  were  reduced  to  the 
utmost  extremities,  they  would  have  surrendered  at 
discretion.  They  sent  a  colony  thither. 

The  first  thing  Pericles  did  after 
A.  M.  3575.     his  being  re-elected  generalissimo, 

Ant.  J.  C.  429.  was  to  propose  the  abrogating  of 
that  IHW  which  he  himself  had 
caused  to  be  enacted  against  bastards,  when  he  had 
some  legitimate  children.  It  declared,  that  such  on- 
ly should  be  considered  as  native  and  legitimate  Athe- 
nians, whose  fathers  and  mothers  were  both  natives 
of  Athens;  and  it  had  been  executed  just  before  with 
the  utmost  rigour.  For  the  king  of  Egypt  *  having 
sent  to  Athens  a  present  of  40,000  measures  of  corn 
to  be  distributed  among  the  people,  the  bastards,  on 
account  of  this  new  law,  were  involved  in  a  thousand 
law-suits  and  difficulties,  till  then  unpractised,  and 
which  had  not  been  so  much  as  thought  of.  Near  5000 
of  them  were  condemned  and  sold  as  slaves,  whilst 
14,0-10  citizens  were  confimed  in  their  privilege?,  and 
recognized  as  true  Athenians.  It  was  thought  very 
•trange,  that  the  author  and  promoter  of  this  law 
should  himself  desire  to  have  it  repealed.  But  the 
Athenians  were  moved  tp  compassion  at  the  domestic 
calamities  of  Pericles;  so  that  they  permitted  him  to 
enrol  his  bastard  in  the  register  of  the  citizens  of  his 
tribe,  and  to  let  him  bear  his  own  name. 

A  little  after  he  himself  was  in- 
A    M.  357G.     fected  with  the  pestilence.     Being 

Ant.  J.  C.  428.  extremely  ill,  and  ready  to  breathe 
his  last,  the  principal  citizens,  and 
such  of  his  friends  as  had  not  forsaken  him,  discours- 
ing together  in  his  bed-chamber  about  his  rare  merit, 
they  ran  over  his  exploits,  and  computed  the  number 
of  his  victories ;  for  whilst  he  was  generalissimo  of  the 
Athenians,  he  had  erected  for  the  glory  of  their  city 
nine  trophies,  in  memory  of  as  many  battles  gained 
by  him.  They  did  not  imagine  that  Pericles  heard 
what  they  *rtre  M  nng,  because  he  seemed  to  have 
lost  his  seruiev  fcul  it  was  far  otherwise,  for  not  a  sin- 
gle worvi  of  their  Discourse  had  escaped  him;  when, 
breaking  suddenly  Irom  his  silence,  "  I  am  surprised," 
•ays  ne,  ••  that  you  should  treasure  up  so  well  in  your 
memories,  and  extol  so  highly,  a  series  of  actions  in 
which  fortune  had  so  great  a  share,  and  which  are 
common  to  me  with  »o  many  other  generals:  and 
at  the  same  time  should  forget  the  most  glorions  cir- 
cumstance in  my  life, — I  mean  mv  never  having 
caused  a  single  citizen  to  put  on  mourning."  A  fine 
saying!  which  very  few  in  high  stations  can  declare 


•  The  army  which  be«ieped  PotHipa  connisted  of  3000 
men,  exclusive  of  the  IfOO  who  had  been  sent  under  the 
command  of  Phormio.  Every  soldier  recei»ed  (daily)  two 
drachms,  or  twenty  pence  (French,)  for  matter  and  man  ; 
and  those  of  the  galleys  had  the  tame  pay.  Thveyd.  1.  iii. 
p.  18-2. 

»  Abou'  280.000/. 

>  Plutarch  does  not  name  this  kin?.  Perhaps  it  was  Tna- 
nis,  son  to  Psammeiirhui  king  of  Libya,  who  had  rsuned 
part  of  the  Egyptian*  to  take  up  arms  against  Artaxerxes, 
and  to  whom  the  Athenians,  above  thirty  yean  before,  had 
sent  toftcouri  igainit  thej'eniani.  Tftvcjrd.  1.  i.  p.  68. 


with  truth.  The  Athenians  were  deeply  afflicted  at 
his  death. 

The  reader  has  doubtless  observed,  from  what  has 
been  said  of  Pericles,  that  in  him  were  united  most 
qualities  which  constitute  the  ereat  man;  as  those  ot 
the  admiral,  by  his  skill  in  naval  afiairs;  of  the  great 
captain,  by  his  conquest  and  victories;  of  the  finan- 
cier, by  his  excellent  regulations  of  the  public,  reve- 
nue ;  of  the  greot  politician,  by  the  extent  and  justness 
of  his  views,  by  his  eloquence  in  public  deliberations, 
and  by  the  dexterity  and  address  with  which  he  trans- 
acted affairs;  of  a  minister  of  state  bv  the  methods 
he  employed  to  increase  trade  and  promote  the  arts 
in  general;  in  fine,  of  father  of  his  ;  ountrv,  bv  the 
happiness  he  procured  to  every  individual,  and  which 
he  always  had  in  view,  as  the  true  scope  and  end  of 
his  administration. 

But  I  must  not  omit  another  characteristic  which 
was  peculiar  to  him.  He  acted  with  so  much  wis- 
dom, moderation,  disinterestedness,  and  zeal,  for  the 
public  good;  he  discovered,  in  all  things,  so  great  a 
superiority  of  talents,  and  gave  so  exalted  an  idea  of 
his  experience,  capacity,  end  integrity,  that  he  ac- 
quired the  confidence  of  all  the  Athenians;  and  fixed 
(in  his  own  favour.)  during  forty  years  that  he  gov- 
erned the  Athenians,  their  natural  fickleness  and  in- 
constancy. He  suppressed  that  jealousy,  which  an 
extreme  fondness  for  liberty  had  made  them  entertain 
against  all  citizens  distinguished  by  their  merit  and 
great  authority.  But  the  most  surprising  circumstance 
is,  he  gained  this  great  ascendant  merely  by  persua- 
sion, without  employing  force,  mean  artifices,  or  any 
of  those  arts  which  a  common  politician  excuses  in 
himself,  upon  the  specious  pretence  that  the  necessity 
of  the  public  affairs  and  the  interest  of  the  state,  re- 
quire tnem. 

Anaxagoras  died  the  same  year  as  Pericles.«  Plu- 
tarch relates  a  circumstance  concerning  him,  that 
happened  some  time  before,  which  must  not  be  omit- 
ted. He  says,  that  this  philosopher,  who  had  volun- 
tarily reduced  himself  to  excessive  poverty,  in  order 
that  he  might  have  the  greater  leisure  to  pursue  his 
studies;  finding  himself  neglected  in  his  old  age  by 
Pericles,  who,  in  the  multiplicity  of  the  public  affairs, 
had  not  always  time  to  think  of  him;  wrapped  his 
cloak  about  his  head,1  and  threw  himself  on  the 
ground,  in  the  fixed  resolution  to  starve  himself.  Pe- 
ricles hearing  of  this  accidentally,  ran  with  the.  utmost 
haste  to  the  philosopher's  house,  in  the  deepest  af- 
fliction. He  conjured  him,  in  the  strongest  and  most 
moving  terms,  not  to  throw  his  life  away;  adding, 
that  it  was  not  Anaxagoras  but  himself,  that  was  to 
be  lamented,  if  he  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose. so 
wise  and  faithful  a  friend;  one  who  was  so  capable  of 
giving  him  wholesome  counsels,  in  the  pressing  emer- 
gencies of  the.state.  Anaxagoras  then,  uncovering  a 
little  his  head,  spoke  thus  to  him :  Pcriclts,  those  tcho 
need  the  light  of  a  lamp  take  care  to  fttd  it  with  oil. 
This  was  a  gentle,  and  at  the  same  time  a  keen  and 
piercing,  reproach.  Pericles  ought  to  have  supplied 
his  wants  unasked.  Many  lamps  are  extinguished  in 
this  manner  in  a  country,  by  the  criminal  negligence 
of  those  who  ought  to  supply  them. 

SECTION  III. — THE  I,ACEDJEMOMATirS  BESIEGE 
PLAT.Ej;.  MITYLENE  IS  TAKEN  BY  THE  ATHE- 
NIANS. PLAT.«JE  SURRENDERS.  THE  PLAGUE 
BREAKS  OUT  AGAIN  IN  ATHENS. 

Fourth  andjiflh  years  of  the  war. 
THE  most  memorable  transaction 
of  the  following  years,'   was    the  A.  M.  3576. 

siege  of  Plataeae,  by  the  Lacedsemo-      Ant.  J.  C.  428. 
nians.  This  was  one  of  the  most  fa- 
mous sieges  of  antiquity,  on  account  of  the  vigorous 
efforts  of  both  parties;  but  especially  for  the  glorious 
resistance  made  by  the  besieged,  and   their  bold  and 


«  Plut.  in  PericL  p.  162. 

•  It  waj  the  custom  for  those  to  COTW  their  hcadi  with 
their  cloaks,   who  were  reduced  to  despair,  and  resolved  M 
die. 

•  Tburvd.  1.  ii.  p.  147-151.    Diod-  1.  xii.  p.  102- 10B. 


304 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


industrious  stratagem,  by  which  several  of  them  got 
out  of  '.he  city,  and  by  that  means  escaped  the  fury 
of  the  enemy.  The  Lacedaemonians  besieged  this 
place  in  the  beginning  of  the  third  campaign.  As 
soon  as  they  had  pitched  their  camp  round  the  city, 
i  i  order  to  lay  waste  the  surrounding  country,  the 
Platasans  sent  deputies  to  Archidamus,  who  com- 
manded on  that  occasion,  to  represent  that  he  could 
not  attack  them  with  the  least  shadow  of  justice,  be- 
cause that,  after  the  famous  battle  of  Plataea?,  Pausa- 
nias.the  Grecian  general,  ottering  up  a  sacrifice  in  their 
city  to  Jupiter  the  Deliverer,  in  presence  of  all  the 
allies,  had  given  them  their  freedom,  to  reward  their 
valourand  zeal ;  and  therefore  that  they  ought  not  to  be 
disturbed  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  liberties,  slurp  it 
had  been  granted  them  by  a  Lacedaemonian.  Archi- 
damus  answered,  that  their  demands  would  be  very 
reasonable,  had  they  not  joined  with  the  Athenians, 
ihe  professed  enemies  to  the  liberties  of  Greece;  but 
that,  if  they  would  disengage  themselves  from  their 
present  alliance,  or  at  least  remain  neuter,  they  then 
should  be  left  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  their  privile- 
ges. The  deputies  replied,  that  they  could  not  pos- 
sibly come  to  any  agreement,  without  the  cognizance 
of  Athens,  whither  their  wives  and  their  children 
were  retired.  The  Lacedaemonians  permitted  them  to 
send  thither;  when  the  Athenians  promising  solemnly 
to  succour  them  to  the  utmost  of  their  power,  the 
Plutteans  resolved  to  sutler  the  last  extremities  rather 
than  surrender;  and  accordingly  they  informed  the 
Lacedaemonians,  from  their  walls,  that  they  could  not 
comply  with  what  was  desired. 

Archidamus  then,  after  calling  upon  the  gods  to 
witness  that  he  did  not  first  infringe  the  alliance,  and 
was  not  the  cause  of  the  calamities  which  might  befall 
the  Plat;eans,  for  having  refused  the  just  and  reason- 
able conditions  offered  them,  prepared  for  the  siege. 
He  surrounded  the  city  with  a  circumvallation  of 
trees,  which  were  laid  long-ways,  very  close  together, 
with  their  boughs  interwoven,  and  turned  towards  the 
city,  to  prevent  any  person  from  going  out  of  it.  He 
afterwards  threw  up  a  platform  to  set  the  batteries 
on;  in  hopes  that,  as  so  many  hands  were  employed, 
they  should  soon  take  the  city.  He  therefore  caused 
trees  to  be  felled  on  Mount  Cithaeron,  and  interwove 
them  with  fascines,  in  order  to  support  the  terrace 
on  all  sides;  he  then  threw  into  it  wood,  earth,  and 
stones;  in  a  word,  whatever  could  help  to  fill  it  up. 
The  whole  army  worked  night  and  day,  without  the 
least  intermission,  during  seventy  clays;  one  half  of 
the  soldiers  reposing  themselves,  whilst  the  rest  were 
at  work. 

The  besieged  observing  that  the  work  began  to 
rise,  threw  up  a  wooden  wall  upon  the  walls  of  the 
city  opposite  to  the  platform,  in  order  that  they  might 
always  out  top  the  besiegers;  and  filled  the  hollow  of 
this  wooden  wall  with  the  bricks  they  took  from  the 
rubbish  of  the  neighbouring  houses;  so  that  the  beams 
of  timber  served  in  a  manner  as  a  defence  to  keep  the 
wall  from  falling,  as  it  was  carrying  up.  It  was  cov- 
ered, on  the  outside,  with  hides,  both  raw  and  dry, 
in  order  to  shelter  the  works  and  the  workmen  from 
the  fires  discharged  against  it.  In  proportion  an  it 
rose,  the  platform  was  raised  nlso,  which  in  this  man- 
ner was  carried  to  a  great  height.  But  the  besieged 
made  a  hole  in  the  opposite  wall,  in  order  to  carry 
off  the  earth  that  sustained  the  platform;  which  the 
besiegers  perceiving,  they  put  baskets  of  reeds  filled 
with  mortar  in  the  place  of  the  earth  which  had  been 
removed,  because  these  could  not  be  no  easilv  carried 
olf.  The  besieged,  therefore,  finding  their  first  stra- 
tagem defeated,  made  a  mine  under  ground  as  far  as 
the  platform,  in  order  to  work  under  cover,  and  to 
remove  from  it  the  earth  and  other  materials  of  which 
it  was  composed,  and  which  they  gave  from  hand  to 
hand,  as  far  a*  the  city.  The  besiegers  were  a  con- 
tiderable  time  without  perceiving  thi»,  till  at  last  Ikcy 
found  that  their  work  did  not  go  forward,  and  that 
the  more  earth  they  laid  on,  the  lowei  <t  sunk.  But 
the  besieged  judging  that  the  superior!  y  of  numbers 
would  at  length  prevail;  without  wasting  their  time 
%nv  longer  on  this  work,  or  carrying  the  wall  higher 
in  the  side  towards  the  bat'ery,  contented  themselves 


with  building  another  within,  in  the  form  of  a  hall 
moon,  both  ends  of  which  joined  to  the  wall ;  in  order 
that  they  might  retire  behind  it  when  the  first  wall 
should  be  forced;  and  so  oblige  the  enemy  to  make 
fresh  works. 

In  the  mean  time  the  besiegers  having  set  up  their 
machines  (doubtless  after  they  had  filled  up  the  ditch, 
though  Thucydides  does  not  say  this,)  shook  the  city 
wall  in  a  very  terrible  manner,  which,  though  it 
alarmed  the  citizens  very  much,  did  not  however  dis- 
courage them.  They  employed  every  art  that  their 
imagination  could  suggest  against  the  tnemy's  batte- 
ries. They  prevented  the  effect  of  the  battering-rant 
by  ropes'  which  turned  aside  their  strokes.  They 
also  employed  another  artifice:  the  two  em's  of  a  great 
beam  were  made  fast  by  long  iron  chains  to  two  large 
pieces  of  timber,  supported  at  due  distance  upon  Ihe 
wall  in  the  nature  oi'a  balance;  so  that  whenever  the 
enemy  played  their  machine,  the  besieged  lilted  up 
this  beam/and  let  it  fall  on  the  head  of  the  battering- 
ram,  which  quite  deadened  its  force,  and  consequent- 
ly made  it  of  no  effect. 

The  besiegers  finding  the  attack  did  not  go  on  cuc- 
cessfully,  and  that  a  new  wall  was  raised  ngainst  their 
platform,  despaired  of  being  able  to  storm  the  place, 
and  therefore  changed  the  siege  into  a  blockade. 
However,  they  first  endeavoured  to  set  fire  to  it,  ima- 
gining that  .the  town  might  easily  be  burnt  down,  as 
it  was  so  small,  whenever  a  strong  wind  should  rise; 
for  they  employed  all  the  artifice  imaginable,  to  make 
themselves  masters  of  it  as  soon  as  possible,  and  with 
little,  expense.  They  therefore  threw  fascines  into  the 
intervals  between  the  walls  of  the  city  and  the  in- 
trenchment  with  which  they  had  surrounded  them; 
and  filled  these  intervals  in  a  very  little  time,  because 
of  the  multitude  of  hands  employed  by  them;  in  order 
to  set  fire  at  the  same  time,  to  different  parts  ot  the 
city.  They  then  lighted  the  fire  with  pitch  niul  sul- 
phur, which  in  a  moment  made  such  a  prodigious 
blaze,  that  the  like  was  never  seen.  This  invention 
was  very  near  carrying  the  city,  which  hud  baffled  all 
others;  for  the  besieged  could  not  make  head  at  once 
against  the  fire  and  the  enemy  in  several  parts  of  the 
town;  and  had  the  weather  favoured  the  bes'ejjers, 
as  they  flattered  themselves  jt  would,  it  had  certainly 
been  taken:  but  history  informs  us,  that  an  exceed 
in<T  heavy  rain  fell,  which  extinguished  the  fire. 

This  last  effort  of  the  besiegers  having  been  defeat- 
ed as  successfully  as  all  the  rest,  they  now  turned 
the  siege  into  a  blockade,  and  surrounded  the  city 
with  a  brick  wall,  strengthened  on  each  side  with  a 
deep  ditch.  The  whole  army  was  engaged  succes- 
sively in  this  work,  and  when  it  was  finished,  they 
left  a  guard  over  half  of  it,  the  BcEOthuit  offering 
to  guard  the  rest;  upon  which  the  Lacednsniomaiw 
returned  to  Sparta,  about  the  month  of  October. 
There  were  now  in  Plntaeae  but  400  inhabitants,  and 
fourscore  Athenians,  with  110  women  to  drtss  their 
victuals,  and  no  other  person,  whether  freeman  or 
slave;  all  the  rest  having  been  sent  to  Athens  before 
the  siege. 

During  the  campaign,  some  engagements  were 
fought  both  by  sea  and  land,  which  1  omit  as  being 
of  no  importance. 

The  next  summer,8  which  was  the  fourth  year  of 
the  war,  the  people  of  Lesbos,  the  citizens  of  M«- 
thymna  excepted,  resolved  to  break  their  alliance 
with  the  Athenians.  They  had  designed  to  rebel  be- 
fore the  war  was  declared,  but  the  Lacedajmoniani 
would  not  receive  them  at  that  time.  The  citizens  of 
Methymna  sent  advice  of  this  to  the  Athenians,  a?«u- 
ring  them,  that  if  immediate  succour  was  not  sent,  the 
island  would  be  inevitably  lost.  The  dejection  of  the 
Athenians,  who  had  sustained  great  losses  by  the  war 
and  the  plague,  was  greatly  increased,  when  newi 
was  brought  of  the  revolt  of  so  considerable  an  island, 
whose  forces,  which  were  hitherto  unimpaired,  would 
now  join  the  enemy,  and  reinforce  them  on  a  sudden 


i  The  lower  end  of  those  ropei  formed  a  variety  of  flip- 
knots,  wilh  which  they  catched  the  head  of  the  battering 
rum.  which  they  raised  up  hy  the  help  of  the  machine. 

»  Thucyd.  1.  iii.  p.  174—207.    Diod.  1.  xii.  p.  108,  J09. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


305 


inr  the  addition  of  a  powerful  fleet.  The  Athenians 
therefore  immediately  sent  fortv  galleys  designed  for 
Peloponnesus,  which  accordingly  suited  for  Mitvlene. 
The  inhabitants,  though  in  great  consternation,  be- 
cause they  were  quite  unprepared,  yet  put  on  the  ap- 
pearance of  bravery,  and  sailed  out  of  the  port  with 
their  ships;  however,  being  repulsed,  they  proposed 
an  accommodation,  which  the  Athenians  lisUned  to, 
from  an  apprehension  that  they  were  not  strong 
enough  to  reduce  the  island  to  their  allegiance.  A 
suspension  of  arms  was  therefore  agreed  upon,  during 
which  the  Mityleneans  sent  ambassadors  to  Athens. 
The  fear  of  not  obtaining  their  demands,  made  them 
lend  others  to  Lacedasmonia.  to  desire  succours.  This 
was  not  ill  judged,  the  Athenians  sending  then)  an 
answer  which  they  had  no  reason  to  interpret  in  their 
ferour. 

The  ambassadors  of  Mitylene,  after  a  dangerous 
»oyage,  being  arrived  in  Lacada?monia,  the  Spartans 
deferred  giving  them  audience  till  the  solemnization 
of  the  Olympic  games,  in  order  that  the  allies  might 
hear  the  complaints  they  had  to  make.  I  shall  repeat 
their  whole  speech  on  that  occasion,  as  it  may  serve, 
at  once,  to  give  a  just  idea  of  Tburydides's  style,  and 
of  the  disposition  of  the  several  states  towards  the 
Athenians  and  Lacedaemonians.  "  We  are  sensible," 
laid  t'ie  ambassadors,  "  that  it  is  usual  to  treat  desert- 
ers well  at  (ir>t,  because  of  the  services  they  do  those 
whom  they  fly  to;  but  to  despise  them  afterwards  as 
traitors  to  their  country  and  friends.  This  is  far  from 
being  unjust,  when  they  have  no  inducement  to  stich 
a  change;  when  the  same  union  subsists,  and  the  same 
aids  are  reciprocally  granted.  But  it  is  far  otherwise 
between  us  and  the  Athenians:  and  we  entreat  you 
not  to  be  prejudiced  against  us,  because,  after  having 
Deen  treated  mildly  hy  the  Athenians  during  the  peace, 
we  now  renounce  their  alliance  when  they  are  unfor- 
tunate. For.  since  we  are  come  hither  to  demand  ad- 
mittance into  the  number  of  your  friends  and  allies, 
we  ought  to  begin  our  own  justification,  by  showing 
the  ju-tice  and  necessity  of  our  procedure;  it  being 
inif>'»s-ible  for  a  true  friendship  to  be  established  be- 
tween ndividuals,  or  a  solid  alliance  between  cities, 
'th  are  founded  on  virtue,  and  uniformity  of 
principle* md  sentiments. 

"  To  come  to  the  point:  The  treaty  we  concluded 
with  the  Athenians,  was  not  to  enslave  Greece,  but 
M  free  it  from  the  yoke  of  the  barbarians:  and  it  was 
concljded  from  the  retreat  of  the  Persians,  when  you 
renounced  the  command.  We  adhered  to  it  with 
pleasure.  10  long  as  the  Athenians  continued  to  enter- 
tain j'ist  designs:  but  when  we  saw  that  they  discon- 
tinued the  war  which  they  were  carrying  on  against 
the  enemy,  merely  to  opp'ress  the  allies,  we  could  not 
but  suspect  their  conduct.  And  as  it  was  extremely 
difficult,  in  so  great  a  diversity  of  interests  and  opin- 
ion*, lor  all  to  continue  in  strict  union;  and  still  harder 
to  make  head  against  them,  when  alone  and  sepa- 
rated: they  have  subjected,  by  insensible  degrees,  all 
the  a!lie«,  except  the  inhabitants  of  Chics,  and  our 
people;  and  used  our  own  forces  for  this  end.  For, 
at  the  same  time  that  they  left  us  seemingly  at  our 
liberty,  they  obliged  us  to  follow  them;  though  we 
could  no  longer  rely  on  their  word,  and  had  the 
strongest  reason  to  fear  the  like  treatment.  And,  in- 
deed, what  probability  is  there,  after  their  enslaving- 
all  the  other  st«tes,  that  they  should  show  a  regard 
to  us  only,  and  admit  us  upon  the  foot  of  equals,  if 
they  niHv  necome  our  masters  whenever  they  please; 
especially  as  their  power  increases  daily,  in  propor- 
tion as  ours  lessens?  A  mutual  fear  between  confed- 
erates, is  a  strcns:  mot'iTe  to  make  an  alliance  lasting, 
and  to  prevent  unjust  and  violent  attempts,  by  keep- 
ing all  things  in  an  equilibrium.  If  they  left  us  the 
enjoyment  of  our  liberties,  it  was  merely  because  they 
coul:l  not  intrench  upon  them  by  open  force,  but  only 
bv  that  eqr.it r  and  specious  moderation  they  have 
shown  us.  First  they  pretended  to  prove,  from  their 
moderate  onduct  in  regard  to  us,  that  as  we  are  free, 
we  should  a  A  have  marched  in  conjunction  with  them 
•gainst  flu  o'.her  allies,  had  they  not  given  them  just 
fro-jn<'..<  fji  complaint  Secondly,  by  attacking  the 
treaty  6  if  and  subduing  them  one  after  another, 


they  enabled  themselves,  by  their  nun,  to  subject  the 
most  powerful  without  difficulty,  who  at  last  woulc 
be  left  alone,  and  without  support;  wheresis,  had  they 
begun  by  invading  us,  at  the  time  that  the  allies  were 
possessed  of  all  their  strength,  and  were  able  to  make 
some  stand,  they  could  not  so  easily  have  completed 
their  design.  Besides,  as  we  had  a  large  fleet,  which 
would  strengthen  consideiably  whatever  party  we 
should  declare  for,  this  was  a  check  upoi.  them.  Add 
to  this,  that  the  high  regard  we  have  alwax  s  »hown  for 
their  republic,  and  the  endeavours  we  have  used  to 
gain  the  favour  of  those  who  commanded  it,  have 
suspended  our  ruin.  But  we  had  been  undone,  had 
not  this  war  broke  out;  and  of  this  the  fate  of  others 
leave>  us  no  room  to  doubt. 

"  What  friendship,  then,  what  lasting  alliance,  can 
be  concluded  with  those  who  never  are  friends  and 
allies,  but  when  force  is  employed  to  make  them  con- 
tinue such?  For,  as  they  were  obliged  to  pay  court 
to  us  during  the  war,  to  prevent  our  joining  with  the. 
enemy;  we  were  constrained  to  treat  them  with  the 
same  regard  in  time  of  peace,  to  prevent  their  lalling 
upon  us.  That  which  love  produces  in  other  places, 
was  with  us  the  effect  of  fear.  It  was  this  circum- 
stance that  made  an  alliance  subsist  some  time,  which 
both  parties  were  determined  to  break  upon  the  very 
first  favourable  occasion;  let  therefore  no  one  accuse 
us  for  the  advantage  we  now  take.  W  e  had  not  al- 
ways the  same  opportunity  to  save  ourselves,  as  they 
had  to  ruin  us;  but  were  under  a  necessity  of  waiting 
a  favouraole  juncture,  before  we  could  venture  to 
declare  ourselves. 

"  Such  are  the  motives  which  now  oblige  us  to  so- 
licit your  alliance:  motives,  the  equity  and  justice  of 
which  appear  very  strong  to  us,  and  conseouently 
call  upon  us  to  provide  for  our  safety :  we  should  have 
claimed  your  protection  before,  had  you  been  sooner 
inclined "  to  afford  it  us;  for  we  offered  ourselves  to 
you,  even  before  the  war  broke  out:  we  are  now  come, 
at  the  persuasion  of  the  Boeotians,  your  allies,  to  dis- 
engage ourselves  from  the  oppressors  of  Greece,  and 
join  our  arms  with  those  of  its  defenders;  and  to 
provide  for  the  security  of  our  state,  which  is  now  in 
imminent  danger.  If  any  thing  can  be  objected  to 
our  conduct,  it  is,  our  declaring  so  precipitately  with 
more  generosity  than  prudence,  and  without  having 
made  the.  least  preparations.  But  this  also  ought  to 
engage  you  to  be  the  more  ready  in  succouring  us; 
that  you  may  not  lose  the  opportunily  of  protecting 
the  oppressed,  and  avenging  yourselves  on  your  ene- 
mies. There  never  was  a  more  favourable  conjunc- 
ture than  that  which  now  offers  itself;  a  conjuncture, 
when  war  and  pestilence  have  consumed  their  forces, 
and  exhausted  their  treasure:  not  to  mention  that 
their  fleet  is  divided, by  which  means  they  will  not  be 
in  a  condition  to  resist  you,  should  you  invade  them 
at  the  spine  time  by  sea  and  land.  For,  they  either 
will  leave  u»  to  attack  you,  and  give  us  an  opportu- 
nity of  succouring  you;  or  they  will  oppose  us  alto- 
gether, and  then  you  will  have  but  half  their  forces 
to  deal  with. 

"  As  to  what  remains,  let  no  one  imagine  that  yon 
will  expose  yourselves  to  dangers  for  a  people  incapa- 
ble of  doing  vou  service.  Our  country  indeed  lies  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  you,  but  our  aid  is  near 
at  hand.  For  the  war  will  be  carried  on,  not  in  Atti- 
ca, as  is  supposed,  but  in  that  country  whose  revenue* 
are  the  support  of  Attica,  and  we  are  not  far  from  it. 
Consider,  also,  that  in  abandoning  us,  you  will  in- 
crease the  power  of  the  Athenians  by  the"  addition  of 
ours;  and  that  no  state  will  then  dare  to  revolt  against 
them.  But  in  succouring  us,  you  will  strengthen 
yourselves  with  a  fleet  which  you  so  much  want:  and 
you  will  induce  many  other  people,  after  our  exam- 
ple, to  join  you;  ancl  you  will  take  off  the  reproach 
cast  upon  you,  of  abandoning  those  who  have  recourse 
to  your  protection,  which  will  be  no  inconsiderable 
advantage  to  you  during  the  course  of  the  war. 

"  We  therefore  implore  you,  in  the  name  of  Jupiter 
Olympius,  in  whose  temple  we  now  are,  not  to  frus- 
trate the  hopes  of  the  Greeks,  nor  reject  suppliant* 
whose  preservation  may  be  highly  advantageous,  and 
whose  rum  may  be  infinitely  pernicious  to  vou.  Show 
2  A  3 


306 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


yoarselvej  such  now,  as  the  idea  entertained  of  your 
generosity,  and  the  extreme  danger  to  which  we  are 
reduced,  demand;  that  is,  the  protectors  of  the  af- 
flicted, the  deliverers  of  Greece." 

The  allies,  struck  with  these  reasons,  admitted 
then)  into  the  alliance  of  Peloponnesus.  An  immedi- 
ate incursion  into  the  enemy's  country  was  resolved, 
and  thai  the  allies  should  rendezvous  at  Corinth,  with 
two-thirds  of  their  forces.  The  Lacedaemonians  ar- 
rived tirst,  and  prepared  engines  for  transporting  the 
ships  from  the  gulf  of  Corinth  into  the  sea  of  Athens, 
in  order  to  invade  Attica  both  by  sea  and  land.  The 
Athenians  were  no  less  active  on  their  side;  but  the 
allies,  being  employed  in  their  harvest,  and  beginning 
to  grow  weary  of  the  war,  were  a  long  time  before 
they  met. 

During  this  interval,  the  Athenians,  who  perceived 
that  all  these  preparations  were  made  against  them, 
from  a  supposition  that  they  were  very  weak;  in  or- 
der to  undeceive  the  world,  and  show  that  they  were 
able  to  furnish  a  fleet  without  calling  in  any  of  their 
ships  from  before  Lesbos,  put  to  sea  a  fleet  of  100 
•ail,  which  they  manned  with  citizens  as  well  as  for- 
eigners; not  exempting  a  single  citizen,  except  such 
only  as  were  obliged  to  serve  on  horseback,  or  whose 
revenue  amounted  to  500  measures  of  corn.  After 
having  showed  themselves  before  the  isthmus  of  Co- 
rinth, to  make  a  display  of  their  power,  they  made 
descents  into  whatever  part  of  Peloponnesus  they 
pleased. 

They  never  had  had  a  finer  fleet.  They  guarded 
their  own  country,  i>nd  the  coasts  of  Euboea  and  Sa- 
lamis  with  a  fleet  of  100  ships:  they  cruised  round 
Peloponnesus  with  another  fleet  of  the  like  number 
of  vessels,  without  including  their  fleet  before  Les- 
bos and  other  places.  The  whole  amounted  to  up- 
wards of  250  galleys.  The  expenses  of  this  powerful 
armament  entirely  exhausted  their  treasure,  which 
had  been  very  much  drained  before  by  those  incurred 
by  the  siege  of  Potidaea. 

The  Lacedaemonians,  greatly  surprised  at  so  formi- 
dable a  fleet,  which  they  no  wavs  expected,  returned 
with  the  utmost  expedition  to  their  own  country,  and 
only  ordered  forty  galleys  to  be  fitted  out  for  the  suc- 
cour of  Mitylene.  The  Athenians  had  sent  a  rein- 
forcement thither,  consisting  of  1000  heavy-armed 
troops,  by  whose  assistance  they  made  a  contravalla- 
tion,  with  forts  in  the  most  commodious  places;  so 
that  it  wan  blocked  up  both  by  sea  and  land,  in  the 
beginning  of  winter.  The  Athenians  were  in  such 
great  want  of  money  for  carrying  on  this  siege,  that 
they  were  reduced  to  assess  themselves,  which  they 
had  never  before,  and  by  this  means  200  talents  '  were 
sent  to  it. 

The  peoplf  of  Mitylene  being  in 
A.  M.  3577.  want  of  all  things,  and  having  wait- 
Ant.  J.  C.  427.  ed  to  no  purpose  for  the  sjiccours 
which  the  Lacedaemonians  had  pro- 
mised them,  surrendered,  upon  condition  that  no 
person  should  be  put  to  death  or  imprisoned,  till  the 
ambassadors,  whom  they  should  send  to  Athens, 
were  returned;  and  that,  in  the  mean  time,  the  troops 
should  be  admitted  into  the  city.  As  soon  as  the 
Athenians  had  got  possession  of  the  city,  such  of  the 
factious  Mityleneans  as  had  fled  to  the' altars  for  re- 
fuge, were  conveyed  to  Tenedos,  and  afterwards  to 
Athens.  There  the  affair  of  the  Mityleneant  was  de- 
bated. As  their  revolt  had  greatly  exasperated  the 
people,  because  it  had  not  been  preceded  by  any  ill 
treatment,  and  seemed  a  mer«  effect  of  their  hatred 
for  the  Athenians,  in  the  first  transports  of  their  rage 
they  rest  Ived  to  put  nil  their  citizens  to  death  indis- 
criminately, and  to  make  all  the  women  and  children 
•laves;  and  immediately  they  sent  a  galley  to  put  the 
decree  in  execution. 

But  night  gave  them  leisure  to  reflect.  This  sever- 
ity was  judged  too  cruel,  and  carried  beyond  its  due 
bounds.  They  imagined  to  themselves  the  fate  of 
that  unhappy  city,  entirely  abandoned  to  slaughter, 
and  repented  their  having  involved  the  innocent  with 
the  guilty.  This  sudden  change  of  the  Athenians 


•  Two  hundred  thoucand  crowni,  about  45,0007.  sterling. 


gave  the  Mitylenean  ambassadors  some  little  glim- 
mering of  hope;  and  they  prevailed  so  far  with  the 
magistrates,  as  to  have  the  atiair  debated  a  second 
time.  Cleon,  who  had  suggested  the  first  decree,  a 
man  of  a  fiery  temper,  and  who  had  great  influence 
over  the  people,  maintained  his  opinion  with  much  ve- 
hemence and  heat.  He  represented,  that  it  was  un- 
worthy a  wise  government  to  change  with  every  wind, 
and  to  annul  in  the  morning  what  they  had  decreed 
the  night  before;  and  that  it  was  highly  important  to 
take  an  exemplary  vengeance  on  the  Mitylenean?.  in 
order  to  awe  the  rest  of  their  allies,  who  were  everjr 
where  ready  to  revolt. 

Diodorus,  who  had  contradicted  Cleon  in  the  first 
assembly,  now  opposed  his  arguments  more  strongly 
than  before.  After  describing,  in  a  tender  and  pa- 
thetic manner,  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  Mity- 
leneans, whose  minds  (he  said)  must  mc»--*aiily  be 
tortured  with  anxiety  and  suspense,  whilst  they  were 
expecting  a  sentence  that  was  to  determine  their 
fate;  he  represented  to  the  Athenians,  that  the  fame 
of  their  mildness  and  clemency  had  always  reflected 
the  highest  honour  on  them,  and  distinguished  them 
gloriously  from  all  other  nations.  He  observed,  that 
the  citnens  of  Mitvlene  had  been  drawn  involuntarily 
into  the  rebellion;  a  proof  of  which  was,  their  sur- 
rendering the  city  to  them  the  instant  it  was  in  their 
power  to  do  it:  they,  therefore,  by  this  decree,  would 
murder  their  benefactors  and  consequently  be  both 
unjust  and  ungrateful,  as.they  would  punish  the  inno- 
cent with  the  guilty.  He  observed  farther,  that  sup- 
posing the  Mityleneans  in  general  were  guilty,  it 
would  however  be  for  the  interest  of  the  Athenians 
to  dissemble,  in  order  that  the  rigorous  punishment 
they  had  decreed  might  not  exasperate  the  rest  of  the 
allies;  and  that  the  best  way  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
evil,  would  be  to  leave  room  for  repentance,  anil  not 
plunge  people  into  despair,  by  the  absolute  and  irre- 
vocable refusal  of  a  pardon.  His  opinion  therefore 
wax,  that  they  should  examine  very  deliberu.  ly  the 
cause  of  those  factious  Mityleneans  who  had  been 
brought  to  Athens,  and  pardon  all  the  rest. 

The  assembly  was  very  much  divided,  so  that  Di- 
odorus carried  it  only  by  a  few  votes.  A  second  galley 
was  therefore  immediately  fitted  out.  It  was  furnish- 
ed with  every  thing  that  might  accelerate  its  course; 
and  the  ambassadors  of  Mitylen*  promised  a  great 
reward  to  the  crew,  provided  they  arrived  in  time. 
They  therefore  made  extraordinary  exeitions,  and  did 
not  quit  their  oars  even  when  they  took  sustenance, 
but  ate  and  drank  as  they  rowed,  and  took  their  rest 
alternately;  and  very  happily  for  them  the  wind  was 
favourable.  The  first  galley  had  got  a  day  and  night's 
sail  before  them;  but  as  those  on  board  carried  ill 
news,  they  did  not  make  great  haste,  its  arrival  be- 
fore the  city  had  spread  the  utmost  consternation  in 
every  part  of  it:  but  this  consternation  was  increased 
infinitely,  when  the  decree,  by  which  all  the  citizens 
were  sentenced  to  die,  was  read  in  a  full  assembly. 
Nothing  now  was  heard  in  all  places  but  cries  and 
loud  laments.  The  moment  that  the  sentence  was 
going  to  be  put  in  execution,  advice  came  that  a  se- 
cond galley  was  arrived.  Immediately  the  cruel 
massacre  was  suspended.  The  assembly  was  again 
convened:  and  the  decree  which  granted  a  pardon 
was  listened  to  with  such  silence  and  joy,  as  is  much 
easier  conceived  than  expressed. 

All  the  factious  Mityleneans  who  had  been  taken, 
though  upwards  of  1000,  were  put  to  death.  The  city 
was  afterwards  dismantled,  the  ships  delivered  up,  and 
the  whole  island,  the  city  of  Methymna  excepted,  wa« 
divided  into  3000  parts,  300  of  which  were  consecra- 
ted to  the  service  of  the  gods;  and  the  rest  divided 
by  lot  among  such  Athenians  as  were  sent  thither,  to 
whom  the  natives  of  the  country  gave  a  revenue  of 
two  minae2  for  every  portion;  on  which  condition 
they  were  permitted  to  keep  possession  of  the  island, 
but" not  as  proprietors.  The  cities  which  belonged 
to  the  Mityleneans  on  the  coast  of  Asia,  were  all  sub- 
jected by  the  Athenians. 


'  The   Attic  raina  was  worth  100  drachms,  tha'.   :«    flft> 
French  livret. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


307 


During1  the  winter  of  the  preceding:  campaign,1  the 
inhabitant;  of  Plataeae,  having  lost  all  hopes  of  suc- 
cour, and  being  in  the  utmost  want  of  provisions 
formed  a  resolution  to  escape  through  the  enemy 
but  half  of  them,  struck  with  the  greatness  of  the 
danger  and  the  boldness  of  the  enterprise,  entirely 
lost  their  courage  when  they  ranie  to  the  execution; 
put  the  rest  (who  were  about  220  soldiers)  persisted 
in  their  resolution,  and  escaped  in  the  following  man- 
ner. 

Before  I  begin  the  description  of  their  escape,  it 
will  be  proper  to  inform  my  readers,  in  what  sense  1 
ose  certain  expressions  which  I  shall  employ  in  it.  In 
strictness  of  speech,  the  line  of  fortification  which  is 
znaHe  round  a  city  when  besieged,  to  prevent  sallies, 
is  called  contravallalion;  and  that  which  is  made  to 
prevent  any  succours  from  without,  is  named  circ'irn- 
vallation.  Both  these  fortifications  were  used  in  thU 
rege;  however,  for  brevity's  sake,  I  shall  use  only  the 
former  term. 

The  contravallation  consisted  of  two  walls,  at  six- 
teen feet  distance  one  from  the  other.  The  space 
between  the  two  walls  being  a  kind  of  platlbrm  or 
terrace,  seemed  to  be  but  one  single  building,  and 
composed  a  range  of  caierns  or  barracks,  whe~re  the 
soldiers  had  their  lodgings.  Lofty  towers  were  built 
around  it  at  proper  distances,  extending-  from  one  wall 
to  the  other,  in  order  that  they  might  be  able  to  de- 
fend themselves  at  the  same  ti'me  against  any  attack 
from  within  and  without.  There  was  no  going  from 
one  cazern  to  another  without  crossing  those  towers: 
and  on  the  top  of  the  wall  was  a  parapet  on  both 
sides,  where  n  guard  was  commonly  kept:  but  in  rainy 
weather,  the  soldiers  used  to  shelter  themselves  in  the 
lowers,  which  served  as  guard-houses.  Such  was  the 
eontravallation,  on  both  sides  of  which  was  a  ditch, 
the  earth  of  which  had  been  employed  in  making  the 
bricks  of  the  wall. 

The  besieged  first  ascertained  the  height  or  the 
w  II,  by  counting  the  rows  of  bricks  which  composed 
it;  and  this  they  did  at  different  times,  and  employed 
several  men  for  that  purpose,  in  orrler  that  they  might 
not  mistake  in  the  calculation.  This  was  the"  easfer, 
because,  as  the  wall  stood  at  a  small  distance,  every 
part  of  it  was  verv  visible.  They  then  made  ladders 
of  a  proper  length. 

All  things  being  now  ready  for  executing  the  de- 
sign, the  besieged  left  the  city  one  night  when  there 
was  no  moon,  in  the  mid«t  of  a  storm  of  wind  and 
rain.  After  crossing  the  first  ditch,  they  drew  near 
to  the  wall  undiscovered,  through  the  darkness  of  the 
night;  not  to  mention  that  the  noise  made  by  the 
rain  and  wind  prevented  their  being  heard.  They 
marched  at  some  distance  from  one  another,  to  pre- 
vent the  clashing  of  their  arm=,  which  were  light,  in 
order  that  those  who  carried  them  might  be  the  more 
active:  and  one  of  their  lees  was  naked,  to  keep  them 
from  sliding  so  easily  in  the  mire.  Those  who  car- 
ried the  ladders  laid  them  in  the  space  between  the 
tower«,  where  they  knew  no  guard  was  posted,  be- 
cause  it  rained.  That  instant  twelve  men  mounted 
the  ladders,  armed  with  only  a  coat  of  mail  and  a 
dagger,  and  marched  directly  to  the  towers,  six  on 
each  side.  They  were  followed  by  soldiers  armed  on- 
ly with  javelins,  that  they  might  mount  the  easier; 
•nd  the  shields  were  carried  after  them  to  be  used  in 
the  conflict. 

When  most  of  them  were  got  to  the  top  of  the 
wall,  they  were  discovered  by  the  falling  of  a  tile, 
which  one  of  their  comrades!  in  taking  hold  of  the 
parapet  to  keep  himself  steady,  had  thrown  down. 
The  alarm  was  immediately  given  from  the  towers, 
•nd  the  whole  camp  approached  the  wall  without  dis- 
covering the  occasion  of  the  outcry,  from  the  gloom 
of  the  night  and  the  violence  of  the  storm.  Besides 
which  those  who  had  stayed  behind  in  the  city,  beat 
an-  alarm  at  the  same  time,  in  another  quarter,  to 
make  a  diversion:  so  that  the  enemy  did  not  know 
which  way  to  turn  themselves  ,-nd  were  afraid  to  quit 
their  posts.  But  a  body  of  reserv  '  of  300  men,  who 
were  kept  for  any  unforeseen  accident  that  might 

i  Thucyd.  1.  iii.  p.  185-188. 


happen,  quitted  the  eontravallation,  and  ran  to  that 
part  where  they  heard  the  noise;  and  torches  were 
held  up  towards  Thebes,  to  show  that  they  must  run 
that  way.  But  those  in  the  city,  to  render  that  sig 
nal  of  no  use,  held  up  others  at  the  same  time  in  dif- 
ferent quarters,  having  prepared  them  on  the  wall  for 
that  purpose. 

In  the  mean  time,  those  who  had  mounted  first  hav- 
ing possessed  themselves  of  the  two  towers  which 
flanked  the  intervals  where  the  ladders  were  get,  and 
having  killed  those  who  guarded  them,  posted  them- 
selves there  to  defend  the  passage,  and  kept  off  the 
besiegers.  Then  setting  ladders  from  the  top  of  the 
wall  against  the  two  towers,  they  caused  a  good  num- 
ber of  their  comrades  to  mount,  in  order  to  keep  off, 
by  the  discharge  of  their  arrows,  as  well  those  rt-ha 
were  advancing  to  the  foot  of  the  wall,  as  others  who 
were  hastening  from  the  neighbouring  lowers.  Whilst 
this  was  doing,  they  had  time  to  set  up  several  lad- 
ders, and  to  throw  down  the  parapet,  that  the  rest 
might  come  up  with  greater  eas>e.  As  fast  as  they 
came  up,  they  went  down  on  the  other  side,  and  drew 
up  near  the  ditch  on  the  outside,  to  shoot  at  those 
who  appeared.  After  they  were  passed  over,  the  men 
who  were  in  the  towers  came  down  last,  and  made  to 
the  ditch  to  follow  after  the  rest. 

That  instant  the  guard  of  300,  with  torches,  rarae 
up.  However,  as  the  Plataeans  saw  their  enemus 
bv  this  light  bt-tter  than  they  were,  seen  by  them, 
they  took  a  surer  aim,  by  which  means  the  last  cross- 
ed the  ditch  without  being  attacked  in  their  passage: 
but  this  was  not  done  without  difficulty,  because  the 
ditch  was  frozen  over,  and  the  ice  would  not  bear,  on 
account  of  the  thaw  and  heavy  rains.  The  violence 
of  the  storm  was  of  great  advantage  to  them. 

After  all  were  passed  over,  they  took  the  road  to- 
wards Thebes,  the  better  to  conceal  their  retreat:  be- 
cause it  was  not  likely  that  they  would  flee  towards  a 
city  of  the  enemy's.  And  accordingly  they  perceived 
the  besiegers,  with  torches  in  their  hands,  pursuing 
them  in  the  road  that  led  to  Athens.  After  keeping 
that  towards  Thebes  about  six  or  seven  stadia,'  they 
turned  short  towards  the  mountain,  and  resumed  the 
road  towards  Athens,  whither  212  arrived  out  of  220 
who  had  quitted  the  place;  the  rest  having  returned 
back  through  fear,  one  archer  excepted,  who  was 
taken  on  the  side  of  the  ditch  of  eontravallation.  The 
aesiegers,  after  having  pursued  them  to  no  purpose, 
returned  to  their  camp. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  Plataeans  who  remained  in 
the  city  supposing  that  all  their  companions  had  been 
killed  (because  those  who  returned,  to  justify  them- 
selves, affirmed  they  were.)  sent  a  h  era  lei  to  demand 
the  dead  bodies;  but  being  told  the  true  state  of  the 
affair,  he  withdrew. 

About  the  end  of  the  following  campaign,*  which 
s  that  wherein  Mitylene  was  taken,  the  Platseans  be- 
ng  in  absolute  want  of  provisions,  and  unable  to  make 
ihe  least  defence,  surrendered,  upon  condition  that 
:hey  should  not  be  punished  till  they  had  been  tried 
3V  the  due  forms  of  justice.  Five  commissioners 
came  for  this  purpose  from  Laceda?mon:  and  these, 
without  charging  them  with  any  crime,  barely  asked 
them,  whether  they  had  done  any  service  to  the  La- 
cedajmonians  and  'the  allies  in  this  war'.'  The  Pla- 
tans were  much  surprised,  as  well  as  embarrassed 
bv  this  question;  and  were  sensible,  that  it  had  been 
suggested  by  the  Thebans,  their  professed  enemies 
who  had  vowed  their  destruction.  The\  therefore 
mt  the  Lacediemonians  in  mind  of  the  services  they 
lad  done  to  Greece  in  general,  both  at  the  battle  of 
Artemisium,  and  that  of  Plata?se;  and  particularly  in 
[jicedspmonia,  at  the  time  of  the  earthquake,  which 
was  followed  by  the  revolt  of  their  slaves.  The  only 
reason  (they  declared)  of  their  having  joined  the 
Athenians  afterwards,  WHS,  to  defend  themselves  from 
Ihe  hostilities  of  the  Thebans,  against  whom  they  had 
implored  the  assistance  of  the  Lacedaemonians  to  no 
purpose:  that  if  it  was  imputed  to  them  for  a  crime, 
hioh  was  only  their  misfortune,  it  ought  not  how- 


*  Upward*  of  a  quartor  of  «  leafoe. 

•  Thucyd.  1.  iii.  p.  $03- 220.    Diod.  L  xii.  p.  109 


309 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


mrer  entirely  to  obliterate  the  remembrance  of  their 
former  »ervices.  "Cast  your  eyes,"  said  they,  "  on 
the  in  Miiiiiieiits  or"  your  ancestor*  which  you  see  here, 
to  whom  we  annually  pay  all  the  honours  which  can 
be  rendered  lo  the  urines  of  the  dead.  You  thought 
fit  to  intrust  ihrir  bodies  with  us,  as  we  were  eye-wit- 
nesses of  their  bravery:  and  yet  you  now  will  give  up 
their  aslies  to  their  murderers,  in  abandoning  in  to 
the  Thebans,  who  fought  ag-ainst  them  at  the  battle  of 
Platieas.  Will  vou  enslave  a  province  where  Greece 
recovered  its  liberty?  Will  you  destroy  the  temples 
of  those  gods,  to  whom  you  are  indebted  for  victory? 
Will  vou  abolish  the  memory  of  their  founders,  who 
contributed  so  greatly  to  your  safety?  On  this  occa- 
sion, we  may  venture  to  say,  our  interest  is  insepara- 
ble from  your  glory:  and  you  cannot  deliver  up  your 
ancient  friends  anif  benefactors  to  the  unjust  haired 
of  the  Thebans  without  overwhelming'  yourselves 
with  eternal  infamv." 

One  would  conclude,  that  these  just  remonstrances 
should  have  made  some  impression  on  the  Lacedae- 
monians; but  they  were  biassed  more  by  the  answer 
the  Thebans  made,  which  was  expressed  in  the  most 
haughty  and  bitter  terms  against  the  Plataeans;  and 
besides,  they  had  brought  their  instructions  from  La- 
cedaemon.  They  adhered  therefore  to  their  first  ques- 
tion, Whether  the  Plafteans  had  done  them  any  ser- 
vice since  the  war?  and  making  them  pass  one  alter 
another,  as  they  severally  answered  JVb,  they  were 
immediately  butchered  and  not  one  escaped.  About 
200  were  killed  in  this  manner;  and  twenty-five  Athe- 
nians, who  were  among  them,  met  with  the  same  un- 
happy fate.  Their  wives,  who  had  been  taken  pris- 
oners were  reduced  to  slavery.  The  Thebans  after- 
wards peopled  th*-ir  city  with  exiles  from  Megara 
and  Plat;eae;  but  the  year  after  they  demolished  it 
entirely.  It  was  in  this  manner  that  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians, i.i  the  hopes  of  reaping  great  advantages  from 
the  Thebans,  sacrificed  the  Plataeans  to  their  animos- 
ity, ninety-three  years  after  their  first  alliance  with 
the  Athenians. 

In  the  sixth   year  of  the  war  of 
A.  M.  3578.     Peloponnesus,  the  plague  broke  out 
Ant.  J.  C.  426.     anew  in  Athens,1  and  again   swept 
away  great  numbers. 

SECTION  IV.— THE  ATHENIANS  POSSESS  THEM- 
SELVES OF  PYLUS,  AND  ARE  AFTERWARDS  BE- 
SIEGED IN  IT.  THE  SPARTANS  ARE  SHUT  UP  IN 
THE  IJTTI.E  ISLAND  OF  CPHACTERIA.  CI.EON 
MAKES  HIMSELF  MASTER  OF  IT.  ARTAXERXES 
DIES. 

The  sixth  and  seventh  years  oflhe  War. 
I  PASS  over  several  particular  incidents  of  the  suc- 
ceeding campaigns,  which  differ  very  little  from  one 
another;  the  Lacedaemonians  making  regularly  every 
rear  incursions  into  Attica,  and  the  Athenians  into 
Peloponnesus:  I  likewise  omit  some  sieges  in  differ- 
ent place*:  that  of  Pylus,*  a  little 
A.  M..3579.  city  of  Messenia.  only  400  furlongs8 
Ant.  J.  C.  425.  from  Lacedaemon,  was  one  of  the 
most  considerable.  The  Athenians, 
headed  by  Demosthenes,  had  taken  that  city,  and 
fortified  themselves  very  strongly  in  it;  this  was  the 
seventh  year  of  the  war.  The  Lacedaemonians  left 
Attica  ii.imediately,  in  order  to  go  and  recover  that 
place,  and  accordingly  they  attacked  it  both  by  sea 
and  land.  Brasidas,  o'ne  of*  their  leaders,  signalized 
himself  here  by  the  most  extraordinary  acts  of  bra- 
very. Opposite  to  the  city  was  a  little  island  called 
Sphacteria,  from  whence  the  besieged  might  be  great- 
ly annoyed,  and  the  entrance  of  the  harbour  shut  up. 
They  therefore  threw  a  chosen  body  of  Lacedaemo- 
nians into  it;  making,  in  all,  420,  exclusive  of  the 
Helots.  A  battle  was  fought  at  sea,  in  which  the 
Athenians  were  victorious,  and  accordingly  erected  a 
trophy.  They  surrounded  the  island;  and  set  a  juard 
over  every  part  of  it,  to  prevent  any  of  the  inhabitants 


i  Thucyd.  I.  viii.  P-  232. 

•  Ibid  I.  iv   p.  253— i«0.     Diod.l.  lit.  p.  113—114. 
T wi  nty  French  leaguer 


from  going  out,  or  any  provisions  being  brou**'   a  I/I 
them. 

The  news  of  the  defeat  being  come  to  Spf'n,  th* 
magistrate  thought  the  affair  of  fhe  utmos  /mpor 
lance  and  therefore  came  himself  upon  the  '.pot,  h 
order  that  he  might  be  better  able  to  takt  proper 
measures;  when,  concluding  that  it  would  be  -mp:>--i 
r>\e  for  him  to  save  those  who  were  in  the  islnnn,  and 
that  they  at  last  must  necessarily  be  starved  out,  o* 
be  taken  by  some  other  means,  he  proposed  an  ac- 
commodation. A  suspension  of  arms  was  concluded, 
in  order  to  give  the  Lacedaemonians  time  to  send  to 
Athens;  but  upon  condition  that  in  the  mean  time 
they  should  surrender  up  all  their  galleys,  and  not 
attack  the  place  either  by  sea  or  land,  till  the  return 
of  the  ambassadors:  that  if  they  complied  <vith  these 
conditions,  the  Athenians  would  permit  thcrr.  lo  carry 
provisions  to  those  who  were  in  the  island,  at  the  rate 
of  so  much  for  the  master,*  and  half  for  the  servant; 
and  that  the  whole  should  be  done  publicly,  and  in 
sij-.-ht  of  both  armies:  that,  on  the  othtr  side,  the 
Athenians  should  be  allowed  to  keep  guard  round  the 
island,  to  prevent  any  thing  from  going  in  or  out  of 
it.  but  should  not  attack  it  in  any  manner;  that  in  case 
this  agreement  should  be  infringed  in  the  least,  the 
truce  would  be  broken;  otherwise,  that  it  should  con- 
tinue in  full  force  till  the  return  of  the  ambassadors, 
whom  the  Athenians  obliged  themselves,  by  the  arti- 
cles, to  convey  and  bring  back;  and  that  then  the  La- 
cedsemoninns  should  have  their  ships  restored,  in  the 
same  condition  in  which  they  had  been  delivered  up. 
Such  were  the  articles  of  the  treaty.  The  Lacedas- 
monians  began  to  put  it  in  execution,  by  surrendering 
about  threescore  ships;  after  which  they  sent  ambas 
sadors  to  Athens. 

Being  admitted  to  audience  before  the  people,  they 
beg-an  by  saying,  that  they  were  come  to  the  Athe- 
nians to  sue  for  that  peace  which  they  themselves 
were,  a  little  before,  in  a  condition  to  grant:  that  it 
depended  only  upon  them  to  acquire  the  glory  of  hav- 
ing restored  the  tranquillity  of  all  Greece,  as  the  La- 
ced«monians  consented  to  their  being  arbitrator*  in 
this  treaty:  that  the  danger  to  which  their  citizens 
were  exposed  in  the  island,  had  determined  them  to 
take  such  a  step  as  could  not  but  be  very  grating  to 
Lacedaemonians:  however,  that  their  affairs  were  far 
from  being  desperate,  and  therefore,  that  now  was 
the  time  to  establish,  between  the  two  republics,  a 
firm  and  solid  friendship;  because  the  affairs  of  both 
were  still  fluctuating,  and  fortune  had  not  yet  declared 
absolutely  in  favour  of  either  :  that  the  gods  fre- 
quently abandoned  those  whom  success  makes  proud, 
by  shiftins:  the  scene,  and  rendering  them  as  unfortu- 
nate as  they  before  had  been  happy:  that  they  ought 
to  consider  that  the  fate  of  arms  is  very  uncertain; 
and  that  the  means  to  establish  a  lasting  peace,  is  not 
to  triumph  over  an  enemy  by  oppressing  him,  but  to 
agree  to  a  reconciliation  on  just  and  reasonable 
terms:  for  then,  conquered  by  generosity  and  not  by 
violence,  his  future  thoughts  being  all  employed,  not 
on  revenge,  but  on  gratitude,  he  makes  it  both  his 
pleasure  and  his  duty  to  observe  his  engagements  with 
inviolable  fidelity. 

The  Athenians  had  now  a  happy  opportunity  for 
terminating  the  war,  by  a  peace  which  would  have 
been  no  less  glorious  to  them  than  advantageous  to 
all  Greece.  But  Cleon,  who  had  a  great  ascendant 
over  the  people,  prevented  so  important  a  benefit. 
They,  therefore,  answered,  by  his  advice,  that  those 
who"  were  in  the  island  should  first  surrender  nt  dis- 
cretion; and  afterwards  be  carried  to  Athens,  on  the 
condition  of  beinj  sent  back  from  it,  as  soon  as  the 
Lacedaemonians  should  have  restored  the  cities  which 
the  Athenians  had  been  forced  to  give  up  by  the  last 
treaty;  and  that  these  things  being  done,  a  firm  and 
lasting  peace  should  be  concluded.  The  Lacedemo- 
nians demanded  that  deputies  should  be  appointed, 
and  that  the  Athenians  should  engage  to  -atify  wha« 

*  For  thn  masters,  two  Attic  chojnices  of  flour,  malini 
•bout  four  pounds  and  a  half,  two  colyles,  or  half  pint§  of 
wine,  and  a  piece  of  meat ;  with  half  this  quantity  for  thi 
wr-anti. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


309 


thfy  should  conclude.  But  Cleon  exclaimed  against 
.his  proposal,  and  said,  it  was  plain  they  did  not  deal 
fairly ,  mice  they  would  not  negotiate  with  the  people, 
but  with  individuals,  whom  they  might  easily  bribe; 
•nd  that,  if  they  had  any  thing  to  offer,  they  should  do 
it  immediately.  The  Lacedaemonians,  finding  there 
was  no  possibility  for  tliem  to  treat  with  the  people 
without  advising  with  their  allies,  and  that  if  any 
IhiniC  w<  re  to  be  granted  by  them  to  their  prejudice 
they  must  be  responsible  for  it,  went  away  without 
conducing-  any  thing;  fully  persuaded  that  they  must 
not  expect  equitable  treatment  from  the  Athenians,  in 
!he  piosent  state  of  their  affairs  and  disposition  occa- 
lioned  by  their  prosperity. 

'ii  as  they  were  returned  to  Pylus,  the  su«- 
p« ii'i on  ceased  ;  but  when  the  Lacedaemonians  came 
to  demand  back  their  ships,  the  Athenians  refused  to 
£i\e  them  up,  upon  pretence  that  the  treaty  had  been 
infringed  in  some  particulars  of  little  consequence. 
The  Lacedaemonians  inveighed  strongly  against  this 
relu<;il,  as  being  a  manifest  perfidy;  and  immediately 
prepared  for  war  with  greater  vigour  and  animosity 
than  before.  A  haughty  carriage  in  success,  and  want 
of  faith  in  the  observance  of  treaties,  never  fail,  at 
last,  to  involves  people  in  great  calamities.  This  will 
appear  by  the  sequel. 

The  Athenians  continued  to  keep  a  strict  guard 
••ound  the  island,  to  prevent  any  provisions  from  be- 
ing brought  into  it,  and  hoped  that  they  should  soon 
be  able  to  starve  out  the  enemy.  But  the  Lacedae- 
monians engaged  the  whole  cou'ntry  in  their  interests 
by  the  views  of  gain,  by  affixing  a  high  price  upon 
provisions,  and  giving  such  slaves  their  freedom  as 
should  convey  any  into  it.  Provisions  were  therefore 
now  brought  (at  the  hazard  of  men's  lives')  from  all 
parts  ot  Peloponnesus.  There  were  even  divers  who 
wain  irom  the  coast  to  the  island,  opposite  to  the 
harbour,  and  drew  after  them  goat-skins  filled  with 
pounded  linseed,  and  poppy-seed  mixed  with  honey. 

Those  who  were  besieged  in  Pylus  were  reduced 
to  almost  the  like  extremities,  being  in  want  both  of 
wa!er  and  provisions.  When  advice  was  brought  to 
Athens,  tha<  their  countrymen,  so  far  from  reducing 
the  enemy  by  famine,  were  themselves  nlmost  starved  ; 
it  was  feared,  that  as  it  would  not  be  possible  for  the 
fleet  to  subsist  during  the  winter  on  a  desert  coast 
which  belonged  to  the  enemy,  nor  to  lie  at  anchor  in 
to  dangerous  a  road,  the  island  must  by  that  means  be 
less  securely  guarded,  which  would  give  the  prisoners 
an  opportunity  of  escaping.  But  the  circumstance 
they  chiefly  dreaded  was,  lest  the  Lacedemonian*  af- 
ter their  countrymen  were  once  extricated  from  their 
danger,  should  refuse  to  hearken  to  any  conditions  of 
peace;  so  that  they  now  repented  having  refused  it 
when  offered  them. 

Cleon  saw  plainly  that  these  complaints  would  all 
fall  upon  him.  He  therefore  began  by  asserting,  that 
the  report  of  the  extreme  want  of  provisions,  to  which 
the  Athenians  both  within  and  without  Pj  lus  were 
•aid  to  be  reduced,  was  absolutely  false.  "He  next 
txcl. limed,  in  presence  of  the  people,  against  the  *u- 
|viiieii>-ss  and  inactivity  of  the  leaders  who  besieged 
the  island,  pretending,  that  were  they  to  exert  the 
east  vigour  and  bravery,  they  mi^'ht  soon  make 
themselves  ma-ters  of  it;  and  that  had  he  the  com- 
mand, he  would  soon  take  it.  Upon  this  he  was  im- 
mediately appointed  to  command  the  expedition;  Ni- 
cias.  who  was  before  elected,  resigning-  voluntarily 
that  honour  to  him,  either  through  weakness,  for  he 
was  naturally  timid,  or  out  of  a  political  view,  in  or- 
der tliat  the  ill  success,  which  it  was  generally  be- 
lieved Cleon  would  me<  t  with  in  this  enterprise,  might 
lose  hini  the  favour  of  the  people.  Cleon  was  great- 
ly surprised  as  well  as  embarrassed;  for  he  did  not 
expect  that  the  Athenians  would  take  him  at  his  word, 
he  beins:  a  finer  talker  than  soldier,  and  much  more 
able  with  his  tongue  than  his  sword.  He  for  some 
time  desired  leave  to  waive  the  honour  they  offered 
him,  for  which  he  alleged  several  excuses:  but  find- 
ing that  the  more  he  declined  the  command  the  more 
they  pressed  him  to  accept  it,  he  changed  his  note; 
•urf  supplying  his  want  of  courage  with  rodomontade, 


he  declared  before  the  whs.e  Asseino.y,  ivitn  a  firm 
and  resolute  air,  that  he  would  bring,  in  twenty  d;-ys, 
those  of  the  island  prisoners,  or  lose,  his  life.  The 
whole  assembly,  on  hearing  these  words,  set  up  a 
laugh;  for  they  knew  the  man. 

Cleon,  however,  contrary  to  the  expectation  of 
every  body,  made  good  his  words.  He  and  Demos- 
thenes (the  other  chief)  landed  in  the  island  attacked 
the  enemy  with  great  vigour,  drove  them  from  post 
to  post,  and  gaining  ground  perpetually,  at  last  forced 
them  to  the  extremity  of  the  island.  The  Lacedemo- 
nians had  gained  a  fort  that  was  thought  inaccessible. 
There  they  drew  up  in  battle-array,  faced  about  to 
that  side  where  alone  they  could  be  attacked,  and  de- 
fended themselves  like  so  many  lions.  As  the  engage- 
ment had  lasted  the  greatest  p'art  of  the  day,  and  the 
soldiers  were  oppressed  with  heat  and  weariness,  and 
parched  with  thirst;  the  general  of  the  Mtssenians, 
directing  himself  to  Cleon  and  Demosthenes,  said, 
that  all  their  efforts  would  be  to  no  purpose,  units* 
they  charged  the  enemy's  rear;  and  promised,  if  they 
would  give  him  hut- some  troops  armed  with  missive 
weapons,  that  he  would  by  some  means  or  other  find 
a  passage.  Accordingly,  he  and  his  followers  climbed 
up  certain  steep  and  craggy  places  which  were  not 
guarded,  when  coming  down  unperceived  into  the 
fort,  he  appeared  on  a  sudden  at  the  backs  of  the  La- 
cedaemonians, which  entirely  damped  their  courage 
and  afterwards  completed  their  overthrow.  They  now 
made  but  a  very  feeble  resistance:  and  being  oppress- 
ed with  numbers,  attacked  on  all  sides,  and  dejected 
through  fatigue  and  dispair,  they  began  to  give  way; 
but  the  Athenians  seized  on  all  the  passes  to  cut  off 
their  retreat.  Cleon  and  Demosthenes,  finding  that 
should  the  battle  continue  not  a  man  of  them  would 
escape,  and  being  desirous  of  carrying  them  alive  to 
Athens,  they  commanded  their  soldiers  to  desist;  and 
caused  proclamation  to  be  made  by  a  herald,  for  them 
to  lay  down  their  arms  and  surrender  at  discretion. 
At  these  words,  the  greatest  part  lowered  their 
shields,  and  clapped  their  hands  in  token  of  appro- 
bation. A  kind  of  suspension  of  arms  was  agreed 
upon;  and  their  commander  desired  leave  might  be 
granted  him  to  despatch  a  messenger  to  the  camp,  to 
know  the  resolution  of  the  generals.  This  was  not 
allowed,  but  they  called  heralds  from  the  coast;  and 
after  several  messages,  a  Lacedaemonian  advanced 
forward,  and  cried  aloud  that  they  were  permitted  to 
treat  with  the  enemy,  provided  they  did  not  submit 
to  dishonourable  terms.  Upon  this  they  held  a  con- 
ference; after  which  they  surrendered  at  discretion, 
and  were  kept  till  the  next  day.  The  Athenians  then 
raising  a  trophy,  and  restoring  the  Lacedaemonian* 
their  dead,  embarked  for  their  own  country,  after  dis- 
tributing the  prisoners  among  the  several  ships,  and 
committing  the  guard  of  them  to  the  captain  of  the 
galleys. 

In 'this  battle  128  Lacedaemonians  fell,  out  of  420, 
which  was  their  number  at  first;  so  that  there  sur- 
vived not  quite  300,  120  of  whom  were  Spartans,  that 
is,  inhabitants  of  the  city  of  Sparta.  The  siege  of 
the  island  (computing  from  the  beginning  of  it,  and 
including  the  time  employed  in  the  truce)  had  lasted 
threescore  and  twelve  days.  They  all  now  left  Py- 
lus; and  Cleon's  promise,  though  so  vain  and  rash, 
was  found  literally  fulfilled.  But  the  most  surprising 
circumstance  wat,  the  capitulation  that  had  been 
made;  for  it  was  believed  that  the  Lacedaemonians, so 
far  from  surrendering  their  arms,  would  die  sword  in 
band. 

Being  come  to  Athens,  it  wa«  decreed  that  they 
should  remain  prisoners  till  a  peace  was  concluded, 
provided  the  Lacedaemonians  did  not  make  any  incur- 
sions into  their  county,  for  that  then  they  should  all 
be  put  to  death.  They  left  a  garrison  in  I'vlus.  The 
Messenian*  of  Naupactus,  who  had  formerly  possess- 
ed it,  sent  thither  the  flower  of  their  youth,  who  very 
much  infested  the  Lacedtemonians  by  their  incursions; 
•nd  as  these  Messenians  spoke  the"  language  of  the 
country,  they  prevailed  with  a  g-eat  nusiber  of  slavei 
to  join' them.  The  Lacedaemonian,  ureading  a  great- 
er evil,  sent  several  deputations  to  Atliens.  but  to  no 


310 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


purpose;  the  Athenians  being  too  ra.uch  elated  with 
their  prosperity,  and  especially  their  late  success,  to 
listen  to  any  terms. 

In  the  seventh  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,1 
Artaxerxes  sent  to  the  Lacedaemonians  an  ambassa- 
dor named  Artaphernes,  with  a  letter  written  in  the 
Assyrian  language,  in  which  he  said,  that  he  had 
received  many  embassies  frq,m  them,  but  the  purport 
of  them  all  differed  so  widely,  that  he  could  not  com- 
prehend what  it  was  they  requested:  that  in  this  un- 
certainty, he  had  thought  proper  to  send  a  Persian  to 
acquaint  them,  that  if  they  had  any  proposal  to  make, 
they  had  only  to  send  a  person  in  whom  they  could 
confide,  along  with  him,  from  whom  he  might  be  ex- 
actly informed  of  what  they  desired.  This  ambassa- 

i  Thucyd  1.  iv.  p.  265,  380. 


dor,  arriving  at  Eion  on  the  river  Strvmoti  in  Thrace, 
was  there  taken  prisoner,  about  the  close  of  this  year 
by  one  of  the  admirals  of  the  Athenian  fleet,  who  sent 
him  to  Athens.  He  was  treated  with  the  utmost  ci- 
vility and  respect;  the  Athenians  being  extremely 
desirous  of  recovering  the  favour  of  the  king  his 
master. 

The  year  following,  as  soon  as  the  season  would 
permit  the  Athenians  to  pnt  to  sea,  they  sent  the 
ambassador  back  in  one  of  their  ships  at  the  public 
expense;  and  appointed  some  of  their  citizens  to  wait 
upon  him  to  the  court  of  Persia,  in  quality  of  ambas- 
sadors. Upon  landing  at  Ephesus,  they  were  inform- 
ed that  Artaxerxes  was  dead;  whereupon  the  Athe- 
nian ambassadors,  thinking  it  not  advisable  to  proceed 
farther  after  this  news,  took  leave  of  Artapherneg,  and 
returned  to  their  own  country. 


THE  ANCIENT  HISTORY 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


BOOK  VIII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THIS  chapter  contains  the  history  of  thirteen  years 
of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  to  the  nineteenth  inclu- 
sively. 

SECTION  I. — THE  VERY  SHORT  REIGNS  OF  XERX- 
ES II.  AND  SOGDIANUS.  THEY  ARE  SUCCEEDED 
BY  DARIUS  NOTHUS.  HE  PUTS  A  STOP  TO  THE 
INSURRECTION  OF  EGYPT,  AND  THAT  OF  MEDIA. 
HE  BESTOWS  OK  CYRUS,  HIS  YOUNGEST  SON,  THE 
SUPREME  COMMAND  OF  ALL  ASIA  MINOR. 

ARTAXERXES  died  about  the  be- 
A.  M.  3579.     ginning  of  the   forty-ninth  year  of 
Ant.  J.  C.  425.     his  reign.1    Xerxes,  who  succeeded 
him,  was  the  only  son    which  the 
queen  his  wife  brought  him:  but   he  had  seventeen 
others  by  his  concubines,  among  whom  was  bogdia- 
nus    who  is  called  Secondianus  by  Ctesias.)  Ochus, 
and  Arsite*     Sogdianus,  in  concert 
A.  M.  3580.     with    Pharnacias,  one  of  Xerxes's 
Ant.  J.  C.  424.     eunuchs  came  insidiously,  one  fes- 
tival day,  to  the  new  king,  who,  af- 
ter drinking    too    immoderately,  was   retired  to  his 
chamber,  in  order  to  give  the  fumes  of  the  wine  he 
had   drunk    time  to  evaporate:  where  he   killed  him 
without  any  difficulty,  after  he  had  reigned  but  forty- 
five  days;  and  was  declared  king  in  his  stead. 

lie  was  scarce  on  the  throne/when  he  put  to  death 
Bagorazus,  the  most  faithful  of  all  his  father's  eu- 
nuchs. It  was  he  who  had  been  appointed  to  super- 
intend the  funeral  obsequies  of  Artaxerxes,  and  of 
the  queen,  Xerxes's  mother,  who  died  the  same  day 
as  her  husband.  After  having  deposited  the  two 
bodies  in  the  mausoleum  where  the  kings  of  Persia 
were  interred,  he  found,  at  his  return,  Sogdianus  on 
the  throne,  who  did  not  receive  him  tavourahly,  upon 
account  of  «ome  difference  with  him  during  the  life- 
time of  his  faii.er.  But  the  new  king  didnot  stop 

i  Ctei.  c.  ilni.—  ii.    Diod.  1.  xii.  p.  113. 


here:  not  long  after  he  took  an  opportunity  to  qtrar- 
rel  with  him,  on  some  trilling  circumstance  relating 
to  the  obsequies  of  his  fathers,  and  caused  him  to  be 
stoned. 

By  these  two  murders,  that  of  hi»  brother  Xerxes 
and  of  Bagorazns,  he  became  the  horror  of  the  armj 
and  nobility,  so  that  he  did  not  think  himself  safe  on 
a  throne,  to  which  he  had  forced  his  way  by  such 
enormous  crimes.  He  suspected  that  his  brothers 
harboured  the  like  design;  and  Ochus,  to  whom  his 
father  had  left  the  government  of  Hyrcania,  was  the 
chief  object  of  his  suspicion.  Accordingly  he  sent 
for  him,  with  the  intention  of  getting  him  murdered 
as  soon  as  he  arrived.  However,  Ochus,  who  saw 
through  hi?  •J.'s'gn,  delayed  coming  upon  various 
wetence*,  v/lnch  he  continued  till  he  advanced  at  the 
head  of  a  strong  army,  which  he  openly  declared  he 
would  employ  to  revenge  the  death  of  his  brother 
Xerxes.  This  declaration  brought  over  to  him  a 
great  number  of  the  nobility,  and  several  governor* 
of  the  provinces,  who  were  justly  dissatisfied  at  Sog- 
dianus's  cruelty  apd  ill  conduct.  They  put  the  tiara, 
which  was  the  mark  of  regal  dignity,  on  Ochu»'» 
head,  and  proclaimed  him  king.  Sogdianus,  seeir.R 
himself  abandoned  in  this  manner,  was  as  mean  and 
cowardly  in  the  slight  defence  he  made  to  maintain 
his  crown,  as  he  had  before  been  unjust  and  barbar- 
ous in  usurping  it.  Contrary  to  the  advice  of  his  best 
friends,  and  the  wisest  of  those  who  still  adhered  to 
him,  he  concluded  a  treaty  with  his  brother,  who, 
getting  him  into  his  hands,  caused  him  to  be  throws 
into  ashes,  where  he  diid  a  cruel  death.  This  was  a 
kind  of  punishment  peculiar  to  the  Persians,  and  ex- 
ercised only  on  great  criminals.2  One  of  the  largest 
towers  was  filled  to  a  certain  height  with  ashes.  Tht 
criminal  then  was  thrown  headlong  from  the  top  of 
the  tower  into  them;  after  which,  the  ashes  were,  by 
a  wheel,  turned  perpetually  round  him  till  he  wa» 


«  Val.  Max.  I.  ix.  c.  2.    2  Maccab.  c. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


311 


suffocated.  Thus  this  wicked  prince  lost  his  life  and 
umpire,  which  he  enjoyed  on])'  six  months  and  fifteen 
days. 

Oclius,  by  the  death  of  Sogdia- 

A.  M.  3581.     nus,  now  saw  himself  possessed  of 

Ant.  J.  C.  423.     the   empire.     As  soon    as   he    was 

well  settled  in   it,  he   changed  his 

oame  from  Ochus  to  that  of  Darius.     To  distinguish 

him,  historians  add  the  epithet  K«i;;t  signifying  bas- 

*ard.     He  reigned  nineteen  years. 

Arsites,  seeing  in  what  manner  Sogdianus  had  sup- 
planted Xerxes,  and  had  himself  been  dethroned  bv 
Ochus,  meditated  to  serve  the  latter  in  the  same  man- 
ner. Though  he  was  his  brother  bv  the  father's  as 
well  as  the  mother's  side,  he  openly  "revolted  against 
him,  and  was  assisted  in  it  by  Artyphius.  son  ot  Me- 

Ebyzus.  Ochus,  whom  hereafter  we  shall  always  call 
irius,  sent  Artasyras,  one  of  his  generals,  against 
Artyphius;  and  himself,  at  the  head  of  another  army, 
marched  against  Arsites.  Artyphius,  with  the  Gre- 
cian troops  in  his  pay,  twice  defeated  the  general  sent 
against  him.  But  engaging  a  third  time,  the  Greeks 
were  corrupted,  and  he  himself  was  beaten,  and  forced 
to  surrender,  upon  his  being  flattered  with  hopes  that 
a  pardon  woulj  be  granted  him.  The  king  would 
have  had  him  put  to  death,  but  was  diverted  from 
that  resolution  by  queen  Parysatis,  Darius's  sister  and 
queen.  She  was  also  the  daughter  of  Artaxerxes,  but 
not  by  the  same  mother  as  Darius.  She  was  an  in- 
triguing, artful  woman;  and  the  king  her  husband 
was  governed  by  her  on  most  occasions.  The  counsel 
•he  now  gave  was  perfidious  to  the  last  degree.  She 
advised  him  to  exercise  his  clemency  towards  Arty- 
phius, and  show  him  kind  usage,  in  order  that  nig 
brother  might  hope,  when  he  heard  of  his  treating  a 
rebellious  servant  with  so  much  generosity,  that  he 
him-fl;'  should  meet  at  least  with  as  mild  treatment, 
and  thereby  be  prompted  to  lay  down  his  arms.  She 
added,  that  when  once  he  should  have  seized  that 
prince,  he  might  dispose  of  him  and  Artyphius  as  he 
pleaded.  Darius  followed  her  counsel,  which  proved 
successful.  Arsites  being  informed  of  the  gentle  usage 
which  Artyphius  met  with,  concluded  that,  as  he  was 
the-  king's  brother,  he  should  consequently  meet  with 
still  more  indulgent  treatment,  and  with  this  hope  he 
concluded  a  treaty,  and  surrendered  himself.  Darius 
was  very  much  inclined  to  save  his  life:  but  Parv»a- 
t;s,  by  inculcating  to  him,  that  it  was  necessary  to 
punish  this  rebel  in  order  to  secure  himself,  at  last 
pr<  tailed  "ith  him  to  put  his  brother  to  death,  and 
accordingly  he  was  suffocated  in  ashes  with  Artvphi- 
us.  However,  Darius  had  a  violent  struggle  with  him- 
silt  before  he  could  consent  to  this  sacrifice,  having  a 
very  tender  affection  for  his  brother.  He  afterwards 
jiut  s  niie  other  persons  to  death,  which  executions 
Ji<l  not  procure  him  the  tranquillity  he  had  expected 
from  them;  for  bis  reign  was  afterwards  disturbed 
with  such  violent  commotions,  that  he  enjoyed  but 
little  repose. 

One  of  the  most  dangerous  was 
A.  M.  3590.  occasioned  by  the  rebellion  of  Pi- 
Ant.  J.  C.  414.  suthnes,1  who,  being  governor  of 
Lydia,  ivanted  to  throw  off  bis  alle- 
giance to  the  Persian  empire,  and  make  himself  king 
in  his  province.  What  Mattered  him  with  the  hopes 
of  succeeding  in  this  attempt  was,  his  having  a  con- 
siderable body  of  Grecian  troop*,  which  he  had  rai«ed 
and  enisled  in  his  service,  under  the  command  of  Lv- 
con  the  Athenian.  Darius  sent  Tissaphernes  against 
this  rebel,  and  gave  him,  with  a  considerable  army, 
the  commission  of  governor  of  Lydia,  of  which  he  was 
to  dispossess  Pij-uthnes.  Tissaphernes,  who  was  an 
artful  man,  and  capable  of  acting  in  all  characters, 
found  means  of  tampering  with  the  Greeks  under 
PisiUhnes;  and  by  dint  of  presents  and  promises, 
brought  over  the  troops  with  their  general  to  his  par- 
ly. I'Uuthnes,  who  was  ton  much  weakened  by  this 
Jt «(  ni  m  to  carry  on  his  designs,  surrendered,  upon 
nis  being  flattered  with  the  hopes  of  obtaining  hit 
p:«rdon;  but  the  instant  he  wa«  brought  before  the 
k:-ig.  he  wai  sentenced  to  be  suffocated  in  ashes,  and 

t  Ctei.  e   li. 


met  with  the  same  fate  as  the  rest  of  the.  rebels  who 
had  preceded  him.  But  his  death  did  not  entirely  put 
an  end  to  all  trouble;  for  Amorges  his  son,*  with  the 
remainder  of  his  army,  still  made  head  against  Ti»»a 
phernes;  and  for  (wo  years  laid  waste  the  maritiiu* 
provinces  of  Asia  Minor,  till  he  at  last  was  taken  li» 
the  Greeks  of  Peloponnesus,  in  lasus,  a  city  of  Ionia, 
and  delivered  up  by  them  to  Tissaphernes,  who  put 
him  to  death. 

Darius  was  involved  in  fresh  troubles  by  one  of  hi* 
eunuchs.3  This  kind  of  officers  had,  for  many  years, 
acquired  considerable  power  in  the  court  of  Persia; 
and  we  shall  find,  by  the  sequel  of  this  history,  that 
they  always  governed  absolutely  in  it.  We  may  form 
an  idea  ol  their  character,4  and  the  danger  to  which 
they  expose  princes,  by  the  picture  which  Diocletian, 
after  he  had  resigned  the  empire,  t.nd  reduced  him- 
self to  a  private  station  of  life,  drew  of  freedmen, 
who  had  gained  a  like  ascendant  over  the  Roman  em- 
perors. "  Four  or  five  persons,"  says  he,  "  who  are 
closely  united,  and  resolutely  determined  to  iuipote 
on  a  prince,  may  do  it  very  easily.  They  never  snow 
things  to  him  but  in  such  a  light  as  they  are  sure  will 
please.  They  conceal  whatever  would  contribute  to 
enlighten  him:  and  as  they  alone  beset  him  continual- 
ly, he  cannot  be  informed  of  any  thing  but  through 
their  channel,  and  knows  nothing  but  what  they  think 
fit  (o  suggest  to  him.  Hence  it  is,  that  he  bestows 
employments  on  those  whom  he  ought  to  exclude 
from  them;  and,  on  the  other  side,  removes  from  of- 
fices such  persons  as  are  most  worthy  of  filling  them. 
In  a  word,  the  best  prince  is  often  sold  by  these  men, 
(hough  he  be  ever  so  vigilant,  and  in  despite  of  his 
distrust  and  suspicion  of  them."  Quid  multa  .'  Lt 
Diocletianus  ipse  dicebat.  bonus,  cautus,  optimus  ven- 
ditur  imperator. 

In  this  manner  was  Darius's  court  governed.  Three 
eunuchs  had  usurped  all  power  in  it:5  an  infallible 
mark  that  a  government  is  bad,  and  the  prince  of  lit- 
tle merit.  But  one  of  those  three  eunuchs,  whose 
name  was  Artoxares,  presided  over  and  governed  the 
rest.  He  had  found  Darius's  weak  side,  by  which  he 
insinuated  himself  into  his  confidence.  He  had  stu- 
died all  his  passions,  in  order  to  indulge  them,  and 
govern  his  prince  by  their  means.  He  plunged  him 
continually  in  pleasures  and  amusements,  to  engross 
his  whole  authority  to  himself.  In  fine,  under  the 
name  and  protection  of  queen  Pary  satis,  to  whose  will 
and  pleasure  he  was  the  most  devoted  of  slaves,  he 
disposed  of  all  the  affairs  of  the  empire,  and  nothing 
was  transacted  but  by  his  orders.  Intoxicated  by  the 
supreme  authority  which  the  favour  of  his  sovereign 
gave  him,  he  resolved  to  make  himself  king,  instead 
of  being  prime  minister;  and  accordingly  formed  a 
design  to  rid  himself  of  Darius,  and  afterwards  ascend 
the  throne.  However,  his  plot  being  discovered,  he 
was  seized  and  delivered  up  to  Parysalis,  who  put 
him  to  a  most  ignominious  and  cruel  death. 

But  the  greatest  misfortune  which  happened  to  Da- 
rius during  the  whole  course  of  his  reign,  was  the  re- 
volt of  the  Egyptians.8  This  terrible  blow  fell  out 
the  same  year  with  Pisuthnes'*  rebellion.  But  Darius 
could  not  reduce  F.gypt  as  he  had  done  that  rebel. 
The  Egyptians,7  weary  of  the  Persian  government, 
flocked  from  all  parts  to  Amyrtaeus  of  Sais,  who  at 
last  was  come  out  of  the  fens,  where  he  had  defended 
himself  since  the  suppression  of  the  revolt  of  Inarus. 
The  Persians  were  driven  out,  and  Amyrtaeus  pro- 
claimed king  of  Egypt,  where  he  reigned  six  years. 

After  having  established  himself  securely  on  the 
throne,  and  entirely  expelled  the  Persians  out  of 
Egypt,  he  prepared  to  pursue  them  as  far  as  Phoeni- 
cia, and  had  already  concerted  measures  with  me 
Arabians  to  Attack  them  in  that  country.  JVews  of 
this  being  bru  ght  the  king  of  Persia,  he  recalled  the 
fleet  which  he  .  »d  promised  the  Lacedaemonians,  to 
employ  it  in  the  t.  -fence  of  bis  own  dominions. 


»  Thucyd.  1.  viii.  p.  554— 5f*>.  '  Cte*.  c.  lii. 

*  Vnpis.  in  vit.  Aurelian.  Imper. 

•  8cir   precipuum   esse   indicium   non    mcgni    prireipw 
magnos  libertos.     Pli*.  ad  Trajan. 

Eu*eb.  in  Cbron.  »  Thucyd.  L  i.  p.  72,  73 


312 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Whi.st  Darius  was  carrying  on  the  war  in  Egypt 
»nd  Arabia,  the  Medes  rebelled;  hovyever,  they  were 
neftate.d,  and  reduced  to  their  allegiance  by  force  of 
amis.  To  punish  them  for  this  revolt,  their  yoke  (till 
then  rasy  enough)  was  made  heavier:  a  fate  that  re- 
bellious subjects  always  experience,  when  the  govern- 
ment which  they  endeavoured  to  throw  oft  gains  the 
upper  hand. 

Darius'*  arms  seems  to  have  had  the  like  success 
against  the  Egyptians.1  Amyrtasus  dying  after  he 
had  reigned  six  years  (he  probably  was  killed  in  a 
battle,)  Herodotus  observes,  it  was  by  the  permission 
of  the  Persians  that  Pausiris  his  son  succeeded  him 
in  the  throne.  To  effect  this,  they  must  either  have 
been  masters  of  Egypt,  or  their  party  the  strongest 
in  that  kingdom. 

After  having  crushed   the  rebels 

A.  M.  3597.     in  Media,  and   restored  the  affairs 

Ant.  J.  C.  407.     of  Egypt  to  their  former  situation, 

Darius  gave  Cyrus,  the  youngest  of 

his  son?,  the  supreme  command  of  all    the  provinces 

of  Asia  Minor;  an    important  commission,  by  which 

he  made  all  the  provincial  governors  in  that  part  of 

the  empire  dependent  upon  him. 

I  thought  it  necessary  to  anticipate  events,  d 
draw  together  the  facts  which  related  to  the  kings  of 
Persia;  to  prevent  my  being  often  obliged  to  inter- 
rupt the  history  of  the  Greeks,  to  which  1  now  re- 
turn. 

SECTION  II. — THE  ATHENIANS  MAKE  THEM- 
SELVES MASTERS  OF  THE  ISLAND  OF  CYTHERA. 
EXPEDITIONS  OF  BRASIDAS  INTO  THRACE.  HE 
TAKES  AMI'HIPOLIS.  THUCYDIDES  THE  HISTO- 
RIAN IS  BANISHED.  A  BATTLE  IS  FOUGHT  NEAR 
DEUUM,  WHERE  THE  ATHENIANS  ARE  DEFEAT- 
ED. 

x  The  eighth  year  of  the  War. 

THE  three  or  four  campaigns  which  followed  the 
reduction  of  the  small  island  of  Sphacteria,  were  dis- 
tinguished by  very  few  considerable  events. 

The  Athenians  under  Nicias  took 

A.  M.  3580.     the  island  of  Cythera,*  situated  on 

Ant.  J.  C.  424.     the   coast   of    Lacedaemonia,    near 

cape  Malea,  and  from  thence  they 

infested  the  whole  country. 

Brasidas,  on  the  other  side,  marched  towards 
Thrace.3  The  Lacedaemonians  were  induced  by  more 
than  one  motive  to  undertake  this  expedition;  imagi- 
ning they  should  oblige  the  Athenians,  who  had  fall- 
en upon  them  in  their  country,  to  divide  their  forces. 
The  inhabitants  of  it  invited  them  thither,  and  offered 
to  pay  the  army.  In  fine,  they  were  extremely  glad 
to  embrace  that  opportunity  to  rid,  themselves  of  the 
Helots,  whom  they  expected  to  rise  in  rebellion, 
since  the  taking  of  Pylus.  They  had  already  made 
away  with  2000  of  them  in  a  most  horrid  manner. 
Upon  the  specious  pretence  of  rewarding  merit  even 
in  slaves,  but  in  reality  to  get  rid  of  a  body  of  men 
whose  courage  they  dreaded,  they  caused  proclama- 
tion to  be  made,  that  such  of  the  Helots  as  had  done 
the  greatest  service  to  the  state  in  the  last  campaign, 
should  enter  their  names  in  the  public  registers,  in 
order  to  their  being  made  free.  Accordinglv  2000 
gave  in  their  names.  They  were  carried  in  proces- 
sion through  the  temples,  with  chaplets  of  flowers  on 
their  heads,  as  if  they  were  really  to  be  set  at  liberty. 
After  this  ceremony  they  all  disappeared,  and  were 
never  heard  of  more.  We  have  here  an  instance,  in 
what  manner  a  suspicious  policy  and  power,  when 
filled  with  jealousv  and  distrust,  excite  men  to  the 
blackest  crimes,  without  scrupling  to  make  even  reli- 
gion it«elf,  and  the  authority  of  the  gods,  subservient 
to  their  dark  designs. 

They  therefore  sent  700  Helots  with  Brasidas, 
whom  they  had  appointed  to  head  this  enterprise. 
This  general  brought  over  several  cities,  either  by 
force  or  secret  understanding,  and  still  more  by  his 
wisdom  and  moderation.  The  chief  of  these  were 

>  Mr-rod   I.  iii.  c.  15. 

*  Thuoy.l.  I   iv.  p  280. 

•  Ibiil.  "p.  W>4— 31 1.    Diod.  1.  xii.  p.  117,  118. 


Acanthus  and  Stagyra,  which  were  two  colonies  from 
Andros.  He  also  marched  afterwards  towards  Am 
phipolis,*  ah  Athenian  colony  on  the  river  Stnmon. 
The  inhabitants  immediately  despatched  a  message  tc 
Thucydides5  the  Athenian  general,  who  was  thin  ic 
Thasus,  a  little  island  of  the  jEgean  sta,  half  a  day'i 
journey  from  Amphipolis.  He  instantly  set  sail  with 
seven  ships  that  were  near  him,  to  secure  the  place 
before  Brasidas  could  seize  it;  or,  at  worst,  to  get  in- 
to Eion,  which  lay  very  near  Amphipolis.  Biasidas, 
who  was  afraid  ot  Thucydides,  from  his  great  intlu 
ence  in  all  that  country,  where  he  was  possessed  of 
some  gold  mines,  made  all  the  despatch  imaginable, 
to  get  thither  before  him;  and  offered  such  advanta- 
geous conditions  to  the  besieged,  who  did  not  expect 
succours  so  soon,  that  they  surrendered.  Thui.j,  flidea 
arrived  the  same  evening  at  Eion;  and  had  he  Tailed 
to  come  that  day,  Brasidas  would  have  taken  posses- 
sion of  it  the  next  morning  by  day-break.  Although 
Thucvdides  had  made  all  imaginable  despatch,  the 
Athenians  however,  charged  him  with  being  the  cause 
of  the  taking  of  Amphipolis,  and  accordingly  banish- 
ed him. 

The  Athenians  were  greatly  afflicted  at  the  loss  of 
that  city,  as  well  because  they  drew  grtat  revenue 
from  it,  and  timber  to  build  their  ships,  as  because  it 
was  a  door  for  entering  Thrace.  They  were  afraid 
that  all  their  allies  in  that  neighbourhood  would  re^ 
volt;  especially  as  Brasiclas  discovered  great  mode- 
ration and  justice,  and  continually  gave  out  that  he 
came  with  no  other  view  than  to  free  the  country. 
He  declared  to  the  several  nations,  that  at  his  leaving 
Sparta,  he  had  taken  an  oath,  in  presence  of  the  ma- 
gistrates, to  leave  to  all  those  the  enjoyment  of  their 
liberties,  who  would  conclude  an  alliance  with  him; 
and  that  he  ought  to  be  considered  as  the  most  aban- 
doned of  men,  should  he  employ'  oaths  to  ensnare  their 
credulity.  "  For,"  in  his  opinion,  "  a  fraud  cloaked 
with  a  specious  pretence,  reflects  infinitely  greater 
dishonour  on  persons  in  high  stations,  than  open  vio- 
lence; because  the  latter  is  the  effect  of  the  power 
which  fortune  has  put  into  our  hands;  and  the  formei 
is  founded  wholly  on  perfidy,  which  is  the  pest  of  so- 
ciety. Now  I,"  said  he,  "should  do  a  great  disservice 
to  my  country,  besides  dishonouring  it  eternally,  if, 
by  procuring  it  some  slight  advantages,  I  should  ruin 
the  reputation  it  enjoys  of  being  just  and  faithful  to 
its  promises;  which  renders  it  much  more  powerful 
than  all  its  forces  united  together,  because  this  ac- 
quires it  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  other  states." 
Upon  such  noble  and  equitable  principles  as  these 
Brasidas  always  regulated  his  conduct:  believing,  that 
the  strongest  bulwark  of  a  state  is  justice,  moderation 
integrity,  and  the  firm  persuasion  which  their  neigh- 
bours and  allies  entertain,  that  they  are  incapable  of 
harbouring  a  design  to  usurp  their  dominions,  or 
deprive  them  of  their  liberty.  By  this  conduct  he 
brought  over  a  great  number  of  the  enemy's  allies. 

The  Athenians,6  under  the  command  of  Demos- 
thenes and  Hippocrates,  had  entered  Bceotia,  expect- 
ing that  several  cities  would  join  them  the  inomtnt 
they  should  appear.  The  Thebans  marched  out  to 
meet  them  near  Deliuni.  A  considerable  engagement 
ensued,  in  which  the  Athenians  were  def?ated  and  put 
to  flight.  Socrates  was  in  this  bsttle;7  and  Laches, 
who  accompanied  that  great  man  in  it,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing testimony  of  him  in  Plato;  thnt  had  the  rest 
of  the  army  behaved  as  gallantly  as  Socrates,  the 
Athenians  would  not  have  sustained  that  loss  before 
Dfclium.  He  was  borne  away  by  the  crowds  who  fled, 
and  was  on  foot:  Alcibiades,  who  was  on  horseback, 
when  he  saw  him,  rode  up  to  him,  and  did  not  stir 
from  him,  but  defended  him  with  the  utmost  bravery 
from  the  enemy  who  were  pursuing  him. 

After  the  battle,  the  victors  besieged  the  city. 
Among  other  engines  employed  by  them  to  batter  it, 
they  used  one  of  a  very  extraordinary  kind.  This  WM 


«  Thuoyd.l.  iv.  p  :«0— 324. 

»  The  same  who  wrote  the  history  of  the  Pelopnnrieiian 
war. 

«  Thuryd.l.  iv.  p.  311—31!!. 

»  Plut  "in  Lac.h.  p.  181.  In  Conviv  p.  </21.  Pint,  in  Al 
cib.  p.  195. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


313 


ft  long  piece  of  timber  cut  into  two  part*,  and  after- 
wards made  hollow  and  joined  again,  so  thai  its  shape 
resembled  very  much  that  of  a  (lute.  At  one  of  the 
ends  was  fixed  a  long  iron  tube,  to  which  a  caldron 
was  hung;  so  that  by  blowing  a  large  pair  of  bellows 
at  the  other  end  of  the  piece  of  timber,  the  wind  be- 
ing carried  from  thence  into  the  tube,  lighted  a  great 
fiie,  with  pitch  and  brimstone,  that  lay  in  the  caldron. 
This  engine  being  carried  on  carts  as  far  as  the  ram- 
part, to  that  part  where  it  was  lined  with  stakes  and 
fascines,  threw  out  so  great  a  flame,  that  the  rampart 
being  immediately  abandoned,  and  the  palisades  burn- 
ed, the  city  was  easily  taken. 

SECTION  IIF. — A  TWELVE-MONTHS'  TRUCE  IS 
AfiRKED  UPON  BETWEEN  THE  TWO  STATES. 
DEATH  OF  CI.EON  AND  liKASIDAS.  A  TREATY  OF 
PEACE  FOR  FIFTY  YEARS  CONCLUDED  liETvVEEN 
THE  ATHENIANS  AND  LACEDEMONIANS. 

JVtnM,  tenth,  and  eleventh  years  of  the  War. 

THE  losses  and  advantages  on 
A.  M.  3581.  both  sides  had  hitherto  been  pretty 
Ant.  J.  C.  423.  equal;1  and  the  two  nations  began 
to  grow  wearv  of  a  war,  which  put 
them  to  great  expense,  and  did  not  procure  them  any 
real  advantage.  A  truce  for  a  year  was  therefore  con- 
cluded between  the  Athenians  and  Lacedaemonians. 
The  former  resolved  on  it,  in  order  to  check  the  pro- 
gress of  Brasidas's  conquests;  to  secure  their  cities 
and  fortresses;  and  afterwards  to  conclude  a  general 
peace,  in  ca*c  they  judged  it  would  be  of  advantage 
to  them.  The  latter  were  induced  to  it,  in  order 
that,  by  the  sweets  of  repose,  peace  might  become  de- 
sirable to  their  enemy;  and  to  get  out  of  their  hands 
such  of  their  citizens  as  the  Athenians  had  taken  pris- 
oners in  the  i-land  of  Sphacteria;  and  which  they 
could  never  expect  to  do,  if  Brasidas  extended  his 
conquests  farther.  The  news  of  this  accommodation 
sensibly  afflicted  Brasidas,  as  it  stopped  him  in  the 
midst  of  his  career,  and  disconcerted  all  his  projects. 
He  could  not  even  prevail  with  hjmself  to  abandon 
the  city  of  Scione,  which  he  had  taken  two  days  after 
the  truce,  but  without  knowing  that  it  had  been  con- 
cluded. He  went  still  farther;  and  did  not  scruple 
to  take  Mende,  a  litlle  city  not  far  from  Scione,  that 
surrendered  to  him  as  the  former  had  done,  which  was 
a  direct  violation  of  the  treaty:  but  Brasidas  pre- 
tended he  had  other  infraction*  to  ooject  to  the  Athe- 
nians. 

It  will  naturally  be  supposed  that  the  latter  did  not 
patiently  endure  this  conduct  of  Brasidas.  Cleon,  in 
all  public  assemblies,  was  for  ever  inflaming  the 
minds  of  the  Athenians,  and  blowing  up  the  fire  of 
war.  His  great  success  in  the.  expedition  against 
Spharteria  had  infinitely  raised  his  credit  with  the 
people:*  he  now  was  grown  insupportably  proud, 
and  his  audaciousness  was  not  to  be  restrained.  He 
had  a  vehement,  impetuous,  and  furious  kind  of  elo- 
quence, which  prevailed  over  the  minds  of  his  audi- 
tors, not  so  much  by  the  strength  of  his  arguments, 
as  by  the  boldness  and  fire  of  his  style  »nd  declama- 
tion. It  was  Cleon  who  fir?tset  the  example  of  bawl- 
ing in  assemblies,  where  the  greatest  decorum  and 
moderation  had  till  (he.n  been  observed;  of  throwing 
his  robe  b*  hind  him,  to  give  him  the  more  liberty  to 
display  his  arms;  of  striking  his  thigh;  and  of  run- 
ning up  and  down  the  hustings  while  he  was  making 
his  speech.  In  a  word  he  first  introduced  among  the 
orators,  and  all  those  who  interfered  in  the  affairs  of 
State,  an  ungovernable  licentiousness,  and  a  contempt 
of  decency;  a  licentiousnf is  and  contempt,  which 
soon  introduced  terrible  irregularities  and  confusion 
in  public  affairs. 

Thus  two  men;3  each  on  his  own  side,  opposed  the 
tranquillity  cf  Greece,  and  raised,  hut  in  a  very  differ- 
ent way.  an  invincible  obstacle  to  it«  peace.  These 
were  Cleon  and  Rrasidas:  the  former,  because  the  war 
screened,  his  vices  and  malversations:  and  the  latter, 
because  it  added  new  lustre  to  hi?  rirtue.  And,  in- 
deed, it  gave  Clfon  an  opportunity  of  committing  en- 

i  Tlmcyd.  I.  iv.  p.  :H8— Xt3.    Diod.  1.  xii.p.  120 
»  Pint,  in  vit   Niciz,  p.  528.  •  Ibid. 

VOL.  1  -40 


ortnous  oppressions,  and  Brasidas  of  performing  great 
and  noble  actions.  But  their  death,  which  happened 
about  the  same  lime,  made  way  foi  a  new  accoimuo 
dation. 

The    Athenians    had    appointed 

Cleon  to  command  the  troops  which  A.  M.  3582. 

were  to  oppose  Brasidas,*  and  re-  Ant.  J.  C.  422. 
duce  those  cities  that  had  revolted 
from  their  allegiance.  They  were  solicitous  for  none 
so  much  as  Amphipolis;  and  Brasidas  threw  himself 
into  that  city,  in  order  to  defend  it,  Cleon  had  writ- 
ten to  Pcrdicras,  king  of  Macedonia,  and  to  the  king 
of  the  Odomantes,  to  furnish  him  with  as  many  troops 
as  possible;  and  with  the  utmost  expedition.  lie 
waited  for  them,  and  had  resolved  not  to  inarch  im- 
mediately towards  the  enemy:  but  finding  his  sol- 
diers, who  had  followed  him  involuntarily  and  with 
regret,  grow  weary  of  continuing  so  long  inactive, 
and  begin  to  compare  his  cowardice  and  inexperience 
with  the  ability  and  valour  of  Brasidas,  he  could  no 
longer  bear  their  contempt  and  murmurs;  and  imagi- 
ning himself  a  great  captain  by  his  capture  of  Sphac- 
teria, he  now  fancied  the  same  good  fortune  would 
attend  him  at  Amphipolis.  He  therefore  approached 
it.  merely,  as  he  said,  to  take  a  view  of  the  place,  and 
till  such  time  as  all  his  forces  should  be  come  up;  not 
that  he  thought  he  wanted  them  for  carrying  that 
city,  or  that  he  entertained  any  doubt  of  hfs  success 
(for  he  was  persuaded  that  no  one  would  dare  to  op- 
pose him,)  but  only  to  enable  him  to  invest  the  place 
on  all  sides,  and  afterwards  to  take  it  by  storm.  Ac- 
cordingly he  encamped  before  Amphipolis;  viewing 
very  leisurely  its  situation,  and  fondly  supposing  that 
it  would  be  in  his  power  to  retire  whenever  he 
pleased,  without  drawing  the  sword-  for  not  a  man 
came  out  or  appeared  on  the  walls,  and  all  the  gates 
of  the  city  were  kept  shut;  so  that  Cleon  began  to  re- 
pent his  not  having  brought  the  engines,  imagining 
that  he  wanted  only  these  to  make  himself  master  ol 
the  city.  Brasidns,  who  was  perfectly  well  acquainted 
with  Cleon's  disposition  and  character,  studiously 
affected  an  air  of  fear  and  reserve,  as  a  bait  to  his  te- 
merity, and  to  increase  the  good  opinion  he  had  of 
himself:  besides,  he  knew  that  Cleon  had  brought 
with  him  the  (lower  of  the  Athenian  forces,  and  the 
choicest  troops  of  Lemnos  and  of  Imbrus.  Accord- 
ingly Cleon,  despising  an  enemy  that  did  not  dare  to 
appear  before  him,  but  shut  himself  up  in  a  cowardly 
manner  in  the  city,  went  boldly  from  place  to  place, 
without  precaution  or  observing  any  discipline  among 
his  soldiers.  Brasidas,  whose  intention  was  to  attack 
him  on  a  sudden  before  all  his  forces  should  be  come 
up,  thought  this  the  critical  juncture.  He  had  con- 
certed proper  measures,  and  given  the  orders  neces- 
sary. Accordingly,  he  made  a  sudden  sally  on  the 
Athenians,  which  surprised  and  disconcerted  them 
exceedingly.  Immediately  the  left  wing  drew  off  from 
the  main  body  and  tied.  Brasidas  then  turned  the 
whole  force  of  his  arms  against  the  right  wing,  which 
gave  him  a  warm  reception.  Here  he  was  wounded 
and  disabled,  upon  which  his  soldiers  carried  him  off, 
nnperceived  by  the  Athenians.  As  for  Cleon,  not 
having  resolved  to  fight,  he  fled,  and  was  killed  by  a 
soldier  who  happened  to  meet  him.  The  troops  he 
commanded  defended  themselves  for  some  time,  and 
sustained  two  or  three  attacks  without  giving  ground, 
but  at  last  they  were  universally  broken  ana  routed, 
Brasidas  was  then  carried  into  the  city,  where  he  sur- 
vived his  victory  but  a  few  moments. 

The  whole  army  being  returned  from  the  pursuit, 
stripped  the  dead,  and  afterwards  set  up  a  trophy. 
After  which  all  the  allies  under  arms  solemn'/ed  the 
funeral  obsequies  of  Brasidas  in  a  public  manner;  and 
the  inhabitants  of  Amphipolis  celebrated  funeral  ho- 
nours evf  ry  year  to  his  memory,  as  to  a  hero,  with 
games  comhMs,  and  sacrifices.  They  considered  him 
as  their  founder:  and  to  secure  this  title  the  belter  to 
him,  they  demolished  all  the  monument*  of  him  who 
had  really  been  so;*  in  order  tnat  they  might  nol  ap- 
pear to  owe  th«ir  establishment  to  an  Athenian,  am) 


«  Thiieyd.  I.  iii.  p.  432—331.    Diod.  1.  xii.  p   121,  128. 
»  Agnoti  the  Athenian. 

2  B 


314 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


at  the  same  time  make  their  court  to  th«  Lacedemo- 
nians, on  whom  they  depended  wholly  for  their  secu- 
rity. The  Athenians,  alter  having  carried  on"',  with 
the  consent  of  the  victors,  their  dead,  returned  to 
Athens,  during  which  the  Lacedaemonians  settled  the 
•Ulaii-s  of  Aiuphipolis. 

A  sa\ing  is  ascribed  to  the  mother  of  Brasidas,1 
which  strongly  marks  the  Spartan  character.  A*  some 
persons  wt  re  applauding  in  her  presence  the  fine  qual- 
ities and  exalted  actions  of  her  son,  and  declaring  him 
superior  to  all  other  generals:  You  are  mistaken, 
says  she:  my  son  was  a  valiant  man,  but  Sparta  hat 
many  citizens  braver  than  he.  A  mother's  generosi- 
ty, in  thus  preferring  the  glory  of  the  state  to  that  of 
her  son,  was  admired,  and  did  not  go  unrewarded; 
for  the  Ephori  paid  her  public  honours. 

After  this  last  engagement,2  in  which  the  two  per- 
sons who  were  the  greatest  obstacles  to  peace  lost 
their  lives,  both  nations  seemed  more  inclined  to  an 
accommodation,  and  the  war  was  suspended  in  a 
manner  on  both  sides.  The  Athenians,  since  the 
loss  of  ttie  battles  of  Delium  and  Aiuphipolis,  which 
had  very  much  brought  down  their  haughtiness,  were 
undeceived  with  regard  to  the  high  opinion  they  had 
hitherto  entertained  of  their  own  strength,  that  had 
made  them  refuse  the  advantageous  oliers  of  their  en- 
emies. Besides,  they  were  apprehensive  of  the  re- 
volt of  their  allies,  who.  being  discouraged  by  their 
losses,  might  thereby  be  induced  to  abandon  them,  as 
several  had  already  done.  These  reflections  made 
them  strongly  repent  their  not  having  concluded  a 
treaty,  after  the  advantages  they  had  gained  at  Pylus. 
The  Lacedaemonians,  on  the  other  side,  no  longer 
flattered  themselves  with  the  hopes  of  being  able  to 
ruin  the  Athenians  by  laying  waste  their  country;  and 
were  besides  dejected  and  terrified  by  their  loss  in 
the  island,  the  greatest  they  had  hitherto  ever  sus- 
tained. They  also  considered  that  their  country  was 
ravaged  by  the  garrison  of  Pylus  and  Cythera;  that 
their  slaves  deserted;  that  they  had  reason  to  dread 
a  more  considerable  revolt;  and  that  as  the  truce 
they  had  concluded  with  the  inhabitants  of  Argos  was 
near  expiring,  they  had  reason  to  be  apprehensive  of 
being  abandoned  by  some  of  their  allies  of  Pelopon- 
nesus, as  in  fact  they  were.  These  several  motives, 
enforced  by  the  desire  they  had  of  recovering  their 
prisoners,  the  greatest  part  of  whom  were  the  most 
considerable  citizens  of  Sparta,  made  them  desire  a 
peace. 

Those  who  were  most  solicitous  for  having  it  con- 
cluded, and  whose  interest  it  was  chiefly  to  wish  it, 
were  the  chiefs  of  the  two  states,  viz.  Plistonax,  king 
of  Lacedaemonia,  and  Nicias,  general  of  the  Athe- 
nians. The  former  was  lately  returned  from  banish- 
ment, to  which  he  had  been  sentenced  on  account  of 
bis  being  suspected  to  have  received  a  bribe,  in  order 
to  draw  oh"  his  troops  from  the  Athenian  territories; 
and  to  this  precipitate  retreat  were  ascribed  several 
misfortunes  which  followed  after  it.  He  also  wag 
charged  with  having  corrupted  by  gifts  the  priestess 
of  Delphi,  who  had  commanded  the  Spartans,  in  the 
name  of  the  god,  to  recall  him  from  his  exile.  Plisto- 
nax was  therefore  desirous  of  peace,  in  order  to  put 
an  end  to  these  reproaches,  which,  on  account  of  the 
perpetual  calamities  01  the  war,  were  daily  revived. 
As  for  Nicias,  the  most  fortunate  general  of  his  age, 
he  was  afraid  lest  some  unhappy  accident  should  sul- 
ly his  glory;  and  he  wished  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
peace  in  ease  and  tranquillity,  and  to  ensure  the  same 
happiness  to  his  country. 

Both  states  began  by  agreeing  to  a  suspension  of 
•rniS  for  twelve  month*,*  during  which,  being  every 
day  together,  and  tasting  the  sweets  of  security  and 
repose,  and  the  pleasure  of  corresponding  with  their 
friends  and  with  foreigners,  they  grew  passionately 
desirous  of  leading  an  easy,  undisturbed  life,  remote 
•from  the  alarms  ol  war  and  the  horrors  of  blood  and 
slaughter.  They  heard  with  the  utmost  demonstra- 
tions of  joy  the  choruses  of  their  tragedies  sing, 
•May  spiders  henceforward  weave  their  cobwebs  on 


*  Diod.  1.  xii.  p.  129.  •  Thuryrl.  I.  v.  p  351—354. 

•  Thucyd.  .  v.  p.  354.    Plut.  in.  Nic.  p.  528,  5ii» 


our  lances  and  shields!"  And  they  remembered  with 
pleasure  him  who  said,  "Those  who  sleep  in  the  arms 
of  peace,  do  not  start  from  them  at  the  sound  of  the 
trumpet;  and  nothing  interrupts  their  slumbers  but 
the  peaceful  crowing  of  the  cock." 

The  whole  winter  was  spent    in  conferences  find 
interviews,  in  which  each  party  proposed  their  claims 
and  pretensions.*     At  last,  a  peace 
was  concluded  and  ratified  for  fifty  A.  M.  3583. 

years;  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  Ant.  J.  C.  421 
which  was,  th'it  they  should  reci- 
procally restore  the  prisoners  on  each  side.  This 
treaty  was  concluded  ten  years  and  some  days  from 
the  first  declaration  of  the  war.  The  Boeotians  and 
Corinthians  were  exceedingly  disgusted  at  it,  and  for 
that  reason  used  their  utmost  endeavours  to  excite 
fresh  troubles.  But  Nicias  persuaded  the  Athenians 
and  Lacedaemonians  to  give  the  last  hand  to  this 
peace,5  by  concluding  an  alliance  offensive  and  de- 
fensive, which  would  render  them  more  formidable  to 
those  who  should  desire  to  break  with  them,  and 
more  assured  with  regard  to  each  other.  The  Athe- 
nians in  consequence  of  this  treaty,  at  last  restored 
the  prisoners  they  had  taken  in  the  island  of  Sphac- 
teria. 

SECTION  IV. — ALCTBIADES  BEGINS  TO  APPEAR  IX 
PUBLIC.  HIS  CHARACTER.  HE  OPPOSES  MCIAS 
IN  EVERY  THING,  AND  BREAKS  THE  TREATY  HE 
HAD  CONCLUDED.  THE  BANISHMENT  OF  HYPER- 
BOLUS  PUTS  AN  END  TO  THE  OSTRACISM. 
Twelfth  year  of  the  War. 

At-CTBIADES  now  began  to  advance  himself  in  the 
state,6  and  appear  in  the  public  assemblies.  Socrates 
had  attached  himself  to  him  for  many  years,  ana 
adorned  his  mind  with  a  great  variety  of  the  noblest 
erudition. 

The  strict  intimary  between  Alcibiades  and  Socra- 
tes is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  circumstances  in 
his  life.  This  philosopher  observing  excellent  natural 
qualities  in  him,  which  were  greatly  heightened  by 
the  beauty  of  his  person,  bestowed  incredible  pain?  in 
rnltivatinc:  so  valuable  a  plant,  lest,  bring  neglected, 
it  should  vrither  a«  it  grew,  and  absolutely  degenerate. 
And,  indeed,  Alcibiades  was  exposed  to  numberless 
dangers:  the  nobility  of  his  birth,  his  vast  riches,  the 
authority  of  his  family,  the  influence  of  his  guardians, 
his  personal  talents,  his  exquisite  beauty,  and,  still 
more  than  these,  the  flattery  and  complaisance  of  all 
who  approached  him.  One  would  have  concluded, 
sai«  Plutarch,  that  fortune  had  surrounded  and  in- 
vested him  with  all  these  pretended  advantages,  as 
with  so  many  ramparts  and  bulwarks,  to  render  him 
inaccessible  and  invulnerable  to  all  the  darts  of  phi- 
losophy; those  salutary  dart?  which  strike  to  the  very 
heart,  and  leave  in  it  the  strongest  enticements  to 
virtue  and  solid  glory.  But  those  very  obstacles  re- 
doubled the  zenl  of  Socrates. 

Notwithstanding  the  endeavours  that  were  used  to 
divert  this  younsj  Athenian  from  an  intercourse  which 
alone  was  capable  of  securing  him  from  so  many 
snares,  he  devoted  himself  entirely  to  it.  As  he  had 
abundance  of  wit,  he  was  fully  sensible  of  Socrates's 
merit,  and  rould  not  resist  the  charms  of  hi?  s\vpet 
and  insinuating  eloquence,  which  nt  that  time  had  a 
greater  ascendant  over  him  than  the  allurements  of 
pleasure.  He  was  so  zealous  a  disciple  of  that  great 
master,  that  he  followed  him  wherever  he  went,  took 
the  utmost  delight  in  his  conversation,  was  extremely 
well  pleased  wilh  his  principles,  received  his  iii'trur- 
tion»  and  even  his  reprimands  with  wonderful  docili- 
ty, and  would  be  so  moved  with  his  discourse?,  HI 
even  to  shed  tears  and  abhor  himself;  so  weighty  was 
the  force  of  truth  in  the  mouth  of  S6crates,  and  in  so 
glaring  a  lisrht  did  he  expose  the  hideousness  and  de 
formitv  of  the  vices  to  which  Alcibiades  abandoned 
himself. 

Alcib'mde*,  in  those  moments  when  he  listened  ti 
Socrate*,  differed  so  much  from  himself,  that  he  ap 
peared  quite  another  man.  However,  his  headstrong 


«  Diod  I.  xii.  p.  122.  i  ThucyO.  1.  ».  p.  356,  350 

•  Plut.  in  Alcib.  p.  192  194. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


315 


fiery  temper,  and  his  natural  fondness  for  pleasure, 
which  was  heightened  and  inflamed  by  the  conversa- 
tion of  young  people,  soon  plunged  him  into  his  for- 
mer irregularities,  ami  tore  him,  as  it  were,  from  his 
master;  who  was  obliged  to  run  alter  him  as  alter  a 
run-away  slave.  This  vicissitude  of  flights  and  re- 
turns, ot  virtuous  resolutions  and  relapses  into  vice, 
continued  a  long  tim*;  but  still  Socrates  was  not  dis- 
heartened by  his  levity,  and  always  flattered  himself 
with  the  hope  of  bringing-  him  back  to  his  duty.  And 
hence  certainly  arose  the  strong  mixture  of  good 
and  evil  that  always  appeared  in  his  conduct;  the  in- 
structions which  his  master  had  given  him  sometimes 
prevailing;  and  at  other  times  the  impetuosity  of  his 
passions  hurrying  him,  in  a  manner  against  his  own 
Will,  into  actions  of  a  quite  opposite  nature. 

This  intimacy,  which  continued  as  long  as  they 
lived,  did  not  pass  uncensured.  But  some  persons1  of 
great  learning  pretend,  that  these  censures  and  suspi- 
cions, when  duly  examined,  quite  disappear:  and  that 
they  ought  to  be  considered  as  the  effect  of  the  malice 
of  the  enemies  of  both.  Plato,  in  one  of  his  dialogues, 
gives  us  a  conversation  between  Socrates  and  Alcibi- 
ades,  well  calculated  to  display  the  genius  and  char- 
acter of  the  latter,  who  henceforward  will  have  a  very 
great  share,  and  play  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  affairs 
of  the  republic  of  Athens.  I  shall  make  a  verv  short 
extract  from  it  in  this  place,  which  1  hope  will  not 
displtase  my  readers. 

In  this  dialogue  Socrates  is  introduced  conversing 
with  Alcibiades,8  who  at  that  time  was  under  the 
guardianship  of  Pericles.  He  wag  then  very  young, 
end  had  been  educated  like  the  rest  of  the  Athenians; 
that  is.  he  had  been  taught  polite  literature,  and  to 
play  on  instruments,  and  had  practised  wrestling  ajid 
other  bodily  exercises.  It  does  not  appear  that  Peri- 
cles had  hitherto  taken  much  pains  in  Alcibiades's 
education  (a  fault  too  common  in  the  greatest  men,) 
juice  he  had  put  him  under  the  tuition  of  Zopyrns,  a 
Thracian,  a  man  far  advanced  in  years,  and  who,  of 
all  Pericles'*  slaves,  both  from  his  turn  of  mind  and 
age,  was  the  least  qualified  to  educate  this  young 
Athenian.  And  indeed  Socrates  told  Alcibiades,  that 
iboulil  he  compare  him  with  the  youths  of  Lacedae- 
nionin,  who  displayed  a  spirit  of  valour,  a  greatness 
of  soul,  a  strong  desire  of  glory,  a  love  of  labour,  at- 
tended with  gentleness,  modesty,  temperance,  and  a 
perfect  obedience  to  the  laws  and  discipline  of  Spar- 
ta, he  would  seem  a  mere  child  to  them.  Neverthe- 
less, his  high  birth,  his  riches,  the  great  families  he 
was  related  to,  and  the  authority  of  his  guardian, — all 
these  things  had  conspired  to  make  him  exceedingly 
vain  and  haughty.  He  was  full  of  esteem  for  him- 
lelf,  and  of  contempt  for  all  others.  He  was  prepa- 
ring to  enter  upon  the  administration  of  public  affairs, 
and,  from  his  conversation,  it  might  be  presumed, 
that  he  promised  himself  no  less  than  to  eclipse  en- 
tirely the  glory  of  Pericles,  and  to  attack  the  king  of 
Persia  even  upon  his  throne.  Socrates  seeing  him 
going  to  mount  the  tribunal,  in  order  to  give  the  peo- 
ple some  advice  relating  to  the  public  aflairs,  demon- 
strates to  him,  by  various  questions,  and  by  Alcibia- 
des's  answers,  that  he  is  quite  ignorant  of  the  affairs 
about  which  he  is  going:  to  speak,  as  he  had  never 
studied  them  himself,  nor  been  informed  in  them  by 
others.  After  making  Alribiades  himself  confess  this, 
he  paints,  in  the  strongest  colours,  the  absurdity  of 
his  conduct,  and  makes  him  fully  sensible  of  it. — 
What,  says  Socrates,  would  Amestris  !ihe  mofner  of 
Artaxerxes,  who  then  reigned  in  Persia)  say,  were 
the  to  hear,  that  there  is  a  man  now  in  Athens  who 
is  meditating  war  against  her  son,  and  evens  intends 
to  dethrone  him?  She  doubtless  would  suppose  him 
to  be  some  veteran  general,  a  mnn  of  intrepid  cour- 
esrc,  of  great  wisdom,  and  consummate  experience; 
that  he  is  able  to  raise  a  mighty  army,  and  march  it 
wherever  he  pleases;  and  at  the  same  time,  that  he  ! 
has  long  before  taken  the  proper  measures  for  pulling 


so  vast  a  design  in  execution.  But  were  she  to  hear 
that  this  is  by  no  means  the  case,  and  that  the  pei.-ou 
in  question  is  not  twenty  years  old;  that  he  is  utterly 
igiiurant  of  public  aflairs;  has  not  the  lea.st  know- 
ledge of  war,  nor  any  authority  among  the  citizens, 
or  influence  over  the  allies;  would  it  be  possible  tor 
her  to  refrain  from  laughing  at  the  folly  and  extrava- 
gance of  such  an  enterprise?  This  nevertheless,  saj  a 
Socrates,  (directing  himself  to  Alcibiades,)  is  your 
picture;  and  unhappily  resembles  most  of  those  who 
thrust  themselves  into  the  public  employments.  So- 
crates,  however,  excepts  Pericles  on  this  occasion; 
his  solid  merit  and  exalted  reputation  being  acquired 
by  his  close  study,  during  a  long  course  of  years,  of 
every  thing  capable  of  forming  hi*  mind,  and"  of  qua). 
ih  ing  him  for  public  employments.  Alcibiades  could 
not  deny  that  this  was  his  case:  he  was  ashamed  of 
his  conduct,  and  blushing  to  see  himself  so  void  of 
merit,  he  asks  how  he  must  act  in  order  to  attain  it. 
Socrates  being  unwilling  to  discourage  his  pupil,  tells 
him.  that  as  he  is  so  young,  these  evils  might  be  reme- 
died, and  afterwards  continually  gave  him  the  wisest 
counsels.  He  hud  full  leisure  to  profit  by  them;  as 
upwards  of  twenty  years  passed  between  this  conver- 
sation and  his  engaging  in  public  affairs. 

Alcibiades  was  of  a  pliant  and  flexible  disposition 
that  would  take  any  impression  which  the  difference 
of  times  and  circumstances  might  require,  still  veer- 
ing either  to  good  or  evil  with  the  same  facility  and 
ardour;  and  shitting  almost  in  an  instant  from  one  ex- 
treme to  its  opposite;  so  that  the  people  applied  to 
him  what  Homer  observes  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  That 
it  produces  a  great  number  of  very  excellent  medici- 
nal drugs,  and  at  the  same  time  as  many  poisons.  It 
might  be  said  of  Alcibiades,3  that  he  was  not  one  sin- 
gle man,  but  (if  so  bold  an  expression  might  be  used)  a 
compound  of  several  men;  either  serious  or  gay;  aus- 
tere or  affable;  an  imperious  master,  or  a  grovelling 
slave;  a  friend  to  virtue  and  the  virtuous,  or  aban- 
doned to  vice  and  vicious  men;  capable  of  supporting 
the  most  painful  fatigues  and  toils,  or  insatiably  desi- 
rous of  voluptuous  delights. 

His  irregularities  and  dissolute  conduct  were  be- 
come the  talk  of  the  whole  city;4  and  Akibiades  would 
very  willingly  have  put  a  stop  to  these  reports,  but 
without  changing  his  course  of  life,  as  appears  from  a 
saying  of  his.  He  had  a  very  handsome  dog,  of  an 
uncommon  size,  which  had  cost  him  threescore  and 
ten  minae,5  or  3500  French  livres.  By  this  we  find 
that  a  fondness  for  dogs  is  of  great  antiquity.  Alci- 
biades caused  his  tail,  which  was  the  greatest  beauty 
he  had  about  him,  to  be  cut  off.  His  friends  censured 
him  very  much  on  that  account,  and  said  that  the 
whole  city  blamed  him  very  much  for  spoiling  the 
beauty  of  so  handsome  a  creature.  This  is  the  very 
thine:  I  leant,  replied  Alcibiades  with  a  smije:  1 
ic on  Id  have  the  Athenians  converse  about  what  I  have 
done  to  my  dog-  that  they  may  not  entertain  themselves 
with  sayinf  worse  things  nfme. 

Among  the  various  passions  that  were  discovered 
in  him,6  the  strongest  and  most  prevailing  was  a 
haughty  turn  of  mind,  which  would  force  all  things 
to  submit  to  it,  and  could  not  bear  a  superior  or  even 
an  equal.  Although  his  birth  and  uncommon  talents 
smoothed  the  way  to  his  attaining  the  highest  em- 
ployments in  the  republic,  there  was  nothing  however 
to  which  he  was  so  fond  of  owing  the  influence  and 
authority  he  wanted  to  gain  over  the  people,  as  to 
the  force  of  his  eloquence,  and  (he  persuasive  graces 
of  his  orations.  To  this  his  intimacy  with  Socrates 
might  have  greatly  conduced. 

Alribiade«,T  with  the  disposition 

we  have  here  described,    was    not  A.  M.  3584. 

born  for  repose,  and  had  set  every       Ant.  J.  C.  420. 
pngine  at  work  to  thwart  the  treaty 
lately  concluded  between  the  two'stales;  but  not  suc- 


rasui-r  justifies  Sex-raff*  in  nnr  of  hi*  Hiwrta- 
lions.     .Mem.  of  I/in  Academy  of  Belles  Lettres,  torn.  iv.  p. 

m 

•  Plui.in  Alcib.  I 


>  Qm-mvis  homincm  srcum  aitnlit  ad  nu*.     Jurenal. 

*  Plut.  in.  Alcib.  p  105. 

•  Alioot  ICO/,  sterlin?.    The  Attic  mina   was  worth  101 
drachmas,  and  I  he  drachma  ten-prnre,  French  innm-v. 

<  Tc     ;iXc»ixe»,   »i    rt    ;<>.97f»TO>.     Pin.  in  Alcib    pi 
1<>5,  JW. 
»  Tbucyd.  1.  v.  p.  368—378.    Plut.  in  Alcib   D.  197, 190 


316 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


eeeding  in  his  attempt,  he  endeavoured  to  prevent  its 
taking  effect.  He  was  disgusted  at  the  Lacedaemoni- 
ans, because  they  directed  themselves  only  to  Nicias, 
of  whom  the}'  had  a  very  high  opinion;  and  on  the 
contrary  seemed  to  take  no  manner  of  notice  of  him, 
though  "the  rights  of  hospitality  had  subsisted  between 
bis  ancestors  and  them. 

The  first  thing  he  did  to  infringe  the  peace  was 
this.  Having  been  informed  that  the  people  of  Argos 
only  wanted  an  opportunity  to  break  with  the  Spar- 
tans, whom  they  equally  hated  and  feared,  he  flatter- 
ed them  secretly  with  the  hopes  that  the  Athenians 
would  succonr  them,  by  suggesting  to  them  that  they 
were  ready  to  break  a  peace  which  was  no  way  ad- 
vantageous to  them. 

And  indeed  the  Lacedaemonians  were  not  very 
careful  to  observe  the  several  conditions  of  it  reli- 
giously, having  concluded  an  alliance  with  the  Boeo- 
tians, m  direct  opposition  to  the  design  and  tenor 
of  the  treaty;  and  having  surren  lered  up  the  fort  of 
Panartus  to  the  Athenians,  not  fortified,  and  in  the 
condition  it  was  in  at  the  concluding  of  the  treaty,  ns 
they  had  stipulated  to  do.  but  quite  dismantled.  Al- 
cibiades  observing  the  Athenians  to  be  extremely  ex- 
asperated at  this  breach  of  faith,  did  his  utmost  to 
increase  thcnr  disgust;  and  taking  this  opportunity  lo 
embarrass  Nicias,  he  made  him  odious  to  the  people, 
by  causing  them  to  entertain  a  suspicion  of  iiis  being 
too  strongly  attached  to  the  Lacedaemonians;  and  by 
charging  him  with  crimes  which  were  not  altogether 
."rnprobable,  though  thev  were  absolutely  false. 

This  new  attack  quite  disconcerted  Nicias;  but 
happily  for  him,  there  arrived,  at  that  very  instant, 
ambassadors  from  Lacedaemonia.  who  were  invested 
with  full  power*  to  put  an  end  to  all  the  disputes. 
Being  introduced  into  the  council,  or  senate,  they  set 
forth  their  complaints,  and  made  their  demands,  which 
every  one  of  thu  members  thought  very  just  and  rea- 
sonable. The  people  were  to  give  them  audience  the 
next  day.  Alcibiades,  who  was  afraid  they  would 
succeed  with  them,  used  his  utmost  endeavours  to 
engage  the  ambassadors  in  a  conference  with  him.  He 
repr.  tented  to  them,  that  the  council  alwavs  behaved 
with  the  utmost  moderation  and  humanity  towards 
those  who  addressed  them,  but  that  the  people  were 
haughty  and  extravagant  in  their  pretensions;  that 
should  the  ambassadors  mention  full  powers,  the  peo- 
ple would  not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  this  circum- 
stance, and  oblige  them  to  agree  to  whatever  they 
should  take  it  into  their  heads  to  ask.  He  conclude'd 
with  assuring  them,  that  he  would  assist  them  wiih 
all  his  credit,  in  order  to  get  Pylus  restored  to  them; 
to  prevent  the  alliance  with  the  people  of  Argos,  and 
to  get  that  with  them  renewed:  and  he  confirmed  all 
these  promises  with  an  oath.  The  ambassadors  were 
extremely  well  pleased  with  this  conference,  and 
greatly  admired  the  p-ofound  policy  and  vast  abilities 
of  Alcibiades,  whom  they  looked  upon  as  an  extraor- 
dinary man;  and,  indeed,  they  were  not  mistaken  in 
their  conjecture. 

On  the  morrow,  the  people  heyng  assembled,  the 
aiiih:iS'>a;lors  were  introduced.  AIcibiade«  asked  them, 
in  the  mildest  terms,  the  subject  of  their  embassy,  and 
the  purport  of  the  power*  with  which  thev  were  in- 
vested. They  immediately  answered,  that  they  were 
come  to  propose  an  accommodation,  hut  were  not  em- 
powered to  conclude  any  thing.  These  words  were 
no  sooner  spoken,  than  Alcibiades  exclaims  against 
them;  declares  them  to  be  treacherous  knavesTcalls 
upon  the  council  as  witness  to  the.  speech  they  had 
made  the  night  before;  mid  desires  the  people  not  to 
believe  or  hear  men  who  so  impudently  advanced 
falsehoods,  and  spoke  and  prevaricated  so'unaccount- 
ably,  as  to  say  one  thing  one  day,  and  the  very  re- 
verse on  the  next. 

Words  could  never  express  the  ourprise  and  con- 
fusion with  which  the  ambassadors  were  seized,  who. 
gating  at  one  another,  could  not  believe  either  their 
eyes  or  ears.  Nicia«,  who  did  not  know  the  treache- 
rous stratagem  of  Alcibiades,  could  not  conceive  the 
motive  of  this  change,  and  tortured  his  brain  lo  no 
purpose  to  find  out  the  remon  of  it.  The  people  were 
at  that  moment  going  to  send  for  the  ambassadors  of 


Argos,  in  order  to  conclude  the  league  with  tnem. 
when  a  great  earthquake  came  to  the  assistance  oi 
.Nicias,  and  broke  up  the  assembly.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  he  prevailed  so  far  in  that  which  was 
held  next  day,  as  to  have  a  stop  put  to  the  proceed 
ings,  till  such  time  as  ambassadors  should  L>e  sent  to 
IrticetiuMiion.  Nicias  was  appointee!  to  head  them,  bul 
returned  without  having  done  the  least  good.  Th« 
Athenians  then  repented  very  much  their  having  de- 
livered up,  at  hi»  persuasion,  the  prisoners  they  had 
taken  in  the  island,  and  who  were  related  to  the  great* 
est  families  in  S|>arta.  However,  though  Inn  people 
were  highly  exasperated  at  Nicias,  they  did  not  pro- 
ceed to  any  excesses  against  him,  but  only  appointed 
Alcibiades  their  general;  made  a  league  with  the  in- 
habitants of  Mantinea  and  Hli.«,  who  had  quilted  the 
party  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  in  which  the  Argi.ei 
were  included,  and  sent  troops  to  Pylus,  to  lay  waste 
Laconia.  In  this  manner  they  again  involved  them- 
selves in  the  war  which  they  were  so  lately  desirous 
of  avoiding. 

Plutarch,1  after  relating  the  intrigue  of  Alcibiades, 
adds:  "No  one  can  approve  the  methods  he  emploved 
to  succeed  in  his  design;  however,  it  WHS  a  master- 
stroke to  disunite  and  shake  almost  every  part  of  Pe- 
loponnesus in  this  manner,  and  raise  up,  in  one  day, 
so  many  enemies  against  the  Lacedaemonians."  In 
my  opinion,  this  is  too  mild  a  censure  of  so  knavish 
and  perfidious  an  action,  which  how  succes>ful  soever 
it  might  have  been,  was,  notwithstanding,  horrid  in 
itself,  and  of  a  nature  never  to  be  sufficiently  detested. 

There  was  in  Athens  a  citizen,2  named  Hyperbolus 
a  very  wicked  man,  whom  the  comic  poets  generally 
made  the  object  of  their  raillery  and  invectives.  He 
was  hardened  in  evil,  and  become  insensible  to  infa- 
my, by  renouncing  all  sentiments  of  honour,  which 
could  only  be  the  effect  of  a  soul  abandoned  entirelj 
to  vice.  Hyperbolus  was  not  agreeable  to  anv  one; 
and  yet  the  people  made  use  ol  him  to  humble  those 
in  high  stations,  and  involve  them  in  difficulties. 
Two  citixens,  Nicies  and  Alcibiades,  engrossed  at  that 
time  all  the  authority  in  Athens.  The  dissolute  life 
of  the  latter  shocked  the  Athenians,  who  besides, 
dreaded  his  audacity  and  haughtiness.  Or*  the  other 
siJe,  Nicias,  by  always  opposing,  without  the  least 
reserve,  their  unjust  desires,  and  by  obliging  them  to 
take  the  most  useful  measures,  was  become  very  odi- 
ous to  them.  It  might  be  expected,  that  as  the  peo- 
ple were  thus  alienated  from  both,  they  couid  not  fail 
to  put  the  ostracism  in  force  against  one  of  them. 
Of  the  two  parties  which  prevailed  at  that  time  in  the 
city,  one,  which  consisted  of  the  young  men  who  were 
eager  for  war,  the  other  of  the  old  men  who  were  de- 
sirous of  peace;  the  former  endeavoured  to  procure 
the  banishment  of  Nicias,  and  the  latter  of  Alcibi- 
ades. Hyperbolus.  whose  only  merit  was  his  impu- 
dence, in  hopes  of  succeeding,  whichsoever  of  them 
should  be  removed,  declared  openly  against  them, 
and  was  eternally  exasperating  the  ">eople  against 
both.  However,  the  two  factions  uniting,  he  himself 
was  banished,  and  by  that  put  an  end  to  the  ostra- 
cism, which  seemed  to  have  been  demeaned,  in  being 
employed  against  a  man  of  so  base  a  character;  for 
hitherto  there  was  a  kind  of  honour  and  dignity  an- 
nexed to  this  punishment.  Hyperbolus  was  therefore 
the  last  who  was  sentenced  bv  the  ostracism;  as  Hip* 
parchus,  a  near  relation  of  Pisistratus  the  tyrant  had 
been  the  first. 

SECTION    V. — ALCIBIADES   ENGAGES  THE  ATHE- 
NIANS  IN   THE   WAR  OF   SICILY. 

Sixteenth  and  seventeenth  years  of  the  tear. 
I  FA5»  over  several  inconsiderable  events,3  to   has 
ten  to  the  relation  of  that  of  the  greatest  importance 
the  expedition  of  the  Athenians  in- 
to Sicily,  to  which   they    were  ex-  A.  M.  3588, 
riled  by  Alcibiades espet  tally.  This       Ant.  J,  C.  416 
is  the  sixteenth  year  of   the  Pelo- 
ponneeian  war. 


i   In  Alrih.  p.  108. 

•  Plut.  in  A Icili.  p.  196,  197.     In  NIC.  p 

»  Tiiucyd.  1.  V;ii.  p.  330— 409. 


530  43U 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


317 


Ai'.ihia  les1  had  gained  a  surprising  ascendant  over 
the  minds  af  (he  people,  though  they  were  perfectly 
well  acquainted  with  his  character.  For  his  great 
qualities  were  united  with  still  greater  vices',  which 
he  did  not  take  the  least  pains  to  concenl.  He  passed 
his  life  in  such  an  excess  of  luxur\  and  voluptuous- 
ness, as  was  a  scandal  to  the  city.  Nothing  was  seen 
in  hi-  house  but  festivals,  rejoicings,  and  parties  ol 
pleasure  and  debauchery.  He  showed  very  little  re- 
gard to  the  customs  of  his  country,  and  still  less  to 
religion  and  the  gods.  All  persons  ol  sense  and  judg- 
ment, besides  the  strong  aversion  they  hail  for  his 
Irregularities,  dreaded  exceedingly  the  consequences 
of  his  audacity,  profusion,  and  utter  contempt  of  the 
laws,  winch  they  considered  as  so  many  steps  by  which 
Alciliiades  would  rise  to  tyrannical  power. 

Aristophanes,  in  one  of  his  comedies,2  shows  ad- 
mirably well  in  a  single  verse,  the  disposition  of  the 
Eeople  towards  him:  "  They  hate  Alcibiudes,"  says 
e,  "  and  yet  cannot  do  without  him."  And,  indeed, 
the  prodigious  sums  he  squandered  on  the  people;  the 
pompoui  games  and  shows  he  exhibited  to  please 
them;  the  magnificent  and  almost  incredible  presents 
which  he  made  the  city;  the  grace  and  beauty  of  his 
person;  his  eloquence,  his  bodily  strength,  joined  to 
his  courage  and  his  experience;  in  a  word,  this  as- 
semblage of  great  qualities  made  the  Athenians  wink 
at  his  fault?,  and  bear  them  patiently,  always  endea- 
vouring to  lessen  and  screen  them  under  soft  and 
favourable  names;  for  they  called  them  frolics  and 
polite  pastimes,  and  indications  of  his  humanity  and 
good  nature. 

Timon,  the  man-hater,  morose  and  savage  as  he 
was,  formed  a  better  judgment  of  this  conduct  of  Al- 
cibiade?.  Meeting  him  one  day  as  he  was  coming 
out  of  the  assembly,  vastly  pleased  at  his  having  been 
gratified  in  all  his  demands,  and  at  seeing  the  great- 
est honours  paid  him  by  the  people  in  general,  who 
were  attending  him  in  crowds  to  his  house;  so  far 
from  shunning  him  as  he  did  all  other  men,  on  the 
contrary  ran  to  meet  him,  and  stretching  out  his  hand 
to  him  in  a  friendly  way;  "Courage,  my  son,"  says 
he,  "  thou  dost  right  in  pushing  thy  fortune,  for  thy 
advancement  will  be  the  ruin  of  all  these  people." 
The  \var  of  Sicily  will  show  that  Timon  was  not  mis- 
taken. 

The  Athenians  ever  since  the  time  of  Pericles,  had 
meditated  the  conquest  of  Sicily.  However,  that 
wise  guide  had  always  endeavoured  to  check  this  am- 
bitious and  wild  project.  He  used  fiequently  to  in- 
culcate to  them,  that  by  living  in  peace,  by  directing 
their  attention  to  naval  affairs,  by  contenting  them- 
selves with  preserving  the  conquests  they  had  already 
gained,  and  bv  not  engaging  in  hazardous  enterpri- 
ses, they  would  raise  their  city  to  a  flourishing  con- 
dition, and  be  always  superior  to  their  enemies.  The 
authority  he  had  at  that  time  over  the  people,  kept 
them  from  invading  Sicily,  though  it  could  not  sur- 
mount the  desire  they  had  to  conquer  it,  and  their 
eyes  were  continually  upon  that  island.  Some  time 
after  Pericles 's  death,*  the  Leontines  being  attacked 
bv  the  Syracusan?,  had  sent  a  deputation  to  Athens, 
to  demand  aid.  They  were  originally  of  Chalcis,  an 
Athenian  colony.  The  chief  of  the  deputies  was  Gor- 
gias,  a  famous  rhetorician,  who  was  reputed  the  most 
eloquent  man  of  his  time.  His  elegant  and  florid  dic- 
tion, heightened  by  shining  figures,  which  he  first 
employed,  charmed  the  Athenians,  who  were  prodi- 
giously affected  with  the  beauties  and  graces  of  elo- 
quence Accordingly  the  alliance  was  concluded, 
and  they  sent  ships  to  Rhegium  to  the  aid  of  the  Le- 
ontmes.  The  year  following  they  sent  a  greater 
number.  Two  years  after  they  sent  a  new  fleet,  some- 
thing stronger  "than  the  former;  but  the  Sicilians  hav- 
ing put  an  end  to  all  their  divisions,  by  the  advice  of 
Hermocrates,  the  fleet  was  sent  hack;  and  the  Athe- 
nians, not  being  able  to  prevail  with  thentsehes  to 
pardnr.  thei  •  grenerala  for  not  conquering  Sicily,  sent 
two  of  then.,  Pylhodorus  and  Sophocles,  into  banish- 


i  Pint,  in  \lcib.  p.  198—200.    In  Nic-^.  531. 
•  The  Frogs.     Act   y.  tcene  4. 
t  Diod.  1.  xii.  p  99. 


ment;  and  sentenced  the  third,  Eurymedon,  to  pay  a 
heavy  fine;  their  prosperity  having  blinded  them  to 
to  prodigious  a  degree,  that  they  were  persuaded  no 
power  was  able  to  resist  them.  They  made  several 
attempts  afterwards,  and  upon  pretence  of  sending 
from  time  to  time  arms  and  soldiers  to  such  cities  as 
were  unjustly  treated  or  oppressed  by  the  Sy  racusans, 
they  by  that  nirang  were  preparing  to  iiuatlt  them 
with  a  greater  force. 

Hut  the  person  who  most  inflamed  this  ardour  was 
Alcibiades,  by  feeding  the  people  with  splendid 
hopes,  with  which  he  himself  was  for  ever  filled,  or 
rather  intoxicated.  He  WP.S  every  night,  in  his 
dreams,  taking  Carthage,  subduing  Africa,  crossing 
from  thence  into  Italy,  and  possessing  himself  of  all 
Peloponnesus;  looking  upon  Sicily  not  as  the  aim  and 
the  end  of  this  war,  but  as  the  beginning  and  the  first 
step  of  the  exploits  which  he  was  revolving  in  his 
mind.  All  the  citizens  favoured  his  views,  and,  with- 
out inquiring  seriously  into  matters,  were  enchanted 
with  the  mighty  hopes  he  gave  them.  This  expedition 
was  the  only  topic  of  all  conversations.  The  young 
men,  in  the  places  where  the  public  exercises  were 
performed,  and  the  old  men  in  their  shops  and  else- 
where, were  employed  in  nothing  but  in  drawing  the 
plan  of  Sicily;  in  discoursing  on  the  nature  and  qual- 
ity of  the  sea  with  which  it  is  surrounded  ;  on  its  good 
harbours,  and  flat  shores  towards  Africa:  for  these 
people,  infatuated  by  the  speeches  of  Alcibiadrs,  were 
(like  him)  persuaded  that  they  should  make  Sicily  on- 
ly their  place  of  arms  and  their  arsenal,  from  whence 
they  should  set  out  for  the  conquest  of  Carthage,  and 
make  themselves  masters  of  all  Africa  and  the  sea,  as 
far  as  the  pillars  of  Hercules. 

It  is  related  *  that  neither  Socrates,  nor  Meton  the 
astronomer  believed  that  this  enterprise  would  be  sue 
cessful:  the  former  being  inspired,  as  he  insinuated, 
by  his  familiar  spirit,  who  always  warned  him  of  th« 
evils  with  which  he  was  threatened:  and  the  other, 
directed  by  his  reason  and  good  sense,  which,  point- 
ing out  what  he  had  to  apprehend  in  respect  to  '.he 
future,  induced  him  to  act  the  madman  on  this  occa- 
sion; and  to  demand,  in  consideration  of  the  unhappy 
condition  to  which  he  was  reduced,  that  the  Atheni- 
ans would  not  force  away  his  son,  and  would  dispense 
with  his  carrying  arms. 

SECTION  VI.— ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SEVERAL  PEO- 
PLE WHO  INHABITED  SICILY. 

BEFORE  I  enter  on  the  relation  of  the  war  of  Sicj- 
ly,5  it  will  not  be  improper  togivea  plan  of  thecoun- 


«  Plut.  in  Alcib.  p.  199.     In  Nic.  p.  532. 

•  [This  celebrated  island  constitutes  the  southern  pnrt  of 
the  modern  kingdom  of  Naples,  and  extend*  from  I'.:"  AS. 
tu  lf>o  10.  east  longitude  of  Greenwich,  and  from  ?5«  40.  to 
38°  15.  north  latitude.  It  is  of  a  triangular  form,  termina- 
ting in  three  Capes;  namely,  Cape  Faro,  towards  Italy — 
Cnpc  Pas«oro,  towards  Greece — and  Cape  Boro,  towards  Af- 
rii-a.  The  Fnroof  Messina,  dividing  it  from  Iialy,  i«  S 
mili'<  broad.  The  northern  side  or  base  of  the  triangle, 
fronting  the  Tuscan  Sen,  i.«  215  British  mile*  Ion:  from  Cajie 
Boco  to  Cnpe  Faro.  The  S.  W.  side,  fronting  Afriru.  in 
IrO  miles  long,  fiom  Cape  Pucsaro  to  Cape  Bocu.  The 
eastern  side  of  the  triangle,  looking  towards  Greece,  is  the 
shortest,  being  only  120  mile*  in  length  from  Cn|ie  PnMmro  to 
Cnpe  Faro.  Thi;  whole  superficies  of  the  island  contain! 
JI400  geographical  square  miles,  or  12,533  Britixh  square 
mile*. 

This  island  war  once  the  grannry  of  Rome,  its  Foil  wa«  so 
fertile,  and  its  produce  so  abundant.  It  is  now  comparative- 
ly  reduced  to  a  desert,  and  completely  dependent  on  foreign 
•imply  for  its  support.  In  1811.  one  million  nf  d<>llnr«  were 
|W»id  for  imported  corn.  More  than  one-third  of  the  iKijuila- 
lion  are  in  a  itnte  of  absolute  indigence  and  mendicity,  in  a 
land  capable  uTirapportinf  thrice  the  number  of  ils  prenent 
inhabitant* — which,  in  the  dnvs  of  Timoleon  and  Hiero, 
were  estimated  nl  upwards  of  5  000,000.  after  making  every 
allowance  for  the  inaccuracy  of  IOOKB  calculations.  Two  of 
its  cilien,  Agrigenlum  and  Syiaciise,  contained  upwards  of 
800,000  inhahitiints  each,  according  to  the  testimony  of  • 
respectable  native  historian,  Diodorus  Siculus.  All  th*s 
misery  and  want  has  been  the  consequence  of  mnny  ares  of 
the  grossest  tyranny  and  misrule,  and  the  baneful  influence 
of  the  feudal  system.  The  descendants  oftne  Nornun  ba- 
rons, who  under  Roger  conquered  Sicily  from  the  Sav  jcefit 
•re  complctf  master*  of  tioth  the  people  and  the  soil ;  and 
2  II  2 


318 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


try  and  of  the  nations  who  inhabited  it:  Thucydides 
begins  in  the  same  manner. 

It  was  first  inhabited  by  the  Lestrygones  and  the 
Oyclopts,'  of  whom  we  know  nothing  but  what  we 
tre  told  bv  the  poets.  The  most  ancient,  after  these, 
were  the  bicuni,  who  called  themselves  the  original 
inhabitants  of  this  country,  though  they  are  thought 
to  have  come  into  it  from  the  neighbourhood  of  a  ri- 
ver in  Spain,  called  Sicanus  whose  name  they  gave  to 
the  island,  which  before  was  called  Trinacrta:  these 
people  were  afterwards  confined  to  the  western  part 
of  the  island.  Some  Trojans,  after  the  burning  of 
their  city,  came  and  settled  near  them,  and  built  Eryx 
and  Egesta,*  who  all  assumed  the  name  of  Klynixi; 
and  were  afterwards  joined  by  some  inhabitants  of 
Phocis,  at  their  return  from  the  siege  of  Troy.  Those 
jvho  are  properly  called  Sicilians  came  from  Italy  in 
very  great  numbers;  and  having  gained  a  considera- 
ble victory  over  the  Sicani,  conhned  them  to  a  corner 
of  their  island,  about  300  years  before  the  arrival  of 
the  Greeks;  and  in  Thucydides's  time  they  still  inha- 
bited the  middle  part  of  the  island  and  the  northern 
coast.  From  them  the  island  was  called  Sicily.  The 
Phoenicians  also  spread  themselves  along  the  coast, 
and  in  the  little  islands  which  border  upon  it,  for  the 
convenience  of  trade;  but  alter  the  Greeks  began  to 
settle  there,  they  retired  into  the  country  of  the  Ely- 
maei,  in  order  to  be  nearer  Carthage,  and  abandoned 
the  rest.  It  was  in  this  manner  the  Barbarians  first 
settled  in  Sicily. 

With  regard  to  the  Greeks,  the 
A.  M.  3294.  fi  st  of  them  who  crossed  into  Sici- 
Ant.  J.  C.  710.  ly  were  the  Chalcidians  of  Euboea, 
under  Theocles  who  founded  Nax- 
os.  The  year  afte> — which,  according  to  Dionysius 
of  Halicarnassus,  was  the  third  of  the  seventh  Olym- 
piad— Archias  th»-  Corinthian  laid  the  foundations  of 
Syracuse.  Seven  years  after,  the  Chalcidians  founded 
Leontium  and  Catana,  after  having  driven  out  the  in- 
habitants of  the  country,  who  were  Sicilians.  Other 
Greeks,  who  ci.me  from  Megara,  a  city  of  Arhaia, 
about  the  same  time  founded  Megara,  called  Hyblae, 
or  simply  Hybla,  from  Hyblon  a  Sicilian  king,  by 
whose  permission  they  had  settled  in  his  dominions. 
It  is  well  known  thrt  the  Hvblaean  honey  was  very 
famous  among  the  ancients.  A  hundred  years  after, 
the  inhabitants  of  that  city  built  Selinus.  Gela,  built 
on  a  river  of  the  same  name,  forty-five  j'ears  after  the 
founding  of  Syracuse,  founded  Agrigentum  about  108 
years  after.  Zancle,  called  afterwards  Messana  or 
Messene  bv  Anaxilas  tyrant  of  Rhegium,  who  was  a 
native  of  Messene  a  city  of  Peloponnesus,  had  seve- 
ral founders,  and  at  different  periods.  The  Zanclians 
built  the  city  of  Hiniera;  the  Syracusans  built  Acra, 
Casmene,  and  Camarina.  These  are  most  of  the  na- 
tions, whether  Greeks  or  Barbarians,  who  settled  in 
Sicily. 

SECTION  VII.— THE  PF.opr.E  OF  EGESTA  IMPLORE 

AID  OF  THE  ATHENIANS.  MCIAS  OPPOSES,  BUT 
TO  NO  PURPOSE,  THE  WAR  OF  SICFLY.  ALCIBI- 
ADES  CARRIES  THAT  POINT.  THEV  ARE  BOTH 
APPOINTED  GENERALS  WITH  LAMACHUS. 

ATHENS  was  in  the   disposition 
A.  M.  3588.     above-  related,3  when  ambassadors 
Ant.  J.  C.  416.     arrived  from  the  people  of  Egesta, 
who,  in  quality  of  their  allies,  cnme 
to  implore  their  aid  against  the  inhabitants  of  Selinus, 
who  were  assisted    by  the  Syracusans.     It  was  the 
sixteenth  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  war.     They  re- 
presented, among-  other  things,  that  should  they  be 
abandoned,  the  Syracusans,  after  seizing  their  city,  as 


the  Catholic  clergy  posted*  full  one  third  of  all  the  landed 
property  in  tlie  inland,  »u  that  the  peasantry  are  in  a  slate 
of  abnoiute  vawalaee  to  the  noble*  and  the  clergy.  It*  po- 
pulation in  1716  WB«  only  l.lit.lKi  pnr*on*.  Sicily  at  thi* 
moment  present*  a  picture  of  the  rreatett  misery,  poverty, 
inri  want,  in  the  mi<l«t  of  an  earthly  paradise,  that  n  to  be 
fcunil  in  the  civilized  world. 1 
«  Thucyd.  I.  vi.  p.  410-413. 

•  It  i*  celled  Segcuta  bv  the  Roman*. 

•  ThucvJ.   1.  »i.  p.  413—415.     Diod    L  lii.  p.    129,  130. 
flut   in  A'.-.ib.  p.  800.    lu  NIC  p  531 


they  had  done  that  of  Leontinm,  would  possess  them- 
selves of  all  Sicily,  and  not  fail  to  aid  the  Peloj.nnne- 
sians,  who  were  their  (bunders;  and,  that  they  might 
put  them  to  as  little  charge  as  possible,  thev  offtiud  to 
pay  the  troops  that  should  be  sent  to  succour  them. 
The  Atht-nians,  who  had  long  waited  for  a  favourable 
opportunity  to  declare  themselves,  sent  deputies  to 
F.gesta,  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  affairs,  and  to  see 
whether  there  was  money  enough  in  the  treasury  t* 
defray  the  ex[>enses  of  so  great  a  war.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  that  city  had  been  so  artful,  as  to  borrow  from 
the  neighbouring  nations  a  great  number  of  gold  and 
silver  vases,  worth  an  immense  sum  of  money  ;  and  of 
these  they  made  a  show  when  the  Athenians  arrived 
The  deputies  returned  with  those 
of  Egesta,  who  carried  threescore  A.  M.  3589t 

talents  in  ingots,  as  a  month's  pay  Ant.  J.  C.  415. 
for  the  sixty  galleys  which  they  de- 
manded; and  a  promise  of  larger  sums,  which,  thej 
said,  were  ready  both  in  the  public  treasury  and  in  th« 
temples.  The  people,  struck  with  these  fair  appear- 
ances, the  truth  of  which  they  did  not  give  themselves 
the  leisure  to  examine;  and  seduced  by  the  advanta- 
geous reports  which  their  deputies  made,  with  the  view 
of  pleasing  them;  immediately  granted  the  F.gestans 
their  demand,  and  appointed  Alcibiades,  .Ninas,  and 
Lamachus,  to  command  the  fleet;  with  full  power,  not 
only  to  succour  Egesta,  and  restore  the  inhabitants  of 
Leontium  to  their  city,  but  also  to  regulate  the  affairs 
of  Sicilv,  in  such  a  manner  as  might  best  suit  the  in- 
terests of  the  republic. 

IS'icias  was  appointed  one  of  the  generals  to  his 
very  great  regret;  for,  besides  other  motives  which 
made  him  dread  the  command,  he  shunned  it,  because 
Alcibiades  was  to  be  his  colleague.  But  the  Atheni- 
ans promised  themselves  greater  success  from  this 
war,  should  they  not  resign  the  whole  conduct  of  it  to 
Alcibiades,  but  temper  his  ardour  and  audacity  with 
the  coolness  and  wisdom  of  Jsicias. 

Five  days  after,*  to  hasten  the  execution  of  the  de- 
cree, and  make  the  necessary  preparations,  a  second 
assembly  was  held.  Nicias,  who  had  had  time  enough 
to  reflect  deliberately  on  the  affair  proposed,  «nd  was 
more  and  more  convinced  of  the  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers which  would  ensue  from  it,  thought  himself 
obliged  to  speak  with  some  vehemence  against  a  pro- 
ject, the  consequences  of  which  he  foresaw  mig;ht  be 
very  fatal  to  the  republic.  He  said,  "That  it  was  sur- 
prising so  important  an  affair  should  have  been  deter- 
mined almost  as  soon  as  it  was  taken  into  deliberation! 
that  without  once  inquiring  into  matters,  they  had 
given  credit  to  whatever  was  told  them  by  foreigners, 
who  were  very  lavish  of  the  most  splendid  promises  as 
costing  them  nothing;  and  whose  interest  it  was  to 
offer  mighty  things,  in  order  to  extricate  themselves 
from  their  imminent  danger.  After  all,  what  advan- 
tage," says  he,  "can  accrue  from  thence  to  the  re- 
public? Have  we  so  few  enemies  at  our  doors,  that 
we  need  go  in  search  of  others  at  a  distance  from  us? 
Will  you  act  wisely,  to  hazard  your  present  posses- 
sions, on  the  vain  hopes  of  an  uncertain  advantaee? 
to  meditate  new  conquests  before  you  have  secured 
your  ancient  ones?  to  study  nothing  but  the  aggran- 
dizing of  your  state,  and  quite  neglect  your  own  safe- 
ty? Can  you  place  any  dependence  on  a  truce,  which 
you  yourselves  know  is  very  precarious;  which  yon 
are  sensible  has  been  infringed  more  than  once;  and 
which  the  least  defeat  on  our  side  may  suddenly 
change  into  an  open  war?  You  are  not  ignorant 
how  the  Lacedaemonian*  have  always  been,  and  still 
continue,  disposed  towards  us.  They  detest  our  gov- 
ernment as  different  from  theirs;  it  is  with  grief  and 
disdain  they  see  us  possessed  of  the  empire  of  Greece; 
they  consider  ourglorv  as  their  shame  and  confusion; 
and  there  is  nothing  they  would  not  attempt,  to  hum- 
ble a  power  which  excites  their  jealousy,  and  keeps 
them  perpetually  in  fear.  These  are  our  real  ene- 
mies and  these  are  they  whom  we  ought  to  guard 
against.  Will  it  be  a  proper  time  to  make  these  re- 
flections, when  (after  having  divided  our  troops,  and 
while  our  arms  will  be  employed  elsewhere,  and  w« 


*  Thucyd.  U  vi.  p.  415—428 


PERSIANS.  AND  GRECIANS. 


31U 


.hall  be  unable  to  resist  them)  we  shall  be  attacked 
at  once  by  all  the  forces  of  Peloponnesus?  We  do 
but  just  begin  to  breathe  after  the  calamities  in  which 
for  and  the  plague  had  plunged  u»;  and  we  are  now 
going  without  the  least  necessity  to  plunge  ourselves 
into  greater  danger.  If  we  are  ambitious  of  carrying 
our  ariiis  into  distant  countries,  would  it  not  be  more 
expedient  to  march  and  reduce  the  rebels  of  Thrace. 
and  other  nations  who  are  still  wavering  and  unfixed 
in  their  allegiance,  than  to  llv  to  the  succour  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Egesta,  about  whose  welfare  we  ought 
to  be  very  indithrent?  And  will  it  suit  our  interest 
to  attempt  to  revenge  their  injuries,  at  a  time  that  we 
do  not  discover  the  least  resentment  for  those  we  our- 
lelves  receive?  Let  us  leave  the  Sicilians  to  them- 
selves, and  not  engage  in  their  quarrels,  which  it  is 
their  business  to  decide.  As  the  inhabitants  of  Eges- 
ta undertook  the  war  without  us,  let  them  extricate 
themselves  from  it  without  our  interference.  Should 
my  of  our  generals  advise  you  to  this  enterprise, 
:rom  an  ambitious  or  self-interested  view;  merely  to 
make  a  vain  parade  of  his  splendid  equipages,  or  to 
raise  money  to  support  his  extravagance;  be  not  guil- 
ty of  so  much  imprudence  as  to  sacrifice  the  interest 
of  the  republic  to  his,  or  permit  him  to  involve  it  in 
the  same  ruin  with  himself.  An  enterprise  of  so 
much  importance  ought  not  to  b-;  committed  wholly 
to  the  conduct  of  a  young  man.  Remember  it  is  pru- 
dence, not  prejudice  and  passion,  that  gives  success 
to  affairs."  Nicias  concluded  with  declaring  it  his 
opinion,  that  it  would  be  proper  to  deliberate  again  on 
the  affair,  in  order  to  prevent  the  fatal  consequences 
with  which  their  taking  rash  resolutions  might  be  at- 
tended. 

It  was  plain  he  had  Alcibiades  in  view,  and  that 
his  enormous  luxury  was  the  object  of  his  censure. 
And  indeed  he  carried  it  to  an  incredible  height;  and 
lavished  prodigious  sums  of  money  on  horses,  equi- 
pages and  furniture;  not  to  mention  the  delicacy  and 
sumptuiHisness  of  his  table.  He  disputed  the  prize 
in  the  Olympic  games  with  seven  sets  of  chariot  hor- 
ses, which  no  private  man  had  ever  done  befnre  him; 
and  he  was  crowned  more  than  once  on  that  occasion. 
Extraordinary  resources  were  necessary  for  support- 
ing such  luxury;  and  as  avarice  often  serves  as  a  re- 
source to  ambition,  there  were  some  grounds  to  be- 
lieve, that  Alcibiades  was  no  less  solicitous  for  the 
conquest  of  Sicily,  and  that  of  Carthage  (which  he 
pretended  would  immediately  follow,)  to  enrich  his 
family,  than  to  render  it  glorious.  It  is  natural  to 
•uppose  that  Alcibiades  did  not  let  this  speech  of  Ni- 
cias  go  unanswered. 

"  This,"  says  Alcibiades,  "  is  not  the  first  time  that 
merit  has  excited  jealousy,  and  glory  been  made  the 
object  of  envy.  That  very  thing  which  is  imputed  to 
me  for  a  crime,  reflects,  I  will  presume  to  say  it,  hon- 
our on  my  country,  and  ought  to  gain  me  applause. 
The  splendour  in  which  I  live;  the  great  sums  I  ex- 
pend, particularly  in  the  public  assemblies;  beside* 
their  being  just  and  lawful,  at  the  same  time  give  for- 
eigners a  greater  idea  of  the  glory  of  Athens;  and 
ihow,  that  it  is  not  in  such  want  of  money  as  our  ene- 
mies imagine.  But  this  is  not  our  present  business. 
Let  the  world  form  a  judgment  of  me  not  from  pas- 
lion  and  prejudice,  bui  from  my  actions.  Was  it  an 
inconsiderable  service  I  did  the  republic,  in  bringing 
over  (in  one  day)  to  its  alliance,  the  people  of  Elis, 
of  Mantinea.  and  of  Argos,  that  is,  the  chief  strength 
of  Peloponnesus?  Make  use,  therefore,  to  aggran- 
dize your  empire,  of  Alcibiades's  youth  and  follf  (sinc« 
his  enemies  give  it  that  name,)  as  well  as  of  the  wis 
dom  aad  experience  of  Nicias;  and  do  not  repent 
from  vain  and  idle  fears,  your  engaging  in  an  enter- 
prise publicly  resolved  upon,  which  may  redound  in- 
finitely both  to  your  glory  and  advantage.  The  cities 
of  Sicily,  weary  of  the  unjust  and  cruel  government 
of  their  princes,  and  still  more  of  the  tyrannical  au- 
thority which  Syracuse  exercises  over  them,  wait  only 
for  a  favourable  opportunity  to  declare  themselves; 
and  are  ready  to  open  their  gates  to  any  one  who  shal' 
offer  to  break  the  yoke  under  which  they  have  so  long 
groaned.  Though  the  citizens  of  F.gesta,  as  being 
your  allies,  should  not  have  a  right  to  your  protec- 


tion;  yet  the  glory  of  Athens  ought  to  engage  yon  to 
support  them.  States  aggrnndize  themselves  by  suc- 
couring the  oppressed,  and  not  by  continuing  inactive 
In  the  present  state  of  your  atlairs,  the  only  way  to 
dispirit  your  enemies,  and  show  that  you  are  not  afraid 
of  them,  will  be,  to  harass  one  nation,  to  check  the 
progress  of  another,  to  keep  them  all  employed,  and 
:arry  your  arms  into  distant  countries  Athens  was 
not  formed  for  ease;  and  it  was  not  by  inactivity  that 
your  ancestors  raised  it  to  the  height  in  which  we  now 
see  it.  For  the  rest,  what  hazards  will  you  run  by 
engaging  in  the  enterprise  in  question?  If  it  should 
be  crowned  with  success,  you  will  then  possess  your- 
selves of  all  Greece;  and  should  it  not  ansx\er  yonr 
expectations,  your  fleet  will  give  you  nn  opportunity 
of  retiring  whenever  you  please.  The  Lacedaemoni- 
ans indeed  may  make  an  incursion  into  our  country: 
but,  besides  that  it  would  not  be  in  our  power  to  pre- 
vent it,  though  we  should  not  invade  Sicilv,  we  still 
shall  preserve  the  empire  of  the  sea,  in  spite  of  them; 
a  circumstance  which  makes  our  enemies  entirely  de- 
spair of  ever  being  able  to  conquer  us.  Be  not  there- 
fore biassed  by  Nicias's  reasons.  The  only  tendency 
of  them  is  to  sow  the  seeds  of  discord  between  the  old 
and  young  men,  who  can  do  nothing  without  one 
another;  since  it  is  wisdom  and  courage,  counsel  and 
execution,  that  gives  success  to  all  enterprises:  and 
this  in  which  we  are  going  to  embark,  cannot  but  turn 
to  your  glory  and  advantage." 

The  Athenians,1  flattered  and  pleased  with  Alcibi- 
ades's  speech,  persisted  in  their  first  opinion;  Nicias, 
on  the  other  side,  did  not  depart  from  his;  but  at  the 
same  time  did  not  dare  to  oppose  Alcibiades  any  far- 
ther. Nicias  was  naturally  of  a  mild  and  timid  dispo- 
sition. He  was  not  like  Pericles,  master  of  that  lively 
and  vehement  eloquence,  which,  like  a  torrent,  bean 
down  all  things  in  its  way.  And  indeed,  the  latter, 
on  several  occasions  and  at  several  times,  had  never 
failed  to  check  the  impetuosity  of  the  populace,  who, 
even  then,  meditated  the  expedition  into  Sicilv;  be- 
cause he  was  always  inflexible,  and  never  slackened 
the  reins  of  that  authority,  and  kind  of  sovereignty 
which  he  had  acquired  over  the  minds  of  the  people; 
whereas  Nicias,*  both  by  acting  and  speaking  in  an 
easy,  gentle  manner,  so  far  from  winning  over  the 
people,  suffered  himself  to  be  forcibly  and  involunta- 
rily carried  away:  and  accordingly  he  at  last  yielded 
to  the  people,  and  accepted  the  command  in  a  war 
which  he  plainly  foresaw  would  be  attended  with  the 
most  fatal  consequences. 

Plutarch  makes  this  reflection  in  his  excellent  trea- 
tise, where,  speaking  of  the  qualities  requisite  in  a 
statesman,  he  shows  how  very  necessary  eloquence 
and  inflexible  constancy  and  perseverance  are  to 
biro. 

Nicias,  not  daring  to  oppose  Alcibiades  any  longer 
.penly,  endeavoured  to  do  it  indirectly,  by  starting  a 
great'number  of  difficulties,  drawn  especially  from  the 
great  expense  requisite  for  this  expedition.  He  de- 
clared that,  since  they  were  resolved  upon  war.  they 
ought  to  carry  it  on  in  such  a  manner  as  should  b« 
consistentwith  the  exalted  reputation  to  which  Athens 
had  attained:  that  a  fleet  was  not  sufficient  to  oppos* 
so  formidable  a  power  as  that  of  the  Syracusans  and 
their  allies:  that  they  mu«t  raise  an  army  composed 
of  good  horse  and  foot,  if  they  desired  to  act  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  so  grand  a  design:  that,  besides 
their  fleet,  which  was  to  make  them  masters  at  sea, 
they  must  have  a  great  number  of  transports,  to  carry 
provisions  perpetually  to  the  army,  which  otherwise 
could  not  possibly  subsist  in  an  enemy's  country:  thai 
they  must  carry  vast  sums  of  money  with  them,  with- 
out waiting  for  that  promised  them  by  the  citizens  of 
Egesta.  who  perhaps,  were  ready  in  words  only,  and 
very  probably  might  break  their  promise;  that  they 
ought  to  weigh  and  examine  the  disparity  there  was 
between  themselves  and  their  enemies  with  regard  to 
the  conveniences  and  wants  of  the  army;  the  Syrn- 
cusans  being  in  their  own  country,  in  the  midst  of 


•  Plot,  in  pner..  d«  get.  rep.  p.  W2. 

•  l»Si*te  i>i/5Mi  XUXI»»T«  X«y- 
911*  ri»  fij.iiii',  oil  Xd-rirxir. 


320 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


powerful  allies,  disposed  by  inclination,  as  well  as 
engaged  by  interest,  to  assist  them  with  men.  arms, 
horses  and  provisions;  whereas,  the  Athenians  would 
carry  on  tlie  war  in  a  remote  country  possessed  by 
their  enemies,  where,  in  the  winter,  news  could  not 
be  brought  them  in  less  than  four  months'  time;  a 
country,  where  all  things  would  oppose  the  Athenians, 
and  nothing  be  procured  but  by  Jorce  of  arms:  that 
it  would  retlect  the  greatest  ignominy  on  the  Athe- 
nians, should  they  be  forced  to  abandon  their  enter- 
prise, and  thereby  become  the  scorn  and  contempt  of 
tneir  enemies,  by  having  neglected  to  take  all  the  pre- 
cautions which  so  important  a  design  required:  that 
M  for  himself,  he  was  determined  not  to  go,  unless  he 
was  provided  with  all  things  necessary  for  the  expedi- 
tion, because  the  safety  of  the  whole  army  depended 
on  that  circumstance;  and  he  would  not  sutler  it  to 
depend  upon  the  caprice,  or  the  precarious  engage- 
pients  of  the  allies. 

Nirias  had  flattered  himself,1  that  this  speech  would 
cool  the  ardour  of  the  people,  whereas  it  only  inflam- 
ed it  the  more.  Immediately  the  generals  had  full 
powers  given  them  to  raise  as  many  troops,  and  fit  out 
as  many  galleys  as  they  should  judge  necessary;  and 
the  levies  were  accordingly  carried  on  in  Athens  and 
other  places  with  inexpressible  activity. 

FECTION  VllF. — THE  ATHENIANS  PREPARE  TO 
SET  SAII,.  SINISTER  OMENS.  THE  STATUES  OF 
MERCURY  ARE  MUTILATED.  ALCIBIADES  IS  AC- 
CUSED, AND  INSISTS  UPON  HIS  BEING  TRIED,  BUT 
HIS  REQUEST  IS  NOT  GRANTED.  TRIUMPHANT 
DEPARTURE  OF  THE  FLEET. 

WHEN  all  things  were  ready  for. 
A.  M.  3589.     their   departure,2   and    they    were 
Ant.  J.  C.  415.     preparing  to   sail,  there  happened 
several  bad  omens,  which  filled  the 
minds  of  the  people  with   trouble  and   disquietude. 
The  women  were  at   that  time  celebrating  the  festi- 
val of  Adonis,3  during  which  the  whole  city  was  in 
mourning,  and  full  of  images  representing  dead  per- 
sons and  funeral  processions;  and   every  part  echoed 
with  the  cries  and  groans  of  the  women  who  follow- 
ed those  statues  with  lamentations.     Whence  it  was 
feared,  that  this  gay  and  magnificent  armament,  would 
soon  lose  all  its  splendour  and  wither  away  like  a 
flower.4 

The  general  anxiety  was  increased  by  another  ac- 
cident. The  statues  of  Mercury,  which  stood  at  the 
entrance  of  private  houses  and  temples,  were  all  mu- 
tilated in  one  night,  and  particularly  in  the  face;  and 
although  a  great  reward  was  promised  to  any  person 
who  should  discover  the  authors  of  so  audacious  a 
crime,  no  one  was  delected.  The  citizens  could  not 
forbear  considering  this  uncommon  event,  not  only  as 
an  unlucky  omen,  but  as  a  contrivance  of  some  factious 
men,  who  harboured  very  ill  de-signs.  Some  young 
people  had  already  been  accused  of  committing  a 
nearly  similar  crime  in  the  midst  of  a  drunken  frolic; 
and  particularly  of  having  wantonly  mimicked  the 
mysteries  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine,  with  Alcibiades, 
who  represented  the  high-priest,  at  their  head.  It 
highly  concerns  all  those  in  exalted  stalions.SMo  be 
extremely  careful  of  every  step  they  take,  and  not  to 
give  the  least  opportunity  to  the  most  inveterate  mal- 
ice to  censure  them.  They  ought  to  call  to  mind,  says 
Plutarch,  that  the  eye*  of  all  men  are  upon  their  con- 
duct, and  that  they  are  ever  eagle-eyed  on  these  oc- 
casions; that  not  only  their  outward  actions  pass  the 
most  severe  scrutiny,  but  that  they  penetrate  to  their 
most  private  apartments,  and  there  take  the  strictest 


i  Diod.  I.  xiii.  p.  1.14. 

»  Thucyd.  I.  vi.  p.  428.     Pint,  in  Alcih.  p.  200,  201. 

*  This  sup'TMiiioiM  rife  had  extended  even  to  God'i 
people,  And  bekold  thft  sat  teamen  vteping  for  7'ammui, 
F./ok.  viii.  14.  N.  B.  The  Latin  version  of  the  Bible, 
whirh  M.  Riillin  follow*,  say*  Keeping  for  .IJonis  ;  which 
i«  the  name  a.*  Tammuz,  the  Hebrew*  calling  Adonis  by 
that  name. 

«  Tin'  historian  Bilmle«  to  the  plant*  and  flowers  that  were 
•arnrd  in  that  n;remony,  and  which  went  b»  the  name  of 
Ailninv's  garden*. 

i  I'li;1.  n.  pner..  de  rep.  p.  800. 


notice  of  their  conversation,  their  diversions,  and  their 
most  secret  transactions.  Jt  was  this  dread  of  the 
piercing  eye  of  the  people,  that  kept  Themistoolei 
and  Pericles  perpetually  on  their  guard,  anil  obliged 
them  to  refrain  from  most  of  those  pleasures  in  which 
others  indulged  themselves. 

As  for  Alcibiades,  he  did  not  know  what  it  was  to 
lay  himself  under  any  restraint*;  and  accordingly,  at 
his  character  was  so  notorious,  people  were  easiU  per 
suaded  that  he  very  probably  had  been  conctmect  in 
what  had  happened.  His  luxury,  libertinism,  and  ir 
religion,  gave  an  air  of  probability  to  this  charge ;  and 
the  accuser  was  not  afraid  of  mentioning  las  name 
This  attack  staggered  the  constancy  and  re><  'ution 
of  Alcibiades;  but  hearing  the  sold  UTS  and  snilorr  de- 
clare that  they  were  induced  to  engage  in  this  dictant 
expedition  beyond  sea,  by  no  other  motive  than  their 
affection  for  Alcibiades;  and  that,  should  the  Uast  in- 
jury be  done  him,  they  would  all  immediate  I;  Itave 
the" service;  he  took  heart,  and  appeared  at  his  trial 
on  the  day  appointed  for  that  purpose.  His  enemies, 
upon  pretence  that  it  was  necessary  for  the  Heel  to 
set  sail,  got  the  judgment  postponed.  It  w;is  to  no 
purpose  for  Alcibiades  to  insist  upon  being  tried,  in 
case  he  was  guilty,  without  waiting  for  his  absence 
in  order  to  ruin  him;  and  to  represent,  that  it  would 
be  the  most  shocking  and  barbarous  injustice  to 
oblige  him  to  embark  for  so  important  an  expedition, 
without  first  making  due  inquiry  into  the  accusations 
and  horrid  slanders  which  were  cast  upon  him,  the 
bare  thoughts  of  which  would  keep  him  in  perpetual 
fear  and  anxiety.  However,  none  of  these  remon- 
strances proved  effectual,  and  the  fleet  was  ordered 
to  set  out. 

They  accordingly  prepared  to  set  sutt,6  after  having 
appointed  Corcyra  as  the  rendezvous  for  most  of  the 
allies,  and  such  shins  as  were  to  carry  the  provisions 
and  baggage.  All  the  citizens,  as  well  M  foreigner!  in 
Athens,  flocked  by  day-break  to  the  port  of  1  iia.us. 
The  former  atlended  their  children,  relations,  fru  nds, 
or  companions,  with  H  joy  overcast  with  a  little  sor- 
row, upon  their  bidding  adieu  to  persuii*  th;it  were 
as  dear  to  them  as  life,  who  were  setting  out  on  E  far 
distant  and  very  dangerous  expedition,  from  which  it 
was  uncertain  whether  they  ever  would  return,  though 
they  flattered  themselves  with  the  hopes  that  the  en- 
terprise would  be  successful.  The  foreigners  cam* 
thither  to  feed  their  eyes  with  a  sight  which  wa» 
highly  worthy  their  curiosity ;  for  no  single  city  in  the 
world  had  ever  fitted  out  so  gallant  a  lieet.  Those 
indeed  which  had  been  sent  against  Epidaurus  and 
Potidjea,  were  as  considerable  with  regard  to  the  num- 
ber of  the  soldiers  and  ships;  but  then  they  were  no* 
equipped  with  so  much  magnificence,  neither  was 
their  voyage  so  long,  nor  their  enterprise  so  iiu  por- 
tent. Here  were  seen  a  land  and  naval  army,  equip- 
ped with  the  utmost  rare,  and  at  the  expense  of  pri- 
vate inoividuals  as  well  as  of  the  public,  with  all 
things  necessary,  on  account  of  the  length  of  the  voy- 
age, and  the  duration  of  the  war.  The  city  furnished 
100  empty  galley*,  that  is,  threescore  light  ones,  anc 
forty  to  transport  the  soldiers  heavily  armed.  Eve- 
ry mariner  received  daily  a  drachma,  or  ten-pence 
(French)  for  his  pay,  exclusively  of  what  the  captains 
of  ships  individuafly  gave  the  rowers  of  the  first 
bench.?  Add  to  this  the  pomp  and  magnificence  of 
the  equipment;  every  one  striving  to  eclipse  the  rest, 
and  each  captain  endeavouring  lo  make  hi?  ship  the 
lightest,  and  at  the  same  time  the  gayest  of  the  whole 
fleet.  1  shall  not  take  notice  of  the  choice  in  tlie  sol- 
diers and  seamen,  who  were  the  Hower  of  the  Atheni 
ans;  nor  of  their  emulation  with  regard  to  the  beauty 
and  neatness  of  their  arms  and  equipage;  any  more 
than  that  of  their  officers,  who  had  laid  out  consider- 
able sunn  purely  to  distinguish  themselves,  and  to 
give  foreigners  an  advantageous  idea  of  their  persons 
and  circumstances;  so  that  this  sight  had  the  air  of  a 
tournament,  in  which  the  utmost  magnificence  is  dis- 
played, rathtr  than  of  a  warlike  expedition.  But  the 


•  Thucyd.  p.  430—432.    Diod.  I.  xiii  p  135. 
'  They  were  called  ?fi»<T»..    Thr-r  had  lon^r  o 
the  reit,  and  consequently  more  trouble  in  rowinf. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


321 


v,ldne?s  and  greatness  of  the  design  still  exceeded 
j  expense  a/id  splendour. 

When  the  ships  were  loaded,  and  the  troops  got  on 
board,  the  trumpet  Bounded,  and  solemn  prayers  were 
offered  up  for  the  success  of  the  expedition ;  gold  and 
silver  cups  were  tilled  every  where  with  wine,  anil  the 
accustomed  libations  were  poured  out;  the  people 
who  lined  the  shore  shouting  at  the  same  time,  and 
lifting  up  their  hands  to  heaven,  to  wish  their  fellow- 
citizrns  a  -rood  voyage  and  success.  And  now,  the 
hymn  l>eing  sur.g,  and  the  ceremonies  ended,  the 
ship*  sailed  one  alter  another  out  of  the  harbour;  after 
which  they  strove  to  outsail  one  another,  till  the 
ivhole  fleet  met  at  jEgina.  From  thence  it  made  to 
Corryra,  where  the  army  of  the  allies  were  assem- 
bling with  the  rest  of  the  fleet. 

SECTION  IX. — SYRACUSE  IS  ALARMED.  THE 
ATHENIAN  FLEET  ARRIVES  IN  SICIL*. 

ADVICE  of  this  expedition  having  been  brought  to 
Syracuse  from  all  quarters,1  it  was  thought  so  impro- 
bable, that  at  first  nobody  would  believe  it.  But  as 
it  was  more  and  more  confirmed  every  rav.the  Svra- 
cusans.  bejjan  to  think  seriously  of  making  the  neces- 
sary preparations;  and  sent  deputations  to  every  part 
of  the  island,  to  ask  assistance  of  some,  and  send  suc- 
cours to  others.  They  garrisoned  all  the  castles  and 
forts  in  the  country;  reviewed  all  the  soldiers  and 
horses;  examined  the  arms  in  the  magazines,  and  set- 
tled and  prepared  all  things,  as  if  the  enemy  had 
been  in  their  country. 

In  the  mean  time  the  fleet  sailed  in  three  squadrons, 
each  under  the  command  of  its  particular  general.  It 
consisted  of  136  ships,  100  whereof  belonged  to 
Athen*.  and  the  rest  to  the  allies.  On  board  these 
ships  were  5000  heavy  armed  soldiers.  2200  of  whom 
were  Athenian  citizen*,  viz.  1500  of  those  who  had 
estPles,  and  TOO2  who  had  none,  but  were  equally 
citizens;  the  rest  consisted  of  allies.  With  regard  to 
the  li^-ht  infantry,  there  were  eighty  archers  of  Crete, 
end  400  of  other  countries;  700  Rhodian  slingers, and 
120  exiles  of  Meg-am.  There  was  but  one  company 
ot  h  >r-e,  consisting  of  thirty  troopers,  who  had  em- 
barked on  board  a  vessel  proper  for  transporting  cav- 
alry. Both  the  fleet  and  the  land  forces  were  after- 
wards increased  considerably.  Thirty  vessels  carried 
the  provisions  and  sutlers,  with  masons,  carpenters, 
and  their  several  tools:  the  whole  followed  by  100 
small  vessels  for  the  service,  exclusive  of  merc'iant 
ships,  of  which  there  were  great  numbers.  All  this 
fleet  had  sailed  together  from  Corcyra.  Having  met 
with  but  an  indifferent  reception  from  the  people  of 
Tarrntum  and  Locris,  they  sailed  with  a  favourable 
wind  for  Rhegium,  where  they  made  some  stay.  The 
Athenians  were  very  urgent  with  the  inhabitants  of 
Rhenium  to  succour  those  of  F,eontium,  who  came 
originally  from  Chalcis  as  well  as  themselves:  but 
these  answered,  that  they  were  determined  to  stand 
neuter,  and  to  undertake  nothing  but  in  concert  with 
the  re»t  of  Italy.  Here  they  debated  on  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  necessary  fo  carry  on  the  war,  and 
waited  for  the  coming  up  of  those'  ships  that  had  been 
sent  out  to  make  discoveries  of  a  proper  place  for 
landing,  and  to  inquire  whether  the  citizens  of  Fsresta 
had  got  their  money  ready.  Upon  their  return  they 
brought  advice  that  they  had  but  thirty  talents  in  the 
treasury.  This  Nirias  had  foreseen,  but  no  regard 
had  been  paid  to  his  salutary  counsels. 

He  did  not  fail.*  the  instant  this  news  was  brought, 
to  expatiate  on  l!ie  counsel  he  had  given  in  Athens; 
to  show  the  wroiij  step  they  had  taken  in  engaging 
in  this  war;  and  to  exaggerate  the  fatal  consequen- 
ces which  might  be  expected  from  it:  in  all  which  he 
«cted  very  imprudently.  It  was  extremely  judicious 
a  Nirias  to  oppose  it  in  the  heg-inmn;,  and  to  set 
,-ery  engine  at  work  to  crush  if  possible  this  ill-fated 

ojert.  Hut  as  the  expedition  was  resolved,  and  he 
liimselt"  had  accepted  of  the  command,  he  ought  not 
to  have  been  perpetually  looking  backward,  nor  to 


i  Tlmry.l.  I.  vi.  p.  432—445 

•  Tli one  wre  called  -Hrif, 

•  Tlut.  in  NIC.  p.  532. 


Died.  1.  xiii.  p  135,  136. 


VOL.  I.— 11 


hare  repeated  incessantly,  that  this  war  had  been  uu 
dertaken  in  opposition  to  all  the  maxims  of  prudence 
and  by  that  means  to  cool  the  ardour  of  his  two  col- 
leagues in  the  command,  to  dispirit  the  soldiers,  and 
blunt  that  edge  of  confidence  and  ardour,  which  as- 
sures the  success  of  great  enterprises.  He  ought,  o« 
the  contrary,  to  have  advanced  boldly  towards  tht 
enemy:  should  have  attacked  them  with  vigour,  and 
have  spread  a  universal  terror,  by  a  sudden  and  un- 
expected descent. 

But  Nicias  acted  in  a  quite  different  manner.  His 
opinion,  in  the  council  of  war,  was  that  the\  should 
sail  for  Selinus,  which  had  been  the  first  occasion  of 
this  ex|>editlon;  and  then,  if  the  citizens  of  Kgesta 
performed  their  promise,  and  gave  a  month's  pay  tj 
the  army,  to  proceed  forward;  or  otherwise,  to  oblige 
them  to  furnish  provisions  for  the  sixty  galleys  they 
had  demanded,  and  continue  in  that  road  till  they 
should  have  concluded  a  peace  with  the  citizens  of 
Selinus,  either  by  force  of  arms  or  some  other  way. 
He  said,  that  they  afterwards  should  return  to  Athens, 
after  having  thus  made  a  parade  of  their  force?,  and 
the  assistance  they  gave  their  allies  ;  unless  the> 
should  have  an  opportunity  of  making  some  attempt 
in  favour  of  the  Leontines,  or  of  bringing  over  some 
city  into  their  alliance. 

Alcibiades  answered,  that  it  would  be  inglorious 
after  sailing  out  with  so  noble  a  fleet,  to  return  with- 
out doing  any  thing;  and  that  they  should  first  en- 
deavour to  conclude  an  alliance  with  the  Greeks  and 
Barbarians,  'n  order  to  detach  them  from  the  Syra- 
cusans:  and  procure  troops  and  provisions  from  them; 
and  especially  to  send  a  deputation  to  Messina,  which 
was  as  it  were  the  key  of  Sicily,  and  it*  harbour  cn- 
pacious  enough  to  hold  all  the  fleet.  He  declared 
farther,  that  after  seeing  who  were  their  friends  and 
enemies,  and  strengthening  themselves  by  the  addi- 
tion of  a  new  reinforcement,  they  then  should  attack 
either  Selinus  or  Syracuse;  in  case  the  one  should 
refuse  to  conclude  a  peace  with  F.gesta,  and  the  other 
not  permit  the  Leontines  to  return  to  their  city. 

Lamachus  offered  a  third  opinion,  which  perhaps 
was  the  most  prudent;  that  was  to  sail  directly  for 
Syracuse,  before  its  citizens  had  time  to  recover  from 
their  surprise,  or  prepare  for  their  defence.  He  ob- 
served, that  the  sudden  arrival  of  an  arnied  force 
always  strikes  the  greatest  terror;  and  that  when  en- 
emies are  allowed  time  to  reflect  and  make  prepara- 
tions, it  also  revives  their  courage:  whereas,  when 
they  are  suddenly  attacked,  while  still  in  confusion, 
they  are  generally  overcome:  that  as  they  would  be 
masters  of  the  open  country,  they  would  not  be  in 
want  of  any  thing,  but,  on  the  contrary,  would  oblige 
the  Sicilians  to  declare  for  them:  that  at  last  thev 
should  settle  in  Megara,  which  was  quite  a  desert, 
and  a  near  neighbour  to  Syracuse,  and  there  lay  up 
their  fleet  in  safety.  However,  his  counsel  not  being 
followed,  he  agreed  to  that  of  Alcibiades:  accordingly 
they  sailed  for  Sicily,  where  Alcibiades  took  Catana 
by  surprise. 

SF.CTION  X.— ALCIRIADES  IS  RECALLED.  HI 
FI.IFS,  AND  IS  SENTENCED  TO  DIE  FOR  CONTU- 
MACY. HE  RETIRES  TO  SPARTA.  FLEXIBILITf 
OF  HIS  GENIUS  AND  DISPOSITION. 
THIS  was  the  first  and  last  exploit  performed  by 
Alcibiades  in  this  expedition,4  he  being  immediately 
recalled  by  the  Athenians,  in  order  to  be  tried  upon 
the  accusation  laid  against  him.  For,  since  the  de- 
parture of  the  fleet,  his  enemies,  who  had  no  regard 
to  the  welfare  of  their  country;  and  who.  under  the 
specious  pretence  of  religion,  which  is  often  made  a 
cloak  to  cover  the  darkest  designs,  meditated  nothing 
but  satiating  their  hatred  and  revenue:  his  enemies.  I 
say,  taking  advantage  of  his  absence,  had  proceeded 
in  the  affair  with  greater  rigour  than  ever.  All  tho«e 
ae»in*t  whom  informations  were  lodged,  were  thrown 
into  prison,  without  so  much  as  being  suffered  to  be 
heard,  and  that  too  on  the  evidence  of  the  most  profli- 
gate and  abandoned  citizens;  as  if.  says  Thucydidet, 
it  was  not  as  great  a  crime  to  punish  the  innocent,  at 


«  Thuejrd.  1.  »i.  p.  44C — 450      Plut.  in.  Alcib.  p. ' 


HISTORY  OJ<  THE 


to  suft  r  the  guilty  to  escape.  O:ie  of  the  informers 
was  proved  to  be  perjured  by  his  own  words;  having 
declared  that  he  saw  and  knew  one  of  the  accused  by 
moonlight;  whereas  it  appeared,  that  there  was  no 
moon  at  that  time.  But  notwithstanding  this  manifest 
perjurv,  the  populace  were  as  furious  as  ever.  The 
remembrance  of  the  tyranny  of  the  Pisistratidae  made 
them  apprehensive  of"  a  similar  attempt;  and,  strong- 
ly possessed  with  this  fear,  they  would  not  give  ear 
lo  any  thing. 

At'last  they  sent  out  the  Salaminian  galley,'  order- 
ing the  captain  not  to  carry  oft  Alribiades  by  force, 
for  fear  of  raising  a  tumult  in  the  army;  but  only  to 
order  him  to  return  to  Athens,  to  pacify  the  people 
by  his  presence.  Alcibiades  obeyed  the  order,  and 
went  immediately  onboard  his  galley;  but  the  instant 
be  was  arrived  at  Thurium,  and  had  got  on  shore,  he 
disappeared,  and  eluded  the  pursuit  of  those  who 
sought  after  him.  Being  asked,  whether  he  would 
not  rely  on  his  country,  with  regard  to  the  judgment 
it  miu'lit  pass  on  him:  I  would  not,  says  he,  rely  on 
my  mother,  for  fear  she  should  inadvertently  mistake 
a  blttck  bean  fur  a  white  one.3  The  galley  of  Sala- 
mis  returned  back  without  the  commander,  who  was 
ashamed  of  his  having  suffered  his  prey  to  escape  him 
In  that  manner.  Alcibiades  was  condemned  to  die 
fOr  his  contumacy.  His  whole  estate  was  confiscated, 
and  all  the  priests  and  priestesses  were  commanded 
to  curse  him.  Among  the  latter  was  one,  named 
Theano,  who  alone  had  the  courage  to  oppose  this 
decree,  saying,  That  she  had  been,  appointed  priest- 
ess,3 not  to  curse  but  to  bless.  Some  time  after,  news 
being  brought  him  that  the  Athenians  had  condemn- 
ed him  to  die,  /  shall  make  them  sensible,  said  he, 
that  I  am  alive. 

Much  about  this  time  Diagoras  the  Melian  was 
prosecuted  at  Athens.4  He  had  settled  himself  in 
that  city,  where  he  taught  atheism,  and  was  brought  to 
a  trial  for  his  poisonous  doctrine.  Diagoras  escaped 
the  punishment  which  would  have  been  indicted  on 
him,*  by  flying  from  the  city;  but  he  could  not  wipe 
off  the  ignominy  of  the  sentence  which  condemned 
him  to  death.  The  Athenians  had  so  great  an  abhor- 
rence for  the  impious  principles  inculcated  by  him, 
that  they  even  set  a  price  upon  his  head,  and  prom- 
ised a  reward  ofa  talent  to  any  man  who  should  de- 
Jver  him  up  dead  or  alive. 

About  twenty  years  before  a  similar  process  had 
been  instituted  against  Protagoras,6  for  haviag  only 
treated  the  same  question  by  way  of  problem.  He  had 
said  in  the  beginning  of  one  of  his  books:  "Whether 
the  gods  do  or  do  not  exist,  is  a  question  which  I 
know  not  whether  I  ought  to  affirm  or  deny:  for  our 
understandings  are  too  much  clouded,  and  the  life  of 
man  is  too  short,  for  the  solution  of  so  nice  and  diffi- 
cult a  point."  But  the  Athenians  could  not  bear  to 
have  a  subject  of  this  nature  made  a  doubt;  and  for 
this  reason  they  ordered  proclamation  to  be  made  by 
the  public  crier,  for  all  persons  who  had  any  copies 
of  this  book,  to  bring  them  to  the  magistrates:  alter 
which  they  were  burnt  as  infamous  and  impious 
pieces,  and  the  author  was  banished  for  ever,  from  all 
the  territories  of  the  Athenians. 

Diagoras  and  Protagoras  had  been  the  disciples  of 
Democritus,  who  first  'invented  the  philosophy  of 
atoms. 

Since  the  departure  of  Alcibiades,*  Niciastiad  pos- 
sessed the  whole  authority;  for  Lamachus  his  col- 
league, though  a  man  of  bravery  and  experience, 
possessed  little  influence,  because  of  his  extreme  po- 
Terty,  for  whi'-h  he  was  despised  by  the  soldiers.  But 
the  Athenians  were  not  always  of  this  way  of  think- 
ing; for  we  have,  seen  that  Aristide»,  poor  as  he  was, 
was  not  less  esteemed  and  respected  on  that  account: 
but  in  this  last  expedition,  the  people  in  general  had 


i  Thu  wa«  a  sacred  TP«sel,  appointed  to  fetch  criminal*. 

*  T'li'   jinljrrn  made  u*e  nf  beans,  in  giving  their  suffrages, 
and  the  block  bean  denoted  condemnation. 

«  Joreph.  contra.  App.  •  Diod.  1.  jiii.  p.  137. 

•  Diod.  Laert.  in  Prota;.  Joseph,  conlr.  App.  Cic.  I.  1.  de 
Ml.  door.  n.  •  >-. 

'  Thucvd  p.  452,  453     Pint,  in  Nic.  p.  533. 


imbibed  a  passion  for  luxury  and  magnificence;  tn, 
natural  consequence  of  which  is,  a  love  of  riches.  A» 
Nicias,  therefore,  governed  solely,  all  his  actions 
were  of  the  same  cast  with  his  disposition,  that  is, 
timid  and  dilatory:  he  suffered  every  thing  to  lan- 
guish, sometimes,  either  bv  lying  still  and  undertaking 
nothing,  sometimes  by  only  sailing  along  the  coast,  or 
losing  time  in  consulting  or  deliberating:  all  which 
soon  suppressed,  on  one  sidf,  the  ardour  and  confi- 
dence the  troops  expressed  at  first:  and  on  the  other 
the  fear  and  terror  with  which  the  enemy  had  been 
seized,  at  the  sight  of  so  formidable  an  armament 
He  besieged  Hybla;  and  though  it  uas  but  a  imaH 
city,  he  was  however  obliged  to  raise  the  siege  some 
days  after,  which  brought  him  into  the  highest  con- 
tempt. He  retired  at  last  to  Catana,  after  having 
performed  but  one  exploit,  viz.  the  ruining  of  Hyc- 
cara,  a  small  town  inhabited  by  Bferbarian*,  from 
which  place,  it  is  said  that  Lais  the  courtezan,  at  that 
time  very  youns:,  was  sold  with  the  rest  of  the  cap- 
tives, and  carried  to  Peloponnesus. 

In  the  mean  time,*  Alcibiades  having  left  Thun 
urn,  arrived  at  Argos;  and  as  he  quite  despaired  of 
ever  being  recalled  home,  he  sent  a  messenger  to  thf 
Spartans,  desiring  leave  to  reside  among  them,  unde? 
their  guard  and  protection,  fie  promised,  in  th» 
most  solemn  manner,  that  if  they  would  consider  hin 
as  their  friend,  he  would  render  greater  services  tc 
their  state,  than  he  before  had  done  injuries  to  it 
The  Spartans  received  him  with  open  arms;  and  soon 
after  his  arrival  in  their  city,  he  gained  the  love  and 
esteem  of  all  its  inhabitants.  He  charmed,  and  eve» 
enchanted  them,  by  conforming  in  all  respects  tc 
their  way  of  living. "  Such  people  as  saw  Alcibiadeg 
shave  himself  to  the  skin,  bathe  in  cold  water,  fat  of 
the  coarse,  heavy  cakes,  whrch  were  their  -.isual  food 
and  be  so  well  satisfied  with  their  black  broth,  could 
not  persuade  themselves,  that  a  man,  who  submitted 
so  cheerfully  to  this  kind  of  life,  had  ever  kept  cooks 
in  his  palace;  had  used  essences  and  perfumes:  hao 
worn  the  fine  stuffs  of  Miletus;  in  a  word,  had  hither- 
to lived  in  the  midst  of  voluptuousness  and  pmfnsion. 
But  flexibility  was  the  characteristic  that  chiefly  dis 
tinguished  Alcibiades.  Cameleon-like,  he  could  as 
sume  all  shapes  and  colours,  to  win  the  favour  ol 
those  among  whom  he  resided.  He  immediauly  as- 
sumed their  manners,  and  adapted  himself  to  their 
taste,  as  if  they  had  been  nutural  in  him;  and  though 
he  inwardly  had  an  aversion  to  them,  he  could  how- 
ever cover'  his  dis<r»st  with  an  easy,  simple,  and  un- 
constrained air.  With  some  he  had  all  tiie  graces 
and  vivacity  of  the  gayest  youth,  and  with  others  all 
the  gravity"  of  old  age.  In  Sparta,  he  was  laborious, 
frugal,  and  austere;  in  Ionia,  enjoyment,  idleness 
and  pleasure,  made  up  his  whole  life;  in  Thn.ce,  he 
was  always  on  horseback  or  carousing;  and  when  he 
resided  with  Tissaphernes,  the  satrap,  he  exce^-drd 
all  the  magnificence  of  the  Persians  in  luxury  hnd 
profusion. 

But  he  was  not  barely  satisfied  with  gaining  the  es- 
teem of  the  Lacedaemonians.  He  insinuated  himself 
so  far  into  the  affection  of  Timoea,  the  wife  of  fing 
Agis,  that  he  had  a  son  by  her,  who,  in  public,  went 
by  the  name  of  Leotychides;  though  his  mother,  ia 
private,  and  among  her  women  and  female  friend*, 
did  not  blush  to  call  him  Alcibiaoes:  so  violent  was. 
her  pas«ion  for  that  Athenian.  Agis  was  informed 
of  this  intrigue,  and  therefore  refused  to  own  Leoty- 
chides for  his  son;  for  which  reaion  he  was  after- 
wards excluded  the  throne. 

SECTION  XI.—  DESCRIPTION  OF  SYRACUSE. 
As  the  siege  of  Syracuse  is  one  of  the  most  const* 
derable  in  the  Grecian  history,  the  particular  circum- 
stances of  which  I  thought  proper  to  relate  for  that 
reason,  in  order  to  give  my  readers  an  idea  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  ancients  formed  the  siege  of  a 
place,  I  judge  it  necessary,  before  I  enter  into  that 
detail,  to  give  the  reader  a  description  and  plnn  ol 
the  city  of  Syracuse;  in  which  he  will  also  find  tha 


•  Pint.  in.  Alcib  p.  330 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


323 


different  fortification*,  both  of  the  Athenians  and  Sy- 
racusans, mentioned  in  the  siege. 

Syracuse  stood  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Sicily.1  Its 
vast  extent,  its  advantageous  situation,  the  conveni- 
ency  o!  its  double  harbour,  its  fortifications  built  with 
the  utmost  care  and  labour,  and  the  multitude  and 
wealth  of  its  inhabitants,  made  it  one  of  the  greatest, 
the  most  beautiful,  and  most  powerful  among  the 
Grecian  cities.  We  are  told,'  its  air  was  so  pure 
•nd  serene,  that  there  was  no  duy  in  1'ie  year,  how 
eloudy  soever  it  might  be,  in  which  the  tun  did  not 
display  its  beams. 

It  was  built  by  Archias  the  C<i- 
A  .  M.  3295.     rinthian.*  a  year  after  Naxos  ar.:J 
Ant.  J.  C.  709.     Megara  had  been  foanded  on  the 
same  coast. 

\Vhen  the  Athenians  besieged  the  city,  it  was  di- 
»ided  into  three  parts,  viz.  the  Island,  Achradina,  tmd 
Tyclie.  Thucydides  mentions  only  thr.«e  three  divi- 
sions. Two  more,  viz.  Neapolis  and  Epipolte,  were 
afterwards  added. 

The  1st. AND,  situated  to  the  south,  was  called  Nije-ot 
(Nasos,)  si-tnifying,  in  Greek,  an  Island,  but  pro- 
nounced according  to  the  Doric  dialect;  and  Ortygia. 
It  was  joined  to  the  continent  by  a  bridge.  It  was 
in  tliis  island  that  the  Svracus  .ns  afterwards  built  the 
citadel  am!  the  palace  for  their  kings.*  This  quarter 
of  the  city  was  of  very  great  importance,  because  it 
might  render  those  who  possessed  it  masters  of  the 
two  ports  which  surrounded  it.  It  was  for  this  reason 
that  the  Romans,  when  they  took  Syracuse,  would 
not  suffer  any  Syracusans  to  inhabit  tfie  Island. 

There  was  in  this  Island  a  very  famous  fountain,* 
callc. 1  Arethusa.  The  ancients,  or  rather  the  poets, 
from  reasons  which  have  not  the  least  shadow  of  pro- 
bability, supposed  that  the  Alpheus,  a  river  of  Elis 
in  \'>  l(i|ioiincsu«,  rolled  its  waters  either  through  or 
under  the  waves  of  the  sea,  without  ever  mixing  with 
them,  as  far  as  the  fountain  of  Arethusa.  It  was  tliis 
firti:m  which  gave  occasion  to  the  following  lines  of 
Virgil: 

Ejtremum  hunc,  Arethusa.  mihi  concede  laborer*.— 
Sic  tibi.rum  flur'iis  xuhlrrUScre  Sicamw, 
Doris  ainura  suum  nun  intcrmigccat  undam. 

yirg.  Eclog.  JO. 

Thy  sacred  succour.  Arethusa  bring, 
Tn  crown  my  labour :  'tis  ihe  last  F  sing. 
Si  may  thy  silver  si  roams  lit'iiratb  the  tide, 
Uiimii'd  with  briny  seas  securely  glide. 

DryJe*. 

ACHRADINA,  situated  entirely  on  the  sea-side,  to- 
warU  the  east,  was  the  most  spacious,  the  most  beau- 
tiful, and  b<  st  fortified  quarter  of  the  city. 

TVCHK,  so  called  from  the  temple'  of  Fortune 
(T-z.1  )  which  embellished  that  part  of  the  citv,  ex- 
tended along  Achradina  westward  from  the  north  to- 
wards the  south,  and  was  very  well  inhabited.  It 
ha:l  a  famous  gate,  called  Hexapylum,  whirh  led  in- 
to the  country,  and  was  situated  to  the  north  of  the 
city. 

EPIPOUE  was  a  hill  without  the  city,  which  it  com- 
manded. It  was  situated  between  Hexapylum  and 
the  point  of  Euryelus,  towards  the  north  and  west.  It 
was  exceedingly  steep  in  several  places,  and  for  that 
reason  of  very  difficult  access.  At  the  lime  of  the 
siege  in  <|iirstioti  it  was  not  surrounded  with  walls; 
and  the  Syracusans  defended  it  with  a  body  of  troops, 
against  the  attacks  of  the  enemy.  Euryelus  was  the 
pass  or  entrance  which  led  to  Epipolse.  On  the  same 
hill  of  F.pipolae  was  a  fort  called  Labdalon,  or  Lab- 
daulum. 

It  was  not  till  long  after  (under  Dionvsius  the  ty- 
rant) that  Epipolre  was  surrounded  with  walls,  and 
inclosed  within  the  city,  of  which  it  formed  a  fifth 
part,  but  was  thinly  inhabited.  A  fourth  division  had 


•  PV.  Verr.  f>.  n.  117—119. 

•  Urliom   £yracu«a*  el«-geriit,  cujus  hie  «ltu«  atqne  h*e 
natura  e«se  I'vi  civlique  Hiritur.  til  nullu*  unquam  dire  lam 
mairna  turbnteiiteiiu'"  tempestate  fuerit.  quin  aliquolempore 
•otiMii  "jus  diri  homines  viderent.     Cie.  V'.n .  \.  n.  26. 

t  Ptrnb.  I.  vi.  ),.  2<i9.  «  Cic.  Verr.  7.  n.  1)7 

•  Btrab  1.  vi.  p.  270.     Scnec  Nat.  Qua.-sl  1.  Hi.  r,  26. 


been  added  before,  called  Neapolis,  that  is,  the  New 
City,  which  covered  Tyche. 

The  river  Anapus  ran  at  almost  half  a  league  du- 
tance  from  the  city.*  The  space  between  them  WM 
a  large  and  beautiful  plain,  terminated  by  two  fens, 
the  one  called  Svraco,  whence  the  city  was  named, 
and  the  other  Lvsimelia.  This  river  emptied  itself 
into  the  great  harbour. — Near  its  mouth,  southward, 
was  a  kind  of  castle  called  Olympia,  from  the  temple 
of  Jupiter  Olympius  standing  there,  and  in  which 
were  great  riches.  It  was  500  paces  from  the  city. 

Syr?.c<!«e  had  two  harbours,  very  near  one  another, 
and  separated  only  by  the  Isle,  viz.  the  great  harbour, 
and  tiie  small  one,  callerl  otherwise  Lactus.  Accord- 
ing to  the  description  which  the  Roman  orator  give* 
of  them,7  both  were  surrounded  with  the  building* 
of  the  city. 

The  great  harbour  was  a  little  above  5000  paces,' 
or  two  leagues  in  circumference.  It  had  a  gulf  called 
Dascon.  The  entrance  of  this  port  was  but  500  paceg 
wide.  It  was  formed,  on  one  side,  by  the  point  of  the 
island  Ortygia;  and  on  the  other  by  the  little  island 
and  cape  of  Plemmyrium,  which  was  commanded  by 
a  castle  of  the  same  name. 

Above  Achradina  was  a  third  port,  called  the  har- 
bour of  Trogilus. 

SECTION  XII — NICIAS,  AFTER  SOME  ENGAGE- 
MENTS. BESIEGES  SYRACUSE.  I.AMACHUS  IS 
KI I.I.ED  IN  A  BATTLE.  THE  CITY  IS  REDUCED 
TO  THE  GREATEST  EXTREMITIES. 

Eighteenth  year  nfthe  War. 

AT  the  end  of  the  summer,9  news  was  brought 
Nicias  that  the  Svracusan«  having  resumed  courage, 
intended  to  march  against  him.  Already  their  caval> 
ry  advanced  with  an  air  of  insolence  to  insult  him 
even  in  his  camp;  and  asked  with  a  loud  laugh  whe- 
ther he  was  come  into  Sicily  to  settle  in  Catana, 
These  severe  reproaches  roused  him  a  little,  so  that 
he  resolved  to  sail  for  Syracuse.  The  enterprise  wa» 
bold  and  dangerous.  Nicias  could  not,  without  run- 
ning the  utmost  hazard,  attempt  to  land  in  the  pre- 
sence of  an  enemy  who  waited  for  him  with  the  great- 
est resolution;  and  would  not  fail  to  charge  him,  the 
instant  he  should  offer  to  make  a  descent.  Nor  was 
it  safer  for  him  to  march  his  troops  by  land,  because, 
as  he  had  no  cavalry,  that  of  the  Syracusans,  which 
was  very  numerous,  upon  the  first  advice  they  should 
have  of  his  march,  would  fall  upon  him,  and  over- 
power him  by  the  superiority  of  forces. 

To  extricate  himself  from  this  perplexity,  and  ena- 
ble himself  to  seize  without  opposition  upon  an  advan- 
tageous post,  which  a  Syracusan  exile  had  discovered 
to  him,  Nicias  had  recourse  to  stratagem.  He  caused 
a  false  piece  of  information  to  be  given  to  the  enemy, 
viz,  that  by  means  of  a  conspiracy,  which  was  to  take 
effect  on  a  certain  day,  they  might  seize  on  his  camp, 
and  possess  themselves  of  all  the  arms  and  baggage. 
The  Syracusans,  on  this  assurance,  marched  towards 
Catana,  and  pitched  their  camp  near  Leontium.  The 
moment  the  Athenians  had  advice  of  this,  they  em- 
barked with  all  their  troops  and  ammunition,  and  in 
the  evening  steered  for  Syracuse.  They  arrived  by 
day-break  in  the  great  harbour;  landed  near  Olvmpia, 
in  the  place  which  had  been  pointed  out  to  them,  and 
there  fortified  themselves.  The  enemy,  finding  them- 
selves shamefully  over-reached,  returned  immediately 
to  Syracuse;  and,  in  the  greatest  rage,  drew  up  in 
battfe  array,  some  days  after,  before  the  walls  of  the 
city.  Nicia«  marched  out  of  the  trenches,  and  a  bat- 
tle was  fought.  Victory  was  a  Ions:  time  doubtful; 
but  a  very  heavy  shower  of  rain,  accompanied  with 
thunder  and  lightning,  coming  unexpectedly,  the  Sy- 
racusant,  who  were  inexperienced,  the  greatest  jiart 


•  Plat,  in  Dionys.  vit.  p.  970. 

»  Portos  rmbet   projii  in  trdificatione    aspectuqne    urbii 
incldso*.     Cie.  Perr.(i  n.  117. 

•  According  to  Strata,  it  ID  eighty  stadia  in  circumfer- 
ence, which  is  twice  its  real  extent  ;  a  plain  proof  thai  '. Iii» 
passage  of  Straho  is  corrupt.     Clvrer.  p.  107. 

•  Thucvd.  |.  vi  p.  453— 461.    Plut.  in  Nic.  p.  533,  434, 
Died.  I.  riii.  p.  137.  138 


324 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


of  them  having  never  carried  arms  before,  were  fright- 
ed at  the  tempest,  whilst  their  enemies  laughed  at  it, 
as  the  mere  effect  uf  the  season;  and  regarded  nothing 
but  the  entmv,  who  were  much  more  to  be  dreaded 
than  the  storm.  The  Syracusans,  after  making:  a  long 
and  vigorous  resistance,  were  forced  to  give  way. 
The  Athenians  could  not  pursue  them  far,  because 
their  horse,  which  was  still  in  a  body,  and  had  not 
been  defeated,  covered  their  retreat.  The  Syracnsans 
retreated  in  good  order,  into  ihe  city,  alter  having 
thrown  a  body  of  troops  into  the  temple  of  Olvmpia, 
to  prevent  its  being  plundered. 

This  temple  stood  pretty  near  the  camp  of  the 
Athenians,  who  were  very  desirous  of  taking  it,  be- 
cause it  abounded  with  g^ld  and  silver  offerings, 
which  the  piety  of  kings  and  nations  had  consecrated. 
JVicias  having  delayed  sending  troops  to  seize  it,  lost 
the  opportunity,  and  gave  the  Syracnsans  time  to 
throw  into  it,  as  was  before  observed,  a  detachment 
for  its  defence.  It  was  thought  he  did  this  on  pur- 
pose, and  out  of  reverence  to  the  gods;  because,  had 
the  soldiers  plundered  this  temple,  the  public  would 
not  have  reaped  any  benefit  by  it,  and  himself  alone 
would  have  been  accused  of  this  sacrilege. 

After  the  battle,  the  Athenians,  who  were  not  yet 
in  a  condition  to  attack  Syracuse,  retired  with  their 
fleet  to  JVaxos  and  Catana,  to  winter  there,  with  de- 
sign to  return  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  spring, 
and  lay  siege  to  the  city.  For  this  they  wanted 
money,  provisions,  and  particularly  horse,  of  which 
they  were  absolutely  destitute.  The  Athenians  de- 
pended upon  obtaining  part  of  the  succours  from  the 
people  of  Sicily ,  who  they  supposed  would  join  them, 
the  instant  they  should  hear  of  their  victory;  and  at 
the  smne  time  they  sent  an  express  to  Athens,  to  so- 
licit the  like  aid.  They  also  addressed  the  Cartha- 
ginians for  their  alliance:  and  sent  deputies  to  some 
cities  of  Italy,  situated  or.  the  coast  of  the  Tuscan  sea, 
which  had  promised  to  assist  them. 

The  Sy—'usans  were  far  from  desponding.  Her- 
mocrates,  who.  of  all  their  leaders,  was  most  distin- 
guished for  his  valour,  his  judgment,  and  experience, 
represented  to  them,  in  order  to  raise  their  hopes, 
that  they  had  not  been  wanting  in  courage,  but  in 
conduct;  that  the  enemies,  though  very  brave,  owed 
their  victory  to  their  good  fortune  rather  than  to  their 
merit;  that  the  having  a  multitude  of  leaders  (thev 
were  fifteen  in  number.)  from  which  confusion  and 
disobedience  were  inseparable,  had  done  them  preju- 
dice; that  it  would  be  absolutely  necessary  for  them 
to  choose  experienced  generals,  to  keep  the  rest  in 
their  duty,  Rnd  exercise  their  forces  continually  du- 
ring the  winter  season.  This  advice  being  followed, 
Hermocrales  and  two  more  were  elected  generals; 
after  which  they  sent  deputies  to  Corinth  and  Lace- 
daemon  to  renew  the  alliance,  and  at  the  sanfe  time  to 
engage  them  to  make  a  diversion,  in  order  to  oblige, 
if  possible,  the  Athenians  to  recall  their  troops  out  of 
Sicily,  or  at  least  to  prevent  their  sending  a  reinforce- 
ment thither.  The  fortifying  of  Syracuse  was  the 
chief  object  of  their  care.  Accordingly  they  took  into 
the  citv,  by  a  wall,  all  the  tract  of  land  towards  Fpi- 
pola?,  firm  the  northern  extremity  of  Tyche,  descend- 
ing westward  towards  the  quarter  of  the  city  called 
afterwards  Neapolis,  in  order  to  remove  the  enemy  to 
a  greater  distance,  and  to  give  them  more  trouble  in 
making  their  contravallation,  by  oblijinff  them  to  give 
a  larger  extent  to  it.  This  part',  in  all  probability,  had 
been  neglected,  because  it  seemed  to  be  sufficiently 
defended  by  its  rugged  and  steep  situation.  They  also 
garrisoned  Mcgara  and  Olympia,  and  drove  stakes 
into  all  those  parts  of  the  sea-shore,  where  the  enemy 
might  easily  make  a  descent.  Hearing  afterwards 
that  the  Athenian?  were  at  Naxos,  they  went  and 
burnt  the  camp  of  Catana,  and  retired,  after  JayLng 
waste  the  adjacent  country. 

The  ambns«adors  of  Syracuse  being  arrived  among 
the  Corinthians,1  asked  succour  of  them  a*  having 
Seen  their  founder*,  which  was  immediately  granted; 
•nd  at  the  same  time  they  sent  an  embassy  to  the 

i  fhuoyd.  I.  vi  p.  471— 4R2.  Plut  in  Alcib.  p.  203.  In 
N.r.  p.  534,  535.  Diod.  I.  xiii.  p.  138. 


Lacedaemonians,  to  invite  them  to  declare  in  their  fa- 
vour. Alcibiades  enforced  their  demand  with  all  his 
credit  and  eloquence.,  to  which  his  resentment  against 
Athens  added  new  vigour.  He  advised  and  exhorted 
the  Lacediemonians  to  appoint  Gvlippus  their  gene- 
ral, and  send  him  into  Sicily;  and  at  the  sanx.  time  to 
invade  the  Athenians,  in  order  to  make  a  powtrlul 
diversion.  In  the  third  place,  he  induced  them  to  for- 
tify Decelia  in  Attica,  which  quite  completed  the  ruin 
of  the  city  of  Athens,  it  not  being  able  ever  to  retovei 
that  blow:  for  by  this  fort,  the  Lacedaemoiiuins  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  country,  by  which  the 
Athenians  were  deprived  of  their  silver  mines  of  Lau- 
rium,  and  of  the  revenues  of  their  lands:  nor  coulrf 
they  be  succoured  by  their  neighbours,  Decelia  be- 
coming the  a>\lum  of  all  the  malcontents  and  parti- 
sans of  Sparta. 

JMicias  had  received  some  suc- 
cours from  Athens.  These  consisted  A.  M.  3590. 
of  250  troopers,  who  the.  Athenians  Ant.  J.  C.  414. 
supposed  would  be  furnished  with 
horses  in  Sicily  (the  troops  bringing  only  the  furni- 
ture,) and  of  30  horse-archers,  with  300  talents,  that 
is,  300,000  French  crowns2  JVicias  now  began  to 
prepare  for  action.  He  was  accused  of  oft«  n  lilting 
slip  opportunities,  by  his  losing  time  in  deliberating, 
arguing,  and  concerting  measures;  however,  when 
once  he  entered  upon  action,  he  was  bolu  and  vigor- 
ous in  execution,  as  he  before  had  been  slow  and 
timorous  m  undertaking,  as  he  showed  on  the  present 
occasion. 

The  Syracusans  hearing  that  the  Athenians  had  re- 
ceived a  reinforcement  of  cavalry,  and  would  soon 
march  and  lay  siege  to  the  city;  and  knowing  they 
could  not  possibly  approach  it,  or  make  a  contraval- 
lation, unless  they  should  possess  themselves  of  the 
heights  of  f!pipolae,  which  commanded  Syracuse,  they 
resolved  to  guard  the  avenue  to  it,  which  was  the  on- 
ly pass  by  which  the  enemy  could  get  up  to  it,  every 
other  part  being  rugged  and  inaccessible.  Marching 
therefore  down  into  the  meadow,  bordered  by  the 
river  Anapus,  and  reviewing  their  troops  there,  they 
appointed  700  foot,  under  the  command  of  Diomilus, 
to  guard  that  important  post:  with  orders  to  repair 
to  it.  at  the  first  signal  which  should  be  given  for  that 
purpose.  But  Nicias  conducted  his  design  with  so 
much  prudence,  expedition,  and  secrecy,  that  thejr 
had  not  time  to  tlothis.  He  sailed  from  Catana  wilh 
all  his  fleet,  without  the  enemy's  having  the  least 
suspicion  of  his  design.  Being  arrived  at  the  port 
of  Trogilus,  near  Leontium,  which  is  but  a  quarter 
of  a  league  (six  or  seven  furlong?)  from  Epipolre,  he 
put  his  land  forces  on  shore,  after  which  he  retired 
with  his  fleet  toThapsus,  a  small  peninsula  near  Syra- 
cuse, the  entrance  to  which  he  shut  up  with  a  stac- 
cado. 

The  land  forces  marched  with  the  utmost  expedi- 
tion to  seize  on  F.nipolae,  by  the  pass  of  F.uryc  his,  be- 
fore the  enemy  who  were  in  the  plains  of  Anapus,  at 
above  a  league's  distance,  had  the  least  notice  of  their 
arrival.  At  the  first  news  of  this,  the.  700  soldiers, 
under  the  commend  of  Diomilus,  advanced  forward 
in  confusion,  but  were  easily  defeated,  and  300  of 
them  with  their  leader,  left  dead  in  the  field.  The 
Athenians,  after  setting  up  a  trophy,  built  a  fort  in 
Labdalou,  on  the  summit  of  Kpipolae,  in  order  to  se- 
cure their  baggage  and  most  valuable  effects  in  it, 
whenever  they  should  be  forced  to  fight,  or  work  at 
the  contravallation. 

Soon  after,  the  inhabitants  of  F.gesta  sent  the  Athe- 
nians 300  horse,  to  which  some,  of  their  Sicilian  allies 
added  100  more,  which  with  the  250  sent  before,  by 
the  Athenians,  and  who  had  furnished  themselves 
with  horses  in  Sicily,  made  a  body  of  650  horse. 

The  plan  laid  down  by  Nicias  for  taking  Syracuse, 
was  to  surround  all  the  city  on  the  land  side  with  a 
strong  contravallation,  in  order  to  cut  off  all  commu- 
nication with  the  place  from  without,  in  hopes,  no 
doubt,  that  his  fleet  would  afterwards  enable  him  to 
prevent  the  Syracusans  from  receiving  any  succour  oi 
provisions  by  sea. 


About  67,0001 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


Having  eft  a  garfson  in  Labdalon,  he  came  down 
«  in  the  hill,  advanced  towards  the  northern  extreiu- 
l  •  of  Tyche,  and  halting  there,  he  employed  the 
whole  army  in  throwing  up  a  line  of  contravallation, 
to  shut  up  the  cily  northward  from  Tyche  as  far  a* 
Trogilus,  situate  on  the  sea-side.  This  work  was 
can  it-  I  on  with  such  a  rapidity,  as  terrified  the  Svra- 
•usaus.  They  thought  it  absolutely  necessary  to  pre- 
sent the  carrying  on  of  this  work,  and  accordingly 
made  some  failles  and  attacks,  but  always  with  disad- 
vantage, and  even  their  cavalrv  was  routed.  The 
day  a  ter  the  action,  the  cnntravallation  (northward) 
was  continued  by  part  of  the  army,  during  which  the 
l«>sl  carried  stones  and  other  materials  towards  Tro- 
giliH  in  order  to  finish  it. 

The  besieged,  by  the  advice  of  Hermocrates, 
Caught  it  advisable  not  to  venture  a  second  battle 
with  the  Athenians;  and  only  endeavoured  to  put  a 
(top  t>>  their  works,  or  at  least  to  render  them  use- 
less, by  rai-in^  a  wall  to  cut  the  line  of  that  carried 
on  by  the  Athenians.  They  imagined  that  in  case 
they  should  be  suffered  to  complete  their  wall,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  the  Athenians  to  make  any 
farther  progress  in  their  work:  or  that,  should  they 
endeavour  to  prevent  it,  it  would  be  sufficient  for  the 
Syracusans  to  oppose  them  with  a  part  of  their  f  >rces, 
after  having  shut  up  such  avenues  as  were  most  ac- 
cessible, with  strong  palisades;  and  that  the  Atheni- 
ans, on  the  contrary,  woulJ  be  obliged.to  send  for  all 
their  forces,  and  entirely  abandon  their  works. 

Accordingly  they  came  out  of  their  city,  and  work- 
ing with  inexpressible  ardour,  they  began  to  raise  a 
wall;  and,  in  order  to  carry  it  on  with  Irss  molesta- 
t'on,  they  covered  it  with  strong  palisades,  and  Hanked 
•t  with  wooden  towers  at  proper  distances,  to  defend 
•t.  The  Athenians  suffered  the  Syracusans  to  carry  on 
their  works  undisturbed,  because,  had  they  marched 
only  p-irt  of  their  troops  against  them,  they  would 
have  been  tor>  weak;  and  if'they  had  brought  them 
all,  they  then  must  have  been  obliged  to  discontinue 
their  works,  which  they  had  resolved  not  to  do.  The 
work  being  completed,  the  Syracusans  left  a  body  of 
iroop«  to  defend  the  palisade  and  guard  the  wall,  and 
then  returned  into  the  city. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Athenians  cut  otf  the  canals 
by  which  water  was  conveyed  into  the  city;  and  ob- 
serving that  the  Syracusan  soldier*,  who  had  been  left 
to  guard  the  wall,  were  very  negligent  in  their  duty 
— some  returning  at  noon  either  into  their  city  or 
their  tents,  and  the  rest  not  keeping  a  proper  guard 
— they  Jetached  300  chosen  soldiers,  and  some  light 
infantry,  to  attack  this  past;  during  which  the  rest  of 
the  army  marched  towards  the  city,  to  prevent  any 
succours  from  coming  out  of  it.  Accordingly,  the  300 
iol  'iers  having  forced  the  palisade,  pursued  those  who 
guarded  it  as  far  as  that  part  of  the  city  wall  which 
Covered  Temenites,  where,  pourins:  in  indiscriminate- 
ly with  them,  they  were  repulsed  bv  the  inhabitants 
with  I  )«*.  The  whole  army  afterwards  demolished 
the  wall,  nulled  down  the  palisades  of  the  intrench- 
meut,  aii-l  carried  them  off. 

Alter  the  success  whereby  the  Athenian*  were  mas- 
ter* of  the  northern  parts,  they  began,  the  very  next 
day.  ;\  -till  more  important  work,  and  which  would 
quite  finish  their  inclostire  of  the  city:  vie.  to  carry 

•  wall  I'roni  the  hills  of  Epipolae.  westward,  through 
the  phin  nn;l  the  fens,  as  far  as  the  great  harbour.  To 
prevent  t'lis.  the  besieged,  beginning   t'ie  same   kind 
of  work  a*  they  had  carried  on  on  the  other  side,  ran 

•  trench,  lined"  with  palisades,  from  the  city  through 
the  fen*,  to  prevent  the  Athenians  from  carrying  their 
ror.travalhtion  as  far  as  the  sea:   but  the  latter,  after 
fini-hinir  the  first  part  of  the  wall  on  the  hills  of  F.pi- 
pol;e,   resolved   to  attack   this   new  work.     For  this 
purpose,  they  ordered  their  fleet  to  sail  from  Thapsus 
to  the  great  harbour  of  Syracuse;   for  it  had  hitherto 
continued  in  that  road;  and  the  besieged  had  always 
the   sea  open  to  them,   by  which    the  besiegers  were 
obliged  to  get  their  provisions  frrxn  Tha|t*iis  by  land. 
The  Athenians  came  down  therefore   from   F.pipolie 
into  the  plain  before  day-break,  when  throwing  planks 
and  beams  in  that  part  where  the  fen<  were  only  slimy 
•nd  more  firm  than  in  other  placet,  they  immediately 


carried  the  greatest  part  ol  the  fosse  lined  with  pali- 
sades, and  then  the  rest,  after  having  beaten  the  Sy- 
racusans, who  gave  way  and  retired;  such  as  were  on 
the  right  towards  the  city,  and  the  rest  towards  the 
river.  Three  hundred  chosen  Athenians  having  at- 
tempted to  cut  off  the  passage  of  the  latter,  Ilew  to- 
wards the  bridge;  but  the  enemy's  cavalry,  the  great- 
est part  of  which  were  drawn  up  in  battle,  repulsed 
them;  and  afterwards  charged  the  right  wing  of  the 
Athenians,  and  put  the  first  battalions  into  disorder. 
Lamachus,  perceiving  this  from  the  left  wing,  where 
he  commanded,  ran  thither  with  the  Argives  and 
some  archers;  but  having  passed  a  trench,  and  being 
abandoned  by  his  soldiers,  he  was  ki.led  with  five  or 
six  who  had  followed  him.  The  enemy  immediately 
pa«-rd  the  river,  and  seeing  the  rest  of  the  army  cotue 
up,  they  retired. 

At  the  same  time  their  right  wing,  which  ha.l  re- 
turned towards  the  city,  resumed  courage  from  tins 
success,  and  drew  up  in  order  of  battle  before  the 
Athenians;  after  having  detached  some  troops  to  at- 
tack the  fort  on  the  hiHs  of  Epipolae,  which  served  a* 
a  magazine  to  the  enemy,  and  was  thought  to  be  un- 
guarded. They  forced  an  intrenchment  that  covered 
the  fort,  but  Nicias  saved  it.  He  had  remained  in  this 
fort,  in  consequence  of  illness,  and  was  at  that  time 
in  his  bed,  with  only  his  domestics  about  him.  Ani- 
mated by  the  danger  and  the  presence  of  the  enemy 
he  struggles  with  nis  indisposition;  rises  up,  and  com- 
mands his  servants  to  set  fire  immediately  to  all  the 
timber  lying  between  the  intrenchmenl  and  the  fort 
for  the  "military  engines,  and  to  the  engines  them- 
selves. This  unexpected  conflagration  stopped  the 
Syracusans,  saved  Nicias,  the  fort,  and  all  the  rich 
effects  of  the  Athenians,  who  made  haste  to  the  relief 
of  that  general.  At  the  same  time,  the  fleet  was 
seen  sailing  into  the  great  harbour,  according  to  the 
orders  given  for  that  purpose.  The  Syracusans  hav- 
ing perceived  this  from  the  hill,  and  fearing  thej 
should  be  attacked  from  behind,  and  overpowered  by 
the  troops  wh'u  h  were  about  to  land,  retired,  and  re- 
turned to  the  citv  with  all  their  forces;  now  no  longer 
expecting,  after  having  lost  their  fosse  lined  with  pa- 
lisades, that  it  would  be  possible  for  them  to  prevent 
the  er.emy  from  carrying  on  their  contravallation  at 
far  as  the  sea. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Athenians,  who  had  content- 
ed themselves  with  building  a  single  wall  on  the  hilli 
of  Eppiolae,  and  through  such  places  as  were  craggy 
and  of  difficult  access,  being  come  down  into  the 
plain,  began  to  build,  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  a  double 
wall,  intending  to  carry  it  as  far  as  the  sea;  nit.  a 
wall  of  contravallation  against  the  beseiged,  and  an- 
other of  circumvallation  against  those  Syracusan 
troops  which  were  out  of  the  city,  and  such  allies  aj 
mi<rht  come  to  its  aid. 

From  thenceforward  Nicias,  who  was  now  *ol« 
general,  conceived  great  hopes:  for  several  cities  of 
Sicily,  which  hitherto  had  not  declared  for  either  side 
came  and  joined  him:  and  there  arrived  from  all 
quarters  vessels  laden  with  provisions  for  his  army, 
all  parties  being  eager  to  go  over  to  him  because  he 
had  acquired  the  superiority,  and  been  exceedingly 
successful  in  all  his  undertakings.  The  Syracusang, 
seeing  themselves  blocked  up  both  by  sea  and  land, 
and  losing  all  hopes  of  being  able  to  defend  their  city 
any  longer,  alrrr.cly  proposed  an  accommodation. 
Gvlippn*.  who  was  coming  from  Lacedaemon  to  their 
assistance,  having  heard,  on  hi*  passage,  the  extrem- 
ity to  which  they  were  reduced,  and  looking  upon 
th'e  whole  island  as  lost,  sailed  forward  nevertheless; 
not  with  the  view  of  defending  Sicily,  but  only  of  pre- 
serving to  the  nations  of  Italy  such  cities  as  were 
subject  to  them  in  that  island,  if  it  were  not  too  late, 
and  if  this  could  be  done.  For  fame  had  declared,  in 
all  places  that  the  Athenians  had  already  possessed 
themselves  of  the  whole  island;  and  were  headed  by 
a  general,  whose  wi«dom  and  pood  fortune  rendered 
him  invincible.  Nicias  himself,  now  (contrary  to  hi* 
natural  disposition)  confiding  in  his  own  strength,  and 
flate  from  his  success,  persuaded  also  by  the  secret 
a;lvices  which  were  brought  him  daily  from  Syracuse, 
aid  the  messenger*  who  were  scat  to  him,  that  th« 
2C 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


city  would  immediate)}-  capitulate,  did  not  regard 
Gylijipus's  approach,  and  in  consequence  took  no 
precautions  to  prevent  his  landing-,  especially  when 
he  heard  that  he  brought  but  very  few  vessels;  term- 
ing him  a  trifling  pirate,  not  worthy,  in  any  manner, 
of  his  notice.  But  a  general  ought  to  be  extremely 
careful  not  to  abate  his  cares  and  vigilance  upon  ac- 
count of  success,  because  the  least  negligence  may 
ruin  erery  thing.  Had  .Nicias  sent  the  smallest  de- 
tachment to  oppose  Gvlippiis's  landing,  he  would 
have  taken  Syracuse,  and  the  whole  afiair  had  been 
ended. 

SECTION  XIII.— THE  SYRACUSANS  RESOLVE  TO 
CAPITULATE,  BUT  GYLJPPUS'S  ARRIVAL  CHANGES 
THE  FACE  OF  AFFAIRS.  NICIAS  IS  FORCED  BY 
HIS  COLLEAGUES  TO  ENGAGE  IN  A  SEA-FIGHT, 
AND  IS  OVERCOME.  HIS  LAND-FORCES  ARE  ALSO 
DEFEATED. 

Nineteenth  year  of  the  War. 

THE  forti6cations  of  "the  Athenians  were  now  al- 
most completed;1  and  they  had  drawn  a  double  wall, 
near  half  a  league  in  length,  along  the  plain  and  the 
fens  towards  the  great  port,  and  had  almost  reached 
it.  There  now  remained,  on  the  side  towards  Tro- 
rilus,  only  a  small  part  of  the  wall  to  be  finished. 
The  Svracusans  were  therefore  on  the  brink  of  ruin, 
•  nil  had  no  hopes  left,  as  they  were  no  longer  able 
to  defend  themselves,  and  diu  not  expect  any  suc- 
cours. For  this  reason  they  resolved  to  surrender. 
Accordingly,  a  council  was  neld  to  settle  articles  of 
capitulation,  in  order  to  present  them  to  Nicias;  and 
several  were  of  opinion,  that  it  would  be  proper  to 
capitulate  soon,  before  the  city  should  be  entirely  in- 
vested. 

It  was  at  that  very  instant,  and  in  the  most  critical 
juncture,  that  an  oftcer,  Gongylus  bv  name,  arrived 
from  Corinth  on  board  a  ship  with  three  benches  of 
oars.  At  his  arrival,  all  the  citizens  flocked  round 
him.  He  informed  them,  that  Gvlippus  would  be 
with  them  immediately,  and  was  followed  by  a  great 
many  other  galleys,  wVich  were  coming  to  their  aid. 
The  Syracusans,  astonished,  or  rather  stupified,  as  it 
were,  with  this  news,  could  scarce  believe  what  they 
heard.  Whilst  they  were  thus  fluctuating  and  in 
doubt,  a  courier  arrived  from  Gvlippus  to  inform  them 
of  his  approach,  and  order  them  to  march  out  all 
their  troops  to  meet  him.  He  himself,  after  having 
taken  a  fort  in  his  way,2  marched  in  order  of  battle 
directly  for  F-pipolae:  and  ascending  by  Euryelus,  as 
the  Athenians  had  done,  he  prepared  to  attack  them 
from  without,  whilst  the  Syracusans  should  charge 
them,  on  their  side,  with  the  force  s  of  Syracuse  and 
his.  The  Athenians,  exceedingly  surprised  at  his 
arrival,  drew  up  hastily,  and  without  order,  under 
the  walls.  With  regard  to  himself,  laying  down  his 
arms  when  he  approached,  he  sent  word  by  a  herald, 
tiiat  he  would  allow  the  Athenians  five  days  to  leave 
Sicily.  Nicia*  did  not  not  condescend  to  make  the 
li-ast  answer  to  this  proposal;  and  some  of  his  sol- 
diers bursting  out  a  laughing,  asked  the  herald. 
"Whether  the  presence  of  a  Lacedspmonian  cloak, 
and  a  trifling  wand,  could  make  any  change  in  the 
present  state  of  the  city  ?"  Both  sides  therefore 
prepared  for  battle. 

Gvlippus  stormed  the  fort  of  Lebdalon.  and  cut  to 
pieces  all  who  were  found  in  it.  The  same  day  an 
Athenian  galley  was  taken,  as  it  tailed  into  the  har- 
bour. The  besieged  afterwards  drew  a  wall  from  the 
city,  towards  Epipola?,  in  order  to  cut  (about  the  ex- 
tremity of  it)  the  single  w»ll  of  the  Athenians;  and 
to  deprive  them  of  all  communication  with  t'le  troops 
that  were  posted  in  the  intrenchments  which  sur- 
rounded the  city  on  the  north  side  towards  Tycheand 
Tro-r\  Ins.  The  Athenians,  after  having  finished  the 
wall,  wdich  extended  as  far  as  the  sea  towards  the 
great  harbour,  were  returned  to  the  hills.  Gvlippus 
perceiving,  in  the  single  wail  which  the  Athenians 
had  built  on  the  hilN  of  Epipolae,  one  part  that  was 
wtukrr  and  lower  than  the  rest,  marched  thither  in 

i  Thu.-vd.  I.  vii.  p.  4&J— 489.     Pint,  in  Nic.  p.  533,  530 
Dim).  I.  xiii.  p  138,  139. 
*  Jegei 


the  night  with  his  troops;  but  being  discovered  hjr 
the  Athenians,  who  were  encamped  without,  he  wai 
forced  to  retire,  upon  seeing  them  advance  directly 
towards  him.  They  raised  the  wall  higher,  and  them- 
selves undertook  the  guard  of  it,  alter  having  fixed 
their  allies  in  the  several  posts  of  the  remainder  of  the 
intrenchment. 

Nicias,  on  the  other  side,  thought  proper  to  fortify 
the  cape  of  Plemmyrium,  which,  by  its  running  into 
the  sea,  straitened  the  mouth  of  the  great  harbour; 
and  his  design  thereby  was,  to  procure  provisions,  and 
all  other  things  he  might  r.a.it,  the  moie  easily;  be- 
cause the  Athenians,  by  possessing  th(  mstlves  of  that 
post,  drew  near  the  little  port,  wherein  lay  the  chiel 
naval  forces  of  the  Syracusans,  ar,d  were  the  better 
able  to  observe  their  various  mo'rons;  and  that  be- 
sides, by  having  the  sea  open,  t'iey  would  not  be 
forced  to  have  all  their  provisions,  f.vm  the  bottom  of 
the  great  harbour;  as  they  must  have  been,  should 
the  enemy,  by  seizing  on  the  mouth  of  it, oblige  them 
to  keep  close  in  the  harbour,  in  the  manner  they  then 
did.  ,For  Nicias,  since  the  arri\al  of  G\lippus,  had 
had  no  hopes  left  but  from  the  side  next  the  sea. 
Sending  therefore  his  fleet  and  part  of  his  troops 
thither,  he  built  three  forts,  sheltered  by  which  his 
ships  were  enabled  to  lie  at  anchor;  he  also  secured 
there  a  great  part  of  the  baggage  and  ammunition. 
It  was  then  that  the  troops  on  board  the  Heel  suffer- 
ed »ery  much,  foi  as  they  were  obliged  to  go  a  great 
way  to  fetch  wood  and  water,  they  were  surrounded 
by  the  enemy's  horse,  the  third  part  of  which  were 
posted  af  Olympia,  to  prevent  the  garrison  of  Plem- 
myrium from  sallying1,  and  were  masters  of  the  open 
country.  Advice  being  brought  to  Nicias,  that  the 
Corinthian  fleet  was  advancing,  he  sent  twenty  gal- 
leys against  it;  ordering  them  to  observe  the  tntmj 
towards  Locris,  Rhegium,  and  the  rest  of  the  avenue* 
of  Sicily. 

In  the  mean  time,  Gylippus  employing  those  very 
stones  which  the  Athenians  had  got  together  for  their 
own  use,  went  on  with  the  wall  which  the  Syracusans 
had  begun  to  carry  through  Epipola?;  and  drew  up 
daily  in  battle  array  before  it,  as  did  the  Athenians. 
When  he  saw  it  was  a  proper  time  for  engaging,  h« 
began  the  battle  in  the  spot  lying  between  the  two 
walls.  The  narrowness  of  it  having  rendered  his 
cavalry  and  archers  useless,  he  came  off  with  loss, 
and  the  Athenians  set  up  a  trophy.  Gjlippiis,  to  re- 
animate his  soldiers  by  doing  them  justice,  had  the 
courage  to  reproach  himself  for  the  ill  success  they 
had  met  with:  and  to  declare  publicly,  that  he,  not 
they,  had  occasioned  the  late  defeat;  because  he  had 
made  them  fight  in  too  confined  a  spot  of  ground. 
However,  he  promised  to  give  them  soon  an  opportu- 
nity of  recovering  both  their  honour  and  his;  and  ac- 
cordingly the  very  next  dav  he  led  them  against  the 
enemy,  after  having  exhorted  them  in  the  strongest 
terms,  to  behave  in  »  manner  worthy  of  thfir  ancient 
glory.  Nicias  perceiving,  that  though  he  should  nol 
desire  to  come  to  a  battle,  it  would  however  be  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  him  to  prevent  the  enemy  from 
extending  their  wall  beyond  the  wall  of  contravalla- 
tion,  to  which  they  were  already  very  near  (because 
otherwise  this  would  be  granting  them  a  certain  vie- 
torv:)  he  therefore  marched  against  the  Svracusans. 
Gvlippus  brought  up  his  troops  beyond  the  spot 
where  the  walls  terminated  on  both  sides,  in  order 
that  he  might  lenve  the  more  room  to  extend  his  bat- 
tle: when  charging  the  enemy's  left  wing  with  hig 
horse,  he  put  it  to  flight,  and  soon  after  defeated  the 
right.  We  see  here  what  the  experience  and  abilities 
of  a  great  captain  are  capable  of  producing;  for  Gv- 
lippus, with  the  same  mm,  the  same  arms,  the  same 
horses,  and  the  same  ground,  bv  only  changing  his 
order  of  battle,  defeated  the  Athenians,  and  beat  them 
quite  to  their  camp.  The  following  nisrht,  the  victors 
carried  on  their  wall  beyond  the  contravallation  of 
the  Athenians,  and  thereby  d>  prived  them  of  all  hopes 
of  being  ever  able  to  surround  them. 

After   this   success,8  the  Syracusans,  to  whose  aid 


»  Thyerd.  1.  rii.  p  490-41M.    Pint,  in  Nic.  p.  S3b.    Dio* 
I.  ziii.  i»  J39. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


3iJ7 


the  Corinthian  fleet  was  arrived  unperceived  by  that 
of  the  Athenians,  resumed  courage,  armed  several 
galleys;  and  marching  into  the  plains  with  their  ca- 
valry and  other  forces,  took  a  great  number  of  priso- 
ners. They  sent  deputies  to  Lacedaemonia  and  Co- 
rinth, to  desire  a  reinforcement;  Gylippus  went  in 
person  through  all  the  cities  of  Sicily,  to  solicit  them 
to  join  him;  and  brought  over  the  greatest  part  of 
them,  who  accordingly  sent  him  powerful  succours. 
.Nicias,  finding  his  troops  lessen  and  those  of  the  ene- 
my increase  daily,  began  to  be  discouraged;  and  not 
only  sent  expresses  to  the  Athenian*,  to  acquaint 
them  with  the  situation  of  affairs,  but  likewise  wrote 
to  them  in  the  strongest  term*.  I  shall  repeat  his 
whole  letter,  both  as  it  gives  a  clear  and  exact  account 
of  the  state  of  things  at  that  tit  le  in  Syracuse,  and 
may  serve  as  a  model  for  such  kind  of  relations. 

"Athenians:  I  have  already  informed  you,  by  se- 
veral expresses,  of  what  was  passing  here:  but  it  is 
necessary  you  should  know  tin  present  situation  of 
affairs,  that  you  may  resolve  accordingly.  After  we 
bad  been  victorious  in  several  engagements,  no  i  had 
almost  completed  our  contravaliation,  Gvlippus  ar- 
rived in  Syracuse  with  a  body  of  Lacedaemonians  and 
Sicilian  troops;  and,  having  hnen  defeated  the  first 
time,  he  was  victorious  the  second,  by  means  of  his 
cavalry  and  archers.  We  are  in  consequence  shut 
up  in  our  intrenchments,  without  daring  to  make  any 
attempt,  and  unable  to  complete  our  works,  through 
the  superiority  of  the  enemy's  forces;  for  part  of  our 
•oldiers  are  employed  in  guarding  our  forts,  and  con- 
sequently we  have  not  an  opportunity  of  employing 
all  our  forces  in  battle.  Besides,  as  the  Syracusans 
have  cut  our  lines,  by  a  wall,  in  that  part  where  they 
were  not  complete,  it  will  no  longer  be  possible  for 
js  to  surround  the  city,  unless  we  should  force  their 
iiitreuchments;  so  that  instead  of  besieging,  we  our- 
selves are  besieged,  and  dare  not  stir  out,  for  fear  of 
their  horse. 

"  Not  contented  with  these  advantage*,  they  are 
bringing  new  succours  from  Peloponnesus,  and  have 
«ent  Gylippus  to  force  all  the  neutral  cities  of  Sicily 
to  declare  tor  them;  and  the  rest  to  furnish  them  with 
.men  and  ships,  to  attack  us  both  by  sea  and  land.  I 
say  by  sea,  which,  though  very  surprising,  is  however 
but  too  true.  For  our  fleet,  which  before  was  con- 
siderable, from  the  good  condition  of  the  galleys  and 
mariner?,  is  no>v  very  deficient  in  those  very  circum- 
stances, and  prodigiously  weakened. 

"Our  galleys  leak  every  where;  because  we  can- 
not draw  them  on  shore  to  careen  thi  in,  for  fear,  lest 
those  of  the  enemy,  which  are  more  numerous  and 
in  belter  condition  than  ours,  should  attack  us  on  a 
sudden,  which  they  seem  to  threaten  every  moment. 
Besides,  we  are  under  a  necessity  of  sending  many 
backwards  and  forwards,  to  guard  the  convoys  which 
we  are  forced  to  fetch  from  a  great  distance,  and 
faring  along  in  the  sight  of  the  enemy;  so  that  should 
we  be  ever  so  little  negligent  in  this  point,  our  army 
would  he  starved. 

"With  regard  to  the  ships'  crews,  they  decrease 
•ensibly  every  day;  for  as  great  numbers  of  them 
di*pi  r-e  to  maraud,  or  to  letrh  wood  and.  water,  they 
are  olten  cut  to  pieces  by  the  enemy's  horse.  Our 
slaves,  allured  by  the  neighbourhood  of  the  enemy's 
camp,  desert  very  fast  to  it.  The  foreigners  whom 
we  forced  into  the  service,  disband  daily;  and  such 
as  have  bteu  raised  with  money,  who  came  for  plun- 
der ratner  than  fighting,  finding  themselves  baulked, 
ro  oxe.r  to  the  enemy,  who  are  so  near  us,  or  else 
bide  themselves  in  Sicily,  which  they  may  easily  do  in 
to  large  an  island.  A  sfieat  number  of  citizen*,  thousrh 
lonir  used  to,  and  well  skilled  in,  working  of  ships,  by 
bribing  the  captains,  have  put  others  in  their  rooni, 
who  are  wholly  unexperienced,  and  incapable  of  serv- 
ing, an  I  liy  that  means  have  subverted  all  discipline. 
I  am  now  writing  to  men  perfectly  well  versed  in 
nival  affairs:  and  who  are  very  sensible,  that,  when 
order  s  neglected,  every  thing  grows  worse  and 
worse,  and  a  fleet  must  inevitably  be  ruined. 

'•  But.  the  most  unhappy  circumstance  is,  that, 
though  I  am  invested  with  the  authority  of  general,  I 
cannot  put  a  stop  to  these  disorders.  For  ^Atheni- 


ans) you  are  very  sensible,  th»t  such  is  your 
tion,  that  you  do  not  easily  brook  restraint;  beside*. 
I  do  not  know  where  to  furnish  myself  with  seamen, 
whilst  the  enemy  get  numbers  from  all  quarters.  It 
is  not  in  the  power  of  our  Sicilian  allies  to  aid  us;  and 
should  the  cities  of  Italy,  from  whence  we  have  out 
provisions  (hearing  the  extremity  to  which  we  are 
reduced,  and  that  you  do  not  take  the  least  care  to 
send  us  any  succour,)  join  the  Syracusans,  we  are  un- 
done; and  the  enemy  will  have  no  occasion  to  tight  us. 

"  I  could  write  of  things  which  would  be  more 
agreeable,  but  of  none  that  could  be  more  proper  to 
give  you  a  just  idea  of  the  subjects  on  which  you  are 
to  deliberate.  1  am  sensible  that  you  love  to  hare 
such  advices  only  sent  you  as  are  pleasing;  but  the* 
1  know  on  the  other  side,  that  when  affairs  turn  out 
otherwise  than  you  expected  and  hoped  for,  you  ac- 
cuse those  who  deceived  you;  which  has  induced  me 
to  give  you  a  sincere  and  genuine  account  of  things, 
without  concealing  a  single  circumstance.  By  th« 
way,  I  am  to  inform  you.  that  no  complaints  can  be 
justly  made  either  against  the  officers  or  common 
soldiers,  both  having  done  their  duty  very  well. 

"  But  now  that  the  Sicilians  are  joining  all  their 
forces  against  us,  and  expect  a  new  army  from  Pelo- 
ponnesus; you  may  lay  this  down  as  the  foundation 
for  your  deliberations,  that  our  present  troops  are  not 
sufficient;  and,  therefore,  we  either  must  be  recdlled, 
or  else  a  land  and  naval  force,  equal  to  the  first,  must 
be  sent  us,  with  money  in  proportion.  You  must  also 
think  of  appointing  a  person  to  succeed  me;  it  being 
impossible  for  me,  through  my  nephritic  disorder,  to 
sustain  any  longer  the  weight  of  the  command.  I 
imagine  that  I  deserve  this  favour  at  your  hands,  on 
account  of  the  services  I  have  done  you,  in  the  several 
commands  conferred  upon  me,  so  long  as  my  health 
would  permit  me  to  act. 

"To  conclude:  whatever  resolution? you  may  coma 
to,  the  request  I  have  to  make,  is,  that  you  would 
execute  it  speedily,  and  in  the  very  beginning  of  the 
spring.  The  succours  which  our  enemies  meet  with 
in  Sicily,  are  all  ready;  but  those  which  they  expect 
from  Peloponnesus  may  he  longer  in  coming.  How- 
ever, fix  this  in  your  minds,  that  if  you  do  not  exert 
yourselves,  the  Lacedaemonians  will  not  fail,  as  they 
nave  already  done,  to  be  beforehand  with  you." 

The  Athenians  were  strongly  affected  with  this  let- 
ter, which  made  as  great  an  impression  on  them  as 
Nicies  expected.  However,  they  did  not  think  pro- 
per to  appoint  him  a  successor;  and  only  nominated 
two  officers  who  were  under  him,  viz.  Menander  and 
Kuthydemus,  to  assist  him  till  other  generals  should 
be  sent.  Eurymedon  and  Demosthenes  were  chosen 
to  succeed  Lamachus  and  Alcihiades.  The  former 
set  out  immediately  with  ten  galleys,  and  some  mo- 
ney,1 about  the  winter  solstice,  to  assure  JS'icias  that 
a  speedy  succour  should  be  sent  him:  during  which, 
the  latter  was  raising  troops  and  contributions,  in 
order  to  set  sail  early  in  the  spring. 

The     Lacedaemonians,*    on    the 

other  side,  being  supported  by  the  A.  M.  3591. 

Corinthians,  were  very  industrious  Ant.  J.  C.  413. 
in  preparing  reinforcements  to  send 
into  Sicily,  and  enter  Attica,  in  order  to  keep  the 
Athenian  fleet  from  sailing  to  that  island.  Accord- 
ingly they  entered  Attica  early,  under  the  command 
of  king  Aeis:  and  after  having  laid  wa*te  the  coun- 
try, they  fortified  Decelia:  having  divided  the  work 
among  all  the  forces,  to  make  the  greater  despatch. 
This  post  is  about  120  furlongs  from  Athens,  that  in, 
about  six  French  leagues,  and  the  same  distance  from 
Bceotia.  Alcihiades  was  perpetually  soliciting  the 
Lacedemonians;  and  could  not  be  easy,  till  he  had 
prevailed  with  them  to  begin  that  work.  This  an- 
noyed the  Athenians  iiiost  of  all:  for  as  hitherto  the 
enemy  had  been  accustomed  to  retire  after  they  had 
laid  waste  the  Athenian  territories,  the  latter  '.ver* 
unmolested  nil  the  rest  of  the  year:  but  since  the  fo-- 
tifying  of  Decelia,  the  garrison  left  in  it  was  continu- 


i  One  hundred  and  Iwrntv  tnlenta. 
«  Thucrd.  1.  vii.  p.  494—496,  and  509—504.     Died.  I.  nil 
p  140.      ' 


328 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


ally  making  incursion?,  and  ilarmmg  the  Athenians, 
Athens  being  now  become  a  kind  of  frontier  town; 
for  in  the  day-time  a  guard  was  mounted  at  all  the 
gales;  and  in  the  night,  all  the  citizens  were  either 
on  the  wail,  or  under  arms.  Such  vessels  as  brought 
provisions  from  the  island  of  F.ubuea.and  which  before 
had  a  much  shorter  passage  by  Decelia,  were  forced 
to  go  round  about,  in  order  to  double  the  cape  of 
Suiiiiiin;  by  which  means,  provisions,  as  well  as  goods 
imported,  grew  much  dearer.  To  heighten  the  ca- 
lamitv  upwards  of  20,000  slaves,  the  greatest  part  of 
whom  were  artificers,  went  over  to  the  enemy,  to  fly 
from  the  extreme  misery  with  which  the  city  was  af- 
flicted. The  cattle  of  all  kinds  died.  Most  of  the 
horses  were  lamed,  being  continually  upon  guard,  or 
upon  parties.  Every  thing  being  laid  waste  in  this 
manner,  and  the  Athenians  enjoying  no  longer  the 
revenues  which  arose  from  the  produce  of  their  lands, 
there  was  a  prodigious  scarcity  of  money;  go  that 
they  were  forced  to  take  the  twentieth  part  of  all  the 
imports,  to  supply  their  usual  subsidies. 

In  the  mean  time,1  Gylippus,  who  had  made  the 
tour  of  Sicily,  returned  with  as  many  men  as  he  could 
raise  in  the  whole  island;  and  prevailed  with  the  Sy- 
racusans  to  fit  out  the  strongest  fleet  in  their  power, 
and  to  hazard  a  battle  at  sea,  upon  the  presumption 
that  the  success  would  answer  the  greatness  of  the 
enterprise.  This  advice  was  strongly  enforced  by 
Hermocrates,  who  exhorted  the  Syracusang  not  to 
abandon  to  their  enemies  the  empire  of  the  seas.  He 
observed,  that  the  Athenians  themselves  had  not  re- 
ceived it  from  their  ancestors,  nor  been  always  pos- 
sessed of  it:  that  the  Persian  war  had  in  n  manner 
forced  them  into  the  knowledge  of  naval  affairs,  not- 
withstanding two  great  obstacles,  their  natural  dispo- 
sition, and  the  situation  of  their  city,  which  stood  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  the  sea:  that  they  had 
made  themselves  formidable  to  other  nations,  not  so 
much  by  their  real  strength,  as  by  their  courage  and 
intrepidity:  that  they  ought  to  copy  them;  and  since 
they  had  to  do  with  enemies  who  were  so  enterprising, 
it  was  fit  they  should  be  daring. 

This  advice  was  approved,  and  accordingly  a  large 
fleet  was  equipped.  Gylippus  led  out  all  his  land 
forces  ill  the  night-time,  to  attack  the  forts  of  Plem- 
myriiim.  Thirty-five  Syracusan  galleys  which  were 
hi  the  great  harbour,  and  forty-five  in  the  lesser, 
where  was  an  arsenal  for  ships,  were  ordered  to  ad- 
vance towards  Plemmyrium,  to  amaze  the  Athenians, 
who  would  see  themselves  attacked  both  by  sea  and 
land  at  the  same  time.  The  Athenians,  at  this  news, 
went  on  board  also;  and,  with  twenty-five  ships,  sail- 
ed to  fight  the  thirty-five  Syracusan  vessels  which 
were  sailing  out  against  them  from  the  great  harbour; 
and  opposed  thirty-five  more  to  the  forty-five  of  the 
enemy,  which  were  come  out  of  the  little  port.  A 
sharp  engagement  was  fought  at  the  mouth  of  the 
great  harbour;  one  party  endeavouring  to  force  their 
way  into  it,  and  the  other  to  keep  them  out. 

Those  who  defended  the  forts  of  Plernmyriiim 
having  flocked  to  the  shore  to  view  the  battle,  Gy- 
lippus  attacked  the  forts  unexpectedly  by  day-break; 
and  having  carried  the  greatest  of  them  by  storm,  the 
soldiers  who  defended  the  other  two  were  so  terrified, 
that  they  abandoned  them  in  a  moment.  After  this 
advantage  the  Syracusans  sustained  a  considerable 
loss:  for  such  of  their  vessels  as  fought  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  harbour  (after  having  forced  the  Athe- 
nians) ran  foul  of  one  another  with  much  violence,  as 
they  entered  it  in  disorder;  and  by  this  means  trans- 
ferred the  victory  to  their  enemies,  who  were  not 
contented  with  pursuing,  but  also  gave  chase  to  those 
who  were  victorious  in  the  great  harbour.  Eleven 
Syracufan  galleys  were  sunk,  and  great  numbers  of 
the  saibrs  in  them  killed.  Three  were  taken;  but 
the  Athenians  likewise  lost  three,  and  after  towinir  oil 
those  of  the  enemy,  they  raised  a  trophy  in  a  little 
island  that  lay  before  Plemmyrium,  and  retired  to  the 
shelter  of  their  camp. 

The  Syracusans  also  raised  three  trophies  for  their 

•  Thuryd.  1  vr.  p.  497— 500.  Pint,  in  Nic.  p.  530.  Diod. 
t  MO 


taking  of  the  three  forts;  and  after  raising  one  of  the 
smaller,  they  repaired  the  fortifications  of  the  other 
txvo,  and  put  garrisons  into  them.  Several  Atheni- 
ans had  been  either  killed  or  made  prisoners,  there; 
and  great  sums  of  money  were  taken,  the  property  of 
the  public,  as  well  as  of  merchants  and  captains  ot 
galleys,  besides  a  large  quantity  of  ammunition;  tint 
being  a  kind  of  magazine  for  the  whole  army.  They 
likewise  lost  the  stores  and  rigging  of  forty  galleys, 
with  three  ships  that  lay  in  the  dock,  lint  a  more 
considerable  circumstance  was,  Gylinpus  thereby  pre- 
vented IVicias  from  getting  provisions  and  ammuni- 
tions so  easily;  for,  whilst  the  latter  wan  possessed 
of  Plemmyriuiii,  these  were  procured  securely  and 
expeditiously ;  whereas,  after  that  place  was  lost,  it 
was  equally  difficult  and  hazardous,  because  they 
could  not  bring  in  any  thing  without  fighting;  the 
enemy  lying  at  anchor  just  off  their  fort.  Thus  the 
Athenians  could  have  no  provisions  but  from  thr 
point  of  their  swords;  which  dispirited  the  solditrs 
very  much,  and  threw  the  whole  army  into  a  great 
consternation. 

There  afterwards  was  a  little  skirmish  in  defending 
a  staccado  which  the  inhabitants  had  made  in  the 
sea,2  at  the  entrance  of  the  old  hrrbour  to  secure  the 

shipping.     The  Athenians  having  raised   towers  and 

i  i  -  i     •       t 

parapets  on  a  large  snip,  made  it  advance  as  near  as 

possible  to  the  staccado,  in  order  that  it  might  serve 
as  a  bulwark  to  some  ships  which  carried  military 
engines,  with  which  they  drew  up  the  stakes  by  th« 
help  of  pulleys  and  ropes,  exclusive  of  those  which 
the  divers  sawed  in  two;  the  besieged  defending 
themselves  from  their  harbour,  and  the  enemies  from 
their  tower.  Such  stakes  as  had  been  driven  in,  levei 
with  the  surface  of  the  water,  in  order  to  strand  those 
vessels  that  should  come  near  them,  were  the  hardest 
to  force  away.  The  clivers,  however,  being  induced 
by  large  sums  of  money,  succeeded  in  removing  these 
also,  and  most  of  the  stakes  were  torn  up;  out  thtn 
others  were  immediately  driven  in  their  places.  The 
utmost  efforts  were  used  on  both  sides,  in  the  attack 
as  well  as  the  defence. 

One  circumstance  which  the  besieged  considered 
of  the  greatest  importance,3  was  to  attempt  a  second 
engagement  both  by  sea  and  land,  before  the  lleet, 
and  other  succours  sent  by  the  Athenians,  should 
arrive.  They  had  concerted  fresh  measures  for  a 
battle  at  sea,  profiting  by  the  errors  they  had  commit- 
ted in  the  last  engagement.  The  change  made  in  the 
galleys  was,  their  prows  were  now  shorter,  and  at  the 
same  time  stronger  and  more  solid  than  before.  For 
this  purpose,  they  fixed  great  pieces  of  timber,  pro- 
jecting forward,  on  each  side  of  the  prows;  and  to 
these  pieces  they  joined  beams  by  w»y  of  props. 
These  beams  extended  to  the  length  of  six  cubits  on 
each  side  of  the  vessel,  both  within  and  without.  By 
this  they  hoped  to  gain  the  advantage  over  the  galleys 
of  the  Athenians,  which  did  not  dare,  because  of  the 
weakness  of  their  prows,  to  attack  an  enemy  in  front 
but  only  in  flank;  not  to  mention  that  should  the 
battle  be  fought  in  the  harbour,  they  would  not  have 
room  to  spread  themselves  nor  pass  between  two 
galleys,  in  which  lay  their  greatest  art;  nor  to  tack 
about,  after  they  should  have  been  repulsed,  in  ordei 
to  return  to  the  charge;  whereas  the  Syracusans,  by 
their  being  masters  of  the  whole  extent  of  the  har- 
bour, would  have  all  these  advantages  and  might  re- 
ciprocally assist  one  another.  On  these  circumstances 
the  latter  founded  their  hopes  of  victory. 

Gylippus  therefore  first  drew  all  the  infantry  out 
of  the  ramp,  and  advanced  towards  that  part  of  the 
contravallation  of  the  Athenians  which  faced  the  rity; 
whilst  the  troops  of  Olympia  marched  towards  tna 
other,  and  their  gnlleys  set  sail. 

Nicias  WHS  unwilling  to  venture  a  second  battle, 
saying,  that  as  he  expected  a  fresh  fleet  every  n:o 
ment.and  a  strong  reinforcement  under  Dcmostfu  ncs, 
it  would  betray  the  greatest  want  of  judgement  sliou!? 
he,  as  his  troops  were  inferior  in  number  to  those  of 
the  enemy,  and  already  fatigmd,  hazard  a  battle  with 


aThucyd.  l.rii.  (>.  500.501. 

•   ll>i/l    n    _WI S13        I'lut    ir 


Ibid 


•yil    l.vii.  |t.  500.501. 

ji.  50U— 513.     I'lut  in  Nic.  p.  536.    Diod.  p.  1 10.  Ml 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


329 


•nl  being  forced  to  it.  On  the  contrary,  Menander 
•nd  F.iithydemus,  who  had  just  before  been  appointed 
to  -I. are  the  command  with  Nicias  till  the  arrival  of 
Demosthenes,  fired  with  ambition,  and  jealous  of 
those  genesis,  were  eager  to  perform  some  great 
exploit,  to  bereave  the  one  of  his  glory,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, eclipse  that  of  the  other.  The  pretence  they 
ailc-c.!  on  this  occasion,  was,  the  fame  and  reputation 
of  Athens;  and  they  asserted  with  so  much  vehe- 
mence, that  it  would  be  entirely  destroyed  should 
they  sliun  the  battle,  as  the  Syracusans  offered  it 
them,  that  they  at  last  forced  Nicias  to  a  compliance. 
The  Athenians  had  seventy-five  galleys,  and  the  Sy- 
racusans  eighty. 

The  first  day  the  fleets  continued  in  sight  of  each 
other,  in  the  great  harbour,  without  engaging:  and 
only  a  few  skirmishes  parsed,  alter  which  both  par- 
ties ri  tired:  an, I  it  was  just  the  same  with  the  land- 
force*.  The  Svracusans  did  not  make  the  least  move- 
ment the  second  d:iv.  Nicias  taking  advantage  of 
this  inactivity,  caused  the  transports  to  draw  up  in  a 
line,  nt  some  distance  from  one  another,  in  order  that 
his  galleys  might  retire  behind  them  with  safety,  in 
case  of  a  defeat.  On  the  morrow,  the  Svracusans 
came  up  g.>oner  than  u.sual,  when  a  great  part  of  the 
<i?y  w;ts  spent  in  skirmishing,  alter  which  they  retired. 
The  Athenians  did  not  suppose  they  would  return,  but 
imagined  thai  fear  had  made  them  fly:  but  having  re- 
freshfil  themselves  with  great  diligence, and  returning 
on  hoard  their  galleys,  they  attacked  the  Athenians, 
who  were  far  from  expecting  them.  The  latter  being 
now  I. .reed  to  return  immediately  on  board  their 
ships,  they  entered  them  in  great  disorder,  so  that 
they  had  not  time  to  draw  them  up  in  a  line  of  battle, 
and  most  of  the  sailors  were  fasting.  Victory  did 
not  lung  continue  in  suspense.  The  Athenians,  after 
making  a  short  and  slight  resistance,  retired  behind 
their  line  of  transports.  The  enemy  pvnu«d  them 
thither,  am:'  were  stopped  by  the  sc»ilyprds  i-f  those 
ship*,  to  which  were  fixed  dolphins  of  Ispd,'  which, 
being  v.  rv  heavy,  had  they  fallen  or.  the  « neiny's 
gall«\s,  \voul  I  have  sunk  then  at  on<  e.  Tile  Athe- 
nians lost  seven  galleys  -n  this  engigenifnt,  and  a 
great  number  of  soldiers  were  elthiu  tilled  or  taken 
prisoners. 

This  lo*s  threw  Nicias  into  the  ntmof.t  consterna- 
tion.2 All  the  misfortunes  he  hrd  met  with,  ever 
since  the  lime  he  had  lirr,t  erjoyed  the  supreme  com- 
mand, came  into  his  mind;  and  he  norr  is  involved  in 
a  greater  than  any  o' them,  by  h'/s  corcply  ing  with  the 
advice  of  his  Collflgocs.  W'liist  he  was  revolving 
these  gloomy  id-jjs,  Demosthenes'*  fleet  was  seen 
coming  forward  HI  great  p-jinn,  a-.i'l  with  such  an 
air  as  must  fill  /h«  enemy  with  drnad:  it  was  now 
the  day  after  -he  battle.  This  f,eet  consisted  of 
seventy-three  f-tlley*,  on  board  of  which  were  50QQ 
fighting  men,  t-ad  about  3POO  archers,  stingers,  and 
cowmen.  All  Ihesa  gr.lleys  w^re  richly  trimmed; 
ntir  prows  I  «ing  adrrned  with  shining  streamers, 
outlined  with  tout  rowerj,  commanded  by  good  offi- 
•crs.  and  eel  ,ing  wiih  the  sound  of  clarions  and 
Crumpets;  P  mosth'.-nes  baring  affected  an  air  of 
pomp  and  t.  .umph.  purposely  to  strike  terror  into 
the  enemy. 

This  gal?-  at  sight  alaimed  them  indeed  beyond 
expression1  They  did  not  see  any  end,  or  even  the 
least  susi><  ision  of  their  calamities;  all  they  had 
hitheito  i.>ne  or  suffered  was  as  nothing,  and  their 
woikwa-  10  begin  again.  What  hopes  could  they 
entertain  *>(  bi  ing  able  to  weary  out  the  patience  of 
the  Ath-  /lians,  since,  though  a  hostile  camp  was  in- 
trench';  )  in  the  middle  of  Attica,  they  were  however 
able  t<  tend  a  second  army  into  Sicily,  as  considera- 
ble a*  fte  former;  and  their  power,  as  well  as  their 
conrfj  v,  seemed,  notwithstanding  all  their  losses,  in- 
steal'  _,f  diminishing,  to  increase  daily  ? 

P-  .  uostlu  IKS  h;t\ing  made  an  exact  inquiry  into 
thf  Mate  of  things,  imagined  that  it  would  not  be 

'  This  online,  no  violent  wan  iu  motion,  broke  through  I 
ff ,  e\  t'rmn  'lie  <lf>rk  to  the  hold. 

Tliurv.l.  I.  vii.  p.  313— 518.    Plut.  in  Nic.  p.  537.    Diod. 
J41.  142. 
VuL.  1— 42 


proper  for  him  to  lose  time  ss  Nicias  had  done,  who 
having  spread  a  universal  U-rror  at  his  first  arrival, 
became  afterwards  the  object  of  conUmpt,  for  having 
wintered  in  Catana,  instead  of  going  directly  to  Sy- 
racuse; and  had  afterwards  given  G)  lippus  an  oppor 
•unity  of  throwing  troops  into  it.  He  flattered  himself 
with  the  hopes,  that  he  should  be  able  to  carry  the 
city  at  the  first  attack,  by  taking  advantage  of  the 
al.trm  which  the  news  of  his  arrival  -.voul.l  spread  in 
every  part  of  it,  and  by  that  means  should  immedi- 
ately put  an  end  to  the  war:  otherwise  he  intended 
to  raise  the  siege,  and  no  longer  harass  and  lessen  the 
troops  by  fighting  battles  never  decisive;  nor  quite 
exhaust  the  city  of  Athens,  by  employing  its  treasures 
in  needless  expenses. 

.Nicias,  terrified  by  this  bold  and  precipitate  resolu- 
tion of  Demosthenes,  conjured  him  not  to  be  so  hasty, 
but  to  take  time  to  weigh  things  deliberately,  that  he 
might  have  no  cause  to  repent  of  what  he  should  do. 
He  observed  to  him,  that  the  enemy  would  be  ruined 
by  delays;  that  their  provisions  as  well  as  money 
were  entirely  exhausted;  that  their  allies  were  going 
to  abandon  them;  that  they  must  soon  be  reduced  to 
such  extremity,  for  want  ol  provisions,  as  would  force 
them  to  surrender,  as  they  had  before  resolteit;  for 
there  were  certain  persons  in  Syracuse  who  held  a 
secret  correspondence  with  Nicias,  and  exhorted  him 
not  to  be  impatient,  because  the  Syracusans  were  tired 
with  the  war  and  with  Gylippus;  and  thai  should  the 
necessity  to  which  they  were  reduced  be  ever  so  little 
increased,  they  would  surrender  at  discretion. 

As  Nicias  did  not  explain  himself  clearly,  and  would 
not  declare  in  express  terms,  that  sure  and  certain 
advices  were  sent  him  of  whatever  was  transacted  in 
the  city,  his  remonstrances  were  considered  as  an 
effect  of  the  timidity  and  slowness  will,  which  he  had 
always  been  reproached.  "Such,"  said  they,  "are 
his  usual  protraction,  delays,  distrusts,  and  fearful 
precaution,  whereby  he  has  deadened  all  the  vivacilv 
and  extinguished  all  the  ardour  of  the  troops,  in  not 
marching  them  immediately  against  the  enemy;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  by  deferring  to  attack  them,  till  his 
own  forces  were  weakened  and  despised."  This 
made  the  rest  of  the  generals  and  all  the  officers  come 
over  to  Demostlienes's  opinion,  and  Nicias  himself 
was  at  last  forced  to  acquiesce  with  it. 

Demosthenes,  after  having  attacked  to  no  purpose 
the  wall  which  cut  the  contravallation  of  the  besiegers, 
confined  himself  to  the  attack  of  Epipolte,  from  a  sup- 
position that  should  he  once  be  master  of  it,  the  wall 
would  be  quite  undefended.  He  therefore  took  pro- 
visions for  five  days,  with  workmen,  implements,  and 
every  thing  necessary  for  him  to  defend  that  post 
after  he  should  possess  himself  of  it.  As  there  was 
no  going  up  to  it  in  the  day-time  undiscovered,  he 
marched  thither  in  the  night  with  all  his  forces,  fol- 
lo.ved  by  Kurymedon  and  Menander;  Nicias  staving 
behind  to  guard  the  camp.  They  went  up  by  the  way 
of  F.urvelus,  as  before,  unperceived  by  the  sentinels; 
attack  the  first  entrenchment,  and  storm  it,  after  kill- 
ins:  part  of  those  who  defended  it.  Demosthenes,  not 
satisfied  with  this  advantage,  to  prevent  the  ardour 
of  his  soldiers  from  cooling,  and  not  delay  the  execu- 
tion of  his  designs,  marches  forward.  During  this  in- 
terval, the  forces  of  the  city,  sustained  by  Ciylippus, 
march  under  arms  out  of  the  intrenchments.  Being 
seiied  with  astonishment,  which  the  darkness  of  the 
night  increased,  they  were  immediately  repulsed  and 
put  to  fligrft.  But  as  the  Athenians  advanced  in  dis- 
order, to  force  whatever  might  resi«t  their  arms,  lest 
the  enemy  might  rally  again,  should  time  be  allowed 
them  to  breathe  ami  recover  from  their  surprise,  they 
are  stopped  on  a  sudden  by  the  Boeotians,  who  make 
a  vigorous  stand,  and  marching  against  the  Athenians 
with  their  pikes  presented,  repulse  them  uitn  great 
shouts,  and  make  a  dreadful  slaughter.  This  spreads 
a  universal  terror  through  the  rest  of  the  crmy 
Those  who  fled  either  force  along  such  a*  were  ad- 
vancing to  their  assistance,  or  else,  mistaking-  them 
for  enemies,  turn  their  arms  against  them.  They  now 
were  all  mixed  indiscriminately,  it  being-  im|>ossihle  to 
discriminate  objects  in  the  horrors  of  the  night,  which 
wa*  not  to  gloomy  as  entirely  to  make  thtiu  impe.r- 
2  c  2 


330 


HISTORY"  OF  THE 


ceptibie,  nor  yet  light  enough  to  distinguish  those 
which  were  seen.  The  Athenians  sought  for  one 
another  to  iu  purpose;  and  from  their  often  asking 
the  word,  by  which  only  they  were  able  to  know  one 
another,  a  strange  confusion  of  sounds  was  heard; 
which  occasioned  no  little  disorder;  not  to  mention 
that  they,  by  this  means,  divulged  the  word  to  the 
enemy,  and  could  not  learn  theirs;  because,  by  their 
being  together  and  in  a  body,  they  had  no  occasion  to 
repeat  it.  In  the  mean  time,  those  who  were  pursued, 
threw  themselves  from  the  top  of  the  rocks,  and  many 
were  dashed  to  pieces  by  the  fall;  and  as  most  of 
those  who  had  escaped  straggled  from  one  another  up 
and  down  the  fields  and  woods,  they  were  cut  to  pieces 
the  next  day  by  the  enemy's  horse,  who  pursued  them. 
Two  thousand  Athenians  were  slain  in  this  engage- 
ment, and  a  great  number  of  arms  were  taken;  those 
who  lied  having  thrown  them  away,  that  they  might 
be  the  better  able  to  escape  over  the  precipices. 

SECTION  XIV.— THE  CONSTERNATION  WITH 
WHICH  THE  ATHENIANS  ARE  SEIXED.  THEY 
AGAIN  HAZARD  A  SEA-FIGHT,  AND  ARE  DEFEAT- 
ED. THEY  RESOLVE  TO  RETIRE  BY  LAND.  BE- 
ING CLOSE  PURSUED  BY  THE  SYRACUSANS,  THEY 
SURRENDER.  NICIAS  AND  DEMOSTHENES  ARE 
SENTENCED  TO  DIE,  AND  EXECUTED.  THE  EF- 
FECT WHICH  THE  NEWS  OF  THE  DEFEAT  OF 
THE  ARMY  PRODUCES  IN  ATHENS. 

THE  Athenian  generals,1  after  sustaining  so  great 
a  loss,  were  greatly  perplexed,  and  did  not  .know  how 
to  act  in  the  present  discouragement  and  despair  of 
the  troops,  who  died  daily,  either  by  the  diseases  of 
the  autumn,  or  by  the  bad  air  of  the  fens  near  which 
they  were  encamped.  Demosthenes  was  of  opinion, 
that  it  would  be  proper  for  them  to  leave  the  coun- 
try immediately,  since  they  had  been  so  unsuccessful 
in  so  important  an  enterprise;  especially  as  the  sea- 
Eon  was  not  too  far  advanced  for  sailing:  and  that 
they  had  ships  enough  to  force  a  passage,  in  case  the 
enemy  should  dispute  it  with  them.  He  declared,  that 
it  would  be  of  much  greater  advantage  to  oblige  the 
enemy  to  raise  their  blockade  of  Athens,  than  for 
them  to  continue  that  of  Syracuse,  by  whicn  they  ex- 
hausted themselves  to  no  purpose;  that  he  was  cer- 
tain they  would  not  be  reinforced  by  a  new  army; 
and  that  they  coulJ  not  hope  to  overcome  the  enemy 
with  the  weak  one  under  their  command. 

Nicias  was  sensible  that  the  arguments  his  col- 
league used  were  very  just,  and  he  himself  was  of  his 
opinion:  but  at  the  same  time  he  was  afraid,  lest  so 
public  a  confession  of  the  weak  condition  to  which 
they  were  reduced,  and  their  resolution  to  leave  Sicily 
l^the  report  of  which  would  certainly  reach  the  ene- 
my,) should  complete  the  ruin  of  their  affairs,  and 
perhaps  make  them  unable  to  execute  their  resolution 
when  they  should  attempt  it.  Besides,  they  had  some 
little  hopes  left  that  the  besieged,  being  themselves 
reduced  to  great  extremity,  by  their  absolute  want  of 
provisions  and  money,  would  Bt  last  be  inclined  to 
surrender  upon  honourable  terms.  Thu«,  although  he 
was  in  reality  uncertain  and  wavering,  he  insinuated, 
that  he  would  not  quit  Sicily  till  the  Athenians  should 
have  first  sent  orders  for  that  pur|)ose;  as  he  well 
knew  that  otherwise  they  would  be  highly  displeased: 
that  as  those  who  were  "to  judge  them  had  not  been 
eye-witnesses  of  the  state  of  things,  they  would  be 
of  a  different  opinion;  and,  at  the  instigation  of  some 
orator,  certainly  condemn  them:  that  molt  of  those 
men,  who  now  exclaimed  with  the  greatest  vehemence 
against  the  difficulties  they  laboured  under,  would 
then  change  theii  note,  nnd  accuse  them  of  having 
been  bribed  to  raise  the  siege:  that  knowing  so  well 
as  he  did  the  disposition  and  character  of  the  Athe- 
nian?, he  chose  to  d;e  gloriously  by  the  enemy's 
sword,  rather  than  be  ignominiously  condemned  by 
his  fellow-citizen!. 

These  reasons,  though  they  appeared  very  strong, 
were  not  yet  able  to  convince  Demosthenes;  and  It 
was  still  his  opinion,  that  the  only  good  choice  thev 

i  Thucvd.  1  vii   •).  518—520. 

Oi<.J.  p.  liil. 


Pint,  in  Nin.  p.  588— 542. 


I  could  make  would  be  to  retire.  However,  as  he  hatf 
been  unsuccessful  in  his  focmer  project,  he  was  afraid 
of  insisting  upon  this;  and  he  was  the  more  inclined 
to  accede  to  that  of  iVicias,  from  imagining,  witV 
many  others,  that  this  general  might  have  some  secret 
resource,  as  he  was  so  firmly  resolved  to  stay. 

G)  lippus,*  alter  having  made  the  tour  of  Sicily,  ha<? 
brought  a  great  body  of  troops  with  him.  This  new 
reinforcement  terrified  the  Athenians  exceedingly 
whose  army  diminished  daily  by  sickness;  and  thej 
now  began  to  repent  their  not  having  raised  the  siege 
especially  as  the  besieged  were  preparing  to  attack 
them  both  by  sea  and  land.  Besides,  Pvicias  no  longer 
opposed  this  resolution,  and  only  desired  to  have  it 
kept  secret.  Orders  were  therefore  given,  as  pri- 
vately as  possible,  for  the  tloet  to  prepare  for  setting 
sail  with  the  utmost  expedition. 

When  all  things  were  ready ,  the  moment  they  were 
going  to  set  sail  (wholly  unsuspected  by  the  enemy, 
who  were  far  from  surmising  they  would  leave  Sicily 
so  soon,)  the  moon  was  suddenly  eclipsed  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  night,  and  lost  all  its  splendour;  which  ter- 
rified Nicias  and  the  whole  army,  who,  from  igno- 
rance and  superstition,  were  astonished  at  so  sudden 
a  change,  the  causes  of  which  they  did  not  know,  anl 
therefore  dreaded  the  consequences  of  it.  They  then 
consulted  the  soothsayers;  who,  being  equally  unac- 
quainted with  the  reasons  of  this  phenomenon,  only 
augmented  their  consternation.  It  was  the  custom, 
alter  such  accidents  had  happened,  to  suspend  their 
enterprise  hut  for  three  days.  The  soothsayers  pro- 
nounced, that  he  must  not  set  sail  till  three  times  nine 
days  were  past  (these  are  Thucydides's  words,)  which 
doubtless  was  a  mysterious  number  in  the  opinion  of 
the  people.  IS'icia?,  scrupulous  to  a  fault,  and  full  of 
a  mistaken  veneration  for  these  blind  interpreters  of 
the  will  of  the  gods,  declared  that  he  would  wait  a 
whole  revolution  of  the  moon,  and  not  return  till  the 
same  day  of  the  next  month;  as  if  he  had  not  seen 
the  planet  very  clearly  the  instant  it  had  (merged 
from  that  part  which  was  darkened  by  the  interposi 
tion  of  the  earth's  body. 

But  he  was  not  allowed  time  for  this.  The  newi 
of  the  intended  departure  of  the  Athenjans  being 
soon  spread  over  the  city,  a  resolution  was  taken  to 
attack  the  besiegers  both  by  sea  and  land.  The  Sy. 
racusans  began  the  first  day  by  attacking  the  in 
trenchmenls,  and  gained  a  slight  advantage  over  th« 
enemy.  On  the  morrow  they  made  a  second  attack; 
and  at  the  same  time  sailed,  with  seventy-six  galleys, 
against  eighty-six  of  the  Athenians.  Eurymedon, 
who  commanded  the  right  of  the  Athenian  fleet,  hav- 
ing spread  along  the  shore  to  surround  them,  this 
movement  proved  fatal  to  him;  for  as  he  was  detach- 
ed from  the  body  of  the  fleet,  the  Syracusans,  after 
forcing  the  centre,  attacked  him;  drove  him  vigor- 
ously into  the  gulf  called  Dascon,  and  there  defeated 
him  entirely.  Eurymedon  lost  his  life  in  the  engage- 
ment. They  afterwards  gave  chase  to  the  rest  of  the 
galle3's,  and  run  them  onshore.  Gylippus,  who  com- 
manded the  land  army,  seeing  the  Athenian  galleys 
were  forced  aground,  and  not  able  to  return  into  their 
staccado,  came  down  with  part  of  his  troops,  in  order 
to  charge  the  soldiers,  in  case  they  should  be  forced 
to  run  ashore;  and  to  give  his  friends  the  more  room 
to  tow  such  galleys  as  they  should  have  taken.  How- 
ever, he  wag  repulsed  by  the  Tyrrhenian-*,  who  were 
posted  on  that  side;  and  obliged  by  the  Athenians 
who  flew  to  sustain  them,  to  retire  jvith  some  loss  as 
far  as  the  marsh  called  Lysimelia,  which  lay  near  it. 
The  latter  saved  most  of  their  ships,  eighteen  except- 
ed,  which  were  taken  by  the  Syracusans,  and  their 
crews  cut  to  pieces  by  them.  Alter  this,  resolving  to 
burn  the  rest,  they  filled  an  old  vessel  with  combusti 
ble  materials;  and  having  set  fire  to  it,  they  drove  i« 
by  the  help  of  the  wind  against  the  Athenians,  who 
nevertheless  extinguished  the  fire  and  drove  oJ  the 
ship. 

Each  side  erected  trophies;  the  Syracusans  forth* 
defeat  of  Euryroedon,  and  the  advantage  they  had 


•  Thucyd.  I.  vii.  p.  521— 548.     Pint   in  Ni"  y.  53a 
L  xiii.  p.  148— 101. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


331 


rained  the  day  before;  and  the  Athenians,  for  their 
having  driven  [/art  of  the  enemy  into  the  marsh,  and 
put  the  other  part  to  flight.  But  the  minds  of  the  two 
nations  were  very  differently  disposed.  The  Syracu- 
sans, who  had  been  thrown  into  the  utmost  conster- 
nation at  the  arrival  of  Demosthenes  with  his  fleet, 
seeing  themselves  victorious  in  a  naval  engagement, 
resumed  fresh  hope,  and  assured  themselves  of  a 
Complete  victory  over  their  enemies.  The  Athenians, 
on  trie  contrary,  frustrated  of  their  only  resource,  and 
overcome  by  sea,  so  contrary  to  their  expectations,  en- 
tirely lost  courage,  and  had  no  thoughts  but  of  retiring. 

The  enemy,  to  deprive  them  ol  all  resource  and 
prevent  their  escaping,  shut  the  mouth  of  the  great 
harbour,  which  was  about  500  paces  wide,  with  gal- 
leys placed  across,  and  other  vessels  fixed  with  an- 
chors and  iron  chains,  and  at  the  same  time  made  the 
requisite  preparations  for  the  battle  in  case  they  should 
have  courage  to  engage  again.  When  the  Athenians 
saw  themselves  thus  hemmed  in,  the  generals  and 
principal  officers  assembled,  in  order  to  deliberate  on 
the  present  state  of  affairs.  They  were  in  absolute 
want  of  provisions,  which  was  owing  to  their  having 
forbidden  the  people  of  Catena  to  bring  any,  from  the 
hopes  they  entertained  of  their  being  able  to  retire; 
and  they  could  not  procure  any  from  other  places,  un- 
less they  were  masters  of  the  sea.  This  made  them 
resolve  to  venture  a  sea-fight.  With  this  view,  they 
determined  to  leave  their  old  camp  and  their  walls, 
which  extended  lo  the  temple  of  Hercules;  and  to 
entrench  themselves  on  the  shore,  near  their  ships,  in 
(he  smallest  compass  possible.  Their  design  was,  to 
leave  some  forces  in  that  place  to  guard  their  baggage 
and  the  sick;  and  to  fight  with  Ihe  rest  on  board  all 
the  ships  they  had  remaining.  They  intended  to  re- 
tire to  CaUma,  in  case  they  should  be  victorious; 
otherwise,  to  set  tire  to  their  ships,  and  to  march  by 
land  to  the  nearest  city  belonging  to  their  allies. 

This  resolution  being  taken,  Nicias  immediately 
filled  1 10  galleys  (the  others  having  lost  their  oars) 
with  the  flower  of  his  infantry;  and  drew  up  the  rest 
of  the  forces,  particularly  the  bowmen,  in  order  of 
battle  on  the  shore.  As  the  Athenians  dreaded  very- 
much  the  beaks  of  the  Syracusan  galleys,  Nicias  had 
provided  harping-irons  to  grapple  them,  in  order  to 
break  the  force  of  the  blow,  anil  to  come  immediately 
to  close  fight,  as  on  shore.  But  the  enemy  perceiving 
this,  covered  their  prows  and  upper  part  of  their  gal- 
leys with  leather,  to  prevent  their  being  so  easily  laid 
hold  of.  The  commanders  on  both  sides  had  em- 
ployed dl  their  rhetoric  to  animate  their  men;  and 
none  could  ever  have  prompted  them  from  stronger 
motives;  for  the  battle  which  was  going  to  be  fought, 
was  to  determine,  not  only  their  lives  and  liberties,  but 
also  the  fate  of  their  country. 

The  battle  was  very  obstinate  and  bloody.  The 
Athenians  being  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  port, 
easily  took  those  ships  which  defended  the  entrance 
of  it;  but  when  they  attempted  to  break  the  chain  of 
the  rest  to  widen  the  passage,  the  enemy  came  up 
from  all  (purlers.  As  near  200  galleys  came  rushing 
on  each  side,  towards  one  narrow  place,  there  must 

ecessarily  be  a  very  great  confusion;  and  the  vessels  I 
could  not  easily  advance  forward,  or  retire,  nor  turn  I 
about  to  renew  the  attack.  The  beaks  of  the  galleys, 
for  this  reason,  did  very  little  execution;  but  there 
were  very  furious  and  frequent  discharge*.  The 
Athenians  were  overwhelmed  with  a  shower  of  stones, 
which  always  did  execution  from  what  place  soever 
they  were  thrown;  whereas  they  defended  themselves 
only  by  shooting  darts  and  arrows,  which,  by  the  mo- 
tion of  the  ships  from  the  agitation  of  the  sea,  could 
not  be  well  aimed,  and  by  that  means  the  greatest 
part  of  them  did  little  execution.  Ari-ton  the  pilot 
had  given  the  Syracusans  this  counsel.  These  dis- 
charges being  over,  the  soldiers,  heavily  armed,  at- 
tempted to  enter  the  enemy's  ships  in  order  lo  fight 
hand  to  hand:  and  it  often  happened,  that  whilst 
they  were  climbing  up  one  side,  their  own  ships  were 
entered  on  the  other;  and  two  or  three  ships  would 
be  grappled  to  one,  which  occasioned  a  great  per- 
plexity and  confusion.  Farther,  the  noise  of  the  snips 
thai  dushed  one  against  the  other,  together  with  the 


different  cries  of  the  victors  and  vanquished,  prevent- 
ed the  orders  of  the  officers  from  being  heard.  '1  h« 
Athenians  wanted  to  force  a  passage,  whatever  might 
be  the  consequence,  to  secure  their  return  into  their 
own  country;  and  this  the  enemy  employed  their  ut- 
most efforts  to  prevent,  in  order  that  they  might  gain 
a  more  complete  and  more  glorious  victory.  The  two 
land  armies,  which  were  drawn  up  on  the  highest 
part  of  the  shore,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  who 
were  there,  ran  to  the  walls;  whilst  the  rest,  kneeling 
in  the  temples,  were  imploring  Heaven  to  give  suc- 
cess to  their  citizens:  all  these  saw  clearly,  because 
of  their  little  distance  from  the  fleets,  every  thing  that 
passed;  and  contemplated  the  battle  as  from  an  am- 
phitheatre, but  not  without  great  anxiety  and  terror. 
Attentive  to,  and  shuddering  at,  every  movement,  and 
the  several  changes  which  happened,  they  discovered 
the  interest  they  took  in  the  battle,  by  their  fears, 
their  hopes,  their  grief,  their  joy,  by  different  i  ries  and 
different  gestures;  stretching  out  their  hands,  some- 
times towards  the  combatants  to  animate  them,  and 
at  other  times  towards  heaven,  to  implore  the  succour 
and  protection  of  the  gods.  At  last,  the  Athenian 
fleet,  after  sustaining  a  long  battle  and  a  vigorous  re- 
sistance, was  put  to  flight  and  driven  against  the 
shore.  The  Syracusans,  who  were  spectators  of  this 
victory,  conveyed  to  the  whole  city,  by  a  universal 
shout,  the  news  of  this  victory.  The  victors,  now 
masters  of  the  sea,  and  sailing  with  a  favourable 
wind  towards  Syracuse,  erected  a  trophy:  whilst  the 
Athenians,  who  were  quite  dejected  and  overpower- 
ed, did  not  do  so  much  as  request  that  their  dead 
soldiers  might  be  delivered  to  them,  in  order  to  pay 
the  last  sad  duty  to  their  remains. 

There  now  remained  but  two  methods  for  them  to 
choose;  either  to  attempt  the  passage  a  second  time, 
for  which  they  had  ships  and  soldiers  sufficient,  or  to 
abandon  their  fleet  to  the  enemy,  and  retire  by  land. 
Demosthenes  proposed  the  former;  but  the  sailors,  in 
the  deepest  affliction,  refused  to  obey,  fully  persuaded 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  sustain  a 
second  engagement.  The  second  method  was  there- 
fore resolved  upon,  and  accordingly  they  prepared  to 
set  out  in  the  night,  to  conceal  the  march  of  their  army 
from  the  enemy. 

But  Hermocrates,  who  suspected  their  design,  was 
very  sensible  that  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance  not 
to  sutler  so  great  a  body  of  forces  to  escape;  sine* 
they  otherwise  might  fortify  themselves  in  some  cor- 
ner of  the  island,  and  renew  the  war.  The  Syracu- 
sans  were  at  that  time  in  the  midst  of  their  festivity 
a.nd  rejoicings;  and  thinking  of  nothing  but  how  they 
might  best  divert  themselves,  after  the  toils  they  had 
sustained  in  tight.  They  were  then  solemnizing  the 
festival  of  Hercules,  which  happened  on  that  very  day. 
To  desire  the  Syracusans  to  take  up  arms  again,  in 
order  to  pursue  the  enemy;  and  to  attempt  lo  draw 
them  from  their  diversions  either  by  force  or  persua- 
sion, would  have  been  to  no  purpose;  for  which  rea- 
son another  expedient  was  employed.  Hermocrales 
sent  out  a  few  horsemen,  who  were  to  pass  for  friends 
of  the  Athenians,  and  ordered  them  to  cry  aloud 
Tell  Nicias  not  lo  retire  till  day-light,  Jbr  the  Syra- 
cnsans  lie  in  ambush  Jbr  him,  and  hare  seized  on  tht 
passes.  This  false  advice  stopped  Nicias  at  once, 
and  he  did  not  even  set  out  the  ne\t  day,  in  order 
that  the  soldiers  might  have  more  time  to  prepare  for 
their  departure;  and  carry  oil  what  might  he  neces- 
sary for  their  subsistence,  and  abandon  the  rest. 

The  enemy  had  time  enough  for  seizing  the  ave 
nues.  The  next  morning  early  they  possessed  them 
selves  of  the  most  difficult  passes,  fortified  thos« 

C  laces  where  the  river  was  ford  able,  broke  down  the 
ridges,  and  spread  detachments  of  horse  up  and  down 
the  plain;  so  that  there  was  not  one  place  through 
which  the  Athenians  could  pass  without  fighting. 
They  set  out  upon  their  march  the  third  day  alter  the 
battle,  with  the  design  to  retire  to  Catana.  The  whole 
army  was  in  an  inexpressible  consternation,  at  the  sigh* 
of  the  dead  or  dying,  some  of  whom  were  left  exposeu 
to  wild  beasts,  and  the  rest  lo  the  cruelty  of  the  enemy. 
Those  who  were  sick  and  wounded  conjured  them 
with  tears  to  take  them  along  with  the  army,  and  held 


332 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


by  their  clothes  when  they  were  going;  or  else,  drag- 
ging themselves  after  them,  followed  them  a*  far  as 
their  strength  would  |>eriiiit;  and,  when  this  foiled, 
they  had  recourse  to  tears,  sighs,  imprecations;  and 
tending  up  towards  heaven  plaintive  and  dying 
groans  they  calltd  u|>on  the  gods  as  well  as  men  to 
avenge  their  ciuelty,  whilst  every  place  echoed  with 
lamentations. 

The  whole  army  was  in  as  deplorable  a  condition. 
All  in*  n  were  seized  with  the  deepest  melancholy. 
Thev  were  inwardlv  tortured  with  rage  and  anguish, 
when  thev  rt  presented  to  themselves  the  greatness 
from  which  they  were  fallen,  the  extreme  misery  to 
which  they  were  reduced,  and  the  still  greater  evils 
from  which  they  foresaw  it  would  be  impossible  for 
them  to  esca|>e.  They  could  not  betfr  the  comparison, 
for  ever  present  in  their  thoughts,  of  the  triumphant 
state  in  which  they  had  left  Athens,  in  the  midst  of 
the  good  wishes  and  acclamations  ot  the  people;  with 
the  ignominy  of  their  retreat,  aggravated  by  the  cries 
and  imprecations  of  their  relations  and  fellow-citizens. 

But  the  most  melancholy  part  of  the  spectacle,  and 
that  which  most  deserved  compassion,  was  Aicias. 
Dejected  and  worn  out  by  a  tedious  illness;  deprived 
of  the  most  necessary  things,  at  a  time  when  his 
age  and  infirmities  required  them  most:  pierced,  not 
only  with  his  private  grief,  but  still  more  with  that  of 
others,  all  which  preyed  upon  his  heart;  this  great 
man,  superior  to  all  his  misfortunes,  thought  of  nothing 
but  how  he  might  best  comlort  his  soldiers,  and  revive 
their  courage.  He  r.m  up  and  down  in  all  places, 
crying  aloud,  that  matters  were  not  yet  desperate,  and 
that  other  armies  had  escaped  from  greater  dangers; 
that  they  ought  not  to  accuse  themselves,  or  grieve 
immoderately,  for  misfortunes  which  they  had  not 
occasioned;  that  if  thev  had  offended  some  god,  his 
vengeance  must  be  satiated  by  this  time;  that  for- 
tune, after  having  so  long  favoured  the  enemy,  would 
at  last  be  tired  ofpersecuting  them;  that  their  bravery 
and  their  numbers  made  them  still  formidable  (being 
still  near  40,000  strong;)  that  no  city  in  Sicily  would 
be  able  to  withstand  them,  nor  prevent  their  settling 
wherever  they  might  think  proper;  that  they  had  no 
more  to  do  but  to  take  care  severally  of  themselves, 
and  march  in  good  order;  that  by  a  prudent  nnd  good 
retreat,  which  was  now  become  their  only  resource, 
they  would  not  only  save  themselves,  but  also  their 
country,  and  enable  it  to  recover  its  former  grandeur. 

The  army  marched  in  two  bodies,  both  drawn  up 
in  the  form  of  a  phalanx;  the  first  being  commanded 
by  IVicias.  and  the  second  by  Demosthenes,  with  the 
bsgifaue  in  the  centre.  Being  come  to  the  river  Ana- 
pis,  they  forced  the  passage,  and  afterwards  were  at- 
tacked by  all  the  enemy's  cavalrv,  as  well  a*  archers, 
who  discharged  perpetually  upon  them.  Thev  were 
annoyed  in  this  manner  during  several  (lavs'  march: 
every  one  of  the  passes  being  guarded,  and  the  Athe- 
nians being  obliged  to  dispute  every  inch  of  their  way. 
The  enemy  were  unwilling  to  hazard  a  battle  against 
an  army  which  despair  alone  might  render  invincible; 
and  the  instant  the  Athenians  presented  the  Svracu- 
sans  battle,  the  latter  retired;  but  whenever  the  for- 
mer pro(ee.ied  on  their  march,  they  advanced  and 
eharjft-d  them  in  their  retreat. 

Demosthenes  and  Ni.'ias,  seeing  the  miserable  con- 
diti jn  to  which  the  troops  were  reduced,  being  in  ex- 
treme want  of  provisions,  and  great  number*  of  them 
wounded,  judged  it  advisable  to  retire  towards  the 
sea,  by  «  quite  contrary  way  to  that  in  which  they 
then  marched,  and  to  make  directly  for  Camarina  and 
Gela,  instead  of  proceeding  to  Ca!ana,  as  they  first 
intended.  They  set  out  in  the  night,  after  lighting  a 
great  number  of*  fires.  The  retreat  was  made  in  <rreat 
confusion  and  disorder,  as  generally  happens  to  great 
armies  during  the  gloomy  horrors  of  trie  night,  es- 
pecially when  the  enemy  is  not  fur  otT.  However, 
the  van-guard,  commanded  by  Nicia«,  went  forward 
in  pood  order:  but  above  hall  the  rear-guard,  with 
I)<  inn-thenes  at  their  head,  quitted  the  main  body, 
and  lost  their  way.  On  the  next  day  the  S\rncusan"«. 
who,  on  the  report  of  their  retreat,  hnd  marched  with 
extraordinary  diligence, came  up  with  him  about  noon; 
and  having  surrounded  him  with  their  horse,  they 


drove  him  into  a  narrow  place  enclosed  with  a  wall 
where  his  soldiers  fought  like  lions.  Perceiving,  at  th« 
close  of  the  day,  that  they  were  oppressed  with  fatigue 
and  covered  with  wounds,  they  gave  the  Ulanclen 
leave  to  retire, which  some  of  them  accepted;  and  af- 
Urwards  spared  the  lives  of  the  rest,  who  surrendered 
at  discretion  with  Demosthenes,  alter  having  stipulat- 
ed that  they  should  not  be  put  to  death,  nor  st-ntt  need 
to  perpetual  imprisonment.  About  6000  soldiers  sur- 
rendered on  these  conditions. 

IS'icias  arrived  on  the  same  C""iing  at  the  river  Eri- 
neus,  and  passing  it,  encamped  G.I  a  mountain,  'vhere 
the  en* my  came  up  with  him  the  next  day,  and  sum- 
moned him  to  surrender  at  discretion,  as  Demosthenej 
had  done.  IS'icias  could  not  persuade  hims>  If  at  first 
that  what  they  told  him  concerning  that  general  wa» 
true,  and  therefore  desired  leave  to  send  some  horse  fof 
information.  Upon  their  returning  with  the  news  tha* 
Demosthenes  had  really  surrendered  in  that  man- 
ner, Nicias  offered  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  war, 
upon  condition  that  they  would  permit  him  to  leave 
the  country  with  his  forces,  and  to  give  as  many  Athe- 
nians for  hostages  as  he  should  be  obliged  to  pay 
talents.  But  the  enemy  rejected  this  proposal  with 
disdain  and  insolence,  and  renewed  the  attack.  Ni- 
cias,  though  in  absolute  want  of  all  things,  neverthe 
less  sustained  the  charge  the  w  hole  night,  and  marched 
towards  the  river  Asinarus.  When  they  were  got  to 
the  banks  of  it,  the  Svracnsans  coming  up  with  tin  m, 
drove  most  of  them  into  the  stream;  the  rest  having 
already  voluntarily  plunged  into  it  to  quench  their 
thirst.  Here  the  greatest  and  most  bloody  carnage 
was  made,  the  poor  wretches  being  butchered  without 
the  least  pity  as  they  were  drinking.  IVicias  finding 
all  lost,  and  unable  to  bear  this  dismal  spectacle, 
surrendered  at  discretion;  upon  condition  that  G\  lip- 
pus  should  discontinue  the  fight, and  spare  the  rest  of 
his  army.  A  great  number  were  killed,  and  more 
taken  prisoners,  so  that  all  Sicily  was  filled  w'th  them 
The  Athenians  seem  to  have  been  displeased  with 
their  general,1  for  surrendering  in  this  manner  at  dis- 
cretion; and  for  this  reason  his  name  was  omitted  in 
a  publ"ic  monument,  on  which  were  engraved  the 
nanus  of  those  commanders  who  had  lost  their  livei 
in  fighting  for  their  country. 

The  victor*  adorned,  with  the  arms  taken  from  the 
prisoners,  the  finest  and  largest  trees  on  the  banks  of 
the  rivi-r,  and  made  a  kind  of  trophies  of  those  trees; 
and  crowning  themselves  with  chaplets  of  flowers, 
dressing  their  horses  in  the  richest  caparisons,  and 
cropping  the  manes  of  those  of  their  enemies,  thej 
entered  triumphantly  into  Syracuse,  after  having  hap- 
pily terminated  the  most  considerable  war  in  which 
they  had  ever  been  engaged  with  the  Greeks;  and 
won.  by  their  strength  and  valour,  a  most  signal  and 
complete  victory.  The  next  day  a  council  was  held, 
to  deliberate  on  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  pri- 
soners. Diodes,  one  of  the  lenders  of  the  greatest 
authority  among  the  people,  proposed,  that  nil  the 
Athenians  who  were  born  of  free  parents,  and  all 
such  Sicilians  as  had  joined  with  them,  should  be  im- 
prisoned in  the  quarries,  and  only  two  measures  of 
Hour,  anil  one  of  water,  given  them  daily;  that  the 
slaves  and  all  the  allies  should  be  publicly  sold;  and 
that  the  two  Athenian  generals  should  be  first  scour- 
ged with  rods  and  afterwards  put  to  death. 

This  last  article  was  exceedingly  disliked  bv  *t] 
wise  and  moderate  Syraru«ans.*  HermocraU  «,  who 
was  very  famous  for  his  probity  and  justice,  attempted 
to  make  some  remonstrances  to  the  people,  but  they 
would  not  hear  him;  and  the  shouts  which  echoed  on 
«ll  sides,  prevented  him  from  continuing  his  speech. 
At  that  instanl,  an  ancient  man,3  venerable  tor  hii 
age  and  gravity,  who  in  this  war  bad  lost  two  soni, 
the  only  heirs  to  his  name  nnd  estate,  made  hi*  ser- 
vants carry  him  to  the  tribunal,  and  the  instant  he 
appeared  a  profound  silence  ensued.  "You  here  be- 
hold," says  he,  "an  unfortunate  father,  who  has  felt 
more  thnn  any  other  Syracusan  the  fatal  effects  of 
this  war,  bv  the  death  of  two  sons,  who  formed  all  th« 


i  Pau.ean.  I.  i.  p.  56. 
•  Niculaui. 


L  jriii.p.  14'J— 1P1 


AXD  GRECIANS. 


333 


consolation,  and  were  the  only  supports,  of  my  old  ' 
•ge.  1  ca.mol  indeed  forbear  admiring  (heir  coura;; 
and  felicity.  In  sacrificing  to  their  country'*  welfare, 
life  which  they  would  one  day  have  been  deprived  of 
by  lite  common  course  of  nature:  but  then  I  not 
but  be  strongly  affected  with  the  cruel  wound  which  '• 
their  death  has  made  in  my  heart;  nor  forbear  hal'..,^ 
and  detesting  the  Athenians,  the  author-  of  this  un- 
happy war,  as  the  murderers  of  my  children.  But, 
however,  I  cannot  conceal  one  circumstance,  which 
is,  that  1  am  less  sensible  to  my  private  affliction,  than 
to  the  honour  of  my  country,  and  I  see  it  ready  to  ex- 
pose itself  to  eternal  infamy,  by  the  barbarous  advice 
which  is  now  given  you.  The  Athenian;)  indeed  merit 
the  worst  treatment,  and  every  kind  of  punishment 
that  can  be  innVted  on  them,  for  so  unjustly  declaring 
war  against  us;  but  have  not  the  gods,  the  avengers 
of  Cfi.nes,  punished  them  and  revenged  us  sutlicient- 
ly?  When  their  generals  laid  down  their  arms  and 
surrendered,  did  they  not  do  this  in  the  hopes  of 
having  their  lives  spared?  And  if  we  put  them  to 
death,  will  it  be  possible  for  us  to  avoid  the  just  re- 
proach, of  our  having  violated  the  law  of  nations, 
and  dishonoured  our  victory  by  the  most  barbarous 
cruelly?  What!  will  you  suffer  your  glory  to  be  thus 
sullied  in  the  face  of  the  whole  world;  and  have  it 
said,  that  a  nation,  who  first  dedicated  a  temple  in 
their  city  to  Clemency,  found  not  any  in  yours? 
Surely  victories  and  triumphs  do  not  give  immortal 
glory  to  a  city;  but  the  exercising  mercy  towards  a 
vanquished  enemy,  the  using  moderation  in  the  great- 
:st  prosperity,  and  fearing  to  offend  the  gods  by  a 
laughty  and  insolent  pride.  You  doubtless  have  not 


ha 


forgotten  that  this  Nicias,  whose  fate  you  are  going  to 
pronounce,  was  the  very  man  who  pleaded  your  cause 
in  the  assembly  of  the  Athenians;  and  employed  all 
his  credit,  and  the  whole  power  of  his  eloquence,  to 
dissuade  his  country  from  embarking  in  this  war 
Should  you  therefore  pronounce  sentence  of  death  on 
this  worthy  general,  would  it  be  a  Just  reward  for  the 
teal  he  showed  for  your  interests?  With  regard  to 
myself,  death  would  be  less  grievous  to  me  than  the 
sight  of  so  horrid  an  injustice,  committed  by  my  coun- 
trymen and  fellow-citizens." 

The  people  seemed  moved  to  compassion  at  this 
speech,  especially  as,  when  this  venerable  old  man 
first  ascended  the  tribunal,  they  expected  to  hear  him 
cry  aloud  for  vengeance  on  those  who  had  brought  all 
his  calamities  upon  him,  instead  of  suing  for  their  par- 
don. But  the  enemies  of  the  Athenians  having  ex- 
patiated, with  vehemence,  on  the  unheard-of  cruelties 
which  their  republic  had  exercised  on  several  cities 
belonging  to  their  enemies,  and  even  to  their  ancient 
allies:  the  inveteracy  which  their  commanders  had 
shown  against  Syracuse,  and  the  evils  they  would 
have  made  it  suffer,  had  thejr  been  victorious;  the 
afflictions  and  groans  of  infinite  numbers  of  Syracu- 
sans,  who  bewailed  the  death  of  their  children  and 
Dear  relations,  whose  mants  could  be  appeased  no 
other  way  than  by  the  blood  of  their  murderers;  on 
these  representations,  the  people  returned  to  their 
sanguinary  resolution,  and  followed  Diodes'*  advice 
in  <  very  respect.  Gylippns  used  his  utmost  endea- 
vours, but  in  vain,  to  have  Nicias  and  Demosthenes 
given  up  to  him  (especially  as  he  had  taken  them.)  in 
order  to  carry  them  to  Lacedaemon.  But  his  demand 
was  rejected  with  a  hfeughty  scorn,  and  the  two  gene- 
rals weie  put  to  death. 

All  wise  and  moderate  men  could  not  forbear  shed- 
ding tears  at  the  tragical  fate  of  these  two  illustrious 
personages;  and  particularly  for  Nicias,  who.  of  all 
men  of  his  time,  seemed  least  to  merit  so  ignominious 
and  untimely  an  end.  When  people  recollected  the 
speeches  and  remonstrances  he  had  made  to  prevent 
this  war;  and,  on  the  other  side,  when  they  consider- 
ed how  high  a  regard  he  had  always  retained  for  things 
relating  to  religion;  the  greatest  part  of  them  were 
tempted  to  exclaim  against  Providence,  when  they  saw 
•  man,  who  had  ever  shown  the  highest  reverence  for 
the  gods,  and  had  always  exerted  himself  to  the  ut- 
most for  their  honour  and  worship,  so  ill  rewarded 
by  them,  and  meeting  with  no  better  fate  than  the 
•lost  abandoi  rd  wretches.  But  it  is  no  wonder  that 


the  calamities  of  good  men  should      spire  lh«  heath- 
ns  with  such  thoughts,  and  make  tin  m  murmur  and 
despond;  since  they  did  not  know  the  holiness  ol  the 
Divine  Being,  nor  the  corruption  of  human  nature. 

The  prisoners  were  shut  up  in  the  qumiies  (Iht 
public  prisons  </  -S^,.  icvt>e;^  wh^  ,  crowded  one 
.j-jn  the  other,  they  suffered  mcr«.~.Jle  torments  for 
eight  months.  Here  they  v  for  ever  exposed  to 
the  inclemencies  of  the  \. Bather,  »^.-hed  in  the  day- 
time by  the  burning  rays  ol  the  tun,  or  frozen  in  the 
night  by  the  colds  of  autumn:  poisoned  by  the  stench 
of  their  own  excrements,  by  the  carcases  of  those  who 
died  of  their  wounds  and  of  sickness;  in  fine.  won. 
out  by  hunger  and  thirst:  for  the  daily  allowance  to 
each  was  but  a  small  measure  of  wad  r,  and  two  of 
meal.  Those  who  were  taken  out  of  this  plare  twc 
months  after,  in  order  to  be  sold  as  slaves  (many  o* 
whom  were  citizens  who  had  concealed  their  rom'i 
tion,)  found  a  less  rigorous  fate.  Their  wisdom,  their 
patience,  and  a  certain  air  of  probity  and  motlestv, 
were  of  great  advantage  to  them;  for  they  were  either 
soon  restored  to  their  liberty,  or  met  with  the  kindest 
and  most  gcnero-  treatment  from  their  masters. 
Several  of  them  even  owed  the  good  usage  they  met 
with  to  Euripides,  the  finest  scenes  of  whose  tragedies 
they  repeated  to  the  Sicilians,  who  were  extremely 
fond  of  them;  so  that  when  they  returned  to  their 
own  country,  they  went  and  saluted  that  poet  as  their 
deliverer;  a'nd  informed  him  of  the  admirable  effect 
wrought  in  their  favour  by  his  verses. 

The  news  of  the  defeat  being  carried  to  Athens,1 
the  citizens  would  not  believe  it  at  first;  and  were  so 
far  from  giving  credit  to  it,  that  they  sentenced  that 
man  to  death  who  had  first  published  it.  Bui  when  it 
was  confirmed,  all  the  Athenians  were  seized  with 
the  utmost  consternation;  and,  as  if  themselves  had 
not  decreed  the  war,  they  vented  their  rage  and  re- 
sentment against  the  orators  who  had  promoted  the 
enterprise,  as  well  as  against  the  soothsayers,  who, 
by  their  orac'es  of  fictitious  prodigies,  had  flattered 
them  with  the  hopes  of  success.  They  had  never  been 
reduced  to  so  deplorable  a  condition  as  at  present, 
having  neither  horse,  foot,  money,  gal  leys,  nor  marin- 
ers; in  a  word,  they  were  in  the  deepest  despair,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  that  the  enemy,  elate  wi'h  so 
great  a  victory,  and  strengthened  by  the  revolt  of  the 
allies,  would  come  anil  invade  Athens  both  by  sea  and 
land,  with  all  the  forces  of  Peloponnesus.  Cicero  had 
reason  to  observe,'  speaking  of  the  battles  in  the  har- 
bour of  Syracuse,  that  it  was  there  that  the  troops  of 
Athens, as  well  as  theirgalleys,  were  ruined  and  sunk; 
and  that,  in  this  harbour,  the  power  and  glory  of  the 
Athenians  were  miserably  shipwrecked. 

The  Athenians,  however,  did  not  suffer  themselves 
to  be  wholly  dejected,  and  resumed  courage.  They 
now  resolved  to  raise  money  on  all  sides,  and  to  im 
port  timber  for  building  of  ships,  in  order  to  awe  the 
allies,  and  particularly  the  inhabitants  of  the  island  of 
Kubira.  They  retrenched  all  superfluous  expenses,  and 
established  a  new  council  of  ancient  men,  who  were 
to  weigh  and  examine  all  affairs  before  they  should  be 
proposed  to  the  people.  In  fine  they  omitted  nothing 
which  might  be  of  service  in  the  present  conjuncture; 
the  alarm  in  which  they  were,  and  their  common  dan- 
ger, obliging  every  individual  to  be  attentive  to  the 
necessities  of  the  state,  and  docile  to  all  advice  that 
might  promote  its  interests. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SECTION  I.— CONSEQUENCES  OF  THE  DEFEAT  OF 
THE  ATHENIANS  IN  SICILY.  REVOLT  OF  TH« 
ALLIES.  ALCI1IIADES  GROWS  INTO  GREAT  POWEH 
WITH  TISSAPHERNE8. 

Nineteenth  and  twentieth  years  of  the  Jfrur. 
THE  defeat  of  the  Athenians' be-  ,,    ..  «?"Q1 

fore  Syracuse  was  the  cause  of  great       .    t   3   C   413° 
movements  throughout  all  Greece. 

«  Thueyd.  I.  viii  p.  551—553. Plut.  de  Gnrrulit.  p.  509. 

•  Hie  primom  one§  illius  eivitatid  »icts?.  comminute,  de- 
premcqne  »unt :  in  hoc  portu  Alhcniensium,  nol'iliiati*  in 
pcrii,  gloria  naot'ragium  facium  exiotimalur  Cie.  u  Ftrr 
7.  ».97.  •  TbBcjrd.  tin.  p  553 


334 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


The  stateo,  wno  had  not  yet  joined  either  side,  and 
waited  to  be  determined  bv  the  event,  reso  ved  to  de- 
clare against  them.  The  allies  of  the  Lace«  emonians 
believed,  that  the  time  was  come  to  dclivei  them  for 
ever  from  the  expense?  of  a  war  which  lay  very  heavy 
upon  them,  bv  the  speedy  and  final  ruin  of  Athens. 
Those  of  the  "Athenians,  who  followed  them  only  out 
of  constraint,  seeing  no  appearance  of  any  future  re- 
iource  for  that  republic,  after  the  dreadful  blow  it  had 
received,  thought  it  best  to  take  advantage  of  so  fa- 
vourable a  conjuncture  for  throwing  off  the  yoke  of 
dependence,  and  resuming  their  liberty.  Dispositions 
of  tlii.i  kind  inspired  che  I«cedtetnoniana  with  great 
views,  which  were  supported  bv  the  hopes  they  had 
conceived,  that  (heir  Sicilian  aflies  would  join  them 
in  the  spring  with  a  naval  army,  augmented  by  the 
ruin  of  the  Athenian  fleet. 

In  fact,1  the  people  of  Euboea,  Chio,  and  Lesbos, 
with  several  others,  gave  the  Lacedaemonians  to  un- 
derstand, that  they  were  ready  to  quit  the  party  of  the 
Athenians  if  they  would  take  them  under  their  pro- 
tection. At  the  same  time  came  deputies  fromTissa- 
phernes  and  Pharnabazus.  The  first  was  governor  of 
Lydia  and  Ionia,  the  other  of  the  Hellespont.  Those 
viceroys  of  Darius  wanted  neither  application  nor  zeal 
for  the  interest  of  their  master.  Tissaphernes,  pro- 
mising to  furnish  the  Lacedaemonians,  with  all  the 
necessary  expenses  for  their  troops,  pressed  them  to 
arm  directly,  and  to  join  him;  because  the  Athenian 
fleet  prevented  him  from  levying  the  usual  contribu- 
tions in  his  province;  and  had  put  it  out  of  his  power 
to  remit  those  of  the  preceding  vears  to  the  king.  He 
hoped  besides  with  that  powerful  aid  to  get  into  his 
hands  with  more  ease  a  certain  nobleman  who  had  re- 
bolted  in  Caria,  and  whom  he  had  the  king's  orders  to 
send  him  dead  or  alive.  This  was  Amorges,  a  bastard 
of  Pissuthnes.  Pharnabazus  at  the  same  time  de- 
manded ships  to  draw  off  the  cities  of  the  Hellespont 
from  their  subjection  to  the  Athenians;  who  prevented 
him  also  from  levying  the  tributes  of  his  government. 

The  Lacedaemonians  thought  it  proper  to  begin  by 
satisfy  ing  Tissaphernes;  and  the  influence  of  Alcibi- 
ades  contributed  very  much  to  the  taking  that  reso- 
lution. He  embarked  with  Chalcidaeus  for  Chio, 
whii.h  took  up  arm«  upon  their  arrival,  and  declared 
for  the  Lacedaemonians.  Upon  the  news  of  this  re- 
volt, the  Athenians  resolved  to  take  the  1000  talents 
out  of  the  treasury,*  which  had  been  deposited  there 
from  the  beginning  of  the  war,  after  having  repealed 
the  decree  which  prohibited  it.  Miletus  also  revolt- 
ed soon  after.  Tissaphernes.  having  joined  his  troops 
with  those  of  Sparta,  attacked  and  took  the  city  of 
lasus,  in  which  Amorges  had  shut  himself  up,' who 
was  taken  alive  and  sent  into  Persia.  That  governor 
gave  a  month's  pay  to  the  whole  army,  at  a  drachma, 
or  ten-pence,  a  day  to  each  soldier,  observing  that  he 
had  orders  to  give  them  onjy  half  that  sum  for  the 
future. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Chalcidaeus  marie  a  treaty 
with  Tissaphernes  in  the  name  of  the  Lacedsemoni- 
ans,4  of  which  one  of  the  principal  articles  was,  that 
all  the  country  which  had  been  subject  to  the  king  or 
his  predecessors  should  remain  in  hiu  hands.  It  was 
renewed  some  time  after  by  Theramanes.  another  ge- 
neral of  the  Lacedaemonian*,  with  some  small  altera- 
tions. But  when  this  treaty  came  to  be  examined  at 
Sparta,  it  was  found,  that  too  gre»>t  concessions  had 
been  made  to  the  king  of  Persia,  in  giving  up  all  the 
places  held  by  himself  or  his  ancestors,  as  this  was  to 
make  him  master  of  the  greatest  part  of  Greece,  of 
Thessaly,  Locris,  and  the  whole  country  as  far  a« 
Boeotia,  without  mentioning  the  islands;  from  whence 
the  Lacedaemonians  would  appear  rather  to  have  en- 
slaved Greece,  than  re-established  its  liberty.  It  was 
therefore  necessary  to  make  farther  alterations  in  it, 
with  which  Ti««aphernes  and  the  other  governors 
made  great  difficulties  to  comply.  A  new  treaty  was 
however  concluded,  as  we  shall  tee  in  the  sequel. 

In  the  mean  time,  several  cities  of  Ionia  declared 
for  LacedaBmon.to  which  Alcibiades  contributed  very 


i  Thocyd.J.  viii.  p.  555 — 558.        »  Three  million*  of  livrei. 
•  Thucyd.  1.  viii  p.  568.         «  Idem,  p  561— 571, 579— 576.     p 


much.  Agis,8  who  was  already  his  enemy  in  rons«* 
quence  ol  the  injurv  he  had  received  from  him,  could 
not  endure  the  glory  he  had  acquired;  for  nothing 
was  done  without  the  advice  of  Alcibiades,  and  it  wai 
generally  said,  that  the  success  of  all  enterprises  wa» 
owing  to  him.  The  most  powerful  and  ambitious  of 
the  Spartans,  from  the  same  sentiments  of  jealousy, 
looked  upon  him  with  an  evil  eye,  and  at  length,  bj 
their  intrigues,  obliged  the  principal  magistrates  tf 
send  orders  into  Ionia  for  putting  him  to  death.  Al 
cib:ades  being  secretly  apprised  of  this  order,  did  no< 
discontinue  his  services  to  the  Lacedsemonians,  but 
kept  himself  so  well  upon  his  guard,  that  he  avoided 
all  the  snares  which  were  laid  for  him. 

For  his  better  security  he  threw 
himstlf  into  the  protection  of  Tis-  A.  M.  3?9*J. 

saphernes,  the  great  king's  governor  Ant.  J.  C.  411. 
at  Sardis,  and  was  not  long  without 
seeing  himself  in  the  highest  d«  gree  of  credit  and  au- 
thority in  the  court  of  the  barbarian.  For  this  Per- 
sian, who  was  full  of  fraud  and  artifice,  a  great  friend 
to  knaves  and  bad  men,  and  set  no  value  upon  simpli- 
city and  integrity,  infinitely  admired  the  versatility  of 
Alcibiades,  the  ease  with  which  he  assumed  all  kind 
of  manners  and  characters,  and  his  great  ability  in 
the  conduct  of  affairs.  And  indeed  there  was  no 
heart  so  hard,  or  temper  so  untractable,  as  to  hold 
out  Hgainst  the  graces  and  charms  of  his  conversation 
and  intimacy.  Even  those  who  feared  and  envied  him 
most  enchanted  in  a  manner  by  his  affable  and  en- 
gaging behaviour,  could  not  dissemble  the  infinite  sa- 
tisfaction they  felt  in  seeing  and  conversing  with  him. 

Tissapherues  therefore,  though  otherwise  very 
haughty  an,!  brutal,  and  the  man  who  of  all  the  Per- 
sians most  hated  the  Greeks,  was  so  much  takrn  with 
the  complaisance  and  insinuations  of  Alcibiaces,  that 
he  gave  himself  wholly  up  to  him,  and  Mattered  him 
more  than  he  was  flattered  by  him:  insomuch  that  fte 
gave  the  name  of  Alcibiades  to  the  finest  and  mosl 
delightful  of  his  gardens,  as  well  from  the  abundance 
of  its  fountains  and  canals,  and  the  verdure  of  its 
groves,  as  the  surprising  beauty  of  its  retreats  and  so- 
litudes, which  art  and  nature  seemed  to  vie  with  each 
other  in  embellishing,  and  wherein  a  more  than  royal 
magnificence  was  displayed. 

Alcibiades,  who  found  there  was  no  longer  anj 
safety  for  him  in  the  party  of  the  Spartans,  and  who 
always  apprehended  the  resentment  of  Agis,  began  to 
do  them  ill  offices  with  Tissaphernes,  to  prevent  his 
aiding  them  with  all  his  forces,  and  ruining  the  Athe- 
nians entirely.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  bringing  the 
Persian  into  his  views,  which  were  conformable  to  his 
master's  interests,  and  to  the  orders  he  had  received 
from  him.  For,  ever  since  the  famous  treaty  con- 
cluded under  Cimon,  the  kings  of  Persia,  not  daring 
to  attack  the  Greeks  with  open  force,  took  other  mea- 
sures to  ruin  them.  They  endeavoured  covertly  to 
excite  divisions  amongst  them,  and  to  foment  trouble* 
by  considerable  sums  of  money,  which  they  found 
means  to  conve}-  sometimes  to  Athens,  and  sometime* 
to  Sparta.  They  applied  themselves  so  successfully 
to  keep  up  a  balance  of  power  between  those  two  re- 
publics, that  the  one  could  never  entirely  reduce  the 
other.  They  granted  them  or>ly  slight  aids,  that  could 
effect  nothing  decisive,  in  order  to  undermine  them 
insensibly,  and  exhaust  both  parties  gradually,  by 
weakening  them  by  th«:  msans  of  one  another. 

It  is  in  this  kind  of  conduct  that  policy  makes  the 
ability  of  ministers  consist;  who  from  the  recess  of 
their  cabinets,  without  noise  or  commotion,  without 
any  grent  expenses,  or  setting  numerous  armies  on 
foot,  succeed  in  weakening  the  states  whose  power 
gives  them  umbrage,  either  by  sowing  domestic,  divi- 
sions among  them,  or  by  promoting  the  jealousy  of 
their  neighbours,  in  order  to  set  them  at  variance 
with  each  other. 

We  must  confess,  however,  that  this  kind  of  policy 
gives  us  no  very  favourable  idea  of  the  kings  of  Per- 
sia. To  reduce  themselves,  powerful  as  they  were, 
to  such  mean,  obscure,  and  indirect  measures,  was  to 


•  Thueyd./.  »hi.  p.  577^579     Plut. 'n  Alcib.  p. 20i.  Dio4 
.  164,  MS. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


335 


»nte«,s  their  w<  akness,  and  their  inability,  as  they  be- 
<t*ved,  to  attack  their  enemies  with  open  force,  and  to 
reduce  them  by  honourable  means.  Besides,  is  it  con- 
Mitent  with  justice  to  employ  such  methods  towards 
itatcs,  against  whom  tiiere  is  no  foundation  of  com- 
plaint, who  live  in  peace  under  the  faith  of  treaties, 
and  whose  sole  crime  is  the  apprehension  of  their 
being  one  day  in  a  condition  to  do  hurt?  Is  it  lawful 
oy  secret  bribes  to  lay  snares  to  the  fidelity  of  sub- 
jec.8,  and  to  be  the  accomplice  of  their  treasons,  by 
put'ing  arms  into  their  hands  against  their  native 
coLntry  ? 

What  glory  and  renown  would  not  the  kings  of 
Persia  have  acquned,  if,  content  with  the  vast  pnd 
rich  dominion!  which  Providence  had  given  them, 
they  had  employed  their  good  offices,  power,  and 
even  treasures,  to  reconcile  the  neighbouring  states 
with  each  other;  to  remove  their  jealousies,  to  pre- 
vent injustice  and  oppression;  and  if,  feared  and  hon- 
oured by  them  all,  they  had  made  themselves  the 
mediators  of  their  differences,  the  security  of  their 
peace,  and  the  guarantee  of  their  treaties.  Can  any 
conquest,  however  great,  be  compared  with,  such 
glory? 

Tissaphernes  acted  upon  other  principles,  and  had 
no  thought  but  of  preventing  the  Greeks  from  being 
in  a  condition  to  attack  the  Persians,  their  common 
enemy.  He  therefore  entered  freely  into  the  views 
of  Alcibiades,  and  at  the  same  time  that  he  declared 
himself  openly  for  the  Lacedaemonians,  did  not  fail  to 
assist  the  Athenians  underhand,  and  by  a  thousand 
secret  methods;  deferring  the  payment  of  the  Lace- 
daemonian fleet,  and  retarding  the  arrival  of  the  Phoe- 
nician ships,  of  which  he  had  long  kept  them  in  hopes. 
He  omitted  no  occasion  of  giving  Alcibiades  new 
marks  of  his  friendship  and  esteem,  which  rendered 
that  general  equally  considerable  to  both  parties.  The 
Athenians,  who  had  sadly  experienced  the  effects  of 
having  drawn  his  anger  upon  them,  were  not  now  to 
repent  their  passing  sentence  of  condemnation  upon 
biin.  Alcibiades  also  on  his  side  extremely  sorry  to 
tee  the  Athenians  in  so  mournful  a  situation,  began 
to  fear  that  if  the  city  of  Athens  were  to  be  entirely 
ruined,  he  miirht  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Spartans, 
who  mortally  bated  him. 

SECTION  IF. — THE  RETURN  OF  AI.CIBIADES  TO 
ATHKNS  NEGOTIATED  UPON  CONDITION  OF  ES- 
TABLISHING THE  ARISTOCRATIC  A  L,  IN  THE  ROOM 
OF  THE  DEMOCRATICAL  GOVERNMENT.  TISSA- 
PHERNES  CONCLUDES  A  NEW  TREATY  WITH  THE 
LACEDEMONIANS. 

THE  Athenians  were  intent  upon  nothing  so  much 
a«  Samos,1  where  they  had  all  their  forces.  From 
thence  with  their  fleet  they  reduced  all  the  cities  that 
had  abandoned  them  under  their  obedience,  kept  the 
rest  in  their  duty,  and  found  themselves  still  in  a  con- 
dition to  make  head  against  their  enemies,  over  whom 
they  had  obtained  several  advantages.  But  they  were 
afraid  of  Tissaphernes,  and  the  150  Phoenician  ships 
which  he  hourly  expected  ;  and  rightly  perceived  that, 
if  so  powerful  a  fleet  should  join  the  enemy,  there  was 
no  longer  any  safety  for  their  city.  Alcibiades,  who 
was  well  informed  of  all  that  passed  among  the  Athe- 
nian', sent  secretly  to  the  principal  of  them  at  Samos, 
to  sound  their  sentiments,  and  to  let  them  know,  that 
he  was  not  averse  to  returning  to  Athens,  provided 
the  administration  of  the  republic  were  put  into  the 
bands  of  the  great  and  powerful,  and  not  left  to  the 
populace,  who  had  expelled  him.  Some  of  th«  prin- 
cipal officers  went  from  Samos,  with  design  to  concert 
with  him  the  proper  measures  for  the  sncce«s  of  that 
undertaking.  He  promised  to  procure  the  Athenians 
not  only  the  favour  of  Tistaphernes,  but  of  the  king 
himself,  upon  condition  they  would  abolish  the  demo- 
cracy or  popular  governntent;  because  the  king  would 
place  more  confidence  in  the  engagements  of  the  no- 
bility, than  upon  those  of  the  inconstant  and  capri- 
cious multitude 

The  deputies  lent  a  willing  ear  to  these  proposals, 
tod  conceived  great  hopes  of  exonerating  themselves 

«  rhncjd.  1.  viii  p.  579—587.    Plut.  in  Alcib.  p.  204— 206. 


from  part  of  the  public  impositions,  because  as  they 
were  the  richest  of  the  people,  the  burden  lay  heaviest 
upon  them,  and  of  making  their  country  triumph  after 
having  possessed  themselves  of  the  government.  At 
their  return,  they  began  by  bringing  over  such  as  were 
most  proper  to  share  in  their  design;  after  which  they 
caused  a  report  to  be  spread  amongst  the  troops,  that 
the  king  was  inclined  to  declare  in  favour  of  the  Athe- 
nians, and  to  pity  the  army,  upon  condition  that  Alci- 
biades were  reinstated,  and  the  popular  government 
abolished.  That  proposal  surprised  the  soldiers,  and 
was  generally  rejected  at  first;  but  the  charm  of  gain, 
and  the  hope  of  change  to  their  advantage,  soon 
softened  what  was  harsh  and  offensive  in  it,  and  even 
made  them  ardently  desire  the  recall  of  Alcibiades. 

Phrynicus,  one  of  their  generals,  rightly  judging 
that  Alcibiadeg  cared  as  little  for  an  oligarchy  as  he 
did  for  (he  democracy,  and  that  in  decrying  the  peo- 
ple's conduct,  he  had  no  other  view  than  to  acquire 
the  favour  and  confidence  of  the  nobility  for  his  own 
re-establishment,  had  the  boldness  to  oppose  the  re- 
solutions, which  were  about  to  take  place.  He  re- 
presented, that  the  change  they  meditated  might  very 
probably  excite  a  civil  war  to  the  ruin  of  the  stale; 
that  it  was  very  unlikely  that  the  king  of  Persia  would 
prefer  the  alliance  of  the  Athenians  to  that  of  the  Spar- 
tans, which  was  so  much  more  advantageous  to  him; 
that  this  change  would  not  retain  the  allies  in  their 
duty,  nor  bring  over  those  who  had  renounced  it,  a* 
they  would  persist  in  preferring  their  liberty;  that  the 
government  of  a  small  number  of  rich  and  powerful 
persons  would  not  be  more  favourable  to  either  the 
citizens  or  allies  than  that  of  the  people,  because  am- 
bition was  the  great  cause  of  all  misfortunes  in  a  re- 
public, and  the  rich  were  the  sole  promoters  of  all 
troubles  for  tlve  aggrandizing  of  themselves;  that  a 
state  suffered  more  oppressions  and  violences  under 
the  rule  of  the  nobility  than  under  that  of  the  people, 
whose  authority  kept  the  former  within  due  bounds, 
and  was  the  asylum  of  such  as  they  desired  to  oppress; 
that  the  allies  were  too  well  acquainted  with  these 
truths  from  their  own  experience,  to  want  any  lessons 
upon  the  subject. 

These  remonstrances,  wise  as  they  were,  had  no 
effect.  Pisander  was  gent  to  Athen*  with  some  of  the 
same  faction,  to  propose  the  return  of  Alcibiades,  an 
alliance  with  Tissaphernes,  and  the  abolition  of  the 
democracy.  They  represented  that,  by  changing  the 
government,  and  recalling  Alcibiades,  Athens  might 
obtain  a  powerful  aid  from  the  king  of  Persia,  whicL 
would  be  a  certain  means  to  triumph  over  Sparta. 
Upon  this  proposal  great  numbers  exclaimed  against 
it,  and  especially  the  enemies  of  Alcibiades.  They 
alleged,  amongst  other  reasons,  the  imprecations  pro- 
nounced by  the  priests,  and  all  the  other  ministers  of 
religion  against  him,  and  even  against  such  as  should 
propose  to  recall  him.  But  Pisander,  advancing  into 
the  midst  of  the  assembly,  demanded,  whether  they 
knew  arty  other  means  to  save  the  republic  in  the  de- 
plorable condition  to  which  it  wag  reduced:  and  as  it 
was  admitted  there  were  none,  he  added  tli  the  pre- 
servation of  the  state  was  the  question,  and  not  the 
authority  of  the  laws,  which  might  be  provided  for  in 
the  sequel;  but  at  present  there  was  no  other  melhtd 
for  the  attainment  of  the  king's  friendship  and  thit  of 
Tissaphernes.  Though  thia  ^ang  was  very  c-rtV-n- 
sive  to  the  people,  they  gave  leir  consent  to  it  at 
length,  with  the  hope  of  re-e sublishing  the  democracy 
hereafter,  as  Pisander  had  promised  ;  and  they  decreed 
that  he  should  go  with  ten  more  deputies  to  treat  with 
Alcibiades  and  Tissaphernes,  nnd  that  in  the  mean 
time  Phrynicus  should  be  recalled,  and  another  gen- 
eral appointed  to  command  the  fleet  in  his  stead. 

The  deputies  did  not  find  Tissaphernes  in  »o  good 
a  disposition  as  they  had  been  made  to  hope.  He 
was  afraid  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  but  was  unwilling 
to  render  the  Athenians  too  powerful.  It  was  hi* 
policy,  by  the  advice  of  Alcibiades,  to  leave  the  two 
parties  always  at  war,  in  order  to  weaken  and  con- 
sume them  by  each  other.  He  therefore  made  great 
difficulties.  He  demanded  at  first,  that  the  Atheni- 
ans should  abandon  all  Ionia  to  him,  and  afterward* 
insisted  upon  their  adding  the  neighbouring  island*. 


336 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Those  demands  being  complied  with,  he  farther  re- 
quired, in  a  third  interview,  permission  to  tit  out  a 
fleet  and  to  cruise  in  the  Grecian  seas,  which  had 
been  expressly  provicied  against  in  the  celebrated 
treaty  concluded  with  Artaxtrxes.  The  deputies 
thereupon  broke  up  the  conferences  with  indignat  on, 
and  perceived  that  Alcibiades  had  imposed  upon 
them. 

Tissaphernes,  without  loss  of  time,  concluded  a 
new  ireaty  with  the  Lacedaemonians;  in  which,  what 
had  displeased  in  the  two  preceding  treaties  was  re- 
trenched. The  article,  which  yielded  to  Persia  the 
countries  in  general,  that  had  been  in  the  actual  pos- 
session of  the  reigning  king  Darius,  or  his  predeces- 
sors, was  limited  to  the  provinces  of  Asia.  The  king 
engaged  to  defray  all  expenses  of  the  Lacedaemonian 
fleet, In  the  condition  it  then  was,  till  the  arrival  ot 
that  of  Persia;  after  which  they  were  to  support  it 
themselves;  unless  they  should  choose  that  the  king 
should  pay  it,  to  be  reimbursed  alter  the  conclusion 
of  the  war.  It  was  farther  agreed,  that  they  should 
unite  their  forces,  and  continue  the  war,  or  make 
peace,  by  common  consent.  Tissaphernes,  to  keep 
his  promise,  sent  for  the  fleet  of  Phoenicia.  This 
treaty  was  made  in  the  eleventh  year  of  Darius,  and 
the  twentieth  of  the  Peloponnesian  war. 


SECTION  III. — THE  WHOLE  AUTHORITY  OF  THE 
ATHENIAN  GOVERNMENT  HAVING  BEEN  VESTED 
IN  400  PERSONS,  THEY  MAKE  A  TY'RANMCAL 
ABUSE  OF  THEIR  POWER,  AND  ARE  DKPOSKD. 
ALCIBIADES  IS  RECALLED.  AFTER  VARIOUS  AC- 
CIDENTS, AND  SEVERAL  CONSIDERABLE  VICTO- 
RIES, HE  RETURNS  IN  TRIUMPH  TO  ATHENS,  AND 
IS  APPOINTED  GENERALISSIMO.  HE  CAUSES  THE 
GREAT  MYSTERIES  TO  BE  CELEBRATED,  AND 
DEPARTS  WITH  THE  FLEET. 

From  the  twenty-first  to  (he  twenly-Jifth  year  of  the 
War. 

PISANDER,'  at  his  return  to  Athens,  found  the 
change  he  had  proposed  at  his  setting  out  much  for- 
warded, to  which  he  soon  after  put  the  last  hand.  To 
give  a  form  of  this  new  government,  he  caused  ten 
commissioners  with  absolute  power  to  be  appointed, 
who  were  however  at  a  certain  fixed  time  to  give  the 
people  an  account  of  what  they  had  done.  At  the 
expiration  of  that  term,  the  general  assembly  was 
summoned,  wherein  their  fir^t  resolution  was,  that 
every  one  should  be  admitted  to  make  such  proposals 
a*  he  thought  fit,  without  being  liable  to  any  accusa- 
tion of  infringing  the  law,  or  to  any  penally  in  conse- 
quence. It  was  afterwards  decreed,  that  a  new 
council  should  be  formed,  with  full  power  to  admin- 
ister the  public  affairs,  and  to  elect  new  magistrates. 
For  this  purpose  five  presidents  were  established, 
who  nominated  100  persons,  including  themselves, 
F.ach  of  these  chose  and  associated  three  more  at  his 
own  pleasure,  which  made  in  all  400,  in  whom  an 
absolute  power  wa»  lodged.  But  to  amuse  the  peo- 
ple, and  to  console  them  with  a  shadow  of  popular 
government,  whilst  they  instituted  a  real  oligarchy, 
it  was  said  that  the  Four  Hundred  should  call  a  coun- 
cil of  5000  citizens,  to  assist  them  when  thev  should 
judge  it  necessary.  The  council  and  assemblies  of 
the  people  were  held  as  usual:  nothing  was  done 
however  but  by  the  order  of  the  Four  Hundred.  ^The 
people  of  Athens  were  deprived  in  this  manner  of 
their  liberty,  which  they  had  enjoyed  almost  a  hun- 
dred years,  after  having  abolished  the  tyranny  of  the 
Pisistratidne. 

This  decree  being  passed  without  opposition,  after 
the  separation  of  the  assembly,  the  Four  Hundred 
armed  with  daggers,  and  attended  by  120  young  men, 
whom  they  made  use  of  when  any  execution  required 
it.  entered  the  senate,  and  compelled  the  senators  to 
retire,  after  having  paid  them  the  arrears  due  upon 
their  salaries.  They  elected  new  magistrates  out  of 
their  own  body,  observing  the  usual  ceremonies  upon 
inch  net-axiom.  They  did  not  think  proper  to  recall 
those,  who  were  banished,  lest  they  should  be  obliged 


>  Thccjd.  I  viii.  p.  aOO,  594.     Plat,  in  Alcib.  p.  203 


to  authorize  the  return  of  Alcibiades,  of  whos  t  t 
trollable  spirit  they  were  apprehensive,  ar.i  «vho 
would  soon  have  made  himself  master  of  '.he  people 
Abusing  their  power  in  a  tyrannical  manner.  <om« 
they  put  to  death,  others  they  banished,  confiscating 
their  estates  with  impunity.  All  who  ventured  to 
oppose  this  change,  or  even  to  complain  of  it,  were 
butchered  upon  false  pretexts;  and  those  would  have 
met  with  a  bad  reception  who  demanded  justice  of 
the  murderers.  The  Four  Hundred,  soon  after  their 
establishment,  sent  ten  deputies  to  Samos  to  gain  the 
concurrence  of  the  army. 

All  that  had  passed  at  Athens  was  already  known 
there,*  and  the  news  had  enraged  the  soldiers  to  tl;« 
highest  degree.  They  deposed  immediately  several 
of  their  chiefs,  whom  they  suspected,  and  put  others 
into  their  places,  of  whom  Thrasylus  and  Thrasv  bulus 
were  the  principal,  and  in  highest  credit  Alcibiades 
was  recalled,  and  chosen  generalissimo  by  the  whole 
army.  They  were  desirous  to  sail  directly  for  th« 
Piraeus  to  attack  the  tyrants.  But  he  opposed  it,  re- 
presenting that  it  xvas  necessary  he  should  first  have 
an  interview  with  Tissaphernes,  and  that  as  they  had 
chosen  him  general,  they  might  rely  upon  him  fur  the 
care  of  the  war.  He  set  out  immediately  for  Miletus. 
His  principal  design  was  to  show  himself  to  that 
governor  with  all  the  power  with  which  he  had  been 
invested,  and  to  let  him  see  that  he  was  in  a  condition 
to  do  him  much  good  or  much  harm.  The  conse- 
quence of  wtiich  was,  that  as  he  had  kept  the  Athe- 
nians in  avve  by  Tissaphernes,  he  now  awed  Tissa- 
phernes no  le»s  by  the  Athenians;  and  we  shall  see  in 
the  sequel  that  this  interview  was  not  unnecessary. 

Alcibiades,  upon  his  return  to  Samos,  found' the 
army  more  inflamed  than  at  first.  The  deputies  of 
the  Four  Hundred  had  arrived  there  during  his  ab- 
sence, and  had  endeavoured  in  vain  to  justify  the 
alteration  made  at  Athens  to  the  sol-.iit  iv.  Their 
discourses,  which  were  often  interrupted  by  tumultu- 
ous cries,  served  only  to  exasperate  them  more,  and 
they  earnestly  demanded  to  be  led  against  the  tyrant* 
directly.  Alcihiades  did  not  act  on  this  occasion,  at 
every  body  else  would  have  done  in  consequence  of 
having  been  raised  to  so  high  a  dignity  by  the  favour 
of  the  people:  for  he  did  not  think  himself  obliged  to 
an  absolute  and  implicit  compliance  with  their  incli- 
nations in  every  thing,  though  from  an  exile  and  fugi- 
tive, they  had  made  him  general  of  so  great  a  fleet, 
and  so  numerous  and  formidable  an  army:  but,  a:  a 
statesman  and  great  politician,  he  believed  it  his  duty 
to  oppose  the  blind  fury  that  hurried  them  on  into 
evident  danger,  and  to  prevent  them  from  committing 
a  fault  which  must  have  been  attended  with  their 
utter  ruin.  This  wise  steadiness  preserved  the  city  of 
Athens.  For  had  they  sailed  thither  at  first,  the  ene- 
my would  have  made  themselves  masters  of  Ionia,  the 
Hellespont,  and  all  the  islands,  without  resistance*; 
whilst  the  Athenians,  by  carrying  the  war  into  their 
own  city,  would  have  exhausted  their  nhole  forces 
against  one  another.  He  prevented  the  deputies  from 
being  ill-treated,  antl  dismissed  them;  sai ing, that  he 
did  not  object  to  the  5000  citizens  having  the  supreme 
authority  in  the  republic,  but  that  it  was  necessary 
to  depose  the  Four  Hundred,  and  to  re-establish  the 
senate. 

During  these  commotions,'  the  Phoenician  fleet, 
which  the  Lacedaemonians  impatiently  expected,  ap- 
proached, and  news  came  that  it  was  arrived  at  As- 
pendus.*  Tissaphernes  went  to  meet  it;  nobodt  being 
able  to  divine  the  true  cause  of  that  journey.  He 
had  sent  for  that  fleet  at  first  to  flatter  the  Lacedae- 
monians with  the  hopes  of  so  powerful  an  aid,  and 
to  put  a  stop  to  their  progress  by  making1  them  wait 
its  arrival.  It  was  believed  that  his  journey  had  thr 
same  motive;  to  prevent  their  doing 'any  thing  in  his 
absence,  and  that  their  soldiers  and  mariners  might 
disband  for  want  of  pay.  However  this  might  be,  he 
did  not  bring  the  fleet  with  him,  from  the  view,  no 
doubt,  of  keeping  the  balance  equal,  which  was  the 

*Thuryt>.  I.  riii.  p.  595— C04.      Plut.  in  Alcib. 
DM K).  p.  ill.-,. 
•  Thueyd.  1.  viii.  p.  G04,  606.  «  A  city  of  Pai 


«  A  city  of  P»m[>hvli» 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


337 


Hi!}-,  t-f  Persia's  interest,  and  of  exhausting  both  par- 
ties •  M-  the  length  of  the  war.  For  it  would  have 
been  very  easy  lor  him  to  have  put  an  end  to  it  by  the 
assistance  of  this  additional  fleet,  as  the  Lacedemoni- 
ans h.one  were  already  as  strong  at  sea  as  the  Athe- 
nians. Hi*  frivolous  excuse,  of  its  not  being  complete, 
which  tie  alleged  as  the  reason  for  not  bringing  it  with 
him,  «ull"iciently  shows  that  he  had  other  motives  for 
his  conduct. 

Th«  return  of  the  deputies  without  success,1  who 
bad  been  sent  to  Santos,  and  the  answer  of  Alcibiades, 
excited  new  troubles  in  the  citv,  and  gave  a  mortal 
won n  1  to  the  authority  of  the  Four  Hundred.  The 
tumult  increased  exceedingly,  when  news  was  brought 
that  the  enemy,  after  having  beaten  the  ileet  which 
hnd  been  sent  bv  the  Four  Hundred  to  the  aid  of 
Eiilnta.  had  made  themselves  masters  of  the  island. 
Athens  was  in  the  highest  terror  and  consternation  on 
this  account.  For  neither  the  defeat  in  Sicily,  nor 
any  other  preceding  it,  were  of  such  importance  as 
the  lo«s  of  this  island,  from  whence  the  city  received 
Considerable  supplies,  and  almost  all  its  provisions.  If 
in  the  confusion  in  which  Athens  was  Ht  that  time  be- 
tween two  (action-,  (he  victorious  fleet  had  fallen  upon 
the  port,  as  it  might  have  done,  the  army  of  Samos 
woul  !  have  been  indispensably  obliged  to  have  flown 
to  the  defence  of  their  country;  and  then  the  repub- 
lic would  have  had  only  the  city  of  Athens  remaining 
of  all  its  dominion*.  For  the  Hellespont,  Ionia,  and 
all  the  islands,  seeing  themselves  abandoned,  would 
have  been  reduced  to  choose  a  side,  and  go  over  to 
the  Peloponnesians.  But  the  enemy  were  not  capa- 
ble of  such  great  designs;  and  this  was  not  the  first 
lime  that  the  Lacediemonians  had  been  observed  to 
have  lost  their  advantages  by  their  natural  slowness 
and  procrastination. 

Athens  without  delay  deposed  the  Four  Hundred, 
as  the  authors  of  all  the  troubles  and  divisions  under 
which  they  groaned.  Alcibiades  was  recalled  bf 
unanimous  consent,  and  earnestly  solicited  to  make 
all  p.ir-ible  haste  to  the  assistance  of  the  city.  But 
••ulging.  that  if  he  returned  immediately  to  Athens, 
ne  should  owe  his  recall  to  the  compassion  and  favour 
of  the  people,  he  resolved  to  render  his  return  glori- 
ous and  triumphant,  and  to  deserve  it  by  some  consi- 
derable exploit.  For  this  purpose, 
A.  M.  3595.  leaving  Samos  with  a  small  number 
Ant.  J.  C.  409.  of  ships,  he  cruised  about  the  islands 
of  Cos  and  Cnidos;  and  having 
learned  that  Mindarns,  the  Spartan  admiral,  was  sail- 
ing t  >uards  the  Hellespont  with  his  whole  fleet,  and 
that  the  Atheauun  were  in  pursuit  of  him,  he  steered 
that  w;iy  with  the  rtmost  diligence  to  support  them, 
Btid  arrived  happily  with  his  eighteen  vtssels,  at  the 
time  that  the  fleets  were  engaged  near  Abydos  in  a 
battle,  which  lasted  till  night,  without  any  advantage 
on  eitder  side.  His  arrival  gave  the  Spartans  new 
courage  at  first,  who  believed  him  still  their  friend, 
and  dispirited  the  Athenians.  But  Alcibiades,  hang- 
ing out  the  Athenian  flag  in  the  admiral's  galley,  fell 
upon  tlie  Lacedaemonians  who  were  strongest,  and 
were  vi^orou-ly  pursuing  thv  Athenians,  put  them  to 
rtight,  drove  them  ashore;  and.  animated  by  his  suc- 
cess, *iink  the  vessels,  and  made  a  great  slaughter  of 
the  soldiers,  who  had  thrown  themselves  into  the  sea 
to  save  themselves  by  swimming;  though  Pharnaba- 
EU*  spared  no  pains  to  assist  them,  and  had  advanced 
Bt  the  head  of  his  troops  to  the  coast,  to  favour  their 
flight,  and  to  save  their  ships.  The  Athenians  after 
having  taken  thirty  of  iheir  galley*,  and  retaken  those 
they  had  lost,  erected  a  trophy. 

Alcibiades,  vain   of  his   success, 
A.  M.  359S.     had  the  ambition  to  desire  to  appear 
Ant.  J.  C.  408.     before  Tissaphernes  in  his  triumph- 
ant equipage,  and  to  make  him  rich 
present*,  as  well   in   his  own,  as   in  the   name  of  the 
people  of  Athens.     He.  went  to  him  therefore  with  a 
magnificent    retinue,  worthy   of   the   general   of  the 
Athenians.     But  he  did  not  meet  with  that  favourable 
reception  he  expected.     For  Tissaphernes,  who  knew 

i  Thucvd.  I.  viii   p.  (-07—614.     Plut.  in  Alcib.  p.  206-210. 
Diod   p.  171.  172,  4t  175,  177,  and  189—198. 
VuL.  1.— 43 


he  was  accused  by  the  Lacedaemonians, and  feared  that 
the  king  would  punish  him  at  length  for  not  having 
executed  his  orders,  found  Alcibiades  presenting  him- 
self very  opportunely,  and  caused  him  to  be  seized 
and  sent  prisoner  to  Sardi«;  to  shelter  himself  by  that 
injustice  from  the  representations  of  the  Lacedemo- 
nians. 

Thirty  days  after,  Alcibiades,  having  found  means 
to  get  a  horse,  escaped  from  his  guards,  and  fled  to 
Clazomene,  where,  to  revenge  himself  on  Tissapher- 
nes, he  gave  out  that  he  had  set  him  at  liberty.  From 
Clazomenae,  he  repaired  to  the  Athenian  fleet,  where 
he  was  joined  by  Tharamenis  with  twenty  ship*  from 
Macedonia,  and  by  Thrasybulus  with  twenty  more 
from  Thasos.  He  sailed  from  thence  to  Parinm  in 
the  Propontis.  All  those  ships,  to  the  number  of  four- 
score and  six,  being  come  thither,  he  left  (hat  place  in 
the  night,  and  arrived  the  next  morning  at  Proconne- 
sus,  a  small  isle  near  Cyzicum.  He  heard  there,  that 
.Mindarus  was  at  Cyzicum  with  Pharnabazus  and  his 
land  army.  He  rested  that  whole  day  at  Proconne- 
sus.  On  the  morrow  he  harangued  his  soldiers,  and 
represented  to  them  the  necessity  there  was  for  at- 
tacking the  enemy  by  sea  and  land,  and  for  making 
themselves  masters  of  Cvzicum;  demonstrating,  at  the 
same  time,  that  without  a  complete  and  absolute  vic- 
tory, they  could  have  neither  provisions  nor  money. 
He  had  taken  great  care  that  the  enemy  should  not 
be  apprized  of  his  approach.  Fortunately  for  him,  a 
great  etorm  of  rain  and  thunder,  followed  by  a  thick 
gloom,  helped  him  to  conceal  his  enterprize  so  suc- 
cessfully, that  not  or.'y  the  enemy  were  prevented 
from  perceiving  that  he  advanced,  but  the  Athenians 
themst  Ives,  whom  he  had  caused  to  embark  with  pre- 
cipitation, did  not  know  that  he  had  weighed  anchor 
and  put  to  sea. 

V>  hen  the  gloom  was  dispersed,  the  Lacedaemonian 
fleet  appeared  exercising  at  some  distance  before  the 
port.  Alcibiades,  who  was  apprehensive  that  the 
enemy,  upon  the  sight  of  so  great  a  number  of  ships, 
would  make  for  the  harbour,  ordered  the  captains  to 
keep  back  a  little,  and  to  follow  him  at  a  good  dis- 
tance; and  taking  only  forty  vessels,  he  advanced 
towards  the  enemy,  to  offer  them  battle.  The  enemy, 
deceived  by  this  stratagem,  and  despising  his  small 
number,  advanced  against  him,  and  began  the  fight. 
But  when  they  saw  the  rest  of  the  Athenian  fleet 
come  up,  they  immediately  lost  courage,  and  fled. 
Alcibiades,  with  twenty  01  his  best  ships,  pursued 
them  to  the  shore,  landed,  and  killed  a  great  number 
of  them  in  the  flight.  Mindarus  and  Pharnabazus  op- 
posed his  efforts  in  vain;  the  first,  who  fought  with 
astonishing  valour,  he  killed,  and  put  the  other  to 
flight. 

The  Athenians  by  this  victory,  which  made  them 
masters  of  the  slain,  the  arms,  spoils,  and  whole  fleet 
of  the  entmy,  and  by  the  taking  of  Cyzicum,  not  only 
possessed  themselves  of  the  Hellespont,  but  drove 
the  Spartans  entirely  out  of  that  sea.  Letter*  were 
intercepted,  in  which  the  Utter,  with  a  conciseness 
truly  laconic,  informed  the  Ephori  of  the  blow  they 
had  received,  in  terms  to  this  effect:  "The  flower  of 
your  army  is  cut  off;  Mindarus  is  dead;  the  rest  j{ 
the  troops  are  dying  with  hunger;  and  we  neither 
know  what  to  do,  nor  what  will  become  of  us." 

The  news  of  this  victory  occasioned  no  less  joy  at 
Athens  than  consternation  at  Sparta.  They  despatch- 
ed ambassadors  immediately  to  demand,2  that  on  end 
should  be  put  to  a  war  equally  destructive  to  both 
people,  ana  that  a  peace  should  be  concluded  upon 
reasonable  conditions,  forthe  re-establishment  of  their 
ancient  concord  and  amity,  of  which  they  had  for 
many  years  experienced  the  salutary  effects.  Tn* 
wisest  and  most  judicious  of  the  citizens  of  Athens 
were  unanimously  of  opinion,  that  it  was  proper  to 
take  the  advantage  of  so  favourable  a  conjuncture  for 
the  concluding  of  a  treaty,  which  might  put  an  end 
to  all  jealousies,  appease  all  animosities,  and  remoy* 
all  distrusts.  But  those  who  found  their  advantage  in 
the  troubles  of  the  slate,  prevented  »o  happy  a  dispo 
sition  from  taking  effect.  Cleophon,»  amongst  others 


•  Diod  1  xiii.  p.  177—179.     •  JUch.  in  Or«U  d«  fab.  U/*i- 
2D 


HISTORY  O*   THE 


the  orator  in  greatest  repute  at  that  time,  animated 
the  people  from  the  tribunal,  by  a  violent  and  seditious 
discourse,  insinuating,  that  their  interests  were  be- 
trayed by  some  who  Kept  up  a  secret  Intelligence  with 
the'  Lacedaemonians,  which  aimed  at  depriving  them 
of  all  the  advantages  of  the  important  victory  they  had 
lately  gained,  and  at  making  them  lose  fjr  ever  the 
opportunity  of  being  fully  avenged  for  all  the  v/rongs 
ami  misfortunes  Sparta  had  caused  them  to  suffer. 
This  Cleophon  was  a  worthless  fellow,  a  musical  in- 
strument maker.  It  was  reported  also  that  he  had 
been  a  slave,  and  had  got  himself  fraudulently  enrolled 
in  the  register  of  the  citizens.  He  carried  his  auda- 
city and  fury  so  far  as  to  threaten  to  plunge  his  dag- 
ger into  the  throat  of  any  one  who  should  talk  of  peace. 
The  Athenians,  puffed  up  with  their  present  prospe- 
rity, forgetting  their  past  misfortunes,  and  promising 
themselves  all  things  from  the  valour  and  good  fortune 
of  Alcibiades,  haughtily  rejected  all  proposals  of  ac- 
commodation, without  reflecting,  that  there  is  nothing 
so  fluctuating  and  precarious  as  the  success  of  war. 
The  ambassadors  retired  without  being  able  to  effect 
any  thing.  Such  infatuation  and  irrational  pride  are 
generally  the  forerunners  of  some  great  misfortune. 

Alcibiades  knew  well  how  to  take  advantage  of  the 
•victory  he  had  gained,  and  presently  after  besieged 
Chalcedon,  which  had  revolted  from  the  Athenians 
and  received  a  Lacedemonian  garrison.  During  this 
siege,  he  took  another  town,  called  Selymbria.  Phar- 
nabaztis,  terrified  bv  the  rapidity  of  his  conquests, 
made  a  treaty  with  tfie  Athenians  to  this  effect;  "That 
Pharnabazus  should  pa)'  them  a  certain  sum  of  money ; 
that  the  Chalcedonians  should  return  to  their  obedi- 
ence and  dependence  upon  the  Athenians,  and  pay 
them  tribute;  and  that  the  Athenians  should  commit 
no  hostilities  in  the  province  of  Pharnabazus,  who 
engaged  for  the  safe  conduct  of  their  ambassadors  to 
the  great  king."  Byzantium  and  several  other  cities 
submitted  to  the  Athenians. 

Alcibiades,  who  desired  with  the 
A.M.  3597.  utmost  passion  to  see  his  country 
Ant.  J.  C.  407.  again,  or  rather  to  be  seen  by  his 
country,  after  so  many  victories  over 
their  enemies,  set  out  for  Athens.  The  sides  of  his 
ships  were  covered  with  bucklers  and  all  sorts  of 
spoils,  in  form  of  trophies;  and  causing  a  grtat  num- 
ber of  vessels  to  be  towed  after  him  by  way  of  triumph, 
he  displayed  also  the  ensigns  and  ornaments  of  those 
he  had  burnt,  which  were  more  in  number  than  the 
others;  the  whole  amounting  to  about  200  ships.  It 
is  said,  that  reflecting  on  what  had  been  done  against 
him,  upon  approaching  the  port,  he  was  struck  with 
some  terror,  and  was  afraid  to  quit  his  vessel,  till  he 
saw  from  the  deck  a  great  number  of  his  friends  and 
relations,  who  were  come  to  the  shore  to  receive  him, 
and  earnestly  entreated  him  to  land. 

The  people  came  out  of  the  city  in  crowds  to  meet 
him,  and  at  his  appearance  set  up  incredible  shouts  of 
joy.  In  the  midst  of  an  infinite  number  of  officers  and 
soldiers,  all  eyes  were  fixed  solely  on  him,  whom  they 
considered  as  Victory  itself,  descended  from  the  skies: 
all  thronging  around  him,  caressed,  blessed,  and 
crowned  him  in  emulation  of  each  other.  These,  who 
could  not  approach  him,  were  never  tired  with  contem- 
plating him  at  a  distance,  whilst  the  old  men  showed 
him  to  their  children.  They  repeated  with  the  highest 
praises  all  the  great  actions  he  had  done  for  his  coun- 
try; nor  could  they  refuse  their  admiration  even  to 
those  which  he  had  done  against  it  during  his  ban- 
fehment,  of  which  they  imputed  the  fault  to  them- 
telres  alone.  This  public  joy  was  mingled  with  tears 
and  regret,  from  the  remembrance  of  past  misfortunes, 
which  they  could  not  avoid  comparing  with  their  pre- 
•ent  felicity.  "  We  could  not  have  failed,"  said  tnev, 
"of  the  conquest  of  Sicily;  our  other  hopes  could 
never  have  proved  abortive,  if  we  had  intrusted  all  our 
affair?  and  forces  to  the  disposal  of  Alcibiades  alone. 
(n  what  a  condition  was  Athens  when  he  took  upon 
nim  our  protection  and  defence!  We  had  not  only 
almost  entirely  lost  our  power  at  sea,  but  were  scarce 
possessed  of  the  suburbs  of  our  city,  and,  to  add  to 
our  misfortunes,  were  torn  to  pieces  by  a  horrid  civil 
war  He  notwithstanding  ha*  raised  the  republic 


from  its  ruins;  and  not  content  with  having  reinstated 
it  in  the  possession  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  sea,  has 
rendered  it  universally  victorious  by  land;  as  if  th« 
fate  of  Athens  had  been  in  his  hands  alune,  either  t» 
ruin  or  restore  it,  and  victory  was  annexed  to  his  per 
son,  and  obeyed  his  orders." 

This  favourable  reception  of  Alcibiades  did  not 
prevent  his  demanding  an  assembly  of  the  peopU,  in 
order  to  his  justification  before  them:  well  knowing 
how  necessary  it  was  for  his  safety  to  be  absolved  in 
due  form.  He  appeared  therefore-  and  after  having 
deplored  his  misfortunes,  which  he  imputed  very  little 
to  the  people,  and  entirely  ascribed  to  his  ill  fortune, 
and  some  demon  envious  of  his  prosperity,  he  r<  pre- 
sented to  them  the  designs  of  the  enemy,  and  exhorted 
them  not  to  conceive  other  than  great  hopes.  The 
Athenians,  transported  with  hearing  him  speak,  de- 
creed him  crowns  of  gold,  appointed  him  general  by 
sea  and  land  with  unlimited  power,  restored  him  all 
hi'j  fortunes,  and  ordered  the  Eumolpidze  and  Cery- 
ces '  to  absolve  him  from  the  curses  they  had  pro- 
nounced against  him  by  the  order  of  the  people; 
doing  their  utmost  to  make  him  amends  for  the  injury 
and  shame  of  his  banishment  by  the  glory  of  his  recall. 
and  to  efface  the  remembrance  the  imprecations  them- 
selves had  decreed,  by  the  vows  and  prayers  .vhich 
they  made  in  his  favour.  Whilst  all  the  Eumolpidat 
and  Ceryces  were  employed  in  revoking  these  impre- 
cations, Theodorus,  the  principal  of  them,  had  the 
courage  to  say:  As  for  me,  I  have  not  curstd  him, 
if  he  has  done  no  evil  to  his  country;  insinuating  by 
that  bold  expression,  that  the,  maledictions,  being  con- 
ditional, could  not  fall  on  the  head  of  the  innocent, 
nor  be  averted  from  the  guilty. 

In  the  midst  of  this  glory  and  shining  prosperity 
of  Alcibiades.  the  majority  of  the  people  could  not 
help  being  concerned,  when  they  considered  the  time 
of  his  return.  For  it  happened  precisely  upon  the  day 
when  the  Athenians  celebrated  a  festival  in  honour  of 
Minerva,  adored  under  the  name  of  Agranlis.  The 
priests  took  off  all  the  ornaments  from  the  goddess's 
statue  to  wash  it — from  whence  that  feast  was  called 
rixuvriifia — and  afterwards  covered  it;  and  that  day 
was  accounted  one  of  the  most  ominous  and  unfor- 
tunate. It  was  the  25th  of  the  month  Thargi  lion 
which  answers  to  the  2d  of  July.  This  ciirum-tunre 
displeased  that  superstitious  people,  because  it  seemed 
to  imply  that  the  goddess,  patroness  and  protectress 
of  Athens,  did  not  receive  Alcibiades  agreeably  and 
with  a  benign  aspect,  since  she  covered  and  concealed 
herself,  as  if  she  would  keep  him  off  and  remove  him 
from  her. 

All  things  having  however  succeeded  according  to 
his  wi'h,2  and  the  100  ships  he  was  to  romiriand 
being  ready,  he  deferred  his  departure  out  of  a  laud- 
able ambit'ion  to  celebrate  the  great  mysteries;  for 
from  the  time  the  Lacedaemonians  had  fortified  Dece- 
lia,  and  taken  possession  of  all  the  ways  from  Athens 
to  Eleusis,  the  feast  had  not  been  solemnized  in  all 
its  pomp,  and  the  procession  had  been  obliged  to  go 
by  sea. 

Alcibiades  believed  it  would  be  a  mo»t  glorious 
action,  and  draw  down  upon  him  the  b!e--in;r«  of  the 
gods  and  the  praises  of  men,  if  he  restored  all  it*  lustre 
and  solemnity  to  this  feast,  in  making  the  procession 
go  by  land  escorted  by  his  troops  to  defend  it  against 
the  attacks  of  the  enemy.  For  eitner  Agis  wonU  suffer 
it  to  pass  quietly .  notwithstanding  the  numerous  troops 
he  had  at  Decelia,  which  would  considerably  lessen 
the  reputation  of  that  king,  and  sully  his  glory;  or,  if 
he  should  choose  to  attack  it,  and  oppose  the  march 
he  should  then  have  the  satisfaction  to  fight  a  sacred 
battle — a  battle  grateful  to  the  gods,  for  the  greatest 
and  most  venerable  of  all  their  mysteries,  in  the  r«is;ht 
of  his  country  and  citizens,  who  would  be  witnesses 
of  his  valour  and  regard  for  religion.  It  i?  very  likely, 
that  by  this  public  and  ostentatious  act  of  pi«-ty,  «  hich 


«  The  Eumolpidteand  Coryre*  were  two  femilii'?  at  Athens 
who  hud  different  f'jnctions  in  thr  niviterios  of  Ceres.  Tney 
took  their  names  from  Eumolpus  and  Ceryx.  the  fir-it  wh« 
had  exercised  thow  offices.  Perhapn  the  employment  ol'th* 
latter  had  some  relation  to  that  of  herald*  vx«u*!». 

•  Plut.  in  Alcih.  p.  210 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


339 


(truck  the  people's  view  in  so  sensible  a  manner,  and 
was  so  extremtly  to  their  taste.  Alcibiades's  princi- 
pal design  was  to  efface  entirely  from  their  minds 
the  suspicions  of  impiety,  to  which  the  mutilation  of 
the  statues,  and  profanation  of  the  mysteries,  had 
given  birth. 

Having  taken  that  resolution,  he  gave  notice  to  the 
Eumolpidae  and  Ceryces  to  hold  themselves  in  readi- 
ness, posted  sentinels  upon  the  hill*,  sent  oul  scouts 
at  the  break  of  day,  and  taking  with  him  the  priests, 
the  initiated,  and  the  probationers,  with  those  who 
initiated  them,  he  covered  them  with  his  army,  and 
Conducted  the  whole  pomp  with  wonderful  order  and 
profound  si'ence.  Never  was  show,  says  Plutarch, 
DLore  august,  nor  more  worthy  the  majesty  of  the  gods, 
than  thisi  warlike  procession, and  religious  expedition; 
in  which  even  those  who  envied  the  glory  of  Alcibiades 
were  obliged  to  own,  that  he.  was  no  less  happy  in 
discharging  the  functions  of  a  high  priest  than  those 
of  a  general.  No  enemy  dared  to  appear,  or  disturb 
that  pompous  march,  and  Alcibiades  rcconducted  the 
•a  .red  troop  to  Athens  with  entire  safety-  This  suc- 
cess gave  him  new  courage,  and  raised  the  valour  and 
boldness  of  his  army  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  looked 
upon  themselves  as  invincible  whilst  he  commanded 
them. 

He  acquired  the  affection  of  the  poor,  and  the  lower 
sort  of  people  so  much  that  they  most  ardently  de- 
sired to  have  him  for  their  king.  Many  of  them 
openly  declared  themselves  to  that  effect;"  and  there 
were  some  who  addressed  themselves  to  him,  and  ex- 
horted him  to  set  himself  above  envy,  and  not  to  trou- 
ble himself  about  laws,  decrees,  or  suffrages;  to  put 
down  those  wordy  impertinent  orators  that  disturbed 
the  -t-ite  with  their  vain  harangues,  to  make  himself 
absolute  master  of  affairs,  and  to  govern  with  entire 
authority,  without  fearing  accusers.  For  him,  what 
his  thoughts  of  the  tyranny  and  his  designs  were, 
are  unknown;  hut  the  most  powerful  citizens,  appre- 
hending the  breaking  out  of  a  fire,  of  which  they 
already  saw  the  sparks,  pressed  him  to  depart  without 
delay;  granting  whatever  he  demanded,  and  giving 
him" for  colleagues,  the  generals  most  agreeable  to 
him.  He  set  sail  accordingly  with  100  ships,  and 
steered  for  the  island  of  And'ros,  that  had  revolted. 
His  high  reputation,  and  the  good  fortune  that  had 
attended  him  in  all  his  enterprises,  made  nothing  but 
what  was  great  and  extraordinary  to  be  expected 
from  him. 

SECTION  IV.  THE  LACEDiMONTANS  APPOINT 
I.YSANDER  ADMIRAL.  HE  ACQUIRES  GREAT  IN- 
FLUENCE WITH  THE  YOUNGER  CYRUS.  WHO 
COMMANDED  IX  ASIA.  HE  KEATS  THE  ATHE- 
NIAN FLEET  NEAR  EPHESUS  IX  THE  ABSENCE 
OF  ALCIBIADES,  WHO  IS  DEPRIVED  OF  THE  COM- 
MAND. TEN  GENERALS  ARE  CHOSEN  IN  HIS 
STEAD,  CALLICRATIDAS  SUCCEEDS  LYSANDER. 

Twenty-sixth  year  of  the  If'ur. 
THE  Lacedaemonians,' justly  alarmed  at  the  return 
and  success  of  Alcibiades,  sufficiently  perceived  that 
such  an  enemv  required  to  be  opposed  by  an  able 
general,  capable  of  making  head  against  nim.  For 
this  reason  tliey  made  choice  of  Lvsander,  and  gave 
him  the  command  of  the  fleet.  When  he  arrived  at 
Ephesu*,  he  found  the  city  very  well  disposed  towards 
himself,  and  well  affected  to  Sparta;  but  otherwise  in 
a  very  unhappy  situation.  For  it  was  in  danger  of 
becoming  barbarous,  by  assuming  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  Persians,  who  hnd  great  intercourse 
with  it,  as  well  as  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Lydia. 
as  because  the  kind's  generals  romnionlv  took  op  their 
winter  quarters  there.  An  idle  and  voluptuous  life, 
filled  up  with  luxury  and  empty  show,  could  not  fail 
afdisgmting  infinitely  a  man  like  Lysander,  who  had 
been  bred  from  his  birth  in  the  simplicity,  poverty, 
and  severe  discipline  of  Sparta.  Having  b'rought  his 
army  tn  Fphesu«.  he  gave  orders  for  assembling  ships 
of  burden  there  from  all  parts,  erecting  an  arsenal  for 
building  of  galleys,  made  the  ports  free  for  merchants, 

i  Xcnoph.  Hellen.  I.  i.  p.  440 — 443.  Plut.  in  Lrsand.  p. 
434,  43o.  Diod.  I.  xiii.  p  158— 197. 


gave  up  the  squares  and  public  places  to  artificers 
put  all  the  arts  in  motion,  and  held  them  in  honour, 
and  by  these  mean*  tilled  the  city  with  riches,  und 
laid  th'e  foundations  of  that  grandeur  and  magnificence 
to  which  it  afterwards  attained.  So  great  a  change 
can  the  application  and  ability  of  a  single  person 
occasion  in  a  state! 

Whilst  he  was  making  these  dispositions,  he  re- 
ceived advice,  that  Cyrus,  the  king's  youngest  son, 
was  arrived  at  Sardis.  That  prince  could  not  be 
above  sixteen  years  old  at  that  fmie,  being  bcrn  after 
his  father's  accession  to  the  throne,  who  was  now  in 
the  seventeenth  year  of  hi*  reign.  Parysatis,  his 
mother,  loved  him  to  idolatry,  and  she  had  the  entire 
ascendant  over  her  husband.  It  was  she  that  occa- 
sioned his  having  the  command  in  chief  of  all  the 
provinces  of  Asia  Minor  given  him  —  a  command 
that  subjected  all  the  provincial  governors  of  the 
most  important  part  of  the  empire  to  his  authority. 
The  view  of  Par\  satis  was,  without  doubt,  to  put  this 
young  prince  into  a  condition  to  dispute  the  ihrone 
with  nis  brother  after  the  king's  death,  as  we  shall  see 
he  actually  did.  One  of  the  principal  instructions 
given  him  by  his  father,  upon  sending  him  to  his  gov- 
ernment, was  to  give  effectual  aid  to  the  Lacedaamo- 
nians  against  Athens — an  order  very  contrary  to  the 
measures  observed  till  then  by  Tissaphernes,  and  the 
other  governors  of  those  provinces.  It  had  always 
been  their  maxim,  sometimes  to  assist  one  party, some- 
times the  other,  in  order  to  hold  their  power  in  such 
a  balance  that  the  one  might  never  he  able  to  crush  the 
other  entirely:  from  whence  it  followed,  that  both 
parties  were  kept  weak  by  the  war,  and  neither  were 
in  a  condition  to  form  any  enterprises  against  the 
Persian  empire. 

Upon  L\  Sander's  being  apprized,  therefore,  of  the 
arrival  of  Cyrus  at  Sardis,  he  set  out  from  Kphesus  to 
make  him  a  visit,  and  to  complain  of  the  delays  and 
breach  of  faith  of  Tissaphernes,  who,  notwithstanding 
the  orders  he  had  received  to  support  the  Lacedaemo- 
nian', and  to  drive  the  Athenians  from  the  sea,  hail 
always  covertly  favoured  the  latter,  out  of  regard  for 
A'cibiades,  to  whom  he  was  entirely  devoted,  and  had 
been  the  sole  cause  of  the  loss  of  the  fleet,  by  not 
supplying  it  with  the  necessary  quantity  of  provisions. 
This  discourse  pleased  Cyrus,  who  looked  upon  Tis- 
saphernes  as  a  very  bad  man,  and  his  particular  ene- 
my. And  he  answered,  that  the  king  had  given  him 
orders  to  support  the  Lacedasmonians  powerfully,  and 
that  he  had  received  500  talents  for  that  purpose.* 
Lvsander,  contrary  to  the  common  character  of  the 
Spartans,  was  submissive  and  condescending,  full  of 
complaisance  to  the  great,  always  ready  to  pay  his 
court  to  them,  and  snp[>orting,  for  the  good  of*  the 
service,  all  the  weight  of  their  haughtiness  and  vanity 
with  incredible  patience;  in  which  behaviour  some 
people  make  the  chief  address  and  principal  merit  of 
a  courtier  to  consist. 

He  did  not  forget  himself  on  this  occasion,  and 
setting  at  work  all  that  the  industry  and  art  of  n  com- 
plete courtiercould  suggest  of  flattery  and  insinuation, 
he  perfectly  gained  the  young  prince's  favour  nnd 
good  opinion.  After  having  praised  his  generosity, 
magnificence,  and  teal  for  th«  Lacedaemonians,  he  de- 
sired him  to  give  each  soldicrand  mariner  a  drachma* 
per  day;  in  order  to  corrupt  those  of  the  enemy  by 
that  means,  and  thereby  terminate  the  war  the  sooner. 
Cyrus  very  much  approved  the  project;  but  said,  he 
could  make  no  change  in  the  king  s  order,  and  that 
the  treaty  with  them  expressly  settled  only  half  a 
talent*  to  be  paid  monthly  for  each  galley.  The 
prince,  however,  at  the  end  of  the  banquet  which  he 
gave  him  before  his  departure,  drinking  to  his  health, 
and  pressing  him  to  ii"k  something  of  him,  Lvsander 
desired  that  an  obolus*  a  day  might  be  added  to  the 
seamen's  pay.  This  was  granted,  and  he  gave  them 

•  Five  hundred  thousand  crowns,  about  112.500Z  Merlinj. 

•  Ten-pence. 

4  One  thousand  fire  hundred  livret,  about  1I2/  sterling. 

•  The  drachma  wan  «ix  ohnli,  or  ten  pence  French  ;  eacJI 
obolin  being  wimethin;  abore  three  linJf  7«nce  ;  tn  thit  the 
four  oboli  wai  >ix-pence  half-penny  a  day,  instead  of  fir*> 
pence,  or  three  obeli. 


340 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


four  oboli,  instead  of  three,  which  they  received  be- 
fore, and  paid  them  all  the  arrears  due  to  thtin,  with 
•  month's  advance;  giving  Lysander  10,000  daricks  ' 
for  that  purpose;  that  is  100,000  livres,  or  about  5000i. 
Sterling. 

This  largess  filled  the  whole  fleet  with  ardour  and 
elacritv,  and  almost  unmanned  the  enemy's  galleys; 
the  greatest  part  nf  the  mariners  deserting  to  that  side 
where  the  pay  was  best.  The  Athenians  in  despair 
upon  receiving  this  news,  endeavoured  to  conciliate 
Cyrus  by  the  interposition  of  Tissaphernes;  but  he 
would  not  hearken  to  them,  notwithstanding  that 
satrap  represented,  that  it  was  not  for  the  king's  in- 
terest to  aggrandize  the  Lacedaemonians,  but  to  bal- 
ance the  power  of  one  side  with  that  of  the  other, 
in  order  to  perpetuate  the  war,  and  to  ruin  both  by 
their  own  divisions. 

Though  Lysander  had  considerably  weakened  the 
enemy,  by  augmenting  the  mariners'  pay,  and  thereby 
very  much  hurt  their  naval  power,  he  dared  not  how- 
ever hazard  a  battle  with  them,  particularly  dreading 
Alcibiades,  who  was  a  man  of  execution,  had  the 
greater  number  of  ships,  and  had  never  been  over- 
thrown in  any  battle,  either  by  sea  or  land.  But  after 
Alcibiades  had  left  Samos  to  go  into  PhoCcea  and 
Ionia,  to  raise  money  of  which  he  was  in  want,  for  the 
payment  of  his  troops,  and  had  given  the  command 
of  his  Meet  to  Antiuchus,  with  express  order  not  to 
fight  or  attack  the  enemy  in  his  absence;  the  new 
commander,  to  make  a  show  of  his  courage,  and  to 
brave  Lysander,  entered  the  port  of  F.phesus,  with  two 
gallrys,  and  after  having  made  a  great  noise,  retired 
with  loud  laughter,  and  an  air  of  contempt  and  insult. 
Lysander,  enraged  at  that  affront,  immediately  de- 
tached some  galleys,  and  went  himself  in  pursuit  of 
him.  But  as  the  Athenians  advanced  to  support  An- 
tiochus.  he  ordered  other  galleys  of  his  side  to  come, 
till  the  whole  fleet  arrived  by  little  and  little,  and  the 
engagement  became  general  on  both  sides.  Lysander 
gained  the  victory,  and  having-  taken  fifteen  of  the 
Athenian  galleys,  he  erected  a  trophy.  Alcihiadeg, 
on  his  rt  turn  to  Samos,  sailed  even  into  the  port  to 
otter  him  battle:  but  Lysander  was  contented  with 
his  victory,  and  did  not  think  proper  to  accept  it;  so 
that  he  retired  without  doing  uny  thing. 

Thrhs;,  buius  at  the  same  time, 
A.  M.  3598.  the  most  dangerous  enemy  he  had 
Ant.  J.  C.  406.  in  his  army,  left  the  camp,  and  went 
to  Athens  to  accuse  him.  To  in- 
flame his  enemies  in  the  city  the  more,  he  told  the 
people  in  a  full  assembly,  that  Alcibiades  had  entirely 
ruined  their  affairs,  and  the  navy,  by  the  licence  he 
had  introduced;  that  he  had  given  himself  up  to  the 
most  notorious  debauchees  and  drunkards,1  who,  from 
having  been  common  seamen,  were  now  the  only 
persons  in  credit  about  him;  that  he  abandoned  his 
whole  authority  to  them,  to  be  at  leisure  to  enrich 
himself  in  the  provinces,  and  to  plunge  himself  there 
into  intemperance  and  all  other  infamous  excesses,  to 
the  disgrace  of  Athens,  whilst  his  fleet  was  left  neg- 
lected in  the  face  of  that  of  the  enemy. 

Another  article  of  accusation  against  him  was  taken 
from  the  forts  he  had  built  near  the  city  of  Byzantium, 
for  an  a*\  lum  and  retreat  for  himself;  as  neither  being 
able  nor  willing  to  return  any  more  to  his  country. 
The  Athenians,  a  capricious,  inconstant  people,  gave 
credit  to  nil  these  imputations.  The  loss  of  the  last 
bnttle,  and  his  little  success  since  his  departure  from 
Athens,  instead  of  the  gnat  and  wonderful  actions 
expected  from  him,  entirely  sunk  him  in  their  opinions; 
and  his  own  glory  and  reputation  may  be  said  to  have 
OTa»inncd  his  ruin.  For  he  was  suspected  »f  not 
having  been  desirous  to  do  what  was  not  done,  which 
they  could  not  believe  out  of  his  power,  because  they 
were  fully  p<r«uaded,  that  nothing  he  desired  to  do 
was  impossible  to  him.  They  made  it  a  crime  in 
Alcihiades,  that  the  rapidity  of  his  conquests  did  not 
correspond  with  that  of  their  imaginations;  not  con- 
sidering that  he  made  war  without  money  upon  a 


people  who  had  the  great  king  for  their  trru*    n 

and  that  he  was  often  obliged  to  quit  his  c<ur>p,  i.   gf 

in  quest  of  what  was  necessary  for  the  paiim  n!    .no 

i  subsistence  of  his  troops.     However,  Alcibiade-i  was 

I  deposed,  and  It  n  generals  nominated  in  his  st'-a-i .  of 

which   when   he   received    advice,   he   retired   it.    his 

I  galley  to  some  castlt*  which  he  had  in  the  Thiacian 

Chf  ISOIHsUS. 

About  this  time  died  I'listonax,3  one  of  the  kingt 
of  Lacedttmonia,  and  was  succeeded  by  I'ausama* 
who  reigned  fourteen  years.  The  latter  made  H  line 
answer  to  one  who  asked,  why  it  was  not  per.uitted 
to  make  any  change  in  the  ancient  customs  ol  Sparta: 
Jttcause,  says  he,  nl  Sparta  Hit  laws  command  men, 
and  not  men  the  iuics.* 

Lysander,5  wiio  intended  to  establish  the  govern- 
ment of  the  nobility  in  all  the  cities  in  the  dependence 
of  Sparta,  that  the  governors  of  his  choosing  might  be 
always  at  his  disposal,  from  his  having  rtniu-itu  them 
independent  01  the  people,  caused  such  persons  as  he 
knew  to  be  the  boldest,  and  most  enterprising  a. id 
ambitious  among  the  principal  men  of  the  ciiits,  t> 
come  to  Kphesus.  These  he  placed  at  the  head  ot 
affairs,  promoted  to  the  greatest  honours,  and  raised 
to  the  first  employ  ments  of  the  army,  thereby  render 
ing  himself,  says  Plutarch,  the  accomplice  of  all  the 
crimes  and  oppressions  they  committed  to  advance 
and  enrich  themselves.  For  this  reason  th»y  were 
always  extremely  attached  to  him,  and  regretted  him 
infinitely,  when  Callicratidas  came  to  succetd  him, 
and  took  upon  him  the  command  of  the  fleet.  He  was 
not  inferior  to  Lysander  either  in  valour  or  military 
knowledge,  and  was  infinitely  above  him  in  point  of 
moral  virtue.  Alike  severe  to  himself  and  others, 
inaccessible  to  flattery  and  sloth,  the  declared  tntiuy 
of  luxury,  he  retained  the  modesty,  temperance,  and 
austerity  of  the  ancient  Spartans;  virtues  that  began 
to  distinguish  him  particularly,  as  they  were  not  too 
common  in  his  time.  His  probity  and  justice  were 
proof  against  all  things;  his  simplicity  and  integrity 
abhorred  nil  falsehood  and  fraud,  to  which  were  j,  med 
a  truly  Spartan  nobleness  and  grandeur  ol  soul.  The 
great  and  powerful  could  not  refrain  from  admiring 
his  virtue;  but  they  were  better  pleased  with  the  affa- 
bility and  condescension  of  hi*  predecessor,  who  was 
blind  to  the  injustice  and  violence  of  their  actions. 

It  was  not  without  mortification  and  jealousy,  that 
Lysander  saw  him  arrive  at  Ephesus  to  take  upon  hii.i 
the  command,  and  out  of  a  criminal  basent  ss  and 
treachery,  not  uncommon  with  those  who  hearken 
more  to  their  private  ambition  than  the  good  of  the 
public,  he  did  him  all  the  ill  offices  in  his  power.  Of 
the  10,000  daricks,  which  Cyrus  had  given  him  for 
the  augmentation  of  the  mariners'  pay,  he  returned 
the  remainder  to  that  prince;  telling  Callicratidas, 
that  he  might  apply  to  the  king  for  the  money,  and 
that  it  depended  on  him  to  find  means  for  the  subsist- 
ence of  the  army.  This  conduct  gave  him  great 
trouble,  and  distressed  him  exceedingly.  For  he  had 
brought  no  money  with  him  from  Sparta,  and  could 
not  resolve  to  e\tort  any  from  the  cities,  as  he  found 
them  sufficiently  rilled  already. 

In  this  urgent  necessity,6  a  person  having  offered 
him  fifty  talents  (that  is  to  say,  50.000  crowns)  to  ob- 
tain a  favour  which  he  could  not  grant  with  justice, 
he  refused  them.  Upon  which  Cleander,  one  of  his 
officers,  said,  /  would  accept  them,  were  I  in  your 
place.  And  to  would  I,  replied  the  general,  were  J 
in  yours. 

He  had  no  other  resource  therefore  than  to  go,  as 
Lysander  had  done,  to  ask  money  at  the  gates  of  the 
king's  generals  and  lieutenants,  tor  which  he  was  the 
least  proper  of  all  mankind.  Nurtured  and  educated 
in  the  love  of  liberty,  full  of  great  and  noble  senti- 
ments, and  infinitely  remote  from  all  flattery  and 
baseness,  he  was  convinced  at  heart,  that  it  was  a  less 
evil  and  dishonour  for  Greeks  to  be  overcome  by 


i  A  dnrick  is  about  ft  pittole. 

»  Ainiodiui  i*  pointed  at  in  this  place,  a  mon,  debauched 
man  who  nail  nrcjuirfd  the  favour  of  Alcibiadei  by  catching 
a  uuiil  To-  him.  which  he  had  let  fly. 


Diod. 


4'O 

*Vf 

•  X 

435,  . 
•PI 


fff  T»»  re/uur 


>ri  TOvf  ntftsv;    T»»    JvJp»».  «u  TO!  {    ttSpa 

if  i<  »«i  Jn.     Plut.  in  A|xiphth.  p.  2.TO. 

enoph.  Hpllen.  I.  i.  p.  442 — 444.    Plut.  in  Lytand.  p. 

1ft       n, — i    ..    i(yy    1QU 


436 


.^ . 

o.     Um<l   p.  197,  19S. 
>t.  in  Anopli.  p.  222. 


rERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


341 


Greeks,  than  infamously  to  make  their  court,  and  beg 
it  the  gntes  of  barbarians,  whose  only  merit  consisted 
fn  their  gold  and  silver.  The  whole  nation  were  in- 
deed disgraced  by  so  mean  a  prostitution. 

Cicero,  in  his  Offices,  draws  two  very  different 
characters  of  persons  employed  in  the  administration 
of  government,  and  makes  the  application  of  them  to 
the  two  generals  of  whom  we  speak.  The  one,  says 
he,1  zealous  lovers  of  truth,  and  declared  enemies  of 

•  II  fraud,  pique  themselves  upon  their  simplicity  and 
candour,  and  do  not  believe,  that  it  ever  can  be  con- 
liMent  with  honour,  to  lay  snares  or  use  artifice.    The 
others,  prepared  to  do  or  suffer  every  thing,  and   not 
•lhamed  of  the  meanest  actions,  provided  Irom  those 
unworthy  methods   they  have  reason  to  expect  the 
success  of  their  designs.     Cicero  places  Callicratidag 
amount  the  former,  and   Lysander  amongst  the  lat- 
ter, to  whom  he  gives  two  epithets,  not  much  to  his 
honour,  and   hardly  consistent  with  the  Spartan  cha- 
racter, when  he  calu  him  very  artful,  and  very  patient, 
or  rat  her  very  contftlaitant. 

Gallic  ratidas  however,  forced  by  necessity,  went 
tc  L\dia,  and  repaired  immediately  to  the  palace  of 
Cyni*,  where  he  desired  that  prince  might  be  told  that 
th'e  admiral  of  the  Grecian  fleet  was  come  to  speak 
with  him.  He  was  answered,  that  Cyrus  was  then  at 
table,  engaged  in  a  party  of  pleasure;*  to  which  he 
replied  with  a  modest  tone  and  air,  that  he  was  in  no 
haste,  and  would  wait  till  the  prince  came  forth.  The 
guards  set  up  a  laugh,  wondering  at  the  honest  stran- 
ger's simplicity,  who  seemed  so  little  acquainted  with 
the  world;  and  he  was  obliged  to  retire.  He  came 
thither  the  second  time,  and  was  again  denied  admit- 
tance. Upon  which  he  returned  to  Ephesus,  loaded 
those  with  curses  and  imprecations,  who  had  first 
made  their  court  to  Barbarian*,  and  by  their  flattery 
and  submissions  had  taught  them  to  make  their  riches 

•  title  and  pretence  for  Insulting  the  rest  of  mankind. 
Addressing  himself  at  the  same  time  to  those  about 
him,  he  swore  that  as  soon  as  he  returned  to  Sparta, 
he  woul.l  use  his  utmost  endeavours  to  reconcile  the 
Greeks  wmongst  themselves,  that  for  the  future  they 
mi;: tit  become  formiilable  to  the  Barbarians,  and  have 
no  farther  occasion  lor  their  aid  to  invade  and  ruin  each 
other.     But  that  generous  Spartan,  whose  thoughts 
were  so  noble,  and   so  worthy   the   Lacedaemonian 
name,  and   whose  justice,  magnanimity,  and  valour, 
mi°ht  rank  him  with  all  that  Greece  had  ever  pro- 
duced of  the  most  excellent  and  most  consummate, 
had  not  the  good  fortune  to  return  to  his  country,  nui- 
to  apply  himself  to  a  work  so  great,  and  so  worthy 
of  him. 

SECTION  V.  OALUCRATIDAS  IS  DEFEATED  EY 
THE  ATHENIANS  NEAR  THE  ARGINUSj:.  THE 
ATHENIANS  PASS  SENTENCE  OF  DEATH  UPON 
SEVERAL  OF  THEIR  GENERALS  FOR  NOT  HAVING 
BROUGHT  OFF  THE  BODIES  OF  THOSE  WHO  HAD 
BEEN  SI.AIN  IN  BATTLE.  SOCRATES  ALONE  HAS 
THE  COURAGE  TO  OPPOSE  SO  UNJUST  A  SEN- 
TENCE. 

CALI.ICRATIDAS,*  after  having  gained  several  vic- 
tories over  the  Athenians,  hud  at  last  pursued  Conon, 
one  of  their  generals,  into  the  port  of  Mitvlene,  where 
he  kept  him  blocked  up.  This  was  in  the  twenty- 
sixth  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  war.  Conon  seeing 
hiiii«t  If  besieged  by  sea  and  land,  without  hope  of  aid, 
ami  in  want  of  provisions,  found  means  to  apprize 
Athens  of  the  extreme  danger  he  was  in.  Extraor- 
dinary tfl'orts  were  made  to  relieve  him,  and  in  less 
than  a  month's  time  a  fleet  of  110  sail  were  fitted 

>  Sum  his  alii  mulium  dis|«»re».  •  irnplicm  et  aperti  ;  qoi 
nihil  ex  ocrultn,  mini  <>x  insidiif  agendum  putant ;  reritatii 
eult»rc«.  fraud  in  inimici :  itrmque  aiii.  qui  quidvin  pt-rpeti- 

•  iHur.    cnivis  di'M'rvi.int.  duin,  quod  vdmt.  ron*«-quantur. 
Quo   ii>   pent-re  vrrsutissimum  et   nnticntissimun   Lar.od»- 
omnium    LysanHrum   accepimus,  contraque   Callicrutidum. 
CJfif   :.  i   n!  101. 

•  The  Greek  »ny«  literally  that  he  WM  drinking,  wim. 
'"hr1  Frisians  valnid  '.henist  ivrs  u|>on  drinkin;:  a  jreat  deal, 
M  a->  iu<tan-«  of  tli-n'r  .ne'il,  as  we  tliall  »ce  in  Cyrun'f  lei- 
«RI  to  '.'at  lja<-?dfrr.io'.iar<. 

«><".o,t>  PdVp.  J.  t.  p.444— 452.  Diod.  l.xiii.  p.  196  and 
Ml  awf.il/--Za. 


out,  on  board  of  which  were  embarked  all  that  were 
capable  of  bearing  arms,  as  will  slaves  as  freemen, 
with  some  horse.  At  Samos  they  were  joined  by  tne 
allies  with  forty  galleys,  and  the  collected  armament 
steered  for  the  Argiuusx,  islands  situate  between 
Cumas  and  Mitylene.  Callicrntidas,  being  informed 
of  their  course,"  left  Eteonicus  to  continue  the  fiege 
with  fifty  ships,  and  put  td  sea  with  120  sail,  with 
design  to  face  the  enemy,  and  prevent  their  relieving 
Conon.  The  right  wing  of  the  Athenians  was  com- 
manded by  Protomachus  and  Thrasylus,  who  had  each 
fifteen  galleys.  They  were  supported  by  a  second  line 
with  a  like  number  of  ships,  commanded  by  Lysias  and 
Aristogenes.  The  left  wing,  like  the  other,  drawn  up 
in  two  lines,  was  under  Anstocrates  and  Diomedon, 
supported  bj  Erasinides  and  Pericles.'  The  main 
body,  consisting  of  near  thirty  galleys,  amongst  which 
were  the  three  Athenian  admirals,  was  disposed  in 
one  line.  They  had  strengthened  each  of  their  wings 
with  a  second  line;  because  their  galleys  were  neithei 
so  swift,  nor  so  easy  to  manage  as  those  of  the  enemy; 
so  that  there  was  reason  to  fear  their  getting  between 
two,  and  being  charged  on  both  sides  at  the  same 
time.  The  Lacedaemonians  and  their  allies,  who  per- 
ceived they  were  inferior  in  number  to  the  enemr, 
contented  themselves  with  drawing  up  in  one  line,  in 
order  to  equal  their  front,  and  for  the  greater  facility 
of  running  between  the  Athenian  galleys,  and  turning 
nimbly  round  them.  Callicratidas's  pilot,  daunted  at 
the  inequality,  advised  him  not  to  hazard  the  battle, 
and  to  retire:  but  he  replied,  that  he  could  not  lly 
without  shame,  and  that  his  death  was  of  small  im- 
portance to  the  republic.  "  Sparta,"  said  he,  "  doet 
not  depend  upon  one  man."  He  commanded  the  right 
wing,  and  Thrasondas  the  Theban  the  left. 

It  was  a  grand  and  awful  sight  to  behold  the  set 
eovtred  with  300  galleys  ready  to  engage.  Never  had 
more  numerous  naval  armies  of  the  Greeks  fought 
against  each  other  before.  The  ability,  experience 
and  valour  of  the  generals  who  commanded,  left 
nothing  to  desire;  so  that  there  was  reason  to  believe 
this  battle  would  decide  the  fate  of  both  people,  and 
put  an  end  to  a  war  that  had  endured  so  long.  When 
the  signals  were  given,  the  two  armies  raised  great 
shouts,  and  began  to  fight.  Callicrattdas,  who  from 
the  answer  of  the  augurs  expected  to  fall  in  the  bs)t- 
tle,  did  amazing  actions  of  valour.  He  attacked  the 
enemy  with  incredible  courage  and  boldness,  sunk 
some  of  their  ships,  disabled  others  by  breaking  their 
oars  and  piercing  their  sides  with  the  prow  or  beak  of 
his  galley.  At  length  he  attacked  that  of  Pericles, 
and  made  a  thousand  holes  in  it:  but  the  latter  having 
hooked  him  fast  with  a  grappling-iron,  he  found  it 
impossible  to  disengasre  himself,  and  was  surrounded 
in  an  instant  by  several  of  the  Athenian  vessels.  Hit 
own  was  immediately  filled  with  the  enemy,  and  after 
a  dreadful  slaughter,  he  fell  dead,  rather  overwhelmed 
by  their  numbers  than  vanquished.  The  right  wing 
which  he  commanded,  having  lost  its  admiral,  was 
put  to  flight.  The  left,  composed  of  Boeotians  and 
F.ulxtans,  still  made  a  long  and  vigorous  resistance, 
from  the  urgent  concern  they  were  in,  lest  they  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Athenian",  against  whom 
they  had  revolted;  but  they  were  at  length  obliged 
to  give  way,  and  retire  in  disorder.  The  Athenians 
erected  .1  trophy  in  the  Arginusas.  They  lost  twenty- 
five  galleys  in  this  battle,  and  the  enemy  more  than 
seventy,  of  which  number  were  nine  of  the  ten  fur- 
nished by  the  Lacedaemonians. 

Plutarch  z  equals  Callicratidas,  the  Lacedaemonian 
general,  for  his  justice,  valour,  and  magnanimity,  with 
all  who  had  ever  rendered  themselves  most  worthjr 
of  admiration  among  the  Greeks. 

He  blames  him  however  exceedingly,  for  hazarding 
the  battle  at  the  Arginusie,8  and  observes,  that  to 
avoid  the  reproach  of  having  retired  out  of  fear,  he 
had,  through  a  mistaken  sense  of  honour,  failed  in  the 
essential  duty  of  hi«  function.  For,  savs  Plutarch,  if 
(to  use  the  comparison  oflphicrates*)  the  light-armed 


He  wa§  the  *nn  of  the  erett  Pericle*. 
i  Plut.  in  I.v«nnd.  n  436. 
•  Plut.  in  Pplop.  p.  278. 
«H    WM  a  famuot  general  of  the  Albci 
2  D2 


342 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


infantry  resemble  the  hands,  the  horse  the  feet,  the 
main  body  the  breast,  and  the  general  the  head;  the 
general  who  abandons  himself  rashl/  to  the  iir.petu- 
osity  of  his  valour,  does  not  *o  much  neglect  or  ex- 
pose his  own  life,  as  the  lives  of  those  whose  safety 
depends  upon  his.  Our  Lacedaemonian  chief  was 
therefore  in  the  wrong,  continues  Plutarch,  to  answer 
the  pilot,  who  ad»  ised  htm  to  retiie,  Spurta  does  not 
depend  upon  one  man.  For  though  it  be  true  that 
Callicratidas,  fighting  under  the  orders  of  another  by 
gea  or  land,  was  no  more  than  one  man,  yet,  when 
commanding  an  army,  all  that  obeyed  his  orders  were 
collected  in  his  person;  and  he,  in  wlioni  so  many 
thousands  might  be  lost,  was  no  longer  one  man. 
Cicero'  had  passed  the  same  judgment  upon  him 
before,  Plutarch.  After  having  said,  that  there  were 
many  persons  to  be  found,  who  were  ready  to  sacrifice 
their  fortunes  and  even  liv.es  for  their  country,  but 
who  out  of  a  false  delicacy  in  point  of  glory  would  not 
hazard  their  reputation  for  it  in  the  least;  he  cites 
the  example  of  Callicratidas,  who  answered  those 
that  advised  him  to  retreat  from  the  Arginusse,  "That 
Sparta  could  fit  out  another  Heel  if  this  were  lost; 
but  for  himself,  he  could  not  fly  before  the  enemy 
without  shame  and  infamy." 

I  return  to  the  sequel  of  the  battle  near  the  Argi- 
nns;e.  The  Athenian  generals  ordered  Theramenes, 
Thrasybulus.  and  some  other  officers,  to  return  with 
about  fifty  galleys  to  take  up  the  wrecks  and  dead 
bodies,  in  order  to  their  interment,  whilst  they  sailed 
on  with  the  rest  against  Eteonicus,  -Jvho  kept  Conon 
besieged  before  Mityltne.  But  a  violent  tempest 
came  on  suddenly,  and  prevented  the  execution  of 
this  order.  Eteoiwcus  having  received  news  of  the 
defeat,  and  fearing  it  might  occasion  alarm  and  terror 
among  the  troops,  sent  back  those  who  brought  it, 
with  orders  to  return  with  wreaths  of  flowers  upon 
their  heads,  and  to  give  out  that  Callicratidas  had 
g'ained  the  victory,  and  destroyed  the  whole  Athenian 
fleet.  Upon  their  return,  he  offered  sacrifices  of 
thanksgiving,  and  having  made  his  troops  take  some 
refreshment,  he  sent  the  galleys  awav  direct!}',  the 
wind  being  fair,  and  marched  off  the  land  army  to 
Methymna,. after  having  burned  the  ramp.  Conon 
being  delivered  in  this  manner  from  the  blockade, 
joined  the  victorious  fleet,  which  returned  forthwith 
to  Samos.  However,  when  it  was  known  at  Athens, 
that  the  dead  bodies  had  been  left  without  interment, 
the  people  were  highly  enrag/ed,  and  caused  the  whole 
weight  of  their  resentment  to  fall  upon  those  whom 
they  deemed  guilty  of  that  crime.  The  ancients  held 
it  a  great  one  not  to  provide  sepulture  for  the  dead; 
and  we  may  observe,  that  after  all  their  battles,  the 
first  care  ol  the  conquered,  notwithstanding  the  sense 
of  their  misfortune,  and  their  great  affliction  for  a 
bloody  defeat,  was  to  demand  a  suspension  of  arms 
from  the  victor,  in  order  to  pay  the  last  duties  to  those 
who  had  fallen  in  battle;  upon  which  they  believed 
their  happiness  in  another  life  depended.  They  had 
little  or  no  idea  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body;  but 
however,  tiie  Pagans,  by  the  soul's  concern  for  the 
body  after  death,  the  religious  regard  paid  to  it,  and 
the  leal  with  which  they  rendered  solemn  honours  to 
the  dead,  showed  that  they  had  some  confused  notion 
of  a  resurrection,  which  subsisted  among  all  nations, 
and  descended  from  the  most  ancient  tradition, though 
they  could  not  clearly  distinguish  it. 

Hence  arose  the  fury  of  the.  people  of  Athens.  They 
immediately  nominated  new  generals,  retaining  only 
Conon  ot  the  old  ones,  to  whom  they  gave  Adimantus 
and  Philorles  for  colleagues.  Ot"  the  eight  others, 
two  had  withdrawn  themselves,  and  onlv  six  returned 
to  Athens.  Theramenes,  the  tenth  general,  who  re- 

i  Invcnli  mulli  hunt,  qni  non  mndS  pecuninm,  sed  vilsm 
etiam,  profunilurn  pro  patriri  purnti  ersi-nt,  iidcrn  florin' 
jncluram  nc  minimum  r|uiili>m  fhoi-ro  vrllcm.  nc  repuhlira 
<|iiu!<  m  nostulunte:  ut  ('iillirrntidui,  i|ui,  ciitn  Laccdtcmo 
iiiorum  (lu.x  fuissct  Pelopiwneliaco  h-'llo.  mulluc|ue  fccisset 
cpn-cie,  vi-riit.  nd  extmnum  omnin,  ciiui  connilio  non  pnruit 
enruni.  iitii  r.lifafin  al>  Arginiigi*  rtimovemlnm,  nor  rum 
Ailiriiii-nsiliiis  ilimicandum  putalmnt.  Unilnjv  ille  rfspnnitit 
Laoeilipnioninn,  rlassc  ilia  umissa,  aliam  parare  posse,  «ie 
fugHre  sine  suu  dedecoru  non  posge.  Offie.  1.  i.  n.  48. 


turned  before  the  rest  of  the  fleet,  accused  the  otlwt 
chiefs  before  the  people,  making  them  responsible  fo» 
not  bringing  off  the  dead  after  the  battle;  and  10  clear 
himself,  read  the  letter  they  had  written  to  the  senate 
and  the  people,  wherein  they  excused  themstlve* 
from  the  violence  ol  the  storm,  without  charging  any 
body.  There  was  something  detet-tably  vile  in  this 
calumny,  as  it  was  making  an  unjust  use  of  thtir  re- 
serve in  not  mentioning  him  in  their  letter,  and  in  not 
laying  a  fault  to  his  charge,  of  which  lie  might  have 
appeared  the  most  guilty.  The  generals  at  their  re- 
turn, not  being  able  to  prevail  in  obtaining  the  time 
necessary  for  making  their  defence  contented  them- 
selves with  representing  in  feiv  words  the  state  of  the 
affair,  and  appealed  for  the  truth  of  what  t*iey  said  to 
the  pilots,  and  all  present  when  it  happened.  The 
people  seemed  to  receive  their  excuse  favourably,  ano 
several  persons  offered  themselves  for  their  sureties; 
but  it  was  thought  proper  to  adjourn  the  assembly 
because  of  the  night,  and  it  being  the  people's  custom 
to  give  their  suffrages  b)'  liftirg  up  of  hands,  their 
resolution  could  not  be  known;  besides  which  the 
council  were  first  to  give  their  opinion  upon  the  ques- 
tion to  be  proposed  to  the  people. 

The  feast  of  Apaturia  coming  on,  in  which  it  was 
the  custom  to  assemble  by  families,  the  relations  of 
Theramenes  posted  several  persons  in  mourning  hab- 
its, with  their  heads  shaved,  in  proper  places,  who 
said  they  were  the  kindred  of  those  who  had  been 
slain  in  battle,  and  obliged  Callixenes  to  accuse  the 
generals  in  the  senate.  It  was  decreed  in  conse- 
quence, that  as  the  accusation  find  defence  had  been 
heard  in  the  last  assembly,  the  people  by  their  re- 
spective tribes  should  give  their  voices,  and  if  the 
accused  were  found  guilty,  they  should  be  punished 
with  death,  their  estates  confiscated,  and  the  tenth 
part  consecrated  to  the  goddess.2  Some  senators 
opposed  this  decree  as  unjust,  and  contrary  to  the 
laws:  but  as  the  people,  at  the  instigation  ol  Cal'.ix- 
enes,  threatened  to  include  the  opposers  in  the  same 
cause  and  crime  with  the  generals,  they  were  so  mean 
as  to  desist  from  their  opposition,  and  to  sacrifif  e  the 
innocent  generals,  to  their  own  safety,  by  consenting 
to  the  decree.  Socrates  (the  celebrated  philosopher) 
was  the  only  one  of  the  senators  that  stood  firm,  and 
persisted  obstinately  in  opposing  a  decree  so  notori- 
ously unjust,  and  so  contrary  to  all  laws.  The  orator, 
who  mounted  the  tribunal  in  defence  of  the  generals, 
showed,  "That  they  had  failed  in  no  part  of  their 
duty,  as  they  had  given  orders  that  the  dead  bodies 
should  be  taken  up:  that  if  any  one  were  guilty,  it 
was  he  who,  being  charged  with  these  orders,  had 
neglected  to  put  them  in  execution;  but  that  he  ac- 
cused nobody:  and  that  the  tempest,  which  came  on 
unexpectedly  at  the  -very  instant,  was  an  unanswera- 
ble apology,  and  entirely  discharged  the  accused  from 
all  guilt.  He  demanded,  that  a  whole  day  should  be 
allowed  them  to  make  their  defence,  a  favour  not 
denied  to  the  most  criminal,  and  that  they  should  be 
tried  separately.  He  represented,  that  they  were  not 
in  the  least,  obliged  to  precipitate  a  sentence,  wherein 
the  lives  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  citizens  were 
concerned;  that  it  was  in  some  measure  attacking  the 
gods  to  make  men  responsible  for  the  winds  and 
weather:3  and  that  they  could  not  without  the  most 
flagrant  ingratitude  and  injustice,  put  the  conqueror* 
to  death,  to  whom  they  ought  to  decree  crowns  and 
honours,  or  give  up  the  defenders  of  thtir  country  to 
the  rasre  of  those  who  envied  them;  and  if  they  did 
so,  their  unjust  judgment  would  be  followed  with  a 
sudden  but  vain  repentance,  which  would  leave  in 
their  hearts  the  sharpest  remorse,  and  cover  them  with 
eternal  shame  and  infamy."  The  people  teemed  at 
first  to  be  moved  with  these  reasons;  but  being  ani- 
mated by  the  accusers,  they  pronounced  sentence  of 
death  against  the  eight  generals;  and  six  of  (hem. 
who  were  present,  were  seized  in  order  to  their  being 
carried  to  execution.  One  of  them,  Diomedon,  f 
person  of  great  reputation  for  his  valour  and  probity 


»  Minerva. 

»  Quern  ndeo  iniquum.  ut  iceleri  assigned,  quod  venti  «4 
fluctus  duliqucrint  7    'J'acit.  Jinnal.  \.  xiv   r   I 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


343 


demanded  to  be  heard. — "  Athenians,"  said  he,  "I 
wish  the  sentence  you  have  passed  upon  us  may  not 
prove  the  misfortune  of  the  republic;  but  I  have  one 
favour  to  ask  of  you  in  behalf  of  my  colleagues  and 
oryself,  which  is,  to  acquit  us  before  the  gods  of  the 
rows  we  made  to  them  for  you  and  ourselves,  as  we 
ire  not  in  a  condition  to  discharge  them;  for  it  is  to 
their  protection,  invoked  before  the  battle,  we  ac- 
knowledge that  we  are  indebted  for  the  victory  gained 
by  us  over  the  enemy."  There  was  not  one  good  citi- 
ten  that  did  not  melt  into  tears  at  this  discourse,  so 
full  of  mildness  and  religion,  and  admire  with  sur- 
prise the  moderation  of  a  person,  who  seeing  himself 
unjustly  condemned,  did  not  however  vent  the  least 
harsh  expression,  or  even  complaint,  against  his 
judges,  but  was  solely  intent  (in  favour  of  an  ungrate- 
ful country,  which  had  doomed  them  to  perish)  upon 
what  it  owed  the  gods  in  common  with  them  for  the 
victory  they  had  lately  obtained. 

The  six  generals  were  hardly  executed  when  the 
people  opened  their  eyes,  and  perceived  all  the  hor- 
ror of  that  sentence;  but  their  repentance  could  not 
rrstore  the  dead  to  life.  Callixenes,  their  accuser, 
was  put  in  prison,  and  was  not  allowed  to  be  heard. 
Having  found  means  to  make  his  escape,  he  fled  to 
Decelia  to  the  enemy,  from  whence  he  returned  some 
time  alter  to  Athens,  where  he  died  of  hunger,  uni- 
versally detested  and  abhorred  by  nil  the  world,  as  all 
false  accusers  and  slanderers  ought  to  be.  Diodorus 
remarks,  that  the  people  themselves  were  justly 
punished  for  their  crime  by  the  gods,  who  abandoned 
them  soon  after,  not  to  a  single  master,  but  to  thirty 
tyrant^,  that  treated  them  with  the  utmost  rigour  and 
cruelty. 

The  disposition  of  the  populace  is  recognised  in  thh 
account;1  and  Plato,  upon  the  same  event,  draws  in 
few  words  their  character  with  much  spirit  and  re- 
semblance. The  populace,2  says  he,  is  an  inconstant, 
ungrateful,  cruel,  suspicious  animal,  incapable  of  sub- 
mitting to  the  government  of  reason;  and  this  is  no 
wonder,  adds  he,  as  it  is  commonly  composed  of  the 
dregs  of  a  city,  and  is  R  monstrous  assemblage,  with- 
out form  or  order,  of  all  that  is  worst  in  it. 

The  same  relation  shows  what  effect  fear  can  have 
jpon  the  minds  of  men,  even  upon  those  wh»  pass  for 
the  wisest,  and  how  few  t.iere  are,  who  are  capable  of 
supporting  inflexibly  the  view  of  present  danger  and 
disgrace.  Though  'the  justice  of  the  accused  gene- 
rals' cause  was  perfectly  known  in  the  senate,  at  least 
by  the  greater  part  of  it;  as  soon  as  the  people's  rage 
was  mentioned,  and  the  terrible  menaces  they  mur- 
mured, those  grave  senators,  most  of  whom  had  com- 
manded armies,  and  who  all  had  frequently  exposed 
themselves  to  the  greatest  dangers  of  war,  instantly 
changed  sides,  and  came  over  to  the  most  notorious 
calumnr,  and  flagrant  injustice,  that  ever  had  being: 
an  evident  proof,  that  there  is  a  courage,  though  very 
rare,  which  infinitely  transcends  that  valour,  which 
induces  so  many  thousands  of  men  every  day  to  con- 
front the  most  terrible  dangers  in  battle. 

Amongst  all  the  judges,  one  alone,  truly  worthy  of 
his  reputation,  the  great  Socrates,  in  this  general 
treason  and  perfidy,  stood  firm  and  immoveable;  and 
though  he  knew  his  suffrage  and  unaided  voice  would 
be  of  little  or  no  consequence  to  the  accused,  he 
thougt.t  these  an  homage  due  to  oppressed  innocence, 
and  that  it  was  unworthy  an  honest  man*  to  sutler 
himself,  through  a  base  fear,  to  be  hurried  away  by  the 
fury  of  a  blind  and  frantic,  people.  We  see  in  this 
instance  how  far  the  cause  of  justice  may  be  aban- 
doned. \Ve  may  conclude  it  was  not  better  defended 
before  the  people.  Of  more  than  3000  citizens,  who 
composed  the  assembly,  two  Only  took  upon  them  the 
defence  of  their  generals,  Ruriptolemns  and  Axiochus. 
Pluto  has  preserved  their  names,  and  given  that  of 
the  litter  to  tfie  dialogue,  from  whence  part  of  these 
reflections  are  taken. 


Pint,  in  Axioch.  p.  3GP,  3C.9. 
OJ   -yif  .faiuro  p;t  rifi»ct 


The  same  year  the  battle  o(  Ar- 

ginus<e  was  fought,  Dionysius  pos-  A.  M.  3598. 

sessed    himself  of   the    tyranny  ia        Ant.  J   C.  406. 
Sicily.     I  shall   defer   speaking  of 
him  till  I  relate  the  history  of  the  tyra.it!  of  Syracuse 
at  large. 

SECTION  VI. — LYSANDER  COMMANDS  THE  I.ACE- 
D.EMOMAN  FLEET.  CYRUS  IS  RECALLED  TO 
COURT  BY  HIS  FATHER.  LYSANDER  GAINS  A 
CELEHRATED  VICTORY  OVER  THE  HENIAN3  AT 
JEGUSPOTAMOS. 

AFTER  the  defeat  at  the  Arginu- 

sae,4  the  affairs  of  the  Peloponnesians  A.  M.  3599. 

declining,  the  allies,  supported  by  Ant.  J.  C.  411. 
the  credit  of  Cyrus,  sent  an  embas- 
sy to  Sparta,  to  demand  that  the  command  of  the  fleet 
should  again  be  given  to  Lysander,  with  the  promise 
of  serving  with  more  affection  and  courage  if  their 
request  were  granted.  As  it  was  contrary  to  the  laws 
of  Sparta  that  the  same  person  should  be  twice  admi- 
ral, the  Lacedaemonians,  to  gratify  the  allies,  gave  the 
title  of  admiral  to  one  Arams,  and  sent  Lysander 
with  him,  whom  in  appearance  they  commissioned 
only  as  vice-admiral,  though  in  effect,  they  invested 
him  with  all  the  authority  of  the  supreme  command. 

All  those  who  had  the  greatest  share  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  cities,  and  possessed  the  most  authority 
in  them,  saw  him  arrive  with  extreme  joy;  promising 
themselves,  from  his  influence,  the  final  subversion  o? 
the  democratic  power.  His  character  of  complaisance 
towards  his  friends,  and  indulgen  °.  to  all  their  faults, 
suited  much  better  their  ambk.ou*  and  injurious 
views,  than  the  austere  equity  of  Callicratidas.  For 
Lysander  was  a  niun  of  the  most  corrupt  heart,  and 
gloried  in  having  no  principles  on  the  score  of  virtue 
or  the  most  sacred  duties.  He  made  no  scruple  to 
employ  artifice  and  deceit  upon  all  occasions,  and 
esteemed  justice  only  as  far  as  it  served  his  measures. 
When  it  did  not  promote  them,  he  never  failed  to 
prefer  the  useful,  which  with  him  was  alone  the  laud- 
able and  excellent;  from  a  persuasion  that  truth  had 
in  its  own  nature  no  advantage  over  falsehood,  and 
that  the  value  of  both  one  and  the  other  was  to  be 
appreciated  by  the  convenience  resulting  from  then). 
And  as  to  those  who  represented  to  him,  that  it  was 
unworthy  the  descendants  of  Hercules  to  make  us* 
of  fraud  and  treachery,  he  laughed  at  them;  "For," 
said  he,  "where  the  lioit's  skin  is  not  long  enough,  it 
is  necessary  to  tack  the  fox's  tail  to  it." 

An  expression  ascribed  to  him  sufficiently  denotes 
how  small  an  account  he  made  of  perjury.  He  used 
to  say.  Children  are  amused  with  baubles  and  men 
with  oaths;6  showing  by  so  professed  a  want  of  reli- 
gion, that  he  cared  less  for  the  gods  than  his  enemies. 
For  he  who  deceives  with  a  false  oath,  plainly  de- 
clares, in  so  doing,  that  he  fears  his  enemies,  but  that 
he  despises  God. 

Here  ends  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  the  Peloponne- 
sian  war.6  In  this  year  it  was,  that  the  younger  Cyrus, 
dazzled  with  the  splendour  of  supreme  authority,  to 
which  he  had  been  little  accustomed,  and  jealous  of 
the  least  omission  in  point  of  ceremonial  homage,  dis- 
covered by  a  remarkable  action  the  secret  of  hi»  heart. 
Brought  up  from  his  infancy  among  the  reigning 
family,  nurtured  under  the  shade  of  the  throne,  amidst 
the  submissions  and  prostrations  of  the  courtiers, 
entertained  long  by  the  discourses  of  an  ambitious 
mother,  that  idolized  him,  in  the  desire  and  hope  of 
empire,  he  began  already  to  exert  the  rights  of  sov- 
ereignty, and  to  exact  the  honours  paid  to  it  with 
«urpris'u,g  haughtiness  and  rigour.  Two  Persians  of 
the  royal  family,  his  cousin-germans  by  their  mother, 
sister  of  his  father  Darius,  had  omitted  to  cover  their 
hands  with  their  sleeves  in  hi*  presence,  according  to 


•  Xonoph.  Hellen.  1.  ii.  p.  454.     Plut.  in  I,y«.  I.  ix.  p.  436, 
437.     Dim).  1.  xiii.  |).<K!3. 

•  Th.-  Greek  text  admit*  of  another  sense,  wliii-h  is  |*T- 
hup*   equally  "nod  :    Children  may  use   art   and  cheat  OKI 
ani'thtr  in  their  fames,  and  men  in  their  oalh.i.     *Exi».ivi 
rfj;  /i.v  «•»,'£»{   «<rTj>ay-*A.o<!,  T«uf  f  iitSf*;  #f>xoi(   •£•»»• 

•  Xcnophon.  Hellen  I.  ii.  p.  454. 


344 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


ceremonial  observed  onlj  towards  the  king*  of  Per- 
lia.  Cvrns  resented  that  neglect  as  a  capital  crime, 
londenined  them  both  to  die,  and  caused  them  to  be 
executed  at  Sardis  without  mercy.  Darius,  at  whose 
feet  their  relations  threw  themselves  to  demand  jus- 
tin  ,  was  very  much  affected  with  the  tragical  end  of 
hi*  two  nephews,  and  looked  upon  this  action  of  his 
ton's  as  HO  attempt  upon  himself,  to  whom  alone  that 
honour  was  due.  He  resolved  therefore  to  take  his 
government  from  him,  and  ordered  him  to  court  upon 
{lie  pretext  of  being  sick,  and  having  a  desire  to  see 
aim. 

Cvrus,  before  his  departure,  sent  for  Lysander  to 
Sard  is,  and  put  into  his  hands  great  sums  of  money 
for  the  payment  of  his  Meet,  promising  him  still  more 
for  the  future.  And  with  the  ostentation  of  a  voung 
nian,  to  let  him  see  how  much  he  desired  to  oblige 
him,  he  assured  him,  that  though  the  king  his  father 
should  cease  to  afford  him  any  supplies,  he  would 
furni-h  him  the  more  willingly  out  of  his  own  coffers, 
and  that  rather  than  he  should  want  the  necessary 
provisions,  he  would  even  cause  the  throne  of  massy 
{jold  and  silver,  upon  which  he  sat  to  administer 
justice,  to  be  melted  down.  At  length,  when  he  was 
upon  the  point  of  setting  outf  he  empowered  him  to 
receive  the  tributes  and  revenues  of  the  cities,  con- 
fided the  government  of  his  provinces  to  him,  and 
embracing  him,  conjured  him  not  to  give  battle  in  his 
absence,  unless  superior  in  force;  because  the  king 
neither  wanted  the  will  nor  the  power  to  give  him  that 
superiority  over  the  enemy;  promising,  at  the  same 
time,  with  the  strongest  assurances  of  affection,  to 
bring  him  a  great  number  of  ships  from  Phoenicia  and 
Cilicia. 

After  that  prince's  departure,'  Lysander  sailed 
towards  the  Hellespont,  and  laid  siege  to  Lampsacu?, 
Thorax,  having  marched  thither  with  his  land  forces 
at  the  same  time,  assaulted  the  city  on  his  side.  The 
place  was  carried  by  storm,*  and  abandoned  bv  Ly- 
sander to  the  soldiers.  The  Athenians,  who  folfowed 
him  close,  came  to  an  anchor  in  the  port  of  Eleontum 
in  the  Chersonesus,  with  180  gallevs.  But  upon  the 
news  of  the  taking  of  Lampsacus,"  they  immediately 
steered  for  Sestos,  and  after  having  taken  in  provi- 
sions, they  stood  away  from  thence,  sailing  along  the 
coast  to  a  place  called  jEgospotamos,*  where  they 
halted  over  against  the  enemy,  who  were  then  a't 
anchor  before  Lampsacus.  The  Hellespont  is  not 
above  2000  paces  broad  in  that  place.  The  two  armies, 
seeing  themselves  so  near  each  other,  expected  only 
to  rest  that  day,  and  were  in  hopes  of  coming  to  a 
Dattle  on  the  next. 

But  Lvsander  had  another  design  in  view.  He 
commanded  the  seamen  and  pilots  to  go  on  board 
their  galleys,  as  if  they  were  in  reality  to  fight  the 
next  morning  at  break  of  day,  to  hold  themselves  in 
readiness,  and  to  wait  his  orders  with  profound 
silence.  He  ordered  the  land  army  in  like  manner  to 
draw  up  in  battle  upon  the  coast,  and  to  wait  the  day 
without  any  noise.  On  the  morrow,  as  soon  as  the 
sun  was  risen,  the  Athenians  began  to  row  towards 
them  with  their  whole  fleet  in  one  line  and  to  bid  them 
defiance.  Lysander,  though  his  ships  were  ranged 
in  order  of  battle,  with  their  heads  towards  the  enemy, 
lay  still  without  making  any  movement.  In  the  fe- 
ning,  when  the  Athenians  Withdrew,  he  did  not  sutler 
bi»  soldiers  to  go  ashore,  till  two  or  three  galleys, 
which  he  had  sent  out  to  observe  them,  were  return'ed 
with  advice,  that  they  had  seen  the  enemy  land.  The 
next  day  passed  in  the  same  manner,  as  did  the  third 
and  fourth.  Such  a  conduct,  which  argued  reserve 
and  apprehension,  extremely  augmented  the  security 
and  boldness  of  the  Athenians,  and  inspired  them 
with  a  sovereign  contempt  for  an  army,  which  fear, 
in  their  opinion,  prevented  from  showing  themselves, 
and  flt'empting  any  thing. 

Whilst  this  passed,  Alcibiades,  who  was  near  the 
fleet,  took  horse,  and  came  to  the  Athenian  generals; 


i   XVnojilion.  Ilellen.  1.  ii   p   455—  45& 
•  Plut.  in  I.vs   p.  437  it  44f.     Id.  in  Alcib  p. 
.  xiii.  p.  225,  '.W. 
t  The  livr.i  of  the  Goat. 


212.     Diod. 


to  whom  he  represented,  that  they  kept  upon  a  veij 
disadvantageous  coast,  where  there  were  neither  ports 
nor  cities  in  the  neighbourhood;  that  they  were 
obliged  to  bring  their  provisions  from  S'.-Jtos  with 
great  danger  and  difficulty;  and  that  they  were  very 
much  in  tTie  wrong  to  suffer  the  soldiers  and  mariners 
of  the  fleet,  as  soon  as  they  were  ashore,  to  straggle' 
and  disperse  themselves  wherever  they  pleased,  whilst 
they  saw  an  enemy's  fleet  facing  them,  accustomed 
to  execute  the  orders  of  their  general  with  infant 
obedience,  and  upon  the  slightest  signal.  He  offered 
also  to  attack  the  enemy  by  land  with  a  strong  bodjr 
of  Thracian  troops,  and  to  force  thtm  to  a  battle. 
The  generals,  especially  Tjdcus  and  Men;n:ik-r,  jea- 
lous of  their  command,  did  not  content  themselves 
with  refusing  his  offers,  from  the  opinion,  tliHt  if  the 
event  proved  unfortunate,  the  whole  blame  wculd  fail 
on  them,  and  if  favourable,  that  Alcibiades  would 
engross  the  honour  of  it;  but  rejected  also  with  insult 
his  wise  and  salutary  counsel,  as  if  a  man  in  disgrace 
lost  his  sense  and  abilities  with  the  favour  of  the 
commonwealth.  Alcibiades  withdrew. 

The  fifth  day  the  Athenians  presented  themselves 
again,  and  offered  him  battle;  retiring  in  the  evening 
according  to  custom  with  more  insulting  air*  than  the 
da\s  before.  Lysander,  as  usual,  detached  some  gal- 
leys to  observe  them,  with  orders  to  return  with  the 
utmost  diligence,  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  Athenians 
landed.  And  to  put  a  brazen  buckler  at  each  ship's 
head  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  middle  ol  the  chan- 
nel. Himself  in  the  mean  time  ran  through  the  whole 
line  in  his  galley,  exhorting  the  pilots  ami  officers  to 
hold  the  seamen  and  soldiers  in  readiness  to  row  and 
fight  on  the  first  signal. 

As  soon  as  the  bucklers  were  put  up  in  the  ship's 
heads,  and  the  admiral  galley  had  given  the  signal  by 
the  sound  of  trumpet,  the  whole  fleet  set  forwards  in 
good  order.  The  land  army  at  the  same  time  made 
all  possible  haste  to  the  top  of  the  promontory  to  see 
the  battle.  The  strait  that  separates  the  two  conti- 
nents in  this  place,  is  about  fifteen  stadia,4  or  three 
quarters  of  a  league  in  breadth,  which  spare  was 
presently  cleared  through  the  activity  and  diligence 
of  the  rowers.  Conon,  the  Athenian  general.  WHS  ihe 
first  who  perceived,  from  the  shore,  the  enemy's  fleet 
advancing  in  good  order  to  attack  him;  upon  which 
he  immediately  cried  out  for  the  troops  to  <  mbark.  I* 
the  height  of  sorrow  and  perplexity,  some  he  called 
to  by  their  names,  some  he  conjured,  and  others  he 
forced  to  go  on  board  their  galleys;  !>ut  all  his  en- 
deavours and  emotion  were  ineffectual,  the  soldiers 
being  dispersed  on  all  sides.  For  they  were  no  sooner 
come  on  shore,  than  some  ran  to  the  sutlers,  some  to 
walk  in  the  country,  some  to  sleep  in  their  tents,  and 
others  had  begun  to  dress  their  suppers.  This  pro- 
ceeded from  trie  want  of  vigilance  and  experience  in 
their  generals,  who,  not  suspecting  the  least  danger, 
indulged  themselves  in  taking  their  repose  and  gave 
their  soldiers  the  same  liberty. 

The  enemy  had  already  fa'llen  on  with  loud  cries 
and  a  great  noise  of  their  oars,  when  Conon,  disen- 
gaging himself  with  nine  galleys,  of  which  number 
was  the  sacred  ship  called  the  t'aralinn,  stood  away 
for  Cyprus,  where  he  took  refuge  with  F.vajioras.  The 
Peloponnesians,  falling  upon  the  rest  of  the  fleet,  took 
immediately  the  galleys  which  were  empty,  and  dis- 
abled and  destroyed  such  as  began  to  till  with  men. 
The  soldiers,  who  ran  without  order  or  arms  to  their 
relief,  were  either  killed  in  their  endeavour  to  get  on 
board,  or  flying  on  shore,  were  cut  to  pieces  by  the 
enemy,  who  landed  in  pursuit  of  them.  Lysander 
took  3000  prisoners,  with  all  the  generals  and  the 
whole  fleet.  After  having  plundered  the  cnmp,  and 
fastened  the  enemy's  galleys  to  the  sterns  of  his  own, 
he  returned  to  Lampsaciis,  amidst  the  sounds  ol  llutes 
and  songs  of  triumph.  He  had  the  glory  of  achieving 
one  of  the  greatest  military  exploits  recorded  in  his- 
tory, with  little  or  no  loss,  and  of  terminating  in  the 
small  space  of  an  hour,  a  war  which  had  already 
lasted  s«ven-and-twenty  years,  and  which  perliaps, 
without  him,  would  have  been  of  much  longer  conti 


«  1875  paces. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


345 


»;iance.  Lrsnnder  immediately  sent  despatches  with 
tni*  agrc  eaMe  news  to  Sparta. 

Tti<  ;>0(*0  p.-isoners,  taken  in  this  battle,  having 
been  condemned  to  die,  Lysaiuler  railed  upon  Philo- 
c.>«s,  OIK  ol  the  Athenian  general*,  who  had  caused 
ail  tlif  prisoners  taken  in  two  tulle}!,  (he  one  of 
At.dro*,  the  other  ol"  Corinth,  to  IIP  tin-own  from  the 
precipice,  and  hud  formerly  persuaded  the 
pt.iple  of  Athens  to  make  a  decree  for  rutting  oil  the 
thumb  of  the  right  hand  of  all  the  prisoners  ol  war,  in 
or^-'.r  1 1)  dibble  them  from  handling  the  pike. and  that 
tht*  might  be  fit  only  to  serve  at  the  oar.  Lysander 
the»<fnre  caused  him  to  be  brought  forth,  and  asked 
him  what  sentence  he  would  puss  upon  hi.nsclf,  for 
havU.g  induced  his  city  to  pass  that  cruel  decree. 
Phil,  ^les  without  departing- from  his  haugl.lii:<  -s  n\ 
the  l-rtst,  notwithstanding;  the  extreme  dimmer  he  was 
in,  m«lf  answer  "Accuse  not  people  of  crimes  wh  > 
have  r.3  judges;  but  as  you  are  victor,  use  your  light, 
and  o  -  by  us  as  we  would  have  done  by  you,  if  we 
had  conquered."  At  the  same  ins-taut  he  went  into 
a  bat!  |iut  on  afterwards  a  magnificent  robe,  and 
ma  re  ha- 1  foremost  to  the  execution.  All  the  prisoners 
were  pv.  to  the  sword,  except  Adimantus,  who  had 
O|)jio»et  the  decree. 

Alter  '"li^  expedition,  Lysander  went  with  his  fleet 
to  all  tl,  t  tiiarttime  cities,  and  gave  orders  lor  all 
Athtniai.*  '.]  them  to  withdraw  as  soon  a*  possible  to 
Athens  *.i'hout  pf  nuitting  them  to  take  any  other 
•oute;  dt  I, ring,  that  alter  a  certain  lime  lixed,  all 
such  shou't  be  punished  with  death,  as  should  be 
found  out  or  \tlicn;.  This  he  did  -a*  an  nble  politi- 
cian, to  redv^e  the  city  by  famine  the  more  easily, 
an  I  l  >  tviidc  it  incapable  of  sustaining  a  long  siege. 
He  afterward,  busied  himself  in  subjecting  democracy, 
mi  I  ail  othei  forms  of  governnient,  throughout  the 
cities;  leai-in,'  in  each  of  them  a  LacedaMiionian  gov- 
ernor, called  twrmostes,  and  ten  archons,  or  magis- 
trale«,  whom  he  chose  out  of  the  societies  lie  had  es- 
tabli-he  I  in  tli-iii.  He  thereby  in  some  measure  se- 
currd  to  hiiiis-if  universal  authority,  and  a  kind  of 
sovereignty  overall  Greece;  putting  none  into  power, 
but  such  a«  were  entirely  devoted  to  hi*  service. 

SECTION  VII, — ATHENS,  BES1F.OED  BY  LYSANDER. 
CAPITULATES  AM)  SURRENDERS.  I.VSANDER 
CHANGES  THE  KoRM  OK  GOVERNMENT,  AND 
ESTABLISHES  THIRTV  COMMANDERS  IN  IT.  HE 
KENMS  fJVLIIM'US  BEFORE  HIM  TO  SPARTA  WITH 
AM.  THE  <;oi.D  AND  SILVER  TAKEN  KRUM  THE 
ENEMV.  DECREE  OF  SPARTA  UPON  THE  USE  TO 
HE  .MADE  OF  IT.  THE  PELOPONNESIAN  WAR 
ENDS  IN  THIS  MANNER.  DEATH  OF  DARIUS 
KOTHUS. 

WHEN  the  news  of  the  entire 
A.  M.  3600.  defeat  of  the  army  came  to  Athens 
Ant.  J.  C.  404.  by  a  ship,1  which  arrived  by  night 
at  the  Pirseus  the  city  was  in  uni- 
versal consternation.  Nothing  was  heard  but  cries 
of  sorrow  and  despair  in  every  part  of  it.  They 
imagined  the  enemy  already  at  their  gates.  They 
represented  to  themselves  the  miseries  of  a  long  siege, 
a  crue  I  famine,  the  ruin  and  burning  of  their  city,  the 
insolence  of  a  proud  victor,  and  the  shameful  si  ivtrv 
they  were  upon  the  point  of  experiencing,  more  afflict- 
ing and  insupportable  to  them  than  the  most  severe 
punishment*!  and  death  itself.  The  next  day  the 
assembly  was  summoned,  wherein  it  was  resolved  to 
thut  up  all  the  ports,  one  only  excepted ;  to  repair  the 
br<-:n  hts  in  the  walls;  and  mount  guard  to  prepare 
against  a  siege. 

In  fart,  A^i*  and  Pausanias.  the  two  king*  of  Sparta, 
advanced  towards  Athens  with  all  their  troops.  Ly- 
••  -  inn  after  arrived  at  thi  I'ineus  with  150  sail 

and  prevented  all  «hips  from  going  in  or  coming  out. 
The  Athenians  b« s'u  ged  by  sea  and  land,  without 
nrovi.i.ins.  ships,  hope  of  relief,  or  any  resource,  re- 
tnst:it<  ;l  all  persons  who  had  been  attainted  by  any 
decree,  without  however  speaking  of  a  capitulation, 
though  many  already  died  of  the  famine.  But  when 


i  X.'Moph.  Ik-Hen.  I.  li.  p.  458— 4G3.     Plut.  in  Lycind.  p. 
01 441. 
VOL.  I.-44 


their  corn  was  entirely  consumed,  they  sent  deputirt 
to  propose  a  treaty  with  Sparta,  opon  condi- 
tion of  abandoning  all  their  possessions,  the  city  and 
port  only  txcepted.  He  referred  the  deputies  to 
La< a_i!emon,  as  not  being  unpowereu  to  treat  with 
them.  When  they  arrived  at  Selagia,  upon  the  Iron- 
tin-  of  Sparta,  and'  had  made  known  their  commission 
to  the  Fphori,  they  were  ordered  to  retire, and  to  come 
with  oilier  proposals  if  they  expected  peace.  The 
Kphori  had  demanded,  that  1-00  paces  of  the  wall  on 
each  side  of  the  Piraeus  should  be  demolished:  but 
an  Vlheninn,  for  venturing  to  ndvise  a  compliance 
was  «ei:t  to  prison,  and  prohibition  made  against  pro 
)>o*ing;  any  thing  of  that  kind  lor  the  future. 

In  this  deplorable  condition,  Theramenes  declared 
in  the  assembly,  that  if  he  were  sent  to  Lysander.  he 
would  know  whether  the  proposal  made  by  the  La- 
c.tdemonians  lor  dismantling  the  citi,  was  intended 
to  facilitate  its  ruin,  or  to  prevent  a  revolt.  The 
Athenians  having  deputed  him  accordingly,  he  was 
more  than  three  months  absent;  no  doubt  with  the 
view  of  reducing  them  by  famine  to  accept  any  con- 
ditions that  should  be  ohYrrd.  On  his  return  he  told 
them,  that  L\»an<:er  had  uetamed  mm  all  that  time, 
and  that  at  last  he  had  given  him  to  understand,  that 
he  miirht  apply  to  the  Kphori.  He  was  therefore  s<  nt 
back  with  nine  others  to  Sparta,  with  lull  powers  to 
conclude  a  treaty.  When  they  arrived  there,  the 
Kphori  gave  them  audience  in  the  g<  neral  assembly, 
Where  tile  Corinthian*  and  several  other  allie-,  espe- 
cially the  Th<  bans,  insisted  that  it  was  itbsolult  Ij 
necessary  to  de-troy  the  city  without  hearkt  ning  any 
farther  to  a  treaty.  Hut  the  Lacedemonians  prefer- 
ring the  glory  and  safetj  of  (ireece  to  tluir  ow  q 
grandeur,  made  answer  that  they  never  would  be 
reproached  with  having  destroyed  a  city  that  had 
rendered  such  great  si-nice*  to  all  (.ireece;  the 
remembrance  of  which  ought  to  have  much  greater 
weight  with  the  allies  than  the  i  e-i  nlinent  of  private 
injuries  received  from  it.  The  peace  was  therefore 
concluded  upon  these  condition':  "That  the  fortili* 
cations  of  the  Pirru-,  with  the  long  wr,ll  that  |oined 
that  port  to  the  city,  should  be  demolished;  that  the 
Athenians  should  deliver  up  all  their  galleys,  twelve 
only  excepted;  that  they  should  abandon  all  the 
cities  they  had  seized,  and  content  lhem-il.es  v\'uh 
their  own  lands  and  country;  that  tlu  \  should  recall 
their  exiles,  and  make  a  It-ague  offensive  and  defen- 
sive with  the  Lacxdeivonians,  under  whom  they 
should  march  wherever  they  thought  fit  to  lead  them." 

The  deputies  on  their  return  were  surrounded  with 
an  innumerable  throng  of  people, who  were  apprtlun- 
sive  that  nothing  had  bten  concluded,  for  th<  y  were 
not  able  to  hold  out  any  longer,  such  multitudes 
ilyni?  every  day  with  famine.  The  next  day  they 
reported  the  success  of  their  negocialion;  the  treaty 
was  ratified  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  some 
persons;  and  Lysander,  followed  by  the  exiles,  in- 
tered  the  port.  It  was  upon  the  very  day  that  the 
Athenians  had  formerly  gained  the  famous  naval 
battle  of  Salamis.  He  caused  the  walls  to  be  demol- 
ished to  the  sound  of  flutes  and  trump,  ts  and  with 
all  the  exterior  marks  of  triumph  and  rejoicing,  as  if 
all  Greece  had  that  day  regained  its  liberty.  Thus 
ended  the  Peloponnesian  war,  after  having  continued 
during  the  space  of  twenty-seven  years. 

Lysander,  without  giving  the  Athenians  time  to 
look  about  them,  changed  the  form  of  their  govern- 
ment entirely,  established  thirty  archons,  or  rather 
tyrants,  over  the  city,  put  a  simug  garrison  into  tha 
citadel,  and  left  t'le  Spartan  Calllbias,  linrmostcs,  or 
governor.  Agis  dismissed  his  troops.  Lysaiuler,  be- 
fore he  disbanded  his,  advanced  against  SMHM,  which 
he  prisseil  5O  iiarmly,  that  it  was  at  last  obliged  to 
capitulate.  After  Having  established  its.  ancient  in- 
habitants in  it,  he  proposed  to  return  to  Sparta  with 
the  Lacredemonian  gallcv,  s.  those  of  the  liiious,  and 
the  beaks  of  those  he  hail  taken. 

He  had  sent  Gylippns,  who  had  commanded  the 
army  in  Sicily,  before  him,  to  carry  the  money  nnd 
spoils,  which  were  the  fruit  of  his  glorious  campaigns, 
to  Laciedenion.  The  injury,  without  reckoning  the 
innumerable  crowns  of  gold  given  him  by  the  uiicr 


346 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


amounted  to  1500  talents,  that  is  to  say,  1,500.000 
crowns.-  Gylippus,  who  carried  this  considerable 
sum,  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  converting 
some  part  of  it  to  his  own  use.  The  bags  were  seal- 
ed up  carefully  and  did  not  seem  to  leave  any  room 
for  theft.  He  uusewed  them  at  the  bottom;  and  af- 
ter having  taken  out  of  each  of  them  what  money  he 
thought  tit,  to  the  amount  of  300  talents,  he  sewed 
them  up  again  very  neatly,  and  thought  himself  per- 
fectly safe.  But  when  he  arrived  at  Sparta,  the  ac- 
counts which  had  been  put  up  in  each  bag,  discovered 
him.  To  avoid  punishment,  he  banished  himself  from 
his  country,  carrying  along  with  him  in  all  places  the 
disgrace  of  having  sullied,  by  so  base  and  sordid  an 
avarice,  the  glory  of  all  his  great  actions. 

From  this  unhappy  example,  the  wisest  and  most 
judicious  of  the  Spartans,  apprehending  the  all-pow- 
erful eflects  of  money,  which  enslaved  not  only  the 
vulgar,  but  even  the  greatest  of  men,  extremely 
blamed  Lysander  for  having  acted  so  contradictorily 
to  the  fundamental  laws  of  Sparta,  and  warmly  repre- 
sented to  the  Ephori,  how  incumbent  it  was  upon 
them  to  banish  all  that  gold  and  silver  from  the  repub- 
lic,* and  to  lay  the  heaviest  of  curses  and  imprecations 
upon  it,  as  the  fatal  bane  of  all  other  states,  introduced 
onlv  to  corrupt  the  wholesome  constitution  of  the 
Spartan  government,  which  had  supported  itself  for 
so  many  ag-es  with  vigour  and  prosperity.  The 
Ephori  immediately  passed  a  decree  to  proscribe  that 
money,  and  ordained  that  none  should  be  current, 
except  the  usual  iron  coin.  But  Lysander's  friends 
opposed  this  decree,  and  sparing  no  pains  to  retain 
the  gold  and  silver  in  Sparta,  the  affair  was  referred 
to  farther  deliberation.  There  naturally  seemed  only 
two  plans  to  be  proposed;  which  were,  either  to 
make  the  gold  and  silver  coin  current,  or  to  cry  them 
down  and  prohibit  them  absolutely.  The  men  of 
address  and  policy  found  out  a  third  expedient,  which, 
in  their  opinion,  reconciled  both  the  others  with  great 
success:  this  was  wisely  to  choose  the  mean  between 
the  vicious  extremes  of  too  much  rigour  and  too 
much  remissness.  It  was  therefore  resolved,  that  the 


<  A I  .out  337,0001.  sterling. 

•  'Airof  iojro;u!T».9-5«i    xir    T)    mfy,tf<tr    Ml   ft 


new  coin  of  gold  and  silver  should  be  solely  emjlcjr 
eel  by  the  public  treasury;  that  it  should  only  pass 
in  the  occasion  and  uses  of  the  state;  and  that  every 
private  person  in  whose  possession  it  should  be  found", 
should  be  immediately  put  to  death. 

A  strange  expedient!  says  I  lutarch;  as  if  Lycur- 
gus  had  feared  the  specie  of  gold  ;ind  silver,  a:»l  not 
the  avarice  they  occasion;  an  avarice  less  to  be  extin- 
guished by  prohibiting  individuals  from  possessing  it, 
than  inflamed  by  permitting  the  state  to  »mass  and 
make  use  of  it  for  the  service  of  the  public.  For  it 
was  impossible,  whilst  that  money  was  held  in  honour 
and  esteem  with  the  public,  that  it  should  be  despised 
in  private  as  useless,  and  that  the  people  should  look 
upon  that  as  of  no  value  in  their  domestic  atl'airs,  which 
the  state  prized,  and  was  so  anxious  to  have  for  its 
occasions;  bad  usages,  authorized  by  the  practice  and 
example  of  the  public,  being  a  thousand  times  more 
dangerous  to  individuals  than  the  vices  of  individuals 
to  the  public.  The  Laraedemonians,  therefore,  con- 
tinues Plutarch,  in  punishing  those  with  death  who 
should  make  use  of  the  new  money  in  private, 
were  so  blind  and  imprudent  as  to  imagine,  that 
the  placing  of  the  law,  and  the  terror  of  punish- 
ment, as  a  guard  at  the  door,  was  sufficient  to  pre- 
vent gold  and  silver  from  entering  the  house;  whilst 
they  left  the  hearts  of  thtir  citizens  open  to  the  desire 
and  admiration  of  riches,  and  introduced  themselves  a 
violent  passion  for  amassing  treasure,  in  causing  it  to  b» 
duemed  a  great  and  honourable  thing  to  become  rich. 

It  was  about  the  end  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war,  that  Darius  Nothus,  A.  M.  3600 

king  of  Persia,  died,  alter  a  reign  of  Ant.  J.  C.  404 
nineteen  years.  Cyrus  had  arrived 
at  the  court  before  nis  death,  and  Pary satis,  his  mother, 
whose  idol  he  was,  not  contented  with  having  made 
his  peace,  notwithstanding  the  faults  he  had  commit- 
ted in  his  government,  pressed  the  old  king  to  declare 
him  his  successor  also,  after  the  example  of  Darius 
the  First,  who  gave  Xerxes  the  preference  before  ail 
his  brothers,  because  he  had  been  bor;i,M  Cyrus  wag 
after  his  father's  succession  to  the  throne.  Be'.  Darius 
did  not  carry  his  complaisance  for  her  so  (a:-.  He 
gave  the  crown  to  Arsares,  his  eldest  son  by  Parysatn 
also,  whom  Plutarch  calls  Arsicas,  and  bequeathed  to 
Cyras  only  the  provinces  he  had  already 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS, 


CONTIN'UED. 


DURING  THE  FIRST   FIFTEEN   YEARS  OF  THE  REIGN  OF   ARTAXERXES   MKE.MOiN 


BOOK  IX. 


CHAPTER  I. 
SECTION  I. — CORONATION  or  ARTAXERXES  MNE- 

MON.  CYRUS  ATTEMPTS  TO  ASSASSINATE  HIS  BRO- 
THER, AM)  IS  SENT  INTO  ASIA  MINuR.  CRUEL  RE- 
VENGE OF  STATIRA.  WIFE  OF  ARTAXERXES,  UPuN 
THE  AUTHORS  AND  ACCOMPLICES  IN  THE  MURDER 
OF  HER  BROTHER.  DEATH  OF  ALCIBIADES.  HIS 
CHARACTER. 

ARSACES,  upon  ascending  ihe 
A.  M.  3600.  throne,  assumed  the  name  of  Arta- 
Ant.  J.  C.  404.  xerxes:  he  it  is  to  whom  the  Greeks 
gave  the  surname  of  Mnenion,«  from 
his  prodigious  memory.  Being  near  his  father's  bed 
when  he  was  dyi-ig*  he  asked  him,  a  few  moments 
before  he  expir*c,  what  had  been  the  rule  of  his  con- 
duct during  so  long  and  happy  a  reign  as  his,  that  he 
might  make  it  his  example.  It  has  been,  replied  he, 
to  do  always  what  justice  and  religion  required  of  me: 
memorable  words,  and  well  worthy  to  be  «et  up  in 
letters  of  gold  in  the  palaces  of  kings,  to  keep  them 
perpetually  in  mind  of  what  ought  to  be  the  guide 
and  rule  of  all  their  actions.  It  is  not  uncommon  for 
princes  to  give  excellent  instructions  to  their  children 
on  their  death-beds,  which  would  be  more  efficacious, 
if  preceded  by  their  own  exmnple  and  practice; 
without  which  they  are  as  weak  and  impotent  as  the 
nek  man  who  gives  them,  and  seldom  survive  him 
long. 

Soon  after  Darius's  death,1  the  new  king  set  out 
from  his  capital  for  the  city  of  Pasargada,4  in  order  to 
his  coronation,  according  to  custom,  by  the  priests  of 
Persia.  Tnere  was  in  that  city  a  temple  of  the  goddess 
who  presided  over  war,  in  which  the  coronation  of 
then  king«  was  solemnized.  It  was  attended  with 
rery  singular  ceremonies,  which  no  doubt  had  some 
nivitrnous  sense;  though  Plutarch  does  not  explain 
it. — The  prinre,  at  his  consecration,  took  off  his  robe 
in  the  temple,  and  put  on  that  worn  bv  the  ancient 
Cjrus  before  he  came  to  the  throne,  which  was  pre- 
served in  that  place  with  great  veneration.  After 
that  he  ate  a  dry  fig,  chewed  some  leaves  of  the  tur- 
pentine tree,  and  drank  a  draught  composed  of  milk 
and  vinegar.  Was  this  to  signify,  that  the  sweets  of 
•overeign  power  are  mingled  with  the  bitterness  of 
care  and  disquiet,  and  that,  if  the  throne  be  surround- 
ed with  pleasures  and  honours,  it  is  aUo  attended 
with  pains  and  anxieties?  It  seems  sufficiently  evi- 
dent, that  the  design  of  putting  the  rohes  of  Cyrus 
upon  the  new  king,  was  to  make  him  understand,  that 
he  should  alsn  rluthe  his  mind  with  the  great  qualities 
and  exalled  virtues  of  that  prince. 

Younsj  Cyrus,  corroded  by  ambition,  was  in  despair 
open  being  forever  frustrated  in  his  hopes  of  ascend- 


»  Which  word  lignifit-i  in  the  Greek,  one  of  a  good  mem- 
ry. 
»  Athcn.  I.  xii    p.  548. 

•  E'lui.  in  Arts*,  p.  1012.. 

•  A  ciiy  uflVriia  built  bj  Cyrui  the  Great 


ing  a  throne  with  which  his  mother  had  inspired  him, 
and  on  seeing  the  sceptre,  which  he  thought  hu 
righl,  transferred  into  the  hands  of  hit  brother.  The 
blackest  crimes  cost  the  ambitious  nothing.  Cyru» 
resolved  to  assassinate  Artaxerxes  in  the  temple  itself, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  court,  just  when  he 
was  about  to  take  off  his  own  robe  to  put  on  that  of  Cy- 
rus. Artaxerxes  was  apprized  of  this  design  by  the  priest 
himself  who  had  educated  his  brother,  to  whom  he 
had  imparted  it.  Cyrus  was  seized  and  condemned 
to  die — when  his  mother  Parysatis.  almost  out  of  her 
senses,  flew  to  the  place,  clasped  him  in  her  arms, 
tied  herself  to  him  with  the  tresses  of  her  hair,  fatten- 
ed her  neck  to  his,  and  by  her  shrieks,  and  tears,  and 
prayer?,  prevailed  so  far  as  to  obtain  his  pardon,  and 
that  he  should  be  sent  back  to  his  government 
of  the  maritime  provinces.  He  carried  thither  with 
him  an  ambition  no  less  ardent  than  before,  and 
animated  besides,  with  resentment  of  the  disgrace 
he  had  received,  and  the  warm  desire  of  revenge, 
and  armed  with  an  absolute  unbounded  power. 
Artaxerxes  upon  this  occasion  acted  contrary  to  the 
most  common  rules  of  policy,  which  do  not  admit 
the  nourishing  and  inflaming,*  by  extraordinary  hon- 
ours, the  pride  and  haughtiness  of  a  bold  and  enter- 
prising young  prince  like  Cyrus,  who  had  carried  his 
personal  enmity  to  his  brother  so  far,  as  to  have 
resolvod  to  assassinate  him  with  his  own  hand,  and 
whose  ambition  for  empire  was  so  great,  as  to  employ 
the  most  criminal  methods  for  the  attainment  of  its 
end. 

Artaxerxes  had  espoused  Statira.*  Scarce  had  her 
husband  ascended  the  throne,  when  she  employed  the 
power  her  beauty  gave  her  over  him,  to  avenge  the 
death  of  her  brother  Teriteuchmes.  History  has  not 
a  more  tragical  srene,  nor  a  more  monstrous  compli- 
cation of  adultery,  incest,  and  murder;  which,  altrr 
having  occasioned  great  disorders  in  the  royal  family, 
terminated  at  length  in  the  most  fatal  man'iicr  to  all 
who  had  any  share  in  it.  But  it  is  necessary  for  the 
reader's  knowledge  of  the  fact,  to  trace  it  from  the 
beginning. 

Hydarnes,  Statira's  father,  a  Persian  of  very  high 
quality,  was  governor  of  one  of  the  principal  province 
of  the  empire.  Statira  was  a  lady  of  extraordinary 
beauty,  which  induced  Artaxerxes  to  marry  her:  he 
was  then  called  Arsares.  At  the  same  ti'me  Teri- 
teuchmes. Slatira's  brother,  married  Hameslris.  Ar- 
•aces's  sister,  one  of  the  daughter*  of  Dariu*  nnd  {"ary- 
satis  ;  in  favour  of  which  marriage  Teriteuthmes, 
upon  his  father's  death,  had  his  government  given  him. 
There  was  at  the  same  time  another  sister  in  this  fami- 
ly, named  Roxana.  no  less  beautiful  than  StHtira,  and 
who  besides  excelled  in  the  arts  of  shooting  with  th« 
bow,  and  throwing-  the  dart.  Terite-ichmes  her  brother 
conceived  a  criminal  passion  for  her,  and  to  gratifjr 


•  Ne  qui»   mo!iilp«  adolp*rpnlium  »nimia  |>nenmtiir»  bo 
noribuff  ad  «u|>-rl>iam  exulleret.      Tacit.  .Innal.  I.  IT.  e    17 

•  Cie«.  c.  li.  l». 

347 


348 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


h,  resolved  to  set  himself  at  liberty  by  killing  Hame- 
etris,  whom  he  had  espoused.  Darius,  having  been 
informed  of  this  project,  by  the  force  of  presents  and 

Eromises,  engaged  fjdiastes,  Teriteuchmes's  intimate 
•lend  and  confidant,  to  prevent  so  black  a  design,  by 
assassinating  him.     He  obeyed,   and    had   for  his  re- 
ward, the  government  of  him  he  had  put  to  death 
with  his  own  hands. 

Among  Teriteuchmes's  guards  was  a  son  of  Udia- 
gtes.  called  Mithridates,  very  much  attached  to  his 
master.  The  young  gentleman  upon  hearing  that  his 
father  had  committed  this  murder  in  person,  uttered 
all  manner  of  imprecations  against  him,  mid  full  of  hor- 
ror for  so  infamous  and  vile  an  action,  seized  on  the  ci- 
ty of  Zaris,  and  openly  revolting,  declared  for  the  es- 
tablishment of  Teriteuchmes's  son.  But  that  young  man 
could  not  hold  out  long  against  Darius.  He  was 
blocked  up  in  the  place  with  the  son  of  Teriteuchmes, 
whom  he  had  with  him;  and  all  the  rest  of  the  family 
of  Hydarnes  were  put  in  prison,  and  delivered  to 
Parysatis,  to  do  with  them  as  that  mother,  exaspera- 
ted to  the  last  excess  by  the  treatment  either  done  or 
intended  against  her  daughter  Hamestris,  should  think 
fit.  That  cruel  princess  began  by  causing  Roxana, 
whose  beauty  had  been  the  occasion  of  all  this  evil, 
to  be  sawed  in  two,  and  ordered  all  the  rest  to  be  put 
to  death,  except  Statira,  whose  life  she  granted  to  the 
tears  and  the  most  tender  and  ardent  solicitation!  of 
Arsaces;  whose  love  for  his  wife  made  him  spare  no 

Cains  tor  her  preservation,  though  Darius,  his  father, 
elieveci  it  necessary,  even  for  his  own  good,  that  she 
should  share  the  same  fate  with  the  rest  of  her  family. 
Such  was  the  state  of  the  affair  at  the  death  of  Darius. 
Slatir-.i,  as  soon  as  ber husband  was  upon  the  throne, 
causes  Udiastes  to  be  delivered  into  her  hands.  She 
ordered  his  tongue  to  be  torn  out,  and  made  him  die 
in  the  most  exquisite  torments  she  could  invent,  to 
punish  the  crime  which  had  occasioned  the  ruin  of  her 
family.  She  gave  his  government  to  Mithridates,  in 
recompense  for  his  attachment  to  the  interests  of  her 
family.  Parysatis  on  her  side  took  her  revenge  on  the 
son  01  Teriteuchmes,  whom  she  caused  to  be  poisoned  ; 
an  :  we  shall  see  that  Statira  'a  turn  was  not  very  remote. 
We  see  here  the  terrible  effects  of  female  revenge, 
and  in  general  of  what  excesses  they  are  capable,  ivho 
find  themselves  above  all  laws,  and  have  no  other  rule 
for  their  actions  than  their  will  and  passions. 

Cyrus,  having  resolved  to  dethrone 
A.  M.  3601.  his  brother,  employed  Clearchus,  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  403.  Lacedaemonian  general,  to  raise  a 
body  of  Grecian  troops,  under  pre- 
tence of  a  war  which  that  Spartan  proposed  to  carry 
into  Thrace.  I  shall  defer  speaking  of  this  famous 
expedition,  and  also  of  the  death  of  Socrates,  which 
happened  about  the  same  time;  as  I  intend  to  treat 
those  two  great  events  in  all  the  extent  they  deserve. 
It  was  without  doubt,  with  the  same  view,1  that  Cy- 
rus presented  to  Lysander  a  galley  of  two  cubits  of 
length,  made  of  ivory  and  gold,  to  congratulate  him 
upon  his  naval  victory.  That  galley  was  consecra- 
ted to  Apollo  in  the  temple  of  Defphi.  Lysander 
went  soon  afterwards  to  Sardis,  charged  with  magni- 
ficent presents  for  Cyrus  from  the  allies. 

It  was  upon  that  occasion  Cyrus  had  the  celebrated 
COBversatlCHi  with  Lysander.  related  by  Xenophon,* 
air.!  winch  Cicero  after  him,  has  applied  so  beautiful- 
ly. Trial  young  prince,*  who  piqued  himself  more 
upon  his  Hthibility  and  politeness  than  nobility  and 

i  Pint,  in  l.yf.  p.  443.  *  Xenophon  CEcon.  p.  830. 

t  N'arral  Sorralc«  in  on  liliro  Cyrum  minorcm,  regem 
Perxarum.  prawtanleni  ingpnin  atque  imperil  gloria,  cum 
LyundiT  I>ao>>dn-moniu4,  vir  «umn>H>  virtulin,  venigrot  ad 
nun  Sml"s.  t.-ii|ur  dnr.n  a  socii*  attulinort,  et  cn-ieris  in  re- 
bu»  romiMii  crgu  Lvsandrum  atijni!  liumanum  fuissr,  et  ei 
qunmiliun  mn<i-plnm  :ij;ruin  'lilii-enlc-r  ronsitnm  ostcndinse. 
Cum  autein  admtriirrtur  l,v.«an<lrr  et  prorrritaKM  arhorum, 
et  din>ntfM  in  '[uinruiirpm  ordinn*,  et  hiimnm  culmrinm 
atmif  porHin.i-t  rfimvitatpm  odnrum  <|iii  rfflnri'ntur  t  flori- 
bun;  linn  cum  ili\i«se.  mirnri  no  mm  inodo  diligent iam.  Bed 
etiam  liolerliam  PJUH,  a  quo  ci-i'in  ilia  diincnua  atque  dea- 
eii|'ta.  Ki  ei  (.'yruin  renpOMlbM :  Aii|in  ego  ima  Mini 
dimen«u«,  RIP!  Runt  ordines.  mea  dencriptio,  multa?  cliam 
intaruin  arlmrum  nira  manu  HUIII  sata?.  Turn  LyKandrum 
intuenlpm  pjus  p>jrpuram  et  nttorcm  ror|Hiris.  ornatumque 
IVrsir.uin  roulto  auru  iiiuliirfijuo  gemmis.  dixixo  •  Rectd 


grandeur,  pleased  himself  with  comlucting  in  penof 
so  illustrious  a  guest  through  fiis  gardens,  and  witk 
making  him  observe  the  various  beauties  of  them. 
I.yssnder,  struck  with  so  fine  a  prospect, admired  the 
manner  in  which  the  several  parts  wore  laid  out  the 
height  of  the  trees,  the  neatness  and  disposition  of  the 
walks;  the  abundance  of  fruit-trees,  planted  checker- 
wise,  with  an  art  which  had  known  how  to  unite  the 
useful  with  the  agreeable;  the  beauty  of  the  parterres, 
and  the  glowing  variety  of  flowers,  exhaling  odours 
universally  throughout  the  delightful  scene.  "Every 
thing  charms  and  transports  me  in  this  place,"  said 
Lysander,  addressing  himself  to  Cyrus;  "but  what 
strikes  me  most,  is  the  exquisite  taste  and  elegant  in- 
dustry ot  the  person  who  drew  the  plan  of  the  several 
parts  of  this  garden,  and  gave  it  the  fine  order,  won- 
derful disposition,  and  happiness  of  symmetry,  which 
I  cannot  sufficiently  admire."  Cyrus,  infinitely  pleased 
with  this  discourse,  replied,  "It  was  I  that  drew  the 
plan,  and  entirely  marked  it  out;  and  many  of  the 
trees,  which  you  see,  were  planted  with  inv  own 
hands."  "What!"  replied  Lysander,  consfdt ring 
him  from  head  to  foot,  "  is  it  possible  with  these  pur- 
ple robes  and  splendid  vestments,  those  Mrings  of 
jewels  and  bracelets  of  gold,  those  buskins  so  richly 
embroidered,  that  you  could  play  the  gardener,  ana 
employ  your  royal  hand?  in  planting  trees!"  "Doe* 
that  surprise  you?"  said  Cyrus,  "  I  swear  by  the  god 
Mithras,*  that  when  my  health  admits,  I  never  sit 
clown  to  table  without  having  made  myself  sweat  with 
some  fatigue  or  other,  either  in  military  exercise,  rural 
labour,  or  some  other  toilsome  employment,  to  which 
I  apply  with  pleasure,  and  without  sparing  myself." 
Lysander  was  amazed  at  this  discourse,  and  pressing 
him  by  the  hand;  "  Cyrus,"'  said  he,  "you  uie  truly 
happy,  and  deserve  your  high  fortune;  because  in 
you  it  is  united  with  virtue." 

Alcibiadcg  without  any  trouble  discovered  the  mys- 
tery of  the  levies  made  by  Cyrus,  and  went  into  the 
province  of  Pharnabazus,  with  a  design  to  proceed  to 
the  court  of  Persia,  and  to  apnrise  Artaxerxes  of  the 
scheme  laid  against  him.  Haa  he  arrived  there, adis- 
covery  of  such  importance  would  have  infallibly  pro- 
cured him  the  favour  of  that  prince,  and  the  assistance 
he  wanted  for  the  re-establishment  of  his  country. 
But  the  Lacedaemonian  partizans  at  Athens,  that  is  to 
say,  the  thirty  tyrants,  apprehended  the  intrigues  of 
so  superior  a  genius  as  his,  and  represented  to  their 
masters,  that  they  were  inevitably  ruined,  if  they  did 
not  find  means  to  rid  themselves  of  Alcibiades.  The 
Lacedaemonians  thereupon  wrote  to  Pharnabr.zus.and 
with  an  abject  meanness  not  to  be  excused, end  which 
showed  how  much  Sparta  h'ld  degenerated  from  her 
ancient  manners,  pressed  him  with  great  earnestness 
to  deliver  them  at  any  rate  from  so  formidt-ble  an  ene- 
my. The  satrap  complied  with  their  wish.  Alci- 
biades  was  then  in  a  small  town  of  Phtygia,  where 
he  lived  with  his  concubine  Timandra.*  Those  who 
were  sent  to  kill  him,  not  daring  to  enter  hi*  hou.«e, 
contented  themselves  with  surrounding  hiul  setting  it 
on  fire.  Alcibiades,  having  quitted  it  through  the 
Dames  sword  in  ham!,  the  Ijarbarians  were  atraid  to 
stay  io  come  to  blows  with  him,  but  flying  and  r«. 
treating  as  he  advanced,  they  poured  their  darts  and 
arrows  upon  him,  and  he  fell  dead  upon  the  spot 
Timandra  took  up  his  body,  and  having  adorned 
and  covered  it  with  the  finest  robes  she  had,  she  made 
as  magnificent  a  funeral  for  it  as  her  present  condi- 
tion would  admit. 

Such  was  the  end  of  Alcibiadec,  whose  great  virtues 
were  stifled  and  suppressed  by  slill  greater  vices.  It 
is  not  easy  to  say,'  whether  his  good  or  bad  qualities 


vcrfl  te.   Cyre,   lioatum  iVrunt,  rjuoniam  virtuti  lure  fortun* 
nonjuncia  est.     Cic  de  Senec.  n.  C'J. 

•  The  PcrsiBn*  adored   tlie   sun   under  that  name,  who 
wan  i  heir  principal  yi«\. 

•  &.*<.•;,=.  Kopi,  tu%*.na*nc  nynSic  J-«p  wv  tiitxtntvi'itt 
Rrcie  vrro   tc,  Cyrc   licutum    ferunt,  quoiiium   virtuti  turn 
1'nri  mi, i  ronjunda  rsl. 

•  ll  wan   said  Ilial   Lnia  the  fiimou*  oourlrzan,  called  th« 
Corintliiiin.  win  the  daughter  of  l his  Timandra. 

1  ("ujux  nraitio  ulrfim  hona  a)  t  ilia  pairiae  porniriofinra 
fucrint  :  illi*  enim  <  ivei  suos'deccjiit  hi>  ulilmt.  *W 
Mai.  1.  iii.  c.  1 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


34<J 


were  must  penicious  to  his  country;  for  with  the 
•lie  he  deceived,  and  with  the  other  he  opprtssed  it. 
In  him  distinguished  valour  was  united  with  nobility 
of  blaod.  His  person  was  oeautiful  and  finely  made; 
he  vvas  t  loquent,  of  great  ability  in  business,  insinu- 
ating, and  formed  lor  charming  all  mankind.  He 
lo\e<:  ulory,  but  without  prejudice  to  h's  inclination 
for  pleasure;  nor  was  he  so  fond  of  pleasure,  as  to 
neglect  his  glory  for  it.  He  knew  how  to  give  into, 
or  abstract  hm.self  from  it,  according  to  the  situation 
of  his  allairs.  Never  was  there  ductility  ot'g«nius 
equal  to  iiis.  He  metamorphosed  himstll  with  inert  - 
dinle  facilit\ ,  like  a  IVoteus,  itilo  the  most  contrary 
forms,  and  supported  them  all  with  as  much  ease  and 
{rare,  as  it'eacii  had  bet  n  natural  to  him. 

This  convertibility  of  character,  according  as  cir- 
cumstance*, the  customs  of  countries,  and  his  own 
intt  rest*  required.discovt  rs  a  heart  void  of  principles, 
without  either  tn.lh  or  justice.  He  did  not  contine 
himself  either  to  rtligion,  virtue,  laws,  duties,  or  his 
country.  His  sole  rule  of  action  was  his  private  am- 
bition, to  which  he  referred  every  tiling.  His  aim 
WHS  to  please,  to  dazzle,  and  be  beloved ;  but  at  the 
»ame  time  to  subject  those  he  soothed.  He  favoured 
them  only  as  thev  served  his  purposes:  and  made  his 
correspondence  and  society  a  mean*  for  engrossing 
everv  thing  to  himself. 

His  life  was  a  perpetual  mixture  of  good  and  evil. 
His  sallies  into  virtue  were  ill-sustained,  and  quickly 
degenerated  into  vices  and  crimes,  very  little  to  the 
honour  or  the  instructions  of  that  great  philosopher, 
who  took  no  small  pains  to  cultivate  him  into  a  man 
of  worth.  His  actions  were  glorious;  but  without 
rule  or  principle.  His  character  was  elevated  and 
grand;  but  without  connexion  and  consistency.  He 
was  successively  the  support  and  terror  of  the  Lace- 
daemonians and  Persians.  He  was  either  the  misfor- 
fortune  or  refuge  of  hi*  own  country,  according  as  he 
declared  for  or  against  it.  In  tine,  he  was  the  author 
of  a  destructive  war  through  the  whole  of  (jitece, 
from  the  sole  motive  of  commanding,  by  inducing  the 
Athenians  to  besiege  S\iacu»i;  much  Itss  Iroiu  the 
hope  of  conquering  Sicily,  and  afterwards  Africa,  than 
with  the  dtsign  of  keeping  Athens  in  dependence  up- 
on himself;  convinced,  that  having  to  deal  with  an  in- 
constant,  suspicions,  ungrateful, jealous  people,  averse 
to  those  that  governed,  it  was  necessary  to  engage 
them  continually  in  some  great  affair,  in  order  to  make 
es  ahvavs  necessary  to  them,  and  that  they 
might  not  be  at  l.isure  to  examine,  censure,  and  con- 
demn his  conduct. 

lie  had  the  fate  generally  experienced  by  persons 
ot  his  character,  and  of  which  they  cannot  reasonably 
complain.  He  never  loved  any  one,  himstlf  In  mi;  his 
sole  motive:  nor  ever  found  a  friend.  He  made  it  his 
merit  and  glorv  to  cajole  all  men,  and  consequently 
nobody  confided  in,  or  adhered  to,  him.  His  sole 
view  was  to  live  with  splendour,  and  to  domineer 
universally;  and  he  perished  miserably,  abandoned  by 
the  whole  world,  ami  obliged  at  his  death  to  the  fee- 
Lie  services  and  impotent  zeal  of  one  only  woman  for 
the  last  honours  rendered  to  his  remains. 

About  this  time  died  Deniocritus  the  philosopher. 

SECTION  II.— THK  THIRTY  EXERCISK  THF  Ml  ST 
HORRID  CRUELTIES  AT  ATHENS.  THEY  PL'T  THE- 
R  \MF.NFS,  liM.  (JT  THEIR  Col. LEAGUES  TU  DEATH. 

SOCRATES  TAKES  HIS  DEEENC  E  1. 1><  N  HI.MSELK. 
THRASVl.O.lS  ATTACKS  THE  TYRANTS,  .MAKES 
HIMSELF  MASTER  CIF  ATHENS,  AND  RESTORES  ITS 

LIBERTY. 

THE  council  of  Thirty,*  established  at  Athens  by 
I.ysander,  committed  the  most  execrable  cruelties. 
Lpoii  pretence  ot  restraining  the  multitude  within  their 
duty,  and  of  preventing  seditions,  they  had  caused 
guards  to  be  a-sisfned  them,  and  armed  3000  of  the 
Citizens  for  that  service  and  at  the  same  time  disarmed 
•II  the  rest.  The  whole  city  was  in  the  utmost  terror 
*nri  dismay.  Whoever  opposed  their  injustice  and 
»iolein.e  became  the  victims  of  them.  Kiche*  were 


t  Xenoph.  Hint.  1.  ii.  p.   409—489.     Diod.  I.  sir.  p.  335 
WS.     Justin.  1.  T.  c.  8. 10. 


a  crime  that  nevt r  failed  of  drawing  a  sentence  upot 
thtir  i  wiurs,  always  followed  with  death,  and  th* 
co96*rat)oa  of  estate*,  which  the  il.im  tv  units  <i'\ide«l 

<iiiioi.g»t  till  mst  Iv  ts.  They  put  mor>  peoj  Ic  to  death, 
»avs  Xt  nophon,  in  tight  month*  ol  peace,  than  the 
enemits  hud  done  in  a  war  ol  tl.iiu  )iais. 

The  two  most  consult  ruble  p<  rso us  of  the  Thirty, 
were  Cntias  and  Tht  ramtnt  s,  \vho  at  f;:.-t  livid  in 
grtat  union,  and  alwav  s  at  led  in  conceit  with  each 
other.  The  latter  had  some  honour,  and  loved  hit 
com. try.  \V).tn  he  saw  with  what  an  t  >. 
v  iolein  e  and  cruellv  his  colleagues  bt  t.avtd,  lit  (ti  tar- 
ed openly  against  ihun,  and  thettbv  c.nvv  their  re- 
sentineiil  upon  him.  Cntias  became  his  most  mortal 
enemy,  and  acted  as  inloruier  against  him  belure  ths 
senate,  accusing  him  of  disturbing  the  tianquill.ty  of 
the  state,  and  of  designing  to  subvert  the  pitsti't 
government.  As  he  perceived  that  the  defence  of 
Theramenes  wag  heard  with  silence  and  approbation, 
he  wa«  afraid,  that  if  the  atiair  was  le.t  to  tin  ilti  Mull 
of  the  senate,  they  would  acquit  him.  Hav  ing  there- 
fort  caused  a  band  of  \oung  men,  whom  he  hai:  aimed 
wilh  poniards,  to  advance  to  the  bar,  he  said  that  he 
thought  it  the  duty  of  a  siipieme  magistrate  to  pre- 
vent justice  from  being  abustd,  ar.d  that  he  should 
act  conformably  -ipon  this  occasion.  "Hut,"  continued 
he.  "as  the  law  does  not  permit,  that  any  of  the  30UO 
should  be  put  to  death  without  the  consent  of  the 
senate,  1  exclude  Theraments  from  that  number,  and 
condemn  him  to  die,  in  virtue  of  my  own  and  1113  col- 
aulhoiitv."  Tht  r<uii(  in  s  at  these  words, 
leaping  upon  the  altar;  "  1  demand,"  (aid  he.  "  Athe- 
nians, that  I  may  be  tried  according  to  the  laws; 
which  cannot  be  r»  :iiM-ii  me  without  manifest  injustice. 
Not  that  I  imagine,  that  the  goodness  of  my  cause 
will  avail  u-e  anv  thing,  or  the  sanction  of  altars  protect 
me  ;  but  I  would  show  at  hast,  that  mv  enemn  - 
neither  the  gods  nor  men.  \Vhat  most  astonishes  me  is, 
that  persons  of  your  wisdom  do  not  see,  that  your  own 
names  may  as  tasilv  be  struck  out  of  the  list  of  citi- 
zens, as  that  of  Theramenes."  Critias  upon  this 
ordered  the  officers  ot  justice  to  pull  him  down  fiom 
the  altar.  A  universal  silence  and  terror  ensued 
upon  the  sight  ol  the  armed  soldiers,  that  surrounded 
the  senate.  Of  nil  the  senators,  Socrates  alone,  whose 
disciple  Theramenes  had  been,  took  upon  him  his 
deft  nee,  and  opposed  the  officers  of  justi.-e.  But  his 
weak  endeavours  could  not  deliver  Theramenc-.  who 
was  led  to  the  place  ol  execution,  notwithstanding  all 
he  could  do,  thiough  crowds  of  the  citizens,  who  saw 
with  tears,  in  the  late  of  a  man,  equally  consult  mble 
for  his  love  of  liberty  and  the  gredt  services  he  had 
done  his  country,  what  they  had  to  fear  tor  them- 
selves. \\  Inn  tiitv  presented  him  the  hemlock,  that 
is,  the  poison  (which  was  the  manner  of  putting  the 
citizens  at  Athens  to  death.)  he  took  it  with  an 
intrepid  air,  mid  after  having  drunk  it.  he  pouted  the 
button!  upon  the  table,  alter  the  usual  manner  observ- 
ed in  feasts  or  public  r<  joicings,  s;n  ing,  ••  This  for 
the  noble  Critias. ''  Xenuphon  relalts  this  circum- 
stance, inconsiderable  in  itself,  to  show,  sa\s  he. 
the  tranquillity  of  Theramenes  in  his  last  morn*  nts. 
The  tyrants,  delivered  from  a  colleague  whose 
j-rt  -i  nee  alone  was  a  continued  reproach  to  them,  no 
longer  observed  any  measures.  Nothing  passed 
throughout  the  citv  but  imprisonment  and  mun!tr<.: 
K.verv  body  trembied  for  themselves  or  their  IriemX 
The  general  desolation  had  no  remedy,  nor  was  (here 
any  hope  of  resuming  their  liberty.  VVhere  had  they 
then  as  mar.y  HHI  inori  :;st  s3  as  they  had  tyrants? 
i  Terror  had  taken  entire  possession  of  their  n 
whilst  the  whole  city  depl,>r«<l  in  secret  their  loss  of 
liberty,  without  hnvin?  one  amongst  them  gfiit-rnus 


•  Polcratne  rivitini  ilia  r<mijuirsccre,  in   qua   id   lyranni 
.  erani,  quot  sati  Ilites  essont  ?     N«i  fpc-B  quidcm   ulla  rrripi- 
',  endv  libertatis  (mimis   poiernt  olF'Tri.  nt-c   ulli   rrmcclin  kv 

cot  apnarc-hat    rnutra   tanium  rim    mnloriim.     l'i!«l«p   enim 

'  mifx-rip  rivinti   tot  Harm,  rli.w  ?     Surine*   lamrn    in  mrdio 

eral,  et   lugenle*    patrKs    conoilalmrur,    ft    <)fs|*Tantc(i  ii« 

repulilira   cilmriahaiur — et  imilari   volenliSus  nut^runi  <-ir- 

cuml'-ff  hat     c\rm|ilar.     rum    inlrr     tri»inia   doraiiHM  liber 

I  incedrrel.     gtnec.  de  /raiiy«i/.  aitin.  c    in 

•  HarnM>diu<i  formed  »  conspiracy  fur  the  deK*»anoi)  jf 
j  Atheni  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Piii»trmdid«». 

2  Lt 


350 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


enough  to  attempt  breaking  its  chains.  The  Athe- 
nian people  seemed  to  have  lost  that  valour,  which 
till  then  had  made  them  awful  and  terrible  to  their 
neighbours  and  enemies.  They  seemed  to  have  lost 
the  very  use  of  speech;  not  daring  to  vent  the  least 
comphiint.  leH  it  should  be  made  a  capital  crime  in 
them.  Socrates  alone  continued  intrepid.  He  con- 
soled the  afflicted  senate,  animated  the  desponding 
citizens,  and  set  all  men  an  admirable  example  ol 
courage  and  resolution;  preserving  his  liberty,  and 
sustaining  his  part  in  the  midst  of  thirty  tyrants,  who 
made  all  else  tremble,  but  could  never  shake  the  con- 
stancy of  Socrates  with  their  menaces.  Critias,1  who 
had  been  his  pupil,  was  the  first  to  declare  most  open- 
ly against  him,  taking  offence  at  the  free  and  bold 
discourses  which  he  held  against  the  government  of 
lie  Thirty.  He  went  so  lar  as  to  prohibit  his  in- 
structing the  youth;  but  Socrates,  who  neither 
acknowledged  his  authority,  nor  feared  the  violent 
effects  of  it,  paid  no  regard  to  so  unjust  an  order. 

All  the  citizens  of  any  consideration  in  Athens, 
and  who  still  retained  a  love  of  liberty,  quitted  a 
place  reduced  to  so  harsh  and  shameful  a  slavery,  and 
sought  elsewhere  an  asylum  and  retreat,  where  they 
migrit  live  in  safety.  At  the  head  of  these  was  Thra- 
gybulus,  a  person  of  extraordinary  merit,  who  beheld 
wilh  the  most  lively  affliction  the  miseries  of  his  coun- 
try. The  Lacedaemonians  had  the  inhumanity  to 
endeavour  to  deprive  those  unhappy  fugitives  of  this 
last  resource.  They  published  an  edict  to  prohibit 
the  cities  of  Greece  from  giving  them  refuge,  decreed 
that  they  should  be  delivered  up  to  the  thirty  tyrants 
and  condemned  all  such  as  should  contravene  the 
execution  of  this  edict,  to  pay  a  fine  of  five  talents. 
Only  two  cities  rejected  with  disdain  so  unjust  an 
ordinance,  Megara  and  Thebes;  the  latter  of  which 
made  a  decree  to  punish  all  persons  whatsoever,  that 
should  see  an  Athenian  attacked  by  his  enemies  with- 
out doing  his  utmost  to  assist  him.  Ly  si  as,  an  orator 
of  Syracuse,  who  had  been  banished  by  the  Thirty, 
raised  500  soldiers  at  his  own  expense,1  and  sent  them 
to  the  aid  of  the  common  country  of  eloquence. 

Thrasybtilus  lost  no  time.  After  having  taken 
Phyla,  a  small  fort  in  Attica,  he  marched  to  the  Pirae- 
ens,  of  which  he  made  himself  master.  The  Thirty- 
flew  thither  with  their  troops,  and  a  warm  battle 
ensued.  But  as  the  soldiers  on  one  side  fought  with 
valour  and  vigour  for  their  liberty,  and  on  the  other 
with  indolence  and  indifference  for  the  power  of 
others,  the  success  was  not  doubtful,  but  followed  the 
better  cause.  The  tyrants  were  overthrown.  Critias 
was  killed  uj>on  Ihe  spot.  And  as  the  rest  of  the  army 
were  taking  to  flight, Thrasybulus  cried  out;  "  Where- 
fore do  you  fly  from  me  as  from  a  victor,  rather  than 
assist  me  as  the  avenger  of  your  liberty?  We  are  not 
enemies,  but  fellow-citizens;  nor  have  we  declared 
war  against  the  city,  but  against  the  thirty  tyrants." 
He  bade  them  remember,  that  they  had  the  same 
origin,  country,  laws,  and  religion;  he  exhorted  them 
to  compassionate  their  e'xiled  brethren,  to  restore  their 
country  to  them,  and  resume  their  liberty  themselves. 
This  discourse  made  a  due  impression.  The  army, 
upon  their  return  to  Athens,  expelled  the  Thirty,  and 
fubstitnted  ten  persons  to  govern  in  their  room,  whose 
conduct  proved  no  better  than  that  of  the  former. 

It  is  a  matter  of  surprise,  that  so  sudden,  so  uni- 
versnl,  so  tenacious,  and  so  uniform  a  conspiracy 
against  the  public  good,  should  always  actuate  the 
several  bodies  of  persons  established  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  this  government.  This  we  have  seen  in 
the  Four  Hundred  formerly  chosen  at  Athens;  a«;ain 
in  the  Thirty;  and  now  in  the  Ten.  And  what  aug- 
nienti  our  wonder  is,  that  this  passion  for  tyranny 
should  so  immediately  possess  republicans,  born  in 
tYt?.  !>'»om  of  liberty,  accustomed  to  an  equality  of 
condition  on  which  it  is  founded,  and  nurtured  from 
their  earliest  infancy  in  an  abhorrence  of  all  subjec- 
tion and  dependency.  There  must  be,*  on  the  one 


«  Xcnoph.  Memornb.  1.  i.  p.  716,  717. 

»  Qiiin^cntn*  mililcs,  Htipendio  sun  in*tructo*,  in  auxiUura 
atrisp  rommuni«  clo^iiontia  mi«it.     Justin.  1.  r.c.  9. 
*  Vi  domination!*  uonvulsuc.     Tacit. 


side,  in  power  and  authority  some  violent  impulse,  t« 
actuate  in  this  manner  so  many  persons,  of  whom 
many,  no  doubt,  were  not  without  sentiments  of  vir 
tue  and  honour;  and  to  banish  so  suddenly  the  prir. 
ciples  and  manners  natural  to  them:  and  on  the  oth« 
an  excessive  propensity  in  the.  mind  of  man  to  subje  \ 
his  equals,  ami  to  rule  over  them  imperiously,  to  carfj 
him  on  to  the  last  extremities  of  oppression  and  cru 
tlty,  and  to  make  him  forget  at  once  all  the  laws  ai 
nature  and  religion. 

The  Thirty  being  fallen  from  their  power  and 
hopes,  sent  deputies  to  Lacedaemon  to  demand  aid. 
It  was  not  Lysander's  fault,  who  was  sent  io  thew 
with  troops,  that  the  tyrants  were  not  re-established. 
But  king  Pausanias  who  likewise  marched  agauitt 
Athens,  moved  with  compassion  for  the  deplorable 
condition  to  which  a  city,  once  so  flourishing,  VM 
reduced,  had  the  generosity  to  favour  the  Athenian 
in  secret,  and  at  length  obtained  a  peace  for  tl  ent 
It  was  sealed  with  the  blood  of  the  tyrants,  who  liar 
ing  taken  arms  to  reinstate  themselves  in  the  govern 
ment,  and  being  present  at  a  parley  for  that  purpose 
were  all  put  to  the  sword,  and  left  Athens  in  the  full 
possession  of  its  liberty.  All  the  exiles  were  recalled. 
Thrasybulus  at  that  tin<e  proposed  the  celebrated 
amnesty,  by  which  the  citizens  engaged  upon  oath 
that  all  past  transactions  should  be  buried  in  obi  vion. 
The  government  was  re-established  upon  its  arcient 
foundation,  the  laws  restored  to  their  pristine  v-^our. 
and  magistrates  elected  with  the  usual  forms. 

I  cannot  forbear  observing  in  this  place  the  wisdom 
and  moderation  of  Thrasybulus,  so  salutary  and  es- 
sential after  so  long  a  continuance  of  domestic  trou- 
bles. This  is  one  of  the  finest  events  in  ancient 
history,  worthy  of  the  Athenian  lenity  and  benevo- 
lence, and  has  ser\ed  as  a  model  to  successive  ages 
in  good  governments. 

Never  had  tyranny  been  more  cruel  and  bloody  than 
that  which  the  Athenians  had  just  thrown  off.  Every 
house  was  in  mourning;  every  family  bewailed  the 
loss  of  some  relation.  It  had  been  a  series  of  public 
robbery  and  rapine,  in  which  license  and  impunity 
had  authorized  all  manner  of  crimes.  Private  indi- 
viduals seemed  to  have  a  right  to  demand  the  blood 
of  all  accomplices  in  such  notorious  malversations, 
and  even  the  interest  of  the  state  appeared  to  authorize 
such  a  claim,  that  by  exemplary  severities  such  enor- 
mous crimes  might  be  prevented  for  the  future.  But 
Thrasybulus  rising  above  those  sentiments,  from  the 
superiority  of  his  more  extensive  genius,  and  the  views 
of  a  more  discerning  and  profound  policy,  foresaw 
that  by  acquiescing  in  the  punishment  of  the  guilty, 
eternal  seeds  of  discord  and  enmity  would  remain,  to 
weaken,  by  domestic  divisions,  the  strength  of  the 
republic,  which  it  was  necessary  to  unite  against  the 
common  enemy,  and  occasion  the  loss  to  the  state  of 
a  great  number  of  citizens,  who  might  render  it  im- 
portant services  with  the  very  view  of  making  amends 
for  past  misbehaviour. 

Such  a  conduct  after  great  troubles  in  a  state  has 
always  seemed,  to  the  ablest  politicians,  the  most  cer- 
tain and  read)'  means  to  restore  the  public,  peace  and 
tranquillity.  Cicero,*  when  Rome  was  divided  into 
two  factions  upon  the  occasion  of  Ctesar's  death,  who 
had  been  killed  by  the  conspirators,  calling  to  mind 
this  celebrated  amnesty,  proposed,  after  t!ie  example 
of  the  Athenians,  to  bury  all  tha*t  had  passed  in  eter- 
nal oblivion.  Cardinal  Mazarin*  observed  to  Don 
Lewis  de  Haro,  prime  minister  of  Spain,  that  this 
gentle  and  humane  conduct  in  France  had  prevented 
the  troubles  and  revolts  of  that  kingdom  from  having 
any  fatal  consequences,  and  "that  the  king  had  not 
lost  a  foot  of  land  by  them  to  that  day;"  whereas 


«  In  Eedem  Telluris  convocati  aumu?;  in  quo  temple,  quan- 
tum in  me  fuit,  jcri  fundamontum  pae.is;  Atheniensiumqua 
renovavi  vetusexemplum.Qnecum  etiam*  verbum  usur|>,ivi, 
quod  turn  in  tednmli*  discordus  omirpaverat  civitas  ilia; 
•  tqufl  omnem  memoriam  discordiarum  obliviunc  sempitcrnl 
delendam  rensui.  Pfiilip.  i.  n.  i. 

•  Some  believe  thai  word  was  xuiomx  ;  but  as  it  a  not  (bund  >r  ttm 
hntornns  who  have  treated  Ihrs  fart,  it  n  more  Hkrly  that  il  WM  /"I  /*»»r. 
urnv,  which  hai  the  same  x-iae,  iiij  a\aai  by  them  all. 

Let.  XV.  of  Card.  Mai. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


351 


the  inflexible  severity  of  the  Spaniards  "  was  the 
occasion,  that  the  subjects  of  that  monarchy,  when- 
ever they  threw  off  the  mask,  never  returned  to  their 
obedience  but  by  the  force  of  arms;  which  sufficiently 
appear?,"  says  he,  "  in  the  example  of  the  Hollanders, 
who  are  in  the  peaceable  possession  of  manj  provin- 
ces, that  not  an  age  ago  were  the  patrimony  of  the 
kins:  of  Spain." 

Diodorus  Siculus  takes  occasion,  from  the  thirty 
tyrants  of  Athens,1  whose  immoderate  ambition  in- 
duced them  to  treat  their  country  with  the  most  ex- 
cessive cruelties,  to  observe  how  unfortunate  it  is  for 
persons  in  power  to  want  a  sense  of  honour,*  and  to 
disregard  either  the  present  opinion,  or  the  judgment 
which  posterity  will  form  of  their  conduct:  for  from 
the  contempt  of  reputation  the  transition  is  too  com- 
mon to  that  of  virtue  itself.  They  may  perhaps,  by 
the  dread  of  their  power,  suppress  for  some  time  the 
public  voice,  and  impose  a  furced  silence  upon  cen- 
sure; but  the  more  constraint  they  lay  upon  it  during 
their  lives,  the  more  liberal  will  it  be  after  their  deaths 
of  complaints  and  reproaches,  and  the  more  infamy 
and  imputation  will  be  affixed  to  their  memories. 
The  power  of  the  Thirty,  says  he,  was  of  a  very  short 
duration,  but  their  infamy  will  be  immortal;  their 
memory  will  be  held  in  abhorrence  throughout  all 
ages,  whilst  their  names  will  be  recorded  in  history 
onlv  to  render  them  odious,  and  to  make  their  crimes 
detestable.  He  applies  tke  same  reflection  to  the 
Lacedaemonians;  who,  after  having  made  themselves 
masters  of  Greece  by  a  wise  and  moderate  conduct, 
fell  from  that  glory,  through  the  severity,  haughtiness, 
and  injustice,  with  which  they  treated  their  allies. 
There  is  doubtless  no  reader,  whom  their  abject  and 
cruel  jealousy  in  regard  to  Athens  enslaved  and  hum- 
bled, has  not  prejudiced  against  them;  nor  do  we 
recognise  in  such  behaviour  the  greatness  of  mind 
and  noble  generosity  of  ancient  Sparta;  so  much 
power  has  the  lust  of  dominion  and  prosperitv  over 
even  virtuous  men.  Diodorus  concludes  his  reflec- 
tion with  a  maxim  very  true,  though  very  little  known: 
"The  greatness  and  majesty  of  princes,"  says  he  (and 
the  s«me  may  be  said  of  all  persons  in  high  authority,) 
"can  be  supported  only  by  humanity  and  justice  with 
regf.nl  to  their  subjects;  as,  on  the  contrary,  they  are 
ruined  and  destroyed  by  a  cruel  and  oppressive  gov- 
ernment, which  never  fails  to  draw  upon  them  the 
hatred  of  their  people." 

SECTION  III.— LYSANDER  ABUSES  HIS  POWER  IN 
AN  KXTRAORDINARY  MANNKR.  HE  IS  RECALLED 
TT)  SI'ARTA  UPON  THE  COMPLAINT  OF  PHARNA- 
BA/.VS. 

As  Lysanderhad  the  greatest  share  in  the  celebrated 
exploits,*  which  had  raised  the  glory  of  the  Lacedae- 
monians to  so  high  a  pitch;  so  had  he  acquired  a  de- 
gree of  power  and  authority  of  which  there  had  been 
BO  example  before  in  Sparta;  but  he  suffered  himself 
to  be  carried  away  by  a  presumption  and  vanity  still 
greater  than  his  power.  He  permitted  the  Grecian 
cities  to  dedicate  altars  to  him  as  to  a  god,  and  to  offer 
sacrifices,  and  sing  hymns  and  odes  in  honour  of  him. 
The  Saurian*  ordained  by  a  public  decree,  that  the 
lebrated  in  honour  of  Juno,  and  which  bore 
the  name  of  that  goddess,  should  be  called  the  feasts 
of  L.ysander.  He  had  always  a  crowd  of  poets  about 
him  'who  are  often  a  tribe  of  venal  flatterers,)  that 
vied  with  each  other  in  singing  his  great  exploits,  for 
which  they  were  magnificently  paid.  Praise  is  un- 
doubtedly due  to  noble  deeds;  but  it  diminishes  their 
lustre  when  either  extravagant  or  purchased. 

This  sort  of  vanity  and  ambition,  had  he  stopped 
there,  would  have  hurt  only  himself,  by  exposing  him 
to  envy  and  contempt;  but  a  natural  consequence  of 
tt  was,  that  through  his  arrogance  and  pride,  in  con- 

«    Died  1.  xi».  p.  234. 

*  Ofra  principihu*  rtatim  «des»e:   unnm  inratiabilirer 
paranilum   pronperam  cui  mcmoriam ;  nan  contcmpla  famii. 
contemni  virtutc* — Qud  majis   swrnrdmni   eorum    inridere 

ibrt.  qui  primenti  poirntia  rredunl  extinpoi  pone  cliam 
tequfntis  srvi  memnriam— fnum  cuique  decus  pucteritx 
epcndit.  Tatil.  .1«nal.  I.  iv.  c.  30.  i  35, 

•  Plut  in  Lys.  p.  443—445.  • 


junction  with  the  incessant  flatteries  of  those  around 
him.  he  carried  the  spirit  of  command  and  authority 
to  an  insupportable  excess,  and  observed  no  longer 
any  measure*  either  in  rewarding  or  punishing.  The 
absolute  government  of  cities  with  tyrannic  power 
were  the  fi  uits  of  his  friendship,  or  of  the  ties  of  hos- 
pitality with  him;  and  only  the  death  of  those  he 
hated  could  put  an  end  to  his  resentment  and  displea- 
sure, without  its  being  possible  to  escape  his  ven- 
geance. What  Svlla  caused  to  be  inscribed  upon  hit 
tomb,  might  with  equal  propriety  have  been  engraved 
upon  Lysander's:  that  no  man  had  ever  surpassed  him 
in  doing  good  to  his  friends,  or  evil  to  his  enemies. 

Treachery  and  perjury  cost  him  nothing  whenever 
they  promoted  his  designs;  nor  was  he  less  cruel  than 
revengeful;  of  which,  what  he  did  at  Miletus  was  a 
sufficient  proof.  Apprehending  that  the  leaders  of  the 
popular  party  would  escape  him,  he  swore  not  to  do 
them  any  hurt.  Those  unfortunate  persons  gave  cie- 
dit  to  his  oath,  and  no  sooner  appeared  in  public,  than 
they  were  put  to  the  sword  with  his  consent,  by  the 
nobility,  who  killed  them  all,  though  no  less  than 
800.  the  number  of  those  on  the  side  of  the  people, 
whom  he  caused  to  be  massacred  in  the  other  cities, 
is  incredible;  for  he  did  not  only  destroy  to  satiate  his 
own  individual  resentments,  but  to  serve  in  all  places 
the  enmity,  malice,  and  avarice  of  his  friends,  whom 
he  supported  ic  gratifying  their  passions  by  the  death 
of  their  enemies. 

There  was  no  kind  of  injustice  and  violence  which 
the  people  did  not  suffer  under  the  government  of 
Lysander;  whilst  the  Lacedaemonians,  who  were  suf- 
ficiently informed  of  his  conduct,  gave  themselves  no 
trouble  to  correct  it.  It  is  too  common  for  tnose  in 
power  to  be  little  affected  with  the  vexations  and 
oppressions  laid  upon  persons  of  low  condition  and 
credit,  and  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  their  just  complaints; 
though  authority  is  principally  confided  to  them  for 
the  defence  of  the  weak  and  poor,  who  have  no  other 
protectors.  But  if  such  remonstrances  are  made  by 
a  great  or  powerful  person,  from  whom  they  may  have 
any  thingto  hope  or  fear,  the  same  authority  that  was 
slow  ana  drowsy,  becomes  immediately  active  and 
officious;  a  certain  proof  that  it  is  not  the  love  of 
justice  that  actuates  it:  this  appears  here  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  Lacedaemonian  magistrates.  Pharnabazus, 
weary  of  Lysander's  repeated  enormities,  who  ravaged 
and  pillaged  the  provinces  under  his  command,  having 
sent  ambassadors  to  Sparta  to  complain  of  the  wrongs 
he  had  received  from  that  general,  the  Ephori  recalled 
him.  Lysander  was  at  that  time  in  the  Hellespont. 
The  letter  of  the  Ephori  threw  him  into  great  con- 
sternation. As  he  principally  feared  the  complaints 
and  accusations  of  Pharnabazus,  he  made  all  the  haste 
he  could  to  come  to  an  explanation  with  him  from  the 
hopes  of  softening  him,  aiid  making  his  peace.  He 
went  for  that  purpose  to  him,  ana  desired,  that  he 
would  write  another  letter  to  the  Ephori,  intimating 
that  he  was  satisfied  with  his  conduct.  But  Lysander, 
says  Plutarch,  in  such  an  application  to  Pharnabazus, 
forgot  the  proverb.*  Set  a  thi(f  to  catch  a  thief.  Th* 
satrap  promised  all  he  desired,  and  accordingly  wrote 
such  a  letter  in  Lysander's  presence  as  he  had  re- 
quested, but  he  had  prepared  another  to  a  quite  dif- 
ferent effect.  When  he  was  to  seal  it,  as  both  letter* 
were  of  the  same  size  and  form,  he  dexterously  put 
that  he  had  written  in  secret  in  the  place,  of  the  other, 
without  being  observed,  which  he  sealed  and  gave.  him. 

Lysander  departed  well  satisfied,  and  being  airivrd 
at  Sparta,  alighted  at  the  pnlace  where  the  senate  was 
assembled,  and  delivered  Pharnabazus's  letter  to  the 
Ephori.  But  he  was  strangely  surprised  when  he 
heard  the  contents,  and  withdrew  in  extreme  confu- 
sion and  disorder.  Some  days  after  he  returned  to 
the  senate,  and  told  the  Ephori,  that  he  was  obliged 
to  go  to  the  temple  of  Ammon  to  accuit  himself  of  the 
sacrifices  he  had  vowed  to  that  god  before  his  battles. 
That  pilgrimage  was  no  more  than  a  pretence  to  con- 
ceal the  pain  it  gave  him  to  live  as  a  private  person 
in  Sparta,  and  to  submit  to  the  yoke  of  »beying;  he, 


'  The  Greek  i«,  Cretan  aguiuft  CreUn,  u  the  people  of 
Crete  passed  for  the  greatest  cheati  and  lian  in  the  wotA 


352 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


who  till  then  had  always  governed.  Accustomed  long 
to  commanding  armies,  and  to  the  flattering  distinc- 
tions of  a  kind  of  sovereignty  exercised  by  him  in 
Asia,  he  could  not  endure  th'at  mortifying  equality 
which  put  him  on  a  level  with  the  multitude,  nor  re- 
duce himself  to  the  simplicity  of  a  private  life.  Hav- 
ing obtained  permission,  not  without  great  difficulties, 
he  embarked. 

As  soon  as  he  wa*  gone,  the  kings,  reflecting  that 
he  held  all  the  cities  in  dependence  upon  himself,  by 
the  means  of  the  governors  and  magistrates  who  hail 
been  established  bv  him,  and  who  were  also  indebted 
to  him  for  their  unlimited  authority,  and  that  he  was 
thereby  effectually  lord  and  master  of  all  Greece,  ap- 
plied themselves  vigorously  to  restore  the  government 
of  the  people,  and  to  d_epose  all  his  creatures  and 
friends  from  any  share  in  it.  This  alteration  occa- 
sioned great  tumults  at  first.  About  the  same  time, 
Lysander,  being  apprized  of  the  design  of  Thrasybu- 
lu.s  to  re-establish  the  liberty  of  his  country,  returned 
with  the  utmost  diligence  to  Sparta,  and  endeavoured 
to  engage  the  Lacedaemonians  to  support  the  party  of 
the  nobilitv  at  Athens.  We  have  before  observed, 
that  Pausanias,  from  a  more  noble  spirit  of  equity  and 
generosity,  gave  peace  to  Athens,  and  by  that  means, 
•ays  Plutarch,  clipped  the  wings  of  Lysander's  am- 
bition. 


Homer  says  of  Phoenix  the  governor  of  AchiUtu 
"That  he  was  equally  capable  of  forming  his  pupi 
for  eloquence  or  arms." 


'  I,ui 


ifj 


CHAPTER  II.     - 

THE  YOUNGER  CYRUS,  WITH  THE  AID  OF  THE 
GRECIAN  TROOPS,  ENDEAVOURS  TO  DETHRONE 
HIS  UROTHER  ARTAXERXES.  HE  IS  KILLED  LN 
KATTIX.  FAMOUS  RETREAT  OF  THE  TEN  THOU- 
SAND. 

ANTIQUITY  has  few  events  go  memorable  as  those 
I  am  about  to  relate  in  this  place.  We  see  on  one 
nide  a  young  prince,  in  other  respects  abounding  with 
excellent  qualities,  but  abandoned  to  his  violent  am- 
bition, carrying  war  from  a  distance  against  his  brother 
and  sovereign,  and  going  to  attack  him  almost  in  hi? 
own  palace,  with  the  view  of  depriving  him  at  once 
of  his  crown  and  life;  we  gee  him,  I  sav,  fall  dead  in 
the  battle  at  the  feet  of  that  brother,  a'nd  terminate, 
by  so  unhappy  a  fate,  an  enterprise  equally  glaring 
and  criminal.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Greeks  who 
follow  him,1  destitute  of  all  succour  after  the  loss  of 
their  chiefs,  without  allies,  provisions,  money,  cavalry, 
or  archers,  reducer!  to  less  than  10,000  men,  with  no 
resource  hut  in  their  ot%ii  p'^ons  and  valour,  sup- 
ported solely  by  the  ardent  desire  of  preserving  tlieir 
liberty,  and  of  returning  to  their  native  countries; 
these  Greeks,  with  bold  and  intrepid  resolution,  make 
their  retreat  before  a  victorious  army  of  1,000.000 
of  men,  traverse  five  or  six  hundred  It-agues,  notwith- 
standing vast  rivers  and  innumerable  defile?,  am!  arrive 
at  last  in  their  own  country,  through  a  thousand  fierce 
and  barbarous  nations,  victorious  over  all  obstacles 
in  their  way,  and  over  all  the  dangers  which  either 
concealed  fraud  or  open  force  reduce  them  to  undergo. 

This  retreat,  in  the  opinion  of  the  best  jndgrs  and 
most  exptrienced  military  men,  is  the  boldest  and 
best  conducted  exploit  to  be  found  in  ancient  history, 
and  i*  deemed  a  perfect  model  in  its  kind.  Happily 
for  us  it  in  described  with  the  utmost  minuteness  by 
an  hi-t  irian  who  was  not  only  eye-witness  of  the  facts 
be  relates,  hut  the  first  mover,  the  soul  of  this  great 
enterprise.  I  shall  only  abridge  his  history,  and  ab-. 
straci  its  most  material  circumstances;  but  I  cannot 
omit  advising  young  persons  who  make  arms  their 
>n.  to  consult  the  original,  of  which  there  is  a 
good  translation  extant,  though  far  short  of  the  ad- 
mirable beauties  of  the  text.  It  is  very  difficult  to 
m«  et  «;th  a  more  able  m««ter  th«n  Xenophon  in  the 
art  of  war,  to  whom  may  be  well  applied  here  what 

»  P«*i  Miirtnm  C>ri,ncquc  armig  a  tanto  pxcrritu  »incl, 
ooqiif  loin  ra|ii  poluerurit ;  re»crtenlc«]ue  inter  tot  indomi- 
tas  imtiuncx  et  barbara*  jftntf1*,  per  tantn  itineri*  rpatia, 
viriuie  *e  usque  '.ermine*  patrie  (iof-nderunt.  Jtntin  I 
t  c  II. 


SECTION  I.—  CYRUS  RAISES  TROOPS  SECRETLY 
AGAINST  HIS  BROTHER  ARTAXEKXHS.  THIRTEEN 
THOUSAND  GREEKS  JUIN  HIM.  HE  SETS  GUT 
FROM  SARDIS,  AM)  ARRIVES  AT  UAi'.YLl.MA  AF 
TER  A  MARCH  OF  MORE  THAIS'  SIX  .-MONTHS. 

WE    have    already    said,8    that 
young  Cyrus,  son  of  Darius  Nothus  A.  M.  3C90 

and  Parysatis,  saw  with  pain  his  Ant.  J.  C.  404 
elder  brother  Artaxerxes  upon  the 
throne,  and  that  at  the  very  time  the  latter  was  takin* 
possession  of  it,  he  had  attempted  to  deprive  him  of 
his  crown  and  life  together.  Ai  taxerxes  was  not  in- 
sensible of  what  he  had  to  fear  from  a  broth*  r  of  his 
enterprising  and  ambitious  spirit,  but  could  not  refus* 
pardoning  him  to  the  prayers  and  tears  of  his  mother 
1'arysatis,  who  doted  upon  this  youngest  son.  He 
sent  him  therefore  into  Asia  to  his  government;  con- 
fiding to  him,  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of  policy,  an 
absolute  authority  over  the  provinces  lilt  him  by  the 
will  of  the  king  his  lather. 

As  soon  as  he  arrived  there,  his 
thoughts  were  solely  intent  upon  A.M.  3601. 

revenging  the  at)  runt  he  supposed  Ant.  J.  C.  -J03. 
he  had  received  from  his  brother, 
and  to  dethrone  him.  He  received  all  that  came  from 
the  court  with  great  favour  and  affability,  to  im  u'e 
them  insensibly  to  quit  the  king's  party  and  adhere  to 
him.  He  gained  also  the  hearts  of  the  Barbarians 
under  his  government;  familiarizing  himself  witti 
them,  and  mingling  with  the  common  soldierv, 
though  without  forgetting  the  dignity  of  <he  general; 
and  these  he  formed  by  various  exercises  lor  sen  ice 
in  war.  He  applied  particularly  to  raise  secretly  in 
several  places,  and  upon  different  prtUxt*,  a  bo<\  of 
Grecian  troops,  upon  whom  he  relied  much  more 
than  upon  those  of  the  Barbarians.  Clearrhus  retired 
to  his  court  after  having  been  banished  from  - 
and  was  of  great  service  to  him,  being  an  able,  ex- 
perienced, and  valiant  captain.  At 
the  same  time  several  cities  in  the  A.  M.  3602. 

provinces  under  the  government  of  Ant.  J.  C.  40-. 
Tissaphernes  revolted  from  their 
obedience,  and  placed  themselves  under  the  jurisi'ic- 
tion  of  Cyrus.  This  incident,  which  was  not  an  <  fleet 
of  chance,  but  of  the  secret  intrigues  of  that  prince, 
gave  birth  to  a  war  between  them.  Cyrus,  under  the 
pretence  of  arming  against  Tissaphernts,  assembled 
troops  with  less  reserve;  and  to  amuse  the  couit  the 
more  speciously,  sent  grievous  complaints  to  the  king 
against  that  governor,  demanded  his  protection  and 
aid  in  the  most  submissive  manner.  Artaxerx>>  «  rn 
deceived  by  these  appearances,  and  believed  that  all 
Cyrus's  preparations  were  directed  against  Tissaphi  r- 
nes  alone,  and  continued  quiet  from  the  assurance  of 
having  nothing  to  apprehend  for  himself. 

Cyrus  knew  wtll  how  to  take  advantage  of  the  im- 
prudent security  and  indolence  of  his  brother,*  which 
some  people  conceived  the  effect  of  his  goodness  and 
humanity.  And  indeed  in  the  beginning  of  hit  ft  igp 
he  seemed  to  imitate  the  virtues  of  the  first  Artaxt-r- 
xe»,  whose  name  he  bore.  For  he  demeaned  himself 
with  great  mildness  and  affability  to  such  as  approai  fl- 
ed him;  he  honoured  and  rewarded  magnificently,  «ll 
those  whose  services  had  merited  fat  our;  when  lie 
passed  sentence  of  punishment,  it  was  without  either 
outrage  or  insult;  and  when  he  made  pnsent*.  il  waj 
with  a  gracious  air,  and  such  engaging  manner*,  as 
Infinitely  exalted  their  value,  and  implied,  that  he  wrt» 
never  better  pleased  than  when  he  had  an  opj.  :  unity 
of  doing  good  to  his  subjects.  To  all  these  excellent 
qualities  he  ought  to  have  added  one  no  less  rovai, 
and  which  would  have  put  him  upon  his  guard  against 


•  Iliad.  1.  v.  443. 

•  Dkxl.  I.  xiv.  p.  243—249,  and  252.     Jmtin.  I.  r.  e.  II 
Xenoph   He  Cyri  Expert  I   i.  ji.  243— 24& 

•  Plut.  in  Xrtax.  p.  1013 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


353 


(he  rnterprises  of  a  brother,  whose  character  he  ought 
to  have  known:  I  mean  a  wise  foresight  that  pene- 
trates the,  future,  and  renders  a  prince  attentive  to 
prevent  or  frustrate  whatever  may  disturb  the  tran- 
quillity of  the  stale. 

The  emissaries  of  Cyrus  at  the  court  were  perpet- 
nallv  dnpening  reports  anil  opinion?  amongst  the 
people,  to  prepare  their  minrls  for  the  intended  change 
and  revolt.  They  said  that  the  state  required  a  king 
of  Cyrus's  character;  a  king,  magnificent,  liberal, 
who  loved  war,  and  showered  iiis  favours  upon  those 
that  served  him ;  and  that  it  was  necessary  for  the 
pran'leur  of  the  empire  to  have  a  prince  upon  the 
throne  fired  with  ambition  and  valour,  for  the  support 
«nd  augmentation  of  its  glory. 

The  young  prince  lost  no  time  on 
A    M.  360.3.     hi*  side,  and  hastened  the  execution 
Ant.  J.  C.  401.     of  his  great  design.     He  was  then 
onlv  twentv-three  years  old  at  most. 
After  the  important  services  he  had  done  the  Lacedae- 
monians, without  whirh  they  had  never  obtained  the 
victories  that  had   made  them  masters  of  Greece,  he 
thought  he  might  safely  open  himself  to  them.     He 
therrfore  imparted  to  them  the  present  situation  of 
hi*  affair*,  and  the  end  he  had  in   view;    convinced 
that  such  a  confidence  could  not  but  incline  them  the 
more  in  his  favour. 

In  the  letter  he  wrote  them,  he  spoke  of  himself  in 
verv  magnifict  nl  terms.  He  told  them  he  had  a 
greater  and  more  royal  heart  than  hi*  brother;  that 
he  was  better  versed  in  the  philosophy  and  the  know- 
litige  of  the  Magi,1  aiv.l  that  he  could  drink  more  wine 
without  being  disordered  in  his  senses;  a  very  m<  rit- 
or  ous  quality  amongst  the  Barbarians,  but  not  so 
proper  to  recommend  him  to  the  good  opinion  of 
those  to  whom  he  was  writing.  The  Laced;emonians 
sent  orders  to  their  fleet  to  join  that  of  the  prince 
imniP'liaU'ly,  and  to  obey  the  commands  of  Tamos 
his  arliniraf  in  all  things,  bat  without  the  least  men- 
tion of  \rtaxerxes,  or  seeming  in  any  manner  privy 
to  his  design  They  thought  that  precaution  neces- 
sary for  their  justification  with  Artaxerxes,*  in  case 
affairs  should  happen  to  terminate  in  his  favour. 

The  troops  of  Cyrus,  according  to  the  review  after- 
wards made,  consisted  of  13,000  Greek?,  which  were 
the  (lower  and  chief  force  of  his  army,  and  100,000 
regular  troops  of  the  barbarous  nations.  Clearchus, 
the  Lacedaemonian,  commanded  all  the  Peloponnesian 
'•xcept  the  Acheans,  who  had  Socrates  of 
Achan  for  their  leader.  The  Boeotians  were  under 
Provenus  the  Theban,  and  the  Thes-alians  under 
Menon.  The  Barbarians  had  Persian  general',5  of 
whom  the  chief  wa«  Arfcpus.  The  fleet  consisted  of 
thirty-five  ships  under  Pythagoras  the  Lacedaemonian, 
mi:l  twenty-five  commanded  by  Tamos  the  ,T.gyp- 
tian,  admiral  of  the  whole  fleet.  It  followed  the  land 
annv,  coasting1  along  near  the  shore. 

Cyrus  had  opened  his  mind  to  Clearchus  alone  of 
all  the  Greeks,  foreseeing  aright  that  the  length  and 
boldness  of  the  enterprise  could  not  fail  of  discourag- 
ing and  dismaying  the  officers,  as  well  as  soldier*. 
He  made  it  his  sole  application  t»  gain  their  affections 
during  the  march,  by  treating  them  with  kindness  and 
humanity,  conversing  freelv  with  them,  and  giving 
effectual  or  ler»  that  they  should  want  for  nothing. 
Proxenus,  between  whose  family  and  Xenophon'i  an 
ancient  frieivMtip  subsisted,  presented  that  young 
Athenian  to  Cyrus,  who  received  him  very  favourably,* 
•nd  gave  him  an  employment  in  his  army  amongst 
he  Greek*.  He  set  out  from  Sard  is  at  length,  and 
marched  towards  the  upper  provinces  of  Asia.  The 
troop*  knew  neither  the  occasion  of  the  war,  nor  into 
what  countries  they  were  going.  Cyrus  had  only 
cau«ed  it  to  be  riven  out,  that  he  was  carrying  his 
an. is  against  the  Pisidians,  who  had  infested  his  pro- 
v'.nce  by  their  incursions. 


'   By  the  knowledge  of  the    Musi,  amonfftt  the  Peniani, 

WB-i  nvniii  the  ^-icni-e  of  religion  nnrl  sovernment. 

•  Clu.i'tviitrs  apucl  Cyrum  praiiam  ;  et  apud  Artaxerxem, 
tl  vins-t't.  venirr  patrorinia    rum  niliil  adversus  cum  aportd 
•errpvittrnl.    Jvf.in  I   v.  c.  11. 

•  Xcnnph.  *>ri  Expod.  1.  i.  p.  232. 

•  Xenoph.  l.'iii.  p.  S94. 

Vou  1.— 45 


Tissaphernes,*  rghtly  judging  that  all  these  prepa 
rations  were  too  jrtat  for  so  insignificant  an  enter- 
prise as  against  Pls.dia,  had  set  out  tx>st  from  Milelu* 
to  give  the  king  an  account  of  them.  Tins  new* 
occasioned  great  trouble  at  court.  Parysati«,  the 
mother  of  Artaxerxes  and  Cyrus,  was  looked  upon 
as  the  principal  cause  of  this  war;  and  nil  persons  in 
her  service  and  interest  were  suspected  of  holding 
intelligence  with  Cyrus.  Statira  especially,  the.  reign- 
ing queen,  reproached  her  incessantly  in  the  most 
violent  terms.  "  Where  is  now,"  said  she  to  her, 
"that  faith  you  have  so  often  engaged  for  your  son's 
behaviour?  Where  those  ardent  prayers  you  em- 
ployed  to  preserve  from  death  that  conspirator  against 
his  king  and  brother?  It  is  your  unhappy  fondnes* 
that  has  kindled  this  war,  and  plunged  us  into  an 
abyss  of  misfortunes."  The  antipathy  and  hatred  of 
the  two  queens  for  each  other  were  already  very 
great,  and  were  still  more  inflamed  by  such  warm  re- 
proaches. We  shall  see  what  the  consequences  were. 
Artaxerxes  assembled  a  numerous  army  to  receive 
his  brother. 

Cyrus  advanced  continually  by  long  marches.* 
What  troubled  him  most  on  the  way  was  the  pass  of 
Cilicia,  which  was  a  narrow  defile  between  very  high 
and  steep  mountains,  that  would  admit  no  more  than 
one  carriage  to  pass  at  a  time.  Syennesis,  king  of 
the  country,  was  preparing  to  dispute  this  pass  with 
him,  and  would  infallibly  have  succeeded  but  for  the 
diver»ion  made  by  Tamos  with  his  fleet,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  that  of  the  Lacedaemonians.  To  defend  the 
coasts  against  the  insults  of  the  fleet,  Syennesis  aban- 
doned that  important  post,  which  a  small  body  of 
troop*  might  have  made  good  against  the  greatest 
army. 

When  they  arrived  at  Tarsus,  the  Greeks  refused 
to  advance  any  farther,  rightly  suspecting  that  they 
were  marching  against  the  king,  and  loudly  exclaim- 
ing that  they  bad  not  entered  into  the  service  upon 
that  condition.  Clearchug,  who  commanded  them, 
had  occasion  for  all  his  address  and  ability  to  stifle 
this  commotion  in  its  birth.  At  first  he  made  use  of 
authority  and  force,  but  with  very  ill  success,  and 
desisted  therefore  from  an  open  opposition  to  their 
sentiments:  he  even  affected  to  enter  into  their  view*, 
and  to  support  them  with  his  approbation  and  influ- 
ence. He  ileclared  publicly,  that  he  would  not  sepa> 
rate  himself  from  them,  and  advised  them  to  depute 
persons  to  the  prince,  to  know  from  his  own  mouth 
against  whom  they  were  to  be  led,  that  they  might 
follow  him  voluntarily  if  they  approved  his  measures: 
if  not,  that  they  might  demand  hi*  permission  to 
withdraw.  By  this  artful  evasion  he  appeased  the 
tumult,  and  made  them  easy,  and  they  chose  him 
and  some  other  officers  for  their  deputies.  Cyrus, 
whom  he  had  secretly  apprized  of  every  thing,  made 
answer,  that  he  was  going  to  attack  Abrocomas7  hi* 
enemy,  who  was  encamped  at  twelve  days'  march 
from  thence  upon  the  Euphrates.  When  this  answer 
was  repeated  to  them,  though  they  plainly  saw  against 
whom  they  were  going,  they  resolved  to  proceed, 
and  only  demanded  an  augmentation  of  their  pay. 
Cyrus,  instead  of  one  darick  8  a  month  to  each  soldier, 
promised  to  give- them  one  and  a  half. 

Some  time  after,  Cyrus  was  informed  that  two  of 
the  principal  officers,  upon  account  of  a  private  quar- 
rel with  Clearchus,  had  deserted  with  part  of  theif 
equipage  on  board  a  merchant  ship.  Many  were  of 
opinion,  that  it  was  proper  to  send  some  galleys  after 
them,  which  j>ight  be  done  with  great  ease;  and  that 
when  they  were  brought  back,  they  should  be  made 
an  example,  by  suffering  death  in  the  sight  of  the 
whole  army.  Cyrus,  convinced  that  favour  was  the 
most  certain  mean*  to  obtain  affection,*  and  that 
punishments,  like  violent  remedies,  ought  never  to  be 
!!*»••»  but  in  extreme  necessity,  declared  publicly  that 

»  Plut.  in  Artax.  p.  1014.  •  Xenoph.  I.  i.  p.  24*-*;i 

'  It  n  not  said  where  hr  commanded.  It  uppeari  to  be 
npon  the  Euphrates.  He  marched  with  300.0HO  men  to  Join 
the  kind's  army,  hut  did  not  arrive  till  after  the  battle. 

•  Too  dari'-k  wa*  worth  ten  lirre*. 

•  Beneficii*  potiu*  quam  remediii  ingenio  eipcrin  ptteeiL 
Pit*,  in  Traj 


354 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


fce  would  not  suffer  it  to  be  said  that  he  had  detained 
my  one  in  his  service  by  force,  and  added,  that  he 
would  send  them  their  wives  and  children,  whom  they 
Lad  left  as  hostages  in  his  hands. 

An  answer  displaying  so  much  wisdom  and  gene- 
rosity had  a  surprising  effect;  and  made  even  those 
his  firm  adherents,  who  were  before  inclined  to  retire. 
This  is  an  excellent  lesson  for  all  who  govern.  There 
is  in  the  mind  of  man  a  fund  of  natural  generosity, 
which  it  is  necessary  to  know  and  to  pul  in  play. 
Threats  exasperate  them,  and  chastisement  makes 
them  revolt,  when  endeavours  are  used  to  force  them 
to  do  their  duty  against  their  will.  They  desire  a 
certain  degree  of  confidence  in  their  honour,'  and 
that  the  glory  of  discharging  their  duty  through 
choice  be  left  in  their  power:  to  show  that  you  believe 
men  faithful,  is  often  the  best  means  to  make  them  so. 

Cyrus  soon  after  declared,  that  he  was  marching 
against  Artaxerxes.  Upon  which  some  murmuring 
was  heard  at  first,  but  it  soon  gave  place  to  the  ex- 
pressions of  joy  and  satisfaction,  occasioned  by  that 
prince's  magnificent  promises  to  the  army. 

As  Cyrus  advanced  by  long  marches,*  he  was  in- 
formed from  all  parts,  that  the  king  did  not  intend  to 
come  directly  to  a  battle,  but  had  resolved  to  wait  in 
the  heart  of  Persia  till  all  his  forces  were  assembled; 
and  that,  to  stop  his  enemies,  he  had  ordered  to  be 
dug  in  the  plains  of  Babylon,  a  ditch  of  five  fathoms 
broad,  and  three  deep,  extending  the  space  of  twelve 
parasangas,8  or  leagues,  from  the  Euphrates  to  the 
wail  of  Media.  Between  the  Euphrates  and  the  fosse 
a  way  had  been  left  of  twenty  feet  in  breadth,  by 
which  Cyrus  passed  with  his  whole  army,  which  he 
had  reviewed  the  day  before.  The  king  had  neglect- 
ed to  dispute  this  pass  with  him,  and  suffered  him  to 
continue  his  march  towards  Babylon.  It  was  Tiriba- 
tus  who  made  him  resolve  not  to  fly  in  such  a  man- 
ner before  an  enemy,  over  whom  he  had  infinite  ad- 
vantages, as  well  from  the  number  of  his  troops  as 
the  valour  of  his  general?.  He  resolved  therefore  to 
advance  against  the  enemy. 

SECTION  II.— THE  BATTLE  OF  CUXAXA.  THE 
GREEKS  ARE  VICTORIOUS  ON  THEIR  SIDE,  AR- 
TAXERXES ON  HIS.  CYRUS  IS  KILLED. 

THE  place  where  the  battle  was  fought,4  was  called 
Cnnaxa,  about  twenty-five  leagues*  from  Babylon. 
The  army  of  Cyrus  consisted  of  13,000  Greeks, 
100,000  Barbarians,  and  twenty  chariots  armed  with 
icythcs.  That  of  the  enemy  in  horse  and  foot  might 
amount  to  about  1,200,000,  under  four  generals,  Tis- 
saphernes,  Gobryas,  Arbaces,  and  Abrocomas,  with- 
out including  6000  chosen  horse,  that  fought  where 
the  king  was  present,  and  never  quitted  his  person. 
But  Abrocomas,  who  had  the  command  of  300,000 
men,  did  not  arrive  till  five,  days  after  the  battle.  In 
the  king's  army  were  only  150  chariots  armed  with 
•cythes. 

Cyrus  believed,  from  the  enemy's  not  having  de- 
fended the  pass  at  the  fosse,  that  there  would  be  no 
battle;  so  that  the  next  day  the  army  marched  with 
great  negligence.  But  on  the  third,  Cyrus  being  in 
nil  chariot,  with  few  soldiers  in  their  ranks  before  him, 
and  the  rest  marching  without  any-  order,  or  having 
their  arms  carried  for  them,  a  horseman  came  in  fuU 
speed,  crying  out  as  he  passed,  that  the  enemy  were 
approaching  in  order  of  battle.  Upon  this,  great  con- 
fusion ensued,  from  the  apprehension  that  they  should 
not  have  time  to  draw  up  the  army  Cyrus,  leaping 
from  his  chariot,  put  on  his  arms  immediately,  and 
getting  on  horseback  with  his  javfTtn  in  his  hand,  he 


i  Vrscin  an  plua  moribu*  conferet  princepa,  qui  bonos  ewe 
palitur.  quam  qui  cogit.  Pliti.  ibid. 

Plernm<|ue  habits  fidea  ipsam  obligat  fidcm.  IAV. 

•  Plut.  in  Arttti.  p.  1014.     Xenop.  I.  i.  p.  2Til— 266. 

»  The  Pnrasanga  i«  a  road  mcnsuru  peculiar  to  the  t*er- 
liani.  It  win  commonly  thirty  Madia,  which  make  about  a 
leujue  srd  a  half  French.  Some  were  from  twenty  to  sixty 
itadia.  In  the  march  of  Cyrus's  army,  I  suppose  the  para- 
MM*:-!  only  twenty  iludia,  or  one  league,  for  reasons  I  shall 
giv(>  hereafter. 

«  Xenoph.  in  Exped.  Cyr.  *  i.  p.  2G3— 266.  Diod.  1.  XIT. 
•  25:).  254.  Plut.  p.  1014— 1017 

•  five  hundred  stadia. 


gave  orders  universally  to  the  troops  to  stand  to  tliei* 
iirms,  and  fall  into  their  ranks;  which  <vas  executed 
with  so  much  expedition,  that  the  troops  had  not  time 
to  refresh  themselves. 

Cyrus  posted  upon  his  right  1000  Paphlagonian 
horse, supported  by  the  Euphrates, and  the  light-uruied 
infantry  of  the  Greeks;  and  next  them,  Clearchui 
Proxenus,  and  (he  rest  of  the  general  oliicers  to  Me- 
non,  at  the  head  of  their  severaTcorps.  The  left  wing, 
composed  of  Lydians,  Phrygians,  and  other  Asiatic 
nations,  was  commanded  by  Ariaaus,  who  had  1000 
horse,  Cyrus  placed  bisMeififl  the  centre,  where  the 
chosen  troops  of  the  Persians  and  other  Barbaiiani 
were  posted.  He  hbd  around  him  600  horsemen, 
armed  at  all  points,  as  were  their  horses,  Aith  front- 
lets and  breast- plates.  The  prince's  head  was  un- 
covered, as  were  those  of  all  the  Persians,  whosa 
custom  it  was  to  give  battle  in  that  manner;  the  arms 
of  all  his  people  were  red,  and  those  of  Artaxerxes 
were  white. 

A  little  before  the  onset,  Clearchus  advised  Cyrus, 
not  to  charge  in  person,  but  to  cover  himself  in  the 
rear  of  the  Grecian  battalions.  "  What  is  it  you  say?" 
replied  Cyrus;  "at  the  time  I  am  endeavouring  to 
make  myself  king,  would  you  have  me  show  myself 
unworthy  of  being  so?"  That  wise  and  generous 
answer  proves,  that  he  knew  the  duty  of  a  general, 
especially  on  a  day  of  battle.  Had  he  withdrawn 
when  his  presence  was  most  necessary,  it  would  have 
argued  his  want  of  courage,  and  intimidated  others. 
It  is  necessary  always,  however,  preserving  the  due 
distinction  between  the  leader  and  the  troops,  that 
their  clanger  should  be  common,  and  no  one  exempt 
from  it;  lest  the  latter  should  be  alarmed  by  a  differ- 
ent conduct.  Courage  in  an  army  depends  upon 
example,  upon  the  desire  of  being  distinguished,  the 
fear  of  dishonour,  the  incapacity  of  doing  otlu-ru  Ise 
than  the  rest,  and  the  equality  ol  danger.  If  Cyrus  had 
retired,  it  would  have  either  ruined,  or  greatly  weak- 
ened, all  thesp  potent  motives,  by  discouraging  the 
officers  as  well  as  soldiers  of  his  army.  He  thought, 
that  being  their  general,  it  was  incumbent  upon  him 
to  discharge  all  the  functions  of  that  office,  and  to 
show  himself  worthy  to  be  the  leader  and  soul  of  fu-:h 
a  number  of  valiant  men,  ready  to  shed  their  blood 
for  his  service. 

It  was  now  noon,  and  the  enemy  did  not  yet  appear. 
But  about  three  of  the  clock  a  great  dust  like  a  u  hita 
cloud  arose,  followed  soon  after  with  a  blackness  that 
overspread  the  whole  plain;  after  which  was  seen  tha 
glittering  of  armour,  lances,  and  standards.  Tissa« 
phernes  commanded  the  left,  which  consisted  of  ca- 
valry armed  with  white  cuirasses,  and  of  light-amied 
infantry;  in  the  centre  was  the  heavy -armed  foot,  a 
great  part  of  which  had  bucklers  made  of  wood  which 
covered  the  soldier  entirely  (thest-  were  Egyptians.) 
The  rest  of  the  light-armed  infantry  and  ot  the  horsa 
formed  the  right  wing.  The  foot  were  dra-,vn  up  by 
nations,  with  as  much  depth  as  front,  ?.ir.!  in  that  or- 
der composed  square  battalions.  The  king  had  |>>>>ted 
himself  in  the  main  body  with  the  flower  of  the  whole 
army,  and  had  6000  horse  for  his  f,uard,  commanded 
by  Artagerses.  Though  he  was  in  the  centre,  In  was 
beyond  the  left  wing  of  Cyrus's  army,  so  much  did 
the  front  of  his  own  exceed  that  of  the  enemy  in  ex- 
tent. A  hundred  and  fifty  chariots  armed  with 
scythes  were  placed  in  the  front  of  the  army  at  some 
distance  from  one  another.  The  scythes  were  fixed 
to  the  axle  downwards  and  aslant,  so  as  to  cut  duwa 
and  overthrow  all  before  them. 

As  Cyrus  relied  very  much  upon  the  valourancl  ex 
perience  of  the  Greeks,  he  bade  Clearchus,  as  soon 
as  he  had  beaten  the  enemies  in  his  front,  to  take  rare 
to  incline  to  his  left,  and  fall  upon  the  centre,  where 
the  king  was  posted — the  success  of  the  battle  dej-f  ml- 
ing  upon  that  attack.  But  Clearchus,  finding  it  very 
difficult  to  make  his  way  through  so  great  a  body  of 
troops,  replied,  that  he  need  be  in  no  pain,  and  that 
he  would  take  care  to  do  what  was  necessary. 

The  enemy  in  the  mean  time  advanced  slowly  and 
in  good  order.  Cyrus  marched  in  the  space  between 
the  two  armies,  though  nearest  to  his  own,  and  con 
sidered  both  of  them  with  great  attention.  Xenophon 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


355 


perceiving  him,  spurred  directly  up  to  him  to  know 
whether  he  had  any  farther  orders  to  give.  He  called 
out  to  him,  that  the  sacrifices  were  favourable,  and 
that  he  should  tell  the  troops  so.  He  then  hastened 
through  the  ranks  to  give  his  orders,  and  showed  him- 
•elf  to  the  soldiers  with  such  a  joy  and  serenity  in  his 
countenance,  as  inspired  them  with  new  courage,  and 
at  the  same  time  with  an  air  of  kindness  and  familiar- 
ity, that  excited  their  zeal  and  affection.  It  is  not 
easy  to  comprehend  what  great  effects  are  produced 
by  a  word,  a  kind  air,  or  a  look  of  a  general,  upon  a 
clay  of  action;  and  with  what  ardour  a  common  man 
will  rush  into  ditnger,  when  he  believes  himself  not 
unknown  to  his  general,  and  thinks  his  valour  will 
•blige  him. 

Artaxerxes  moved  on  continually,  though  with  a 
alow  pare,  and  without  noise  and  confusion.  That 
food  order  and  exact  discipline  extremely  surprised 
the  Greeks,  who  expected  to  see  much  hurry  and  tu- 
mult in  so  great  a  multitude,  and  to  hear  confused 
cries,  as  Cyrus  had  foretold  them. 

The  armies  were  not  distant  above  four  or  five  hun- 
dred paces,  when  the  Greeks  began  to  sing  the  hymn 
of  battle,  and  to  march  on,  slowly  at  first,  and  with 
lilence.  When  they  came  near  the  enemy,  they 
»et  up  great  cries,  striking  their  darts  upon  their 
shields  to  frighten  the  horse,  and  then  moving  alto- 
gether, thev  sprung  forwards  upon  the  Barbarians 
witli  all  their  force,  who  did  not  wait  their  charge, 
but  took  to  their  heels,  and  fled  universally;  except 
Tissapherne*,  who  stood  his  ground  with  a  small  part 
>f  his  troops. 

Cyrus  saw  with  pleasure  the  enemy  routed  by  the 
Greeks,  and  was  proclaimed  king  by  those  around 
him.  But  he  did  not  give  himself  up  to  a  vain  joy, 
nor  as  yet  reckon  himself  victor.  He  perceived  that 
Artaxerxes  was  wheeling  his  right  to  attack  him  in 
flank,  and  marched  directly  against  him  with  his  600 
horse.  He  killed  Artagerses,  who  commanded  the 
king's  guard  of  GOOO  horse,  with  his  own  hand,  and 
put  the  whole  bodv  to  flight.  Discovering  his  bro- 
ther, he  cried  out,  his  eves  sparkling  with  rage,  I  tee 
him,  and  spurred  against  him,  followed  only  by  his 
principal  officers;  for  his  troops  had  quitted  their 
ranks  to  follow  the  runaways,  which  was  an  essential 
fault. 

The  battle  then  became  a  single  combat,'  in  some 
measure,  between  Arlaxerxes  and  Cyrus,  and  the 
two  brothers  were  seen  transported  with  rage  and 
fury,  endeavouring,  like  Eteocles  and  Polynices,  to 
plunge  their  swords  into  each  other'*  hearts,  and  to 
assure  themselves  of  the  throne  by  the  death  of  their 
rival. 

Cyrus  having  opened  hi«  way  through  those  who 
were  drawn  up  in  battle  before  Artaxerxes,  joined 
him,  and  killed  his  horse  that  fell  with  him  to  the 
ground.  He  rose,  and  was  remounted  upon  another, 
when  Cyrus  attacked  him  again,  gave  him  a  second 
wound,  and  was  preparing  to  give  him  a  third,  in 
hopes  that  it  would  prove  hi*  last.  The  king,  like  a 
lion  wounded  by  the  hunters,  only  the  more  furious 
from  the  smart,  sprung  forwards,  impetuously  pushing 
his  tiorse  against  Cyrus,  who  running  headlong,  and 
without  regard  to  his  person,  threw  himself  into  the 
midst  of  a  flight  of  darts,  aimed  at  him  from  all  sides, 
and  received  a  wound  from  the  king's  javelin,  at  the 
instant  all  the  rest  discharged  their  weapons  against 
him.  Cvrus  fell  dead:  some  say  that  it  was  from  the 
wound  given  him  by  the  king;  others  affirm  that  he 
was  killed  by  a  Carian  soldier.  Mithridates,  a  young 
Persian  nobleman,  asserted,  that  he  had  given  him  the 
mortal  stroke  with  a  javelin,  which  entered  his  temple, 
and  pierced  his  head  quite  through.  The  greatest 
persons  of  the  court,  resolving  not  to  survive  so  good 
•  master,  were  all  killed  around  his  body; — •  certain 
proof,  says  Xenophon,  that  he  well  knew  how  to 
choose  hut  friends,  and  that  he  was  truly  beloved  by 
them.  Ariieus,  who  ought  to  have  been  the  firmest 
of  all  his  adherents,  fled  with  the  left  wing,  as  toon  as 
he  heard  of  his  death. 

Arlaxerxe«,  after  having  caused  the  head  and  right 


i  Diod.  I.  xiv.  p.  354. 


land  of  his  brother  to  be  cut  off  by  the  eunuch  Mew. 

es,  pursued  the  enemy  into  their  camp.  AIIUMIS 
lad  not  stopped  there,  but  having  passed  through  it, 
continued  his  retreat  to  the  place  where  the  army  had 
encamped  t  he  day  before,  which  was  about  four  leagues 
distant. 

Tissaphemes,  after  the  defeat  of  the  greatest  part 
of  his  left  wing  by  the  Greeks,  led  on  the  rest  against 
[hem,  and  by  the  side  of  the  river  passed  through  the 
light-armed  inlantry  of  the  Greeks,  who  opened  to 
give  him  passage,  and  made  their  discharge  upon  him 
as  he  passed  without  losing  a  man.  They  were  com- 
manded by  Episthenes  of  Amphipolis,  who  was 
esteemed  an  able  captain.  Ti^-saphernes  kept  on 
without  returning  to  the  charge,  because  he  perceive  d 
he  was  too  weak,  and  went  forward  to  C\  rus's  camp, 
where  he  found  the  king,  who  was  plundering  it; 
but  had  not  been  able  to  force  the  quarter  defend- 
ed by  the  Greeks  left  to  guard  it,  who  saved  their 
baggage. 

The  Greeks  on  their  side,  and  Artaxerxes  on  hi*/ 
who  did  not  know  what  was  going  on  elsewhere,  be- 
lieved each  of  them  that  they  had  gained  the  victor}-; 
the  first,  because  they  had  put  the  enemy  to  flight,  and 
pursued  them;  and  the  king,  because  he  had  killed 
his  brother,  beaten  the  troops  who  had  opposed  him, 
and  plundered  their  camp.  The  event  was  soon 
cleared  up  on  both  sides.  Tissaphemes,  upon  his  ar- 
rival at  the  camp,  informed  the  king,  that  the  Greeks 
had  defeated  his  left  wing,  and  pursued  it  with  great 
vigour;  and  the  Greeks  on  their  side  learned,  that 
the  king,  in  pursuing  Cyrus's  left,  had  penetrated  into 
the  camp.  Upon  this  advice,  the  king  rallied  his 
troop?,  and  marched  in  quest  of  the  ennny;  and 
Clearchus,  being  returned  from  pursuing  the  Persian*, 
advanced  to  support  the  camp. 

The  two  armies  were  soon  very  near  each  other, 
when,  bv  a  movement  made  by  the  king,  he  seemed 
to  intend  to  charge  the  Greeks  by  their  left,  who,  fear- 
ing to  be  surrounded  on  all  sides,  wheeled  about,  and 
hailed  with  the  river  on  their  backs,  to  prevent  their 
being  taken  in  the  rear.  Upon  teeing  that,  the  king 
changed  his  form  of  battle  also,  drew  up  his  army  in 
front  of  them,  and  marched  on  to  the  attack.  As 
goon  as  the  Greeks  saw  him  approach,  they  began 
to  sing  the  hymn  of  battle,  and  advanced  against 
the  enemy  even  with  more  ardour  than  in  the  first 
action. 

The  Barbarians  again  took  to  their  heels,  as  at  first, 
ran  farther  than  before,  and  were  pursued  to  a  village 
at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  upon  which  their  horse  halted. 
The  king's  standard  was  observed  to  be  there,  which 
was  a  golden  eagle  upon  the  top  of  a  pike,  having  its 
wings  displayed.  The  Greeks  preparing  to  pursue 
them,  thev  abandoned  also  the  hill,  fled  precipitately, 
and  alt  their  troops  broke,  and  were  in  the  utmost  dis- 
order and  confusion.  Clearclius  having  drawn  up  the 
Greeks  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  ordered  L\cia«  the 
Syracusan.  and  another  to  go  up  it,  and  observe-  what 
passed  in  the  plain.  They  returned  with  an  account 
that  the  enemy  fled  on  all  sides,  and  that  their  whole 
army  was  routed. 

As  it  was  almost  night,  the  Greeks  laid  down  their 
arm*  to  rest  themselves,  much  surprised,  that  neither 
Cyru»,  nor  anyone  from  him,  appeared;  and  ima- 
srining  that  he  was  either  tngaged  in-  the  pursuit  of 
the  enemy,  or  was  making  haste  to  posses*  himself 
of  some  important  place;  for  they  were  still  i^rorant 
of  his  death,  and  the  defeat  of  the  rest  of  his  nriny. 
They  determined  therefore  to  return  to  their  cnnip, 
where  they  arrived  about  night-fall,  and  found  the 
greatest  part  of  the  baggage  taken,  with  all  the  pro- 
visions and  400  waggons,  laden  with  corn  and  w int. 
which  Cyrus  had  expressly  caused  to  be  carried  along 
with  the  army  for  the  Greeks,  in  case  of  any  pressing 
necessity.  They  passed  the  night  in  the  c-iinp,  the 
greatest"  part  of 'them  without  any  refreshment,  con- 
cluding that  Cyrus  was  alive  and  victorious. 

The  success  "of  this  battle  shows  the  superiority  of 
valour  and  military  knowledge  over  the  grentew 
numbers  without  them.  The  small  army  of  th« 
Greeks  did  not  amount  to  more  than  twelve  or  13,000 
men;  but  they  were  seasoned  and  disciplined  troop*. 


350 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


iuiired  to  fatt»up*,  accustomed  to  confront  dangers, 
seni-ible  to  glorv.  a  id  who,  during  the  long  Pelopon- 
nesan  war,  had"  not  w*nU -  either  time  or  means  to 
acquire,  and  perfect  themselv  -s  in  the  art  of  war 
On  Artaxerxes's  side  were  reckoned  nearly  1,000,000 
of  men:  but  they  were  soldiers  only  in  nui.ir,  without 
force,  courage,  discipline,  experience,  or  any  senti- 
ment of  honour.  Hence  it  wag,  that  as  soon  as  the 
Greeks  appeared,  terror  and  disorder  ensued  amongst 
the  enmiv;  and  in  the  second  action,  A.-u-jerxes 
himself  did  nut  dare  to  wait  their  attack,  but  shame- 
fully betook  himself  to  (light. 

Plutarch  here  blames  Clearchus  the  general  of  the 
Greek*  very  much,  and  imputes  to  him  as  an  unpar- 
donable leg-feet,  his  not  having  followed  Cyrus's 
order,  who  recommended  to  him  above  all  things  to 
fall  upon  that  body  where  Artaxerxes  commanded  in 
person.  This  reproach  seems  groundless.  It  is  not 
easy  to  conceive,  how  it  was  possible  for  that  captain, 
who  was  posted  on  the  right  wing,  to  attack  Arta- 
xerxes  immediately,  who,  in  the  centre  of  his  own  ar- 
my, lay  beyond  the  utmost  extent  of  the  enemy's 
left,  as  has  bet-n  said  before.  It  seems  that  Cyrus, 
depending  as  he  did  with  great  reason  upon  the 
valour  ot  the  Greeks,  and  desiring  they  should 
charge  Artaxerxes  in  his  post,  ought  to  have  placed 
them  in  the  left  wing  which  answered  directly  to 
the  psrt  where  the  king  was;  that  is,  to  the  main 
body,  and  not  in  the  right,  which  was  very  remote 
from  it. 

Clearchus  may  indeed  be  reproached  with  having 
followed  the  pursuit  too  warmly  and  too  long.  If, 
•fter  having  put  the  left  wing  which  opposed  him  into 
disorder,  he  had  charged  the  rest  of  the  enemy  in 
flank,  and  had  opened  Ins  way  to  the  centre,  where 
Artaxerxes  was,  it  is  highly  probable,  tlial  he  would 
have  gained  a  complete  victory, and  placed  Cyrus  up- 
on the  throne.  The  600  horse  of  that  prince's  guard 
committed  the  saint-  fault,  and  by  pursuing  the  body  of 
troops  they  had  put  to  Might  too  eageii),  left  their 
master  almost  alone,  and  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of 
the  enemy:  without  considering  that  they  were  cho- 
sen from  the  whole  army  for  the  immediate  guard  of 
his  person,  ami  for  no  other  purpose  whatsoever.  Too 
much  ardour  is  often  prejudicial  in  a  battle,  and  it  is 
the  duty  of  an  able  general  to  know  how  to  restrain 
and  direct  it. 

Cyrus  himself  erred  highly  in  this  respect,  and 
abandoned  himself  too  much  to  his  blind  passion  for 
clary  and  revenge.  In  running  headlong  to  attack 
his  brother,  he  forgot  that  there  is  a  wide  difference 
between  a  general  and  a  private  soldier.  He  ought 
oot  to  have  exposed  himself,  but  as  became  a  prince: 
as  the  head,  not  as  the  hand — as  the  person  who  was 
to  give  orders,  and  not  as  those  who  were  to  execute 
them. 

In  these  remarks  I  only  adopt  those  which  have 
Oeen  made  by  able  judges  in  the  art  of  war,  and 
Wnuld  not  choose  to  advance  my  own  opinion  upon 
points  which  I  am  not  competent  to  decide. 

SECTION  III.— Eur.ocr  OF  CYRUS. 

XENOPHON  gives  us  a  magnificent  character  of 
Cyni*,1  and  that  not  merely  from  the  report  of  others, 
but  from  what  he  saw  and  knew  of  him  in  hit  own 
person.  He  was,  say*  he,  in  the  opinion  of  all  that 
was  acquainted  with  him,  next  to  Cyrus  the  Great,  a 
prince  the  most  worthy  of  the  supreme  authority,  and 
one  who  had  the  most  noble,  and  most  truly  royal  soul. 
From  his  infancy  he  surpassed  all  of  hi*  own  age  in 
every  exercise,  whether  it  were  in  managing  the 
horse,  drawing  the  bow,  throwing  the  dart,  or  in 
the  chase,  in  which  he  distinguished  himself  once 
bv  fighting  and  killing  a  bear  that  attacked  him. 
Those  advantages  were  enhanced,  in  him  bv  the 
nobleness  of  his  air,  an  engaging  aspect,  and  by  all 
the  graces  of  nature,  that  conduce  to  recommend 
merit. 

When  his  father  had  made  him  satrap  of  Lydia, 
and  the  neighbouring  provinces,*  his  chief  care  was 
to  make  the  people  sensible  that  he  had  nothing  so 

i  De  Exp*d.  C>r.  I.  i.  p.  866.  967. 
•  Gnat  J  hryjia  and  Caipadocia. 


much  at  heart  as  to  keep  Va  word  inviolably,  no 
only  with  regard  to  public  treaties,  but  the  most  mi- 
nute of  his  promises; — a  quality  very  rare  amongst 
princes,  which  however  is  the  basis  of  all  good  gor 
eminent,  and  the  source  of  their  own,  as  wi  II  as  llitir 
people's  happiness.  Not  only  the  places  miner  hi] 
authority,  but  the  enemy  llum-t  U  i «,  reposed  an  en- 
tire confidence  in  him. 

Whether  good  or  ill  were  done  him,  he  always  de- 
sired to  return  it  two-fold,  and  wished  that  hi  imijlit 
live  no  longer  (as  he  said  bimstll,)  than  vthil-t  he 
surpassed  his  friends  in  benefits,  anil  his  enemies  in 
vengeance.  (It  Would  have  bet  n  more  ^lorioiis  for 
him  to  have  overcome  the  lattrr  by  the  lorce  of  fa- 
vour and  benevolence.)  Nor  was  there  ever  a  prince 
whom  people  were  more  afraid  to  offend,  nor  lor 
whose  sake  they  were  more  ready  to  hazard  then 
possessions,  lives,  and  fortune*. 

Less  intent  upon  being  (tared  than  beloved,  hfi 
study  was  to  make  his  greatness  appear  only  vtherf 
it  was  useful  and  beneficial,  and  to  extinguish  all 
other  sentiments,  but  those  which  (low  from  grati- 
tude and  affection.  He  was  careful  to  seize  every 
occasion  of  do'ng  good,  to  confer  his  favours  with 
judgment  and  in  season,  and  to  show,  that  he  thought 
himself  rich,  powerful,  and  happy,  only  as  he  made 
others  sensible  of  his  being  so  by  his  bent-volt  nee 
and  liberality.  But  he  took  care  not  to  exhaust  the 
means  by  an  imprudent  profusion.  He  did  not  lavish' 
but  distribute  his  favours.  He  chose  rather  to  make 
his  liberalities  the  rewards  of  merit,  than  mere  dona- 
tions, and  that  they  should  be  Mlbservieat  in  promo- 
ting virtue,  and  not  in  supporting  the  soft  and  abject 
sloth  of  vice. 

He  was  particularly  pleased  with  conferring  his 
favours  upon  valiant  men,  and  governments  and  re- 
wards were  bestowed  only  on  those  who  had  distin- 
guished themselves  by  their  actions.  He  never  gran- 
ted any  honour  or  dignity  to  favour,  intrigue,  or 
faction,  but  to  merit  alone;  upon  which  depends  n'.t 
only  the  glory  but  the  prosperity  of  governments. 
By  that  means  he  soon  made  virtue  estimable,  and 
rendered  vice  contemptible.  The  provinces,  anima- 
ted with  a  noble  emulation,  furnished  him  in  a  very 
short  time  with  a  considerable  number  of  excellent 
subjects  of  every  kind;  who  under  a  different  gov- 
ernment would  have  remained  unknown,  obscure,  and 
useless. 

Never  did  any  one  know  how  to  confer  an  obliga- 
tion with  a  better  grace,  or  to  win  the  hearts  of 'hose 
who  could  serve  him  with  a  more,  engaging  beha- 
viour. As  he  was  fully  sensible  that  he  stood  in  need 
of  the  assistance  of  others  for  the  execution  of  his 
design?,  he  thought  justice  and  gratitu.it-  required 
that  he  should  render  his  adherents  all  the  services 
in  his  power.  All  the  presents  made  him,  whither 
of  splendid  arms,  or  rich  apparel,  he  distribute* 
among  his  friends,  according  to  their  several  tr.ste* 
or  occasions,  and  used  to  say,  that  the  brightest  o.-- 
nament,  and  most  exalted  riches  of  a  prince,  consis 
ted  in  adorning  and  enriching  those  who  served  hill 
well.  In  tact,  says  Xenophon,  to  do  good  to  one's 
friends,  and  to  excel  them  in  liberality,  does  not 
seem  so  worthy  of  admiration  in  so  high  a  fortune; 
but  to  transcend  them  in  goodi».«s  of  heart  and  serti- 
ments  of  friendship  and  affection,  and  to  take  more 
pleasure  in  conferring,  than  receiving  obligations; 
this  is  what  I  find  in  Cyrus  truly  worthy  of  esteem 
and  admiration.  The  brat  of  these  advantages  he 
derives  from  his  rank;  the  other  from  himself  and  his 
intrinsic  merit. 

By  these  extraordinary  qualities,  he  acquired  the 
universal  esteem  and  affection  as  well  of  the  Greek* 
as  barbarians.  A  great  proof  of  what  Xenophon 
here  »avs,  if,  that  none  ever  quitted  the  service  of 
Cyrus,  for  the  king's;  whereas  great  numbers  went 
over  every  day  to  him  from  the  king's  party  after  the 
war  was  declared,  and  even  of  such  as  had  most  cre- 
dit at  the  court;  because  they  were  all  convinced, 
that  Cyrus  knew  best  how  to  distinguish  and  reward 
their  services. 


•  Hnbcbat  xinum  facilem.  nnn  perforatum :  ex  -\\\o   mulia 
•xeaut,  mini  excidau    Sencc.  it  vit.  btat.  cxi::i. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


357 


It  H  most  certain  that  youn £  Cyrus  was  endowed 
itli  ^reat  virtues,  and  a  superior  merit;  but  1  am 
lurpnsei1.  that  Xenophon,  in  drawing  his  character, 
hM  described  only  the  most  beautiful  features,  and 
such  a-  are  calculated  tn  excite  our  admiration  of  him, 
without  rn\  ing  the  least  word  of  his  defects,  and 
especially  ol"  that  immoderate  atnb'tion,  which  was 
Hit  soul  of  nil  his  actions,  and  which  at  length  put 
arms  into  his  hands,  against  his  elder  brother  and 
king.  Is  it  allowable  in  an  historian,  whose  chief 
duty  is  to  paint  virtu*-  and  vice  in  their  proper  col- 
ours, to  relate  at  large  an  enterprise  of  such  a  nature, 
without  intimating  the  least  dislike  or  reprobation  ol 
i'?  Liu  with  the  pagans,  ambition  wu  to  far  from 
being  ccnsidered  as  a  vice,  that  it  often  pasted  for  a 
virtue. 

SECTION  IV. — THE  KING  WISHES  TO  COMPEL 
TIIK  GREEKS  TO  DELIVER  UP  THEIR  ARMS. 
THEV  RESOLVE  TO  DIE  RATHER  THAN  SURREN- 
DER THEMSELVES.  A  TREAT*  IS  MADE  WITH 
THEM.  TISSAPHERNES  TAKES  UPON  HIM  TO 
CONDUCT  THEM  BACK  TO  THEIR  OWN  COUNTRY. 
HE  TREACHEROUSLY  SEIZES  CLEARCHUS  AND 
F(  UK  OTHER  GENERALS,  WHO  ARE  ALL  PUT  TO 
DEATH. 

THE  Greeks,'  having  learned,  the  day  after  'he 
battle,  that  Cyrus  was  dead,  sent  deputies  to  Aria?us, 
the  general  of  the  barbarian*,  who  had  retired  with 
his  troops  to  the  place  from  whence  they  had  marched 
the  day  before  the  action,  to  offer  him,  as  victors,  the 
crown  of  Persia  in  the  room  of  Cvrns.  At  the  same 
lime  arrived  Persian  heralds  at  arms  from  the  king, 
to  summon  them  to  deliver  up  their  anus;  to  whom 
they  answered  with  a  haughty  air  that  such  mes- 
sages were  not  to  be  sent  to  conquerors;  that  if  the 
king  would  have  their  arms,  he  might  come  and  take 
them  ;  but  that  they  would  die  before  they  would  part 
with  them;  that  il  he  would  receive  them  into  the 
number  ol  his  allies,  they  would  serve  him  with  fide- 
lity and  valour;*  but  if  he  imagined  to  reduce  them 
to  slavery  as  conquered,  he  might  know,  they  had 
wherewithal  to  defend  themselves,  and  were  deter- 
mined to  lose  their  lives  and  liberty  together.  The 
heralds  added,  that  they  had  orders  to  tell  them, 
that  if  they  continued  in  the  place  where  they  were, 
they  would  be  allowed  a  susjiension  of  arms,  but  if 
they  advanced  or  retired,  that  they  would  be  treated 
as  enemies.  The  Greeks  agreed,  but  were  asked  by 
the  heralds  what  answer  they  should  take  back. 
Peace  in  continuing  here,  or  war  m  marching,  re- 
plied Cli  archus,  without  explaining  himself  farther; 
in  order  to  keep  the  king  always  in  suspense  and 
uncertainty. 

Tlie  answer  of  Ariaeus  to  the  Grecian  deputies  was 
that  there  were  many  Persians  more  considerable 
than  himself,  who  would  not  suffer  him  upon  the 
ihrone.  and  that  he  sho'.ild  set  out  earlv  the  next  day 
to  return  into  Ionia;  that,  if  they  would  march  thither 
with  him,  they  might  join  him  in  the  night.  Clear- 
chus,  with  the  advice  of  the  officers,  prepared  to  de- 
part. He  commanded  from  thenceforth,  as  being  the 
soli  person  ol "sufficient  capacity;  for  he  had  not  been 
actually  elected  general -in-chief. 

When  then  If  hi  came,  Miltocythes  the  Thracian. 
who  commanded  forty  horse,  and  about  three  hun- 
dred foot  of  his  own  country,  went  and  surrendered 
hims<  It  to  the  king;  and  the  rest  of  the  Greeks  began 
tlieir  march  under  the  conduct  of  Clearchns,  and  ar- 
rivec.  about  midnight  at  the  camp  of  Aria?us.  After 
they  had  drawn  up  in  buttle,  the  principal  officert 
went  to  wait  on  him  in  his  tent,  where  they  swore 
alliance  with  him  ;  and  the  barbarian  engaged  to 
conduct  the  army  without  fraud.  In  confirmation  of 
the  treaty,  they  sacrificed  a  wi.lf,  a  ram,  a  boar,  and 
a  bull;  the  Greeks  dipped  iheir  swords,  and  the  bar- 
barians the  points  of  their  javelins,  in  the  blood  of 
the  victims. 

>  Xonnph.  in  Exped.  Cyr.  1.  ii.  p.  273—992.  Diod.  1.  xir. 
p.  855— -JoT. 

•  Sin  nt  viclis  wrvitum  indicereiur.  ewe  (ibl  ferrum  et 
juventniern,  ot  promptum  libertali  aut  ad  mor'fir.  auimum. 
Tacit.  Aunal.  1.  iv.c.  46. 


Ariaeus  did  not  think  proper  to  reti  rn  by  the  same 
route  they  had  come,  because,  as  they  had  found  no- 
thing for  their  subsistence  during  the  last  seventeen 
days  of  their  march,  they  must  have  suffered  much 
more,  had  they  taken  the  same  way  back  again.  H« 
therefore  took  another;  exhorting  them  only  to  make 
long  marches  at  first,  in  order  to  evade  the  king's  pur- 
suit; but  this,  however,  they  could  not  effect.  To- 
wards the  evening,  when  they  were  not  far  from  some 
villages  where  they  proposed  to  halt,  the  scouts  came 
in  with  advice,  that  they  had  seen  several  equipages 
and  convoys,  which  made  it  reasonable  to  judge,  that 
the  enemy  were  not  far  off.  Upon  which  they  stood 
their  ground,  and  waited  their  coming  up;  and  the 
next  c!a\ ,  before  sun-rising, drew  up  in  the  same  order 
as  in  the  preceding  battle.  So  bold  an  appearance 
terrified  tne  king,  who  sent  herald?,  not  to  demand,  at 
before,  the  surrender  of  their  arms,  but  to  propose 
peace  and  a  treaty.  Clt  archus,  who  was  informed  of 
their  arrival,  whilst  he  was  busy  in  drawing  up  hit 
troops,  gave  orders  to  bid  them  «  ait,  and  to  tell  them, 
that  he  was  not  yet  at  leisure  to  hear  them.  He  as- 
sumed purposely  an  air  of  haughtiness  and  grandeur, 
to  denote  his  intrepidity,  and  at  the  same  to*how  the 
fine  appearance  and  good  condition  of  his  phalanx. 
When  he  advanced  with  the  most  gallant  of  his  of- 
ficers, expressly  chosen  for  the  occasion,  and  had 
heard  what  the  heralds  had  to  propose;  he  made 
answer,  that  they  must  begin  with  giving  battle,  be- 
cause the  army,  being  in  want  of  provisions,  had  no 
time  to  lose.  The  herald  having  carried  back  this 
answer  to  their  master,  returned  shortly  after;  which 
showed,  that  the  king,  or  whoever  spoke  in  his  name, 
was  not  very  distant.  They  said,  they  had  orders  to 
conduct  them  to  villages,  where  they  would  find  pro- 
vision* in  abundance,  and  conducted  them  thither  ac- 
cordingly. 

The  army  stayed  there  three  days,  during  which, 
Tissaphernes*  arrived  from  the  king,  with  the  queen'i 
brother  and  three  other  Persian  grundees,  attended  by 
a  great  number  of  officers  and  domestics.  After  hav- 
ing saluted  the  generals,  who  advanced  to  receive 
him,  he  told  him  by  his  interpreter,  that  being  a 
neighbour  of  Greece,  and  seeing  them  engaged  in 
dangers,  out  of  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  extricate 
themselves,  he  had  used  his  good  offices  with  the 
king,  to  obtain  permission  to  reconduct  them  into 
their  own  country;  being  convinced,  that  neither 
themselves,  nor  their  cities,  would  ever  be  unmindful 
of  that  favour:  that  the  king,  without  having  declared 
himself  positively  upon  that  head,  had  commanded 
him  to  come  to  them,  to  know  for  what  cause  they 
had  taken  arms  against  him;  and  he  advised  them  to 
make  the  king  such  an  answer,  as  might  not  give  any 
offence,  and  might  enable  him  to  do  them  service. 
••  We  call  the  gods  to  witness,"  replied  Clearchus, 
"  that  we  do  not  enlist  ourselves  to  make  war  with 
the  king,  or  to  march  against  him.  Cyrus,  concealing 
his  true  motives  under  ilifli  rent  pretext-,  brought  ui 
almost  hither  without  explaining  nimself,  the  b«  Uer  to 
surprise  you.  And  when  we  saw  him  surrounded 
with  dangers,  we  thought  it  infamous  to  abandon 
him,  after  the  favours  we  had  received  from  him. 
But  as  he  is  dead,  we  are  released  from  our  engage- 
ment, and  neither  desire  to  contest  the  crown  with 
Artaxerxes,  nor  to  ravage  his  country,  nor  to  give 
him  the  least  disquiet;  provided  he  does  not  oppose 
our  return.  However,  if  we  are  attacked,  we  shall 
endeavour,  with  the  assistance  of  the  gods,  to  make  a 
good  defence;  and  shall  not  be  ungrateful  towardi 
those  who  render  us  any  service."  Ti.«saphernes  re- 
plied, that  he  would  let  the  king  know  what  they 
said,  and  return  with  his  answer.  But  his  not  coming 
the  next  day  gave  the  Greeks  some  anxiety:  he  how- 
ever arrived  on  the  third,  and  told  them  that  after 
much  controversy,  he  had  at  length  obtained  the 
king's  pardon  for  them:  for,  that  it  had  been  repre- 
f-nted  to  the  king,  that  he  ought  not  to  suffer  people 
to  return  with  impunity  into  their  country,  who  had 
been  to  insolent  as  to  come  thither  to  make  war  upon 
him.  "In  fine,"  said  he,  "  you  may  now  a--ure 
yourselves  of  not  finding  any  obstacle  to  your  return, 
and  of  being  supplied  with  provisions,  or  suffered  U 


358 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


buy  them;  and  j-ou  shall  swear  on  your  part,  that 
you  will  pass  without  committing  any  disorders  in 
your  march,  and  that  you  will  take  only  what  is 
necessary;  provided  you  are  not  furnished  with  it." 
These  conditions  were  sworn  to  on  both  sides.  Tis- 
saphernes and  the  queen's  brother  gave  their  hands 
to  the  colonels  and  captains  in  token  of  amity.  After 
which  Tissaphernes  withdrew  to  arrange  his  affairs, 
promising  to  return  shortly  in  order  to  go  back  with 
them  into  his  government. 

The  Greeks  waited  for  him  above  twenty  days, 
continuing  encamped  near  Ariaeus.who  received  fre- 

auent  visits  from  his  brothers,  and  other  relations,  as 
id  the  officers  of  his  army  from  the  Persians  of  the 
different  party ;  who  assured  then)  from  the  king  of 
an  entire  oblivion  of  the  past:  so  that  the  friendship 
of  Arheus  for  the  Greeks  appeared  to  cool  every  day 
more  and  more.  This  change  gave  them  some  unea- 
siness. Several  of  the  officers  went  to  Clearchus  and 
the  other  generals,  and  said  to  them,  "  What  do  we 
here  any  longer?  Are  we  not  sensible,  that  the  king 
desires  to  see  us  all  perish,  that  others  may  be  terri- 
fied by  our  example?  Perhaps  he  keeps  us  waiting 
here,  till  he  re-assembles  his  dispersed  troops,  or  sends 
to  seize  the  passes  in  our  way;  for  he  will  never  suffer 
u*  to  return  into  Greece  to  divulge  our  own  glory  and 
his  shame."  Clearchus  made  answer  to  this  discourse, 
that  to  depart  without  consulting  the  king,  WHS  to 
break  with  him,  and  to  declare  war  by  violating  the 
treaty;  that  they  should  remain  without  a  conduc- 
tor in  a  strange  country,  where  nobody  would  sup- 
ply them  with  provisions;  that  Arireus  would  aban- 
don them;  and  that  even  their  friends  would  be- 
come their  enemies;  that  he  did  not  know,  but  there 
might  be  other  rivers  to  pass,  but  that,  were  the  F.u- 
phrates  the  only  one,  they  could  not  get  over  it,  were 
the  passage  ever  so  little  disputed.  That  if  it  were 
necessary  to  come  to  a  battle,  they  should  find  them- 
selves without  cavalry  against  an  enemy  that  had  a 
very  numerous  and  excellent  body  of  horse;  so  that 
if  they  gained  the  victory,  they  could  make  no  great 
advantage  of  it,  and  if  they  were  overcome,  they  were 
utterly  and  irretrievably  lost.  "  Besides,  why  should 
the  king,  who  has  so  many  other  means  to  destroy 
us,  engage  his  word  only  to  violate  it,  and  thereby 
render  himself  execrable  in  the  sight  of  gods  and 
men?" 

Tissaphernes,  however,  arrived  with  his  troops,  in 
Order  to  return  into  his  government,  and  they  set  for- 
ward all  together  under  the  conduct  of  that  satrnp, 
who  supplied  them  with  provisions.  Arineus  with  his 
troops  encamped  with  the  Barbarians, and  the  Greeks 
separately  at  some  distance,  which  kept  up  a  con- 
tinual distrust  amongst  them.  Besides  which,  there 
happened  frequent  quarrels  for  wood  or  forage,  that 
augmented  their  aversion  for  each  other.  After  three 
days' march,  they  arrived  at  the  wall  of  Media,  which 
is  a  hundred  feet  high,  twenty  broad,  and  twenty 
leagues' '  in  extent,  all  built  with  bricks,  cemented 
with  bitumen,  like  the  walls  of  Bab)  Ion,  from  which 
it  was  not  verv  distant  at  one  of  its  extremities, 
When  they  haJ  passed  it,  they  marched  eight  leagues 
in  two  days,  and  came  to  the  river  Tigris,  after  hav- 
ing crossed  two  of  its  canal-sent  expressly  for  water- 
ing the  country.  They  then  passed  the  Tigris2 upon 
a  bridge  of  twenty -seven  boats  near  Sitace,  a  very 
great  and  populous  city.  After  four  days'  march, 
they  arrived  at  another  city,  very  opulent  also,  called 
Opis.  They  found  there  a  bastard  brother  of  Arta- 
lerxeg  with  a  very  considerable  body  of  troops,  which 
he  was  bringing  from  Su»a  and  Ecbatana  to  his  aid. 
He  admirer!  the  fine  order  of  the  Greek*.  From 
thence,  having  passed  the  deserts  of  Media,  they 
came  after  a  march  of  six  days  to  a  rlnce.  called  the 
lands  of  Pary satis;  the  revenues  of  which  appertained 


t  Twenty  parasanja*. 

*  Tin;  march  of  itie  Greeks  ond  the  rest  of  the  nrmy, 
frnni  i lie  day  ufirr  tho  Imlile  till  the  panning  of  the  Tijrri«, 
ttxiurxln  in  the  text  ol  Xenoplion  with  »ery  great  obscuri- 
ties, to  «x  pin  in  which  fully,  woulil  require  a  \at\«  Hiv^cna- 
tion.  My  plan  docs  not  admit  m<>  to  enter  into  surd  disruii- 
ikini.  which  I  must  therefore  refer  to  those  who  are  more 
tbfe  thm,  nivM/lf. 


to  that  princess.  Tissaphernes,  to  insult  the  memory 
of  her  son  Cyrus,  so  dearly  beloved  by  her,  gave  up 
the  village*  to  be  plundered  by  the  Greeks.  Contin- 
uing their  march  through  the  desert  on  the  one  side 
of  the  Tigris,  which  they  had  on  their  lelt.they  arri- 
ved at  Cwnae  a  very  great  and  rich  city,  and  from 
thence  at  the  river  Zabates. 

The  occasions  of  distrust  increased  every  day  be- 
tween the  Greeks  and  Barbarians.  Clearchus  thought 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  come  to  an  explanation  once 
for  all  with  Tissaphernes.  He  began  with  observing 
upon  the  sacred  and  inviolable  nature  of  the  treaties 
subsisting  between  them.  "  Can  a  man,"  said  he, 
"conscious  of  the  guilt  of  perjury,  be  capable  of  liv- 
ing at  ease.  How  would  he  shun  the  wrath  of  the 
gods,  who  are  the  witnesses  of  treaties,  and  escape 
their  vengeance,  whose  power  is  universal?'1  He 
added  afterwards  many  things  to  prove,  that  the 
Greeks  were  obliged  by  their  own  intt  rest  to  continue 
faithful  to  him,  and  that,  by  renouncing  his  alliance, 
they  must  first  inevitably  renounce  not  only  all  re- 
ligion, but  reason  and  common  sense.  Tissaphernes 
seemed  to  relish  this  discourse, and  spoke  to  liim  with 
all  the  appearance  of  the  most  perfect  sincerity;  in- 
sinuating at  the  same  time,  that  some  persons  had 
done  him  bad  offices  with  him.  "If  you  will  bring 
your  officers  hither,"  said  he,  "  I  will  show  you  those 
who  have  wronged  you  by  their  representations."  He 
kept  him  to  supper,  and  professed  more  friendship  for 
him  than  ever. 

The  next  day  Clearchus  proposed  in  the  assembly, 
to  go  with  the  several  commanders  of  the  troops  to 
Tissaphernes.  He  suspected  Menon  in  particular, 
whom  he  knew  to  have  had  a  secret  conference  with 
the  satrap  in  the  presence  of  Ariaeus;  besides  which, 
they  had  already  differed  several  times  with  each 
other.  Some  objected,  that  it  was  not  proper  that  all 
the  generals  should  go  to  Tissaphernes,  and  that  it 
was  not  consistent  with  prudence  to  rely  implicitly 
upon  the  professions  of  a  Barbarian.  But  Clearchus 
continued  to  insist  upon  his  proposal,  till  it  was  agreed 
that  the  four  other  commanders,  with  twenty  captains 
and  about  200  soldiers,  under  pretext  of  buying  pro- 
visions in  the  Persian  camp,  where  there  was  a  market, 
should  be  sent  along  with  him.  When  they  came  to 
the  tent  of  Tissaphernes,  the  five  commanders,  Clear- 
chus, Menon,  Proxenus,  Agias,  and  Socrates,  were 
suffered  to  enter,  but  the  captains  remained  without 
at  the  door.  Immediately,  on  a  certain  signal  before 
agreed  on,  those  within  were  seized,  and  the  others 
put  to  the  sword.  Some  Persian  horse  afterwards 
scoured  the  country,  and  killed  all  the  Greeks  they 
met,  whether  freemen  or  slaves.  Clearchus,  with  the 
other  generals,  was  sent  to  the  king,  who  ordered 
their  heads  to  be  struck  off.  Xenoplion  describes 
with  sufficient  extent  the  characters  of  those  officers. 

Clearchus  was  valiant,  bold,  intrepid,  and  of  a  ca- 
pacity for  forming  great  enterprises.  His  courage 
was  not  rash,  but  directed  bv  prudence;  and  he  re- 
tained all  the  coolness  of  his  temper  and  presence  of 
mind  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  dangers.  He  loved 
the  troops,  and  let  them  want  for  nothing.  He  knew 
how  to  make  them  obey  him;  but  out  of  fear.  HU 
mien  was  awful  and  severe;  his  language  rough;  his 
punishments  instant  and  rigorous:  he  gave  way  some- 
times to  passion,  but  presently  came  to  himself,  and 
always  chastised  with  justice.  His  great  maxim  was, 
that  nothing  could  be  done  in  an  army  without  sever* 
discipline;  and  from  him  came  the  saying,  that »  soldier 
ought  to  fear  his  general  more  than  the  enemy.  The 
troops  esteemed  his  valour,3  and  did  justice  to  his 
merit;  but  they  were  afraid  of  his  temper,  and  did 
not  love  to  serve  under  him.  In  a  word,  says  Xeno- 
phon,  the  soldiers  feared  him  as  scholars  do  a  sever* 
pedagogue.  We  may  say  of  him  with  Tacitus,  that 
bv  an  excess  of  severity  he  made,  what  had  other- 
wise been  well  done  by  him,  unamiable;  Citpidint 
severitatis  in  his  tlinm,  qua:  ritefaccret,  acerbvs.* 

Proxenus  was  of  Bueotia.     From   his  infancy  he  as- 


*  Manrhat  admiratio  viri  et  farna  ;  «ed  odoiant.     Tacit 
Histor.\.  i'l.  .-.  08. 
«  Tacit.  AnntL.  c.lxxv. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


359 


pired  at  great  things,  and  was  industrious  to  make 
himself  capal  le  of  them.  He  spared  no  means  for 
the  attainment  of  instruction,  and  was  the  disciple  of 
Gorgias  the  Leontine,  a  celebrated  rhetorician,  who 
•old  his  lecturts  at  a  very  high  price.  When  he 
found  himself  capable  of  commanding,  and  of  doing 
good  to  his  frit nds,  as  well  as  of  being  served  by 
them,  he  entered  into  Cyrus's  service  with*  the  view 
of  advancing  himself.  He  did  nut  want  ambition, 
but  would  take  no  other  path  to  glory  than  that  of 
virtue.  He  would  have  been  a  perfect  captain,  had 
he  had  to  do  with  none  but  brave  and  disciplined  men, 
and  had  it  been  only  necessary  to  make  himself  be- 
loved. He  was  more  apprehensive  of  being  upon  bad 
term?  with  hi.*  soldiers,  than  his  soldiers  with  him. 
He  thought  it  sufficient  for  a  commander  to  praise 
good  actions,  without  punishing  bad  ones;  for  which 
reason  he  was  beloved  by  the  worthy,  but  those  of 
•  different  character  abused  his  easiness.  He  died  at 
thirty  years  of  age. 

Could  the  two  great  person?,1  whose  portraits  we 
have  here  drawn  alter  Xenophon,  have  moulded  into 
one,  something  perfect  might  have  been  made  of  them, 
bv  retrenching  their  several  defects,  and  retaining  only 
their  virtues;  but  it  rarely  happens,  that  the  same 
man,  as  Tacitus*  says  of  Agricola,  behaves,  accord- 
ing to  the  exigency  of  times  and  circumstances,  some- 
times with  gentleness  and  sometimes  with  severity, 
without  lessening  his  authority  by  the  former,  or  the 
people's  affection  by  the  latter. 

RIenon  was  a  Thessalian,  avaricious  and  ambitious, 
but  ambitious  only  to  sitiate  his  avarice,  pursuing 
honour  and  estimation  for  the  mere  lucre  of  money. 
He  courted  the  friendship  of  the  great,  and  of  persons 
in  authority,  that  he  might  have  it  in  his  power  to 
commit  injustice  and  oppression  with  impunity.  To 
obtain  his  ends,  falsehood,  fraud,  perjury  cost  him 
nothing;  whilst  sincerity,  and  integrity  ol 'heart,  were 
in  his  opinion  merely  weakness  ami  stupidity.  He 
loved  nobody;  and  it  he  professed  friendship,  it  WHS 
>idv  t-i  deceive.  As  others  make  their  glory  consist 
in  religion,  probity,  and  honour,  he  valued  himseli  up- 
on injustice,  deceit,  and  treachery.  He  gained  the  fa- 
vour of  the  great  bv  false  reports,  whispering,  and  cal- 
umnv:  and  that  of  the  soldiery  by  license  and  impu- 
nity. In  fine,  he  endeavoured  to  render  himself  terri- 
ble bv  the  mischief  it  was  in  his  power  to  do,  and  im- 
agined he  favoured  those  to  whom  he  did  none. 

I  had  thoughts  of  retrenching  these  characters, 
which  interrupt  the  thread  of  the  history.  But  as 
men,  in  all  times,  are  the  same,  I  thought  retaining 
them  would  neither  be  useless  nor  disagreeable  to  the 
reader. 

SECTION"  V.  — RETREAT  OF  THE  10,000  GREEKS 
FROM  THE  PROVINCE  OF  BABVLOK,  AS  FAR  AS 
TREUtSU.ND. 

The  generals  of  the  Greeks  having  been  seized,* 
•nd  the  officers  who  attended  them  massacred,  the 
troops  were  in  the  highest  consternation.  They  were 
five  or  600  leagues  from  Greece,  surrounded  with 
gieat  rivers  and  hostile  nations,  without  a  guide  or 
any  supplies  of  provisions. — In  this  state  of  general 
dejection,  they  could  not  think  of  taking  either  nour- 
ishment or  repose.  In  the  middle  of  the  ni^ht,  Xt  n- 
ophon,  a  vouns  Athenian,  but  of  prudence  and  capac- 
ity superior  to  his  years,  went  to  some  of  the  officers, 
on  1  represented  to  them,  that  they  had  no  time  to 
lose;  that  it  WHS  of  the  utmost  importance  to  prevent 
the  bad  designs  of  the  enemy;  that  however  small 
their  number,  they  would  render  themselves  formida- 
ble, if  they  behaved  with  boldness  and  resolution: 
that  valour  and  not  multitude  determines  the  success 
of  arms;  and  that  it  was  necessary  above  all  things  to 
n(  minate.  generals  immediately, — because  an  army 


>  E?re?ium  prinri|.aius  temfierameiituni  si.  dempli* 
•  ,riusi|u>'  vuiis  S«|IE  virtutei  mi.-ccruntur.  Tacit,  llislor. 
I.  ii.  r  5. 

»  Pro  variis  tPmporiliu*  ac  n»!.'iitii«  i-ovrrus  pt  comin — nee 
Dli.  i|ui»l  est  rarissiimim,  aui    farihtas  auciurhatein,  aut  se- 
•run-  nmorom.  dimiiiiiit.     Tacit,  in  rfgrie.  c.  ix. 
X^nopli.  in  n*i>td.  Cyr.  I.  iii.  &  iv. 


without  commanders  is  like  a  body  vtitnoi  t  a  soul.  A 
council  was  immediately  held,  at  which  100  officer* 
were  present;  and  Xenophon  being  desiret'- to  speak, 
enforced  the  reasons  at  large,  which  he  had  at  first 
but  lightly  touched  upon;  and  by  his  advice  comman- 
ders were  appointed.  These  were,  Timasion,  in  the 
room  of  Clearchus,  Xanthicles  for  Socrates,  Cleanor 
for  Agias.  Philesius  for  Menon,  and  Xenophon  for 
Proxenus. 

Before  the  break  of  day,  they  assembled  the  army. 
The  generals  made  speeches  to  animate  the  «roo|>s, 
and  Xenophon  amongst  the  rest. — "  Fellow  soldiers," 
said  he,  "the  loss  of  so  many  brave  men  by  vils 
treachery,  and  the  being  abandoned  by  our  friends, 
is  very  deplorable:  but  we  must  not  sink  under  our 
misfortunes;  and  if  we  cannot  conquer,  let  us  choose 
rather  to  perish  gloriously,  ihan  to  fall  into  the  ht^nds 
of  Barbarians,  who  would  inflict  upon  us  the  greatest 
miseries.  Let  us  call  to  mind  the  glorious  battles  of 
Plataese,  Thermopylae,  Salamis,  and  so  many  others, 
wherein  our  ancestors,  though  with  a  small  numbtr, 
have  fouyht  and  defeated  the  innumerable  armies  if 
the  Persians,  and  thereby  rendered  the  name  alone  of 
Greek  for  ever  formidable.  It  i*  to  their  invincible 
valour  we  owe  the  honour  we  possess  of  acknowledge 
ing  no  masters  upon  enrth  but  the  gods,  nor  any  hap 
piness  but  what  is  consistent  with  liberty.  Those 
gods,  the  avengers  of  perjury,  and  witnesses  of  the 
enemy's  perfidy,  will  be  favourable  to  us;  and  as  they 
are  attacked  in  the  violation  of  treaties,  and  take 
pleasure  in  humbling  the  proud  and  exalting  the  low, 
they  will  also  follow  us  to  battle  and  combat  for  us. 
For  the  rest,  fellow  soldiers,  as  we  have  no  refuge  bu 
in  victory,  which  must  be  our  sole  resource,  and  will 
make  us  ample  amends  for  whatever  it  costs  to  attain 
it;  I  should  believe,  if  it  were  your  opinion,  that  in 
order  to  make  a  more  expeditious  and  less  difficult 
retreat,  it  would  be  very  proper  to  rid  ourselves  of 
all  the  useless  baggage,  and  to  keep  only  what  is  ab- 
solutely necessary  in  our  march." — All  the  soldiers 
that  moment  lifted  up  their  hands  to  signify  their 
approbation  and  consent  to  all  that  had  been  said, 
and  without  loss  of  time  set  fire  to  their  tents  and 
carriages;  such  of  them  as  had  too  much  equipage 
giving  it  to  others  who  had  too  little,  and  destroying 
the  rent. 

It  was  resolved  to  march  the  army  without  tumult 
or  violence,  if  their  return  was  not  opposed;  but  oth- 
erwise to  open  themselves  a  passage  sword  in  haird 
through  the  enemy.  They  therefore  began  their  hiwrch 
in  the  form  of  a  great  hollow  square,  with  the  baggage 
in  the  centre.  Chirisophus,  the  Lacedemonian,  had 
the  vanguard:  two  of  the  oldest  captains  the  right 
and  left;  and  Timasion  with  Xenophon  were  posted 
in  the  rear  ns  the  youngest  officers. — The  fiist  day 
was  distressing;  because  having  neither  horse  nor 
•lingers,  they  were  extremely  harassed  hv  a  detach- 
ment sent  against  them:  but  they  provided  against 
that  inconvenience  by  following  Xenophon's  advice. 
They  chose  200  men  out  of  the  Rhodians  among  the 
troops,  whom  they  armed  with  slings,  and  augmented 
their  pny  for  their  encouragement.  They  could  throw 
as  far  nsrain  as  the  Persians,  because  (hey  discharged 
balls  of  lead,  and  the  others  made  use  only  of  large 
flints.  They  mounted  also  a  squadron  of  fifty  men 
upon  the  horses  intended  for  the  baggage,  and  sup- 
plied their  places  with  other  beas's  of  burden.  By 
the  means  of  this  supply,  a  second  detachment  jf  the 
enemy  were  very  severely  hundlej. 

After  some  dsys'  march  Tissaphernes  appeared 
with  all  his  forces.  He  contented  himself  at  first  with 
harassing  the  Greeks,  who  moved  on  continually. 
The  latter  observing  the  difficulty  of  retreating  in  a 
hollow  square,  in  the  fsce  of  the  enemy,  from  th« 
unevenness  of  ground,  hedges,  nnH  other  obstacles, 
which  might  oblige  them  to  break  it,  changed  their 
order  of  battle,  and  marched  in  two  columns,  with 
the  little  baggage  they  had  in  the  spare  between 
thi  m.  They  formed  a  body  of  reserve  of  600  chosen 
men,  whom  they  divided  into  six  companies,  and  «ub- 
divided  by  fifties  and  tens,  to  facilitate  their  motions 
according  as  occasion  n.ight  require.  Whtn  the 
columns  came  tlose  to  each  tther,  ther  either  t«- 


3:>0 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


mauvecl  in  the  rear,  or  filed  off  upon  the  flanks  on 
both  /ides,  to  avoid  disorder;  and  when  they  opened, 
they  fell  into  the  void  space  in  the  rear  between  the 
two  columns.  Upon  any  occasion  of  attack,  they 
immediately  ran  where  it  was  necessary.  The  Greeks 
5l.jod  several  charges,  but  they  were  neither  consider- 
able, n:jr  attended  with  much  loss. 

They  arrived  at  the  river  Tigris.  As  its  depth  would 
not  admit  them  to  repass  it  without  boats,  they  were 
obliged  to  cross  the  Carduchian  mountains,  because 
there  was  no  other  way;  and  the  prisoners  reported, 
that  fiMin  thence  they  would  enter  Armenia,  where 
they  might  pass  the  Tigris,  at  its  source,  and  after- 
wards the  Euphrates,  not  very  distant  from  it.  To 
eain  those  defiles,  before  the  enemy  couid  seize  them, 
it  iv;n  thought  proper  to  set  forwards  in  the  night,  in 
order  to  arrive  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  by  the 
break  of  day ;  which  was  done  accordingly.  Chiriso- 
piius  continued  at  the  head  of  the  advanced  guard, 
with  the  troops  armed  with  missive  weapons,  besides 
his  ordinary  corps;  and  Xenophon  in  the  rear,  with 
only  the  heavy-armed  soldiers,  because  at  that  time 
there  was  nothing  to  fear  on  that  side.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  the  country  had  taken  possession  of  several 
of  the  heights,  from  whence  it  was  necessary  to  dis- 
lodge them,  which  could  not  be  done  without  great 
danger  and  difficulty. 

The  officers,  having  held  a  council  of  war,  were  of 
opinion,  that  it  was  proper  to  leave  behind  them  all 
the  beasts  of  burden  not  absolutely  necessary,  with 
all  the  slaves  lately  taken;  because  both  the  one  and 
the  other  would  retard  their  inarch  too  much  in  the 
great  defiles  they  had  to  pass;  besides  which,  it  re- 
quired a  greater  quantity  of  provisions  to  support 
them,  and  those  who  had  the  care  of  the  beasts  were 
useless  in  fight.  That  regulation  was  executed  with- 
out delay,  and  they  continued  their  march  sometimes 
fighting,  sometimes  halting.  The  passing  of  the 
mountains,  which  took  up  seven  days,  fatigued  the 
troops  exceedingly, and  occasioned  some  loss;  but  at 
length  they  arrived  at  villages,  where  they  found 
provisions  in  abundance,  and  rested  some  days,  to 
recover  the  severe  fatigues  the  army  had  undergone, 
in  comparison  with  which  all  they  had  suffered  in 
Persia  was  trivial. 

But  they  found  themselves  soon  after  exposed  to 
new  danger.  Almost  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains 
they  came  to  a  river  two  hundrf^l  feet  in  breadth, 
calfed  Centrites,  which  stopped  their  inarch.  They 
lia'l  tb  defend  themselves  both  against  the  enemy, 
wl  o  pursued  them  in  the  rear,  and  the  Armenians, 
the  soldiers  of  the  country,  who  lined  the  opposite 
•ide.  of  the  river.  They  attempted  in  vain  to  pass  it 
in  a  place  where  the  water  came  up  to  their  arm-pits, 
and  were  carried  away  by  the  rapidity  of  the  current, 
which  the  weight  of  their  arms  made  them  unable  to 
resist.  By  good  fortune  they  discovered  another 
place  not  so  deep,  where  some  soldiers  had  seen  the 
people  of  the  country  pass.  It  required  abundance  of 
address,  diligence,  and  valour,  to  keep  off  the  enemy 
on  both  sides  of  them.  The  army  however  passed 
the  river  at  length  without  much  loss. 

They  marched  afterwards  with  less  interruption; 
naised  the  source  of  the  Tigris,  and  arrived  at  the 
little  river  Teleboa,  which  is  very  beautiful,  and  has 
many  villages  on  its  banks.  Here  began  the  western 
Armenia;  which  was  governed  by  Tiriba»us,  a  satrap 
much  beloved  by  the  king,  who  had  the  honour  to 
help  him  to  mount  on  horseback  when  at  court: '  he, 
offered  to  let  the  arm}'  pass,  and  to  suffer  the  soldiers 
to  take  all  they  wanted,  upon  condition  that  they 
ihould  commit  no  ravages  in  their  march;  which 
proposal  was  accepted  and  ratified  on  each  side. 
Tiribasiis  kept  always  a  flyinsr  camp  at  a  small  dis- 
tance from  the  army.  There  fell  a  great  quantity  of 
•now,  which  gave  the  troops-  some  inconvenience; 
and  they  learned  from  a  prisoner,  that  Tirihasus  de- 
•igned  to  attack  the  Greeks  in  their  passage  over  the 
mountains,  in  a  defile,  through  which  they  must 


t  Tlio  Froneh  translator  of  Xenophon  say*,  he  keld  tin 
knap's  ftirrup  when,  ke  pot  on  horseback,  without  consider- 
ing tlmt  the  ancicuti  lifted  none. 


necessarily  march.  They  prevented  him  oy  «t  zing 
that  post,  after  having  put  the  enemy  to  Might.  Aftei 
some  days'  march  through  deserts,  they  passed  the 
Euphrates  near  its  source,  not  having  the  water  above 
their  waist. 

They  suffered  exceedingly  afterwards  froni  a  north 
wind,  which  blew  in  their  faces,  and  obstructed  res- 
piration ;*so  that  it  was  thought  necessary  to  sacrifice 
to  the  wind,  upon  which  it  seemed  to  abate.  They 
marched  on  in  snow  five  or  six  feet  deep,  which  killed 
several  servants  and  beasts  of  burden,  besides  thirty 
soldiers.  They  made  several  fires  during  the  night 
for  they  found  plenty  of  wood.  All  the  next  day, 
they  continued  their  march  through  the  snow,  where 
many  of  them,  worn  down  with  hunger,  which  was 
followed  with  languor  or  fainting,  continued  lvin« 
upon  the  ground,  through  weakness  and  want  o? 
spirits.  When  something  had  been  given  them  to 
eat,  they  found  themselves  relieved,  and  continued 
their  march. 

The  enemy  still  pursued  thtm.  Many,  overtaken 
by  the  night,  remained  on  the  road  without  fire  or 
provisions,  so  that  several  died  of  their  hardships,  and 
the  enemy  who  followed  them  took  some  baggage. 
Some  soldiers  were  also  lefl  behind,  that  had  los  heir 
sight,  and  others  their  toes,  by  the  snow.  Against 
\he  first  evil  the  remedy  was  to  wear  something  black 
before  the  eyes;  and  against  the  other  to  keep  the 
legs  always  in  motion,  and  to  bare  the  feet  at  night. 
Arriving  at  a  more  commodious  place,  they  dispersed 
themselves  into  the  neighbouring  villages,  to  recover 
and  repose  after  their  fatigues.  The  houses  were 
built  under  ground,  with  an  opening  at  top,  like  a 
well,  through  which  the  descent  was  by  a  ladder; 
but  there  was  another  entrance  for  cattle.  They 
found  there  sheep,  rows,  goats,  poultry:  with  wheat, 
barley,  and  pulse;  and  for  drink,  there  was  beer, 
which  was  very  strong,  when  not  mingled  with  water, 
but  was  agreeable  to  those  who  were  used  to  it.  They 
drank  this  with  a  reed  out  of  the  vessels  that  held  the 
beer,  upon  which  they  saw  the  barley  swim.  The 
master  of  the  house  where  Xenophon  lay,  received 
him  very  kindly,  and  even  showed  him  where  some 
wine  was  concealed ;  besides  which  he  made  him  a 
present  of  several  horses.  He  taught  him  also  to 
fasten  a  kind  of  hurdles  to  their  feet,  and  to  do  the 
same  to  the  other  beasts  of  burden,  to  prevent  their 
sinking  in  the  snow;  without  which  they  would  have 
been  up  to  the  girth  in  it  at  every  step.  The  army, 
after  having  rested  seven  days  in  these  villages,  re- 
sumed their  route. 

After  a  march  of  seven  days,  they  arrived  at  the 
river  Araxes,  called  also  the  Phasis,  which  is  about  a 
hundred  feet  in  breadth.  Two  days  after  they  disco- 
vered the  Phasians,  the  Chalybes,  and  the  Taocians, 
who  kept  the  pass  of  the  mountains,  to  prevent  their 
descending  into  the  plain.  They  saw  it  was  impos- 
sible to  avoid  coming  to  a  battle  with  them,  and  re- 
solved to  engage  the  same  day.  Xeimphon,  \\ho 
observed  that  the  enemy  defended  only  the  ordinary 
passage,  and  that  the  mountain  was  three  leagues  in 
extent,  proposed  the  sending  of  a  detachment  to  take 
possession  of  the  heights  tlmt  commanded  the  enemy: 
which  would  not  be  difficult,  as  they  might  prevent 
all  suspicion  of  their  design  by  a  march  in  the  night 
and  by  making  a  false  attack  by  the  main  road,  t(» 
amuse  the  barbarians.  This  was  accordingly  executed, 
the  enemy  put  to  flight,  and  the  pass  cleared. 

They  crossed  the  country  of  the  Ohalybes.  who  ar« 
the  most  valiant  of  all  the  barbarians  in  those  parts. 
When  they  killed  an  enemy,  they  cut  off  his  head, 
and  carried  it  about  in  triumph,  singinir  an'l  dancing. 
They  kept  themselves  close  shi:t  up  in  their  cities 
and  when  the  army  marched,  fell  suddenly  np>n  the 
rear,  after  having  carried  every  thins  of  value  in  the 
country  into  places  of  safety.  After  twelve  or  fifteen 
days'  march,  th<-y  arrived  at  a  very  high  mountain, 
called  Teches,  from  whence  they  'descried  the  sea. 
The  first  who  perceived  it,  raised  great  shouts  of  joy 
for  a  considerable  time;  which  made  Xenophon  im- 
agine that  the  vanguard  was  attacked,  and  <ro  with 
haste  to  support  it.  A*  he  approached  nearer,  the 
cry  of  The  sea'  The  sea!  was  heard  distin  tlv  mv* 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


301 


the  alarm  changed  into  joy  and  gayety;  but  when 
they  came  to  the  top,  nothing  was  hetird  but  a  run- 
fused  noise  of  the  whole  ami)  rising  together,  Tlit 
tea!  Tlte  sea!  whilst  they  could  not  retrain  from 
tears,  nor  from  embracing  their  generals  and  officers. 
And  then,  without  waiting  tor  orders,  they  heaped 
up  a  pile  of  stun, •-,  and  erected  a  trophy  with  broken 
bocklen  and  shattered  arms. 

From  tlience  they  advanced  to  the  mountain  of 
Colchis,  one  of  which  was  higher  than  the  rest,  and 
of  that  the  people  of  the  country  had  possessed 
themst  Ivfrg.  The  Greek*  drew  up  in  battle  at  the 
bottom  of  it  to  ascend,  for  the  access  was  not  imprac- 
ticable. Xenophon  did  not  judge  it  proper  to  match 
in  lire  of  battle,  but  by  tiles:  because  the  soldiers 
cou!  i  not  keep  their  ranks,  from  the  inequality  of  the 
ground,  that  in  some  places  was  easy,  and  in  others 
difficult,  to  climb,  which  might  discourage  them. 
That  advice  was  approved,  and  the  army  formed  ac- 
cording to  it.  The  heavy-armed  troops  amounted  to 
fourscore  liles.  each  consisting  of  about  100  men, 
with  1800  light-armed  soldiers,  divided  into  three 
bodies,  one  of  which  was  posted  on  the  right,  another 
on  the  left,  and  a  third  in  the  centre.  After  having 
encouraged  his  troops,  by  representing  to  them  that 
tin*  was  the  last  obstacle  they  had  to  surmount,  and 
implored  the  assistance  of  the  gods,  the  army  began 
to  ascend  the  hill.  The  enemy  were  not  able  to  sup- 
port their  charge,  and  dispersed.  They  passed  the 
mountain,  and  encani|>ed  in  villages,  where  they  found 
provisions  in  abundance. 

A  very  strange  accident  happened  there  to  the 
army,  which  put  them  in  great  consternation.  For 
the  soldiers,  finding  abundance  of  bee-hives  in  that 
place,  and  eating  the  honey,  they  were  seized  with 
riolt-nt  vomiting  and  fluxes,  attended  with  delirious 
fit-:  M  that  those  who  were  least  ill  seemed  like 
drunken  men,  and  the  rest,  either  furiously  mad  or 
dying.  The  earth  was  strewed  with  their  bodies  as 
aftrr  a  defeat;  however,  none  of  them  died,  and  the 
distemper  ceased  the  next  day  about  the  game  time  it 
nad  s*  ized  them.  The  third  or  fourth  day  the  soldiers 
got  up,  but  in  a  condition  in  which  people  are  after 
taking  a  violtnt  medicine. 

Two  days  after,  the  army  arrived  near  Trebisond, 
a  Ciri  ek  colony  of  Sinopians,  situate  upon  the  F.uxine 
as  Black  Sea,  in  the  province  of  Colchis.  Here  they 
lay  t  ncamped  for  thirty  days,  and  acquitted  them- 
sehes  of  the  vows  they  had  made  to  Jupiter,  Her- 
cules, and  the  other  deities,  to  obtain  a  happy  return 
into  their  own  country.  They  also  celebrated  the 
games  of  the  horse  and  foot  races,  wrestling,  boxing, 
the  pancratium;  the  whole  attended  with  the  greatest 
joy  and  solemnity. 

SECTION  VI.  —  THE  GREEKS,  AFTER  HAVING 
UMHKGONE  EXCESSIVE  FATIGUES,  AND  SUR- 
M< UNTKD  MANY  DANGERS,  ARRIVE  UPON  THE 
SKA  COAST  OPPOSITE  TO  BYZANTIUM.  THEY 
PASS  THE  STRAIT,  AND  ENGAGE  IN  THE  SER- 
VICE OF  SEUTHES,  PRINCE  OF  THRACE.  XENO- 
PHON AFTERWARDS  REPASSES  THE  SEA  WITH 
HIS  TROOPS.  ADVANCES  TO  PERGAMUS,  AND  JOINS 
THIMKRON.  GENERAL  OF  THE  IJVCED.t.MONIANS. 
WHO  WAS  MARCHING  AGAINST  TISSAPHERNES 
AND  PHARNABAZCS. 

A KTKH  having  offered  sacrifice  to  the  several  divi- 
mtits'aiul  celebrated  the  games,  they  deliberated 
upon  the  proper  measure*  for  thejr  return  into 
Gn  <  .  e.  They  concluded  upon  going  thither  by  sea. 
And  tVir  that  purpose  Chirisophus  offered  to  go  to 
Annxihiu*.  the  admiral  of  Sparta,  who  was  his  friend, 
in  hop-s  of  being  able  to  obtain  ships  of  him.  He 
*et  out  directly,  and  Xenophon  regulated  the  order 
it  \v.-i-  iiere««ai-y  tn  observe,  and  the  precautions  to 
he  taken  for  the  security  of  the  camp,  provision-,  and 
for: i<re.  He  IK  lieved  it  also  proper  to  make  sure  of 
lonie  vessel*,  besides  those  that  were  expected,  and 
made  some  expeditions  against  the  neighbouring1 
people. 

As   Chirisophus   did   not   return    so  toon   as  was 


Vol..  I.-46 


1  Xcnoph.  1.  TI 


expected,  and  provisions  began  to  be  wanting,  it  was, 
resolved  to  proceed  by  land;  because  there  was  not 
a  sufficient  number  of  ships  to  transport  the  whole 
army;  and  those  which  the  precaution  of  Xenophoo 
had  procured,  were  allotted  to  carry  the  women,  the 
old  and  »ick  men,  with  all  the  unnecessary  baggage. 
The  army  continued  its  march,  and  lay  ten  days  at 
Cerasus,*  where  there  was  a  general  review  of  the 
troops,  who  were  found  to  amount  to  8,600  men,  out 
of  about  10.000;  the  rest  having  died  in  the  retreat, 
of  their  wounds,  fatigue,  or  diseases. 

In  the  short  time  that  the  Gretks  continued  in 
these  parts,  several  disputes  arose,  its  wt  II  with  the 
inhabitants  of  the  country,  as  with  some  of  the  officer* 
who  were  jealous  of  Xenophon's  authorin  ,  and  en- 
deavoured to  render  him  odious  to  the  army.  But 
his  prudence  and  moderation  put  a  stop  to  those  dis- 
orders, having  made  the  soldiers  sensible,  that  their 
safety  depended  upon  preserving  union  and  a  good 
understanding  amongst  themselves,  and  obedience  to 
their  generals. 

From  Cermsus  they  went  to  Colyora,  which  is  not 
very  remote  from  it.  They  there  deliberated  ajrain 
upon  the  proper  measures  for  their  return.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  country  represented  the  almost 
insupportable  difficulties  of  going  by  land,  from  the 
defiles  and  rivers  they  had  to  pass,  and  offered  to 
supplv  the  Greeks  with  ships.  This  seemed  the  best 
expedient,  and  the  army  embarked  accordingly. 
They  arrived  the  next  day  at  Sinope,  a  citv  of 
Paphlagonia,  and  a  colony  of  the  Milesians.  Chiri- 
sophus  repaired  thither  with  galleys,  but  withou 
money,  though  the  troops  expected  to  receive  some. 
He  assured  them  that  the  army  should  be  |>aid  as 
soon  as  they  were  out  of  the  F.nxine  sea;  and  that 
their  retreat  was  universally  celebrated,  and  the  sub- 
ject of  the  discourse  and  admiration  of  all  Greece. 

The  soldiers  finding  themselves  near  enough  ti, 
Greece,  desired  to  make  some  booty  before  they  ar 
rived  there,  and  with  that  view  resolved  to  nominate 
a  general  with  full  authority,  whereas,  till  then,  alt 
a  Hairs  were  determined  in  the  council  of  war  bv  the 
plurality  of  voices.  They  cast  their  eyes  upon  Xen- 
ophon, and  caused  him  to  be  desired  to  accept  tha 
office.  He  was  not  insensible  to  the  honour  of  com- 
manding in  chief;  but  he  foresaw  the  consequence*, 
and  desired  time  to  consider.  After  having  expressed 
his  high  sense  of  gratitude  for  an  office  so  much  to 
his  honour,  he  represented,  that,  to  avoid  jealousy 
and  division,  the  success  of  affairs,  and  the  interest 
of  the  army,  seemed  to  require  that  they  should 
choose  a  Lacedaemonian  for  their  general,  as  th« 
Spartan  state  at  that  time  was  actually  mistress  of 
Greece,  and  in  consideration  of  that  choice,  would  be 
better  disposed  to  support  them.  This  reason  was 
not  relished,  and  they  objected,  that  they  were  far 
from  intending  to  depend^  servilely  upon  Sparta,  or 
to  submit  to  regulate  their  enterprises  by  the  plea- 
sure or  dislike  of  that  slate:  and  pressed  him  again  to 
accept  the  command.  He  was  then  obliged  to  explain 
himself  plainly,  and  without  evasion;  and  declared, 
that  having  consulted  the  gods  bv  sacrifice  upon  the 
offer  they  made  him,  they  had  manifested  their  will 
bv  evident  signs,  from  whence  it  appeared  that  they 
did  not  approve  their  choice.  It  was  surprising  to 
see  the  impression  which  the  sole  mention  of  the  godi 
made  upon  the  soldiers,  otherwise  very  warm  and 
tenacious:  and  who  besides  are  commonly  little  af- 
fected with  the  motives  of  religion.  Th»ir  great 
ardour  abated  immediately,  and  without  making  anjr 
reply,  thev  proceeded  to  elect  Chirisophus,  though  a 
Lac'edsemonian.  for  their  general. 

His  authority  was  of  no  long  continuance.  D'n- 
cord.  as  Xenophon  had  foreseen,  arose  ar>:r>n<rst  the 
troops,  who  were  angry  that  their  general  prevented 
their  plundering-  the  Grecian  cities  through  which 
they  pas«ed.  This  disturbance  was  principally  ex- 
cited by  the  Peloponnesians,  who  composed  one  hall 
of  the  army,  and  could  not  see  Xenophon,  an  Athe 


*  Thin  city  of  Corpus  Wamc  fnmoiin  for  the  ckr-Try-ln** 
which    I.urullus  first    bruu^iit    into   Italy,  anil  whirli   from 
tlieuce  hare  been  dispcr»<.<t  all  over  the  weito/n  wurU. 
2F 


302 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


nian,  in  authority,  without  pain.  Different  measures 
were  proposed;  but  nothing  being  concluded,  the 
troops  divided  themselves  into  three  bodies,  of  which 
the  Achaians  and  Arcadians,  that  is,  the  Peloponne- 
siaus  were  the  principal,  amounting  to  4,500  heavy- 
anncd  loot,  with  Lycon  and  Calliiuachus  lor  their 
general*.  Cbirisophus  commanded  another  party  of 
about  1400  men,  besides  700  light-armed  infantry. 
Xenophon  had  the  third,  almost  the  same  in  number, 
of  which  300  were  light-armed  soldiers,  with  about 
40  horse,  which  were  all  the  cavalry  of  the  army. 
The  first  having  obtained  ships  from  the  people  of 
•Heraclea,1  to  whom  they  had  sent  to  demand  them, 
set  out  before  the  rest  to  make  some  booty,  and  made 
a  descent  in  the  port  of  Calpe.  Chirisophus,  who 
was  sick,  marched  by  land,  but  without  quitting  the 
coa-t.  Xenophon  landed  at  Heraclea,  and  entered 
into  the  heart  of  the  country. 

New  divisions  arose.  The  imprudence  of  the  troops 
and  their  leaders  had  involved  .them  in  several  diffi- 
culties, not  without  loss,  from  whence  the  address  of 
Xenophon  extricated  them  more  than  once.  Being 
all  re-united  again,  after  various  success,  they  arrived 
bv  land  at  Chrysopolis  of  Chalcedon,  facing  Byzan- 
tium, whither  they  repaired  some  days  after,  having 
passed  the  small  arm  of  the  sea  which  separates  the 
two  continents.  They  were  upon  the  point  of  plun- 
dering that  rich  and  powerful  city,  to  revenge  a  fraud 
and  injury  which  had  been  done  them,  and  from  the 
hjpe  of  enriching  themselves  once  for  all,  when  Xen- 
ophon made  all  possible  haste  thither.  He  admitted 
the  justice  of  their  revenge,  but  he  made  them  sensi- 
ble of  the  fatal  consequences  which  would  attend  it. 
"  After  your  plundering  this  city,  and  destroying  the 
Lacedaemonians  established  in  it,  you  will  be  deemed 
the  mortal  enemies  of  their  republic,  and  of  all  their 
allies.  Athens,  my  country,  that  had  400  galleys  at 
sea  and  in  the  arsenals,  when  it  took  up  arms  against 
them,  great  sums  of  money  in  its  treasury,  a  revenue 
of  1000  talents,  and  was  in  possession  of  all  the  isles 
of  Greece,  and  of  many  cities  in  Europe  and  Asia,  of 
which  this  was  one,  has  nevertheless  been  reduced  to 
yield  to  their  power,  and  submit  to  their  sway.  And 
can  you  hope,  who  are  but  a  handful  of  men,  without 
generals,  provisions,  allies,  or  any  resource,  either 
from  Tissaphernes,  who  has  betrayed  you,  or  the  king 
of  Persia,  whom  you  have  attempted  to  dethrone;  can 
you  hope,  I  say,  in  such  a  condition,  to  make  head 
against  the  Lacedaemonians?  Let  us  demand  satis- 
faction of  the  Byzantines,  and  not  avenge  their  fault 
by  a  much  greater  of  our  own,  which  must  draw  upon 
us  inevitable  ruin.''  He  was  believed,  and  the  affair 
accommodated. 

From  thence  he  led  them  to  Salmydessa,*  to  serve 
Seuthes,  prince  of  Thrace,  who  had  before  solicited 
him  by  his  envoys,  to  bring  troop*  to  his  aid,  in  order 
to  his  re-establishment  in  his  father's  dominions,  of 
whirh  his  enemies  had  deprived  him.  He  had  made 
Xenophon  great  promises  for  himself  and  his  troops; 
but  when  he  had  done  him  the  service  he  wanted,  he 
was  so  far  from  keeping  his  word,  that  he  did  not  give 
him  the  pay  agreed  upon.  Xenophon  keenly  re- 
proached him  with  this  breach  of  faith;  imputing-  his 
perfidy  to  his  minister  Heraclides,  who  thought  to 
make  his  court  to  his  master,  by  saving  him  a  sum  of 
money  at  the  expense  of  justice,  faith,  and  honesty; 
qualities  which  ought  to  be  dearer  than  all  others  to  a 
prince,  as  they  contribute  the  most  to  his  reputation, 
as  well  as  to  the  success  of  affairs,  and  the  security 
of  a -rite.  But  that  treacherous  minister,  who  looked 
upon  honour,  probity,  and  justice,  as  mere  chimeras, 
and  that  there  was  nothing  real  but  the  possession  of 
much  money,  thought  only  of  enriching  himself  by 
any  means  whatsoever,  and  robbed  his"  master  first 
with  impunity,  and  all  his  subjects  along  with  him. 
"  However."  continues  Xenophon,  "every  wise  man, 
especially  if  vested  with  authority  and  command, 
ought  to  regard  justice,  probitv,  and  the  faith  of  en- 
p-i-i  IIH  nt-,  as  the  must  precicus  treasure  he  can 
and  MS  an  assured  resource,  and  an  infallible 
support  in  all  the  events  that  can  happen."  Hera- 


•  A  city  of  Pcntus. 


•  Xenoph,  I  vii. 


elides  was  the  more  in  the  wrong  for  acting  in  thta 
manner  towards  the  troops,  as  he  was  a  native  of 
Greece,  and  not  a  Thraciau;  but  avarice  had  extin- 
guished all  sense  of  honour  in  him. 

Whilst  the  dispute  between  Seuthes  and  Xenophon 
was  warmest,  Chat-minus  and  Polvnicts  arrived  as 
ambassadors  from  Lacedwmon,  and  brought  ad \  ice, 
that  the  republic,  had  declared  war  against  Tissa- 
phernes and  Pharnabazus;  that  Thimbron  had  already 
embarked  with  troops,  and  promised  a  darick  a  month 
to  every  soldier,  two  to  each  officer,  and  four  to  the 
colonels,  who  should  engage  in  the  service.  Xeno- 
phon accepted  the  offer;  and  having  obtained  from 
Seuthes,  by  the  mediation  of  the  ambassadors,  part 
of  the  pay  due  to  him,  he  went  by  sea  to  Lampsacus 
with  the  army,  which  amounted  at  that  time  to  almost 
six  thousand  men.  From  thence  he  advanced  to 
Pergamus,  a  city  in  the  Troad.  Having  met  near 
Parthenia,  where  ended  the  expedition  of  the  Greeks, 
a  great  nobleman  returning  into  Persia,  he  look  him, 
his  wife  and  children,  with  all  his  equipage,  and  by 
that  means  found  himself  in  a  condition  to  bestow 
great  largesses  upon  the  soldiers,  afnd  to  make  them 
a  satisfactory  amends  for  all  the  losses  they  had  sus- 
tained. Thimbron  at  length  arrived,  who  took  upon 
him  the  command  of  the  troops,  and  having  joi.ied 
them  with  his  own,  marched  against  Tissaphcrnis  and 
Pharnabazus. 

Such  was  the  event  of  Cyrus's  expedition.  Xen- 
ophon reckons,3  from  the  first  setting  out  of  that 
prince's  army  from  the  city  of  Ephesus  to  their  arrival 
where  the  battle  was  fought,  five  hundred  aud  thirty 
parasangas  or  leagues,  ancJ  ninety-three  days'  march  ;* 
and  in  their  return  from  the  place  ol  battle  to  Cotv- 
ora,  a  city  upon  the  coast  of  the  F.nxine  or  Black 
sea,  six  hundred  and  twenty  parosa.i',u?  or  leagues, 
and  a  hundred  and  twenty-two  day V  march.  And 
adding  both  together,  he  say?,  the  »,-ay,  fV'ing  and 
coming,  was  one  thousand  one  hunched  arid  titty-five 
parasangas  or  leagues,5  and  two  hvr.rired  find  fifteen 
days'  march;'  and  that  the  whole  time  the  «rmy 
took  to  perform  that  journey,  inctu  J:ng  the  days  cf 
rest,  was  fifteen  months. 

It  appears  by  this  calculation,  'hat  the  army  of 
Cyrus  marched  daily,  one  day  «ri./.i  another,  almort 
six  Parasangas  or  leagues  in  go'n«,T  and  only  five  in 
their  return.  It  was  natural  thai  Cyrus,  who  desired 
to  surprise  his  brother,  should  use  all  possible  dili- 
gence for  that  purpose. 

The  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand  Greeks  has  always 
passed  amongst  judges  in  the  art  of  war,  as  I  have 
already  observed,  for  a  perfect  model  of  its  kind, 
which  has  never  had  a  parallel.  Indeed,  no  enter' 
prise  could  be  formed  with  more  valour  and  Lra\er» 
nor  conducted  with  more  prudence,  nor  e.xecute»« 
with  more  success.  Ten  thousand  men,  fiv*  01  fit 
hundred  leagues  from  their  own  country,  vino  Lai 
lost  their  generals  and  best  officers,  and  fir.t  xSou 
selves  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  vast  empif:  v  n  ici 
take,  in  the  sight  of  a  victorious  and  numero  u  fc  n.iy 
with  the  king  at  the  head  of  it,  to  retire  thr  i  -^h  tto 
seat  of  his  empire,  and  in  a  manner  from  the  r.  t>  i  oJ 


*  Xenoph.  de  Exped.  Cyr.  1.  ii.  p.  076. 
4  Ibid    1.  v.  p  nJ5. 

•  I  arid,  jirc.  which  arc  left  out  in  the  text,  to  LA  •«  thf 
total  agree  with  the  two  parts. 

•  Xenoph    I.  vii.  p.  4'.'?. 

*  The  pamsania  is  a  road  measure  peculiar  to  the  Per- 
sian*, and  nitisisu  of  thirty  stadia      The  stadium  is  a  >  're 
cian  measure,  and  contains,  according  to  the  most   received 
opinion,  123  ?come;rical  pares;  twenty  of  whir  i   in  conse- 
quence are  required  to  the  common  French  league,  which 
consists  of  £500  paces.     And  this  has  hf en  my  rule  hitherto 
according  to  which  the  parasanza  i*  a  league  and  a  half. 

But  I  olxerre  here  a  jrreat  difficulty.  .Accenting  to  this 
calculation  wo  should  find  the  ordinary  days'  mam  PS  of 
Cyrus,  with  an  army  of  more  than  100.000  men,  would  havw 
hern,  one  day  with  another,  nine  leagues,  during  FO  Ion"  a 
time,  which,  according  to  the  jud;ts  in  military  affairs,  i* 
xhsolutely  impossible.  Thin  is  what  has  determine!,  me  t» 
compute  the  parasanga  at  no  more  than  a  leairuc.  "'-veral 
authors  have  remarked,  and  indeed  it  is  not  to  hp  A  uhted. 
that  the  stadium,  and  all  the  other  road  measure,  f  tho 
undents,  have  differed  widely  according  to  time*  am  Vicet, 
as  they  still  do  amongst  ua. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


3t>3 


his  paint  e,  and  to  travel se  a  vast  extent  of  unknown 
countries,  almost  all  in  arms  against  them,  without 
being  dismayed  by  the  prospect  of  the  innumerable 
obstacles  and  dangers,  to  which  they  were  every  mo- 
ment exposed;  the  passage  of  rivers,  of  mountains, 
end  defiles;  open  attacks,  or  secret  ambuscades  from 
the  people  upon  their  route;  famine,  almost  inevita- 
ble in  vast  and  desert  regions;  and  above  all,  the 
treachery  they  had  to  feak-  from  the  troops,  who 
teemed  to  be  employed  in  escorting  them,  but  in 
reality  had  orders  to  destroy  them,  r  or  Artaxerxes, 
who  was  sensible  how  much  the  return  of  those 
Greeks  into  their  country  would  rover  him  with  dis- 
grace, and  discredit  the  majesty  of  the  empire  in  the 
opinion  of  all  nations,  had  left  nothing  undone  to 
prevent  it;  and  he  desired  their  destruction,  says 
Plutarch,  more  passionately  than  to  conquer  Cyrus 
himself,  or  to  preserve  his  dominions.  Those  ten 
thousand  men,  however,  notwithstanding  so  many 
obstacles,  carried  their  point,  and  arrived,  through  a 
thousand  dangers,  victorious  and  triumphant  in  their 
own  country.  Antony  long  after,1  when  pursued  by 
the  Parthians  almost  in  the  same  country,  finding 
himself  in  like  danger,  cried  out  in  admiration  of  their 
invincible  valour,  Oh  the  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand! 
And  it  was  the  good  success  of  this  famous  retreat, 
which  filled  the  people  of  Greece  with  contempt  for 
Artaxerxes,  by  demonstrating  to  them,  that  gold,  sil- 
ver, luxury,  voluptuousness,  and  a  numerous  seraglio 
of  women,  were  the  sole  merit  of  the  Great  King; 
but  that,  as  to  the  rest,  his  opulence  and  all  his  boast- 
ed power  were  only  pride  and  vain  ostentation.  It 
was  this  prejudice,  more  universal  than  ever  in 
Greece  after  this  celebaated  expedition,  that  gave 
birth  to  those  bold  enterprises  of  the  Greeks,  of  which 
we  shall  soon  treat,  that  made  Artaxerxes  tremble 
upon  his  throne,  and  brought  the  Persian  empire  to 
the  very  brink  of  destruction. 

SECTION  VII.  —  CONSEQUENCES  OF  CYRUS'S 
DEATH  IN  THE  COURT  OK  ARTAXERXES.  CRUEL- 
TY AND  JEALOUSY  OF  PARYSATIS.  STATIRA  POI- 
SONED. 

I  RETURN  to  what  paesed  after  the  battle  of  Cu- 
nax:i  in  the  court  of  Attaxerxes.2  As  he  believed 
that  he  had  killed  Cyrus  with  his  own  hand,  and 
looked  upon  that  action  as  the  most  glorious  of  his 
life,  he  desired  that  all  the  world  should  think  the 
same;  as  it  was  wounding  him  in  the  most  tender 
part,  to  dispute  that  honour,  or  endeavour  to  share 
it,  with  him.  The  Carian  soldier,  whom  we  men- 
tioned before,  not  contented  with  the  great  presents 
the  king  had  made  him  upon  a  different  pretext, 
perpetually  declared  to  all  that  would  hear  him,  that 
none  hut  himself  had  killed  Cyrus,  and  that  the 
king  did  him  sreat  injustice  in  depriving  him  of  the 
glory  due  to  him.  The  prince,  upon  being  informed 
of  that  insolence,  conceived  a  jealousy  equallv  base 
and  cruel,  and  had  the  weakness  to  cause  him  to  be 
delivered  to  Parvsatis,  who  had  sworn  the  destruc- 
tion of  all  those  that  had  any  share  in  the  death  of 
her  son.  Animated  by  a  h«*'--rou»  spirit  of  ven- 
geance, she  commanded  trie  executioners  to  take 
that  unfortunate  wretch,  and  to  make  him  suffer  the 
most  exquisite  tortures  during  ten  davs;.  then  after 
thev  had  torn  out  his  eves,  to  pour  melted  brass  into 
bis  ears,  till  he  expired  in  that  cruel  agony;  which 
wag  accordingly  executed. 

MithridaUs  also,  having  boasted  in  an  entertain- 
ment where  he  had  heated  his  brain  with  wine,  that 
it  was  he  xvho  gave  Cyrus  his  mortal  wound,  paid 
•erv  dear  for  that  absurd  and  imprudent  vanitv.  He 
jvas  condemned  to  sutler  the  punishment  of  the 
troughs,8  one  of  the  most  cnifl  that  was  ever  inven- 
ted, and  aller  having  languished  in  torment  seven- 
teen davs,  died  at  last  in  exquisite  mi-ery. 

There  only  remained,  for  the  final  execution  of 
Parys'Uis's  project,  an  J  fully  to  satiate  her  vengeance, 

-  Pint,  in   Anton    p.  937.     'il  .u-Jfti. 
»  Plut.  in  . \rtax    p.  101."— 1021. 

•  Sec  the  description  of  tliii  torture,  ai  before  given  in 
(hi*  vuliune,  p.  355. 


the  punishment  of  the  king's  eunuch  Messabates,  who 
by  his  master's  order  had  cut  oil  the  head  and  hand 
of  Cyrus.  Gut  as  there  was  nothing  to  take  hold  oi 
in  his  conduct,  Parysali*  laid  this  snare  for  him.  She 
was  a  woman  of  great  address,  had  abundance  ol 
wit,  and  excelled  at  playing  a  Certain  game  with 
dice.  After  the  war,  she  hau  been  reconciled  with 
the  king,  played  often  with  him,  was  of  all  his  par- 
ties, had  an  unbounded  complaisance  fur  him,  and  lar 
from  contradicting  him  in  any  thing,  anticipated  his  de- 
sires, did  not  blush  at  indulging  his  passions,  and  even 
of  supplying  him  with  the  means  of  gratia  ing  tin  in. 
But  she  took  especial  care  never  to  lose  sight  of 
him,  and  to  leave  Staliraas  little  alone  \\ith  him  as 
she  could,  desiring  to  gain  an  absolute  a*cendant 
over  her  son. 

One  day  seeing  the  king  entirely  unemployed,  and 
with  no  thoughts  but  of  diverting  himself,  she  pro- 
posed playing  at  dice  with  him  for  10UO  d«rick>,4  to 
which  he  readily  consented.  She  suffered  him  to  win, 
and  paid  down  the  money.  But  affecting  regret  and 
vexation,  she  pressed  him  to  begin  again,  and  to  play 
with  her  for  a  eunuch.  The  king,  uho  MtspeclM 
nothing,  complied,  and  they  agreed  to  except  live  of 
the  favourite  eunuchs  on  each  side,  that  the  winner 
should  take  their  choice  out  of  the  rt=i,  and  the 
loser  be  bound  to  deliver  him.  Having  made  these 
conditions,  they  sat  down  to  play.  The  queen  win 
all  attention  to  the  game,  and  made  use  of  all  her 
skill  and  address  in  it;  besides  which  the  dice  fa- 
voured her.  She  won,  and  chose  Messabates,  for  he 
was  not  one  of  those  that  had  been  exempted.  As 
soon  as  she  got  him  into  her  hands,  before  the  king 
could  have  the  least  suspicion  of  the  revenge  she 
meditated,  she  delivered  him  to  the  executioner*,  "nd 
commanded  them  to  Hay  him  alive,  to  lay  him  after- 
wards upon  three  cross  bars.5  and  to  stretch  his  skin 
before  his  eyes  upon  stakes  prepared  for  that  purpose; 
which  was  performed  accordingly.  When  the  king 
knew  this,  he  was  very  sorry  tor  it,  a:;d  violently 
angry  with  his  mother.  But  without  giving  herself 
any  farther  trouble  about  it,  she  told  him  with  a 
smile,  and  in  a  jesting  way,  "  Really,  you  are  a  great 
loser,  and  must  be  highly  in  the  right,  to  be  so  much 
out  of  humour  for  a  decrepid  wretch  of  a  eunuch, 
when  I,  who  lost  1000  good  daricks,  and  paid  them 
down  upon  the  spot,  don't  say  a  word,  and  am  satis- 
fied." 

All  these  cruelties  seem  to  have  been  only  essayi 
and  preparations  for  a  greater  crime  which  Parysatui 
meditated.  She  had  long  retained  in  her  heart  a  vio- 
lent hatred  for  queen  Stutira,  marks  of  which  she  had 
suffered  to  escape  her  upon  many  occasions.  She  per» 
ceived  plainly,  that  her  influence  with  the  king  hei 
son,  was  only  the  effect  of  his  respect  and  considera- 
tion for  her  as  his  mother;  whereas  that  for  Statira 
was  founded  in  love  and  confidence,  which  rendered 
that  influence  much  more  secure.  Of  what  is  not  the 
jealousy  of  an  ambitious  woman  capable  .'  She  resolv- 
ed to  rid  herself,  whatever  it  cost  her,  of  so  formida- 
ble a  rival. 

For  the  more  certain  attainment  of  her  ends,  she 
feigned  a  reconciliation  with  her  daughter-in-law,  and 
treated  her  with  all  the  exterior  marks  of  sincere 
friendship  and  real  confidence.  The  two  queens,  ap- 
pearing therefore  to  have  forgotten  their  former  sus- 
picions and  quarrels,  lived  upon  good  terms  togeth- 
er, saw  one  another  as  before,  and  ate  at  each  other's 
apartments.  But  as  both  of  them  well  knew  what 
reliance  was  to  be  placed  upon  the  friendships  and 
caresses  of  the  court,  especially  amongst  the  wo- 
men, they  were  neither  of  them  the  dupe  of  tiie  oth- 
er; and  as  the  same  fears  alwa\s  subsisted,  they  kept 
upon  their  guard,  and  never  ate  but  ol  the  same  di»h« 
es  and  pieces.  Could  one  believe  it  possible  to  d«- 
ceive  so  attentive  and  cautious  a  vigilance?  P»r [fa- 
ils, one  day  when  her  daughter-in-law  was  at  table 
with  her,  took  an  extremely  exqui.-ite  bird  that  had 
bet  n  served  up,  cut  it  in  two  parts,  gave  one  half  to 
Statira. and  ate  the  other  herself.  Statira  soon  after 


«  The dar ck  was  worlh  ten  livren. 

»  Plutarch  explains  this  circumstance  no  funnel. 


ai»4 


HISTORY  OF  TIIE 


wag  seized  with  sharp  paint,  and  having  quitted 
the.  Inble,  died  in  the  most  horrible  convulsions,  not 
without  inspiring  the  king  with  the  most  violent  sus- 
l.icions  ot' his  mother,  of  whose  cruelty,  and  implaca- 
ble and  revengeful  spirit,  he  was  sufficiently  sensible 
before.  He  made  the  strictest  inquiry  into  the 
crime.  All  his  mother's  officers  and  domestics  were 
•eized,  and  put  to  the  torture;  when  Gygis,  one  of 
Parysatis's  women,  and  the  confidant  of  all  her  se- 
crets, confessed  the  whole.  She  had  caused  one 
tide  of  a  knife  to  be  rubbed  with  poison,  so  that 
Parysatis,  having  cut  the  bird  in  two,  put  the  sound 
part  into  her  own  mouth  directly,  ami  gave  Statira 
the  other  that  wag  poisoned.  Gygis  was  put  to 
death  after  the  manner  that  the  Persians  punished 
prisoners,  which  is  thus:  they  lay  their  heads  upon  a 
great  and  very  broad  stone,  ana  beat  upon  it  with 
another  until  they  are  entirety  crushed,  and  have  no 
remains  of  their  former  figure.  As  for  Parysatis, 
the  king  contented  himself  with  confining  her  to  Ba- 
bylon, whither  she  demanded  to  retire,  and  told  her, 
that  he  would  never  set  his  foot  within  it  whilst  she 
was  there. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SECTION  I.— THE  GRECIAN  CITIES  OF  IONIA  IM- 
PLORE AID  OF  THE  LACED.EMOMANS  AGAINST 
ARTAXERXES.  RARE  PRUDENCE  OF  A  LADY 
CONTINUED  IN  HER  HUSBAND'S  GOVERNMENT 
AFTER  HIS  DEATH.  AGESH.AUS  ELECTED  KING 
OF  SPARTA.  HIS  CHARACTER. 

THE  cities  of  Ionia,1  that  had  followed  the  party 
ot" Cyrus,  apprehending  the  resentment  of  Tissapher- 
nes,  had  applied  to  the  Lacedemonian?  as  the  deliv- 
erers of  Greece,  requesting  that  they  would  sup- 
port them  in  the  possession  of  the  liberty  they  enjoy- 
ed, and  prevent  their  country  from  being  ravaged. 
We  have  already  said  that  Thimbron  was  sent  thith- 
er, to  whose  troops  Xenophon  had  joined  nis,  after 
their  return  from  Persia.  Thim- 
A.  M.3605.  bron  was  soon  recalled  upon  some 
A.nt.  J.  C.  399.  discontent,  and  had  for  his  succes- 
»or  Dercyllidas,  surnamed  Sisy- 
phu*.  from  his  industry  in  finding  resource?,  and 
his  ability  in  inventing  machines  of  war.  He  took 
upon  him  the  command  of  the  army  at  Ephe*us. 
When  he  arrived  there,  he  was  apprized,  that  there 
was  a  dispute  between  the  two  satraps,  who  comman- 
ded in  the  country. 

The  provinces  of  the  Persian  monarchy,  of  which 
several,  situate  at  the  extremity  of  the  empire,  re- 
quired too  much  application  to  be  governed  imme- 
diately by  the  prince,  were  confided  to  the  care  of 
the  great  lords  commonly  called  Satraps.  They  had 
each  of  them  in  their  government  an  almo-t  sove- 
reign authority,  and  were,  properly  speaking,  not 
unlike  the  viceroys  we  gee  in  our  days  in  some  neigh- 
bouring slates.  They  were  supplied  with  a  number 
of  troop*  sufficient  for  the  defence  of  the  country. 
Thev  appointed  all  officers,  disposed  of  the  govern- 
ments of  cities,  and  were  charged  with  levying  and 
remitting  the  tributes  to  the  prince.  They  had  JHJW- 
er  to  raise  troop.*,  to  treat  with  neighbouring  states, 
and  even  with  the  generals  of  the  enemy  —  in  a 
word,  to  do  every  tiling  necessary  to  maintain  good 
order  and  tranquillity  in  their  governments.  They 
weie  independent  of  one  another;  and  though  they 
served  the  same  master,  and  it  was  theirdutv  to  con- 
cur to  the  smiie  ends,  nevertheless,  each  hems:  more 
interf -led  in  th»  p.irtimlir  advantage  of  his  own 
province,  than  in  the  general  good  of  the  empire, 
they  often  differed,  among  themselves,  formed  oppo- 
site design',  refused  aid  to  their  colleagues  in  ne- 
cessity, and  sometimes  even  acted  entirely  against 
them.  The  remoteness  of  the  court,  and  the  ab- 
»encc  of  the  prince,  gave  room  for  theie  dissension'; 
and  perhaps  a  secret  policy  contributed  to  keep 
them  up,  to  elude  or  prevent  conspiracies,  which  too 


»  XM.oph.  Hisl.  Grsec.  I.  iii.  p.  47J— 487. 


good  an  understanding  amongst  the  governors  inigbl 
have  excited. 

Dercyllidas  having  heard,  therefore,  that  Tissa 
phernes  and  Pharnabazus  were  at  variance,  made  a 
truce  with  the  former,  that  he  might  not  have  them 
both  upon  his  hands  at  the  same  time,  entered 
Pharnabatns's  province,  and  advanced  asfaras  .iolia. 

Zenis,  the  Dardanian,  had  governed  that  province 
under  that  satrap's  authority;  and  as  after  his  death 
it  was  to  have  been  given  to  another,  Mania,  his  wid- 
ow, went  to  Pharnabazus  with  troops  and  presents, 
and  told  him,  that  having  been  the  wile  of  a  man 
who  had  rendered  him  great  services,  she  desired 
him  not  to  deprive  her  of  her  husband's  reward ;  that 
she  would  serve  him  with  the  same  zeal  and  fidelity; 
and  that,  if  she  failed  in  either,  he  was  always  a\  liberty 
to  tak«»  Jier  government  from  her.  She  was  continued 
in  it  by  this  mean;!,  and  acquitted  herself  with  all  the 
judgment  and  ability  that  could  have  been  expected 
from  the  most  consummate  master  in  the  art  of  rul- 
ing. To  the  ordinary  tributes  which  her  husband 
had  paid,  she  added  presents  of  extraordinary  magni- 
ficence; and  when  Pharnabazus  came  into  her  pro- 
vince, she  entertained  him  more  splendidly  than  a.iy 
of  the  other  governors.  She  was  not  contented  with 
the  conservation  of  the  cities  committed  to  her  care 
she  nr.ule  new  conquests,  and  took  Larissa,2  Auiaxita 
and  Colona. 

Hence  we  may  observe,  that  prudence,  good  sense 
and  courage,  are  of  all  sexes.  She  was  present  in  all 
expeditions  in  a  chariot,  and  in  person  decreed  re- 
wards and  punishments.  None  of  the  neighbouring 
provinces  had  a  finer  army  than  her*,  in  whicti  she 
had  a  great  number  of  Greek  soldiers  in  her  pay.  She 
even  attended  Pharnabazus  in  all  his  enterpnzes,  and 
was  of  no  common  support  to  him.  So  that  the  sa- 
trap, who  knew  all  the  value  of  so  extraordinary  a 
merit,  did  more  honour  to  this  lady,  than  to  all  the 
other  governors.  He  even  admitted  her  into  his 
council,  and  treated  her  with  such  a  distinction  as 
might  have  excited  jealousy,  if  the  modesty  and  affa- 
bility of  that  lady  had  not  prevented  bad  edict*,  by 
throwing  in  a  manner  a  veil  over  all  her  perfections, 
which  softened  their  lustre,  and  let  them  only  occa- 
sionally appear  as  objects  of  admiration. 

She  had  no  enemies  but  in  her  own  family.  Midias, 
her  son-in-law,  stung  with  the  reproach  of  suffering 
a  woman  to  command  in  his  place,  and  abusing  the 
entire  confidence  she  reposed  in  him,  which  gave  him 
access  to  her  at  all  times,  strangled  her  with  her 
son.  After  her  death,  he  seized  two  fortresses, 
wherein  she  had  secured  her  treasures:  the  other 
cities  declared  against  him.  He  did  not  long  enjoy 
the  fruits  of  his  crime.  Dercyllidas  happily  arrived  at 
this  juncture.  AH  the  fortresses  of  jEolia,  either 
voluntarily  or  by  force,  surrendered  to  him,  and  Mi 
dias  was  deprived  of  the  possessions  he  had  so  un 
justly  acquired.  The  Lacedaemonian  general  having 
granted  Pharnabazus  a  truce,  took  up  his  winter 
quarters  in  Bilhynia,  to  avoid  being  chargeable  to  his 
allies. 

The  next  year,'  being  continued 
in  the  command,  he  crossed  over  A.  M.  3606 

into  Thrace,  and  arrived  in  the  Ant.  J.  C.  398 
Chersonesos.  He  knew  that  the 
deputies  of  the  country  had  been  at  Sparta,  to  re- 
present the  necessity  o'f  fortifying  the  isthmus  with  a 
good  wall,  against  the  frequent  incursions  of  the 
barbarians,  which  prevented  the  cultivation  of  the 
lands.  Having  measured  the  space,  which  is  more 
than  a  league  in  breadth,  he  distributed  the  work 
amongst  the  soldiers,  and  the.  w;dl  was  finished  in  the 
autumn  of  the  same  year.  Within  this  spare  were 
enclosed  eleven  cities,  several  ports,  a  great  num- 
ber  of  arable  lands,  and  plantations,  with  pas- 
tures of  aH  kinds.  The  wcrk  being  finished,  he  re- 
turned into  A'\a,  where  he  reviewed  the  cities,  and 
found  them  all  in  good  condition. 

Conon  the  Athenian,  <  after  losing  the  battle  of 
jEgospotamos,  having  condemned  himself  to  a  volun 


»  From  the  MysinnB  and  Pyiidiani 

»  Xcnoph.  i>.  4fc7,  488.  «  Plut.  in  Ai  ax.  p  103 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


305 


tary  banishment,  continued  in  the  isle  ofCyprus  with 
king  kvagoras.  nol  only  for  the  safety  of  his  person, 
but  also  in  expectation  of  a  change  of  affairs;  like 
one,  says  I  liitaich,  who  waits  ttie  return  of  the  tide 
before  he  embarks.  He  had  alwa»s  in  view  the 
re-establishment  of  the  Athenian  power,  to  which 
his  defeat  had  given  a  mortal  wound;  and  full  of  fi- 
delity and  zeal  Jor  his  ccuutry,  though  little  favoura- 
ble to  him,  jierpelually  meditated  the  means  of  rais- 
ing it  from  its  ruins,  "and  restoring  it  to  it*  ancient 
splendour. 

This  Athenian  general,  knowing  that,  in  order  to 
•ucceed  in  his-  vitws,  he  had  occasion  for  a  powerful 
support,  wri-te  to  Artaxerxes  to  explain  his  projects 
to  him,  and  ordered  the  pel  son  who  carried  his  It  t- 
ter  to  npplt  to  Ctesias,  who  would  give  it  into  the 
king's  own  hands.  It  was  accordingly  delivered  to 
that  plusician,  who,  it  is  said,  though  he  did  not  ap- 
prove the  contents  of  it.  added  to  wb.nl  Connn  hs'.i 
written,  "  that  he  dt*''rr:'.  tlie  king  would  send  Ctes'l- 
Bl  to  him,  being  a  person  very  capable  of  doing  him 
seniiv,  especially  in  maritime  aliairs."  Pharnaba- 
•us,1  in  concert  with  Conon,  was  gone  to  court  to 
complain  against  the  conduct  of  f  issaphernes,  as 
too  avtwedly  in  favour  of  the  Lacedaemonians.  At 
the  urgent  solicitations  of  Phaniabazus,  the  king 
ordered  500  talents*  to  be  paid  to  him  for  the  equip- 
ment of  a  Meet,  with  instructions  to  gi'-s  Conon  the 
command  ol  it.  He  sent  Cttsias  into  Greece,  who, 
after  having  visited  Cnidos,  his  native  country,  went 
to  Sparta. 

This  Ctesias  had  at  firs',  been  in  the  service  cf 
Cyru».s  whom  he  had  luiivweo  it;  his  expedition. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  i:s  the  battle  wherein  C»  rus 
was  killed,  and  was  made  use  of  tc  dress  the  wounds 
Artaxcrxes  had  received,  of '.vhich  he  acquitted  him- 
self so  well  that  the  Icing-  retained  him  in  his  service, 
and  made  him  his  first  physician.  He  passed  several 
year*  in  his  service  in  that  capacity.  Whilst  he  was 
there,  the  Greeks,  iii  all  their  busiiess  at  the  court, 
applied  themselves  to  him;  as  Conon  did  on  the  pre- 
sent occasion.  His  long  residence  it  Persia,  and  at 
the  court,  had  given  him  t-ie  necessary  time  and 
means  lor  his  information  in  the  history  of  the  coun- 
try, which  he  wrote  in  thrt-e-and-twi  ntv  books.  The 
first  six  contained  the  history  of  the  Assyrians  and 
Babylonians,  from  IS'inus  and  Sen  iramis  down  to 
•Cyrus.  The  other  seventeen  treated  of  the  Persian 
affairs  from  the  beginning  of  Cyrin's  reign  to  the 
third  year  of  the  95th  Olympiad,  which  agrees  with 
the  398th  year  before  JESUS  CHR.-ST.  "He  wrote 
aUo  »  history  of  India.  Photius  has  given  u«  several 
extract*  of  both  these  histories,  and  these  extracts 
are  nil  that  remain  of  the  works  of  Ctesias.  He  often 
contradicts  Herodotus,  and  diflers  sometimes  also 
from  Xenophon.  He  wai  not  much  esteemed  by  the 
ancient?,  who  speak  of  him  as  of  a  very  vain  man, 
whose  veracitv  is  not  to  be  relied  on,  and  who  has 
inserted  fables,  and  sometimes  even  lit  s,  in  his  history. 
TUsaphernes  and  Pharnabazus,* 
A.  M.  3607.  though  secretly  each  other's  ene- 

Ant.  J.  C.  397.  mies,  had  upon  the  king's  orders 
united  their  troops,  to  oppose  the 
enterprises  of  Dercvllidas,  who  had  marched  into 
C'aria.  They  had  reduced  him  to  post  himself  so 
disadvantagenuslv.  that  he  must  inevitably  have  per- 
Juried,  had  they  charged  him  immediately,  without 
giving  him  time  to  I  »ok  about  him.  Pharnahazus  wa« 
of  this  opinion:  but  Tissaphernes.  dreading  the  valour 
of  the  Greeks  who  had  followed  Cyrus,  which  he  had 
experienced,  and  whom  he  conceived  all  the  otheis 
re«ni'iled.  proposed  an  interview,  which  was  accept- 
ed. Derryllidas  having  demanded,  that  the  Grecian 
rities  should  continue  free,  and  Tissaphernes,  that 
the  army  and  generals  of  Lacedsemon  should  retire; 
tney  made  a  truce,  till  the  answer  of  their  respective 
masters  should  be  known. 


Whilst  these  things  wire  passing  in  Asia,8  th« 
Lacedaemonians  resulted  tc  chastise  the  insi.lt  ncc  of 
the  people  of  Eli-,  who,  not  content  with  having 
entered  into  an  alliance  with  their  enemies  in  the 
Peloponnesian  w:ir,  prevented  their  disputing  the 
prizes  in  the  Olympic  games.  Upon  pretence  of  the 
non-payment  ol  a  fine  by  Sparta,  they  had  intuited 
one  of  their  citiztns.  (luring  ihe  game.-,  and  hindered 
Agis  from  sacrificing  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Olym- 
pius.  That  king  was  charged  with  this  txpttiit,  :n, 
which  did  not  terminate  till  the  third  } ear  alter.  He 
could  have  taken  their  city  of  Olv  mpia,  which  had 
no  works,  but  contented  bimsell  with  |.lundt  img  the 
suburbs,  and  the  places  lor  the  exercists,  which  were 
very  line.  They  demanded  ptace,  which  was  grant- 
ed, and  were  suffered  to  retain  the  supcrtnli  ndencjr 
of  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ol\  mpius,  to  which  thty  had 
not  much  right,  but  were  more  \\oitiy  ol  that  honour 
than  those  who  disputed  it  with  (ht  in, 

Agis  on  his  return  fell  ,-ick,6  and  died  upon  arriving 
at  Sparta.  Almost  divine  honours  were  paid  to  his 
mtmory;  and  after  the  expiration  of  some  days, 
according  to  custom,  Leot\«  hides  and  Agesilaus,  one 
the  son  and  the  other  the  brother  of  the  deceased, 
disputed  the  crown.  The  latter  maintained,  that  hii 
competitor  was  not  the  son  of  Agis,  and  supported 
his  assertion  by  the  confession  of  the  quetn  herself, 
who  knew  best,  and  who  had  often,  »s  well  as  her 
hu.-band,  acknowledged  as  much.  In  fact,  tin  re  was 
a  cunt  nt  report,  that  she  had  him  by  Alcibi^des,7  as 
has  been  related  in  its  uUce.  and  thai  the  Athenian 
general  had  corrupted^ her  by  a  present  of  100(1  dar- 
icks.8  Agis  protested  the  contrary  at  his  death. 
Leotychides  having  thrown  him-eli'  nt  his  feel,  all 
bathed  in  tears,  be  could  not  refuse  the  favour  be 
ir,:plored  of  him,  and  owned  him  for  his  son  before 
all  that  were  prt-t  nt. 

Most  of  the  Spartans  charmed  with  the  v'rtue  and 
great  merit  of  Agesilaus,  and  deeming  it  an  extraor- 
dinary advantage  to  have  a  [.erson  for  their  king,  who 
had  been  educated  amongst  them,  and  had  p.i»t  ri 
like  them  through  all  the  rigour  of  the  Spartan  edu- 
cation, supported  him  with  their  whole  power.  An 
ancient  oracle,  that  advised  Sparta  to  beware  of  a 
lamt  reign,  was  urged  against  him.  Lysander  only 
made  a  jest  of  it,  and  turned  its  sense  against  Leoty- 
chides himself;  endeavouring  to  prove,  that  as  a  bas- 
tard, he  was  the  lame  king  *vhom  the  oracle  intended 
to  caution  them  against.  Agesilaus,  as  well  by  his 
own  great  qualities  as  the  powerful  support  ol  L\  san- 
der,  carried  it  against  his  nephew,  and  was  declared 
king. 

As  by  the  laws  the  kingdom  had  devolved  to  Agis, 
his  brother  Agesilaus,  who  seemed  to  be  destined  to 
pass  his  life  as  a  private  person,  had  been  educated 
like  other  children  in  the  Spartan  discipline,  which  as 
to  the  mode  of  life  wss  very  rough,  and  full  of  labori- 
ous exercise,  but  taught  youth  obedience  perfectly 
well.9  The  law  dispensed"  M-ith  this  education  onlj 
to  such  children  as  were  designed  for  the  throne. 
Agesilaus  therefore  had  this  peculiar  advantage,  that 
he  did  not  arrive  at  comm-uiding'  till  he  had  first 
learned  perfectly  well  how  ta  obey.  From  thence  it 
was,  that  of  all  the  kings  of  Sparta,  he  best  kne«v 
how  to  make  his  subjects  love  and  esteem  him,10  be 
cause  that  prince,  to  the  gn-at  qualities  with  \\l:ich 
nature  had  endowed  him  for  command  and  sovereign- 
ty, had  united  by  his  education  the  advantage  of 
being  humane  am!  popular. 

It  is  surprising  thnt  Spartn,  a  city  so  renowned  in 
point  of  education  and  p..licy,  «hould  have  conceited 
It  proper  to  abate  any  thingVf  its  severity  and  di«ci- 
pline  in  favour  of  the  princes  ivho  were  to  reign;  they 


i  Oiod.  I.  xiv.  p.  207      Justin.  1.  vi.  C.  1. 

*  500,000  rruwni.  or  about  H'2.000/.  sterling. 

8u»l..  I.  »iv.  p.65«.      Plut.  in   Artax.  p    1014—1017— 
iO20.     Hiixi.  I.  xiv.  |..  273.     Ari8t.de  Hint.  Anim.  I.  »iii.  e. 

V          PlM.t.    CcKl.    I.XII. 

•  \unopli.Huu.UrMc.l  iii.  p.  468, 400.    Diod.l.ziT.p.SG?. 


•  Xcnoiih.  Hiiri.Grcr.l.  iii.  p.  V.  2. 

•  Xenr>|ih.  |t.4'.a     I'lut.  in  Ly«.  p.  445.     In  A?e«il.  p.  5!>7. 
'  Alhen.  xii.  p.  .VM.  •  1000  pi*i<ilf«. 

•  Hence  it  wan,  lhal  the  piwl  Simonitle*  rall«-«l  S*p«rl»  tkt 
tamer  if  men,  ?»j»*o-,>ij!T:»,  n«  that  of  llie  (Jrerian  <-iue» 
wliirh    rnndrrMi    ii»   inhaliitaius   b»    pood    h«l»H»   ilm   nKUt 
active  anil  visuFou*.  and  at  Ihe  saiw  time  the  most  ol»"ilN-iii 
lo  ihe  lawt,  of  any:  .«  ^»»..«-T»  ?.i  T«.»  ii»»  iev<  xc.i'ia, 


2  r  2 


HISTORY  OF  THb 


having  most  need  of  being-  early  habituated  to  the 
joke  cf  obedience,  in  order  to  their  being  the  better 
qualified  to  command. 

Plutarch1  observes,  that  from  his  infancy  Agesilaus 
was  remarkable  for  uniting- qualities  in  himself,  which 
are  generally  incompatible;  a  vivacity  of  temper,  a 
vehemence,  a  resolution  invincible  in  appearance,  an 
ardent  passion  for  being  lirsl  and  surpassing  all  others 
with  a  gentleness,  submission,  and  docility  that  com- 
plied at  a  single  word,  and  made  him  infinitely  sensible 
of  the  slightest  reprimand,  so  that  every  thing  might 
be  obtained  of  him  from  the  motives  of  honour,  but 
nothing  by  fear  or  violence. 

He  was  lame,  but  that  defect  was  covered  by  the 
gracefulness  of  his  person,  and  still  more  by  the  gay- 
ttv  with  which  he  supported  and  rallied  it  first  hitn- 
elf.  It  may  even  be  said,  that  this  infirmity  of  his 
body  set  his  valour  and  passion  for  gl*i-y  in  a  stronger 
light;  there  being  no  labour  nor  enterprise,  however 
difficult,  that  he  would  refuse  upon  account  of  that 
inconvenience. 

Praise,*  without  any  air  of  truth  and  sincerity,  was 
to  far  from  giving  him  pleasure,  that  it  offended  him, 
and  wa*  never  received  by  him  as  such,  but  when  it 
came  from  the  mouth  of  those,  who  upon  other  occa- 
lions  had  represented  his  failings  to  him  with  freedom. 
He  would  never  suffer  his  picture  to  be  drawn  during 
his  life,  and  even  when  dying  expressly  forbade  any 
image  to  be  made  of  him,  either  in  colours  or  relievo. 
His  reason  was,8  that  his  great  actions,  it  he  had  done 
any,  would  supply  the  place  %f  monuments;  without 
which,  all  the  statues  in  the  world  would  do  him  no 
manner  of  honour.  We  only  know,  that  he  was  of 
small  stature,  which  the  Spartans  did  not  like  in  their 
kings;  and  Theophrastus  affirms,  that  the  Ephori  laid 
a  fine  upon  their  king  Archidamus,  the  father  of  him 
we  speak  of,  for  having  espoused  a  very  little  woman: 
.for,  said  they,  she'll I  give  us  puppets  instead  of  kings* 

It  has  been  remarked,6  that  Agesilaus,  in  his  way 
of  living  with  the  Spartans,  behaved  better  with  re- 
gard to  his  enemies  than  his  friends;  for  he  never 
aid  the  least  wrong  to  the  former,  and  often  violated 
justice  in  favour  of  the  latter.  He  would  have  been 
ashamed  not  to  have  honoured  and  rewarded  his 
enemies,  when  their  actions  deserved  it;  and  was  not 
able  to  reprove,  his  friends  when  they  committed 
faults.  He  would  even  support  them  when  they  were 
in  the  wrong,6  and  upon  such  occasions  looked  upon 
the  leal  lor  justice  as  a  vain  pretence  to  cover  the 
refusal  of  serving  them.  And  in  proof  of  this,  a  short 
letter  is  cited,  written  by  him  to  a  judge  in  recom- 
mendation of  a  friend ;  the  words  are :  "  If  Niciaa  be 
not  guilty,  acquit  him  for  his  innocence;  if  he  be, 
acquit  him  for  my  sake;  but  however  it  be,  acquit 
him." 

It  is  understanding  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
friendship  very  ill,  to  be  capable  of  rendering  it  in 
this  manner  the  accomplice  of  crimes,  and  the  pro- 
tectress of  bad  actions.  The  fundamental  law  of 
friendship,  says  Cicero,  is  never  to  ask  of,  or  grant 
any  thing  to  friends  that  is  not  consistent  with  justice 
and  honour.  HCKC  prima  lex  in  amicitid  sanciatur; 
III  tuque  rngcmtis  res  ttirpes,  nee  faciamus  rogati.t 

Agesilaus  was  not  so  delicate  in  this  point,  at  least 
in  the  beginning,  and  omitted  no  occasion  of  grati- 
fying his  friends,  and  even  his  enemies.  By  this 
officious  and  obliging  conduct,  supported  by  his  ex- 
traordinary merit,  he  acquired  great  credit,  and 
almost  absolute  power  in  the  city,  which  ran  so  high 
a*  to  render  him  suspected  by  his  country.  The 
F.jihori.  to  prevent  its  effects,  and  give  a  check  to  his 
ambition,  laid  a  fine  upon  him;  alleging  as  their  sole 
reason,*  that  he  attached  the  hearts  of  the  citizens  to 
himself  alone,  which  were  the  right  of  the  republic, 
and  ought  not  to  be  possessed  but  in  common. 

When  he  was  declared  king,  he  was  put  in  posses- 
lion  of  the  whol«"  estate  of  his  brother  Agis,  of  which 


lion  or  the  whol«"  estate  of  his  brother  Agis,  of  which 
i  In  Ago«il.55»6.    •  Pint,  in  Moral,  p.  55.    ilbld.p.191. 

'• 'plut.'in  Agesil.  p.  598.  «  Ibid.  p.  603 

'  !).•  amicit.  n.  40. 
•  "Or.  rouf  noirovj  ro>jT«{,  IS'itvf   «T»T«« 


Leotychides  was  deprived  as  a  bastard.  But 
the  relations  of  that  prince,  on  the  title  of  his  mother 
Lampito,  were  all  very  poor,  though  persons  of  much 
worth,  he  divided  tlie  whole  inheritance  with  tliein, 
and  by  that  act  of  generosity  acquired  great  reputa- 
tion, and  the  good  will  of  all  the  world,  instead  of  the 
envy  and  hatred  which  he  might  have  drawn  upon 
himself  by  the  inheritance.  These  sort  of  sacrifice! 
are  glorious,  though  rare,  and  can  never  be  sutfu  ientlj 
esteemed. 

Never  was  king  of  Sparta  so  powerful  as  AgesI- 
laus;  and  it  was  only,  as  Xenophon  says,  by  obeying 
his  country  in  every  tiling,  that  he  acquired  so  great 
an  authority;  which  seems  a  kind  of  paradox,  thus 
explained  by  Plutarch.  The  greatest  power  waa 
vested  at  that  time  in  the  Ephori  and  senate.  The 
office  of  the  Ephori  subsisted  only  i.ne  year;  they 
were  instituted  to  limit  the  too  great  power  of  the 
king?,  and  to  serve  as  a  harrier  against  it,  as  we  have 
observed  elsewhere.  For  this  reason  the  kings  of 
Sparta,  from  their  earliest  establishment,  had  always 
retained  a  kind  of  hereditary  aversion  for  them,  and 
continually  opposed  their  measures.  Agesilaus  took 
a  quite  contrary  method.  Instead  of  being  perpetu- 
ally at  war  with  them,  and  clashing  upon  all  occasion! 
with  their  measures,  he  made  it  his  business  to  culti- 
vate their  good  opinion,  treated  them  always  with  the 
utmost  deference  and  regard,  never  entered  upon  the 
least  enterprise  without  having  first  communicated  to 
them,  and  upon  their  summons  quitted  every  thing, 
and  repaired  to  the  senate  with  the  utmost  prompti- 
tude and  resignation.  Whenever  he  sat  upon  hi* 
throne  to  administer  justice,  if  the  F.phori  entered, 
he  never  failed  to  rise  up  to  do  them  honour.  By 
all  these  instances  of  respect,  he  seemed  to  add  new 
dignity  to  their  office,  whilst  in  reality  he  augmented 
his  own  power,  without  its  being  observed,  and  added 
to  the  sovereignty  a  grandeur  by  so  ni'jch  the  more 
solid  and  permanent,  as  it  was  the  effect  of  the  peo« 
pie's  good  will  and  esteem  for  him.  The  greatest  ot 
the  Roman  emperors,  as  Augustus,  Trajan,  and  Mar- 
cus Antoninus,  were  convinced,  thai  the  utmost  a 
prince  could  do  to  honour  and  exalt  the  dignity  of 
the  principal  magistrates,  was  only  adding  to  Ins  owo 
powerand  strengthening  his  authority, which  neither 
should  nor  can  be  founded  in  any  thing  but  justice. 

Such  was  Agesilaus,  of  whom  much  will  be  said 
hereafter,  and  whose  character  it  was  therefore  neces- 
sary to  develope. 

SECTION  II.— AGESILAUS  SETS  OUT  FOR  ASIA 
LYSA.NDER  FALLS  OUT  WITH  HIM,  AND  RETURN! 
TO  SPARTA.  HIS  AMBITIOUS  DESIGNS  TO  ALTER 
THE  SUCCESSION  TO  THE  THRONE. 

AGESILAUS  had  scarce  ascended 
the   throne,9  when  accounts  came  A.  M.  3608. 

from  Asia  that  the  king  of  Persia  Ant.  J.  C.  396. 
was  fitting  put  a  great  fleet  in  Phoe- 
nicia, with  intent  to  deprive  the  Lacedaemonians  of 
the  empire  of  the  sea.  Conon's  letters,  seconded  by 
the  remonstrances  of  Pharnabazus,  who  had  in  con- 
cert represented  to  Artaxerxes  the  power  of  Sparta  a» 
formidable,  had  made  a  strong  impression  upon  thav 
prince.  From  that  time  he  nad  it  serioush'  in  hii 
thoughts  to  humble  that  proud  republic,  by  raising  up 
its  rival,  and  by  that  means  re-establishing  the  ancient 
balance  between  them,  which  could  alone  assure  hit 
safety,  by  keeping  them  perpetually  employed  against 
each  other,  and  thereby  prevented"  from  uniting  their 
forces  against  him. 

Lysander,  who  desired  to  be  sent  into  Asia,  in 
order  to  re-establish  his  creatures  and  friends  in  the 
government  of  the  cities,  from  which  Sparta  had  re- 
moved them,  strongly  inclined  Agesilaus  to  take  upon 
himself  the  charge  of  the  war,  and  to  anticipate  the 
barbarian  king,  by  attacking  him  at  a  great  distance 
from  Greece,  before  he  should  have  finished  his  nre 
parations.  The  republic  having  made  this  proposal  to 
him,  he  could  not  refuse  it,  and  charged  himself  with 
the  expedition  against  Artaxerxes,  upon  condition 


•  Xi-noph.  Hist.  Gr«ec.  1.  iii.  p.  495,  496.     Id.  de  Ageiii   P 
653.     Plut.  in  Agesil.  p  598.  and  in  Ly«ar. J.  p.  146. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


307 


-bat  thirty  Sjnrtai  captains  should  he  granted  him, 
to  assist  him  and  compose  his  council,  with  two  thou- 
sand new  citizens  to  be  chosen  out  of  the  helots  «  ho 
bad  been  lately  made  freemen,  and  six  thousand 
troops  of  the  alfies,  which  was  immediately  resolved. 
Lysander  WRS  placed  at  the  head  of  the  thirty  Spar- 
tons,  not  only  on  account  of  his  great  reputation,  and 
the  authority  he  had  acquired,  but  for  the  particular 
friendship  between  him  and  Agesilaus.  who  was  in- 
debted to  him  for  the  throne,  ns  well  as  for  the  honour 
which  had  been  lately  conferred  upon  him  of  being 
elected  generalissimo. 

The  glorious  return  of  the  Greeks  who  had  follow- 
ed Cyrus,  whom  the  whole  power  of  Persia  had  not 
been  able  to  prevent  from  retreating  into  their  own 
country,  had  inspired  all  Greece  with  a  wonderful 
confidence  in  her  own  strength,  and  a  supreme  con- 
tempt for  the  uarbarianii.  In  this  disposition  of  the 
public  mind,  the  Lacedaemonians  conceived  it  would 
be  a  reproach  to  them,  not  to  take  advantage  of  so 
favourable  a  conjuncture  for  delivering  the  Greeks  in 
Asia  from  their  subjection  to  those  barbarians,  and 
for  putting  an  end  to  the  outrages  and  violences*  with 
which  they  were  continually  oppressing  them.  They 
had  already  attempted  this  by  their  generals  Thim- 
bron  and  Uercyllidas;  but  all  their  endeavours  having 
hitherto  proved  ineffectual,  they  referred  the  conduct 
of  this  war  to  the  care  of  Agesilaus.  He  promised 
them  either  to  conclude  a  glorious  peace  with  the 
Fenians,  or  to  employ  them  so  effectually,  as  should 
leave  them  neither  leisure  nor  inclination  to  carry 
the  war  into  Greece.  The  king  had  great  views, 
and  thought  of  no  less  than  attacking  Artaxerxes  in 
Persia  itself. 

When  he  arrived  at  Ephesu?,1  Tissaphernes gent  to 
deniand  what  reason  had  induced  him  to  come  into 
Asia,  and  nhy  he  had  taken  up  arms.  He  replied, 
that  he  came  to  aid  the  Greeks  who  inhabited  there, 
and  to  re-establish  them  in  their  ancient  liberty.  The 
satrap  who  was  not  yet  prepared,  made  use  of  art 
in  the  place  of  force,  and  assured  him  that  hit  mas- 
ter would  give  the  Grecian  cities  of  Asia  their  liber- 
Cy.  provided  he  committed  no  acts  of  hostility  till 
the  return  of  the  couriers.  Agesilaus  agreed,  and 
the  truce  was  sworn  to  on  both  sides.  Tissapher- 
nes, who  laid  no  great  stress  upon  an  oath,  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  delay  to  assemble  troops  on  all 
tides.  The  Lacedemonian  general  was  apprised  of 
it,  but  however  kept  his  word;  being  convinced, 
that  in  affairs  of  state  the  breach  of  faith  can  have 
but  a  very  short  and  precarious  success;  whereas 
a  reputation  established  upon  inviolable  fidelity  in  the 
observance  of  engagements,  which  even  the  perfidy 
of  other  contracting  parties  has  not  power  to  alter, 
will  establish  a  credit  and  confidence  equally  useful 
and  glorious.  In  fact,  Xenophon  remark*,  tnat  this 
religious  observation  of  treaties  gained  him  the  uni- 
versal esteem  and  opinion  of  the  cities;  whilst  the 
contrary  conduct  of  Tissaphernes  entirely  lost  him 
their  fax  our. 

Agesilaus  made  use  of  this  inter- 

A.M.  3609.  val  in  acquiring  an  exact  knowl- 
Ant.  J.  C.  395.  ledge  of  the  state  of  the  cities, 
and  in  making  suitable  regulations. 
He  found  great  disorder  everywhere,  their  gov- 
ernment being  neither  democratical,  as  under  the 
Athenians,  nor  aristocratical,  as  Lysander  had  es- 
tablished it.  The  people  of  the  country  had  had  no 
communication  with  Agesilaus,2  nor  had  ever  known 
nim;  for  which  reason  they  made  no  court  to  him, 
conceiving,  that  he  had  the  title  of  general  for  form 
*ake  only,  and  that  the  whole  power  was  really  ves- 
ted in  Lysander.  As  no  governor  had  ever  done  so 
much  good  to  his  friends  or  hurt  to  his  enemies,  it  is 
not  wonderful  that  he  was  so  much  beloved  by  the 
cue  and  feared  by  the  other.  All  therefore  "were 
rager  to  pay  their  homage  to  him,  were  every  day 
,n  crowds  at  his  door,  and  made  his  train  very  nu- 
tierons  when  he  went  abroad;  whilst  Agesilaus  re- 
mained almost  alone.  Such  a  conduct  could  not  fail 

•  Xr-noph.  p.  496  and  052. 

•  Plut.  ir  Afetil.  p.  599,  600.    ID  Lytand.  p.  446,  447. 


of  offending  a  general  and  king  extreim  ly  tensibU 
and  delicate  in  what  regarded  his  authority,  though 
otherwise  not  jealous  of  any  one's  merit,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  much  inclined  to  distinguish  it  with  his  fa- 
vour. He  did  not  dissemble  his  disgust.  He  no  longer 
paid  regard  to  L} sender's  recommendation*,  i.no 
ceased  to  employ  him  himself.  Lvsander  pn->ntlv 
perceived  this  alteration  towards  him.  He  discon- 
tinued his  applications  for  his  friends  to  the  king, 
desired  them  not  to  yisit  him  any  more,  nor  attach 
themselves  to  him,  but  to  address  "them*elvs.s  directly 
to  the  king,  and  to  cultivate  the  favour  of  those 
who  in  the  present  times  had  power  to  serve  and 
advance  their  creatures.  The  greatest  part  of  thun 
gave  over  importuning  him  with  their  affairs,  but 
did  not  ceaie  to  pay  their  court  to  him.  On  the 
contrary,  they  were  only  more  assiduous  than  ever 
about  his  person,  attended  him  in  throngs  whin  he 
took  the  air  abroad,  and  regularly  assisted  at  all  his 
exercises.  Lysander,  naturally  vain,  and  long  accus- 
tomed to  the  homage  and  submission  that  attended 
on  absolute  power,  did  not  take  sufficient  care  to 
remove  the  busy  crowd  from  his  person,  that  contin- 
ually made  their  addresses  to  him  with  more  applica- 
tion than  ever. 

This  ridiculous  affectation  of  authority  and  gran- 
deur grew  still  more  and  more  offensive  to  Agesi- 
laus, and  seemed  as  if  intended  to  insult  him.  He 
resented  it  so  highly,  that  having  given  the  most 
considerable  commands  and  best  governments  to 
private  officers,  he  appointed  Lysander  commissary 
of  the  stores,  and  distributor  of  provisions;  and 
afterwards,  to  insult  and  deride  the  lonians,  he  told 
them,  thai  they  might  now  go  and  consul!  hit  muster- 
butcher. 

Lysander  then  thought  it  incumbent  upon  him  to 
speak,  and  to  come  to  an  explanation  with  him. 
Their  conversation  was  brief  and  laconic. — "  Cer- 
tainly, my  lord,"  said  Lysander,  "you  know  very 
well  how  to  depress  your  friends.*' — "  Yes,  when 
they  would  set  themselves  above  me;  but  when 
they  study  to  exalt  my  dignity,  I  know  also  how  to 
let  them  share  in  it." — "  But  perhaps,  my  lord," 
replied  Lysander,  "  I  have  been  injured  by  fals« 
repoits,  and  things  I  never  did  have  nave  bun  im- 
puted to  me.  I  must  beg,  therefore,  if  it  be  only 
on  account  of  the  strangers,  who  have  all  of  them 
their  eyes  upon  us,  that  you  would  give  me  an  em- 

{iloyment  in  your  army,  wherein  you  shall  think  me 
east  capable  of  displeasing,  and  most  of  sen-ing  you 
effectually." 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was,  that  Agesi 
laus  gave  him  the  lieutenancy  of  the  Hellespont 
In  this  employment  he  retained  all  his  resentment, 
without  however  neglecting  any  part  of  his  duty, 
or  omitting  any  step  that  might  conduce  to  the  suc- 
cess of  affairs.  Some  short  time  after  he  returned 
to  Sparta,  without  any  marks  of  honour  or  distinc- 
tion, extremely  incensed  against  Agesilaus,  and 
trusting  to  make  him  feel  his  resentment  very  sen- 
sibly. 

It  must  be  allowed  that  Lysander's  conduct,  ns  we 
have  here  represented  it,  denotes  a  vanity  and  nar» 
rowness  of  mind  on  his  side,  highly  unworthy  of 
his  reputation.  Perhaps  Agesilaus  carried  too  far 
his  sensibility  and  delicacy  on  the  point  of  honour, 
and  was  a  little  too  severe  upon  a  friend  and  bene- 
factor, whom  a  secret  reprimand,  attended  with 
frankness  and  expressions  of  kindness,  might  hare 
reclaimed  to  his  duty.  But,  brilliant  as  Lysander's 
merit,  and  considerable  as  the  services  he  nad  ren- 
dered Agesilaiis,  might  be,  they  could  not  all  of  them 
give  him  a  right,  not  only  to  an  equality  with  hit 
king  and  general,  but  to  the  superiority  he  af- 
fected, which  in  some  measure  tended  to  make  the 
other  insignificant.  He  ought  to  have  remember- 
ed, that  it  is  never  allowable  for  an  inferior  to  for- 
get himself,  and  to  exceed  the  bounds  of  a  just 
subordination. 

Upon  his  return  to  Sparta1  he  had  it  seriously  in 
his  thoughts  to  execute  a  project  which  he  had 

•  Plut.  in  Lyiand.  p.  447,  448     DkxL  1.  xiv  p.  344,  244 


308 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


many  years  revolved  in  his  mind.  Al  Sparta  there 
were  only  two  families,  or  rather  branches,  of  the 
posterity  of  Hercules,  who  hadta  right  to  the  throne. 
When  Lysander  had  attf.ined  to  that  high  degree  of 

Cower  which  his  great  actions  had  acquired  him,  he 
egan  to  see  with  pain  a  city,  whose  glory  had  been 
so  much  augmented  by  his  exploits,  under  the  go- 
vernment of  princes  to  trhora  he  was  inferior  neither 
in  valour  nor  oirth;  for  he  was  descended,  as  well  as 
themselves,  from  Herc.iles.  He  therefore  sought 
means  to  deprive  those  t.vo  houses  of  the  sole  suc- 
cession to  the  crown,  and  to  extend  that  right  to  all 
the  other  branches  of  xhe  Heraclidte,  and  even, 
according  to  some,  to  all  ihe  natives  of  Spiirta;  flat- 
tering himself,  that  if  his  design  took  etfett,  no 
Spart.in  could  be  capable  of  disputing  that  honou" 
with  him,  and  that  be  should  have  the  preference 
over  all  other*. 

This  ambitious  project  of  Lysander  shows,  that  the 
greatest  captains  are  often  those  from  whom  a  repub- 
lic has  most  to  apprehend.  Those  haughty,  valiant 
spirits,  ac.customed  to  absolute  power  in  armies,  bring 
back  with  victory  a  daring  loftiness  of  mind,  always 
to  be  dreaded  in  a  free  state.  Sparta,  in  giving  Ly- 
sander unlimited  power,  and  leaving  it  for  so  many 
years  in  his  hands,  did  not  sufficiently  consider,  that 
nothing  is  more  dangerous  than  to  confide  to  per- 
sons of  superior  merit  and  abilities  employments 
which  confer  supreme  authority,  which  naturally  ex- 
poses them  to  the  temptation  of  rendering  themselves 
independent,  and  retaining  in  their  own  hands  abso- 
lute power.  Lvsander  was  not  proof  against  it,  and 
practised  secretly  to  open  himself  a  way  to  the 
throne. 

The  undertaking  was  hold,  and  required  lo»g  pre- 
parations. He  thought  it  impossible  to  succeed  with- 
out he  could  first,  through  fear  of  the  divinity  and 
the  terrors  of  superstition,  amaze  and  subdue  the 
citizens  into  a  more  easy  disposition  to  receive  what 
he  wanted  to  have  them  understand;  for  he  knew 
that  at  Sparta,  as  well  as  throughout  all  Greece, 
nothing  of  the  least  importance  was  determined, 
without  the  oracles  being  previously  consulted.  He 
strove  by  great  presents  to  influence  the  priests  and 
priestesses  of  Delphi,  Dodona,  and  Aiumon,  though 
ineffectually  at  that  time;  and  the  latter  even  sent 
ambassadors  to  Sparta,  to  accuse  him  of  impiety  and 
sacrilege;  but  he  extricated  himself  from  that  diffi- 
culty by  his  credit  and  address. 

It  was  necessary  to  set  other  engines  at  work.  A 
wonr.m  in  the  kingdom  of  Pontus,  affirming  tha4  she 
was  with  child  by  Apollo,  had  been  delivered  some 
years  before  of  a  son,  to  whom  the  name  of  Silenus 
wag  •given,  and  the  greatest  per<r>n3  of  that  nation  had 
contended  with  eagerness  for  tne  honour  of  nursing 
and  educating  him.  Lysander,  taking  this  wondrous 
nirtii  for  the  commencement,  and  in  a  manner  the 
groundwork,  of  the  plot  he  was  meditating,  supplied 
the  rest  himself,  by  employing  a  good  number  of 
persons,  and  those  of  no  inconsiderable  station,  to 
spread  abroad,  by  way  of  prologue  to  the  piece,  the 
miraculous  birth  of  this  infant;  and,  as  thev  did  this 
without  the  appearance  of  any  allectation,  people 
were  disposed  to  believe  it.  This  being  done,  they 
Drought  certain  rumours  from  Delphi  to  Sparta,  which 
were,  industriously  spread  abroad  every  where,  that 
the  priests  of  the  temple  had  in  their  custody  some 
books  of  very  ancient  oracles,  which  they  kept  con- 
cealed from  all  the  world,  and  of  which  it  was  not 
permitted,  either  for  them  or  any  other  persons  what- 
soever to  have  any  knowledge;  and  that  only  a  son 
of  Apollo,  who  was  to  come  in  process  of  time,  after 
having  given  undoubted  proofs  of  his  birth  to  those 
who  had  the  books  in  their  keeping,  was  to  take  and 
rarrv  thun  away. 

All  thi«  beiiigwell  arranged,  Silenus  was  to  present 
timis.  It' to  the  priests,  and  to  demand  those  oracles  as 
ihe  «on  of  Apollo;  and  the  priests,  who  were  in  the 
•  erret,  as  actors  well  prepared  and  fully  instructed  in 
their  part*,  were  on  their  side  to  make  the  most  exart 
and  circumstantial  inquiry  into  every  thing,  not 
without  affecting  great  difficulty,  and  asking  endless 
r  the  full  proof  of  his  birth.  At  length,  as 


absolutely  convinced  that  this  Silenus  was  the  red 
son  of  Apollo,  they  were  to  produce  the  books,  and 
deliver  them  to  him;  alter  which,  this  son  of  Apollo 
was  to  read  the  prophecies  contained  in  them,  in  tlie 
presence  of  all  the  world;  and  particularly  that  for 
which  the  whole  contrivance  had  been  fabricated. 
The  purport  of  lhi.«  prediction  was,  "  That  it  was 
more  expedient  and  advantageous  for  the  Spartans 
to  elect  no  king  for  the  future,  but  the  most  \\oithy 
of  their  citizens."  Lysander  in  consequence  was  to 
mount  the  tribunal,  to  harangue  the  citizens  and 
induce  them  to  make  this  alteration.  C't-on  of  Hali- 
(.arnassus,  a  celebrated  rhetorician,  had  composed  a 
very  eloquent  discourse  for  him  upon  the  subject 
which  he  had  got  by  heart. 

Silenus,  when  grown  up,  having  repaired  to  (Jreec* 
in  order  to  play  his  part,  Lysander  had  the  inortifica- 
Cion  to  see  his  piece  miscarry,  by  the  timidity  and 
desertion  of  one  of  his  principal  actors,  who  broke  hi* 
word,  and  disappeared  at  the  very  instant  it  was  to 
have  St  en  performed.  Though  this  intrigue  had  been 
carried  on  a  great  while,  it  was  transacted  with  so 
much  seorecy  to  the  very  time  that  it  was  to  have 
made  iis  &;>pearance,  that  nothing  of  it  was,  kiu.wn 
during  ti:e  life  of  Lysander.  How  it  came  to  light 
after  his  death  <ve  shall  soon  relate,  but  must  at  pre- 
sent return  to  Ti^saphernes. 

SECTION  III.— EXPEDITION  OF  AOESIT.AUS  IN 
ASIA.  DISGRACE  AM>  DEATH  OF  TISSAPHKRNF.S. 
SPARTA  GIVES  AGKS>'.AVS  THE  COM  MAM)  (  K  ITS 
ARMIES  BY  SEA  AND  IAND.  HE  DEPUTES  IM SAN- 
DER TO  COMMAND  THL  FLEET.  INTERVIEW  OF 
AGESILAL'S  AND  PilAKNAL'AXUS. 

WHEN  Tissaphernes1  had  received  the  troops  sent 
to  him  by  the  king,  and  drh-vn  together  all  his  forces, 
he  sent  to  command  Agisilvis  \,i  retire  out  of  Asia, 
and  declared  war  against  him  ii?  case  of  refusal.  His 
officers  were  all  alarmed,  not  beli"vin»  him  in  a  con- 
dition to  oppose  the  great  army  of  the  I'er-ian  king. 
For  himself,  he  heard  Tissapiieri.^s's  beraJrii  uitli  a 
gay  and  easy  countenance,  and  bad.?  ti:em  te.l  t'ltir 
master,  that  he  was  under  a  vc-y  ^real  oblig^ti^n  to 
him  "  for  having  made  the  gods,  by  his  pe,juiy,  the 
enemies  of  Persia  and  the  friends  of  Grt«;cc."  lie 
promised  himself  great  thing?  from  this  expedition, 
and  would  have  thought  it  an  exceeding-  (i!«grac  >  (o, 
him,  that  10,000  Greeks,  under  the  command  ofXen- 
ophon,  should  have  passed  through  the  lit  art  of  Asik 
to  the  Grecian  sea,  and  beaten  the  king  of  Persia  a^ 
often  as  he  appeared  against  them;  and  that  he  \\hc 
commanded  the  Lacedieuionians,  whose  empire  ex- 
tended all  over  Greece  by  sea  and  land,  should  not 
execute  some  brilliant  exploit  worthy  of  remem- 
brance. 

At  first,  therefore,  to  take  vengeance  of  the  perfidy 
of  Tissaphernes  by  a  just  and  allowable  deceit,  he 
made  a  feint  of  marching  his  army  into  Caria.  the  re- 
sidence of  that  satrap;  and  as  soon  as  the  barbarian 
had  caused  all  his  troops  to  march  that  way,  he 
turned  short,  and  fell  upon  Phrygia,  where  he  took 
many  towns,  and  amassed  immense  treasures,  which 
he  distributed  amongst  the  officers  and  soldiers:  let- 
ting his  friends  see,  says  Plutarch,  that  to  break  a 
treaty  and  violate  an  oath,  is  to  despise  the  gods 
themselves;  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  to  deceive  an 
enemy  by  the  stratagems  of  war,  is  not  only  just  and 
glorious,  but  a  sensible  delight  attended  with  the 
greatest  advantages. 

The  spring  being  come,  he  assembled  all  his  forceg 
at  F.phesus;  and  to  exercise  his  soldiers,  he  proposed 
prizes  both  for  the  horse  and  foot.  This  small  in- 
ducement set  every  thing  in  motion.  The  place  for 
exercises  was  perpetually  full  of  all  kinds  of  troops, 
and  the  city  of  Kphesus  seemed  only  a  palsestr*.  Mnd 
a  school  of  war.  The  whole  market-place  wa«  tilled 
with  horses  and  arms,  and  the  shops  with  different 
kinds  of  military  equipages.  Agesdaus  was  seen 
returning  from  the  exercises,  followed  by  a  crnwd 
of  officers  and  soldiers,  all  of  them  crowned  with 


Agosll 


•  Xpnoph.  Hist.  Grirc.  I.  iii.  p.  4H7— 2/2.    Uum.  dc 
p.  63&-050.     i'lul.  in  Ajusil.  p.  000, 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


S09 


nraths,  which  they  were  going  to  deposit  in  the 
Itiiple  of  Piaua,  to  the  great  admiration  and  delight 
of  every  oi'-e.  For,  says  Xenop'hon,  where  piety  and 
discipline  ure  seen  to  flourish,  the  best  hopes  must  be 
conceived. 

To  give  his  soldiers  new  valour  by  inspiring  them 
•vilh  conteiiipt  for  their  enemies,  he  made  use  of  this 
iontrivant ;.  He  one  day  ordered  the  commissaries, 
who  had  charge  of  the  boot}1,  to  strip  the  prisoners 
and  expose  them  to  sale.  There  were  abundance 
who  were  ready  to  buy  their  habits;  but  as  to  the 
prisoners,  iheir  bodies  were  so  soft,  white,  and  deli- 
rate,  havii  g-  been  nurtured  and  brought  up  in  the 
shade,  tha4  they  laughed  at  them,  as  of  neither  ser- 
vice nor  v.ilue.  Agesilaus  took  this  occasion  to  ap- 
proach am]  my  to  his  soldiers,  pointing  to  the  men, 
See  IhcreA^t'.inst  whom  ymi^fig-ht;  and  showing  them 
their  rich  £|-.cils,  and  there  for  what  you  Jight. 

\N  In  ii  the  season  for  Inking  the  field  returned, 
Agesilaus  gave  out  that  he  would  march  into  Lydia. 
Tissaphernes,  who  had  not  forgotten  the  first  strata- 
gem he  had  used  in  regard  to  him,  and  was  not  will- 
ing to  be  deceived  a  second  time,  made  his  troops 
march  directly  for  Caria;  not  doubting  but  at  this 
time  Agcsilaus  would  turn  his  arms  that  way;  the 
rather  because  it  was  natural  for  him,  as  he  wanted 
cavalry,  to  endeavour  to  make  a  rough  and  difficult 
country  the  seat  of  action,  which  might  render  the 
horse  of  an  enemy  useless  and  unserviceable.  But 
he  deceived  himself:  Agesilaus  entered  Lydia,  and 
approached  Sardis.  Tissaphernes  hastened  thither 
with  his  horse,  with  intent  to  relieve  the  place. 
Agesilaus,  knowing  that  his  infantry  could  not  yet 
have  had  time  to  arrive,  thought  proper  to  take  the 
advantage  of  so  favourable  an  opportunity  to  give 
him  battle  before  he  had  re-assembled  all  his  troops. 
He  drew  up  his  army  in  two  lines;  the  first  he  formed 
of  his  squadrons,  whose  intervals  he  filled  up  with 
platoons  of  the  light-armed  foot,  and  ordered  them  to 
begin  the  charge;  whilst  he  followed  with  the  second 
line,  composed  of  his  heavy-armed  infantry.  The 
Barbarian* did  not  sustain  the  first  shock,  but  took  to 
their  heels  immediately.  The  Greeks  pursued  them, 
and  forced  their  camp,  where  they  made  a  great 
•  laughter,  and  a  still  greater  booty. 

After  this  battle1  the  troops  of  Agesilaus  were  at 
entire  liberty  to  plunder  and  ravage  the  whole  coun- 
try of  the  Great  King,  and  at  the  same  time  had  the 
satisfaction  to  »ee  that  prince  inflict  an  exemplary 
punishment  U|>on  Tissaphernes,  who  was  a  very 
wicked  man.  and  a  most  dangerous  enemy  of  the 
Greeks.  The  king  had  already  received  abundance 
of  complaints  against  his  conduct.*  Upon  this  occa- 
sion he  was  accused  of  treason,  as  not  having  done  his 
duty  in  the  battle.  Queen  Pan-satis,  always  actuated 
in  her  hatred  and  revenge  against  those  who  had  any 
•hare  in  the  death  of  her  snn  Cyrus,  did  not  a  little 
contribute  to  the  death  of  Tissapherne*.  by  aggravat- 
ing with  all  her  power  the  charges  against  him;  for 
she  had  been  entirely  restored  to  favour  by  the  king 
her  son. 

As  Tissaphernes  had  great  authority  in  Asia,  the 
king  was  afraid  to  attack  him  openly,  but  thought  it 
necessary  to  take  suitable  precautions,  in  order  to 
secure  so  powerful  an  officer,  who  might  prove  a 
dangerous  enemy.  He  charged  Tithraustes  with  that 
important  commission  and  gave  him  two  letters  at 
the  same  time.  The  first  was  for  Tissaphernes,  and 
contained  the  king's  orders  in  regard  to  the  war  with 
.ne  Greeks,  with  full  power  to  act  as  was  requisite. 
The  second  was  addressed  to  Ariseus,  governor  of 
(.an'ssu:  by  which  the  king  commanded  him  to  assist 
Tithraustes  with  his  advice  and  all  his  forces  in  seiz- 
itis;  Tissaphernes.  He  lost  no  time,  and  sent  to  desire 
1  issnphernes  would  come  to  him.  that  they  might 
Confer  together  upon  the  operations  of  the  ensuing 
campaign. — Tissaphernes,  who  suspected  nothing, 
went  to  him  with  only  a  guard  of  300  men.  Whilst 
he  was  in  a  bath,  without  sabre  or  other  arms,  he  was 


seized,  and  put  into  the  hands  of  Tithraustes,  who 
caused  his  head  to  be  struck  off,  and  sent  it  immedi- 
ately to  Persia.  The  king  gave  it  to  Parysatis — an 
agreeable  present  to  a  princess  of  her  violent  and  vin- 
dictive temper.  Though  this  conduct  of  Artaxerxri 
seems  little  worthy  of  a  king,  nobody  lamented  the 
death  of  that  satrap,  who  had  no  veneration  for  the 
gods,  nor  any  regard  for  men;  who  looked  upon  pro- 
bity and  honour  as  empty  names;  who  made  a  jest  of 
the  most  sacred  oaths,  and  believed  the  whole  ability 
and  policy  of  a  statesman  consisted  in  knowing  how 
to  deceive  others  by  hypocrisy,  fraud,  perfidy,  and 
perjury. 

Tithraustes  had  a  third  letter  from  the  king,  where- 
by he  was  appointed  to  command  the  armies  in  the 
room  of  Tissaphernes.  After  having  executed  hit 
commission,3  he  sent  great  presents  to  Agesilaus,  to 
induce  him  to  enter  more  readily  into  his  views  and 
interests;  and  ordered  him  to  be  told,  that  as  the 
cause  of  the  war  was  now  removed,  and  the  author 
of  all  these  commotions  put  to  death,  nothing  opposed 
an  accommodation;  that  the  Icing  of  Persia  consented 
that  the  cities  of  Asia  should  enjoy  their  liberty,  pay- 
ing him  the  customary  tribute,  provided  he  would 
withdraw  his  troops  and  return  into  Greece.  Agesi- 
lau-i  replied,  that  he  could  conclude  nothing  without 
the  orders  of  Sparta,  upon  whom  alone  depended  the 
peace;  that  as  for  him,  he  was  better  pleased  with 
enriching  his  soldiers  than  himself:  that  the  Greeks 
besides  thought  it  more  glorious  and  honourable  to 
take  spoils  from  their  enemies  than  to  accept  their 
presents.  However,  as  he  was  not  unwilling  to  give 
Tithraustes  the  satisfaction  of  removing  out  of  his 
province,  and  of  expressing  his  gratitude  to  him  for 
having  punished  the  common  enemy  of  the  Greeks 
he  marched  into  Phrygia,  which  was  the  province  of 
Pharnabazus.  Tithraustes  had  himself  proposed  that 
expedition  to  him,  and  paid  him  thirty  talents  for  the 
charges  of  his  journey. 

Upon  his  march,  he  received  a  letter  from  the 
magistrates  of  Sparta,  with  orders  to  take  upon  him 
the  command  of  the  naval  army,  and  liberty  to  depute 
whom  he  thought  fit  in  his  stead.  By  these  new 
powers  he  saw  himself  absolute  commander  of  all  the 
troops  of  that  state  in  Asia  both  by  sea  and  land. 
This  resolution  was  taken,  in  order  that  all  operations 
being  directed  by  one  and  the  same  head,  and  the  two 
armies  acting  in  concert,  the  plans  for  the  service 
might  be  executed  with  more  uniformity,  and  every 
thing  conspire  to  the  same  end.  Sparta  till  then  had 
never  conferred  this  honour  upon  any  of  her  generals, 
of  intrusting  to  him  at  the  same  time  the  command  of 
the  armies  by  sea  and  land.  So  that  ali  the  world 
agreed,  that  he  was  the  greatest  personage  of  his 
time,  and  best  sustained  the  high  reputation  he  en- 
joved.  But  he  was  a  man,  and  had  his  failings. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  establish  Pisander  his 
lieutenant  in  the  fleet;  in  which  he  seemed  to  have 
committed  a  considerable  fault;  because,  as  he  had 
about  him  many  older  and  more  experienced  cap- 
tains, vet  without  regard  to  the  service  of  the  public, 
to  do  honour  to  a  relation,  and  to  please  liis  wife,  who 
was  Pisander's  sister,  he  intrusted  him  with  the  com- 
mand of  the  fleet;  an  employment  much  above  his 
abilities,  though  he  was  not  without  his  merit. 

This  is  the  common  temptation  of  persons  in  power, 
who  believe  they  possess  it  only  for  themselves  and 
their  families,  as  if  the  advantage  of  relation  to  them 
was  a  sufficient  title  and  qualification  for  posts  which 
require  great  abilities.  They  do  not  reflect,  that  they 
not  only  expose  the  affairs  of  a  state  to  ruin  by  their 
private  views,  but  sacrifice  besides  the  interests  of 
their  own  glory,  which  cannot  be  maintained  but  by 
successes  which  it  were  inconsistent  to  expect  from 
instruments  so  ill  chosen. 

Agesilaus  continued  with  his  ar- 
my in  Phrygia,*  upon  the  lands  of  A.  M.  3R10 
Pharnabarus's   government,  where       Ant.  .'.  C.  394 
he  lived  in  abundance  of  all  things, 


i  Xonoph.  p.  501  and  C57.     Pint,  in  Artax.  p.  1022,  and 

UI    Al-rsll.   p.  C.OI. 

»  Diod.  I.  xiv.  p.  299.     Polyen.  Strittf.  1.  rii. 
VOL.  I.— 47 


>  Xcnoph.  Hint.  Qra?e.  I.  ili.  p.  501.     Plut.  in 
G01. 
«  Xenoph.  Hiit.  Grrc.  1.  iv.  p.  507— 310. 


370 

and  amassed  great  sami  of  money.  From  thence 
advancing  as  far  as  Paphlagonia,  he  made  an  alliance 
with  king  Cotys,  who  earnestly  desired  his  amity, 
from  the  sense  he  entertained  of  his  faith  in  the 
observance  of  treaties  and  his  other  virtues.  The 
tame  motive  had  already  induced  Spithridates,  one 
of  the  kind's  principal  officers,  to  quit  the  service  of 
Pharnabazus,  and  go  over  to  Agesilaus,  to  whom, 
lince  Ins  revolt,  he  had  rendered  great  service*;  for 
he.  had  a  great  body  of  troops,  and  was  very  brave. 
This  officer,  having  entered  Phrygia,  had  laid  waste 
the  whole  country  under  Pharnabazu»,  who  never 
dared  to  appear  in  the  field  against  him,  nor  even 
trust  himselt  to  his  fortresses;  but  carrying  away 
whatever  was  most  valuable  and  dear  to  him,  he  kept 
flying  continually  before  him  and  retired  from  one 
place  to  another,  changing  his  camp  every  day. 
Spithridates  at  length,  taking  with  him  some  Spartan 
troops,  with  Herippidas  (the  chief  of  the  new  coun- 
cil of  thirty  sent  by  the  republic  to  Agesilaus  the 
second  year,)  watched  him  one  day  so  closely,  and 
attacked  him  so  successfully,  that  he  made  himself 
master  of  his  camp,  and  of  all  the  rich  spoils  with 
which  it  abounded.  Herippidas,  injudiciously  seuiag 
himself  up  as  an  inexorable  comptroller,  was  for 
bringing  the  booty  that  had  been  secreted  to  an  ac- 
count; forced  even  the  soldiers  of  Spithridates  to 
restore  what  they  had  taken,  and  by  visiting  their 
tents  and  searching  them  with  an  unseasonable  exac- 
titude and  seventy,  affronted  Spithridates  to  such  a 
degree,  that  he  withdrew  directly  to  Sardis  with  his 
Paphlagonians. 

It  is  said,  that  in  this  whole  expedition  nothing  so 
•ensibly  affected  Agesilaus  as  the  retreat  of  Spithri- 
dates. For  besides  his  being  very  sorry  for  the  loss 
of  so  good  an  officer  and  so  good  troops,  he  appre- 
hended being  reproached  with  mean  and  sordid  ava- 
rice; a  vice  equally  dishonourable  to  himself  and  his 
toiintry,  and  the  slightest  suspicion  of  which  he  had 
taken  pains  to  avoid  during  his  whole  life.  He  did 
not  think  it  consistent  with  the  duty  of  his  office  to 
thut  his  eyes,  through  slothful  ease  and  indolence, 
against  alf  the  malversations  that  were  committed 
under  him;  but  he  knew,  at  the  same  time,  that  there 
is  an  exactitude  and  severity,  which,  by  being  carried 
too  far,  degenerates  into  minuteness  and  petulancy. 
«nd  which,  through  an  extreme  affectation  of  virtue, 
becomes  a  real  and  dangerous  vice. 

Some  time  after,  Pharnabazus,1  who  saw  his  whole 
•ountry  ravaged,  demanded  an  interview  with  Agesi- 
laus, which  was  ne^ociated  by  a  common  friend  of 
them  both.  Agesilaus  arrived  first  with  his  friends 
at  the  place  agreed  on;  and  while  waiting  for  Phar- 
nabazus,  sat  down  upon  the  turf  under  the  shade  of  a 
tree.  When  Pharnabazus  arrived,  his  people  spread 
skins  upon  the  ground  of  exceeding  softness  from 
the  length  of  their  hair,  with  rich  carpets  of  various 
colours,  and  magnificent  cushions.  But  when  he  saw 
Agesilaus  sitting  merely  upon  the  ground,  without 
any  preparation,  he  was  ashamed  of  his  effeminacy, 
and  sat  down  also  upon  the  grass.  On  this  occasion 
the  Persian  pride  was  seen  to  pay  homage  to  the 
Spartan  modesty  and  simplicity. 

After  reciprocal  salutations,  Pharnabazus  spoke  to 
this  effect:  That  he  had  served  the  Lacedaemonians 
in  the  Peloponnesian  war  to  the  utmost  of  his  power, 
fought  several  battles  for  them,  and  supported  their 
naval  army,  without  giving  any  room  to  reproach  him 
•with  fraud  or  treachery,  as  Tissaphernes  had  done; 
that  he  was  surprised  at  them  coming  to  attack  him 
in  his  government,  burning  the  towns,  cutting  dowo 
the  trees,  and  laying  waste  the  whole  country:  that 
if  it  was  the  custom  with  the  Greeks,  who  made  pro- 
fession of  honour  and  virtue,  to  treat  their  friends  and 
benefactors  in  surh  a  manner,  he  did  not  know  what 
they  might  mean  by  just  and  equitable.  These  com- 
plaints were  not  entirely  without  foundation,  and 
were  uttered  with  a  modest  but  pathetic  air  and  tone 
of  voice.  The  Spartans,  who  attended  Agesilaus,  not 
set  in?  how  they  could  be  answered,  cast  down  their 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


«  Xenoph.  Hist.  Gnec  1  ir.  p.  510,  511. 
p  602. 


Plut.  in  AgetiL 


eyes,  and  kept  a  profound  silence.  Agesilaus.  wru 
observed  it,  replied  almost  in  these  terms:  "  Lord 
Pharnabazus,  you  are  nut  ignorant  that  war  often 
arms  the  best  friends  against  each  other  fur  the  de- 
fence of  their  country.  Whilst  we  were  such  to  the 
king  your  master,  we  treated  him  as  a  friend;  but  a* 
we  are  now  become  his  ninnies,  we  make  open  war 
against  him,  as  it  is  just  we  should,  and  endeavour  to 
hurt  him  by  the  injuries  we  do  you.  However,  iron* 
the  instant  you  shall  think  fit  to  throw  oil"  the  igno- 
minious yoke  of  bondage,  and  prefer  being  called  the 
friend  and  ally  of  the  Greeks,  before  the  name  of  the 
king  of  Persia's  slave,  you  may  reckon  that  all  the 
troops  you  see  before  your  eyes,  our  anus,  our  ships, 
our  persons  to  the  last  man  of  us,  are  only  here  to 
defend  your  possessions,  and  secure  your  liberty, 
which  of  all  blessings  is  the  most  precious  and  de- 
sirable." 

Pharnabazus  answered,  that  if  the  king  sent  another 
general  in  his  place,  and  subjected  him  to  the  new 
comer,  he  should  very  willingly  accept  his  oiler;  that 
otherwise  he  would  not  depart  from  the  faith  he  had 
sworn  to  him,  nor  quit  his  service.  Agesilaus  thea 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  and  rising  with  him,  replied, 
"  Would  it  were  the  pleasure  of  the  goiis.  Lord 
Pharnabazus,  that  with  such  noble  sentiments,  you 
were  rather  our  friend  than  our  enemy!"  He  prom- 
ised to  withdraw  Koni  his  government  and  never  to 
return  into  it,  whilst  he  could  subsist  elsewhere. 

SECTION  JV.— LEAGUE  AGAINST  THE  LACEDJE 
MONIANS.  AGES1I.AUS,  RECALLED  BY  THE  EPHORI 
TO  DEFEND  HIS  COUNTRY,  OBEYS  DIRECTLY. 
LYSANDER'S  DEATH.  VICTORY  OF  THE  LACE- 
DJEMON1ANR  NEAR  NEMJEA.  THEIR  FLEKT  IS 
BEATEN  BY  CONON  OFF  CNIDOS.  BATTLE  GAINED 
BY  THE  LACEDEMONIANS  AT  CORON.EA. 

AGESILAUS8  had  been  two  years 

at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  had  A.  M.  3610. 

already  made  the  provinces  of  Up-  Ant.  J.  C.  394. 
per  Asia  tremble  at  his  name,  and 
resouitd  with  the  fame  of  his  great  wi«doni,  disinter- 
estedness, moderation,  intrepid  valour  in  the  greatest 
dangers,  and  invincible  patience  in  supporting  the 
rudest  fatigues.  Of  so  many  thousand  soldiers  under 
his  command,  not  one  was  worse  provided,  or  lay 
harder  than  himself.  He  was  so  indifferent  as  to  heat 
or  cold,  that  he  alone  seemed  formed  to  support  the 
most  rigorous  seasons,3  and  such  as  it  pleased  God 
to  send.  These  are  Plutarch's  express  words. 

The  most  agreeable  of  all  sights  to  the  Greeks 
settled  in  Asia,  was  to  see  the  lieutenants  of  the 
great  king,  his  satraps,  and  other  great  lords,  who 
were  formerly  so  haughty  and  morose,  soften  their 
note  in  the  presence  of  a  man,  imanly  clad,  and  at 
his  single  word,  however  short  and  laconic,  change 
their  language  and  conduct,  and  in  a  manner  trans- 
form themselves  into  different  creatures.  Deputies 
from  alj  parts  were  sent  by  the  people  to  form  alli- 
ances with  him,  and  his  arm}'  increased  every  day  by 
the  troops  of  the  barbarians  that  came  to  join  hiai. 

All  Asia  was  already  in  motion,  and  most  uf  the 
provinces  ready  to  revolt.  Agesilaus  had  alreadj 
restored  order  and  tranquillity  in  all  the  cities,  had  ' 
reinstated  them  in  the  posses-ion  of  their  liberty 
under  reasonable  modifications,  not  only  without 
shedding  of  blood,  but  without  even  banishing  a 
single  person.  Not  content  with  such  a  piv_ 
had  formed  the  design  of  attacking  the  king  of  Per* 
sia  in  the  heart  of  his  dominions,  to  put  him  in  fear 
for  his  own  person  and  the  tranquillity  he  enjoyed 
in  Ecbatana  and  Susa,  and  to  find  him  so  much  busi- 
ness as  should  make  it  impracticable  for  him  to  em- 
broil all  Greece  from  his  cabinet,  by  cc-'rrj-tmg  the 
orators  and  persons  of  greatest  authority  ii:  lU  cities 
with  his  presents. 

Tilhranstes,4  who  commanded  for  the  kirn/  "n  Asia, 


»  Plot,  in  Agesil.  p.  603,  604.     Xenoph.  in  Ag;*il  v  657 

•  'ilrx-if  fijrtf   in    xpia-ja.   rmif  (.*•  Siov    xi «,.  *,•!»•  l| 

6f»i(     *tS\l*.m(. 

*  Xenoph.  Hilt  Grttc  '  iii.  p.  502— 507.    Plat.  :n  I.jsanl 
p.  449—451 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


371 


swemg  the  tendency  of  Agesilaus's  designs,  and  de- 
siniig  to  prevent  their  effects,  had  sent  Timocrates 
of  Rhodes  into  Greece,  with  great  sums  of  money  to 
corrupt  the  principal  persons  in  the  cities,  and  by 
their  means  occasion  commotions  against  Sparta.  He 
knew  that  the  haughtiness  of  the  Lacedaemonians 
(for  all  their  generals  did  not  resemble  Agesilaus,) 
and  the  imperious  manner  with  which  they  treated 
their  neighbours  and  allies,  especially  since  they  con- 
sidered themselves  as  the  masters  of  Greece,  had 
universally  disgusted  the  people,  and  excited  a  jeal- 
ousy that  waited  only  an  occasion  to  break  out  against 
them.  This  severity  of  governing  had  a  natural  cause 
in  their  education.  Accustomed  from  their  infancy 
to  obey  without  delay  or  reply,  first  their  tutors,  and 
afterwards  their  magistrates,  they  exacted  a  like  sub- 
mission from  the  cities  dependent  upon  them,  were 
easily  incensed  by  the  least  opposition,  and  by  this 
punctilious  and  excessive  severity  rendered  them- 
selves insupportable. 

Tithrausles  therefore  did  not  find  it  difficult  to 
draw  off  the  allies  from  their  party.  Thebes,  Argos, 
Corinth,  entered  into  his  measures;  the  deputy  did  not 
go  to  Athens.  These  three  cities,  inllue need  by  those 
that  governed  them,  made  a  league  against  the  Lace- 
daemonians, who  or.  their  side  prepared  vigorously 
for  the  war.  The  Thebans  at  the  same  lime  sent 
deputies  to  the  Athenians,  to  implore  their  aid,  and 
to  induce  them  to  enter  into  the  alliance.  The 
deputies,  alter  having  slightly  passed  over  their 
ancient  uivi-ions,  insisted  strongly  upon  the  consid- 
erable service  they  had  rendered  Athens  in  refusing 
to  join  its  enemies  when  they  endeavoured  its  final 
destruction.  They  represented  to  them  the  favour- 
able opportunity  that  offered  for  reinstating  them- 
selves in  their  ancient  power,  and  for  depriving  the 
Lacedaemonians  of  the  empire  of  Greece;  that  all 
the  allies  of  Sparta,  either  without  or  within  Greece, 
were  weary  of  their  severe  and  unjust  way,  and 
waited  only  the  signal  to  revolt:  that  the  moment  the 
Athenians  should  declare  themselves,  all  the  cities 
would  rouse  up  at  the  sound  of  their  ar.ns;  and  that 
the  king  of  Persia,  who  had  sworn  the  ruin  of  Spar- 
ta, would  aid  them  with  all  his  forces  both  by  sea 
and  land. 

Thrasvbulus.  whom  the  Thebans  had  supplied 
with  arms  and  money,  when  he  undertook  the  re- 
establishment  of  the  Athenian  liberty,  seconded  their 
demand  with  great  vigour,  and  the  aid  was  unani- 
mously resolved.  The  Lacedemonians  on  their  side 
took  the  field  without  hiss  of  time,  and  entered  Pho- 
cis.  I.ysander  wrote  to  Pausanias,  who  commanded 
one  of  the  two  armies,  tn  give  him  notice  to  .march 
early  the  next  day  to  Haliarltis,  which  he 
to  besiege,  and  that  he  should  be  there  himstll  at 
sunrise.  The  letter  was  intercepted.  Lysander,  after 
having  waited  his  coming  up  a  great  while,  was 
obliged  to  engage,  and  was  killed  in  the  battle.  I'au- 
saoias  received  this  tad  news  on  his  way;  but.  how- 
ever, continued  his  march  to  Haliartus.  and  called  a 
council  of  war  to  consider  upon  a  second  battle.  He 
did  not  think  it  consist*  nt  with  prudence  to  hazard 
it,  and  contented  himself  wlh  making  a  truce,  tore- 
move  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the  for- 
mer fight.  Upon  his  return  to  Sparta,  he  was  cited 
to  give  an  account  of  his  conduct;  and,  refusing  to 
appear,  was  condemned  to  die.  Hut  he  avoided  the 
execution  of  that  sentence  by  flight,  and  retired  to 
Tfg-.pa,  where  he  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  un- 
der the  shelter  and  protection  of  Minerva,  to  whom 
he  had  rendered  himself  a  suppliant,  and  died  of  dis- 
ease. 

Lysander's  poverty  having  been  discovered  after 
bis  death,  did  great  honour  to  his  memory;  when  it 
was  known,  that  of  all  the  gold  and  riches  which 
had  passed  through  his  hands,  of  a  power  so  exten- 
sive as  his  had  been,  of  so  many  cities  under  his  gov- 
ernment, and  which  made  their  court  to  him;  in  a 
word,  of  that  kind  of  dominion  and  sovereignty  al- 
ways exercised  by  him,  he  had  made  no  manner  of 
advantage  for  the  advancement  and  enriching  of  his 
house. 

Some  dart  before  his  death  two  of  the  principal  j 


citizens  of  Sparta  had  contracted  themselves  tc  hit 
two  daughters;  but  when  they  knew  in  what  condi- 
tion he  had  It-It  his  affairs,  they  refused  to  many 
them.  The  republic  did  not  suffer  so  sordid  a  base* 
ness  to  go  unpunished,  nor  permit  Lysander'*  pover 
ty,  which  was  the  strongest  proof  of  his  justice  ana 
virtue,  to  b*  treated  as  an  obstacle  to  an  alliance 
into  his  family.  They  were  fined  in  a  great  sum 
publicly  disgraced,  and  exjxjsed  to  the  contempt  ol 
all  persons  of  honour.  For  at  Sparta  there  were 
penalties  established,  not  only  for  such  as  reiustd 
to  marry,  or  married  too  late,  but  also  for  those 
who  married  amiss:  and  those  especially  were  reck- 
oned of  this  number,  who,  instead  ol  forming  al- 
liances with  virtuous  families,  and  with  tin  ir  own 
relations,  had  no  motive  but  wealth  and  lucre  in 
marriage  : — an  admirable  law,  tending  to  perpet- 
uate probity  and  honour  in  families,  which  nn  im- 
pure mixture  of  blood  and  manners  seldom  fails  to  al- 
ter and  efface. 

It  must  be  owned,  that  a  generous  disinterested- 
ness in  the  midst  of  all  that  could  inllame  and 
gratify  the  lust  of  gain,  is  very  rare,  and  well  wor- 
thy of  admiration;  but  iu  L}»ander  it  was  attend- 
ed with  great  detects,  which  sullied  its  lustre.  With- 
out speaking  of  his  imprudence  in  introducing  gold 
and  silver  into  Sparta,  which  he  despised  himself, 
though  he  rendered  it  an  object  of  esteem  to  hu 
count  r\  men,  and  thereby  occasioned  their  ruin;  what 
opinion  can  we  have  of  a  man,  brave  indeed,  capa- 
ble of  conciliating  the  affection?,  skilful  in  affairs, 
and  of  great  ability  in  the  arts  of  government,  and 
what  is  commonly  called  politics,  but  who  regards 
probity  and  justice  as  nothing;  to  whom  falsehood, 
fraud  and  perfidy,  appear  legitimate  methods  tor 
the  attainment  of  his  ends:  who  does  not  fear, 
for  the  advancement  of  hi*  friends  and  the  augmen- 
ting the  number  of  hi*  creatures,  to  commit  the 
most  flagrant  injustice  and  oppressions,  and  is  not 
ashamed  to  profane  whatever  it  most  sacred  in  reli- 
gion, even  to  the  bribing  of  priests  and  lording  of 
oracles,  to  satiate  the  empty  ambition  of  being  equal 
to  a  king,  and  of  ascending  the  throne'? 

When  Agesilaus  was  upon  the  point  of  leading  his 
troops  into  Persia,1  the  Spartan  Epicydidas  arrived 
to  let  him  know  that  Sparta  was  threattned  with  a 
furious  war;  that  the  Ephori  recalled  him,  and  or- 
dered him  to  return  immediately  for  the  defence  of 
his  country.  Agegilau*  did  not  deliberate  a  moment,  , 

but  returned  this  answer  immediately  to  the  Fphori, 
which  Plutarch2  has  transmitted  to  us,  M  Agesilaus  to 
the  Ephori  greeting.  We  have  reduced  part  of  Asia, 
put  the  Barbarians  to  flight,  and  made  great  prepa- 
rations for  war  in  Ionia;  but  as  you  order  me  to  re- 
turn, I  am  not  far  behind  this  letter,  and  would  anti- 
cipate it  if  possible.  I  received  the  command  not  for 
myself,  but  my  country  and  its  allies.  I  know  that 
a  general  does  not  deserve,  or  really  fulfil,  the  duties 
ot  that  name,  but  when  he  suffers  himself  to  be  gui- 
ded by  the  laws  and  the  Ephori,  and  obeys  the  ma- 
gistrates." 

This  ready  obedience  of  Agesilaus  has  been  much 
admired  and  applauded,  and  not  without  reason 
Hannibal,  though  depressed  with  misfortunes,  and 
driven  almost  entirely  out  of  Italy,  obeyed  his  citi 
zens  with  great  reluctance,  when  they  recalled  him 
to  deliver  Carthage  from  the  dangers  that  threat 
ened  it.  Here  a  victorious  prince,  ready  to  enter 
the  enemies'  country,  and  to  attack  the  king  of  Per 
sia  even  upon  his  throne,  almost  assured  ot  the  suc- 
cess of  his  arum,  on  the  first  order  of  the  Ephori  re- 
nounces these  fluttering  hopes  and  most  exalted  ex- 
pectation*. He  demonstrates  the  truth  of  what  w»» 
said,  "  That  it  Sparta  the  laws  ruled  men,  and  not 
men  the  laws." 

On  his  departure  he  said,  "That  thirty  thousand 
of  the  king's  aichers  drove  him  out  of  Asia;"  alluding 
in  those  words  to  a  species  of  Persian  coin,  which  had 
on  one  side  the  figure  of  an  archer,  30,000  of  which' 


i  Xenoph.   Hitt.  Grec.  I.  iv.  p.  513.     Idem  in 
067.     Plut.  in  Ap-sil.  p.  603.604. 
•  Plut.  in  Apoph.  Laconic,  p.  211 


372 


HISTORY    OF  THE 


pieces  of  money  had  been  dis|>ersed  in  Greece  to  cor- 
rupt the  orators  and  persons  of  greatest  power  in  the 
cities. 

Agesilaus,1  on  quitting  Asia,  where  he  was  regret- 
ted as  the  common  lather  of  the  people,  appointed 
Euxenes  his  lieutenant,  and  gave  him  4000  men  for 
the  del'mce  of  the  country.  Xenophon  went  with 
him.  He  l.-ttat  Kphesus,  with  Megabyzus,  the  guar- 
dian of  Di  ma's  temple,  half  the  gold  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  his  expedition  in  Persia  with  Cyrus, to 
keep  it  for  him  in  tru«t,  and  in  case  of  death  to  con- 
secrate it  to  the  goddess. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Lacedaemonians  had  raised 
an  army,*  and  given  the  command  of  it  to  Aristode- 
nnjs,  guardian  to  king  Agesi|X)lis,  then  an  infant. 
Their  enemies  assembled  to  concert  the  operations 
of  the  war.  Timolaus  of  Corinth  said,  that  the 
Lacedaemonians  were  like  a  river  that  grew  larger 
in  proportion  as  it  was  more  distant  from  its  source; 
or  to  a  swarm  of  bees,  which  it  is  easy  to  burn  in 
their  hive,  but  which  disperse  themselves  a  great 
way,  when  they  flv  abroad,  and  become  formidable 
by  their  stings.  He  was  therefore  of  opinion,  that 
it  was  pro|>er  to  attack  them  in  their  capital;  which 
was  approved  and  resolved.  But  the  Lacedemoni- 
an? did  not  give  them  time.  They  took  the  field, 
and  found  the  enemy  near  Nemaea,  a  city  not  very 
remote  from  Corinth,  where  an  obstinate  battle  ensu- 
ed. The  Lacedaemonians  had  the  advantage,  which 
was  very  considerable.  Agesilaus  having  received 
thi>  news  at  Amphipolis,  as  he  was  hastening  to  the 
relief  of  his  country,  sent  it  directly  to  the  cities  of 
Asia  for  their  encouragement,  and  gave  them  hopes 
of  his  speedy  return,  if  the  success  of  affairs  would 
admit  it 

Wher.  the  approach  of  Agesilaus  was  known  at 
Sparta,3  the  Lacedaemonians  that  remained  in  the 
city,  to  do  him  honour  for  the  ready  obedience  he 
had  pnid  to  their  orders,  caused  proclamation  to  be 
made  by  sound  of  trumpet,  that  all  young  persons 
who  were  willing  to  aid  their  king,  might  come  and 
li-t  themselves  lor  that  purpose.  IVot  one  of  them 
failed  ti  enter  himself  immediately  with  the  utmost 
joy.  Bui  the  F.phori  chose  only  fifty  of  the  bravest 
and  most  robust  whom  they  sent  him,  and  desired 
that  he  would  enter  Boeotia  with  the  utmost  expedi- 
tion: which  he  did  accordingly. 

About  the  same  time  the  two  fleets  came  up  with 
each  other  near  Cnidos,4  a  city  of  Caria:  that  of  the 
Lacedaemonians  was  commanded  by  Pisander,  Age- 
silatis's  brother-in-law,  and  that  of  the  Persians  by 
Pharnahazus  and  Conon  the  Athenian.  The  latter, 
observing  that  the  king  of  Persia's  supplies  came 
•lowly,  and  occasioned  the  loss  of  many  favourable 
opportunities,  had  resolved  to  go  in  person  to  the 
court,  to  solicit  the  king's  assistance.  As  he  would 
not  prostrate  himself  before  him,  according  to  the 
IVr-ivin  custom,  he  could  not  explain  himself  but  by 
the  intervention  of  others.  He  represented  to  him, 
with  a  force  and  spirit  seldom  pardoned  in  those 
who  treat  with  princes,  that  it  was  equally  shame- 
ful and  astonishing,  that  his  ministers,  contrary  to 
his  intention,  should  sutler  his  affairs  to  be  disconcer- 
ted and  ruined  by  a  disgraceful  parsimony;  that  the 
richest  king  in  the  world  should  give  place  to  his 
enemies  in  the  very  point  in  which  he  was  so  in- 
finitely superior  to  them;  that  is,  in  riches;  and 
that,  for  wiinl  of  remitting  to  his  generals  the  sums 
hi«  service  required,  all  their  designs  were  ren- 
dered abortive.  These  remonstrances  were  free, 
but  just  and  solid.  The  kin?  received  them  per- 
fectly well,  and  showed,  by  his  example,  that  truth 
may  often  be  spoken  to  princes  with  success,  if 
courage  were  not  wanting,  (,'onon  obtained  all  he 
demanded,  and  the  king  made  him  admiral  of  his 
Heft. 

It  was  composed  of  more  than  fourscore  and  ten 


>  Xenuph.  Hist.  (>r*c.  1.  iv.  p.  513.  Xenoph.  de  Exped. 
Cyr.  I.  T.  p.  350. 

'»  XHIHI|I|I.  p.  514—517.  •  Plot,  in  Asriil.  p.  605. 

•  Xenoph.  Hi»>.  Grvo.l.  iv.  p.  518.  Oiod.  1.  zir.  o. 303. 
Juitiii.  i.  c.  2,  3. 


galleys;  that  of  the  enemy  was  somewhat  internir  >n 
number.  They  came  in  view  of  each  other  near  Cni- 
dos,  a  maritime  cit)  of  Asia  Minor.  Conon,  who  had 
in  some  measure  occasioned  ihe  taking  of  Athens  by 
the  loss  of  the  sea-fight  near  .£  gospotamos,  u<ed 
extraordinary  efforts  in  this  to  retrieve  his  misfor- 
tune, and  to  obliterate  bv  a  glorious  victory  the  dis- 
grace of  his  former  defeat.  He  had  this  at: vantage,! 
that  in  the  battle  he  was  going  to  fight,  the  Per-ianS 
would  be  at  the  whole  expense,  am)  bear  all  the  loss 
themselves;  whereas  the  entire  fruits  of  the  victory 
would  accrue  to  the  Athenians,  without  hazarding 
any  thinsf  of  their  own.  Pisander  had  also  strong 
motives  to  show  his  valour  upon  tl.is  occasion,  that 
he  might  not  degenerate  from  the  glory  of  his  bro 
ther-in-lnw,  and  justify  the  choice  he  had  nmde  in 
appointing  him  admiral.  In  fact,  he  behaved  with 
extreme  valour,  :md  had  at  first  some  advantage; 
but  the  battle  growing  warm,  and  the  allies  ol  Spar- 
ta betaking  themselves  lo  (light,  he  could  not  n  solve 
to  follow  them,  and  died  sword  in  hand.  Conon  took 
fifty  galleys,  and  the  rest  esca|>ed  to  Cnidos.  The 
consequence  of  this  victory  was  the  revolt  of  almost 
all  the  allies  of  Sparta;  several  of  whom  dt dared 
for  the  Athenians,  nnd  the  rest  resumed  their  ancient 
liberty.  Alter  thi-  b:Utle,  the  affairs  of  the  Lacedse- 
monia'ns  daily  declined.  All  their  actions  in  Asia 
were  no  more  than  feeble  efforts  of  an  expiring  pow- 
er, till  the  defeats  of  Leuctra  and  Maniinaea  comple- 
ted their  downfall. 

Isocrates  makes  a  very  just  reflection  upon  th« 
revolutions  of  Sparta  and  Athens,*  which  had  al- 
ways their  source  and  origin  in  the  insolent  prosper- 
ity of  both  these  republics.  The  Lacedaemonians, 
who  were  at  first  acknowledged  masters  ol  Greece 
without  opposition,  fell  from  their  authority  only  in 
consequence  of  their  enormous  abuse  ol  it.  The 
Athenians  succeeded  them  in  power,  and  HI  the  same 
time  in  pride;  and  we  have  seen  into  what  an  abyss 
of  misfortunes  it  precipitated  them.  Sparta,  h»\ing 
regained  the  superiority  hy  the  defeat  of  the  Athe 
niaos  in  Sicily  and  the  taking  of  their  city,  ousc'it  to 
have  improve'd  in  her  measures  from  the  double  ex- 
perience of  the  past;  as  well  in  regard  to  wliat  had 
befallen  herseh,  as  from  the  recent  example  of  her 
rival:  but  the  most  striking  examples  and  events 
seldom  or  never  occasion  a  people  to  change  their 
conduct.  Sparta  became  as  haughty  and  untrnctable 
as  before,  and  so  experienced  I  he  same  destiny  a^ain, 

To  warn  the  Athenians  against  this  misfortune, 
Isocrates  puts  them  in  mind  of  the  past,  while  he  ad- 
dresses them  at  a  time  wherein  thi-y  were  successful 
in  every  thing.  "  You  imagine,"  says  he,  "  that  as 
you  are  provided  with  a  numerous  fleet,  absolute 
masters  at  sea,  and  supported  by  powerful  allies  al- 
ways ready  to  give  you  aid,  you  have  nothing  to 
fear,  and  may  enjoy  "in  repose  and  tranquillity  the 
fruits  of  your  victories: — for  my  part,  suffer  me  to 
spenk  with  truth  and  freedom,  1  think  quite  other- 
wise. The  cause  of  my  apprehension  is,  my  having 
observed,  that  the  decline  of  the  greatest  republics 
has  always  commenced  at  the  time  they  believed 
themselves  most  powerful;  and  th.it  their  very  seeu- 
rity  has  prepared  the  precipice  from  which  they  have 
fallen.  The  reason  of  this  is  evident.  Prosperity  and 
adversity  never  come  alone,  but  have  each  their 
train  of  very  different  effects.  The  5rst  is  attend,  d 
with  vain-glory,  pride  and  insolence,  which  dazzle 
the  mind,  and  inspire  rash  and  extravagant  measures: 
on  the  contrary,  the  companions  of  adversity,  are 
modesty,  self-diffidence,  and  circumspection,  which 
naturally  render  men  prudent,  and  apt  to  derive  ad- 
vantage from  their  own  failings.  So  that  it  is  hard 
to  judge  which  of  the  two  conditions  we  ought  ti» 
desire  for  a  city;  as  that  which  ap|>ears  unhappy  is 
an  almost  certain  path  to  prosperity;  and  the  other, 
so  flattering  and  splendid,  grneraflv  leads  on  to  the 
greatest  misfortunes."  The  blow  which  the  Lacedee- 

•  Efl  pperiofiiiii  quM  ne  iponrum  quiclem   Athenien»iu» 
sed  nlioni  imperil  virilius  dimiret,  pugnaturu»  pcrk~ulo  ">glf 
virturus  prtemio  patriv.     Justin. 

•  Isorrat.  in  Oral.  Areop.  p.  27«— 280. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


373 


momans  received  at  the  battle  of  Cnidoi  is  a  mourn- 
<ul  proof  of  what  he  says. 

Agesilaus  was  in  Bceotia,  and  upon  the  point  of 
giving  battle,1  when  this  bad  news  was  brought  him. 
Apprehending  that  it  might  discourage  and  deter  his 
troop,  he  cached  it  to  be  reported  in  the  army  that 
tlie  Laceda-inoinans  had  gained  a  considerable  vic- 
tory at  sea:  and  appearing  in  public  with  a  wreath 
of  flowers  upon  his  head,  he  oliered  a  sacrifice^!" 
thank-giving  for  the  good  news,  and  sent  part  of  it 
in  present*  to  his  officers.  The  two  armies,*  almost 
equal  in  strength,  were  in  view  of  each  other  upon 
the  plains  of  Coronaea,  and  they  drew  up  in  battle. 
Age.-dius  gave  the  left  wing  to  the  Orchomenians, 
and  took  the  right  himself.  On  the  other  side,  the 
Thebans  were  upon  the  right,  and  the  Argives  on  the 
V-lt.  Xenophon  gays,  that  this  was  the  most  furious 
cattle  of  any  that  had  been  fought  in  his  time:  and 
we  may  believe  him,  as  he  was  present  in  it,  and 
fought  near  the  person  of  Agesilaus,  with  whom  he 
had  returned  from  A>i::. 

The  first  charge  was  not  very  obstinate,  nor  of  long 
continuance.  The  Thebans  soon  put  the  Orchome- 
nians  to  flight,  and  Agesilaus  overthrew  and  routed 
the  Argives.  But  both  parties,  having  learned  that 
their  left  wing  had  been  very  severely  handled  and 
had  lied,  returned  immediately;  Agesilaus  to  oppose 
the  Thebans  and  to  wrest  the  victory  out  of  their 
hands,  mid  the  Thebans  to  follow  their  left  wing  that 
was  retired  to  Helico;:.  Agesilaus  at  that  moment 
might  have  assured  himself  of  a  complete  victory,  if 
he  would  hare  let  the  Thebans  pa«s  on,  and  had  after- 
wards rhanjc-d  them  in  the  rear;  but  carried  away  by 
the  ardour  of  his  courage,  he  resolved  to  stop  them 
with  an  attack  in  front,  and  to  beat  them  by  pure 
force.  In  which,  says  Xenophon,  he  showed  more 
valour  than  prudence. 

The  Thebans,  seeing  Agesilaus  advance  against 
them,  drew  all  their  foot  immediately  into  one  body, 
formed  a  hollow  square,  and  waited  his  coming  up  in 
good  order.  The  engagement  was  sharp  and  bloody- 
on  all  side*,  hut  particularly  where  Agesilaus  fought 
•t  the  head  of  the  fifty  young  Spartans,  who  had  been 
sent  liim  by  the  city.  The  valour  and  emulation  of 
those  young  men  were  of  great  service  to  Agesilaus, 
and  m;iy  be  said  to  have  saved  his  life;  for  they  fought 
around  him  with  exceeding  ardour,  and  exposed 
themselves  foremost  in  all  dangers  for  the  safety  of 
hi«  person.  They  could  not  however  prevent  his 
receiving  several  wounds  through  his  armour  from 
pikes  and  swords.  Notwithstanding,  with  the  utmost 
ell'orts  they  brought  him  oh*' alive  Irom  the  enemy; 
and  making  their  bodies  a  rampart  for  him,  sacrificed 
a  :;:-.  :•!  number  of  Tin-bans  in  his  defence;  and  many 
ot  th<i-e  young  men  were  left  also  upon  the  field. 
At  lengtli,  finding  it  too  difficult  to  break  the  The- 
bans in  front,  they  were  forced  to  have  recourse  to 
what  they  had  at  first  rejected.  They  opened  their 
phalanx  to  let  them  pass;  which  when  they  had  done, 
at  they  marched  afterwards  in  more  disorder,  they 
charred  them  again  upon  the  flanks  and  rear.  They 
could,  however,  neither  break  them  nor  put  them  to 
flight.  Those  brave  Thebans  made  their  retreat  con- 
tinually fighting,  and  gained  Helicon,  elated  with  the 
if  the  battle,  wherein  on  their  side  they  had 
always  remained  invincible. 

AirrsiUns,  though  very  much  weakened  by  the  great 
number  of  hit  wounds,  and  the  quantity  of  blood  he 
had  lot,  would  not  retire  to  his  tent  till  he  had  been 
carried  to  the  place  where  his  phalanx  was  drawn 
up.  and  had  seen  all  the  dead  bodies  removed  even 
upon  their  own  arms.  He  was  informed  there,  that 
many  of  the  enrinv  had  taken  refuge  in  the  temple  of 
the  Itonian  Minerva,  which  was  not  very  distant  from 
the  fit-Id  of  battle,  and  asked  what  he  would  have 
done  with  them.  As  he  was  full  of  veneration  for 
the  gods,  he  gave  orders  to  let  them  pro,  and  even 
lent  them  a  guard  to  escort  them  in  safety  wherever 
they  thought  fit. 


i  Plut.  in  Agesil.  p.  (!05. 

«  Plut.  ibid.     Xenoph.  Hist.  Grec    u  518-330,  and  in 
/e«il.p.65'J.  «» 


The  next  morning,  Agesilaus,  t:  try  whether  th« 
Thebans  would  have  the  courage  to  renew  the  battle, 
commanded  his  troops  to  crown  themselves  with 
Mowers,  and  the  music  of  the  army  to  plav,  whilst  a 
trophy  was  erected  and  adorned  in  honour  of  hit 
victory.  At  the  game  instant  the  enemy  sent  lit  raids 
to  demand  his  permission  to  bury  their  dead;  which 
he  granted  with  a  truce;  and  having  confirmed  hit 
victory  bv^that  act  of  a  conqueror,  he  cau«ed  himself 
to  be  cameu  to  Delphi,  where  the  Pythian  games 
were  then  celebrated.  He  made  there  a  solemn  pio- 
cession,  wh.ch  was  followed  by  a  sacrifice,  and  conse- 
crated to  the  god  the  tenth  part  of  the  booty  taken  in 
Asia,  which  amounted  to  a  hundred  talents1  These 
great  men,  no  less  religious  than  brave,  never  failed 
to  express  by  presents  their  gratitude  to  the  gods  for 
their  successes  in  arms;  declaring,  by  that  public 
homage,  that  they  believed  themselves  indebted  to 
their  protection  lor  their  victories. 

SECTION  V.— AGESILACS  RETURNS  VICTORIOUS; 
TO  SPARTA.  HE  ALWAYS  RETAINS  HIS  SIMPLI- 
CITY AND  ANCIENT  MANNERS.  CONuN  REBUILDS, 
THE  WALLS  OF  ATHENS.  A  PEACE.  DISGRACE- 
FUL TO  THE  GREEKS,  CONCLUDED  BV  A.NTALC1- 
DAS,  THE  LACEDEMONIAN. 

AFTER  the  festival,*  Agesilaus  returned  to  Sparta. 
His  citizens  received  him  with  all  the  marks  of  the 
most  real  joy,  and  beheld  him  with  admiration,  wluu 
they  observed  the  simplicity  of  his  manners  and  the 
con-taut  frugality  and  temperance  of  bis  life.  At  his 
return  from  foreign  countries,  where  pomp,  luxury, 
sloth,  and  the  love  of  pleasures  prevailed,  he  was  not 
infected  with  the  manners  of  the  barbarians,  as  most 
of  the  other  generals  had  been:  he  made  no  altera- 
tion in  his  diet,  baths,  equipage  of  his  wife,  ornamenU 
of  his  arms,  or  furniture  of  Ins  house,  lo  the  midst 
of  so  brilliant  a  reputation,  and  the  universal  ap- 
plause, always  the  same,  or  rather  more  modest  than 
before,  he  distinguished  himself  from  the  rest  of  the 
citizens,  only  by  a  greater  submission  to  the  laws, 
and  a  more  inviolable  attachment  to  the  customs  of 
his  country;  convinced,  that  he  was  king,  only  to  be 
the  brighter  example  of  those  virtues  to  others. 

He  made  greatness  consist  in  virtue  only.5  Hear> 
ing  the  Great  King  (so  the  kings  of  Persia  used  to 
call  themselves)  spoken  of  in  magnificent  terms,  and 
his  power  extremely  extolled:  "I  cannot  conceive," 
said  he,  "wherein  he  is  greater  than  I,  unless  he  be 
more  virtuous."' 

There  were  at  Sparta  some  citizens,  who,  vitiated 
by  the  prevailing  taste  of  Greece,  made  their  merit 
and  glory  consist  in  keeping  a  great  number  of  horses 
for  the  race.  He  persuaded  his  sister  Cynisca  to 
dispute  the  prize  in  the  Olympic  games,  in  order  to 
show  the  Greeks  that  those  victories,  on  which  they 
set  so  high  a  value,  were  not  the  effects  of  valour  and 
bravery,  but  of  riches  and  expense.  She  was  the 
first  of  her  sex  who  shared  in  this  honour.  He  had 
not  the  same  opinion  of  the  exercises  which  contri- 
bute to  render  the  body  more  robust,  and  inure  it  to 
labour  and  fatigue:  and.  to  place  them  in  greater  es- 
timation, would  often  honour  them  with  his  presence. 

Some  time  after  Lysander's  death,  he  discovered 
the  conspiracy  formed  by  that  captain  against  the 
two  kings,  which  till  then  had  not  been  heard  of,  and 
came  to  light  by  a  kind  of  accident,  in  the  following 
manner:  Upon  some  aflairs,7  which  related  to  th« 
government,  it  was  necessary  to  consult  Lysander's 
papers,  and  Agesilaus  went  to  his  house  for  that  pur- 
pose. In  running  them  over,  he  fell  upon  the  sheets 
which  contained  at  large  the  harangue  of  Cleon, 
whirh  had  been  prepared  to  recommend  the  new 
method  of  proceeding  in  \h*.  election  of  kings.  Sur- 
prised at  perusing  it.  he  gave  over  his  search,  and 
went  away  abruptly  to  communicate  that  oration  to 
the  citizens,  and  to  let  them  see  what  manner  of  mun 
Lysander  was,  and  how  much  they  had  been  deceived 


•  One  hundred  thousand  crown*,  or  about  22,500/.  tlei 

•"Plut.  in  Agcsil.  p.  GOG.        «  Plut,  d«  »ui  lau-1.  p.  555 

•  T,'   *•  ^:u    A"'i.'--    <*"•>!,  ii   /"i    «-i    t'«-'»"f»«. 

'  Plot,  in  Agenil  p.  606. 


374 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


HI  regard  to  him.  But  Lacratidas,  a  wise  and  pru- 
dent person,  who  was  president  of  the  Kphori,  inter- 
posed, by  telling  him,  that  it  was  highly  improper  to 
raise  Lysander  from  the  dead:  on  the  contrary,  that 
it  was  necessary  to  bury  his  harangue  in  the  same 
grave  with  him,  as  B  production  o4  dangerous  ten- 
dency, from  the  great  art  with  which  it  was  composed, 
»nd  the  force  of  persuasion  that  universally  prevailed 
in  it,  which  it  might  prove  no  easy  matter  to  resist. 
Agesilaus  was  of  the  same  opinion;  and  the  piece  was 
consigned  to  silence  and  oblivion,  as  the  best  use  that 
could  be  made  of  it. 

As  his  credit  wai  very  high  in  the  city,1  he  caused 
Teleutias,  his  brother  by  the  mother's  side,  to  be 
declared  admiral  of  the  Heet.  It  were  to  be  wished, 
that  history,  to  justify  this  choice,  had  mentioned 
•ome  other  qualities  in  that  commander  than  his 
nearu?»<  of  ulood  to  the  king.  Agesilaus  soon  after 
set  out  with  his  land  army  to  besiege  Corinth,  and 
took  the  long  walls,  as  the)-  were  called,  whilst  his 
brother  Teleutias  attacked  it  by  sea.  He  did  several 
othtr  exploits  against  the  people  of  Greece  at  war 
with  Sparta,  which  always  indeed  evince  the  valour 
and  experience  of  the  general,  but  are  neither  very 
important  nor  decisive,  and  which  we  thought,  for 
that  reason,  might  be  omitted. 

At  the  same  time,2  Pharnabazus 
A.  M.  3611.  and  Conon.  having  made  them 
Ant.  J.  C.  393.  selves  masters  at  sea,  ravaged  the 
whole  coast  of  Laconia.  That  sa- 
trap, returning  to  his  government  of  Phrygia,  left 
Conon  the  command  of  the  naval  army,  with  very 
considerable  sums  for  the  re-establishment  of  Athens 
Conon,  victorious  and  crowned  with  glory,  repaired 
thither,  where  he  was  received  with  universal  ap- 
plause. The  sad  prospect  of  a  city,  formerly  so 
flourishing,  and  at  that  time  reduced  to  so  melan- 
choly a  condition,  gave  him  more  grief  than  he  felt 
jov  in  seeing'  his  beloved  country  again,  after  so  many 
years'  absence.  He  lost  no  time,  but  fell  immediately 
to  work,  employing,  besides  masons  and  the  usual 
artizans,  the  soldiers,  mariners,  citizens,  allies,  in  a 
word,  all  that  were  well  inclined  to  Athens:  Provi- 
dence decreeing,  that  this  city,  formerly  destroyed 
by  the  Persians,  should  be  rebuilt  by  their  own  hands; 
and  that  having  been  dismantled  and  demolished  by 
the  Lacedaemonians,  it  should  be  reinstated  at  their 
own  cost,  and  by  the  spoils  taken  from  them.  What 
a  vicissitude  and  alteration  was  this!  Athens  at  this 
time  had  those  for  its  allies,  who  had  formerly  been 
Its  most  violent  enemies;  and  for  enemies,  those  with 
whom  before  it  had  contracted  the  most  strict  and 
closest  union.  Conon,  seconded  by  the  leal  of  the 
Thebans,  soon  rebuilt  the  walls  of  Athens,  restored 
the  city  to  its  ancient  splendour,  and  rendered  it 
more  formidable  than  ever  to  its  enemies.  After 
having  offered  to  the  gods  a  whole  hecatomb,3  that  is 
to  say,  a  sacrifice  of  an  hundred  oxen,  as  a  thanks- 
giving for  the  happy  re-establishment  of  Alhens,  he 
made  a  feast,  to  which  all  the  citizens,  without  ex- 
ception, were  invited. 

Sparta  could  not  see  without  extreme  affliction  so 
glorious  a  revolution.*  It  looked  upon  the  grandeur 
and  power  of  a  city,  its  ancient  rival  and  almost  con- 
tinual enemy,  as  its  own  ruin.  This  made  the  Lace- 
daemonians take  the  mean  resolution  of  avenging 
themselves  at  once  upon  Athens,  and  Conon  its  re- 
storer, by  making  peace  with  the  king  of  Persia, 
With  this  view  they  despatched  Antalcidas  to  Tiri- 
bazus.  His  commission  consisted  of  two  principal 
articles.  The  first  was,  to  accuse  Conon  to  that 
•strap  of  having  defrauded  the  king  of  the  money 
which  he  had  employed  in  the  re-establishment  of 
Athens;  and  of  having  formed  the  design  of  depriving 
the  Persians  of  VEolia  and  Ionia,  in  order  to  subject 
them  anew  to  the  republic  of  Athens,  upon  which 
they  had  formerly  depended.  By  the  second,  he  had 


•  Pint,  in  Aec»il.  p.  (i07. 

»  X"imph.  Him.  GriBo.  1.  iv.  p.  534—537.  Diod.  I.  xi».  p. 
»3.  Justin.!,  vi.  •;.  5. 

»  A  t lien.  I.  i.  p.  3. 

«  Xenoph.  Hist  Grtec.  1.  ir.  p.  537, 538.  Plot,  in  Agesil. 
p.  CU6. 


orders  to  make  the  most  advantageous  pn  posals  to 
Tiribazus  that  his  master  could  desire.  Without 
giving  himself  any  manner  of  trouble  in  regard  to 
Asia,  he  stipulated  only,  that  all  the  islands,  and  other 
cities,  should  enjoy  their  laws  and  libertv.  The 
Lacedaemonians  thus  gave  up  to  the  king,  with  the 
greatest  injustice  and  the  utmost  bastntss,  all  the 
Greeks  settled  in  A^ia,  for  whose  liberty  Afjei-ilauj 
had  so  long  fought.  It  is  true,  he  had  no  share  in 
this  most  infamous  negociation;  the  whole  reproach 
of  which  ought  to  fall  on  Antalcidas,  who,  being  the 
sworn  enemy  of  the  king  of  Sparta,  hastened  the 
peace  by  all  manner  of  means,  because  the  war  aug 
mented  the  authority,  glory,  and  reputation,  of  Age- 
lilaus. 

The  most  considerable  cities  of  Greece  had  sent 
deputies  at  the  same  time  to  Tiribazus,  and  Conon 
was  at  the  head  of  those  from  Athens.  All  of  them 
were  unanimous  in  rejecting  such  proposals.  With- 
out speaking  of  the  interests  of  the  Greeks  of  Asia, 
with  which  they  were  extremely  affected,  they  saw 
themselves  exposed  by  this  treaty;  the  Athenians,  to 
the  loss  of  the  isles  of  Lemnos,  Imbros,  and  Scyros; 
the  Thebans,  to  abandon  the  cities  of  Boeotia,  of  which 
they  were  in  possession,  and  which  would  thereby 
regain  their  independence;  and  the  Argives,  to  re- 
nounce Corinth,  with  the  loss  of  which  that  of  Argo« 
itself  would  soon,  in  all  probability,  be  attended. 
The  deputies  therefore  withdrew  without  concluding 
any  thing. 

Tiribazus  seized  Conon,  and  put  him  in  j.rison. 
Not  daring  to  declare  openly  to  the  Lacedaemonians 
without  an  express  order  to  that  purpose,  he  contented 
himself  with  supplying  them  underhand  with  consi- 
derable sums  of  money  for  fitting  out  a  fleet,  in  ordei 
that  the  other  cities  of  Greece  might  not  be  in  a  con- 
dition to  oppose  them.  After  having  taken  these 
precautions,  lie  set  out  directly  for  the  court,  to  give 
the  king  an  account  of  the  state  of  his  negociation. 
That  prince  was  well  satisfied  with  it,  and  directed 
him  in  the  strongest  terms  to  put  the  last  hand  to  it, 
Tiribazus  also  laid  before  him  the  Lacedaemonians' 
accusation  of  Conon.  Some  authors,  according  to 
Cornelius  !Nepos,  have  affirmed  that  he  was  carried 
to  Susa,  and  there  executed  by  the  king's  order.  The 
silence  of  Xenophon,  who  was  his  contemporary,  in 
regard  to  his  death,  makes  it  doubtful,  whether  he 
escaped  from  prison,  or  suffered  as  has  been  said. 

Whilst  this  treaty  was  negociating,  several  actions 
of  little  consequence  passed  between  the  Athenians 
and  Lacediemonians.  It  ivas  also  at  the  same  time 
that  Evagoras  extended  his  conquests  in  the  island 
of  Cyprus,  of  which  we  shall  soon  treat. 

Tiribazus   at    length,6  upo>i  his 
return,  summoned  the  deputies  of  A.M.  3617. 

the  Grecian  cities  to  be  present  at  Ant.  J.  C.  387. 
the  reading  of  the  treaty.  It  im- 
ported, that  all  the  Grecian  cities  of  Asia  should 
remain  dependent  on  the  king,  and  that  the  rest,  as 
well  small  as  great,  should  have  full  possession  of 
their  liberty.  The  king  farther  reserved  to  himself 
the  isles  of  Cyprus  and  Clazomenae,  and  left  those  of 
Scyros,  Lemnos,  and  Imbros,  to  the  Athenians,  to 
whom  they  had  long  appertained.  By  the  same 
treaty  he  engaged  to  join  with  such  states  as  acceded 
to  it,  in  order  to  make  war  by  sea  and  land  ag-ainst 
all  that  should  refuse  to  agree  to  it.  We  have  al- 
ready said  it  was  Sparta  itself  who  had  proposed  these 
conditions. 

All  the  other  cities  of  Greece,  or  at  least  the  great- 
est part  of  them,  rejected  so  infamous  a  treaty  with 
horror.  However,  as  they  were  weakened  and  ex- 
hausted by  domestic  divisions,  and  not  in  a  condition 
to  support  a  war  against  so  powerful  a  prince,  who 
threatened  to  fall  with  all  his  forces  upon  those  who 
should  refuse  to  accede  to  this  agreement,  they  were 
obliifcd  against  their  will  to  comply  with  it;  except 
thrs  Thebans,  who  had  the  courage  to  oppose  it  open- 
ly at  first,  but  at  length  were,  reduced  to  accept  it 
with  the  others,  by  whom  they  found  themselves  link 
versally  abandoned. 


•  Xonoph.  L  T.  p.  548—551. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


375 


Such  was  the  fruit  of  the  jealousy  and  divisions 
which  armed  the  Grecian  cities  against  each  other, 
and  which  was  the  end  proposed  by  the  policy  of 
Artaxerxes,  in  distributing  considerable  sums  of  mo- 
ney amongst  the  several  states;  invincible  by  arms 
and  by  the  sword,  but  not  by  the  gold  and  presents 
of  the  Persians;  so  remote  were  they  in  this  respect 
from  the  character  of  the  ancient  Greek*  their  lore- 
fathers. 

To  comprehend  aright  how  much  Sparta  and  Ath- 
ens differed  now  from  what  they  had  been  in  former 
times,  we  have  only  to  compare  the  two  treaties  con- 
cluded between  the  Greek?  and  Persians;  the  for- 
mer by  Cimon  the  Athenian,  under  Artaxerxes 
Longimanus  above  sixty  years  before,  and  the 
latter  byAntalcidas  the  Lacedaemonian  under  Arta- 
xei'xes  Mnemon.  In  the  first,1  Greece,  victorious 
am!  triumphant,  assures  the  liberty  of  the  Asiatic 
Greeks,  gives  the  law  to  the  Persians,  imposes  what 
conditions  she  pleases,  and  prescribes  to  them  their 
bounds  and  limits,  by  prohibiting  them  to  ap- 
proach nearer  to  the  sea  with  their  troops  than  the 
distance  of  three  days'  march,  or  to  appear  with 
ships  of  war  in  any  o!  the  seas  between  the  Cyanaean 
and  Chelinonian  islands;  that  is  to  say,  from  the 
Kuxine  to  the  coasts  of  Pamphylia.  In  the  second, 
on  the  contrary,  Persia,  grown  haughty  and  imperi- 
ous, takes  pleasure  in  humbling  its  conquerors,  in  de- 
priving them,  with  the  single  stroke  of  a  pen,  of  their 
empire  in  Asia  Minor,  in  compelling  them  to  abandon 
basely  all  the  Greeks  established  in  those  rich  pro- 
vinces, to  subscribe  to  their  own  subjection,  and  to 
confine  themselves  in  their  turn  within  the  narrow 
bounds  of  Greece. 

From  whence  can  so  strange  an  alteration  arise? 
Are  there  not  on  both  sides  tiie  same  cities.the  same 
people,  the  same  forces,  and  the  same  interests?  No 
ioubt  there  are:  but  they  are  not  the  same  men;  or 
rather,  they  have  no  longer  the  gnme  principles  of 
policy.  Let  us  recall  to  mind  those  happy  times  of 
Greece,  so  glorious  for  Athens  and  Sparta,  when 
Persia  came  pouring  like  a  deluge  upon  this  little 
country  with  all  the  forces  of  the  Hast.  What  was  it 
that  rendered  these  two  cities  invincible,  and  supe- 
rior to  such  numerous  and  formidable  armies?  Their 
union  and  good  understanding.  No  dissension  be- 
tween the  two  states,  no  jealousy  of  command,  no 
private  view  of  interest;  in  fine,  no  other  contest  be- 
tween them,  but  that  of  honour,  glory,  and  the  love 
of  their  country. 

To  so  laudable  a  union  may  be  added  an  irrecon* 
cilable.  hatred  for  the  Persians,  which  became,  if  I 
m:iv  so  «nv,  natural  to  the  Greeks,  and  was  the  most 
distinguishing  character  of  that  nation.  It  was  a 
capital  crime,2  ami  punished  with  death,  only  to 
mention  peace,  or  propose  any  accommodation  with 
them:  anil  an  Athenian  mother  was  seen  to  throw 
the  first  stone  at  her  son,  who  had  dared  to  make 
such  a  motion,  and  to  set  others  the  example  of  ston- 
iiiir  him. 

This  strict  union  of  the  two  states,  and  this  de- 
clared abhorrence  of  the  common  enemy,  were  for  a 
Ion-;  tune  the  potent  barriers  of  their  security,  ren- 
dered them  invincible,  nnd  may  be  said  to  have 
been  tiie  source  and  principle  of  all  the  glorious 
iiiicce-i.es  that  raised  the  reputation  of  Greece  to 
«o  high  a  pitch.  But  by  a  misfortune  common  to 
the  most  flourishing  states,  those  very  successes  lie- 
came  the  cause  of  its  ruin,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  the  disgraces  which  it  experienced  in  the  sequel. 
These  two  states,3  which  might  have  carried  their 
victorious  arms  into  the  heart  of  Persia,  and  have 
attacked  in  their  turn  the  great  king  upon  his  throne 
itself;  instead  of  forming  in  concert  such  an  enter- 
prise, which  would  at  once  have  crowned  them  with 
glory  an'l  laden  them  with  riches,  have  the  folly  to 
leave  their  common  enemy  in  repose,  to  embroil 
themselves  with  each  other  upon  trivial  points  of 
honour  :in  1  interests  of  little  importance,  and  to 
«>xji:iusi  those  forces  to  no  purpose  against  them- 


iod.  1.  xii.  p.  74,  75.  »  t«oc.  in  Pnnc<ryr.  p   14H. 

oc   in    Paun;yr.  p.  132--13~.    Jn  Panalh.'p.  524,  52 


selves,  which  ought  to  have  been  employed  solely 
against  the  barbarians,  that  could  not  have  resisted 
them.  For  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  Per- 
sians never  gained  any  advantage  over  the  Athe- 
nians or  Lacedaemonians  whilst  they  were  united 
with  each  other,  and  that  it  was  their  own  division* 
alone  which  supplied  them  with  the  means  to  con- 
quer both  alternately,  and  always  the  one  by  the 
other. 

These  divisions  induced  them  to  take  such  mea- 
sures as  neither  Sparta  nor  Athens  would  ever 
otherwise  have  been  capable  of.  We  see  both  the 
one  and  the  other  dishonour  themselves  by  their 
mean  and  abject  flatteries,  not  o:ily  of  the  king  of 
Persia,  but  even  of  his  satraps;  pay  their  court  to 
them,  earnestly  solicit  their  favour,  cringe  to  them, 
and  even  suffer  their  ill  humour;  and  all  this  to  ob- 
tain some  aid  of  troops  or  money ;  forgetting  that  the 
Persians,  haughty  and  insolent  to  such  as  seemed 
afraid  of  them,  became  timorous  and  little  to  those 
who  had  the  courage  to  despise  them.  But,  in  fine, 
what  did  they  gain  by  all  these  mean  condescensions' 
The  treaty  which  gave  occasion  for  these  reflections, 
and  will  forever  be  the  reproach  of  Sparta  ami 
Athens. 

SECTION.  VI.— WAR  OF  ARTAXERXES  AGAINST 
EVAGORAS,  KING  OF  SALAMIS.  EULOGY  AND 
CHARACTER  OF  THAT  PRINCE.  TIKIBAZU9 
FALSELY  ACCUSED.  HIS  ACCUSER  PUNISHED. 

WHAT  I  have  just  said  upon  the  facility  with 
which  the  Greeks  might  have  rendered  themselves 
formidable  to  their  enemies,  will  be  more  evident  if 
we  consider  on  one  side,  the  diversity  of  the  nations, 
and  the  extent  of  country,  which  composed  the  vast 
empire  of  the  Persians  ;  and  on  the  other,  the 
weakness  of  the  government,  incapable  of  animating 
so  great  a  mass,  and  of  supporting  the  weight  of  so 
much  business  and  application.  At  the.  court  ev- 
ery thing  was  determined  by  the  intrigues  of  wo- 
men and  the  cabals  of  favourites,  whose  sole  merit 
often  consisted  in  flattering  their  prince,  and  sooth- 
ing his  passions.  It  was  through  their  influence  that 
officers  were  chosen,  and  the  first  dignities  disposed 
of;  by  their  opinion  the  services  of  the  generals 
of  armies  were  judged,  and  their  rewards  decided. 
The  sequel  will  show,  that  from  the  same  source 
arose  the  insurrection  of  provinces,  the  distrust  ot" 
the  greatest  part  of  the  governors,  the  discontent 
and  consequent  revolt  of  the  best  officers,  and  the 
ill  success  of  almost  all  the  enterprises  that  were 
formed. 

Artaxerxes,  freed  from  the  care  and  perplexity 
which  the  war  with  the  Greeks  had  occasioned,  ap- 
plied himself  to  the  terminating  that  of  Cyprus,  which 
had  lasted  several  years,  but  had  been  carried  on 
with  little  vigour,  and  turned  the  greatest  part  of  his 
forces  that  way. 

Evagoras  reigned  at  that  time  in  Salamis.4  the  ca- 
pital city  of  the  Isle  of  Cyprus.  He  was  descended 
from  Teucer  of  Salami?,*  who  at  his  return  from 
Troy  built  this  city,  and  gave  it  the  name  of  his  coun- 
try. His  descendants  had  reigned  there  from  that 
time;  but  a  stranger  from  Phoenicia,  having  dispos- 
sessed the  lawful  king,  had  taken  his  place,  and  to 
maintain  himself  in  the  usurpation  had  filled  the  city 
with  barbarians,  and  subjected  the  whole  island  to 
the  king  of  Persia. 

Under  this  tyrant  Evagoras  was  born,  and  great 
care  was  taken  of  his  education.  He  was  distin- 
guished amongst  the  youth  by  the  beauty  of  hit 
aspect,  the  vigour  of  his  body,  and  still  more  by  the 
modesty  and  innocence  of  his  manners,8  which  are 
the  greatest  ornaments  of  that  age.  As  he  advanced 
in  yean,  the  greatest  virtues,  valour,  wisdom,  and 
justice  were  observed  to  shine  forth  in  him.  He  af- 
terwards carried  these  virtues  to  so  conspicuous  a 
height,  as  to  give  jealousy  to  those  that  were  at  the 


«  Ts-wrat.  in  Evas.  p.  380. 

•  This  Teucer  was  of  Salami*,  a  little  island  near  Atbei* 
celrlirateil  for  the  famous  ica-fight  under  Xerxei. 

•  Et,  qui  ornat  jetatem.  pudor.     Cic. 


376 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


bead  of  the  government:  who  conceived  justly  that 
»o  brilliant  H  merit  could  not  continue  in  the  obscu- 
ritj  of  a  private  condition:  but  his  modesty,  probi- 
ty, and  integrity,  re-assured  them;  and  they  re- 
posed an  entire  confidence  in  him,  which  he  always 
repaid  by  an  inviolable  fidelity,  without  ever  medi- 
tating their  expulsion  from  the  throne  by  violence 
or  treachery. 

A  more  justifiable  means  conducted  him  to  it,  Di- 
vine Providence,  a»  Isocrates  says,  preparing  the 
way  for  him.  One  of  the  principal  citizens  murder- 
ed the  person  upon  the  throne,  and  intended  to 
seize  Evagoras,  and  to  rid  himself  of  him,  in  order 
to  secure  the  crown  to  himself;  but  that  prince 
escaping  his  pursuit,  retired  to  Soli,  a  city  of  Cilicia. 
His  banishment  was  so  far  from  abating  his  courage, 
that  it  gave  him  new  vigour.  Attended  only  with 
fifty  followers,  determined  like  himself  to  conquer 
or  die,  he  returned  to  Salamis,  and  expelled  the 
usurper,  though  supported  by  the  credit  and  pro- 
tection of  the  king-  of  Persia.  Having  re-establish- 
ed himself  in  Salamis,  he  soon  rendered  his  little 
kingdom  very  flourishing,  by  his  great  care  in  re- 
lieving his  subjects,  and  by  protecting  them  in  every 
respect;  by  governing  them  with  justice  and  bene- 
volence; by  making  them  active  and  laborious;  by 
inspiring  them  with  a  taste  for  the  cultivation  of 
their  lands,  the  breeding  of  cattle,  commerce,  and 
navigation.  He  trained  them  also  for  war,  and  made 
(hem  excellent  soldiers. 

He  was  already  very  powerful, 

A.  M.  3599.       and  had  acquired  great  reputation. 

Ant.  J.  C.  405.       when  Conon  the  Athenian  general, 

after  his  defeat  at  ./Egospotamos, 
took  refuge  with  him;  not  thinking  it  possible  to 
rfnd  a  safer  asylum  for  himself,1  nor  a  more  power- 
ful support  of  his  country.  The  resemblance  of 
their  manners  and  sentiments  soon  made  them  con- 
tract a  strict  amity  with  each  other,  which  continu- 
ed ever  after,  and  proved  equally  advantageous  to 
both.  Conon  possessed  great  influence  at  the  king 

of   Persia's   court,  which   he   em- 

A.  M.  3605.       ployed    with    that  prince,   by  the 

Ant.  J.  C.  399.       means  of  Ctesias,  his  physician,  to 

accommodate  his  differences  with 
his  host  Evagoras,  and  happily  effected  it. 

Evagoras  and  Conon  engaged  in  the  great  design 
of  subverting,  or  at  least  of  reducing,  the  great  pow- 
er of  Sparta,  which  had  rendered  itself  formidable 
to  all  Greece,  concerted  together  the  means  for  the 
attainment  of  that  end.  They  were  both  citizens  of 
Athens;  the  latter  by  birth,  and  the  other  by  right 
of  adoption;  a  privilege  which  great  services  and 

zeal  for  that  republic  had  merited. 
A.  M.  3606.       The   satraps  of  Asia  saw  with  pain 
Ant.  J.  C.  398.       their  country  ravaged  by  the  Lace- 
demonians, and    found    themselves 
in  great  difficulties  from  not  being  in  a  condition  to 
make  head  against  them.     Evagoras  demonstrated  to 
them,  thnt   it  was   necessary  to   attack   the  enemy  as 
well  by  sea  as  land;  and   he  contributed  not  a  little, 
through  the  influence  he  still  had  with  (he  king  of 

Persia,   to   Conon's   being    appoin- 
A.  M.  3610.        ted  general  of  his  fleet.     The  eel- 
Ant.  J.  C.  394.       ebrated     victory    over    the     Lace- 

dremonians  at  Cnidos  was  the 
consequence,  and  gave  the  mortal  wound  to  that  re- 
public. 

The  Athenians,*  in  acknowledgment  of  the  im- 
portant services  which  Evagoras  and  Conon  had  ren- 
dered them  with  Artaxerxes,  erected  statues  in  ho- 
nour of  them. 

Evagoras,*  on  his  side,  extending  his  conquests 
from  city  to  city,  endeavoured  to  make  himself  mas- 
ter of  the  whole  island.  The  Cypriots  had  recourse 
to  the  kintr  of  Persia.  That  prince,  alarmed  by  the 
rapid  progress  of  Evagoras,  the  effects  of  which  he 
apprehended,  and  conscious  of  what  importance  it 
was  to  him  to  prevent  an  island's  falling  into  the 
hands  of  an  enemy,  which  was  so  favourably  situated 


for  holding  Asia  Minor  in  awe,  piomiserf  tlutn  s» 
immediate  and  powerful  support,  without  <)ti  l.iring 
openly,  however,  against  Evagoras. 

Being   employed    elsewhere    by 

more  important   affairs,4  he    could  A    M.  3614 

not  keep  his  word  with  them  so  soon       Ant.  J.  C.  390 
as  he  expected,  and    had   engaged. 
That   war   of  Cyprus  continued   six    years,  and  the 
success  with  which  Evagoras  supported  it  against  the 
great  king,  ought    to   have  banished  from  the    minds 
of  the   Greeks  all  terror  of  the    Persian   name,  end. 
united  them  against  the  common  enemy.     It  is  true, 
the  succours  sent  by  Artaxerxes,   till  then,  wt  re   in- 
considerable,  as  they  were   also   the   two   following 
years.     During  all  this  time  it  was   less  a   real    war, 
than    a    preparation    for   war:  but 
when    he    had  disengaged    himself  A.  M.  SHI 8. 

from   the    Greeks,5    he   applied    to        Ant.  J.  C.  386. 
it  vigorously,  and  attacked  Evago- 
ras with  all  his  forces. 

The  land  army,  commanded  by  Orontes  his  son-in- 
law,  consisted  of  300,000  men,  and  the  lleet  of  300 
galleys;  of  which  Tiribazus,  a  Persian  of  the  high- 
est rank  and  greatest  reputation,  was  admiral.  Gaos, 
his  son-iii-U'.v,  commanded  under  him.  Evagoras, 
on  his  side,  assembled  as  many  troops  and  ships  &» 
he  could;  but  they  were  a  haiullul,  in  comparison 
with  the  formidable  preparations  of  the  Persians. 
His  fleet  was  composed  of  only  fourscore  and  ten 
galleys,  and  his  army  scarce  amounted  to  20.000  men. 
As  he  had  abundance  of  light  vessels,  he  laid  snare* 
for  those  that  carried  the  provisions  of  the  enemy, 
sunk  a  great  number,  took  many,  and  prevented  the 
rest  from  arriving  ;  which  occasioned  a  famine 
amongst  the  Persians,  and  gave  rise  to  violent  sedi- 
tions, which  could  only  be  appeased  by  the  arrival  of 
fresh  convovs  from  Cilicia.  Evagoras  strengthened 
his  fleet  with  sixty  galleys,  which  he  caused  to  be 
built,  and  fifty  sent  him  by  Achoris  king  of  Egypt, 
with  all  the  money  and  corn  he  could  have  occasion  for. 

Evagoras,  with  his  land  forces,  attacked  immedi- 
ately a  part  of  the  enemy's  army,  which  was  separate 
from  the  rest,  and  entirely  routed  it.  This  first  ac- 
tion was  soon  followed  by  another  at  sea,  in  which 
the  Persians  xvere  worsted'  for  some  time,  till  anima- 
ted by  the  warm  reproaches  and  remonstrances  of 
their  admiral,  they  resumed  courage,  and  obtained 
a  complete  victory.  Salamis  was  immediately  be- 
sieged bv  sea  and  land.  Evagoras,  haying  the  de- 
fence of  the  city  to  his  son  Pythagoras,  quilled  it  in 
the  night  with  len  galleys,  and  sailed  for  Eg\pt,  to 
engage  the  king  to  support  him  vigorously  against 
the  common  enemy.  He  did  not  obtain  from  him 
all  the  aid  he  expected.  At  his  return  he  found  the 
city  in  exceeding  distress;  and  finding  himself  with- 
out resource  or  hope,  he  was  obliged  to  capitulate. 
The  proposal*  made  to  him  w'ere,  that  he  should 
abandon  all  the  cities  of  Cyprus  except  Salami*, 
where  he  should  content  himself  to  reign;  that 
he  should  pay  an  annual  tribute  to  the  kin-r.  and  re- 
main in  obedience  to  him  as  a  servant  to  a  master. 
The  extremity  to  which  he  was  red  need,  obliged  him 
to  accept  the  other  conditions,  hard  as  they  were; 
but  he  could  never  resolve  to  comply  with  the  last, 
and  persisted  always  in  declaring,  that  he  could  only 
treat  as  a  king  with  a  king.  Tiribazus  who  com- 
manded the  siege,  would  abate  nothing  of  his  pre- 
tension*. 

Orontes,  the  other  general,  jealous  of  his  colleague'^ 
glory,  had  written  secretly  to  court  against  him,  ac- 
cusing him,  amongst  other  things,  of  forming  desigiu 
against  the  king,  and  assigned  in  support  of  liis  accu- 
sation his  continuing  to  hold  a  secret  intelligence 
with  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  his  manifest  endeavours 
to  attach  to  himself  the  chief*  of  the  army,  by  force 
of  presents,  promises,  and  an  obliging  demeanour  not 
natural  to  him.  Artaxerxes,  upon  these  letters,  be- 
lieved he  had  no  time  to  lose  in  stifling  a  conspiracy 
which  he  considered  as  ready  to  Imak  out.  He 
despatched  orders  immediately  to  Orontes,  to  sen* 


«  Inorral.  'n  EVHJ.  p.  3'J3 — 31J5. 

•  PaLf*n.    .i.  p  5.  •  Diod.  I.  xir.  p.  311. 


«  Tuorrnt.  in  Pane?,  p.  13."),  13(5 
•  Diod  I.  xv  p.  :»2e— 333 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


Tinbaiu«,  and  send  him  to  court  in  chains,  which 
was  imineiiiately  put  in  execution.  Tiribaius,  upon 
bis  arrival,  demanded  to  be  brought  to  Hal  in  form; 
that  the  heads  of  the  accusation  shouK  be  communi- 
cated to  him.  and  the  proof  and  witnesses  produced. 
The  king,  employed  in  other  cares,  had  no  leisure  at 
that  time  to  take  cognizance  of  the  affair. 

Oroims,  in  the  mean  time,  seeing  that  the  besieged 
made  a  vigorous  defence,  and  that  the  soldiers  of  the 
Briny,  discontented  with  the  removal  of  Tiribazus, 
qniti«;l  the  service,  and  refused  to  obey  him,  was 
afraid  affairs  would  take  a  bad  tarn  with  regard  to 
himself.  He  therefore  caused  Evagoras  to  be  spoken 
to  underhand:  the  negociation  was  resumed,  the 
ofT<  rs  made  at  first  bv  the  latter  were  accepted,  and 
the  mortif\ing  article,  which  had  prevented  the  con- 
clusion of  the  treaty,  retrenched. 
A.  M.  3619.  The  siege  was  raised  in  conse- 
Ant.  J.  C.  385.  qnence.  Evagoras  continued  king 
of  Salamis  only,  and  engaged  to 
pav  an  annual  tribute. 

It  appears  that  this  prince  lived  twelve  or  thirteen 
vears  after  the  conclusion  of  the  treaty,  for  his  death 
is  dated  in  the  year  of  the  world  3632.  His  old  age 
was  attended  with  a  happiness  and  tranquillity  never 
interrupted  with  sickness  or  disea«e,  the  usual  effect 
of  a  sober  and  temperate  life.  Nicoclen,  his  eldest 
•on,  succeeded  him,  and  inherited  his  virtues  as  well 
as  throne.  He  celebrated  his  funeral  with  the  utmost 
magnificence.  The  discourse,  entitled  Evag-oras, 
composed  bv  Fsocrates  to  inspire  the  young  king  with 
-  re  of  treading  in  the  step*  of  his  father,  and 
from  which  I  have  extracted  the  subsequent  eulo- 
ginm,  served  for  his  funeral  oration.  He  also  ad- 
dressed another  tract  to  Nicocles,  which  bears  his 
name,  wherein  he  gives  him  admirable  precepts  for 
governing  well.  I  shall  perhaps,  have  occasion  to 
speak  further  of  them  afterwards. 

Eulogy  and  character  of  Evagvra*. 

Though  Evagoras  was  only  king  of  a  little  state,1 
Isocrates,  who  was  well  able  to  judge  of  virtue  and 
merit,  compares  him  with  the  most  powerful  monarchs, 
ai.d  proposes  him  as  the  perfect  model  of  a  good  king, 
convinced  that  it  is  not  the  extent  of  territory,  but 
extent  of  mind  and  greatness  of  soul,  that  constitute 
great  princes.  In  fact,  he  points  out  to  us  many 
qualities  truly  royal  in  him,  and  which  ought  to  give 
us  a  very  high  idea  of  his  merit. 

Evajrnrn*  was  not  of  the  number  of  those  princes 
who  believe,  that  to  reign,  it  is  sufficient  to  be  of  the 
blood-royal;  and  that  the  birth  which  gives  a  risrht 
to  the  crown,  gives  also  the  merit  and  qualities 
necessary  for  wearing  it  with  honour.  He  did  not 
fancv  that  it  could  be  supposed,  since  every  other 
condition  and  station  of  life  made  a  kind  of  appren- 
ticeship necessary  to  succeed  therein,  that  the  art  of 
reigning,  the  most  difficult  and  important  of  all. 
should  require  no  pains  and  preparation  for  its  at- 
tainment. He  came  into  the  world  with  the  most 
happy  disposi:jons;  a  great  fund  of  genius,  a  ready 
comprehension,  a  lively  and  quick  penetration  which 
nothing  escaped,  a  solidity  of  judgment  that  ininie- 
diat'iy  perceived  what  was  necessary  to  he  done; 
qualities  which  miirht  seem  to  dispense  with  all  study 
and  application;  and  vet,  as  if  he  had  been  born 
without  talrnt«,  and  found  himself  obliged  to  supply 
by  stnr'y  what  he  mis-ht  want  by  nature,  he  neglected 
no  means  for  the  embellishment  of  his  mind,  and  de- 
voted a  considerable  part  of  his  time  in  instructing 
mmseK,«in  reflecting,  meditating,  and  consulting  the 
'U^irnient  and  experience  of  others. 

Wh.n  hp  ascended  the  throne,  his  greatest  care 
»nd  application  wa«  to  know  mankind,  in  which  the 
ability  of  a  prince,  and  of  those  which  are  at  the  head 
of  aftnirs,  principally  consi-t*.  He  had,  no  doubt, 
n.-etwed  himself  for  that  science  by  the  study  of 
history,  which  gives  prudence  by  anticipation,  sup- 
plies the  place  of  experience,  and  leaches  us  what 


l«orrat   in  Evap. 
' 


VOL.  I  —48 


377 

the  men  are  with  whom  we  live,  by  what  <nev  nar« 
been  in  other  ages.  But  we  study  men  quite  nitfer- 
ently  in  themselves;  by  their  manners,  character* 
conduct,  and  actions.  The  love  of  the  commonwealth 
rendered  him  attentive  to  all  persons  who  were  capa- 
ble of  serving  or  hurting  it.  He  applied  him-eli  to 
the  discovery  of  their  most  secret  inclinations  and 
principles  of  action,  and  to  the  knowledge  of  their 
different  talents  and  degress  of  capacity,  in  order  to 
assign  to  each  his  proper  poat,  to  bestow  authority  in 
proportion  to  merit,  and  to  make  the  private  'and 
public  good  promote  each  other.  He  neither  re- 
warded nor  punished  his  subjects,  says  Isocrates, 
from  the  report  of  others,  but  solely  upon  his  own 
knowledge  and  experience  of  them;  and  neither  the 
virtues  of  the  good,  nor  the  vices  of  the  bad,  escaped 
his  inquiry  and  penetration. 

He  had  one  quality  very  seldom  found  in  those 
who  possess  the  first  rank,  especially  when  they 
believe  themselves  capable  of  governing  alone  ;  I 
mean,  a  wonderful  docility  and  attention  to  the 
opinion  of  others,  which  arose  from  a  diffidence  in 
his  own  abilities.  With  his  great  penetration,  it  did 
not  seem  necessary  for  him  to  have  recourse  to  the 
counsel  of  others:  jet  he  nevertheless  made  no  reso- 
lution, and  formed  no  enterprise,  without  having  first 
consulted  the  wise  persons  he  had  placed  about  him 
in  his  court:  instead  of  which,  pride  and  presumption, 
the  latent  poison  of  sovereign  power,  incline  the 
greatest  part  of  those  who  arrive  at  thrones,  either  to 
ask  no  counsel  at  all,  or  not  to  follow  it  when  they  do. 

Intent  upon  discovering  what  was  excellent  in  ev»ry 
form  of  government  and  private  condition  of  life,  he 
proposed  the  uniting  of  all  their  best  qualities  and 
advantages  in  himself:  affable  and  popular  as  in  a 
republican  state;  grave  and  serious  as  in  the  council 
of  the  elders  and  senators;  steady  and  decisive,  alter 
mature  deliberation,  as  in  a  monarchy;  a  profound 
politician  by  the  extent  and  rectitude  of  his  views;  an 
accomplished  warrior,  from  intrepid  valour  in  battle 
directed  by  a  wise  moderation:  a  good  father,  a  good 
relation,  a  good  friend,  and,  what  crowns  his  eulogy 
in  every  circumstance  of  his  character,8  always  grtat, 
and  always  a  kin";. 

He  sup|K>rted  his  dignity  and  rank,  not  by  an  air  of 
pi'iife  and  haughtiness,  but  by  a  serenity  of  aspect, 
and  a  mild  ana  easy  majesty,  resulting  from  innate 
virtue,  and  the  testimonV  of  a  good  conscience.  He 
won  the  hearts  of  his  friends  by  his  liberality,  anil 
conquered  others  by  a  greatness  of  soul,  to  which 
they  could  not  refuse  their  esteem  and  admiration. 

But  what  was  most  royal  in  him,  and  attracted  the 
entire  confidence  of  his  subjects,  neighbours,  and 
even  enemies,  was  his  sincerity,  faith,  and  regard  to 
nil  his  engagements;  and  his  hatred,  or  rather  de- 
testation, for  all  disguise,  falsehood,  and  fraud.  A 
single  word  from  him  had  as  much  regard  paid  to  it 
as  the  most  sacred  oath;  and  it  was  universally 
.known,  that  nothing  was  capable  of  inducing  him  to 
violate  it  in  the  least  circumstance  whatever. 

It  was  by  all  these  excellent  qualities  thift  he  effec- 
tually reformed  the  city  of  Salamis,  and  entirely 
changed  its  appearance  in  a  very  short  time.  He 
found  it  gross,  savage,  and  barbarous,  without  any 
taste  either  for  learning,  commerce,  or  arms.  AVhat 
cannot  a  prince  do  that  loves  his  people,  and  is  be- 
loved by  them;  who  believes  himself  great  and  pow- 
erful only  to  render  them  happy;  and  knows  how  to 
set  a  just  value  upon,  and  do  honour  to,  their  labours, 
industry,  and  merit  of  every  kind!  He  had  not  been 
many  years  upon  the  throne,  before  arts,  sciences, 
commerce,  navigation,  and  military  discipline,  were 
seen  to  flourish  at  Salamis;  insomuch  that  that  cily 
did  not  give  place  to  the  most  opulent  of  Greece. 

Isocrates  often  repeats,  that  in  the  praises  which  he 
gives  Fvagoras,  of  which  I  have  only  extracleo  a  part, 
far  from  exaggerating  any  thing,  he  always  fall*  short 
of  truth.  To  what  can  we  attribute  a  rfign  so 
^)nst,  so  moderate,  so  constantly  employed  in  reniii  r- 
m«r  his  subjects  happy,  and  in'promotuig  the  pu'nli< 
good?  The  condition  of  Evagoras  before  he  cam» 


2G2 


378 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


io  go  vein,  seems  to  me  to  have  contributed  very 
much  to  it.  The  being  born  a  prince,  and  the  never 
having  experienced  any  other  conditiou  than  that  of 
master  and  sovereign,  are,  in  my  opinion,  great  ob- 
stacle's to  the  knowledge  and  practice  of  the  duties 
of  that  high  station.  Evagoras  who  came  into  the 
world  under  a  tyrant,  had  long  obeyed  before  he 
commanded.  He  had  borne  in  a  private  and  depen- 
dent life  the  yoke  of  an  absolute  and  despotic  power. 
He  had  seen  himself  exposed  to  envy  and  calumny, 
and  had  been  in  danger  on  account  of  his  merit  and 
virtue.  Such  a  prince  had  only  to  be  told,  upon  his 
ascending  the  throne,  what  was  said  to  a  great  em- 
peror: '  "You  have  not  always  been  what  you  now 
are.  Adversity  has  prepared  you  to  mak'e  a  good 
use  of  power.  You  have  lived  long  amongst  us,  and 
like  us.  You  have  been  in  danger  under  bad  princes. 
You  have  trembled  for  yourself,  and  known  by  ex- 
perience how  virtue  and  innocence  have  been  treat- 
ed."* What  he  bad  personally  suffered,  what  he 
had  feared  for  himself  or  others,  what  he  had  seen 
unjust  and  unreasonable  in  the  conduct  of  his  prede- 
cessors, hail  opened  his  eyes,  and  taught  him  all  his 
duty.  It  sufficed  to  t»;ll  him,  what  the  emperor  Galba 
told  Piso,  when  he  adopted  him  for  his  associate  in 
the  empire:  "Remember  what  you  condemned  or 
applauded  in  princes,  when  you  were  a  private  man. 
You  have  only  to  consult  the  judgment  you  then 
passed  upon  them,  and  to  act  conformably  to  it,  in 
order  to  acquire  full  instruction  in  the  art  of  reign- 
ing well."  * 

Trial  of  Tirilazns. 

We  have  already  said  that  Tiribazus,4  having  been 
accused  by  Orontes  of  forming  a  conspiracy  against 
the  king,  had  been  sent  to  court  in  chains.  Gaos, 
admiral  of  the  fleet,  who  had  married  his  daughter, 
apprehending  that  Artaxerxes  would  involve  him  in 
the  affair  with  his  father-in-law,  and  cause  him  to  be 
put  to  death  upon  mere  suspicion,  conceived  he  had 
no  other  means  for  his  security  than  open  revolt.  He 
was  very  well  beloved  by  the  soldiers,  and  all  the 
officers  of  the  fleet  were  particularly  attached  to  him. 
Without  loss  of  time  he  sent  deputies  to  Aohoris, 
king  of  Egypt,  and  concluded  a  league  with  him 
against  the  king  of  Persia.  On  the  other  side,  he 
warmly  solicited  the  Lacedaemonians  to  come  into 
that  league,  with  assurances  of  making  them  mas- 
ters of  all  Greece,  and  of  .establishing  universally 
their  form  of  government,  at  which  they  had  long 
seemed  to  aspire.  They  hearkened  favourably  to 
these  proposals,  and  embraced  with  joy  this  occasion 
of  taking  arms  against  Artaxerxes;  the  rather  be- 
cause the  peace  which  they  had  a  short  time  before 
concluded  with  him,  by  which  they  had  given  up  the 
Greeks  of  Asia,  had  covered  them  with  shame. 

As  soon  as  Artaxerxes  had  put  an  end  to  the  war 
of  Cyprus,5  he  thought  of  concluding  also  the  affair 
of  Tiribazus.  He  had  the  justice  to  appoint  for  that 

Curpose,  as  commissioners,  three  of  the  greatest  no- 
lemen  of  Persia,  of  distinguished  probity,  and  of  the 
highest  reputation  in  his  court.  The  affair  came  to 
an  examination  and  a  hearing  on  both  sides.  For  so 
considerable  a  crime,  as  that  of  having  conspired 
against  the  king's  person,  no  other  proofs  were  pro- 
duced than  the  letter  of  Orontes;  that  is  to  say,  of  a 
declared  enemy,  studious  to  supplant  his  rival.  Oron- 
tes was  in  hopes,  from  his  credit  at  court,  that  the 
affair  would  not  have  been  discussed  in  the  usual 
forms,  and  that  upon  the  memorial  sent  by  him  the 
accused  would  have  been  condemned  without  farther 
examination.  But  this  was  not  the  custom  with  the 
Persians.  By  an  anciently  established  regulation,  to 

<  Trajan. 

*  Quam  utile  cut  ad  usum  recundorum  nor  advema  TB- 
nif«e !  Vi.xKii  nohisrum,  pericliiatus  ••*.  timuisli.  Que 
tune  rrat  innocentium  vita  ceil,  et  expertua  eg.  Plin,  in 
Panmyr. 

>  I'nlis-iimm  ryiiilom  an  brevissimun  hnrmrum  malarum- 
que  rt»rum   dclertux,   cojfi'are   quid    nut    noluirig   sub   al  o 
princiiK-,  aut  volueri*.      Tacit.  Iliit.  I.  i.  c.  16. 

4  Diod.  I.  xv.  p.  334,  33.i. 

>  Dniiliirns  |xi<i|H>n"<  the  derision  of  thin  affair  till  after 
the  war  with  the  Cada.tians.  of  which  we  (hull  *oon  speak. 
Thu  seeing  very  'inpruualile. 


which,  amongst  other  privileges,  they  had  a  right  by 
•birth,  no  person  was  ever  to  be  condemned,  without 
being  first  heard  and  confronted  with  his  accusers. 
This  was  granted  to  Tiribazus,  who  answered  to  all 
the  articles  of  the  letter.  As  to  his  connivance  with 
Evagoras,  the  very  treaty  concluded  by  Orontes  was 
his  apology;  as  it  was  absolute!}'  the  same  a*  that 
prince  had  proposed  to  him,  txcept  one  condition, 
which  would  have  done  honour  to  his  master.  As  to 
his  intelligence  with  the  Lacedaemonians,  the  gloriou* 
treaty  he  had  made  them  sign  sufficiently  explained 
whether  his  own  or  the  king's  interest*  were  his  mo- 
tives for  it.  He  did  not  deny  his  credit  in  the  army; 
but  how  long,  he  inquired,  had  it  been  a  crime  to  be 
beloved  by  the  officers  and  soldiers?  and  he  concluded 
his  defence,  bv  representing  the  long  services  he  had 
rendered  the  king  with  inviolable  fidelity;  and  espe- 
cially his  good  fortune  in  having  formerly  saved  his 
life,  when  he  was  hunting:,  and.  in  great  danger  of 
being  devoured  by  two  lions.  The  three  commis- 
sioners were  unanimous  in  declaring  Tiribazus  inno- 
cent. The  king  restored  him  to  his  former  favour, 
and,  justlv  enraged  at  the  black  design  of  Orontes, 
let  the  whole  weight  of  his  indignation  fall  upon  him 
A  single  example  of  this  kind  against  informers  con- 
victed of  falsehood,  would  for  ever  shut  the  dooi 
against  calumny.  How  many  innocents  have  been 
destroyed  for  want  of  observing  this  rule,  which  even 
the  Pagans  considered  as  the  basis  of  all  justice,  and 
the  guardian  of  the  public  tranquillity. 

SECTION  VII. — THE  EXPEDITION  OF  ARTAXERXES 
AGAINST  THE  CADUSIANS.  HISTORY  OF  DATAMES 
THE  CARIAN. 

WHEN  Artaxerxes  had  terminated  the  Cyprian 
war.8  he  entered  upon  another  against  the  Cadusians, 
who.  it  is  probable,  had  revolted,  and  refused  to  pay 
the  customary  tribute;  for  authors  say  nothing  as  to 
the  occasion  of  this  war.  Those  people  inhabited 
part  of  the  mountains  situate  between  the  Euxine 
and  Caspian  seas,  in  the  north  of  Media.  The  soil 
is  there  so  ungrateful,  and  so  little  proper  for  cultiva- 
tion, that  no  corn  is  sowed  upon  it.  The  people 
subsisted  almost  entirely  upon  apples,  pears,  and 
other  fruits  of  that  kind.  Inured  from  their  infancy 
to  a  hard  and  laborious  life,  they  looked  upon  dan- 
gers and  fatigues  as  nothing;  and  for  that  reason 
were  well  calculated  for  soldiers.  The  king  marched 
against  them  in  person  at  the  head  of  an  armv  of 
three  hundred  thousand  foot  and  ten  thousand  horse. 
Tiribazus  attended  him  in  this  expedition. 

Artaxerxes  had  not  advanced  far  into  the  country 
when  his  army  suffered  extremely  by  famine.  The 
troops  could  find  nothing  to  subsist  upon;  and  it  was 
impossible  to  bring  provisions  from  other  places,  as 
the  roads  were  difficult  and  impracticable.  The 
whole  camp  were  reduced  to  eat  their  beasts  of  bur- 
den; and  these  soon  became  so  scarce,  that  an  ass's 
head  was  valued  at  sixty  drachmas,'  and  wns  very 
hard  to  be  got  at  that  price.  The  king's  table  itself 
began  to  fall  short,  and  only  a  few  horses  remained, 
the  rest  having  been  entirely  consumed. 

In  this  melancholy  conjuncture, Tiribazus  contrived 
R  stratagem  which  saved  the  king  and  army.  The 
Cadusians  had  two  kings,  who  were  encamped  sepa- 
rately with  their  troops.  Tiribazus,  who  took  care  to 
be  informed  of  all  that  passed,  hud  been  apprized  that 
there  was  some  misunderstanding  between  then),  and 
that  their  jealousy  of  e'ach  other  prevented  theiracting 
in  concert,  as  they  ouujht  to  have  done.  After  having 
commuriicated  his  design  to  Artaxerxes,  he  went  him- 
self to  one  of  the  kings,  and  despatched  his  son  to 
the  other.  They  each  of  them  informed  the  king  to 
whom  they  applied,  that  the  other  had  sent  ambassa- 
dors to  treat  with  Artaxerxes  privately,  and  advised 
him  to  lose  no  time,  but  to  make  his  peace  directly, 
in  order  that  the  conditions  of  it  might  be  the  more 
advantageous  ;  promising  to  assist  then)  with  their 
whole  credit.  The  fraud  succeeded.  The  Pa-jan^ 
thought  it  might  allowably  be  used  with  em  mirs.* 


«  Plut.  in  Art«».  p.  1023,  1024.  *  Thirty  livre*. 

•  Dolus  an  virlut,  quii  in  hoste.requiratT  Virgil, 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


379 


Ambajcadort  set  out  f  om  both  princes  respectively, 
from  uie  one  with  Tirhaius,  aud  from  the  other  with 
hit  sou. 

As  this  double  negociation  lasted  some  time,  Ar- 
taxerxes began  to  suspect  Tiribaius;  and  his  ene- 
mies taking  that  opportunitj,  forgot  nothing  to  his 
prejudice  that  might  ruin  him  in  the  king's  opinion. 
That  prince  already  repented  the  confidence  he  had 
reposed  in  hint,  and  thereby  gave  room  for  those  who 
envied  him  to  vent  their  calumnies  and  invectives. 
I'pon  what  does  the  fortune  of  the  most  faithful  sub- 
jects depend  with  a  credulous  and  suspicious  prince! 
VVhilst  this  passed,  arrived  Tiribaius  on  his  side,  and 
his  son  on  the  other,  each  with  ambassadors  from  the 
Cadusians.  The  treaty  being  concluded  with  both 
parties,  ana  the  peace  made,  Firibazus  became  more 
powerlul  than  ever  in  his  master's  favour,  and  re- 
turned with  him. 

The  king's  behaviour  in  this  march  was  much  ad- 
mired. Neither  the  gold  with  which  he  wa?  covered, 
nor  his  purple  robes,  nor  the  jewels  that  glittered  all 
over  him^uiij  were  worth  36,000,000  of  livrts,1  pre- 
vented hi?  taking;  an  equal  »tiare  in  the  whole  fatigue 
with  the  meam-st  soldier.  He  was  seen,  with  his 
quiver  at  his  back  and  his  shield  on  his  arms,  to  dis- 
mount from  his  horse,  and  march  foremost  in  those 
rugged  and  difficult  roads.  The  soldiers,  observing 
bis  patience  and  fortitude,  and  animated  ov  hij  exam- 
ple, became  so  light,  that  they  seemed  rather  to  fly 
than  walk.  At  length  he  arrived  at  one  of  his  palacej, 
where  the  gardens  were  kept  in  admirable  order,  and 
there  was  a  park  of  great  extent  and  \vell  planted, 
which  was  the  more  surprising,  as  the  whole  country 
about  it  was  entirely  naked,  and  bore  no  kind  of  trees. 
As  it  was  the  depth  of  winter,  and  the  cold  was  ex- 
cessive, he  gave  the  soldiers  permission  to  cut  down 
the  wood  in  this  park,  without  sparing  the  finest  tree.-., 
either  pines  or  cypresses.  But  the  soldiers  not  being 
able  to  resolve  to  fell  timberof  such  exceeding  beauty 
and  Maieliness,  the  king  took  an  axe,  and  began  by 
rutting  the  finest  and  largest  tree  himself;  after  which 
the  troops  had  no  farther  scruples,  but  cut  down  all 
the  wood  they  wanted,  and  kindled  as  many  fires  as 
were  necessary  to  enable  them  to  pass  the  night 
without  any  inconvenience.  \Vben  we  reHect  how 
much  value  noblemen  generally  set  upon  their  gar- 
dens and  houses  of  pleasure,  we  must  feel  phased 
with  Artaxerxes's  generosity  in  making  this  sacrifice, 
Which  argued  great  goodness  of  heart,  and  a  sensi- 
bility for  the  distrusts  and  sufferings  of  his  soldiers. 
But  he  did  oot  always  support  that  character. 

The  king  had  lost  in  this  enterprise  a  great  number 
of  his  best  troops,  and  almost  all  bis  horses:  and  as 
he  imagined  that  he  was  despised  upon  that  account 
and  the  ill  success  of  his  expedition,  he  became  very 
much  out  of  humour  with  the  grandees  of  his  court, 
and  put  to  death  a  great  number  of  them  in  the  emo- 
tions of  hi*  wrath,  and  more  out  of  distrust,  and  the 
fear  of  their  attempting  something  against  him.  For 
fear  in  a  suspicious  prince  is  a  very  destructive  and 
bloody  passion;  whereas  true  courage  is  gentle,  hu- 
mane, and  averse  to  all  jealousy  and  suspicion. 

One  of  the  principal  officers  that  ptrished  in  this 
expedition  against  the  Cadusians,*  was  Camisares, 
by  nation  a  Carian,  and  governor  of  Lenco-Syria,  a 
province  enclosed  between  Cilicia  and  Cappadocia. 
His  son  Defames  succeeded  him  in  that  government, 
which  was  sfiven  him  in  consideration  of  the  good 
•ervice*  he  had  also  rendered  the  king  in  the  name 
ex|wdition  He  was  the  greatest  captain  of  his  tune; 
Mid  Cornelius  Nepo*.  who  has  given  us  his  life,  pre- 
fers Amilcar  and  Hannibal  alone  to  him,  amongst  the 
barbarians.  It  appears  from  this  life,  that  no  one 
ever  excelled  him  in  boldness  valour,  and  nbility  in 
iiner.t'niic  scheme*  and  stratagems,  in  activity  in  the 
execution  of  his  design*,  in  presence  of  mind  to  de- 
ride in-iHiitlv.  and  to  risul  resource?  upon  the  most 
desperate  occasions;  in  a  word,  in  every  thing  that 
regards  the  science  of  war.  It  seems  that  nothing 
was  wanting  to  hi*  having  acquired  a  more  illustrious 


i  1  «•<•!  VP  thousand  tal»nti. 
•  Corn.  Xt|».  in  vil.  Dtiimii. 


name,  than  a  more  spacious  |heatre,  and  perhaps  aa 
lu*tortaa  who  would  have. given  a  more  minute  nar- 
rative of  his  exploits.  For  Cornelius  Nepoa,  accord- 
ing to  his  general  plan,  could  uot  relate  them  other- 
wise then  in  a  very  succinct  manner. 

He  began  to  distinguish  himself  particularly  by  the 
execution  of  a  commission  that  was  given  him  to  re- 
duce Thru*,  a  very  powerful  prince,  and  governor  of 
Paphlagonia,  who  had  revolted  against  the  king.  Ai 
he  was  his  near  relation,  he  thought  it  incumbent 
upon  him  at  first  to  try  the  methods  of  lenity  and  con- 
cdialion.  which  almost  cost  bun  his  life,  through  the 
treachery  of  Thy  us,  by  the  ambuscades  he  laid  for 
him.  Having  escaped  so  great  a  danger,  he  attacked 
him  with  open  force;  though  he  saw  himself  aban- 
doned by  Ariobnrzanes,  satrap  of  Lydia,  Ionia,  and 
all  Phrygia,  whom  jealousy  prevented  from  giving 
him  aid.  He  took  his  enemy  prisoner,  with  his  wile 
and  children;  and  knowing  with  what  joy  the  king 
would  receive  the  news,  he  endeavoureil'to  make  it 
the  more  sensibly  felt  by  the  pleasure  of  a  surprise. 
He  set  out  with  his  illustrious  prisoner,  without  giv- 
ing the  court  any  advice,  and  made  long  marches,  to 
prevent  its  being  known  by  report  before  his  arrival. 
V\  hen  he  came  to  Susa,  he  equipped  Thyus  in  a  very 
singular  manner.  He  was  a  man  of  a  very  tall  stature, 
of  a  haggard  and  terrible  aspect,  a  black  complexion, 
with  tiie  hair  of  his  head  aud  beard  very  long.  He 
dressed  him  in  a  magnificent  habit,  put  a  collar  and 
bracelets  of  gold  about  his  neck  and  arms,  and  added 
to  !:;:s  equipage  all  the  ornaments  of  a  king,  as  in 
fuel  he  was.  r  or  himself,  in  the  coarse  habit  of  a 
peasant,  and  clad  like  a  hunter,  armed  with  a  club 
in  his  right  hand,  he  led  Thyus  in  his  l».ft  in  a  leash, 
like  a  wild  beast  that  had  been  taken  in  the  toil*. 
The  novelty  of  the  sight  drew  the  whole  city  alter 
it;  but  nobody  was  so  much  surprised  and  pleased  as 
the  king,  when  he  saw  them  approach  in  that  pleasant 
masquerade.  The  rebellion  of  a  prince,  very  power- 
ful in  his  country,  had  given  Artaxerxes  great  and 
just  alarm,  and  he  did  not  expect  to  have  seen  him 
so  soon  in  his  hands.  So  sudden  and  successful  an 
execution  gave  him  a  higher  opinion  than  ever  of  the 
merit  of  Da  tames. 

To  express  his  sense  of  it,  he  gave  him  an  equal 
share  in  the  command  of  the  army  designed  against 
F.gypt,  with  Pharnabasus  and  Tithrausles,  the  two 
principal  persons  in  the  state,  and  even  appointed 
him  general  in  chief  when  he  recalled  Pharnsbaziis. 

\Yhen  he  was  upon  the  point  of  selling  out  for  that 
expedition,  Artaxerxes  ordered  him  to  march  directly 
against  Aspis,  who  had  made  the  country  where  he 
commanded  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cappadocia  re- 
volt. The  commission  was  of  little  importance  for 
an  officer  who  had  been  appointed  general,  and  be- 
sides very  dangerous,  because  it  was  nectssnry  to  go 
in  quest  of  the  enemy  in  a  very  remote  country.  The 
king  soon  perceived  his  error,  ami  countermanded 
him:  but  Datamej  had  get  out  directly  with  a  hand- 
ful of  men,  and  marched  night  and  day.  judging  that 
diligence  alone,  and  not  a  great  number  of  troops, 
was  all  that  was  necessary  to  surprise  and  vanquish 
the  enemy.  It  happened  according  to  his  expecta- 
tion, and  the  couriers  despatched  by  the  king,  met 
Aspis  in  chains  upon  the  road  to  Susa. 

Nothing  was  talked  of  at  the  court  but  Datame*. 
No  one  knew  which  to  admire  most,  hi*  ready  obe- 
dience, his  wi-e  and  enterprising  bravery,  or  his  ex- 
traordinary success.  So  glorious  a  reputation  gave 
otlence  to  the  courtiers  in  power.  Fnemies  in  secret 
to  each  other,  and  divided  by  a  contrariety  of  inte- 
rest*, and  a  competition  in  their  pretensions,  they 
united  together  against  a  superior  merit  which  re- 
proached their  delect*,  and  was  therefore  a  crime  in 
their  acceptation.  Tney  conspired  to  ruin  him  in  the 
king's  opinion,  and  succeeded  but  too  w<  II.  As  they 
besieged  him  perpetually,  and  he  was  not  npmi  hit 
guaru  against  persons  who  appeared  so  well  allected 
to  his  service,  they  inspired  him  with  jealousy  and 
*o«picion,  against  the  most  zealous  and  faithful  of  hit 
officers. 

An  intimate  friend  of  Datames.  who  held  one  of 
the  highest  posts  at  the  court,  apprized  him  of  wh* 


380 


II  STORY  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


•vas  passing,  nnA  of  the  ;onspiracy  which  had  been 
formed  against  him, and  ',iad  already  rendered  the  king 
disaffected  towards  him.  He  represented  to  him,1 
that  if  the  Kgyptian  expedition,  with  which  he  was 
charged, should  take  a  bad  turn,  he  would  find  himself 
exposed  to  ^real  dangers:  that  it  was  the  custom  of 
kings  to  Attribute  good  successes  to  themselves  and 
their  auspicious  fortune  only,  and  to  impute  the  bad 
to  the  faults  of  their  generals,  and  to  make  them  re- 
t'tonsible  for  these  at  the  peril  of  their  heads:  that  he 
ran  the  greater  risk,  as  all  that  were  about  the  king's 
person  and  had  any  ascendant  over  him,  were  his  de- 
clared enemies,  and  had  sworn  his  destruction. 

Upon  this  advice,  Datames  resolved  to  quit  the 
king's  service,  though  without  doing  any  thing  hithe:- 
to  contrary  to  the  fidelity  which  he  owed  him.  He 
left  the  command  of  the  army  to  Mandrocles  of  Mag- 
nesia, departed  with  his  own  troops  to  Cappadocia, 
seized  Faphlagonia,  which  joined  it,  allied  himself 
secretly  with  Ariobarzanes,  raised  troops,  took  posses- 
sion of  the  fortresses,  and  put  good  garrisons  in  them. 
He  received  advice,  that  the  Pisiilians  were  arming 
against  him.  He  did  not  wait  their  attack,  but  made 
li.s  army  march  thither  under  the  command  of  his 
youngest  son,  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  killed  in 
»  battle.  However  livelv  the  father's  affliction  might 
be  upon  that  occasion,  he  concealed  his  death,  lest 
the  bud  news  should  discourage  his  troops.  When 
fte  approached  near  the  enemy,  his  first  care  was  to 
take  possession  of  an  advantageous  post.  Mithro- 
barzanes,2  his  father-in-law,  who  commanded  the 
horse,  believing  his  son  entirely  ruined,  determined 
to  go  over  to  the  enemy.  Datames,  without  concern 
or  emotion,  caused  a  rumour  to  be  spread  throughout 
Itie  army,  that  it  was  only  a  feint  concerted  between 
tiim  and  his  father-in-law,  and  followed  him  close,  as 
»f  he  designed  to  put  his  troops  into  a  disposition  for 
charging  the  enemy  in  two  different  quarters.  The 
stratagem  bad  all  the  success  he  expected  from  it. 
When  they  joined  battle,  Mithrobarzanes  was  trea- 
ted as  an  enemy  on  both  sides,  and  cut  to  pieces 
with  his  troops.  The  army  of  the  Pmdians  was  put 
to  flight,  and  left  Datames  "master  of  the  field,  and  of 
all  the  rich  booty  found  in  the  camp  of  the  conquered. 

Dalames  had  not  till  then  declared  openly  against 
the  kinsf,  the  actions  we  have  related  being  only 
against  jjovernors,  with  whom  he  might  have  parti- 
cular differences,  which,  as  we  have  observed  before, 
was  common  enough.  His  own  eldest  son,  called 
Scismas,  made  himself  his  accuser,  and  discovered 
his  whole  designs  to  the  king.  Artaxerxes  was  highly 
alarmed.  He  knew  all  the  merit  of  this  new  enemy, 
and  that  he  did  not  engage  in  any  enterprise  without 
having  maturely  considered  all  its  consequences,  aid 
taken  the  necessary  measures  to  secure  its  success; 
and  that  hitherto  the  execution  had  always  corres- 
ponded with  the  wisdom  of  his  projects.  He  sent  an 
army  against  him  into  Cappadocia  of  almost  200,000 
men,  of  which  20,000  were  horse,  all  commanded  by 
Autophradates.  The  troops  of  Datames  did  not 
amount  to  the  twentieth  part  of  the  king's;  so  that 
he  had  no  resource  but  in  himself,  the  valour  of  his 
soldiers,  and  the  happy  situation  of  the  post  he  had 
chosen.  For  in  that  consisted  his  chief  excellence; 
never  captain  having  better  known  how  to  take  his 
advantages  and  chouse  his  ground,  when  he  was  to 
draw  up  an  army  in  battle. 

His  nrniy,  as  I  have  observed,  was  far  inferior  to 
that  of  the  enemy.  He  had  posted  himself  in  a  situa- 
tion where  they  could  not  surround  him ;  where,  upon 
the  least  movement  they  made,  he  could  attack  them 
with  very  considerable  advantage;  and  where,  had 
they  resolved  to  fight.  thf»ir  odds  in  number  would 
have  been  absolutely  useless  to  them.  Autophradates 


t  nocet  cum  majno  fore  in  perirulo,  siquid.  illo  imporante, 
in  .•Ei.'viitu  uilvenii  occidis«et.  Namque  earn  esse  "iiiKue- 
ludniiMii  ri'L'win,  ut  catti*  mlvfrsun  lioniiniliut  Iribuant, 
•cciindn*  furiim*  *u*  ;  quo  facile  fieri,  ut  imprllumur  ad 
forum  |»Tnicirm,  quorum  durtu  re*  maid  £<•*!»  nuncicntur. 
Ilium  !••«•  majure  fun-  in  dUrrimnif.  I;IM"K|.  qniliui  ri'i 
maiitne  i>h«diai,  *<«  habent  inimicis»  TK«.  Or.  \ep. 

*  Diiid.l.  xv.  p  3D9. 


well  knew,  that  according  to  all  the  rules  of  Kar,  be 
ought  not  to  hazard  a  battle  in  such  a  conjuncture: 
but  he  observed  at  the  same  time,  that  it  would  be 
disgraceful  for  him,  with  so  numerous  an  army,  to 
retreat,  or  to  continue  any  longer  in  inaction  before 
a  handful  of  enemies.  He  therefore  gave  the  signal. 
The  first  attack  was  rude;  but  the  troops  of  Auto- 
phradates soon  gave  way,  and  were  entirely  routed. 
The  victor  pursued  them  for  some  lime  with  great 
slaughter.  There  were  only  1000  men  killed  oil  the 
side  of  Datames. 

Several  battles,  or  rather  skirmishes,  were  fought 
afterwards,  in  which  the  latter  was  always  victorious 
because,  perfectly  know  ing  the  country,  and  succeed- 
ing especially  in  stratagems  of  war,  he  always  posted 
himself  advantageously,  and  engaged  the  enemy  in 
difficult  ground,  from  whence  they  could  not  extri- 
cate themselves  without  loss.  Autophradates  seeing 
all  his  endeavours  ineffectual,  and  his  supplies  entirely 
exhausted,  and  despairing  of  ever  being  able  to  sub- 
ject by  force  so  artful  and  valiant  an  ennny,  suggested 
an  accommodation,  and  proposed  to  him  gihe  being 
restored  to  the  king's  favour  upon  honourable,  condi- 
tions. Datames  was  not  ignorant  that  there  was  little 
security  for  him  in  such  a  choice,  because  princes  are 
seldom  reconciled  in  earnest  with  a  subject  who  has 
failed  in  his  obedience,  and  to  whom  they  see  them 
selves  in  some  sort  obliged  to  submit.  However,  as 
despair  alone  had  hurried  him  into  the  revolt,  and 
he  had  always  retained  at  heart  sentiments  ot  zeal  and 
affection  for  his  prince,  he  joyfully  accepted  offer* 
which  would  put  an  end  to  the  violent  condition  in 
which  his  misfortune  had  engaged  him,  and  afford 
him  the  means  of  returning  to  his  duty,  and  of  em- 
ploying his  talents  for  the  service  of  the  prince  to 
whom  they  were  due.  He  promised  to  send  deputies 
to  the  king;  upon  which  ensued  a  cessation  of  arms, 
and  Autophradates  retired  into  Pbrygia,  which  was 
his  government. 

Datames  was  not  deceived.  Artaxerxes,  furiously 
enraged  against  him,  had  changed  the  esteem  and 
affection  which  he  formerly  professed  for  him,  into 
an  implacable  haired.  Finding  liimstlf  incapable  of 
conquering  him  by  force  of  arms,  he  was  not  ashamed 
to  employ  artifice  and  treachery;  means  unworthy 
every  man  of  honour,  and  how  much  more  so  of  a 
prince!  He  hired  several  murderers  to  assassinate 
him;  but  Datames  was  so  happy  as  to  escape  their 
ambuscades.  At  length  Mithridateg,  the  son  of  Ario- 
barzanes, to  whom  the  king  had  made  magnificent 
promises,  if  he  could  deliver  him  from  so  formidable 
an  enemy,  having  insinuated  himself  into  his  friend- 
ship, and  having  long  treated  him  with  all  the  marks 
of  the  most  entire  fidelity,  in  order  to  acquire,  his  con- 
fidence, took  the  advantage  of  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity when  he  was  alone,  and  stabbed  him  with  his 
sword  before  he  was  in  a  condition  to  defend  himself. 

Thus  fell  this  great  captain  in  the  snares  of  a  pre- 
tended friendship,3  who  had  always  made  it  a  point 
of  honour  to  observe  the  most  inviolable  fidelity 
towards  those  with  whom  he  had  any  engagements. 
Happy  had  he  always  piqued  himst  li  also  upon  be- 
ing as  faithful  a  subject  as  he  was  a  true  friend;  and 
if  he  had  not,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  sullied 
the  lustre  of  his  heroic  qualities  by  the  ill  use  he 
made  of  them;  which  neither  the  fear  of  disgrace, 
the  injustice  of  those,  who  envied  him,  the  ingrati- 
tude of  his  master  for  the  services  he  had  ren- 
dered him,  nor  any  other  pretext,  could  sufficiently 
authorize. 

I  am  surprised  that,  worthy  as  he  was,  from  his 
uncommon  virtues,  of  oeing  compared  to  the  great- 
est person*  of  antiquity,  his  merit  has  remained  in  a 
manner  buried  in  silence  and  oblivion.  His  great 
actions  and  exploits  are  however  worthy  of  being 
preserved  in  history.  For  it  is  in  such  small  bodies 
of  troops  as  those  of  Datames,  where  every  energy 
is  exerted,  where  prudence  directs,  and  where  chance 
has  no  share,  that  the  abilities  of  a  general  appear  in 
their  full  light. 


*  Ita  vir.  qui  nriulto*  coniilio,  nomine m  oerfidia,  centra 
limulata  captus  etl  amiruia.     Cor.  A>p 


THE 


ANCIENT  HISTORY 


or  THE 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


BOOK  IX.    CONTINUED. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

HiSTOHT   OF  SOCRATES  ABRIDGED. 

As  (lie  death  of  Sorrates  is  one  of  the  most  con- 
siderable events  of  antiquity,  I  think  it  incumbent 
on  me  to  treat  that  subject  with  all  the  extent  it 
deserves.  With  this  view  I  shall  go  somewhat  back, 
in  order  to  sjive  the  reader  a  just  idea  of  this  Prince 
of  Philosophers. 

Two  authors  will  supply  me  principally  with  what 
I  have  to  nay  upon  the  subject: — Plato  and  Xeno- 
phon,  both  disciples  of  Socrates.  It  is  to  them  that 
posterity  is  indebted  for  many  of  his  discourses  (as 
that  philosopher  left  nothing  in  writing;,')  and  for 
an  ample  account  of  all  the  circumstances  of  his 
condemnation  and  death.  Plato  was  an  eye-witness 
of  the  whole,  and  relates,  in  his  Apology,  the  man- 
ner of  Socrates'*  accusation  and  defence;  in  his 
Crito,  his  refusal  to  make  his  escape  out  of  prison; 
in  his  Phiedon.  his  admirable  discourse  'jpon  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  which  was  immediately  follow- 
ed by  his  death.  Xenophon  was  absent  at  that  time, 
and  upon  his  return  to  his  native  country,  alter  the 
expedition  of  the  younger  Cyrus  against  his  brother 
Arlaxerxes:  so  that  he  wrote  his  Apology  of  Socra- 
tes only  from  the  report  of  others;  but  his  actions 
and  discourses  in  his  four  books  of  memorable  things, 
ne  repeats  from  his  own  knowledge.  Diogenes  Laer- 
tius  has  given  us  the  life  of  Socrates,  but  in  a  very  dry 
and  abridged  manner. 

SECTION  I. — BIRTH  OF  SOCRATES.  HE  APPLIES 
AT  FIRST  TO  SCULPTURE;  THEN  TO  THF.  STUDY 
OF  THE  SCIENCES  :  HIS  WONDERFUL  PROGRESS  IN 
THEM.  HIS  TASTE  FCR  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY:  HIS 
MANNER  OF  LIVING,  AND  SUFFERINGS  FROM  THE 
ILL  HUMOUR  OF  HIS  WIFE. 

SOCRATES  was  born  at  Athens, 
A.  M.  3533.  in  the  fourth  year  of  the  seventy- 
Ant.  J.  C.  471.  seventh  Olympiad.*  His  father 
Sophroniscus.  was  a  sculptor,  and 
his  mother  Phaenarete  a  midwife.  Hence  we  may 
observe,  that  meanness  of  birth  is  no  obstacle  to  true 
merit,  in  which  alone  solid  glory  and  real  nobility 
consist.  It  appears  from  the  comparisons  which 
Socrates  often  used  in  his  discourses,  that  he  was 
neither  ashamed  of  his  father's  nor  mother's  profes- 
sion. He  was  surprised  that  a  sculptor  should  em- 
ploy his  whole  attention  to  fashion  an  insensible 
stone  into  the  likeness  of  a  man,1  and  that  a  man 
should  take  so  little  pains  not  to  resemble  an  insen- 
s'.blr  -t.uie.  He  would  often  say,*  that  he  exercised 
the  function  of  a  midwife  with  regard  to  the  mind, 
in  making  it  bring  forth  all  its  thoughts;  and  this 


<  ?<><-rd!>'s.  rujus  ingcnium  variuxque  wrmnnei  immnr- 
talilaii  srripns  guts  Plato  tradidit,  literan  nuilam  reliquit 
Cie.  de  Oral.  I.  iii.  n.  57. 

•  Pioff.  Laert.  in.  Soc.  p.  100. 

•  Piosf.  Larrt.  in  8or.  p.  110. 

•  PUt.  in  Tlieatct  p.  HK.fcc. 


was  indeed  the  peculiar  talent  of  Socrates.  He 
treated  subjects  in  so  simple,  natural,  and  clcai  an 
ordei,  that  he  made  those  with  whom  he  disputed 
say  what  he  wished,  and  tind  mi  iin-vnr  tin  in-<  U  ci 
to  all  the  questions  he  proposed  to  them.  He  at 
first  learned  his  father's  trade,  in  which  he  made 
himself  very  expert.  In  the  time  of  Pausanias.' 
there  was  a  Mercury  and  the  Graces  still  to  be  seen 
at  Athens  of  his  workmanship;  and  it  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed, these  statues  would  not  have  foun.l  a  place 
amon<r  '.hose  of  the  greatest  master*  in  the  art,  if 
they  had  not  been  thought  worthy  of  it. 

Crito  is  reported  to  have  taken  him  out  of  hit 
father's  shop,*  from  admiration  of  his  fine  genius, 
and  the  opinion  he  entertained  that  it  was  inci>ii«i«t- 
ent  for  a  youg  man,  capable  of  the  greatest  things, 
to  continue  perpetually  employed  upon  stone  with  a 
chisel  in  his  hand.  He  was  the  disciple  of  Arche- 
laus,  who  conceived  a  great  adection  for  him.  Arche- 
laus  had  been  pupil  to  Anaxagoras,  a  very  celebra- 
ted philosopher.  His  first  study  was  physics,  the 
works  of  nature,  and  the  motions  of  the  heavens, 
stars,  and  planets,  according  to  the  custom  of  those 
times,  wherein  only  that  part  of  philosophy  was 
known;  and  Xenophon  assures  us  that  he  Mas  very 
well  acquainted  with  it.7  Hut  alter  having  found,  by 
his  own  experience*  how  difficult,  abstruse,  and  intri- 
cate, and,  at  the  same  time,  of  how  little  use  that 
kind  of  learning  was  to  the  generality  of  mankind, 
he  was  the  first,  as  Cicero  remarks,  who  conceived 
the  thought  of  bringing  down  philosophy  from  hea- 
ven, to  place  it  in  cities,  and  introduce  it  into  pri- 
vate houses;  humanizing  it,  if  1  mav  use  that  ex- 
pression, and  rendering  it  more  familiar,  more  use- 
lul  in  common  life,  more  within  the  reach  of  man's 
rapacity,  and  applying  it  solely  to  what  might 
make  them  more  rational,  just,  and  virtuous.  He 
thought  it  was  a  sort  of  folly  to  devote  the  whole 
vivacny  of  his  mind,*  and  employ  all  1m  time,  in 
inquiries  merely  curious,  and  involved  in  impene- 
trable darkness,  and  absolutely  incapable  of  contri- 
buting to  the  happiness  of  mankind;  whilst  he  ne- 
glected to  inform  himself  in  the  ordinary  duties  o( 
life,  and  to  learn  what  is  conformable,  or  opposite 
to  piety,  justice,  and  probity;  in  what  fortitude, 
temperance,  and  wisdom  consist  ;  what  is  the  end 
of  all  government,  what  the  rules  of  it,  and  what 
qualities  are  necessary  for  command  ing  and  ruling 


•  Paui.  I.  it.  p  5'*i.  •  Piog.  p.  101. 
'  Lib.  iv.  Memnrab.  p.  710, 

•  Socrates  primus  philoiuipliiam  rlovocavit  e  ra-lo,  ut  in  ur- 
bilms  roiii>ca\it.  ri  in  doniiu.  ciium  inlrmJuxit.  et  cot-i-ii  cm 
»na (I  morihua.  rchusque  buni«  ct  mulis  ijuarrere.   Of.  7'»*e. 
Q*<rjt.  I.  v.  n    10. 

Socrates  milii  videtur.  id  qnnd  ronntat  inter  nmn<-«.  primnt 
a  rt'luisorrultis.  et  ah  ip*a  nature,  invulutin.  in  <|uil>u*  «inv 
oei  ante  eum  pliiliwophi  urcupnti  fucrunt.  avocat.sse  philn- 
sophiarp,  et  ad  »ham  cuminum-m  »ilduxi»«e:  ul  de  virtull- 
bvK  et  vilin,  omninoque  de  bun  is  rrbii*  et  nmlis  qun  r.  r,  t  ; 
ccflestia  aulem  vi-l  pr.x:ul  ense  a  nrwtrH  rogniiiunr  wnwret. 
Tel  si  maximfe  rosnira  enwrit.  nihil  tamon  ad  bens  vivenduai 
conferre.  Cie.  Jicad.  Qurtt  I.  i.  n.  15 

•  Xenoph.  Memorab.  I.  i.  p  710. 

381 


382 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


well.  We  shall  see  in  the  sequel  the  use  he  made  of 
this  study. 

It  was  so  far  from  preventing  his  discharging  the 
duties  of  a  good  citizen,  that  it  was  the  means  of  mak- 
ing him  the  more  observant  of  them.  He  bore  arms, 
as  did  all  the  people  of  Athens;  but  with  more  pure 
ind  elevated  motives.  He  made  many  campaign?, 
was  present  in  many  actions,  and  always  distinguish- 
ed himself  by  his  valour  and  fortitude.  He  was  seen, 
towards  the  end  of  his  life,  giving  in  the  senate,  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  the  most  shining  proofs  of 
his  zeal  for  justice,  without  being  intimidated  by  the 
greatest  present  dangers. 

He  had  accustomed  himself  early  to  a  sober,  se- 
vere, laborious  life;  without  which  it  seldom  hap- 
pens, that  men  are  capable  of  discharging  the  great- 
est part  of  the  duties  of  good  citizens.  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  carry  the  contempt  of  riches  and  the  love  of 
poverty  farther  than  he  did.  He  looked  upon  it  as 
a  divine  perfection  to  be  in  want  of  nothing:1  and  be- 
lieved, that  the  less  we  are  contented  with,  the  near- 
er we  approach  to  the  Divinity.  Seeing  the  pomp 
and  show  displayed  by  luxury  in  certain  ceremonies,? 
and  the  infinite  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  employed 
in  them:  "  How  many  things,"  said  he, congratulating 
himself  on  his  condition,  "do  I  not  wantl" — Qtiati- 
ti*  nnnegeo! 

His  father  left  him  fourscore  minae.3  that  is  to  say, 
about  two  hundred  pounds,  which  he  lent  to  one  of 
his  friends  who  had  occasion  for  that  sum.  But  the 
affairs  of  that  friend  having  taken  an  ill-turn,  he  lost 
the  whole,  and  suffered  that  misfortune  with  such 
indifference,  and  tranquillity,  that  he  did  not  so  much 
as  compl.iiii  of  it.  We  find  in  Xenophon's  (Econo- 
mics,* that  his  whole  estate  amounted  to  no  more 
than  five  minae,  or  twelve  pounds.  The  richest  per- 
sons of  Athens  were  among  his  friends,  who  could 
never  prevail  upon  him  to  accept  any  share  of  their 
wealth.  When  he  was  in  want  of  any  thing,  he 
was  not  ashamed  to  declare  it:  "  If  I  had  money,"8 
said  he,  one  day  in  an  assembly  of  friends, "  I  should 
buy  me  a  cloak."  He  did  not  address  himself  to  any 
body  in  particular,  but  contented  himself  with  that 

feneral  information.  His  disciples  contended  for  the 
onour  of  making  him  this  small  present;  which  was 
being  too  slow,  says  Seneca;  their  own  observation 
ought  to  have  anticipated  both  the  want  and  the 
demand. 

He  generously  refused  the  offers  and  presents  of 
Archelaus,  king  of  Macedonia,  who  was  desirous  of 
having  him  at  his  court;  adding,  that  he  could  not 
go  to  a  man  who  could  give  him  more  than  it  was  in 
his  power  to  return.  Another  philosopher  does  not 
approve  this  answer.  "  Would  it  have  been  making 
a  prince  a  small  return,"  says  Seneca,  "to  undeceive 
him  in  his  false  ideas  of  grandeur  and  magnificence; 
to  inspire  him  with  a  contempt  for  riches;  to  show 
him  the  right  use  of  them;  to  instruct  him  in  the 
great  art  of  reigning;  in  a  word,  to  teach  him  how  to 
live,  and  how  to  die?  But."  continues  Seneca,  "the 
true  reason  which  prevented  his  going  to  the  court 
of  that  prince,  wan,  that  he  did  not  think  it  consis- 
tent for  him  to  seek  a  voluntary  servitude,  whose  li- 
berty even  a  free  city  could  not  tolerate."  JVbluii 
ire  ad  volnntariam  servilntnm  is  cujui  liberlalem 
eivilas  liberafcrre  non  potuitf  , 

The  peculiar  austerity  of  his  life  did  not  render 
him  gloomy  and  morose.7  as  was  common  enough 
with  the  philosophers  of  those  times.  In  company 
•nd  conversation  he  was  always  gay  and  facetious,8 
"id  the  life  and  soul  of  the  entertainment.  Though 

»  Xcnnph.  Mi-morah.  I.  i    p.  731. 

•  Socrates  in  pumpa.  cum  ma<;na  T!S  nuri  arpontiquc  fer- 
retur  ;Quam  multa  non  dcsidrio,  inquil  t  Cie.  Tune.  Quart. 
1.  v. 

•  Libnn.in  Apoloif.  Soorat.  p.  640. 
«  Xenoph.  (Econ.  p.  t-Vi. 

•  Sorralen  amirU  audifntihus  :  Emiiwcrn,  inquit.  pallium, 
«i  nummoa  habvrem.     Neminem  popogcit,  omncs  admonuit. 
A   quo  arriprrrt,  ambitus    fuit.  —  Post   hoc   quixnuM    pro- 

rrnvrnt.  »er6  d  t  ;  jam  Sorrnti  defuit.     Senec.  de  Benef. 
vii  r.24. 

•  Srnr-c.  dp  Beiwf.  I.  v.  c.  6.  Xenoph.  in  Conriy. 

•  yElian.  I.  iv.  c.  11.  and  I.  iz.  c  35. 


he  was  very  poor,  he  piqued  himself  upon  th*  neat* 
ness  of  his  person  and  house,  and  could  not  ciidur* 
the  ridiculous  affectation  of  Antisthenes,  who  al 
ways  wore  dirty  and  ragged  clothes.  He  told  him 
once,  that  through  the  holes  in  his  cloak,  and  the 
rest  of  his  tatters,  abundance  of  vanity  might  be 
discerned. 

One  of  the  most  distinguishing  qualities  of  Socrates, 
was  a  tranquillity  of  soul,  that  no  accident,  no  loss,  no 
injury,  no  ill  treatment,  could  ever  aker.  Some  have 
believed,  that  he  was  by  nature  hasty  and  passionate, 
and  that  the  moderation,  to  which  he  had  attained, 
was  the  effect  of  his  reflections,  and  of  the  eflorts  he 
had  made  to  subdue  and  correct  himself;  which  would 
still  add  to  his  merit.  Seneca  tells  us,9  that  he  had 
desired  his  triendg  to  apprize  him  whenever  they  saw 
him  ready  to  tall  into  a  passion,  and  that  he  had  given, 
them  that  privilege  over  him,  which  he  took  himself 
with  them.  Indeed,  the  best  time  to  call  in  aid 
against  a  passion,  which  lias  so  violent  and  sudden 
a  power  over  us,  is  when  we  are  yet  ourselves, 
and  in  cool  blood.10  At  the  first  signal,  the  least 
hint,  he  either  softened  his  tone,  or  was  silent.  Find 
ing  himself  exasperated  against  a  slave,  I  would  beat 
you,  says  he,  if  I  were  not  angry. —  Ctederem  te,  nisi 
irascerer.lt  Having  received  a  box  on  the  ear,  ho 
contented  himself  with  only  saying,  with  a  smile, 
//  is  a  misfortune  not  to  Know  when  to  put  on  a 
helmet.™ 

Without  going  out  of  his  own  house,  he  found 
enough  to  exercise  his  patience  in  all  its  extent, 
Xantippe,  his  wife,  put  it  to  the  severest  proofs  liy 
her  capricious,  passionate,  violent  disposition,  ft 
seems  that,  before  he  took  her  for  his  companion,  he 
was  not  ignorant  of  her  character;  and  he  says  him- 
self in  Xenophon,  that  he  had  expressly  chosen 
her,13  from  the  conviction,  that  if  he  should  be  capa- 
ble of  bearing  her  insults  there  would  be  nobody, 
though  ever  so  difficult  to  endure,  with  whom  he 
could  not  live.  If  this  was  the  view  with  which  he 
married  her,  it  was  certainly  fully  answered.  Never 
was  a  woman  of  so  violent  and"  fantastical  a  spirit. 
and  so  bad  a  temper.  There  was  no  kind  of  abuse 
or  injurious  treatment,  which  he  had  not  to  experi- 
ence from  her.  She  would  sometimes  be  transpor- 
ted with  such  an  excess  of  rage,  as  to  tear  off  his 
cloak  in  the  open  street;1*  and  even  one  day,  alter 
having  vented  all  the  reproaches  her  fury  could  sug 
gest,  she  emptied  a  pot  of  foul  water  upon  his  head1 
at  which  he  only  laughed,  and  said,  That  so  much 
thunder  must  needs  produce  a  shower. 

Some  ancient  authors  write,  that  Socrates  marrierf 
a  second  wife,"  named  Myrto,  who  was  the  grand 
daughter  of  Aristides  the  Just,  and  that  he  suffered 
exceedingly  from  them  both,  as  they  were  continually 
quarrelling  with  each  other,  and  never  agreed,  but  in 
loading  him  with  reproaches,  and  offering  him  tlia 
grossest  insults.  They  pretend  that,  during  the  Pe- 
loponnesian  war,  after  the  pestilence  had  swept  oft 
great  part  of  the  Athenians,  a  decree  was  made, 
whereby,  to  retrieve  the  sooner  the  ruins  of  the  re- 
public, each  citiien.was  permitted  to  have  two  wives 
at  the  same  time,  and  that  Socrates  took  the  benefit 
of  this  new  law.  Those  authors  found  this  circum- 
stance solely  upon  a  passage  in  a  treatise  on  nobility, 
ascribed  to  Aristotle.  But,  besides  that,  according  to 
Plutarch  himself,  Panaetius,  a  very  grave  author,  haa 
fully  refuted  this  opinion,  neither  Plato  nor  Xeno- 
phon, who  were  well  acquainted  with  all  that  related 
to  their  master,  say  any  thing  of  this  second  mar- 
riage of  Socrates;  and,  on  another  side,  Thucydides. 
Xenophon,  and  Diodorus  Siculus,  who  have  treated 
at  large  all  the  particulars  of  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
are  alike  silent  in  regard  to  the  pretended  decree  of 
Athens,  which  permitted  bigamy.  We  may  see,  in 


•  Senec.  do  Ira,  1.  iii.  c.  15. 

'•  Contra  poteni  malum,  et  apud  no*  gratiosum,  dam 
eongpicimoR,  et  mwtri  lumut,  advucema?. 

11  S-n.-r.  <!-•  Ira.  I.  i.  c.  15.  >•  Ibid.  1.  iii.  c.  11. 

»  Xen.  in  Conviv.  p.  87(5. 

>•  Diog.  in  Socrat.  p.  112. 

»  Plut.  in  Aristid.  p.  335.  Atben.  1.  xiii.  p.  555.  Diog. 
Laert.  in  Socrat.  p.  105. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


383 


the  first  volume  of  the  memoirs  of  the  Academy  of 
Belles  I.t  tin -,  a  dissertation  of  Monsieur  Hardion's 
upon  this  subject;  wherein  he  demonstrates,  that  the 
second  marriage  of  Socrates,  a'ld  the  decree  respect- 
ing bigamy,  are  supposititious  facts. 

SECTION     II.  — OF    THE     DAEMON,    OR    FAMIIJAR 
SI'IRIT    OK  SOCRATE2. 

OUR  knowledge  of  Socrates  would  be  defective  if 
we  knew  nothing  of  the  Genius,  which  he  pretended, 
assisted  him  with  its  counsel  and  protection  in  the 
greatest  part  of  his  actions.  It  is  not  agreed  amongst 
authors  what  this  Genius  was.  common!)  called,  'Ike 
Dcumon  of  Socrates,  from  the  Greek  word  A».^.».o», 
that  signifies  something  of  a  divine  nature,  conceived 
•s  a  secret  voice,  a  sign,  or  such  an  inspiration  as 
diviners  are  supposed  to  have  had:  this  Genius 
dissuaded  him  from  the  execution  of  his  designs 
win  n  they  would  have  been  prejudicial  to  him,  with- 
out ever  inducing  him  to  undertake  any  action: 
Essc  divinnm  ijitoJJam,  ijuod  Socrates  utemonium 
ajijicllat,  citi  temper  i/isi ]iariicrit,nnnqitam  impelltn- 
ti,  sttpc  rcvocanli.1  Plutarch,2  in  his  treatise,  enti- 
tled (If  lite  Gtnius  of  Socrates,  relates  the  different 
tenti  incuts  of  the  ancients  concerning  the  existence 
and  nature  of  this  Genius.  I  shall  confine  myself  to 
that  .vhich  seems  the  most  natural  and  reasonable 
of  them  all,  though  he  does  not  lay  much  stress 
upon  it. 

\Ve  know  that  the  Divinity  alone  has  a  clear  and 
unerring  knowledge  of  futurity:  that  man  cannot 
penetrate,  into  its  darkness  but  by  uncertain  and  con- 
fused conjectures:  that  those  who  succeed  be?t  in 
that  research,  are  such,  as  by  a  more  exact  and  stu- 
died comparison  of  the  dillerent  causes  capable  of 
Influencing  future  events,  discern  with  greater  force 
and  perspicuity,  what  will  be  the  result  and  issue  of 
the  conflict  of  those  different  causes  in  conducing  to 
the  success  or  miscarriage  of  an  effect  or  enterprise. 
This  foresight  and  discernment  has  something  of  di- 
vine in  it,  exalts  us  above  the  rest  of  mankind,  ap- 
proximates us  to  the  Divinity,  and  makes  us  parti- 
cipate in  some  measure  in  his  counsels,  and  designs, 
b\  giving  u.s  an  insight  and  foreknowledge,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  of  what  he  has  ordained  concerning  the 
future.  Socrates  hud  a  just  and  piercing  judgment, 
joined  with  the  mo-t  exquUite  prudence.  He  might 
call  this  judgment  &*tfi-nt*, something  divine,  using 
indeed  a  kind  of  equivocal  expression,  without  attri- 
buting to  himself,  however,  the  merit  due  to  his  wis- 
dom in  forming  conjecture*  with  regard  to  the  fu- 
ture. The  Abbe  Fraguier  comes  very  near  the  same 
opinion  in  the  dissertation  he  has  left  upon  this 
subject  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of  Belle* 
Lett  res.* 

The  effect,*  or  rather  function,  of  this  Genius,  was 
to  stop  and  prevent  his  actinsr  without  ever  inducing 
him  to  act.  He  received  also  the  same  imptiUe, 
when  his  friends  were  going  to  engage  in  any  unluc- 
ky allsiir,  which  they  communicated  to  him;  and  se- 
veral instances  are  related,  wherein  they  found  them- 
selves under  much  inconvenience  from  not  having 
believed  him.  Now  what  other  signification  can  be 
given  to  this,  than  that  it  implies,  under  mysterious 
terms,  a  mind,  which,  by  it*  own  lights,  and  the 
knowledge  of  mankind,  has  attained  a  sort  of  insight 
into  futurity?  And  if  Socrates  had  not  intended  to 
les-i  n  in  his  own  person  the  merit  of  an  unerring 
judgment,  by  attributing  it  to  a  kind  of  instinct;  if 
at  bottom  he  had  desired  any  thing  to  be  under- 
stood, besides  the  general  aid  of  the  divine  wisdom, 
which  speaks  in  every  man  by  the  voice  of  reason; 
would  he  have  escaped,  fays  Xcnophon,  the  imputa- 
tion of  arrogance  and  falsehood'?5 

God  has  always  prevented  me  from  upeaking  to 
you,'  says  he  to  Alcibiades,  whilst  the  tenderness  of 
your  age  wouid  have  rendered  my  discourses  of  no 
utility  to  you.  But  I  conceive  I  may  now  enter  into 
«  dispute  with  you,  as  an  ambitious  young  man,  for 


i  fie.  de  Divin.i.  i.  n.  122.  »  Pajr.  5HO. 

i  Tom.  iv  p.  308.  4  Plat.  in.Theag.  p.  128. 

>  Memorub  I.  i.  p.  708.  •  Flat,  in  Alcib.  p.  150. 


whom  the  laws  open  a  way  to  the  dignities  of  the 
republic. — Is  it  not  visible  here,  that  prudence  pre 
vented  Socrates  from  conversing  seriously  with  Alci- 
biades  at  a  time  when  grave  and  serious  conversation 
would  have  given  him  a  disgust,  of  which  he  might 
perhaps  never  have  got  (he  better?  And  when,7  in 
the  dialogue  upon  the  Republic,  Socrates  ascribes  his 
avoiding  public  business  to  inspiration  from  above, 
does  he  mean  any  thing  more  than  what  he  savs  in 
his  Apology,  that  a  just  and  good  man,  who,  in  a 
corrupt  state,  intermeddles  with  the  government,  is 
not  lung  without  perishing?  If  win  n  he  was  go- 
ing to  appear  before  the  judges  that  were,  to  con- 
demn him,1  that  divine  voice  does  not  make  il-<  If 
heard  to  prevent  him,  as  it  was  accustomed  to  do  up- 
on dangerous  occasions,  the  reason  is,  that  he  did 
not  de«  in  it  a  misfortune  for  him  to  die,  especially 
at  his  age,  and  in  his  circumstances.  Every  body 
knows  what  his  prognostication  had  been  long  be- 
fore, with  respect  to  the  unfortunate  expedition 
of  Sicily.  He  attributed  it  to  his  daemon,  and  de- 
clared it  to  be  the  inspiration  of  that  spirit.  A 
wise  man,  who  sees  an  atiair  ill  conceited,  p.nd 
conducted  with  precipitation,  may  easily  prophesy 
the  event  of  it,  without  the  aid  of  a  daemon's  in- 
spiration. 

It  must  be  allowed,  however,  that  the  opinion 
which  gives  to  men,  genii  and  augels  to  direct  and 
guide  them,  was  not  unknown  even  to  the  Pagans. 
I'lutarch  cites  some  verses  of  Menander,9  in  which 
that  poet  expressly  says,  "  That  every  man  at  bis 
birth  has  a  good  Genius  given  him,  which  attends 
him  during  the  whole  course  of  his  life  as  a  guide 
and  director." 


»A 


It  may  be  believed  with  probability  enough,  that 
the  Daemon  of  Socrates,  which  has  been  so  different- 
ly spoken  of  as  to  make  it  a  question  whether  it  was 
a  good  or  bad  angel,  was  no  more  than  the  force  and 
rectitude  of  his  judgment,  which,  acting  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  prudence,  and  with  the  aid  of 
a  long  experience,  supported  by  wise  reflections, 
made  him  foresee  the  events  of  those  t hints,  upon 
which  he  was  either  consulted,  or  deliberated  him- 
self. 

I  conceive,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  was  notrarry 
the  people  should  believe  him  inspired,  or  that  his 
acquaintance  with  futurity  was  the  eflect  oi  a  divini- 
ty, whatsoever  that  might  be.  That  opinion  might 
exalt  him  very  much  in  the  minds  of  the  Athenians, 
and  give  him  an  authority,  of  which  it  is  well  known 
that  the  greatest  persons  of  the  Pagan  world  were 
very  fond,10  and  which  they  endeavoured  to  acquire 
by  secret  communications,  and  pretended  conferen- 
ces with  some  divinity:  but  it  likewise  drew  the 
jealousy  of  many  of  the  citizens  upon  him. 

SECTION    III. — SOCRATES  DECLARED  THE  WISEST 
OFIMAMU.ND  BY  THE  ORACLE  OF  DELPHI. 

THIS  declaration  of  the  oracle,"  so  advantageous 
in  appearance  for  Socrates,  did  not  a  little  contribute 
to  the  inflaming  envy,  and  stirring  tin  of  enemies 
ngainat  him,  as  ne  tells  us  himself  in  his  Apology, 
wherein  he  recounts  the  occasion,  and  true  meaning, 
of  that  oracle. 

Chaerephon,  a  zealous  disciple  of  Socrates.  ha|v 
pening  to  be  at  Delphi,  demanded  of  the  oracle, 
whether  there  was  a  wiser  man  than  Socrates  in  the 
world:  the  priestess  replied,  there  was  none  This 
answer  puzzled  Socrates  extremely,  and  he  could 


»  Lib.  vi.  de  Rep.  p.  496.    Apolog.  Son.  p.  31,  32. 

•  Apolog.  SCKV  p.  40,  »  De  anim.  tranquil,  p.  474. 

'•  Lycurgun  and  Solon  had  recourse  to  the  authority  of 
oracles  to  advance  their  credit.  Zateuciu  pretended,  that 
his  law«  had  been  dictated  to  him  by  Minerva  Nurom 
Pompilius  Ixiufted  his  conference*  with  the  Amities*  Eifrria. 
The  first  Scipio  Africanu*  made  tin  people  lirlkvc  that  th« 
pod*  pave  h>m  «eeret  eomuebj.  EVJII  Scrtonoui1*  hind 
had  something  divine  in  it. 

11  Plat,  in  Apolog.  p.  21, 22 


384 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


ii  arce  comprehend  the  meaning  of  it.  For,  on  the 
one  side,  he  well  knew,  says  he  of  himself,  that 
there  was  no  wisdom  in  him,  neither  little  nor  great; 
and.  on  the  other,  he  could  not  suspect  the  oracle  of 
falsehood,  the  divinity  being  incapable  of  telling  a 
lie.  He  therefore  considered  it  attentively,  and  took 
great  pains  to  penetrate  the  meaning  of  it.  At  first 
re  applied  himself  to  a  powerful  citizen,  a  states- 
man, and  a  great  politician,  who  passed  for  one  of 
the  wisest  men  of  the  city,  and  who  was  himself  still 
more  convinced  of  his  own  merit  than  others.  He 
found  by  his  conversation  that  he  knew  nothing, 
and  insinuated  as  much  to  him  in  terms  sufficiently 
intelligible;  which  made  him  extremely  odious  to 
thai  citizen,  and  all  who  were  present.  He  did  the 
lame  by  several  others  of  the  same  profession,  and 
all  the  fruit  of  his  inquiry  was,  to  draw  upon  himself 
a  greater  number  of  enemies.  From  the  statesman 
he  addressed  himself  to  the  poets,  whom  he  found 
Ktill  fuller  of  self-esteem,  but  really  more  void  of 
knowledge  and  wisdom.  He  pursued  his  inquiries 
to  the  artizans,  and  could  not  meet  with  one,  who, 
because  he  succeeded  in  his  own  art,  did  not  believe 
himself  very  capable  and  fully  informed  in  all  other 
points  of  the  greatest  consequence;  which  presump- 
tion wa»  the  almost  universal  failing  of  the  Athe- 
nians. As  they  had  naturally  abundance  of  wit, 
they  pretended  to  know  every  thing,  and  believed 
themselves  capable  of  pronouncing  upon  all  mat- 
ters. His  inquiries  amongst  strangers  were  not  more 
successful. 

Socrates  afterwards  entering  into  and  comparing 
himself  with  all  those  he  had  questioned,  discovered,1 
that  the  difference  between  him  and  them  was,  that 
they  all  believed  they  knew  what  they  did  not  know, 
and  that,  for  his  part,  he  sincerely  avowed  his  igno- 
rance. From  thence  he  concluded,  that  GOD  alone 
if  truly  wise,  and  that  the  true  meaning  of  his  oracle 
was  to  signify,  that  all  human  wisdom  was  no  great 
matter,  or,  to  speak  more  properlv,  was  nothing  at 
all.  And  as  to  the  oracle's  naming  me,  it  no  doubt 
did  so,  says  he,  by  way  of  setting  me  up  for  an  exam- 
ple, as  if  it  intended  to  declare  to  all  men,  The 
wisest  amongst  you  is  he.  who  knows,  like  Socrates, 
that  there  is  no  real  wisdom  in  him. 

SECTION  IV. — SOCRATES  DEVOTES  HIMSELF  EN- 
TIREI.Y  TO  THE  INSTRUCTION  OF  THE  YOUTH  OF 
ATHENS.  AFFECTION  OF  HIS  DISCIPLES  FOR  HIM. 
THK  ADMIRABLE  PRINCIPLES  WITH  WHICH  HE 
INSPIRES  THEM,  BOTH  WITH  RESPECT  TO  GOV- 
ERNMENT AND  RELIGION. 

AFTER  having  related  some  particularities  in  the 
life  of  Socrates,  it  is  time  to  proceed  to  that  in  which 
nis  character  principally  and  peculiarly  consisted  ;  I 
mean,  the  pains  he  took  to  instruct  mankind,  and 
particularly  to  form  the  youth  of  Athens. 

He  seemed,  says  Libatiius,"  the  common  father  of 
the  republic,  so  attentive  was  he  to  the  happiness 
and  advantage  of  all  his  countrymen.  But  as  it  is 
very  difficult  to  correct  the  aged,  and  to  make  peo- 
ple change  principles,  who  revere  the  errors  in  which 
they  have  grown  gray,  he  devoted  his  labours  princi- 
pally to  the  instruction  of  youth,  in  order  to  sow  the 
seeds  of  virtue  in  a  soil  more  fit  to  produce  the  fruits  j 
of  it. 

He  liad  no  open  school  like  the  rest  of  the  philoso- 
phers,' nor  set  limes  for  his  lessons.  He  had  no 
benches  prepared,  nor  ever  mounted  a  professor's 
chair.  He  was  the  philosopher  of  all  times  and  sea- 
sons. He  taught  in  all  places,  and  upon  all  occa- 
sions; in  walking,  conversation,  at  meals,  in  the  ar- 
my, and  in  the  midst  of  the  camp,  in  the  public  as- 


i  Sorratei  in  omnibui  fcr6  wrmonibus  sic  dinputat,  at  ' 
nihil  atnrmrl  i;i<c,  refrllul  alios;  nihil  w  ncire  dicat.  nidi  id 
ip'uin.  clique  pr«»lare  weteria,  qudd  illi.  quie  neiriant,  gc.ire 
in  purcr.t;  i|we  se  nihil  tciru  id  unum  nciat,  ob  eam<|ue 
rvm  sf  iirtiitrari  ab  Apolline  omnium  Rapientigaimum  esse 
dirtuii.  quod  li«c  ?mp<  una  omnix  rapicntia,  non  arbitrari 
•e  noire  iiu-xi  nesriat.  Cic.  Ac  ad.  Quo-si.  1.  i.  n.  15.  16. 

*  In  A|K>|.  Socrat.  p.  641. 

t'lut.  un  scui  sit  get.  rcip.  p.  706. 


semblies  of  the  senate  or  people,  in  prison  itself,  ami 
when  he  drank  the  poison,  he  philosophize-.!,  savi 
Plutarch,  and  instructed  mankind.  And  irom  tin  nre 
the  same  judiciou^author  takes  occasion  to  establish 
a  great  principle  on  the  subject  of  government,  which 
Seneca  before  had  placed  in  its  full  light.*  To  be  a 
public  man,  says  he,  it  \»  not  necessary  to  he  actually 
in  office,  to  wear  the  robe  of  judge  or  niagi-trate 
and  to  sit  in  the  highest  tribunals  tor  the  admtmstra 
tion  of  justice.  Many  do  this,  who,  though  honour- 
ed with  the  fine  names  of  oiators,  praetors,  ami  sena- 
tors, if  they  want  the  merit  of  those  characters, 
ought  to  be  regarded  as  private  person?,  and  often 
deserve  to  be  confounded  with  the  lowest  and  vilest 
of  the  populace.  But  whoever  knows  how  to  £ive 
wise  counsel  to  those  who  consult  him,  t  >  rininnte 
the  citizens  to  virtue,  and  to  inspire  them  with  s»  nti- 
ments  of  probity,  equity,  generosity,  and  love  of 
their  country;  such  a  man,  says  Plutarch,  is  the  true 
magistrate  and  ruler,  in  whatsoever  condition  or 
place  he  be. 

Such  was  Socrates.  The  services  he  did  the 
state,  by  the  instructions  he  gave  their  yontlt,  and 
the  disciples  he  formed,  are  inexpressibly  <jr»  at. 
Never  had  master  a  greater  number,  nor  more  llus- 
trious.  Had  Plato  been  the  only  one.  he  would  be 
worth  a  multitude.  Upon  the  point  of  d*atli  he 
blessed  and  thanked  God  for  three  tljn^s:5  that  he 
had  endowed  him  with  a  rational  soul,  that  he  was 
born  a  Greek,  and  not  a  barbarian,  and  thai  he 
had  placed  his  birth  in  the  life-time  of  Socrates. 
Xenophon  had  the  same  advantage.*  It  is  said,  that 
one  dav  Socrates  met  him  in  the  street,  and  stopping 
him  with  his  staff,  asked  him  whether  he  km  w  were 
provisions  were  soldi  It  was  not  difficult  to  answer 
this  question.  But  Socrates  having  demanded  in 
what  place  men  learned  virtue,  and  seeing  this  se- 
cond question  put  him  to  a  stand:  "If  you  desire  to 
know  it,"  continued  the  philosopher,  "  follow  me, 
and  you  shall  be  informed."  Which  he  did  immedi- 
ately, and  was  afterwards  the  first  who  collected  and 
published  his  master'*  discourses. 

Aristippu.*,7  upon  a  conversation  with  Ischoma- 
chus,  in  which  he  had  introduced  some  strokes  of 
Socrates'  doctrine,  conceived  so  ardent  a  p;<~*i  in  to 
become  his  disciple,  that  he  grew  lean  and  wan  in 
consequence  of  it,  till  he  coufd  go  to  the  fountain 
head,  and  imbibe  hi"  fill  of  a  philosophy,  that  taught 
the  knowledge  of  evil,  and  its  cure. 

What  is  reported  of  Euclid  the  Megarian,  explains 
still  better  how  high  the  eagerness  of  Socnitts'  dis- 
ciples ran,  to  receive  the  benefit  of  his  instructions- 
There  was  at  that  time  an  open  war  between  Athens 
and  Megara,*  which  was  carried  on  itilh  so  much 
animosity,  (hat  the  Athenians  obliged  their  generals 
to  take  an  oath  to  lay  waste  the  territory  of  Megara 
twice  a  year,  and  prohibited  the  Megarian*  t  >  set 
foot  in  Attica  u|K>n  pain  of  death.  This  decree 
could  not  extinguish  nor  suspend  the  zeal  of  F.urlid. 
He  left  his  city  in  the  evening  in  the  disguise  of  a 
woman,  wilh  a  veil  upon  his  head,  and  came  to  the 
house  of  Socrates  in  the  night,  where  he  cnntiiried 
till  the  approach  of  day,  when  he  returned  in  the 
same  manner  he  came. 

The  ardour  of  the  young  Athenians  to  follow  him 
was  incredible.  They  left  father  and  mother,  and 


«  Habet  ubi  se  etiam  in  private  Ial8  explicet  ma^nci 
animus — Ita  delituerit  fvir  ille)  ut  ubicunqun  otium  «uum 
•baconderit,  prode«»e  vclit  et  finjjulis  et  nniversia.  in^fiiio, 
»ore,  concilio.  Nee  enim  is  wilus  reip.  proclest,  qui  can- 
didatiM  extrahit,  et  tuetur  reo»,  et  de  pace  bellnque  renset, 
Red  qui  juventutem  ezhorlatur.  qui  in  lanta  bonnruin  pra»- 
ceptnrum  inopia  virtute  instruit  animus,  qui  ail  jD'cnniam 
luxuriamque  cursu  rucntes  prenaat  nc  reirahit,  et  si  nihil 
aliud.  cerid  monitor,  in  prirato  publirum  nejrotium  asil. 
An  ille  plus  praxlat.  qui  inter  peregrinos  et  rives,  nut  ur 
lianus  pra?!or  adeuntibus  assessor!*  verba  pronunciat  ; 
quam  qui  iloret.  quid  8it  jusiitia,  quid  pietas,  quid  pnlien- 
tia,  quid  fortitmlu,  quid  morn*  comemptu*,  quid  deorum 
intellect  u«,  quam  graluitum  bonum  sit  conscientia  1  Senee 
de  trnnq'iil.  nnim.  c.  iii. 

§  Plui.  in  Mario,  p.  433.          •  Diog.  in  Xenoph.  p   120. 

'  Pint,  de  curios,  p.  516.          •  Plut.  in  Perir.  p.  lf«8. 

•  Aul.  Gel.  Noct.  Att.  1.  vi.  e.  10. 


PERSIANS  ANTL  GRECIANS 


3S5 


renounced  all  parties  of  pleasure,  to  attach  themselves 
to  him,  and  to  hear  his  discourses.  We  may  judge 
of  this  by  the  example  of  Alcihiades,  the  ino-t  ar- 
dent and  tierv  of  all  the  Athenians.  The  philoso- 
pher, however,  never  spared  him,  and  was  always 
careful  to  calm  the  sallies  of  his  pansions,  and  to  re- 
buke Ins  pride  which  was  his  great  disease.  I  have 
before  related  some  instances  of  this  temper  of  his. 
One  day  when  Alcibiades  was  boasting  of  his  wealth,1 
and  the  great  elates  in  his  possession  (tor  this  it  is 
which  generally  puff's  up  the  pride  of  young  people 
of  quality,)  he  carried  him  to  a  geographical  map, 
and  asked  him  to  find  Attica.  It  was  so  small  it 
rould  scarcely  be  discerned  upon  that  draught;  he 
found  it,  however,  though  with  some  difficulty;  but 
upon  being  desired  to  point  out  his  own  estate  there, 
"  It  is  too  small,"  says  he,  "  to  be  distinguished  in 
so  little  a  spare." — "  See  then,"  replied  Socrates, 
•  what  consequence  you  attach  to  an  imperceptible 
•pot  of  land."  Tbii  reasoning  might  have  been  ur- 
ged much  farther  s'.ill.  For  what  was  Alticf.  compar- 
ed to  all  Greece,  Gruece  to  Europe,  Europe  to  the 
whole  world,  and  the  world  itself  to  the  vast  extent 
of  the  infinite  orbs  \vaich  surround  it?  What  an  in- 
sect, what  a  nothing,  it  the  most  powerful  prince  of 
the  earth  in  the  initial  of  this  abyss  of  bodies  and 
immense  spaces,  and  what  a  portion  of  it  does  he  oc- 
cupy ! 

The  young  p'-oi/te  of  Athens,  dazzled  with  the 
glory  of  The niiftocles,  Cimon,  and  Pericles,  and  full 
of  a  wild  ambition,  after  having  received  for  some 
time  the  lessons  of  the  sophists,  who  promised  to 
make  them  very  great  politicians,  conceived  them- 
selves c«»pib!e  of  every  thing,  and  aspired  at  the 
highest  employments.  t)ne  of  these,*  named  Glauco, 
had  tak^-n  it  so  strongly  into  his  head  to  enter  upon 
the  administration  of  the  public  affairs,  though  not 
yet  twenty  years  old,  that  none  of  his  family  or 
friends  were  able  to  divert  him  from  a  design  so  lit- 
tle suited  to  his  age  and  capacity.  Socrates,  who 
had  an  affection  for  him  upon  account  of  Plato,  his 
brother,  WHS  the  only  person  that  could  prevail  upon 
him  to  change  his  resolution. 

Meeting  him  one  day,  he  accosted  him  with  so 
much  address  and  dexterity,  that  he  engaged  him  to 
give  him  the  hearing,  which  was  already  a  great 
point  gained.  "  You  are  desirous,  then,  of  govern- 
ing the  republic?"  said  he  to  him. — "  True,"  replied 
Glauco. — "  You  cannot  have  a  more  noble  design," 
answered  Socrates:  "  for  if  you  succeed,  you  will 
have  it  in  your  power  to  serve  your  friends  effectual- 
ly, to  aggrandize  your  family,  and  to  extend  the 
confines  of  your  country.  You  will  make  yourself 
known  not  only  at  Athens,  but  throughout  all 
Greece;  and  perhaps  your  renown,  like  that  of 
Themistocles,  may  spread  abroad  amongst  the  bar- 
barous nations.  In  short,  wherever  you  are,  you 
will  attract  the  respect  and  admiration  of  the  whole 
world." 

So  smooth  and  insinuating  a  prelude  was  extreme- 
ly pleasing  to  the  young  man,  who  was  attacked  on 
the  blind  side.  He  stayed  willingly,  without  requir- 
ing to  be  pressed  so  to  do,  and  the  conversation 
continued.  "  Since  jou  desire  to  be  esteemed  and 
honoured,  no  doubt  tour  view  i*  to  be  useful  to  the 
public?" — "Certainly." — "  Tell  me  then,  I  beg  you, 
in  the  name  of  the  gods,  what  i*  the  first  service  you 
propose  to  render  the  state?"  As  Glauco  seemed  at 
a  loss,  and  meditated  upon  what  he  should  answer: 
••  I  presume,"  continues  Socrates,  "  it  is  to  enrich  it, 
that  is  to  say.  to  augment  its  revenues." — "  Exactly 
so."—"  You  are  well  versed  then,  undoubtedly,  in 
the  revenues  of  the  state,  and  know  perfectly  to  what 
they  may  amount?  You  have  not  failed  to  make 
them  your  particular  study,  in  order  that,  if  a  fund 
should  happen  to  fail  on  a  sudden  by  any  unforeseen 
accident,  you  might  be  able  to  supply, the  deficiency 
by  another?" — "  I  protest,"  replied  Glauco,  "  that 
never  entered  into  my  thoughts." — "  At  least  you 
will  tell  me  to  what  the  expenses  of  the  republic 


«  jFlian.  I.  iii.  c.  28. 

•  XcnopN.  Memorab.  1.  iii.  p.  773 — 774. 

Vol.  1  -49 


amount;  for  you  must  know  the  impoitance  of  re- 
trenching such  as  are  superfluous?" — '  I  own  1  am  at 
little  informed  in  this  point  as  the  other." — "  You 
must  therefore  defer  your  design  of  enriching  tli* 
state  till  another  time;  for  it  is  impossible  you  should 
do  it,  whilst  you  are  unacquainted  with  iU  revenues 
and  expenses.'1 

"  But,"  said  Glauco,  "there  is  still  another  means, 
which  you  have  not  mentioned.  A  state  may  be  ep- 
riche«l  by  the  ruin  of  its  enemies." — "You  are  in 
the  right,"  replied  Socrates.  "  But  that  depends 
upon  its  being  the  strongest;  otherwise  it  incurs  the 
danger  of  loeing  what  it  has.  For  which  reason, 
he  who  talks  of  engaging  in  a  war,  ought  to  know 
the  forces  on  both  sides;  that  if  he  finds  his  owi 
party  strongest,  he  n:ay  boldly  advise  the  war,  aud 
if  weakest,  dissuade  the  people  from  undertaking  it. 
Now,  do  you  know  the  strength  of  our  republic,  and 
that  of  our  enemies  by  sea  and  land?  Have  you  a 
slate  of  them  in  writing?  Be  so  kind  to  let  me  see 
it." — "  I  have  it  not  at  present,"  said  Glauco. — 
"  I  see  then,"  said  Socrates,  "that  we  shall  not  soon 
enter  into  a  war,  if  you  are  charged  with  the  gov- 
ernment; for  you  have  abundance  of  inquiries  to 
make,  and  much  pains  to  go  through,  before  you  will 
resolve  upon  it." 

He  ran  over  in  this  manner  several  other  articles 
of  no  less  importance,  with  which  Glauco  appeared 
equally  unacquainted;  till  he  brought  him  to  confess 
how  ridiculous  those  people  were,  who  have  the 
rashness  to  intrude  themselves  into  the  administra- 
tion of  affairs,  without  any  other  preparation  for  the 
service  of  the  public  than  that  of  a  high  esteem  for 
themselves,  and  an  immoderate  ambition  of  rising  to 
the  first  places  and  dignities.  "Have  a  care,  dear 
Glauco,"  said  he  to  him,  "lest  a  too  warm  desire  of 
honours  should  deceive  you  into  pursuits  that  may 
cover  you  with  shame,  by  setting  your  incapacity  and 
slender  abilities  in  full  light." 

Glauco  improved  from  the  wise  admonition*  of 
Socrates,  and  took  time  to  inform  himself  in  private 
before  he  ventured  to  appear  in  public.  This  is  a 
lesson  for  all  ages,  and  may  be  very  useful  to  person* 
in  all  stations  and  conditions  of  life,. 

Socrates  did  not  urge  his  friends  to  enter  early 
upon  public  employments;1  but  first  to  take  pains 
to  improve  their  minds  by  the  knowledge  necessary 
to  their  success  in  them.  "  A  man  must  be  very 
simple,"3  said  he,  "  to  believe  that  the  mechanic  arts 
are  to  be  acquired  without  the  help  of  prope;  mas- 
ters, and  that  the  knowledge  requisite  V.  governing 
states,  which  is  the  highest  degree  of  human  pru- 
dence, demands  no  previous  labour  and  application." 
His  great  care,  in  regard  to  those  who  aspired  at 
public  employments,  was  to  form  their  manners  up- 
on the  solid  principles  of  probity  and  justice;  and 
especially  to  inspire  them  with  a  sincere  love  of 
their  country,  with  the  most  ardent  passion  for  the 
public  good,  and  a  high  idea  of  the  power  and  good- 
ness of  the  gods;  because,  without  these  qualities, 
all  other  abilities  serve  only  to  render  men  more 
wicked,  and  more  capable  of  doing  evil.  Xenophon 
has  transmitted  to  us  a  conversation  of  Socrates  with 
Euthydemus,  upon  Providence,  which  is  one  of  the 
finest  passages  to  be  fouud  in  the  writings  of  the  an- 
cients. 

"  Did  you  never  reflect  within  yourself,"  says  Socra- 
tes to  Euthydemus,  "  how  much  care  the  gods  have 
taken  to  bestow  upon  man  all  that  is  necessary  for 
him?" — "Never,  I  assure  you,"  replied  he. — "  You 
see,"  continued  Socrates,  "how  necessary  light  is, 
and  how  precious  that  gift  of  the  gods  ought  to  ap- 
pear to  us." — "Without  it,"  added  Euthydemns, 
"  we  should  be  like  the  blind,  and  all  nature  as  if  it 
were  dead:  but  because  we  have  occasion  for  inter 
vals  of  relaxation,  they  have  also  given  us  the  night 
for  our  repose." — "You  are  in  the  right;  and  for 
this  we  ought  to  render  them  continued  pra:ses  anil 
thanksgiving.  They  have  ordained  that  the  sun 
that  bright  and  luminous  star,  should  preside  over 
the  day  to  distinguish  its  different  parts,  and  that 


Xenoph.  Mcmorob.  I.  ir.  p.  800. 
2  H 


Ibid.  f.  7J3 


380 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


its  light  should  serve  not  only  to  discover  the  won- 
ders of  nature,  but  to  dispense  over  every  part  life 
and  heat;  and  at  the  same  time,  they  have  comman- 
ded the  moon  and  stars  to  illumine  the  night, 
which  of  itself  is  dark  and  obscure.  Is  there  any 
thing  more  worthy  of  admiration  than  this  variety 
and  vicissitude  of  day  and  night,  of  light  and  darkness, 
of  labour  and  rest; — and  all  this  for  the  convenience 
and  good  of  man?"  Socrates  enumerates  in  like 
manner  the  infinite  advantages  we  receive  from 
fire  and  water  for  the  necessaries  of  life;  and  con- 
tinuing to  observe  upon  the  wonderful  attention  of 
Providence  in  all  that  regards  us:  "  What  say  you," 
pursued  he,  "  upon  the  «un's  return  after  winter  to 
revisit  us:  and  thatas  the  fruits  of  one  season  wither 
and  decay,  he  ripens  new  ones  to  succeed  them?  that 
having  rendered  man  this  service,  he  retires,  lest  he 
should  incommode  him  by  excess  of  heat;  and  then, 
after  having  receded  to  a  certain  point,  which  he 
could  not  pass  without  putting  us  in  danger  of  pe- 
rishing with  cold,  that  he  returns  in  the  same  track 
to  resume  his  place  in  those  parts  of  the  heavens 
where  his  presence  is  most  beneficial  to  us?  And  be- 
cause we  could  neither  support  the  cold  nor  heal,  if 
we  were  to  pass  in  an  instant  from  the  one  to  the 
other,  are  you  not  struck  with  admiration  that  this 
luminary  approaches  and  removes  so  slowly,  that  the 
two  extremes  arrive  by  almost  insensible  degrees?  Is 
it  possible  not  to  discover,  in  this  disposition  of  the 
seasons  of  the  year,1  a  providence  and  goodness  at- 
tentive not  only  to  our  necessities,  but  even  to  our 
delights  and  enjoyments?" 

"All  these  things,"  said  Euthydemus,  "  make  rue 
doubt  whether  the  gods  have  any  other  employment 
than  to  shower  down  their  gifts  and  benefits  upon 
mankind.  There  is  one  point,  however,  that  puts  me 
to  a  stand,  which  is,  that  the  brute  animals  partake 
of  all  these  blessings  as  well  as  ourselve»." — "  Yes," 
replied  Socrates:  "but  do  you  not  observe,  that  all 
these  animals  subsist  only  for  man's  service?  The 
strongest  and  most  vigorous  of  them  he  subjects  at 
bis  will;  he  makes  them  tame  and  gentle,  and  em- 
ploys them  with  great  advantage  in  war,  tillage,  and 
the  other  occasions  of  life." 

"  What  if  we  consider  man  in  himself?"  Here 
Socrates  examines  the  diversity  of  the  senses,  by 
the  ministry  of  which  man  enjoys  all  that  is  best 
and  most  excellent  in  nature;  the  vivacity  of  his 
mind,  and  therefore  of  his  reason,  which  exalts  him 
infinitely  above  all  other  animals;  the  wonderful 
gift  of  speech,  by  the  means  of  which  we  communi- 
cate our  thoughts  reciprocally,  publish  our  laws,  and 
govern  states. 

"  From  all  this,"  says  Socrates,  "  it  is  easy  .to  dis- 
cern that  there  are  gods,  and  that  they  have  man  in 
their  particular  care,  though  he  cannot  discover 
them  by  his  senses.  Do  we  perceive  the  thunder 
whilst  it  crushes  every  thing  which  opposes  it?  Do 
we  distinguish  the  winds  whilst  they  make  such 
dreadful  havoc  before  our  eyes?  Our  soul  itself, 
which  is  so  intimately  connected  with  us,  which 
moves  and  actuates  us,  is  it  visible;  can  we  behold 
it? — It  is  the  same  with  regard  to  the  rods,  of  whom 
none  are  visible  in  the  distribution  of  their  favours. 
This  GREAT  GOD  himself"  (these  words  are  remar- 
kable, and  demonstrate  that  Socrates  acknowledged 
one  supreme  GOD,  the  Author  of  all  being,  and  supe- 
rior to  all  others,  who  were  only  the  ministers  of  his 
will,)  "  this  GREAT  GOD  who  has  formed  the  uni- 
verse, and  supports  the  stupendous  work,  whose 
every  part  is  finished  with  the  utmost  goodness  and 
harmony;  he  who  preserves  them  perpetually  in  im- 
mnrtal  vigour,  and  causes  them  to  obey  him  with  a 
never-failing  punctuality,  and  a  rapidity  not  to  be 
followed  by  our  imagination:  this  God  makes  him- 
self sufficiently  visible  by  the  endless  wonders  of 
which  he  is  author;  but  continues  always  invisible  in 
hinwlf.  Let  us  not  then  refuse  to  believe  even 
what  we  do  not  see;  and  let  us  supply  the  defects 
of  our  corporeal  eye§,  by  using  those  of  the  soul; 


-»{  *•;»{  TOUT*  r«(ix>",  «i*  >in\v  ti,  pa. 
*  xiii  »«»Tor«   *-«(ar*ivf£ovrii>  «>.>.* 


but  especially  let  us  learn  to  render  the  j ust  homage 
of  respect  and  veneration  to  the  Divinity,  whoap 
will  it  seems  to  be,  that  we  should  have  no  other 
perception  of  him  thsn  by  his  benefits  vouchsafed  to 
us.  Now  this  adoration,  this  homage,  consists  in 
pleasing  him,  and  we  can  only  please  him  in  doing 
his  will." 

In  this  manner  Socrates  instructed  youth:*  these 
are  the  principles  and  sentiments  with  which  he  in* 
spired  them;  on  the  one  side, a  perfect  submission  to 
the  laws  and  magistrates,  in  which  lie  made  justice 
consist;  on  the  other,  a  profound  regard  for  the  Di- 
vinity, which  constitutes  religion.  In  things  sur- 
passing our  understanding,  he  advises  us  to  consult 
the  gods;  and  as  they  impart  themselves  only  to 
those  that  please  them,  he  recommends  above  til! 
things  the  making  of  them  propitious  by  a  prudent 
and  regular  conduct.  "The  gods  are  free,"3  .«nys 
he,  "  and  it  depends  upon  them  either  to  grant  what 
we  ask,  or  to  give  us  directly  the  reverse  of  it."  He 
cites  an  excellent  prayer  from  a  poet  whose  name  has 
not  come  down  to  us:  "  Great  God,  give  us,  we  be- 
seech thee,  those  good  things  of  which  we  stand  in 
need,  whether  we  crave  them  or  not;  and  remove 
from  us  all  those  which  may  be  hurtful  to  us,  even 
though  we  implore  them  of  thee."  The  vulgar  ima- 
gined, that  there  are  things  which  the  gods  observe, 
and  others  of  which  they  take  no  notice;  but  Socra- 
tes taught,  that  the  gods  observe  all  our  actions  and 
words;  that  they  penetrate  into  our  most  secret 
thoughts;  are  present  in  all  our  deliberations;  and 
that  they  inspire  us  in  all  our  actions. 

SECTION  V. —  SOCRATES  APPLIES  HIMSELF  TO 
DISCREDIT  THE  SOPHISTS  IN  THE  OPINION  OF 
THE  YOUNG  ATHENIANS.  WHAT  IS  TO  BE  UN- 
DERSTOOD OF  THE  IRONICAL  CHARACTER  AS- 
CRIBED  TO  HIM. 

SOCRATES  found  it  necessary  to  guard  the  young 
people  against  a  bad  taste  which  had  prevailed  for 
some  time  in  Greece.  A  sect  of  assuming  men 
arose,  who,  ranking  themselves  as  the  first  sages  of 
Greece,  were  in  their  conduct  entirely  the  reverse 
For  instead  of  being  infinitely  remote  from  all  ava- 
rice and  ambition,  like  Piltacus,  Bias,  Thales,  and  the 
others,  who  made  the  study  of  wisdom  their  princi* 
pal  occupation,  these  men  were  ambitious  and  cove- 
tous, entered  into  the  intrigues  and  affairs  of  the 
world,  and  made  a  trade  of  their  pretended  know- 
ledge. They  *  called  themselves  sophists.5  They 
wandered  from  city  to  city,  and  caused  themselves  to 
be  cried  up  as  oracles,  and  walked  about  attended  by 
crowds  of  their  disciples,  who,  through  a  kind  of  en- 
chantment, abandoned  the  embraces  of  their  parent! 
to  follow  these  proud  teachers,  whom  they  paid  a 
great  price  for  their  instruction.  There  was  nothing 
these  masters  did  not  profess: — theology,  physics, 
ethics,  arithmetic,  astronomy,  grammar,  music,  poe- 
try, rhetoric,  and  history.  The  luiew  every  thing, 
and  could  teach  every  thing.  Their  greatest  sup- 
posed skill  lay  in  philosophy  and  eloquence.  Most 
of  them,  like  Gorgias,  valued'  themselves  upon  giving 
immediate  answers  to  all  questions  that  could  be 
proposed  to  them.  Their  young  disciples  acquired 
nothing  from  their  precepts,  but  a  silly  esteem  for 
themselves,  and  a  universal  contempt  for  every  body 
else;  so  that  not  a  scholar  quitted  these  schools,  but 
was  more  impertinent  than  when  he  first  entered  them. 

It  was  necessary  to  decry  the  false  eloquence  and 
bad  logic  of  these  proud  teachers  in  the  opinions  of 
the  young  Athenians.  To  attack  them  openly,  and 
dispute  with  them  in  a  direct  manner,  by  a  connec- 
ted discourse,  was  what  Socrates  could  well  have 
done,  for  he  possessed  in  a  supreme  degree  the  tal- 
ents of  elocution  and  reasoning;  but  this  was  not 
the  way  to  succeed  against  great  haranguers.  whose 


•  Xenoph.  Memorab.  1.  iv.  p.  803  fe  805. 

1  'ETI  Sltft  irriy.  ej(t*i,  WO-TI  xai  f.icvxi  STT'  £v  rt(  li- 
XOymvef  ruyx*"?  *»'  Tim»T/«i  TO«T«>».  Plat,  in  Alcib.  ii 
p.  148. 

«  Plat  in  Apolop.  p.  19,  20. 

•  Sir.  enim  ap|x?llantur  In  qni  ostentation!*  aut  qurcrtu* 
causa  jihilosouhantur.     Cic.  in  Lucul.  n.  129 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


387 


sole  ai.n  was  to  dazzle  their  auditors  with  a  vain 
flitter  and  rapid  flow  of  word*.  He  therefore  took 
Mother  course,'  and  employing  the  artifices  and  ad- 
dress of  irony,  which  he  knew  how  to  apply  with 
wonderful  art  and  delicacy,  he  chose  to  conceal,  un- 
der the  appearance  of  simplicity  and  the  affectation 
of  ignorance,  all  the  beauty  and  great  force  of  his 
genius.  Nature,  which  had  given  him  so  fine  a  soul, 
seemed  to  have  formed  his  outside  expressly  for  sup- 
porting the  ironic  character.  He  was  very  ugly,  and, 
besides  that,  had  something  very  dull  and  stupid  in  his 
physiognomy.8  The  whole  air  of  his  person,  which 
bad  nothing  but  what  was  very  common  and  very 
poor  in  it,  perfectly  corresponded  with  that  of  his 
countenance. 

\Viira  he  happened  to  fall  into  the  company  of 
nonie  one  of  those  sophists,3  he  proposed  h'u  doubts 
with  a  diffident  and  modest  air,  be  asked  simple 
questions  in  a  plain  manner,  and  as  if  he  had  been 
incapable  of  expressing-  himself  otherwise,  made  use 
j>i  trivial  comparisons,  and  allusions  taken  from  the 
gieanest  employments.  The  sophist  heard  him  with 
a  scornful  attention,  and  instead  of  giving  him  a 
precise  answer,  had  recourse  to  his  common-place 
phrases,  and  talked  a  great  deal  without  saying  any 
thing  to  the  purpose.  Socrates,  after  having  praised 
(in  order  not  to  enrage)  his  adversary,  entreated  him 
to  adapt  himself  to  his  weakness,  and  to  descend  so 
low  as  him,  by  satisfying  his  questions  in  a  few  words; 
because  neither  his  wit  nor  memory  was  capable  of 
comprehending  or  retaining  so  many  fine  and  exalted 
notions,  and  all  his  knowledge  was  confined  to  ques- 
tion and  answer. 

This  passed  in  a  numerous  assembly,  and  the 
teacher  could  not  recede.  When  Socrates  had  once 
got  him  out  of  his  entrenchment,  by  obliging  him  to 
answer  his  questions  succinctly,  he  carried  him  on 
from  one  to  another,  to  the  most  absurd  consequen- 
ces; and  after  having  reduced  him  either  to  contra- 
dict himself,  or  be  silent,  he  complained  that  the 
learned  man  would  not  vouchsafe  to  instruct  him. 
The  young  people,  however,  perceived  the  incapacity 
of  their  master,  and  changed  their  admiration  for 
him  into  contempt.  Thus  the  name  of  sophist  be- 
came odious  and  ridiculous. 

It  is  easy  to  judge  that  men  of  the  sophists'  cha- 
racter, of  which  I  have  now  spoken,  who  were  in 
high  credit  with  the  great,  who  lorded  it  amongst 
the  youth  of  Athens,  and  had  been  long  celebrated 
for  their  wit  and  learning,  could  not  be  attacked 
with  impunity;  and  the  rather,  because  they  had 
been  assailed  in  the  two  most  sensible  points,  their 
fame  and  their  interest.  Socrates,*  for  having  en- 
deavoured to  unmask  their  vices  and  discredit  their 
false  eloquence,  experienced  from  these  men,  who 
were  equally  corrupt  and  haughty, .all  that  could  be 
feared  or  expected  from  the  most  malignant  envy  and 
the  most  envenomed  hatred;  to  which  it  is  DOW 
time  to  proceed. 

SECTION  VI. — SOCRATES  IS  ACCUSED  OF  HOI.D- 
IXG  BAD  OPINIONS  IN  REGARD  TO  THE  GODS. 
AND  OF  CORRUPTING  THE  ATHENIAN  YOUTH. 
HE  DEFENDS  HIMSELF  WITHOUT  ART  OR  FEAR. 
HE  IS  CONDEMNED  TO  DIE 

SOCRATES  was  accused  a   little 
A.  M.  3602.        before  the  first  year  of  the  ninety- 
Ant.  J.  C.  402.       fifth  Olympiad,  soon  after  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  thirty  tyrants  out  of 


>  Socrates  in  ironia  dissitnulantiaque  longs'  omnibus  le- 
pore  atque  humanitale  prxntilit.  Cic.  I.  ii.  de  Oral.  n.  270. 

•  Zopymi  phvsiognomon — mupidum  esee  Sueratem  dixit 
et  bsrdum.    Cic.  de  Fat.  n    10. 

•  Sorraiee  de  *e  ip«e  detrahans  iu  diipntatione,  plu*  tri- 
buehnt    iii,   quo*  vulcliat    refcllere.      Ita  cum  aliud  dice  re, 
itquo   ivntirpt.  libenter  uti  cnlitu*  eat  ilia   dissimulations 
quam  Gneci  n>*m'»»  vocant.  Cic.  Jicad.  Qtiirst.  I.  iv.  r.  1.5. 

?•  ii  et  ilium  quern  nominavi  (Gorgiam)  et  CKteron 
eophista*,  ut  6  Platnne1  intelliiri  potert,  luson  videmui  ft 
Bocrate  Is  enim  percontamlo  atque  intcrrogando  elirere 
•olebat  eorum  opiniones  quibuscum  diuercbat,  ut,  ad  ea, 
qua*  ii  respondiasent,  <i  quid  rideretur,  diceret.  Cic.  d* 
Finib.  I.  ii.  n.  2. 

•  Plat,  in  Apulog.  p.  33 


Athens,  in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  life;  but  tha 
prosecution  had  been  projected  long  before.  Th« 
oracle  of  Delphi,  which  had  declared  him  the  wisest 
of  mankind;  the  contempt  into  which  he  had  brought 
the  doctrine  and  morals  of  the  sophists  of  his  time, 
who  were  then  in  high  reputation;  the  liberty  v.ith 
which  he  attacked  all  vice;  the  singular  attachment 
of  his  disciples  to  his  person  and  maxims  had  all 
concurred  in  alienating  people  against  him,  and  had 
drawn  abundance  of  envy  upon  him. 

His  enemies  having  sworn  his  destruction,5  and 
perceiving  the  difficulty  of  the  attempt,  prepared 
the  way  for  it  at  a  distance,  and  at  first  attacked  him 
in  the  dark,  and  by  obscure  and  secret  methods.  It 
Is  said,  that  in  order  to  sound  the  people's  disposi 
tion  towards  Socrates,  and  to  try  whether  it  would 
ever  be  safe  to  cite  him  before  the  judges,  they  en- 
gaged Aristophanes  to  bring  him  upon  the  stage  in  a 
comedy,  wherein  the  first  seeds  of  the  accusation 
meditated  against  him  were  sown.  It  is  not  certain 
whether  Aristophanes  was  suborned  by  Anylus  and 
the  rest  of  Socrates's  enemies  to  compose  that  satiri- 
cal piece  against  him.  It  is  very  likely  that  Socra- 
tes's declared  contempt  for  all  comedies  in  general, 
and  for  those  of  Aristophanes  in  particular,  whilst 
he  professed  an  extraordinary  esteem  for  the  trage- 
dies of  Curipides,  might  be  the  poet's  true  motive 
for  taking  his  revenge  of  the  philosopher.  Howev- 
er it  were,  Aristophanes,  to  the  disgrace  of  poetry 
lent  his  pen  to  the  malice  of  Socrates's  entmiri 
or  his  own  resentment,  and  employed  his  whole 
genius  and  capacity  to  depreciate  the  best  and  must 
excellent  man  that  ever  the  pagan  world  produced. 

He  composed  a  piece  called  The  Clauds,  wherein 
he  introduces  the  philosopher  perched  in  a  basket 
and  hoisted  up  amidst  the  air  and  clouds,  from 
whence  he  delivers  maxims,  or  rather  the  most  ridi- 
culous subtilties.  A  very  aged  debtor,  who  desire* 
to  escape  the  close  pursuit  ol  his  creditors,  conies  to 
him  to  be  taught  the  art  of  tricking  them  at  law;  to 
prove  by  unnnsweiable  reasons  that  he  owes  them 
nothing;  and,  in  a  word,  of  a  very  bad,  to  make 
a  very  good,  cause.  But  finding  himself  incapable 
of  any  improvement  from  the  sublime  lessons  ol"  hit 
new  master,  he  brings  hi*  son  to  him  in  his  stead. 
This  young  man  soon  after  quits  this  learned  school 
so  well  instructed,  that  at  their  first  meeting  he  beats 
his  father,  and  proves  to  him  by  subtile  but  invin- 
cible arguments,  that  he  has  reason  for  treating  him 
in  that  manner.  In  every  scene  where  Socrates  ap- 
pears, the  poet  makes  him  utter  a  thousand  imper 
tinences,  and  as  many  impieties  against  the  gods, 
and  in  particular  against  Jupiter.  He  makes  him 
talk  like  a  man  of  the  greatest  vanity  and  highest 
opinion  of  himself,  with  an  equal  contempt  for  all 
others,  who  out  of  a  criminal  curiosity  is  desirous 
of  penetrating  into  what  passes  in  the  heavens,  and  of 
diving  into  the  abysses  of  the  earth;  who  boasts  of 
having  always  the  means  of  making  injustice  tri- 
umph; and  who  is  not  contented  with  keeping  those 
secret*  for  hit  own  use,  but  teaches  them  to  others, 
and  thereby  corrupts  youth.  All  this  is  attended 
with  a  refined  raillery  and  wit,  that  could  not  tail 
of  highly  pleasing  a  people  of  »o  quick  and  delicate 
a  taste  as  the  Athenians,  who  were  besides  naturally 
jealous  of  all  transcendent  merit.  They  were  so  much 
charmed  with  it,  that  without  waiting  the  conclusion 
of  the  representation,  they  ordered  the  name  of  Aris- 
tophanes to  be  s«-t  down  above  all  his  competi'ors. 

Socrates,  who  had  been  informed  that  he  was  to  be 
brought  upon  the  stage,  went  that  day  to  the  thea- 
tre to  see  the  comedy  contrary  to  his  custom;  for  it 
was  not  common  for  hnj  to  go  to  those  assemblies, 
unless  when  some  new  tragedy  of  Euripides  war  to 
be  performed,  who  was  his  intimate  friend,  and 
whose  pieces  he  esteemed  upon  account  of  the  solid 
principles  of  morality  he  took  care  to  intersperse  in 
them.  It  has,  however,  been  observed,  that  he  once 
had  not  patience  to  wait  the  conclusion  of  one  of 
them,  wherein  the  actor  had  advanced  a  dangerous 
maxim,  but  went  out  immediately,  without  consider 


•  .(Elian.  1.  ii.  e.  13.    Plat,  in  A  pot*.  Socru  p.  (9. 


388 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


ing  the  injury  which  his  withdrawing  might  do  to  his 
Iriend's  reputation.  He  never  went  to  comedies, 
nulfss  that  Alcibiadc-s  and  Crilias  forced  him  thither 
against  his  will;  as  he  was  offended  at  the  unboun- 
ded licentiousness  which  reigned  in  them,  and  could 
not  ent'ure  to  see  the  reputation  of  his  felluw-citi- 
lens  publicly  torn  in  pieces  He  was  present  at  this 
without  the  least  emotion,  and  without  expressing 
any  discontent:  and  some  strangers  being  anxious  to 
know  who  the  Socrates  intended  by  the  play  was, 
he  rose  up  from  his  seat,  and  showed  himself  during 
the  whole  representation.  He  told  those  who  were 
near  him,1  and  were  amazed  at  his  indifference  and 
patience,  that  he  imagined  himself  at  a  great  enter- 
tainment, where  he  was  agreeably  laughed  at,  and 
that  it  was  necessary  to  be  able  to  bear  a  joke. 

There  is  no  probability,  as  I  have  already  obser- 
ved, that  Aristophanes,  though  he  was  not  Socrates's 
friend,  had  entered  into  the  black  conspiracy  of  his 
enemies,  and  had  any  thought  of  occasioning  his 
destruction.  It  is  more  probable,  that  a  poet  who 
diverted  the  public  at  the  expense  of  the  principal 
magistrates  and  most  celebrated  generals,  was  also 
willing  to  make  them  laugh  at  the  expense  of  a  phi- 
losopher. AH  the  guilt  was  on  the  side  of  those 
who  envied  him,  and  his  enemies,  who  were  in  hopes 
of  making  great  use  of  the  representation  of  this 
comedy  against  him.  The  artifice  was  indeed  deep 
and  well  planned.  In  bringing  a  man  upon  the  stage, 
he  is  only  represented  by  his  bad,  weak,  or  equivo- 
cal qualities.  That  view  of  him  is  followed  with 
ridicule:  ridicule  accustoms  people  to  the  contempt 
of  his  person,  and  contempt  proceeds  to  injustice. 
For  the  world  are  naturally  emboldened  in  insulting, 
abusing,  and  injuring  a  man,  when  once  he  becomes 
the  object  of  general  contempt. 

These  were  the  first  blows  struck  at  him,  and 
served  as  an  essay  and  trial  of  the  great  affair  medi- 
tated against  him.  It  lay  dormant  a  long  while,  and 
did  not  break  out  until  twenty  years  afterward*.  The 
troubles  of  the  republic  might  well  occasion  that 
long  delay.  For  it  was  in  that  interval  that  the  en- 
terprise against  Sicily  happened,  the  event  of  which 
WHS  so  unfortunate,  that  Athens  was  besieged  and 
taken  bv  Lysander,  who  changed  its  form  of  govern- 
ment and  established  the  thirty  tyrants,  who  were 
not  expelled  till  a  very  short  time  before  the  affair 
we  speak  of. 

Melitus  'then  appeared  as  accu- 
A.  M.  3603.     ser,  and  entered   a  process  in  form 

Ant.  J.  C.  401.  against  Socrates.  His  accusation 
consisted  of  two  heads.  The  first 
was.  that  he  did  not  admit  the  gods  acknowledged 
by  the  republic,  and  introduced  new  divinities:  the 
lecond,  that  he  corrupted  the  youth  of  Athens;  and 
concluded  with  inferring  that  sentence  of  death 
ougrht  to  pass  against  him. 

Never  had  accusation  so  little  foundation,  or  even 
probability  and  pretext,  as  this.  Socrates  for  forty 
year*  had  made  it  his  profession  to  instruct  the 
Athenian  youth.  He  had  advanced  no  opinions  in 
secret  and  in  the  dark.  His  lessons  were  given  pub- 
licly, and  in  the  view  of  great  numbers  of  auditors, 
He  had  always  observed  the  same  conduct,  antl 
taught  the  same  principles.  What  then  could  be 
Melitu«'s  motive  for  this  accusation  after  such  a 
length  of  time?  How  came  his  zeal  for  the  public 
good,  after  having  been  languid  and  drowsy  for  so 
many  year*,  to  awake  on  a  sudden  and  become  so 
violent?  Is  it  pardonable  in  so  zealous  and  worthy 
a  citizen  as  Melitus  would  wish  to  appear,  to  have 
continued  mute  and  inactive,  whilst  a  person  was 
corrupting  the  whole  youth  of  that  city,  by  instilling 
•editions  maxims  into  them,  and  inspiring  them  with 
a  disgust  and  contempt  for  the  established  govern- 
ments? For  he  who  does  not  prevent  an  evil  when 
it  is  in  hi«  power,  is  equally  criminal  with  him  that 
commits  it.  These  are  the  expressions  of  Libanius  in 
•  declamation  of  his  called  the  Apology  of  Socrates.1 
But,  continues  he,  allowing  that  Melitus,  wheMier 


'   Plot.  He  edur.  liber,  p. 
•  Libon.  ir  Aou'nr   Sucri 


. .     .-*7    IM1UIT.    IIUUI.    p.     1U. 

1  Liban.  in  .\ou\og  Surrat.  p.  645—648 


through  forgetfulness,  indifference,  or  resl  ard  t 
rious  engagements,  never  thought  for  »o  many  year* 
of  entering  an  accusation  against  Socrates;  how  'came 
it  to  pass,  that  in  a  city  like  Athens,  which  abounded 
with  wise  magistrates,  and,  what  is  more,  with  bold 
informers,  so  public  a  conspiracy  as  that  imputed  to 
Socrates  should  have  escaped  the  eves  of  those 
whom  either  the  love  of  their  country  or  invidious 
malignity  rendered  so  vigilant  and  attentive.'  .No- 
thing was  ever  less  credible,  or  more  void  of  all  pro 
babmty. 

As  soon  as  the  conspiracy  broke  out,3  the  friends 
of  Socrates  prepared  for  his  defence.  L\jias,  the 
most  able  orator  of  his>  time,  brought  him  an  elabor- 
ate discourse  of  his  composing,  wherein  he  had  fit 
forth  the  reasons  and  measures  of  Socrates  in  their 
fullest  light,  and  interspersed  the  whole  with  tender 
and  pathetic  strokes,*  capable  of  moving  the  most 
obdurate  hearts.  Socrates  read  it  with  pleasure, 
and  approved  it  very  much;  but  as  it  was  more  con- 
formable to  the  rules  of  rhetoric  than  the  sentiments 
and  fortitude  of  a  philosopher,  he  told  him  frankly 
that  it  did  not  suit  him.  Upon  which  Ly.«ias.  having 
asked  how  it  was  possible  to  be  well  done,  and  at 
the  same  time  not  suit  him; — In  the  same  manner, 
said  he,  using,  according  to  his  custom,  n  vulgar  com- 
parison, that  an  excellent  workman  might  bring  me 
magnificent  apparel,  or  shoes  embroidered  with  go)d, 
to  which  nothing  would  be  wanting  on  his  pnrt,  but 
which,  however,  would  not  fit  me.  He  persisted 
therefore  inflexible  in  the  resolution  he  had  funned, 
not  to  demean  himself  by  begging  suffrages  in  the 
low  abject  manner  common  at  that  time.  He  em- 
ployed neither  artifice  nor  the  glitter  of  eloquence; 
he  iiad  no  recourse  either  to  solicitation  or  entreaty: 
he  brought  neither  his  wife  nor  children  to  inclin* 
the  judges  in  his  favour  by  their  signs  and  tears. 
Nevertheless,5  though  he  firmly  refused  to  make  use 
of  any  voice  but  his  own  in  his  defence,  and  to  ap- 
pear before  his  judges  in  the  submissive  posture  of  a 
suppliant,  he  did  not  behave  in  that  manner  nut  of 
pride,  or  contempt  of  the  tribunal :  it  was  from  a  no- 
ble and  intrepid  assurance,  resulting  from  greatness 
of  soul,  and  the  usual  attendant  upon  consciousness 
of  truth  and  innocence.  So  that  his  defence  had  no- 
thing timorous  or  weak  in  it.  His  discourse  was  bold, 
manlv,  generous,  without  passion,  without  emotion, 
fifll  of  the  noble  liberty  of  a  philosopher,  with  no 
other  ornament  than  that  of  truth,  and  displaying 
throughout  the  character  and  language  of  innocence, 
Plato,  who  was  present,  transcribed  it  atWwarc's. 
and  without  any  additions  composed  from  it  the  work 
which  he  calls  the  The  Apology  of  Socrates,  one  of 
the  most  consummate  master  pieces  of  antiquity.  I 
shall  here  make  an  extract  from  it. 

Upon  the  day  assigned,'  the  proceeding  com- 
menced in  the  usual  forms;  the  parties  appeared  be- 
fore the  judges,  and  Melitus  spoke.  The  worse  hit 
cause,  and  the  less  pYovided  it  was  with  proofs,  the 
more  occasion  he  had  for  address  and  art  to  cover  its 
weakness.  He  omitted  nothing  that  might  render  the 
adverse  party  odious;  and  instead  of  reasons,  which 
could  not  hut  fail  him,  he  substituted  the  delusive 
glitter  of  a  lively  and  pompous  elouuence.  Socrate*, 
in  observing  that  he  could  not  tell  what  impression 
the  discourse  of  his  accusers  might  make  upon  the 
judges,  owns,  that  for  his  part  he  scarce  knew  him- 
self, such  an  artful  colouring  and  likelihood  had  they 
given  to  their  arguments,  though  there  was  not  the 
lea*t  word  of  truth  in  all  they  had  advanced. 

I  have  already  said  that  their  accusation  consisted 
of  two  heads.7  'The  first  regards  religion.  Socrnte* 
inquire*  out  of  an  impious  curiosity  into  what  parses 
in  the  heavens  and  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Ha 


•  Cicer.  I.  i.  de  Oral.  n.  231-233. 

•  Quint.  1.  xi. c.  1. 

•  Hi*   et  talibus  adductm  Seriate*,  nee  patronum  \aie 
sivit  ad  indicium  capiiis,  nei:  judicihui  lupplex  (nil :  adhi 
buitque  liberam  romumariam  a  ma;nitudinc  animi  rtuciam 
non  a  superbia.     Oie.  Tusc.  Quasi.  1.  i. 

•  Plat,  in   Apolog.  Boerat.    Xenoph    in  Apolog.  Socrmt 
et  in  Memor. 

'  Plat,  in  Apolog .  p.  24. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS 


389 


does  not  acknowledge  the  godf  adored  by  his  country. 
He  endeavours  'to  introduce  new  duties;  and,  if  he 
may  be  believed,  nn  unknown  god  inspires  him  in  al! 
his  actions.  To  make  short,  he  believes  there  are  no 
gods. 

The  second  head  relates  to  the  interest  and  go- 
vefnmtnt  of  the  state.  Socrates  corrupts  the  youth 
by  in-tilling  bad  sentiments  concerning  the  Divinity 
into  them,  by  teaching  them  a  conteript  of  the  l;m  -, 
sad  (lie  order  established  in  the  republic;  by  declar- 
ing openly  against  the  choice  of  the  magistrates  by 
lot,1  by  exi  iaiming  against  the  public  assemblies, 
where  he  is  never  seen  to  appear;  by  teaching  the 
art  ol  making  the  worst  of  causes  good:  by  Attach- 
ing the  youth  to  himself  out  of  a  spirit  of  pride  and 
ambition,  under  the  prttence  of  instructing  them;  and 
by  proving  to  children  that  they  may  treat  their  pa- 
rents ill  with  impunity.  He  glories  in  a  pretended 
orarlr,  and  believes  himself  the  wisest  of  mankind. 
lit-  taxts  all  others  with  lolly,  and  condemns  without 
reserve  all  their  maxims  and  actions;  constituting 
himself  by  his  own  authority  the  general  censor  and 
reformer  of  the  state.  .Notwithstanding  which,  the 
effects  of  hi*  lessons  may  be  seen  in  the  persons  of 
Critiiis  and  Alcibiades,  his  most  intimate  friends,  who 
have  done  great  mischiefs  to  their  country,  and  have 
bei  n  the  most  wicked  of  citizens  and  the  most  aban- 
doned of  men. 

This  concluded  with  recommending  to  the  judges 
to  be  very  much  upon  theirguard  against  the  daulmg 
eloquence  of  Socrates,  and  to  suspect  extremely  the 
insinuating  and  artificial  turns  of  address  which  he 
would  uuploy  to  deceive  them. 

Socrates  began  his  discourse  with  this  point,2  and 
declared  that  he  would  speak  to  the  judges  as  it  was 
his  custom  to  talk  in  his  common  conversation,  that  is 
to  say,  with  much  simplicity,  and  no  art. 

He  then  proceeds  to  particulars.*  Upon  what 
foundation  can  it  be  alleged,  that  he  does  not  ac- 
knowledge the  god«  of  the  republic;  he  who  has 
been  often  keen  sacrificing  in  his  own  house  and  in 
the  temples?  Can  it  be  doubted  whether  he  uses 
divination,  since  it  is  made  a  crime  in  him  to  report 
that  he  received  counsels  from  a  certain  divinity;  and 
it  thence  inferred  that  he  aim*  at  introducing  new 
deities?  Hut  in  this  he  innovates  nothing  more  than 
others,  who,  putting  their  faith  in  divination,  ob- 
serve the  Might  ol  birds,  consult  the  entrails  of  vic- 
tims, and  remark  even  words  and  accidental  en- 
counters —  different  means  which  the  gods  em- 
ploy to  give  mankind  a  foreknowledge  of  the  fu- 
ture. Old  or  new.  it  is  still  evident  that  Socrates 
acknowledge  divinities,  by  the  confession  of  even 
Melitus  himself,  who  in  his  information  avers  that 
Socrates  believes  daemons,  that  is  to  say,  subaltern  spi- 
rits, the  offspring  of  the  gods.  Now  evtry  man  who 
believes  the  offspring  of  the  gods,  believes  the  gods. 

As  to  what  relates  to  the  impious  inquiries  into 
natural  things  imputed  to  him:*  without  despising 
or  condemning  those  who  apply  themselves  to  the 
study  of  physics,  he  declares  that,  as  for  himself,  he 
bad  entirely  devoted  himself  to  what  concerns  moral 
virtue,  the  conduct  of  life,  and  the  rules  of  govern- 
ment, as  to  a  knowledge  infinitely  more  useful  than 
any  other;  and  he  calls  upon  all  those  who  have  been 
his  hrarers,  to  come  forth  and  convict  him  of  false- 
noocl  if  he  does  not  say  what  is  true. 

"  I  am  accused  of  corrupting  the  youth,  and  of  in- 
•tilling  dangerous  maxims  into  them,  as  well  in  re- 
fan!  to  the  worship  of  the  gods  as  the  rules  of  gov- 
ernment. You  know.  Athenians,  that  I  never  made 
t  m*  profession  to  teach,  nor  can  envy,  however  vio- 
lent against  me.  rtproach  me  with  ever  having  sold  my 
instructions.  I  have  an  undeniable  evidence  for  me 


i  Socrates  in  reality  did  not  approve  thin  manner  of 
ttecting  the  magistrate*.  He  ohrerveri,  that  when  a  pilot, 
»  musician.  or  an  architect  is  wanted,  noliodv  in  willing  to 
take  him  at  a  venture;  though  the  faults  of  there  people 
ire  far  from  being  of  such  cr.-at  importance  as  those  errors 
••hich  are  committed  in  the  administration  of  the  republic. 
fenop/i.  Memorab.  1.  tig  1.  p.  ?!'J. 

*  IMat.  p.  17.  *  Plat.  p.  27.     Xcnoph.  p.  703. 

•  Xenopb   p  710. 


in  this  respect,  which  is  my  poverty.  Always  equal 
ly  ready  to  communicate  my  thoughts  either  to  tn« 
rich  or  poor,  and  to  give  them  full  leisure  to  question 
or  answer  me,  I  lend  myself  to  every  one  who  is  de 
sirous  of  becoming  virtuous:  and  if  amongst  those  whc 
hear  me,  there  are  any  that  prove  either  good  or  bad, 
neither  the  virtues  of  the  one,  of  which  I  am  not  the 
cause,  nor  the  vices  of  the  other,  to  which  I  have  not 
contributed,  are  to  be  ascribed  to  me.  My  whole 
employment  is  to  persuade  the  young  and  old  not  to 
entertain  too  much  love  for  the  body,  lor  riches,  and 
all  other  precarious  things,  of  wfiatsoexcr  nature 
they  be;  but  to  let  their  principal  regard  be  for  the 
soul,  which  ought  to  be  the  chief  object  of  their  af- 
fection: for  I  incessantly  urge  to  you,  that  virtue 
does  not  proceed  from  riches,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
riches  from  virtue;  and  that  all  the  other  goods  of 
human  life,  as  well  public  as  private,  have  their 
source  in  the  same  principle. 

"  If  to  speak  in  (his  manner  be  to  corrupt  youth,  I 
confess,  Athenians,  that  i  am  guilty,  and  deserve  to 
be  punished.  If  what  I  say  be  not  true,  it  is  most 
easy  to  convict  me  of  falsehood.  I  see  here  a  great 
number  of  my  disciples;  they  have  only  to  appear. 
But  perhaps  reserve  and  consideration  for  a  master 
who  has  instructed  them,  will  prevent  them  from 
declaring  against  me:  at  least  their  fathers,  brothers, 
and  uncles  cannot,  as  good  relations  and  good  citi- 
zens, excuse  themselves  from  standing  forth  to  demand 
vengeance  against  the  corrupter  ot  their  sons,  bro- 
thers, and  nephews.  But  these  are  the  persons  who 
take  upon  them  my  defence,  and  interest  themselves 
in  the  success  of  my  cause. 

"  Pass  on  me  what  sentence  you  please,5  Atheni- 
ans; but  I  can  neither  repent  nor  change  my  con- 
duct. I  must  not  abandon  nor  suspend  a  function 
which  God  himself  has  imposed  on  me.  Now  it  is 
He  who  has  charged  me  with  the  care  of  instruct- 
ing my  fellow-citizens.  If,  after  having  faithfully 
kept  all  the  posts  wherein  1  was  placed  by  our  gen- 
erals at  Potioaea,  Amphipolis,  and  Dtlinm,  the  fear 
of  death  should  at  this  time  make  me  abandon  that 
in  which  the  Divine  Providence  has  placed  me,  by 
commanding  me  to  pass  my  life  in  the  study  of 
philosophy  for  the  instruction  of  myself  and  others; 
this  would  be  a  most  criminal  desertion  indeed,  and 
make  me  highly  worthy  of  being  cited  before  this 
tribunal  as  an  impious  man  who  does  not  believe 
the  gods.  Should  you  resolve  to  acquit  me,  on 
condition  that  I  keep  silence  for  the  future,  I  should 
not  hesitate  to  make  answer, — 'Athenians,  I  honour 
and  love  you,  but  I  shall  choose  rather  to  obey 
God  than  you,6  and  to  my  latest  breath  shall  never 
renounce  philosophy,  nor  cease  to  exhort  and  reprove 
you  according  to  my  custom,  by  telling  each  of  you 
when  you  come  in  my  way,  My  good  friend,' and  citi- 
zen of  the  most  famous  city  in  the  world  for  wisdom 
mid  valour,  are  you  not  ashamed  of  having  no  other 
thoughts  than  that  of  amassing  wealth,  and  of  acquir- 
ing glory,  credit,  and  dignities,  whilst  you  neglect  the 
treasures  of  prudence,  truth,  and  wisdom,  and  take 
no  pains  in  rendering  your  soul  as  good  and  perfect 
as  it  is  capable  of  being?' 

"  I  am  reproached  with  abject  fear  and  meanness 
of  spirit,8  for  being  so  busy  in  imparting  my  advice 
to  every  one  in  private,  ana  yet  having  always  avoid- 
ed being  present  in  your  assemblies,  to  give  my  coun- 
sels to  my  country.  I  thought  I  had  given  sufficient 
proofs  of"  my  courage  and  fortitude,  both  in  the  field, 
where  I  have  borne  arms  with  you,  and  in  the  senate, 
where  I  alone  opposed  the  unjust  sentence  you  pro- 
nounced against  the  ten  captains,  who  had  not  taken 
up  and  interred  the  bodies  of  those  who  were  killed 
or  drowned  in  the  sea-fight  near  the  islands  Arginu- 
ta?;  and  when,  upon  more  than  one  occasion,  I  oppo- 
sed the  violent  and  cruel  orders  of  the  thirty  tyrants. 
What  is  it  then  that  has  prevented  me  from  appear- 
ing in  your  assemblies?  It  is  that  Daemon  Athe- 

•  Plat  ,..  28.  29. 

•  II. .V^="  T6   ~,S  pSXAci.  i  l^ir. 

'  The  Greek  signifies  O  lest  of  men,  ••  «{«CTI  i >'(••, 
which  was  an  obliging  manr.cr  of  accosting. 

•  Plat.  p.  31. 

2  a  2 


390 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


BJans,  that  voice  divine,  which  you  have  so  often 
heard  me  mention,  and  which  Melitus  has  taken  so 
much  pains  to  ridicule.  That  spirit  has  attached  it- 
•elf  to  me  from  my  infancy:  it  is  a  voice  which  I 
never  hear,  but  when  it  would  prevent  me  from 
persisting  in  something  I  have  resolved,  for  it  never 
exhorts  me  to  undertake  any  thing.  It  is  that  which 
has  always  opposed  me  when  I  would  have  inter- 
meddled in  the  affairs  of  the  republic;  and  its  oppo- 
sition was  very  seasonable;  for  I  should  have  been 
amongst  the  dead  long  ago,  had  I  been  concerned  in 
the  measures  of  the  state,  without  effecting  any 
thing  to  the  advantage  of  myself  or  our  country. 
Do  not  take  it  ill,  I  beseech  you,  if  I  speak  my 
thoughts  without  disguise,  and  with  truth  and  free- 
dom. Kvery  man  who  would  generously  oppose 
a  whole  people,  either  amongst  us,  or  elsewhere, 
and  who  inflexibly  applies  himself  to  prevent  the 
violation  of  the  laws  and  the  practice  of  iniquity  in 
a  city,  will  never  do  so  long  with  impunity.  It  is 
absolutely  necessary  for  him  who  would  contend  for 
justice,  if  he  has  the  slightest  wish  to  live,  to  remain 
in  a  private  station,  and  never  to  have  any  share  in 
public  affairs. 

"  For  the  rest,'  Athenians,  if,  in  the  extreme  dan- 
ger in  which  I  now  am,  I  do  not  imitate  the  behaviour 
of  those  who  upon  less  emergencies  have  implored 
and  supplicated  their  judges  with  tears,  and  have 
brought  before  them  their  children,  relations  and 
friends;  it  is  not  through  pride  and  obstinacy,  or  any 
contempt  for  you,  but  solely  for  your  honour,  and  for 
that  of  the  whole  city.  It  is  fit  that  you  should  know, 
that  there  are  amongst  our  citizens,  those  who  do  not 
regard  death  as  an  evil,  and  who  give  that  name  only 
to  injustice  and  infamy.  At  my  age,  and  with  the 
reputation  which  I  have,  whether  true  or  false,  would 
it  be  consistent  for  me,  after  all  the  lessons  I  have 
given  upon  the  contempt  of  death,  to  be  afraid  of  it 
myself,  and  to  belie  by  my  last  act  all  the  principles 
and  sentiments  of  my  past  life? 

"  But  without  speaking  of  mv  fame,  which  I  should 
extremely  injure  by  such  a  conduct,  I  do  not  think  it 
allowable  to  entreat  a  judge,  nor  to  procure  an  ac- 
quittal by  supplications;  he  ought  to  be  persuaded 
and  convinced.  The  judge  does  not  sit  upon  the 
bench  to  show  favour  by  violating  the  laws,  but  to  do 
justice  by  conforming  to  them.  He  did  not  take  an 
oath  to  favour  whom  he  pleases;  but  to  do  justice 
where  it  is  due.  We  ought  not  therefore  to  accustom 
you  to  perjury,  nor  you  to  suffer  yourselves  to  be  ac- 
customed to  it;  for  in  so  doing, both  the  one  and  the 
other  of  us  equally  injure  justice  and  religion,  and 
both  become  criminal. 

"  Do  not  therefore  expect  from  me,  Athenians,  that 
I  should  have  recourse  amongst  you  to  means  which 
I  believe  neither  honest  nor  lawful;  especially  upon 
this  occasion,  wherein  I  am  accused  of  impiety  by 
Melitus.  For  if  I  should  influence  you  by  my  pray- 
ers, and  thereby  induce  yon  to  violate  your  oaths,  it 
would  be  undeniably  evident  that  I  should  teach  you 
not  to  believe  in  the  gods;  and  even  in  defending 
and  justifying  myself,  should  furnish  my  adversaries 
with  arms  against  me,  and  prove  that  I  believe  in  no 
divinity.  But  I  am  very  far  from  such  thoughts.  I 
am  move  convinced  of  the  existence  of  God  than  my 
accusers;  and  so  convinced,  that  I  abandon  myself 
to  God  and  you,  that  yon  may  judge  of  me  as  you 
shall  deem  best  for  yourselves  and  me." 

Socrates  pronounced  this  discourse  with  a  firm  and 
Intrepid  tone.2  His  air,  his  action,  his  visage,  bore 
no  resemblance  to  that  of  a  person  accused:  he 
•eemed  the  master  of  his  judges,  from  the  assurance 
and  greatness  of  soul  with  which  he  spoke,  without, 
however,  losing  any  thing  of,  the  modesty  natural  to 
him.  So  noble  and  majestic  a  deportment  displeased 
niul  gave  offence.  It  i*  common  for  judges,'  who 

t  Plat.  p.  34,  35 

»  Socrates  ita  in  juclirio  capitis  pro  se  ipse  dixit,  ut  noil 
wipplex  aut  run*.  Red  minister  aut  dominux  virleretnr  e«se 
>dieum.  Cie  I.  i  de  Oral.  n.  231. 

»  Odit,  jufli.-x  fnrfi  litii-amis  liecnritntem ;  cilmque  ju» 
fiiim  intelfifat,  tarit  us  revercntiam  postulat  Quint,  l.'iv. 


look  upon  themselves  as  the  absolute  dispense!*  o 
life  or  death  to  such  as  are  before  them,  lo  expect 
out  of  a  secret  tendency  of  mind,  that  they  should 
appear  in  their  presence  with  humble  submission  and 
respectful  awe;  an  homage  which  they  think  due 
to  their  supreme  authority. 

This  was  what  happened  now.  Melitu*,  however, 
had  not  at  first  the  filth  part  of  the  voices.  We  have 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  judges  assembled  upon 
this  occasion  anight  amount  to  ffve  hundred,  without 
reckoning  the  president.  The  law  condemned  the 
accuser  to  pay  a  fine  of  a  thousand  drachmas,*  if  he 
had  not  the  fifth  part  of  the  suffrages.  This  law  had 
been  wisely  established  to  check  the  boldness  and 
impudence  of  calumniators.  Melitus  would  have 
been  obliged  to  pay  this  fine,  if  Anytus  and  Lycon 
had  not  joined  him,  and  presented  themselves  also 
as  the  accusers  of  Socrates.  Their  influence  drew 
over  a  great  number  of  voices,  and  there  were  two 
hundred  and  eighty-one  against  Socrates,  and  con- 
sequently only  two  hundred  and  twenty  for  him.  H« 
wanted  no  more  than  thirty-one  to  have  been  acquit- 
ted,5 for  he  would  then  have  had  two  hundred  and 
fifty-one,  which  would  have  been  the  majority. 

By  this  first  sentence  the  judges  only  declared  So- 
crates guilty,  without  decreeing  against  him  any 
penalty.6  For  when  the  law  did  not  determine  the 
punishment,  and  when  a  crime  against  the  state  was 
not  in  question  (in  which  manner  I  conceive  Cicero's 
expression,  fraus  capitalis,  may  be  understood,)  the 
person  found  guilty  had  a  right  to  choose  the  penalty 
he  thought  he  deserved.  Upon  his  answer  the  judge* 
I  deliberated  a  second  time,  and  afterwards  passed 
their  final  sentence.  Socrates  was  informed  that  he 
might  demand  an  abatement  of  the  penalty,  and 
change  the  condemnation  of  death  into  banishment, 
imprisonment,  or  a  fine.  He  replied  generously,  that 
he  would  choose  neither  of  those  punishments,  be- 
cause that  would  be  to  acknowledge  himself  guilty. — 
"Athenians,"  said  he,  "to  keep  you  no  longer  in 
suspense,  as  you  oblige  me  to  sentence  myself  accor- 
ding to  what  I  deserve,  I  condemn  myself,  for  having 
passed  my  life  in  instructing  yourselves  and  your 
children;  for  having  neglected  with  that  view  my  do- 
mestic affairs,  and  all  public  employments  and  digni- 
ties; for  having  devoted  myself  entirely  to  the  service 
of  my  country,  in  labouring  incessantly  to  render  mv 
fellow-citizeng  virtuous;  I  condemn  myself,  I  say,  to 
be  maintained  in  the  Prytanetim  at  the.  expense  of  the 
republic  for  the  rest  of  my  life. "7  This  last  answer 
so  much  offended  the  judges,8  that  they  condemned 
him  to  drink  hemlock,  a  punishment  very  much  in 
use  amongst  them. 

This  sentence  did  not  shike  the  constancy  of  So- 
crates in  the  least.9  "I  am  going,"  said  he,  addres- 
sing himself  to  his  judges  with  a  noble  tranquillity, 
"to  suffer  death  by  your  order,  to  which  nature  had 
condemned  me  from  the  first  moment  of  lay  birth; 
but  my  accusers  will  suffer  no  less  from  infamy  and 
injustice  by  the  decrees  of  truth.  Did  you  expect 
from  me,  that  to  extricate  myself  out  of  your  hands. 


«  About25/. 

»  The  text  varies  in  Pinto:  it  says,  thirty-three,  or  thirty; 
whence  it  is  probnhly  (Infective. 

«  Primis  sententiis  statuebant  lantiim  jv.liws,  damnarent 
an  ahsolverent.  Krat  autem  Athenis,  reo  damnato,  si  frnui 
capitalia  non  eisel,  quasi  pause  testimatm.  Ex  EcntrntiA, 
cum  judieibns  daretur,  interrojiabatnr  reus,  quam  quasi  tet- 
timationem  eommcruisse  so  ma.xime  confitcretur.  Cic.  1.  i. 
de  Oral.  n.  231,232. 

'  It  appears  in  Plato,  that  nfter  thi»  discourse,  Pocrate*, 
without  doubt  lo  remove  from  himself  an  imputation  of 
priile  and  contumacy,  modestly  offered  to  pay  a  fine  propor- 
tionate to  hi*  indigene/),  that  is  to  say,  "tie  niinm  (fifty 
livres),  nnrl  lha',  at  the  solicitation  of  his  friends,  who  had 
bound  themselves  for  him,  he  rose  in  his  offer  to  thirty 
minte.  Plat,  in  Jt-polng.  Socrat.  p.  38.  But  Xenophon 
positively  asserts  the  contrary,  p.  705.  This  difference  may 
be  reconciled,  perhaps,  by  xuppncing  that  Socrates  fefiised 
at  first  to  make  any  offer,  and  that  be  sufficed  himself  a* 
length  to  he  overcome  by  the  earnest  solicitations  of  hi* 
friends. 

•  Cujus  renponso  sic  judicea  exarserunt,  nt  cnpitis  homl 
nem  innocent imtmum  condemnarent.  Cic.l.i.  de  Oral  n.233 

•  Plut.  p.  39. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


391 


>  should  have  employed,  according  to  the  custom, 
flattery  and  pathetic  expressions,  and  the  timorous 
and  grovelling  behaviour  of  a  suppliant?  But  in 
trials.,  as  well  as  war,  an  honest  man  ought  not  to  use 
all  sorts  of  means  for  the  preservation  of  his  life.  It 
is  equally  dishonourable  both  in  the  one  and  in  the 
other,  to  ransom  it  only  bv  prayers  and  tears,  and  all 
those  other  abject  methods  which  you  see  every  day 
practised  by  people  in  my  present  condition." 

Apollodorus,  who  was  one  of  his  friends  and  disci- 
ples, having  advanced  to  him  to  express  his  grief  for 
his  dying  innocent:  "  What,"  replied  he,  with  a 
smile,  "would  you  have  me  die  guilty?" 

Plutarch,1  to  show  that  only  our  weakest  part,  the 
body,  is  in  the  power  of  man,  but  that  there  is  another 
infinitely  more  noble  part  of  us  entirely  superior  to 
their  threats,  and  inaccessible  to  their  attacks,  cites 
these  admirable  words  of  Socrates,  which  are  more 
applicable  to  his  judges  than  his  accusers:  Jlnyttts 
tnd  JWeliltts  may  kill  me,  but  they  cannot  hurt  me. 
\s  if  he  had  said,  in  the  language  of  the  Pagans: 
Fortune  may  deprive  me  of  my  goods,  my  health, 
»nd  my  life;  but  I  have  a  treasure  within  me,  of 
which  no  external  violence  can  deprive  me;  I  mean 
virtue,  innocence,  fortitude,  and  greatness  of  mind. 

This  great  man,*  fully  convinced  of  the  principle 
be  had  so  often  inculcated  to  his  disciples — that  guilt 

the  onlv  evil  a  wise  man  ought  to  fear, — chose 
ather  to  be  deprived  of  some  years  which  he  mischt 
perhaps  have  to  live,  than  to  forfeit  in  an  instant  the 
glory  of  his  whole  past  life,  in  dishonouring  himself 
for  ever  by  the  shameful  behaviour  he  was  advised  to 
observe  towards  his  judges.  Seeing  that  his  contem- 
poraries had  but  a  slisrht  knowledge  of  him,  he  re- 
ferred himself  to  the  judgment  of  posterity;  and,  by 
the  generous  sacrifice  of  the  remnant  of  a  life  already 
ft.r  advanced,  acquired  and  secured  to  himself  the 
esteem  and  admiration  of  all  succeeding  ages. 

SECTION    VII.— SOCRATES    REFUSES   TO    ESCAPE 
OUT  OF   PRISON.      HE   PASSES  THE    LAST  DAY  OF 
IJIS     LIFE    IN    DISCOURSING    WITH    HIS    FRIENDS 
UPON    THF.    IMMORTALITY    OF    THE     SOUL.       HE 
DRINKS   THE    POISON.       PUNISHMENT   OF   HIS   AC- 
CUSERS.     HONOURS   PAID  TO   HIS   MEMORY. 
AFTER  the  sentence  had   been  passed  upon  him, 
Socrates,*  with  the  same  intrepid  aspect  with  which 
he  had  held  the  tyrants  in  awe,  went  forward  towards 
the  prison,  which  lost  that  name,  says  Seneca,  when 
he  entered  if,  and  became  the  residence  of  virtue  and 
probity.     His  friends  followed  him  thither,  and  con- 
tinued to  visit  him  during  thirty  days,  which  passed 
between  his  condemnation  and  death.     The  cause  of 
that  long  delay  was,  the  Athenians  sent  every  year  a 
ship  to  the  isle  of  Delos,  to  offer  certain  sacrifices; 
and  it  was  prohibited  to  put  any  person  to  death  in 
the  city,  from  the  lime  that  the  priest  of  Apollo  had 
crowned  the  poop  of  this  vessel,  as  a  signal  of  its  de- 
parture, till  the  same  vessel  should  return.     So  that 
sentence  having  been   passed  upon  Socrates  the  day- 
after  that  ceremony  bejran,  it  was   necessary  to  defer 
the  execution  of  it  thirty  days,  during  the  continu- 
ance of  this  voyage. 

In  thns  long  interval,  death  had  sufficient  oppor- 
tunity to  present  itself  before  his  eyes  in  all  its  ter- 
rors, and  to  put  his  constancy  to  the  proof,  not  only 
by  the  severe  rigour  of  a  dunireon,  and  the  irons  upon 
hl»  legs,  hut  by  the  continual  prospect  and  cruel 
expectation  of  an  event  which  nature  always  abhors. 
In  this  sad  condition  he  did  not  cease  to  enjoy  that 


»  IV  snim.  tranquil   p.  475. 

»  M:iluit  vir  ^aiiicnlissimui  quod  supprescet  ex  vit4  «ibi 
pcnri'.  <|iiain  quod  pr.Tti-risset  :  ct  quando  ah  hnminiKuB  sui 
tenii>ciri«  pnrum  inU'lliyrhalur,  posterorum  so  judiciia  re»pr- 
vavit.  lip'vi  Hi'trimonto  jam  ultim»  *enc<Muti«  scvum  «ecu- 
lornm  omnium  ronsrrulus  Quint.  \.  i  c.  1. 

'  BueraiM aadea  ill"  vuliu.  quo  aliquumlo  «>lu»  trijinta 
tvranno*  in  ordiiirin  redejrerat.  rarrcrem  in'ravit.  ignnmi- 
ni;im  i|i<i  loon  <li'trarturu«.  \Vque  rnim  |K>trral  rnri-f-r 
virteri.  in  quo  Socrates  prat.  Sence.  in  Can  sol.  ad  Helvet. 
F.  x  ii. 

So<  ratps  cam>rem  intrandn  purgavit.  omnu,  «  honeuio- 
tin  cwria  icddidit  Id.  dr  tit,  beat.  c.  xxvii. 


profound  tranquillity  ot  mind  which  nis  menus  had 
alwa\s  admired  in  nun.*  He  conversed  with  them 
with  the  same  temper  he  had  always  expressed;  and 
Crito  observes,  that  the  evening  before  his  death  he 
slept  as  peaceably  aa  at  any  other  time.  He  even  at 
that  time  composed  a  hymn  in  honour  of  Apollo  and 
Diana,  and  turned  one  of  ^Esop's  fables  into  verse. 

The  day  before,  or  the  same  day  that  the  ship  was 
to  arrive  from  Dtlos,  the  return  of  which  was  to  he 
followed  by  the  death  of  Socrates,  Crito,  his  intimate 
friend,  came  to  him  early  in  the  morning  to  let  him 
know  that  mournful  news,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
inform  him  that  it  depended  only  upon  himself  to  quit 
the  prison;  that  the  jailor  was  gained;  that  he  would 
find  the  doors  open,  and  offered  him  a  safe  retreat  in 
Thessalv.  Socrates  laughed  at  this  proposal,  and 
asked  him,  whether  he  knew  any  place  out  of  Attica 
where  people  did  not  die  ?  Crito  urged  the  tiling 
very  seriously,  and  pressed  him  to  take  advantage  ol 
so  precious  an  opportunity,  adding  arguments  upon 
arguments  to  induce  his  consent,  and  to  engage  him 
to  resolve  upon  his  escape.  \Vithout  mentioning  the 
inconsolable  grief  he  should  sutler  for  the  death  of 
such  a  friend,  how  should  he  support  the  reproaches 
of  an  infinity  of  people,  who  would  believe  that  it  was 
in  his  power  to  have  saved  him,  but  that  he  would  not 
sjft-.rifice  a  small  part  of  his  wealth  for  that  purpose? 
Could  the  people  ever  be  persuaded  that  so  wise  a 
man  as  Socrates  would  not  quit  his  prison,  when  he 
might  do  it  with  all  possible  security  ?  Perhaps  he 
might  fear  to  expose  his  friends,  or  to  occasion  the  loss 
of  their  fortunes,  or  even  of  their  lives  or  liberty. 
Ought  there  to  be  any  thing  more  dear  and  precious 
to  them  than  the  preservation  of  Socrates?  Even 
strangers  themst  Ives  dispute  th«t  honour  with  them; 
many  of  whom  have  come  expressly  with  considerable 
sums  of  money  to  purchase  his  escape;  and  declare, 
that  they  should  think  themselves  highly  honoured 
to  receive  him  amongst  them,  and  to  supply  him 
abundantly  with  all  he  should  have  occasion  for. 
Ought  he  then  to  abandon  himself  to  enemies,  who 
have  occasioned  his  being  condemned  unjustly;  and 
can  he  think  it  allowable  to  betray  his  own  cause? 
Is  it  not  essential  to  his  goodness  and  justice  to  spare 
his  fellow-citizens  the  guilt  of  innocent  blood?  But 
if  all  these  motives  cannot  alter  him,  and  he  is  not 
concerned  with  regard  to  himself,  can  he -be  insensi 
ble  to  the  interests  of  his  children?  In  what  a  con- 
dition does  he  leave  them?  And  can  ho  forget  the 
father,  only  to  remember  the  philosopher? 

Socrates,  after  having  heard  him  with  attention, 
praised  his  zeal,  and  expressed  his  gratitude:  but 
before  he  could  accede  to  his  opinion,  was  for  exa- 
mining whether  it  was  just  for  him  to  depart  out  of 
prison  without  the  consent  of  the  Athenians.  The 
question,  therefore,  here  is  to  know,  whether  a  man 
condemned  to  die,  though  unjustly,  ci-.n  without  a 
crime  escape  from  justice  and  the  laws?  I  do  not 
know,  whether  amongst  us,  there  are  many  persons 
to  be  found  who  would  believe  that  this  could  be 
made  a  question. 

Socrates  begins  with  removing  every  thing  foreign 
to  the  subject,  and  conies  immediately  to  the  bottom 
of  the  affair.  "  I  should  certainly  rejoice  extremely, 
my  dear  Crito,  if  you  could  persuade  me  to  quit  thin 
place,  but  cannot  resolve  to  do  so  without  being  first 
persuaded.  We  ought  not  to  concern  ourselves  for 
what  the  people  may  say,  but  for  what  the  sole  Judge 
of  all  that  is  just  or  unjust  shall  say,  and  that  alone 
is  truth.  All  the  considerations  you  have  alleged,  as 
money,  reputation,  family,  prove  nothing,  unless  you 
show  me  that  what  you  propose  is  just  and  lawful. 
It  is  a  received  and  constant  principle  with  us,  that 
all  injustice  is  shameful  and  fatal  to  him  that  commits 
it,  whatever  men  may  say,  or  whatever  good  or  evil 
may  ensue  from  it.  We  have  always  reasoned  from 
this  principle  even  to  our  If.test  days,  and  have  never 
departed  in  the  least  from  it.  Would  it  he  possible, 
dear  Crito,  that  at  our  age  our  most  serious  discourses 
should  resemble  those  of  infants,  who  say  Yes  and 
No  almost  in  the  same  breath,  and  have  no  fixed  and 


flat,  in  Criton. 


392 


HISTORY  OF   THE 


neternnatr  notion?" — At  each  proposition  he  waited 
Cntd's  aiisv.-ir  and  assent. 

L«t  us  therefore  resume  cur  principles,  and  en- 
deaxour  to  niuke  use  of  them  at  this  time.  It  has 
iil«n\«  been  a  maxiin  with  us,  that  it  is  never  allow- 
able upon  anv  pretence  whatsoever  to  commit  injus- 
tice, not  evt-n  in  regard  to  those  who  injure  us,  nor 
to  return  evil  tor  evil;  and  that  when  we  have  once 
engaged  our  word,  we  are  bound  to  keep  it  inviola- 
ble; no  interest  being  capable  to  dispense  with  it. 
Now,  if  at  the  lime  1  should  be  ready  to  make  my 
escape,  the  laws  and  republic  should  present  them- 
selves in  a  body  before  me,  what  could  I  answer 
to  the  following  questions  which  they  might  put  to 
•  me?  '  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Socrates  .'  Is  flying 
from  justice  in  this  manner  aught  else  than  ruining 
entirely  the  laws  and  ihe  republic?  Do  you  believe 
that  a  «tatf  can  subsist,  alter  justice  is  not  only  no 
longrr  in  force  in  it,  but  is  even  corrupted,  subverted, 
and  trod  under  foot  by  individuals?'  But,  it  may  be 
laid,  the  republic  has  done  me  injustice,  and  has  sen- 
tenced me  wrongfully.  '  Have  you  forgot,'  the  laws 
would  reply,  'that  you  are  under  an  agreement  with 
us  to  submit  your  private  judgment  to  that  of  the 
republic?  You  were  at  liberty,  if  our  government 
and  regulations  did  not  suit  you,  to  retire  and  settle 
yourself  elsewhere:  but  a  residence  of  seventy  years 
in  our  city  sufficiently  denotes  that  our  regulations 
have  not  displeased  you,  and  that  you  have  complied 
with  them  from  an  entire  knowle.dge.  and  experience 
of  them,  and  out  of  choice.  In  fact  you  owe  all  you 
are,  and  all  you  possess,  to  them;  birth,  nurture, 
education,  and  establishment:  for  all  these  proceed 
from  the  tuition  and  protection  of  the  republic.  Do 
you  believe  yourselt  free  to  break  through  engage- 
ments with  her,  which  you  have  confirmed  by  more 
than  one  oath?  Though  she  should  intend  to  destroy 
you,  can  you  render  her  evil  for  evil,  and  injury  for 
injury?  Have  you  a  right  to  act  in  that  manner  to- 
wards your  father  and  mother;  and  do  you  not  know 
that  your  country  is  more  considerable,  and  more 
worthy  of  respect  before  God  and  man,  than  either 
father  or  mother,  or  all  the  relations  in  the  world  toge- 
ther; that  your  country  is  to  be  honoured  and  revered, 
to  be  complied  with  in  her  excesses,  and  to  be  treated 
with  tenderness  and  kindness  even  in  her  most  violent 
proceedings?  in  a  word,  that  she  is  either  to  be  re- 
claimed by  wise  counsels  and  respectful  remonstran- 
ce*, or  to  be  obeyed  in  her  commands,  and  all  she 
shall  decree  sutiered  without  murmuring?  A*  for 
your  children,  Socrates,  your  friends  will  render 
them  all  the  services  in  their  power;  at  least  the 
Divine  Providence  will  not  fail  them.  Resign  your- 
self therefore  to  our  reasons,  and  take  the  counsel  of 
•  those  who  have  given  you  birth,  nurture,  and  educa- 
cation.  Set  not  so  high  a  value  upon  your  children, 
your  life,  or  any  thing  in  the  world,  as  upon  justice; 
that  when  you  appear  before  the  tribunal  of  Pluto, 
you  may  not  be  at  a  loss  to  defend  yourself  in  the 
presence  of  your  judge*.  But  if  you  demean  your- 
self otherwise,  we  shall  continue  your  enemies  as  long 
as  you  live,  without  ever  affording  you  relaxation  or 
repose;  and  when  you  are  dead,  our  sisters,  the  laws 
in  the  regions  below,  will  be  as  little  favourable  to 
you;  knowing  that  you  have  been  guilty  of  using 
your  utmost  endeavours  to  destroy  us."  ** 

Socrates  observed  to  Crito.  that'he  seemed  actually 
tn  hear  all  he  had  said,  and  that  the  sound  of  these 
words  echoed  so  continually  in  his  ears,  that  they  en- 
tirely engrossed  him,  and  left  him  no  other  thoughts 
or  words.  Crito,  agreeing  in  fact  that  he  had  nothing 
to  reply,  continued  silent,  and  withdrew  from  his 
friend. 

At  length  the  fatal  ship  returned  to  Athens,  which 
wa*  in  a  manner  the  signal  for  the  death  of  Socrates.1 
The  next  day  all  his  friends,  except  Plato,  who  was 
sick,  repaired  to  the  prison  early  in  the  morning. 
The  jailor  desired  them  to  wait  a  little,  because  the 
eleven  magistrates  (who  had  the  direction  of  the 
prison*)  were  at  that  time  signifying  to  the  prisoner 
that  he  was  to  die  the  same  day.  Presently  after  they 


i  Plat  in 


.  p  59,  fcc. 


entered,  and  found  Socrates,  whose  chains  had  beei 
taken  oil,1  sitting  by  Xantippe  his  wile,  who  held  on* 
of  his  children  in  her  arms.  As  soon  as  she  perceived 
them  she  uttered  piercing  cries,  sobbing,  and  tearing 
her  face  and  hair,  and  made  the  prism  resound  with 
her  complaints.  "Oh  my  dear  Socrates. your  friends 
are  come  to  see  you  this  day  for  the  last  time!"  He 
desired  that  she  might  be  taken  away,  and  she  wa» 
immediately  carried  home. 

Socrates  passed  the  rest  of  the  day  with  his  friends, 
and  conversed  with  them  with  his  usual  cheerfulness) 
and  tranquillity.  The  subject  of  conversation  was 
most  important,  and  well  suited  to  his  present  c  ondi 
lion  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  immortality  of  the  soul 
What  gave  occasion  to  this  discourse  was  a  question 
introduced  in  a  manner  by  chance,  \Vhethera  true 
philosopher  ought  not  to  desire  and  take  pains  to 
die?  This  proposition,  taken  too  literally,  implied 
an  opinion  that  a  philosopher  might  kil'l  himself. 
Socrates  shows  that  nothing  is  more  unjust  than  this 
notion;  and  that  man,  appertaining  to  God,  who 
formed  and  placed  him  with  bis  own  hand  in  the  post 
he  possesses,  cannot  abandon  it  without  his  permis- 
sion, nor  quit  lite  without  his  order.  \Yliat  is  it  then 
that  can  induce  a  philosopher  to  entertain  this  love 
for  death?  It  can  be  only  the  hope  of  that  happiness 
which  he  expects  in  another  lite,  and  that  hope  can 
be  founded  only  upon  the  opinion  of  the  soul's  im- 
mortality. 

Socrales  employed  the  Inst  day  of  hi.«  life  in  enter- 
taining his  friends  upon  this  great  and  important  sub- 
ject, from  which  conversation  Plato's  admirable  dia- 
logue, entitled  Phctdon,  is  wholly  taken.  He,  explain* 
to  his  friends  all  the  arguments  fur  believing  the  soul 
immortal,  and  refutes  all  the  objections  against  it. 
which  are  very  near  the  same  as  are  made  al  this  day. 
This  treatise  is  too  long  tor  me  to  attempt  an  ab- 
stract of  it. 

Before  he  answers  an)-  of  these  objections,8  he  de- 
plores a  misfortune  common  enough  amongst  meo, 
who,  in  consequence  of  hearing  ignorant  person*, 
that  contradict  and  doubt  every  thing,  dispute,  and 
believe  there  is  nothing  certain.  "  Is  it  not  a  great 
misfortune,  dear  Phaedon,  that  having  reasons  which 
are  true,  certain,  and  very  easy  to  be  understood, 
there  should,  however,  be  persons  in  the  world  who 
are  not  at  all  aliened  with  them,  from  their  having 
heard  those  frivolous  disputes  wherein  all  things  ap- 
pear sometimes  true  and  sometimes  false.  These  un- 
just and  unreasonable  men,  instead  of  blaming  them- 
selves for  these  doubts,  or  imputing  them  to  the  nar- 
rowness of  their  own  capacities,  by  ascribing  the  de- 
fect to  the  reasons  themselves,  proceed  at  length  to  A 
detestation  of  them,  and  believe  themselves  more 
judicious  and  better  informed  than  all  others,  because 
they  imagine  they  are  the  only  persons  who  compre- 
hend thai  there  is  nothing  true  or  certain  in  the  na- 
ture of  things." 

Socrates  demonstrates  the  injustice  of  this  pro- 
ceeding. He  observes,  that  of  two  things  equally 
uncertain,  wisdom  enjoins  us  to  choose  that  which  is 
most  advantageous  with  least  hazard.  ••  If  what  I 
advance,"  savs  he,  "  upon  the  immortality  of  the 
soul  proves  true,  it  is  good  to  believe  it;  and  if  after 
my  death  it  proves  false  I  shall  still  have  drawn  from 
it  in  this  lite  this  advantage. — of  having  been  leM 
sensible  here  of  the  evil*  which  generally  attend 
human  life."  This  reasoning  of  Socrates*  (which 
is  real  and  true  in  the  mouth  of  a  Christian  alone) 
is  very  remarkable.  If  what  I  say  is  tine,  I  gain 
every  thing,  whilst  I  hazard  very  little:  and  if  false, 
I  lose  nothing;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  still  a  great 
gainer. 

Socrates  does  not  confine  himself  to  the  merr  spe- 
culation of  this  great  truth,  that  the  soul  is  immor- 
tal; he  draws  from  it  useful  and  necessary  conclu- 


1  At  Alhenn  c«  noon  n«  nentenee  wan  pronounced  upon  • 
criminal,  he  wan  unlxiunr),  and  considered  a*  tlir  victim  of 
death,  whom  it  wai  no  longer  lawful  to  keep  in  chains. 

»  Plat.  p. '.10.  91. 

4  Monnieur  Pascal  has  expatiated  upon  this  reasoning  to 
hi*  seventh  article,  and  deduced  from  it  a  demonstration  rf 
infinite  force. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


31)3 


lioni  for  the  conduct  of  life,  in  explaining  what  the 
hope  of  a  happy  eternity  demands  from  man,  that  it 
oe  not  frustrated,  and  that  instead  of  attaining  the 
•rewards  prepared  for  the  good,  they  do  not  expe- 
rience the  punishment  allotted  for  the  wicked.  The 
philosopher  here  sets  forth  these  great  truths,  which 
a  constant  tradition,  though  very  much  obscured  by 
fiction  and  fable,  had  always  preserved  amongst  the 
Pagans:  the  last  judgment  of  the  righteous  and 
wicked  ;  the  eternal  punishments  to  which  great  crim- 
inals  are  condemned;  a  place  of  peace  and  joy  with- 
out end  for  the  souls  that  have  retained  their  purity 
and  innocence,  or  which  during  this  life  have  ex- 
piated their  offences  by  repentance  and  satisfaction; 
and  an  intermediate  state,  in  which  they  purify  them- 
f<lv«s  for  a  certain  time,  from  less  considerable 
crimes  that  have  not  been  atoned  for  during  this  lite. 

"  My  ii  it  m1-,1  there  is  still  one  thing,  which  it  is 
very  just  to  believe;  and  this  is,  that  if  the  soul  be 
immortal,  it  requires  to  be  cultivated  with  attention, 
not  only  for  what  we  call  the  time  of  life,  but  for 
that  which  is  to  follow,  I  mean  eternity;  and  the 
least  neglect  in  this  point  may  be  attended  with  end- 
less consequences.  If  death  were  the  final  dissolu- 
tion of  being,  the  wicked  would  be  great  gainers  by 
it,  as  being  delivered  at  once  from  their  bodies,  their 
souls,  and  their  vices;  but  as  the.  soul  is  immortal, 
it  has  no  other  means  of  being  freed  from  its  evils, 
nor  any  safety  for  itself,  but  in  becoming  very  good 
and  very  prudent;  for  it  carries  nothing  away  with 
it  but  it;)  good  or  bad  deeds,  its  virtues  or  vices, 
which  are  Commonly  the  consequence  of  the  educa- 
tion it  has  received,  and  the  causes  of  eternal  happi- 
ness or  misery. 

"  When  the  dead  are  arrived  at  the  fatal  rendez- 
vous of  departed  souls,  whither  their  daemon*  con- 
ducts them,  they  are  all  judged.8  Those  who  have 
passed  their  lives  in  a  manner  neither  entirely' crimi- 
nal nor  absolutely  innocent,  lire  sent  into  a  place 
where  they  sutler  pains  proportioned  to  their  faults, 
till  being  purged  and  cleansed  of  their  guilt,  and 
afterwards  restored  to  liberty,  they  receive  the 
reward  of  the  good  actions  they  Lave  done  in  the 
body.  Those  who  are  judged  to  be  incurable  on  ac- 
count of  the  greatness  of  their  crimes,  who  delibe- 
rately and  wilfully  have  committed  sacrileges  and 
murders,  and  other  such  great  offences,  the  fatal  des- 
tiny that  passes  judgment  upon  them  hurls  them  into 
Tartarus,  from  whence  they  never  depart.  But 
those  who  are  found  guilty  of  crimes,  great  indeed, 
but  worthy  of  pardon;  who  have  committed  violen- 
ces in  the  transports  of  rage  against  their  father  or 
mother,  or  have  killed  some  i*e  in  a  like  emotion, 
and  afterwards  repented;  these  sutler  the  same  pun- 
ishment and  in  the  same  place  with  the  last,  but  for 
a  time  only,  till  by  their  prayers  and  supplications 
they  have  obtained  pardon  from  those  they  have  in- 
jured. 

"  But,  for  those  who  have  passed  through  life  with 
peculiar  sanctitv  of  manners,  delivered  from  their 
base  earthly  abodes  as  from  a  prison,  they  are  receiv- 
ed on  high  in  a  pure  region  which  they  inhabit;  and, 
as  philosophy  has  sufficiently  purified  them,  they  live 
without  their  bodies*  through  all  eternity  in  a  series 
of  joys  and  delights  which  it  is  not  easy  to  describe, 
and  which  the  shortness  of  my  time  will  not  permit 
me  to  explain  more  at  large. 

"  \Vhat  I  have  said  will  suffice,  I  conceive,  to 
prove  that  we  ought  to  endeavour  strenuously 
throughout  our  whole  lives  to  acquire  virtue  and 
wisdom;  for  you  see  how  great  a  reward  and  how 
high  a  hope  are  proposed  to  us.  And  though  the 
Immortality  of  the  soul  were  dubious,  instead  of  ap- 
pearing a  certainty  as  it  doe?,  every  wise  man  ought 
to  assure  himself  that  it  is  well  worth  his  trouble  to 
risk  his  belief  of  it  in  this  manner.  And,  indeed, 
can  there  be  a  more  glorious  hazard?  We  ought  to 


>  Plat.  p.  107. 

*  DiTimin  IK  a  Greek  word,  which  lignifiea  ipirit.  peniui, 
*nd.  with  ;s.  nn-rl.  •  Plut.  p.  113,  IN. 

«  Th^  resurrection  of  the  body  was  unknown  to  the 
ftffcSi 

Vol.  '-SO. 


enchant  ourselves  with   this  hlesseo  hope,  for  whicfc 
reason  1  have  lengthened  this  discourse  so  much.** 

Cicero  expresses  these  noble  sentiments  of  Socra- 
tes with  his  usual  delicacy.  Almost  at  the  very  mo 
nit  nt.*  says  he,  that  he  had  held  the  deadly  draught 
in  his  hands,  he  talked  in  such  a  manner  as  show- 
ed that  he  looked  upon  death  not  us  a  violence 
done  to  him,  but  as  a  means  bestowed  upon  him 
of  ascending  to  heaven.  He  declared  that,  upon 
departing  out  of  this  life,  two  ways  are  open  to  us: 
the  one  leads  to  the  place  of  eternal  misery  for  such 
souls  as  have  sullied  themselves  here  brlow  in  shame- 
ful pleasures  and  criminal  actions;  the  other  con 
ducts  those  to  the  happy  mansions  of  the  gods  who 
have  retained  their  purity  upon  earth,  and  have 
led  in  human  bodies  a  life  almost  divine. 

When  Socrates  had  done  speaking,6  Crito  desired 
him  to  give  him  and  the  rest  of  his  friends  his  last 
instructions  in  regard  to  his  children,  and  his  other 
affair.*,  that  by  executing  them  they  might  have  the 
consolation  of  doing  him  some  pleasure.  "  1  shall 
recommend  nothing  to  you  this  day,"  replied  Socra- 
tes, "  more  than  I  have  always  clone,  which  U  to  take 
care  of  yourselves.  You  cannot  do  yourselves  a 
greater  service,  nor  do  me  and  my  family  a  greater 
pleasure."  Crito  having  asked  him  afterwards  in 
what  manner  he  wished  to  be  buried:  "As  you 
please,"  said  Socrates,  "  if  you  can  lay  hold  of  me 
and  I  do  not  escape  out  of  your  hands."  At  the 
same  time  looking  upon  his  friend  with  a  smile;  "  I 
can  never  persuade  Crito,"  says  he,  "  that  Socrate* 
is  he  who  converses  with  you,  and  disposes  the  sev- 
eral parts  of  his  discourse:  for  he  always  imagines 
that  1  am  what  he  is  going  to  see  dead  in  a  little 
while.  He  confounds  me  with  my  carcass,  and  there- 
fore askesme  how  1  would  be  interred."  In  finishing 
these  words  he  rose  up  and  went  to  bathe  himself  in 
a  chamber  adjoining.  After  he  came  out  of  the  bath, 
his  children  were  brought  to  him,  for  he  had  three, 
two  very  little,  and  the  other  grown  up.  He  spoke 
to  them  for  some  time,  gave  his  orders  to  the  women 
who  took  care  of  them,  and  then  dismissed  them 
Being  returned  into  his  chamber,  he  laid  himself 
down  upon  his  bed. 

The  servant  of  the  Eleven  entered  at  the  same  in- 
stant, and  having  informed  him  that  the  time  for 
drinking  the  hemlock  was  come  (which  was  at  sun- 
set,) the  servant  was  so  much  aflecled  with  sorrow, 
that  he  turned  his  back  and  fell  a  weeping.  "See," 
said  Socrates,  "the  good  disposition  of  this  num! 
Since  my  imprisonment  he  has  often  come  to  see  me 
and  to  converse  with  me.  He  is  more  worthy  than 
all  his  fellow*.  How  heartily  the  poor  man  weens 
for  me!"  This  is  a  remarkable  example,  and  might 
teach  those  who  hold  an  office  of  this  kind  how 
they  ought  to  behave  to  all  prisoners,  but  more 
especially  to  persons  of  merit,  if  at  any  time  they 
should  happen  to  fall  into  their  hands.  The  fatal 
cup  was  brought.  Socrates  asked  what  it  was  neces- 
sary for  him  to  do.  "  Nothing  more,"  replied  the  ser- 
vant, "than  as  soon  as  you  have  drunk  oil  the  draught 
to  walk  about  till  you  find  your  legs  grow  weary, 
and  afterwards  lie  down  upon  your  bed."  He  toolc 
the  cup  without  any  emotion  or  change  in  his  co- 
lour or  countenance,  and  regarding  the  man  with  a 
firm  and  a  steady  look,  "  Well,"  said  he,"  what  «ay 
you  of  this  drink;  may  one  make  a  libation  out  of 
it?"  Upon  being  told  that  there  was  only  enough 
for  one  dose:  "At  least,"  continued  he,  "we  may 


•  Cum   pent  in  manu   jam  mortiferum  illud  'meret  po- 
ru'um,  Iccutui  ita  est,  ut  non  ad  mortem  truu..   rrrmn   in 
co-Ium   vidrretur    ascendere.      Ita   enim   consebat,   iiaque 
dicBcruit  :  dun  rase  via*  dupliceeque  cursus    animorum  4 
corpore  excedentium.     Nam,  qui   »e   hummus   vitiia  conta- 
mina-mcnl,  et  «e  lotos  libidinibu*  dedidissent.  quibu*  cnarc- 
tuli  velut  domestic!*  vitii*  alque  flagitiis  *'•  in<|uina«ient 
iigdcvium  quoddam   Mcr  ense,  gcclusum  a  consilio  ilforum  ' 
qui   antem  se    intepros   rattroque    servavissent,  quibufwiue 
fuiiwl    minima    rum    cor|K>ril>u«  contagio.  «cfeque    Mb  hit 
semper   »evocas*ent,    e^entque  in  corporibuB  humanit    »i« 
tarn  imitali  deurum,  hi«  ad  illng,  a  quibua  e««ent  profccti, 
rcditum  fiit-ilem  patere.     Cic.  Tv.sc.  Qu<rs(.  I.  1.  n.  71.  73 

•  Pag.  115— 118. 


394 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


•ay  our  prayers  to  the  gods,  a*  it  is  our  duty,  and  im- 
plore them  to  make  our  exit  from  this  world  and  our 
last  stage  happy,  which  is  what  I  most  ardently  beg1 
of  them."  After  having  spoken  these  words,  he  kept 
silence  for  some  time,  and  then  drank  oil  the  whole 
draught  with  an  amazing  tranquillity,  and  a  serenity 
of  aspect  not  to  be  expressed. 

Till  then  his  friends,  with  great  violence  to  them- 
selves, had  refrained  from  tears;  but  after  he  had 
drunk  the  potion,  they  were  no  longer  their  own  mas- 
ters, and  wept  abundantly.  Apollodorns,  who  had 
been  in  tears  during  almost  the  whole  conversation, 
began  then  to  utter  great  cries,  and  to  lament  with 
such  excessive  grief  as  pierced  the  hearts  of  all  that 
were  present.  Socrates  alone  remained  unmoved, 
a.id  even  reproved  his  friends,  though  with  his  usual 
mildness  and  good  nature.  "  What  are  you  doing?" 
said  he  to  them;  "  I  am  amazed  at  you.  Ah!  what 
has  become  of  your  virtue?  Was  it  not  for  this  I  sent 
away  the  women,  that  they  might  not  fall  into  these 
weaknesses.  For  I  have  always  heard  say  that  we 
ought  to  die  peaceably,  and  blessing  the  gods.  Be  at 
ease,  I  beg  you,  and  show  more  constancy  and  reso- 
lution." These  words  filled  them  with  confusion,  and 
obliged  them  to  restrain  their  tears. 

In  the  meantime  he  kept  walking  to  and  fro;  and 
when  he  found  his  legs  grow  weary,  he  lay  down  upon 
his  back  as  he  had  been  directed. 

The  poison  then  operated  more  and  more.  When 
Socrates  found  it  began  to  gain  upon  the  heart,  un- 
covering his  face,  which  had  been  covered,  without 
doubt  to  prevent  any  thing  from  disturbing  him  in  his 
last  moments.  "  Crito,"  said  he,  and  these  were  his 
last  words,  "  we  owe  acock  to  .£sculapius;  discharge 
that  vow  for  me,  and  pray  do  not  forget  it."  Soon 
after  which  he  breathed  his  last.  Crito  drew  near  and 
closed  his  mouth  and  eyes.  Such  was  the  end  of  So- 
crates, in  the  first  year  of  the  95th  Olympiad,  and  the 
seventieth  of  his  age.  Cicero  says  he  could  never 
read  the  description  of  his  death  in  Plato  without 
tears.1 

Plato  and  the  rest  of  Socrates's  disciples  appre- 
hending the  rage  of  his  accusers  was  not  satiated  by 
that  victim,  retired  to  Megara  to  the  house  of  Euclid, 
where  they  stayed  till  the  storm  blew  over.  Euripi- 
des, however,  to  reproach  the  Athenians  with  the 
horrible  crime  they  had  committed  in  condemning 
the  best  of  men  to  die  upon  such  slight  grounds,  com- 
posed his  tragedy  called  Palamedes,  in  which,  under 
the  name  of  that  hero,  who  was  also  destroyed  by 
u  foul  calumny,  he  deplored  the  misfortune  of  his 
friend.  When  the  actor  came  to  repeat  this  verse, 

You  doom  tho  juiteit  of  the  Greeks  to  perish  ; 

the  whole  theatre,  remembering  Socrates  by  so  mark- 
ed a  characteristic,  melted  into  tears,  and  a  decree 
patscd  to  prohibit  speaking  any  more  of  him  in  public. 
Some  believed  Euripides  was  dead  before  Socrates, 
and  reject  thin  anecdote. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  people  of  Athens  did  not 
open  their  eyes  till  some  time  after  tile  death  of  So- 
crates. Their  hatred  being  satisfied,  tijeir  prejudices 
were  dispelled,  and  time  having  gi-ren  them  oppor- 
tunity for  reflection,  the  notorious  injustice  of  the 
sentence  appeared  in  all  its  horrors.  Nothing  was 
heard  throughout  the  city  but  discourses  in  favour  of 
Socrates.  The  Academy,  the  Lyceum,  private  houses, 
public  walks,  and  market  places,  seemed  siil>  to  re- 
echo the  sound  of  his  loved  voice.  Here,  said  they, 
he  formed  our  youth,  and  taught  our  children  to  love 
their  country,  and  to  honour  their  parents.  In  this 
place  he  gave  us  his  admirable  lessons,  and  sometimes 
made  us  seasonable  reproaches,  to  engage  us  raore 
warmly  in  the  pursuit  of  virtue.  Alas!  how  have  WP 
rewarded  him  for  such  important  services?  Athens 
was  in  universal  mourning  i>nd  consternation.  Thi 
schools  were  stint  up,  and  all  exercises  suspended 
The  accusers  were  called  to  account  for  the  innocent 
blood  they  had  caused  to  be  shed.  Melitus  was  con- 
demned to  die  and  the  rest  banished.  Plutarch  ob- 

•  Quiil  ilicam  rte  Socrati,  cujnn  morti  Hlmcrynari  loleo 
FJatonem  legens  1  De  nat.  dear.  lib.  iii.  n.  82. 


serves,*  that  all  those  who  had  any  share  in  this 
calumny,  were  in  such  abomination  amfcngst  the  citi- 
zens, that  no  one  would  give  them  fire,  answer  them 
any  question,  nor  go  into  the  same  bath  with  them, 
and  had  the  place  cleansed  where  they  had  bathed, 
as  being  polluted  by  their  touching  it;  which  drove 
them  into  such  despair,  that  many  of  thtm  killed 
themselves. 

The  Athenians,*  not  contented  with  having  pun- 
ished his  accusers,  caused  a  statue  of  brass  to  be 
erected  to  him,  of  the  workmanship  of  the  celebrated 
Lysippus,  and  placed  it  in  one  of  the  most  conspicu- 
ous parts  of  the  city.  Their  respect  and  gratitude 
rose  even  to  a  religious  veneration;  thev  dedicated 
a  chapel  to  him,  as  to  u  hero  and  a  demigod,  which 
they  called  ZaxpaTiTov,  that  is  to  say,  the  chapel  of 
Socrates. 

SECTION  VIII.--REFLECT10NS  UPON  THE  SEN- 
TENCE PASSED  ON  SOCRATES  BY  THE  ATHENI- 
ANS, AND  UPON  SOCRATES  HIMSELF. 

WE  must  be  very  much  surprised,  when  on  the 
one  side  we  consider  the  extreme  delicacy  of  the 
people  of  Athens,  with  respect  to  what  regards  the 
Wbrship  of  the  gods,  which  ran  so  high  as  to  occasion 
their  condemning  the  most  eminent  person?  upon  the 
simple  suspicion  of  their  failing  in  respect  for  them; 
and.  on  the  other,  when  we  see  the  exceeding  tolera- 
tion, to  call  it  no  worse,  with  which  the  same  people 
hear  comedies  every  day,  in  which  all  the  gods  are 
turned  into  ridicule  in  a  manner  capable  of  inspiring 
the  highest  contempt  for  them.  All  Aristophanes' 
pieces  abound  with  pleasantries,  or  rather  buffoone- 
ries, of  this  kind;  and  if  it  is  true,  that  this  poet  did 
not  know  what  it  was  to  spare  the  greatest  men  of 
the  republic,  it  may  be  said  also  as  justly,  he  spared 
the  gods  still  less. 

Such4  were  the  daily  entertainments  in  the  theatre, 
which  the  people  of  Athens  heard  not  only  without 
pain,  but  with  such  joy,  pleasure,  and  applause,  that 
they  rewarded  the  poet  with  public  honours  who 
diverted  them  so  agreeably.  What  was  there  in 
Socrates  that  came  near  this  excessive  license1  Ne- 
ver did  any  person  of  the  pagan  world  speak  of 
the  Divinity,  or  of  the  adoration  due  to  him,  in  so 
pure,  so  noble,  and  so  respectful  a  manner.  He  did 
not  declare  against  the  gods  publicly  received  and 
honoured  by  a  religion  more  ancient  than  the  city; 
he  only  avoided  imputing  to  them  the  crimes  and 
infamous  action?,  which  the  popular  credulity  ascribed 
to  them,  and  which  were  only  calculated  to  depreci- 
ate and  decry  them  in  the  minds  of  the  people.  He 
did  not  blame  the  sacrifices,  festivals,  nor  the  other 
ceremonies  of  religion;  he  only  taught,  that  all  pomp 
and  outward  show  could  not  be  agreeable  to  the  gods 
without  uprightness  of  intention  and  purity  of  heart. 

This  wise,  this  illumined,  this  religious  niiin,  how- 
ever, with  all  his  veneration  and  noble  sentiments  in 
regard  to  the  Divinity,  is  condemned  as  an  impious 
pei-son  by  the  suffrages  of  almost  a  whole  people, 
without  his  accusers  being  able  to  instance  one  single 
avowed  fact,  or  to  produce  any  evidence  that  has  the 
least  appearance  01  probability. 

From  whence  could  so  evident,  so  universal,  and  so 
determinate  a  contradiction  arise  amongst  the  Athe- 
nians? A  people,  abounding  in  other  respects  with 
wit,  taste,  and  knowledge,  must  without  doubt  have 
had  their  reasons,  at  least  in  appearance,  for  a  con- 
duct so  different,  and  sentiments  so  opposite,  to  their 
general  character.  May  we  not  say,  that  the  Athe- 
nians considered  their  gods  in  a  double  light?  They 
confined  their  real  religion  to  the  public,  solemn,  and 
hereditary  worship,  as  they  had  received  it  from  their 
ancestors,  as  it  was  established  by  the  laws  ol  It.? 
state,  had  been  practised  from  immemorial  time,  anO 
especially  confirmed  by  the  oracles,  auguries,  offer 
in£s,  and  sacrifices.  It  is  by  this  standard  they  regu- 
late;! their  piety;  against  which  they  could  not  suffer 
the  leasi  at.'empt  whatsoever:  it  was  of  this  worship 
alone  that  they  t-ere  jcaiv'is.  it  was  for  the«e  ancient 
ceremonies  that  thej  were  MC*»  ardent  zealots;  and 


•  DC  invid.  et  otiio,  p.  538. 


g.  p.  116 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


393 


they  believed,  though  without  foundation,  that  Socra- 
tes was  an  enemv  to  them.  But  there  was  another 
kind  of  religion,  founded  upon  fable,  poetical  fictions, 
popular  opinions,  and  foreign  customs;  for  this  they 
were  little  concerned,  and  abandoned  it  entirely  to 
the  poets,  to  the  representations  of  the  theatre,  and 
common  cunrersation. 

What  grossness  did  they  not  attribute  to  Juno  and 
Venus? '  No  citizen  would  have  wished  that  his 
«rife  or  daughters  should  resemble  those  goddesses. 
Timotheus,  the  famous  musician,  having  represented 
Diana  upon  the  stage  of  Athens,  transported  with 
folly,  fury,  and  rage,  one  of  the  spectators  conceived 
be  could  not  utter  a  greater  imprecation  against  him, 
than  to  wish  his  daughter  might  resemble  that  di- 
vinity. It  is  better,  says  Plutarch,  to  believe  there 
»'e  no  gods,  than  to  imagine  them  of  this  kind;  open 
•ud  declared  impiety  being  less  profane,  if  we  may- 
be allowed  to  say  so,  than  so  gross  and  absurd  a 
tu|>»  rslition. 

However  it  be,  the  sentence,  of  which  we  have  re- 
lated the  circumstances',  will,  through  all  ages,  cover 
Athens  with  infamy  and  reproach,  which  all  the  splen- 
dour of  its  glorious  actions,  for  which  it  is  otherwise 
so  justly  renowned,  can  never  obliterate:  and  it  shows 
at  the  same  time  what  is  to  be  expected  from  a  people, 
gentle,  humane,  and  beneficent  at  bottom,  for  such  the 
Athenian*  really  were,  but  volatile,  proud,  haughty, 
Inconstant,  wavering  with  every  wind  and  every  im- 
pression. It  is  therefore  with  reason  that  public  as- 
semblies have  been  compared  to  a  tempestuous  sea; 
as  that  element,  like  the  people,  though  calm  and 
peaceable  of  itself,  is  subject  to  be  frequently  agitated 
by  a  violence  not  its  own. 

As  to  Socrates,  it  must  be  allowed  that  the  pagan 
world  never  produced  any  thing  so  great  and  perfect. 
When  we  observe  to  what  a  Height  he  carries  the 
sublimity  of  his  sentiments,  not  only  in  respect  to  the 
moral  virtues,  temperance,  sobrietv.  patience  in  ad- 
versity, the  love  of  poverty,  and  the  forgiveness  of 
wrongs:  but,  what  is  far  more  considerable,  in  regard 
lo  the  Divinity,  his  unity,  omnipotence,  creation  of 
the  world,  and  providence,  in  the  government  of  it; 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  its  ultimate  end  and  eter- 
nal destiny;  the  rewards  of  the  good  and  the  punish- 
ment of  the  wicked:  when  we  consider  this  train  of 
•ublime  knowledge,  we  ask  ourselves  whether  it  is  a 
pagan  who  thinks  and  speaks  in  this  manner;  and 
•re  scarce  persuaded  that  from  so  dark  and  obscure  a 
itork  as  paganism,  should  shine  forth  such  brilliant 
and  glorious  rays  of  light. 

It  is  true,  his  reputation  has  not  been  unimpeached, 
and  it  has  been  affirmed  that  the  puritv  of  his  man- 
ners did  not  corres|>ond  with  that  of  his  sentiments. 
This  question  has  been  discussed  by  the  learned,2 
but  IIH  plan  will  not  admit  me  to  treat  it  in  its  full 
extent.  The  reader  may  see  Abbe  Fraguier's  disser- 
tation in  defence  of  Socrates,  against  the  reproaches 
made  him  upon  account  of  his  conduct.  The  nega- 
tive argument  he  makes  use  of  in  his  justification 
seems  a  very  strong  one.  He  observes,  that  neither 
Aristophanes  in  his  comedy  of  The  Clouds,  which  is 
entirely  directed  against  Socrates,  nor  his  vile  ac- 
cuser* in  his  trial,  have  advanced  one  word  that  tends 
to  impeach  the  purity  of  his  manners:  and  it  is  not 
probable  that  such  violent  enemies  as  those  would 
have  negleded  one  of  the  most  likely  methods  to  dis- 
credit him  in  the  opinion  of  his  judges,  if  there  had 
beer.  MHV  foundation  or  probability  lor  the  use.  of  it. 

I  :  jntVss.  however,  that  certain  principles  of  Plato, 
his  disciple,  held  by  him  in  common  with  his  waster, 
with  respect  to  the  nudity  of  the  combatants  in  the 
public  games,  from  which  at  the  same  time  he  did  not 
exclude  the  fair  sex;  and  the  behaviour  of  Socrates 
himself,  who  wrestled  naked,  man  to  man  with  Alci- 
biades,  give  us  no  great  idea  of  thai  philosopher's 
delicacy  in  point  i,f  modesty  and  bathfulness.  What 
•hall  we  say  of  his  visit  to  Theodota.3  a  woman  of 
Athens  of  indifferent  reputation,  only  to  assure  him- 


t  Plat.  He  aoppreti;.  p.  170. 

»  Mpmniren  de  I'Arailemie  des  Insrript.  torn.  IT. 
Xenuph.  Meuiorab  1  iii.  p  783 — 786 


p.  373. 


self  with  his  own  eyes  of  her  extraordinary  beauty 
whirh  was  much  talked  of,  and  of  the  precepts  he  gav« 
her,  in  order  to  attract  admirers  and  to  retain  them 
in  her  snares?  Are  such  lessons  very  suitable  to  a 
philosopher?  I  pass  over  many  other  things  in 
silence. 

I  am  the  less  surprised  after  this,  that  several  of  the 
fathers  have  censured  him  in  regard  to  the  purity  of 
his  manners,  and  that  they  have  thought  fit  to  apply 
to  him,  as  well  as  to  his  disciple  Plato,  what  St.  Paul 
says  of  the  philosophers:4  That  God  bv  a  just  iudg- 
rnent  abandoned  them  to  a  reprobate  mind,  and  the 
most  shameful  lusts,  as  a  punishment;  for  that  having 
clear'y  known  there  was  but  one  true  God,  thev  had 
not  honoured  him  as  they  ought,  bv  publirlv  avowing 
their  belief,  and  were  not  asliamtd  to  associate  with 
him  an  innumerable  multitude  of  divinities,  ridiculous 
and  infamous  even  in  their  own  opinions. 

And  in  this,  properly  speaking,  consists  the  crime 
of  Socrates,  which  did"  not  make  him  guiltv  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Athenians,  but  gave  occasion  for  his 
being  justly  condemned  by  eternal  Truth.  She  had 
illuminated'  his  soul  with  the  most  pure  and  sublime 
lights  of  which  the  pagan  world  was  capable;  for 
we  are  not  ignorant  that  all  knowledge  of  God,  even 
natural,  cannot  come  but  from  himself  alcne.  He 
held  admirable  principles  on  the  subject  of  the  Divi- 
nity. He  agreeably  rallied  the  fables  of  the  poets 
upon  which  the  ridiculous  mysteries  of  his  age  were 
founded.  He  often  spoke,  and  in  the  most  exalted 
terms,  of  the  existence  of  one  only  God,  eternal,  in- 
visible, creator  of  the  universe,  supreme  director  and 
arbiter  of  all  events,  avenger  of  crimes  and  rewarder 
of  virtues;  but  he  had  not  the  courage  to  bear  public 
testimony  to  these  great  truths.5  He  perfectly  dis- 
cerned the  falsehood  and  absurdity  of  the  pagan  sys- 
tem; and  nevertheless,  as  Seneca  says  ot  the  w'ise 
man,  and  as  he  acted  himself,  he  observed  exaiSlr  all 
the  customs  and  ceremonies,  not  as  agreeable  to  the 
gods,  but  as  enjoined  by  the  laws.  He  acknowledged 
at  bottom  one  only  Divinity,6  and  worshipped  with 
the  people  that  multitude  of  infamous  idols  which 
ancient  superstition  had  heaped  up  during  a  long 
succession  of  ages.  He  held  peculiar  opinions  in  the 
schools,  but  followed  the  multitude  in  the  temples. 
As  a  philosopher,  he  despised  and  detested  the  idols 
in  secret;  as  a  citizen  of  Athens  and  a  senator,  he 
paid  them  in  public  the  same  adoration  with  others: 
by  so  much  the  more  worthy  of  blame,  says  St.  Au- 
gustip.,  as  thj.  worship,  which  was  only  external  and 
dissembled,  seemed  to  the  people  to  be  the  effect  of 
sincerity  and  conviction. 

And  it  cannot  be  said  that  Socrates  altered  his  con- 
duct at  the  end  of  his  life,  or  that  he  then  expressed 
a  greater  zeal  for  truth.  In  his  defence  before  the 
people,  he  declared  that  he  had  always  received  and 
honoured  the  same  gods  as  the  Athenians:  and  the 
last  order  he  gave  before  he  expired,  was  to  sacrifice 
in  his  name  a  cock  to  £l«culapins.  Behold,  then 
this  prince  of  the  philosopher*,  declared  by  the  Del- 
phic oracle  the  wisest  of  mankind,  who  notwithstand- 
ing his  internal  conviction  of  one  onlv  Divinitr,  diei 
in  the  bosom  of  idolatry,  and  professing  to  adore  all 
the  god*  of  the  Pagan  theology.  Socrates  u  the 
more  inexcusable  in  this,  since,  declaring  himself  a 
man  expressly  appointed  by  Heaven  to  bear  witness 
to  the  truth,  he  fails  in  the  most  essential  d-itv  of  the 
glorious  commission  he  ascribes  to  himself.  F'or  if 
there  be  any  truth  in  religion  that  we  ought  most 
particularly  to  avow,  it  is  that  which  regards  the 


•  Rom.  eh.  i.  »er.  17—3-2. 

•  QuM  omnin  (ait  Seneca)  rapienr  servahit  tanqoain  kgi 
bu«  jus.«a.  nnn  tanquam  Jii*  grata — Omncm  isiam  ipnoliilcia 
deoruni  turlmm,  quam  lon»o  m\o  lon;a  supers) it iocnnfMrit, 
sir.  ini|uil,  ari<ira)>imu>.  ut  mrmincrimus  rultum  rjux  mn?il 
•  d  miirfm.  ijunm   ad    r»-m.  pen inert—  Serf   i«i<\  qiii'm  |,hilo- 
•ophia  911.1*1  liberuni  (Vcerat.  tnmen.  qoia  illuiiris  senator 
erat,  cod  hat   quml   rrprebendebat.  ajfebal   i|U<>d   arrucbai, 

3u»ri  culpaliat  ailnrahat— «o  ilamnabiliu*.  qufi  ilia,  qur  men- 
arii,»r  asebat,  sir.  ajeret.  ut  eum  populu*  ypracitcr  agers 
eiistimarpt.  S.  Jlugust.  dt  eirit.  Dei.  1.  vi.  r.  10. 

•  Eorum  Miptentc*.  quo*  philosophot  vorant.  fcholai  ha 
bebant  diwentientet,  et  terapla  cummuniu.     Jd.  lib.  tit  vfr 


306 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


ttnity  of  the  Godhead,  and  the  vanity  of  idol  wor- 
•hip.  In  this  his  courage  would  have  been  well 
placed:  nor  would  it  have  been  any  great  difficulty 
to  Socrates,  determined  besides  as  he  was  to  die. 
But,  savs  St.  Auguslin,1  it  was  not  these  philoso- 
pher* who  were  designed  by  God  to  enlighten  the 
world,  nor  to  bring  men  over  from  the  impious 
worship  of  false  deities  to  the  holy  religion  of  the 
true  God, 

We  cannot  deny  Socrates  to  have  been  the  hero  of 
the  Pagon  world  in  regard  to  moral  virtues.  But  to 
judge  rightly  of  him,  let  us  draw  a  parallel  between 
this  supposed  hero  and  the  martyrs  of  Christianity, 
who  often  were  young  children  and  tender  virgins. 


<  Nun  fie  isli  nati  erant,  ut  populnrum  f uorum  opinionem 
md  verum  culium  veri  Dei  a  simulacrorum  superstitione 
atque  ah  liujun  mundi  vanitate  converterent.  S.  jjugust. 
iik.  de  ver.  rel.  c.  ii. 


and  yet  were  not  afraid  to  shed  the  last  drop  of  the 
blood,  to  defend  and  confirm  the  same  truths,  whi 
Socrates  knew,  without  daring  to  assert  them  in  pub 
lie:  I  mean  the  unity  of  God,  and  the  vanity  of  idols. 
Lei  us  also  compare  the  so  much  boasted"  death  of 
this  prince  of  philosophers,  with  that  of  our  holy 
bishops,  who  have  done  the  Christian  religion  so 
much  honour,  by  the  sublimity  of  their  gpniu*,  the 
extent  of  their  knowledge,  and  the  beauty  and  excel- 
lence of  their  writings;  a  saint  Cyprian,  a  <aint  Au- 
guslin, and  so  many  others,  who  were  all  sten  to  die 
in  ihe  bosom  of  humility,  fully  convinced  of  their 
unworthiness  and  nothingness,  penetrated  with  a 
lively  fear  of  the  judgments  of  God,  and  expec'inj 
their  salvation  from  his  sole  goodness  and  condescen- 
ding mercy.  Philosophy  inspires  no  such  sentim-  ,ts; 
they  could  proceed  only  from  the  grace  of  the  Me- 
diator, which  Socrates  was  not  thought  worths  to 
know. 


THE   ANCIENT 


HISTORY  OF  THE  PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


BOOK  X. 


MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  GREEKS. 

THE  most  essential  part  of  history,  and  that  which 
it  concerns  the  reader  most  to  know,  is  that  which 
explains  the  character  and  manners  as  well  of  the 
people  in  general,  as  of  the  great  persons  in  particu- 
lar, of  whom  it  treats;  and  this  may  be  said  to  be  in 
some  sort  the  soul  of  history,  while  the  facts  are  only 
the  body. — I  have  endeavoured,  as  occasion  offered, 
to  paint  in  their  true  colours  the  most  illustrious 
personages  of  Greece;  it  remains  for  me  to  show  the 
genius  and  character  of  the  people  themselves.  I 
shall  confine  myself  to  those  of  Lacedwinon  and 
Athens,  who  always  held  the  first  rank  amongst  the 
Greeks,  and  shall  reduce  what  I  have  to  say  upon 
this  subject  to  three  heads;  their  political  govern- 
ment, war,  and  religion. 

Sigonius,  Meursius,  Potter,  and  several  others,  who 
have  written  upon  Grecian  antiquities,  supply  me 
with  great  lights,  and  are  of  much  use  to  me  in  the 
subject  which  it  remains  for. me  to  treat. 


CHAPTER  I. 


OF  POLITICAL  GOVERNMENT. 

THERE  arc  three  principal  forms  of  government : — 
Monarchy,  in  which  a  «ingle  person  reigns;  Aristo- 
cracy in  which  the  elders  and  wisest  governs;  and 
Der.iorracy  under  which  the  supreme  authority  is 
lodged  in  the  hands  of  the  people.  The  most  cele- 
brated writers  of  antiquity,  as  Plato,  Aristotle,  Poly, 
bius.  and  f'lutarch.  give  the  preference  to  the  first 
kind  as  including  the  most  advantages  with  the  few- 
est ir.c  inveniences.  Hut  nil  agree — and  it  cannot  be 
too  often  inculcatid — that  the  end  of  all  government, 
and  the  duty  of  every  one  invested  with  it,  be  the 
form  «hat  it  mnv,  I*  to  use  his  utmost  endeavours  to 
render  those  under  his  command  happy  and  just,  by 


obtaining  for  them  on  the  one  side  safetv  and  tran- 
quillity,  wi;h  the  advantages  and  conveniences  of  life; 
and  on  the  other,  all  the  means  and  helps  that  may 
contribute  to  making  them  virtuous.  As  the  pilot  I 
aim,  says  Cicero,1  is  to  steer  his  vessel  happily  into 
port,  the  physician's  to  preserve  or  restore  health, 
the  general's  of  an  army  to  obtain  victory;  so  a 
prince,  and  every  man  who  governs  others,  ought  to 
make  the  utility  of  the  governed  his  ultimate  aim; 
and  to  remember,  that  the  supreme  law  of  every  just 
government  is  the  good  of  the  public,  Solus  populi 
snpremn  lex  esto*  He  adds,  that  the  greatest  and 
most  noble  function  in  the  world,  is  to  be  the  author 
of  the  happiness  of  a  nation. 

Plato  in  a  hundred  places  esteems  as  nothing  the 
most  shining  qualities  and  actions  of  those  who  go- 
vern, if  they  do  not  tend  to  promote  the  two  great 
ends  I  have  mentioned,  the  virtue  and  happiness  of 
the  people;  and  he  refutes  at  large,  in  the  first  book 
of  his  Republic,3  one  Thrasymachu«,  who  advanced, 
that  subjects  were  born  for  the  prince,  and  not  the 
prince  for  his  subjects;  and  that  whatever  promoted 
the  interests  of  the  prince  or  commonwealth,  ought 
to  be  deemed  just  and  lawful. 

In  the  distinctions  which  have  been  made  upon  the 
several  forms  of  government,  it  has  been  agreed,  that 
that  would  be  the  most  perfect  which  should  unite  in 
itself,  by  a  happy  mixture  of  institutions,  all  the  ad- 
vantages, and  exclude  all  the  inconveniences  of  the 
rest;  and  almost  all  the  ancients  have  believed,  that 
the  Lacedaemonian  government  came  nearest  to  this 
idea  of  perfection.* 


>  Tenes-ne  ijitur.  moderatorem  ilium  reip.  quo  referra 
vplimim  omnia? — Ut  pnhernatiiri  ciirsus  gecumlu*.  mi'dicf 
88 1  UK.  imperatnri  victoria,  sic  huic  modcraiuri  re  i  p.  heat* 
riviutii  vita  prnporfita  cst.  et  opibus  firmu,  ropiis  lucuples, 
L'lnria  umpla,  virtute  lioncsta  nit.  Hujus  enim  opens  maxim' 
inter  homines  atquc  optimi  ilium  case  perfectorum  volo.  M 
Jittie.  I.  viii.  Epist.  10. 

•  Cie.  He  leg.  I.  iii  n.  8.  •  Page  338—341 

*  Polyb.  1.  vi.  p.  458,  459. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS 


397 


ARTICLE  I. 
or  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  SPARTA. 

FROM  the  time  that  the  Heraclidw  had  re-entered 
Peloponnesus,  Sparta  was  governed  by  two  kings, 
who  were  always  of  the  same  two  families,  descend- 
ed from  Hercules  by  two  different  branches;  as  I 
have  observed  elsewhere.  Whether  from  pride  and 
the  abuse  of  despotic  power  on  the  side  of  the  kings, 
or  the  desire  of  independence  and  an  immoderate 
love  of  liberty  on  that  of  the  people,  Sparta,  in  its 
beginnings,  wa«  always  involved  in  commotions  and 
revolts;  which  would  infallibly  have  occasioned  its 
ruin,  as  had  happened  at  Argos  and  Messrne,  two 
neighbouring  cities  equally  powerful  with  itself,  if 
the  wise  foresight  of  Lycurgus  had  not  prevented  the 
fatal  consequences  by  the  reformation  which  he  made 
in  the  state.  I  have  related  it  at  large  in  the  life  of 
that  legislator,  and  shall  only  touch  here  upon  what 
regards  the  government. 

SECTION  I.— ABRIDGED  IDEA  OF  THE  SPARTAN 
GOVERNMENT.  ENTIRE  SUBMISSION  TO  THE  LAWS 
WAS  IN  A  MANNER  THE  SOUL  OF  IT. 

LYCURGUS  restored  order  and  peace  in  Sparta  by 
tne  establishment  of  the  senate.  It  consisted  of 
twenty-eight  senators,  and  the  two  kings  presided  in 
it.  This  august  assembly,  formed  out  of  the  wisest 
and  most  experienced  men  in  the  nation,  served  as  a 
counterpoise  to  the  two  other  authorities,  that  of  the 
kings,  and  that  of  the  people;  and  whenever  the  one 
attempted  to  overbear  the  other,  the  senate  inter- 
posed, by  joining  the  weakest,  and  thereby  held  the 
balance  even  between  both.  At  length,  to  prevent 
this  bod}'  itself  from  abusing  its  power,  which  was 
very  Lrreat,  a  kind  of  curb  was  annexed  to  it,  by  the 
nomination  of  five  Ephori,  who  were  elected  out  of 
the  people,  whose  office  lasted  only  one  year,  but 
who  had  authority,  not  only  over  the  senators,  but 
the  kiiiKs  themselves. 

The  power  of  the  kings  was  extremely  limited, 
especially  in  the  citv,  and  in  time  of  peace.  In  war 
they  had  the  command  of  the  fleets  and  armies,  and 
at  that  time  greater  authority.  However,'  they  had 
even  then  a  kind  of  inspectors  and  commissioners  as- 
signed them,  who  served  as  a  necessary  council,  and 
were  generally  chosen  for  that  office  from  among 
those  citizens  who  were  out  of  favour  with  them,  in 
order  that  there  should  be  no  connivance  on  their 
tide,  and  the  republic  be  the  better  served.  There 
was  almost  continually  some  secret  misunderstanding 
between  the  two  king*;  whether  it  proceeded  from  a 
natural  jealousy  between  the  two  branches,  or  was 
the  effect  of  the  Spartan  policy,  to  which  their  too 
great  union  might  have  given  umbrage. 

The  Ephori  had  a  greater  authority  at  Sparta  than 
the  tribunes  of  the  people  at  Rome.  They 'presided 
in  the  election  of  the  magistrates,  and  called  them  to 
an  account  for  their  administration.  Their  power  ex- 
tended even  to  the  persons  of  their  kings,  and  of  the 
princes  of  the  blood  royal,  whom  they  had  a  right  to 
imprison,  which  right  they  actually  used  in  the  case 
of  Pausanias.  When  they  sat  upon  their  seats  in  the 
tribunal,  they  did  not  rise  up  when  the  kin)t»  entered, 
which  was  a  mark  of  respect  paid  them  by  all  the 
other  magistrates,  and  this  seems  to  imply  a  kind  of 
superiority  in  the  Ephori  in  consequence  of  their  re- 
presenting the  people;  and  it  is  observed  of  Agesi- 
laus,  that  when  he  was  seated  upon  his  throne  to 
dispense  justice.*  and  the  Ephori  came  in,  he  never 
failed  to  rise  up  to  do  them  honour.  It  is  very  pro- 
bable, that  before  him  it  was  not  usual  for  the  kings 
to  behave  in  that  manner,  since  Plutarch  relates  this 
behaviour  of  Agesilaus  as  peculiar  to  him. 

All  public  business  was  proposed  and  examined  in 
the  senate,  and  there  it  was  that  resolutions  were 
passed.  But  the  decrees  of  the  senate  were  not  of 
force  unless  ratified  by  the  people. 

There  must  have  been  exceeding  wisdom  in  the 
laws  established  by  Lycurgus  for  the  government  of 


t  Ami  d*  rep  L  ii  p. 331.        •  Plot,  in  Agnil.  p.  597. 


Sparta,  because,  as  long  as  they  were  exactly  ol» 
served,  no  commotions  or  seditions  of  the  people 
were  ever  known  in  the  city,  no  change  in  the  limn 
of  government  ever  proposed,  no  private  person 
usurped  authority  by  violence,  or  made  himself  ty- 
rant; the  people  never  thought  of  depriving  the  two 
families,  in  which  it  had  always  bten,  of  tlie  sove- 
reignty, nor  did  any  of  the  kings  ever  attempt  to 
assume  more  power  than  the  laws  permitted.  This 
reflection,'  which  both  Xenophon  and  Pol}  bius  make, 
shows  the  idea  they  had  of  the  wisdom  of  Lycurgus 
in  political  matters, and  the  opinion  we  ought  to  have 
of  it.  In  fact,  no  other  city  of  Greece  had  this  ad- 
vantage, and  all  of  them  experienced  many  changes 
and  vicissitudes,  for  want  of  similar  laws  to  perpetuate 
their  form  of  government. 

The  reason  of  this  constancy  and  stability  of  the 
Lacedaemonians  in  their  government  and  conduct  is, 
that  in  Sparta  the  laws  governed  absolutely,  and  with 
sovereign  authority  ;  whereas  the  greatest  part  of  the 
other  Grecian  cities,  abandoned  to  the  caprice  of 
private  individuals,  to  despotic  power,  to  an  arbitrary 
and  irregular  sway,  experienced  the  truth  of  I  lato'i 
saying:  that  the  city  is  miserable,*  where  the  magis- 
trates command  the  laws,  and  not  the  laws  the  ma- 
gistrates. 

The  example  of  Argos  and  Messene.  which  I  hare 
already  pointed  out,  would  alone  suffice  to  show  how 
just  and  true  that  reflection  is.  Afttr  their  return  from 
the  Trojan  war,5  the  Greeks,  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  Dorians,  established  themselves  in  three 
cities  of  Peloponnesus,  Lacedaemon.  Argos,  and 
Messene:  and  swore  mutually  to  assist  each  other. 
These  three  cities,  governed  alike  by  monarvhial 
power,  had  the  same  advantages;  except  that  the 
two  latter  were  far  superior  to  the  other  in  the  fer- 
tility of  the  territory  where  they  were  situated.  Ar- 
gos and  Messene,  nowever,  did  not  long  preserve 
their  superiority.  The  haughtiness  of  the  kings,  and 
the  disobedience  of  the  people,  occasioned  their  fall 
from  the  flourishing  condition  in  which  they  had 
been  at  first;  and  their  example  proved,  sa\s  Plu- 
tarch, after  Plato,  that  it  was  the  peculiar  favour  of 
the  gods  which  gave  the  Spartans  such  a  man  as  Ly- 
curgus, capable  of  prescribing  so  wise  and  reasonable 
a  plan  of  government. 

To  support  it  without  change,  particular  care  wai 
taken  to  educate  the  youth  according  to  the  laws  and 
manners  of  the  country ;  in  order  that,  by  being  early 
engrafted  into  them,  and  confirmed  by  long  habitude, 
they  might  become,  as  it  were,  a  second  nature.  The 
hard  and  sober  manner  in  which  they  were  brought 
up,  inspired  them  during  the  Ifest  of  their  lives  with  a 
natural  taste  for  frugality  and  temperance  that  d'lMin- 
guished  them  from  all  other  nations,  and  wonderfully 
adapted  them  to  support  the  fatigues  of  war.  Plato 
observes.6  that  this  salutary  custom  had  banished  from 
Sparta,  and  all  the  territory  dependent  upon  it,  drunk- 
enness, debauchery,  and  all  the  disorders  that  ensue 
from  them;  insomuch  that  it  was  a  crime  punishable 
by  law  to  drink  wine  to  excess  even  in  the  Bacchana- 
lia, which  every  where  else  were  clays  of  license,  and 
on  which  whole  cities  gave  themselves  up  to  the  lad 
excesses. 

They  also  accustomed  the  children  from  their  ear- 
lies!  infancy  to  an  entire  submission  to  the  laws,  ma- 
gistrates, and  all  in  authority ;  and  their  education,* 
properly  "peaking,  was  no  more  than  an  apprentice- 
!>hip  of  obedience.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  Agesi- 
laus advised  Xenophon  to  send  his  children  to  Sparta, 
as  to  an  excellent  school,  where  they  might  learn  the 
greatest  and  most  noble  of  all  sciences.*  to  obry  and 
to  command,  for  the  one  naturally  leads  on  to  th« 
other.  It  was  not  only  the  mean,  the  poor,  and  the 
ordinary  citizens,  who  were  subjected  in  this  mannei 


•  Xcnophon.  in  Age«il.  p.  651.     Polyb.  I.  »i.  p.  459 
«  Plat.  I.  i».  de  leg.  p.  715. 

•  Plat.  I.  iii.  de  leg.  p.  683—685.    Plut.  in  Lyrurg.  p.  43. 

•  Plat.  I.  i.  de  lee.  p.  637. 


put 


Lyeurf.  p.  58. 


i,x«".     PUt  fat  Aftsil.  p.  COG. 


398 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


to  the  laws,  out  the  rich,  the  powerful,  the  magis- 
trates, and  even  the  kings;  and  they  distinguished 
themselves  from  the  others  only  by  a  more  exact 
obedience;  convinced  that  such  behaviour  was  the 
surest  means  to  their  being  obeyed  and  respected 
themselves  by  their  interiors. 

Hence  came  the  so  much  celebrated  answers  of 
Demaratus.1  Xerxes  could  not  comprehend  how  tbt 
Lacedaemonians,  who  had  no  master  to  control  then, 
should  be  capable  of  confronting  dangers  and  death. 
"They  are  free  and  independent  of  all  men,"  replied 
Demaratus,  "but  the  law  is  above  them  and  com- 
mands them;  and  that  law  ordains  that  they  must 
conquer  or  die."  Upon  another  occasion,8  when 
somebody  expressed  their  surprise,  that  being  king 
he  should  suffer  himself  to  be  banished  :  "  It  is,1'  says 
he,  "  because  at  Sparta  the  laws  are  stronger  than 
the  kings." 

This  appears  evidently  in  the  ready  obedience  of 
Agesihtus  to  the  orders  of  the  F.phori,3  when  recalled 
by  them  to  the  support  of  his  country;  a  delicate 
occasion  for  a  king  and  a  conqueror;  but  to  him  it 
seemed  more  glorious  to  obey  his  country  and  the 
laws,*  than  to  command  numerous  armies,  or  even  to 
conquer  Asia. 

SECTION    II. — LOVE  OF  POVERTV  INSTITUTED  AT 
SPARTA. 

To  this  entire  submission  to  the  laws  of  the  state, 
Lycurgus  added  another  principle  of  government  no 
less  admirable,  which  was  to  remove  from  Sparta  all 
luxury,  profusion,  and  magnificence;  to  bring  riches 
absolutely  into  discredit,  to  make  poverty  honourable, 
and  at  the  same  time  necessary,  by  substituting  a  spe- 
cies of  iron  money  in  the  place  of  gold  and  silver 
coin,  which  til!  then  had  been  current.  I  have  ex- 
plained elsewhere  the  measures  that  he  used  to  make 
so  difficult  an  undertaking  succeed,  and  shall  con- 
fine myself  here  to  examining  what  judgment  should 
be  passed  on  it,  as  it  affects  a  government. 

Was  the  poverty  to  which  Lvcurgus  reduced  Spar- 
ta, and  which  seemed  to  prohibit  to  that  state  all  con- 
quest, and  to  deprive  it  of  all  means  of  augmenting 
its  force  and  grandeur,  well  adapted  to  render  it  pow- 
erful and  flourishing?  Does  such  a  constitution  of 
government,  which  till  then  had  no  example,  nor  has 
since  been  imitated  by  any  state,  evince  a  great  fund 
of  prudence  and  policy  in  a  legislator?  And  was  not 
the  modification  conceived  afterwards  under  Lysand- 
e.r,  of  continuing  private  persons  in  their  poverty, 
and  restoring  to  the  public  the  use  of  gold  and  silver 
coin,  a  wise  amendment  of  what  was  too  strained  and 
excessive  in  that  law  of  Lycurgus  of  which  we  are 
speaking?  • 

It  seems,  if  we  consult  only  the  common  views  of 
human  prudence,  that  it  is  just  to  reason  in  this  man- 
ner; but  the  event,  which  is  an  infallible  evidence  and 
arbiter  in  this  place,  obliges  me  to  be  of  a  quite  dif- 
ferent opinion.  Whilst  Sparta  remained  poor,  and 
persisted  in  the  contempt  of  gold  and  silver,  which 
Continued  for  several  ages,  she  was  still  powerful  and 
glorious;  and  the  commencement  of  her  decline  may 
be  dated  from  the  time  when  she  began  to  break 
through  the  severe  prohibition  of  Lycurgus  against 
the  use  of  gold  and  silver  money. 

The  education  which  he  instituted  for  the  young 
Lacedaemonians,  the  hard  and  sober  life  which  he 
recommended  with  so  much  care,  the  laborious  and 
violent  exercises  of  the  body  prescribed  by  him,  the 
abstraction  from  all  other  application  and  employ- 
ment, in  a  word,  all  his  laws  and  institutions  show, 
that  his  view  was  to  form  a  nation  of  soldiers,  solely- 
devoted  to  arms  and  military  functions.  I  do  not 
pretend  absolutely  to  justify  this  scheme,  which  had 
its  great  inconveniences;  and  I  have  expressed  my 
thoughts  of  it  elsewhere.  But,  admitting  this  to 
be  his  view,  we  must  confess  that  legislator  showed 


•  Herod.  .  vii.  c.  J45,  146. 

»  Plut.  in  Apoph.  Lawin.  p.  220. 

*  Hem.  in  A  genii,  p.  (<03,  604. 

4  Mulld   gloriofiitis  duxit,  si  initrt  w  *  patrin  parnimset, 
quiira  «i  bellu  suj»ci  asset  Aiium.  Con   At} .  in  Jigetil  c.  iv. 


great  wisdom  in  the  mentis  he  toot   to  carry  it  into 
execution. 

The  almost  inevitable  danger  ot  a  people  solely 
trained  up  for  war,  who  have  always  their  arms  in 
their  hands,  and  that  which  is  most  to  be  feared  is 
injustice,  violence,  ambition,  the  desire  of  increasing 
their  power,  of  taking  advantage  of  their  neigh- 
hours*  weakness,  of  oppressing  them  by  force,  of 
invading  their  lands"  under  false  pretexts,  which  the 
lust  of  dominion  never  fails  to  suggest,  and  of  exten 
ding  their  bounds  us  fur  as  possible;  all  vices  and 
extremes  which  are  horrid  in  private  persons,  and 
the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life,  but  which  men  have 
thought  fit  to  applaud  as  grandeur  and  glory  in  the 
persons  of  princes  and  conquerors. 

The  great  care  of  Lycurgus  was  to  defend  hit 
people  against  this  dangerous  temptation.  Without 
mentioning  the  other  means  he  made  use  of,  he  em- 
ployed two  which  could  not  fail  of  producing  their 
effect.  The  first  was  to  prohibit  all  navigation  and 
war  at  sea  to  his  citizens.6  The  situation  of  his  city, 
and  the  ftar  lest  commerce,  the  usual  source  of  lux- 
ury and  disorder,  should  corrupt  the  purity  of  the 
Spartan  manners,  might  have  a  share  in  this  prohi- 
bition. But  his  principal  motive  was  to  put  it  out 
of  his  citizens'  power  to  project  conquests,  which  a 
people  shut  up  within  the  narrow  bounds  of  a  pe- 
ninsula could  not  carry  very  far  without  being  mas- 
ters at  sea. 

The  second  means,  still  more  efficacious,  was  to 
forbid  all  use  of  gold  or  silver  money,  and  to  intro- 
duce a  species  of  iron  coin  in  its  stead,  which  wa*  o' 
great  weight  and  small  value,  and  could  only  be  cur 
rent  at  home.  How  with  such  money  could  foreign 
troops  be  raised  and  paid,  fleets  fitted  out,  and  nu- 
merous armies  kept  up  either  by  land  or  sea? 

So  that  the  design  of  Lycurgus,  in  rendering  his 
citizens  warlike,  and  putting  arms  into  their  hands, 
was  not,  as  Polybius  observes,6  and  Plutarch  after 
him,  to  make  them  illustrious  conquerors,  who  might 
carry  war  into  remote  regions,  and  subject  greut 
numbers  of  people.  His  sole  end  was,  that,  shut  up 
within  the  extent  of  the  lands  and  domain  left  them 
by  their  ancestors,  they  should  have  no  thoughts  but 
of  maintaining  themselves  in  peace,  and  defending 
themselves  successfully  against  such  of  their  neigh- 
bours as  should  have  the  rashness  to  invade  them; 
and  for  this  thev  had  occasion  for  neither  gold  nor 
silver,  as  they  found  in  their  own  country,  and  still 
more  in  their  sober  and  temperate  manner  of  life,  all 
that  was  sufficient  for  the  support  of  their  armies, 
when  they  did  not  quit  their  own  lands,  or  the  neigh* 
bouring  territories. 

Now,  savs  Polybius,  this  plan  once  admitted,  it 
must  be  allowed  that  nothing  could  be  more  wise 
nor  more  happily  conceived  than  the  institutions  o/ 
Lycurgus,  for  maintaining  a  people  in  the  possession 
of  their  liberty,  and  securing  to  them  the  enjoyment 
of  peace  and  tranquillity.  In  fact,  let  us  imagine  a 
little  republic,  like  that  of  Sparta,  of  which  all  the 
citizens  are  inured  to  labour,  accustomed  to  live  on 
little,  warlike,  courageous,  intrepid;  and  that  the 
fundamental  principle  of  this  small  republic  is  to 
do  no  wrong  to  any  one,  nor  to  disturb  its  neigh 
hour*,  nor  invade  their  lands  or  property;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  to  declare  in  favour  of  the  oppressed 
against  the  injustice  and  tiolenceof  oppressors;  is  it 
not  certain,  that  such  a  republic,  surrounded  by  n 
great  number  of  states  of  equal  extent,  would  be 
generally  respected  by  all  the  neighbouring  nations, 
would  become  the  supreme  arbiter  of  all  their  quar- 
rels, and  exercise  an  empire  over  them,  by  so  much 
the  more  glorious  and  lasting,  as  it  would  be  volun- 
tary, and  founded  solely  upon  the  opinion  whick 
those  neighbours  would  have  of  its  virtue,  justice 
and  valour? 

This  was  the  end  that  Lycurgus  proposed  to  him- 
self.7 Convinced  that  the  happiness  of  a  city,  lik» 
that  of  a  private  person,  depends  upon  virtue,  and 


*  'ATTH'IJ  ITC     J,    itv-reif    v«UT«lf    livm,     x«J 
Plut.  in  instil.  Lacen.  p.  239. 

•  Polyb.  1   ri.  p.  491.    Plut.  in  Lycurg.  p.  30. 
»  Plut.  p.  38. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


399 


apon  being  well  within  itself,  he  regulated  Sparta  tt 
as  that  it  might  always  suffice  to  its  own  happmesi 
and  act  upon  principles  of  wisdom  and  equity.  From 
thence  arose  that  universal  esteem  of  the  neighbour- 
ing people,  and  even  of  strangers,  who  asked  from 
the  Lacedaemonians  neither  money,  ships,  nor  troops, 
but  only  that  they  would  lend  them  a  Spartan  to  Com- 
mand their  armies;  and  when  th«y  bad  obtained  their 
request,  they  paid  him  entire  obedience  with  every 
kind  of  honour  and  respect.  In  this  manner  the  Sici- 
lians obeyed  Gy lippus, the  Chalcidians,  Rrasidas,  and 
•II  the  Greeks  of  Asia,  Lysander,  Callicratidas,  and 
Agesilaus;  regarding  the  city  of  Sparta  as  a  model 
for  all  others,  in  the  arts  of  living  and  governing 
well.1 

The  epocha  of  the  declension  of  Sparta  begins 
with  the  open  violation  of  Lycurgus's  laws.  I  do 
not  pretend  that  they  had  always  been  exactly  ob- 
served till  that  time,  which  was  far  from  the  case; 
but  the  spirit  and  genius  of  those  laws  had  almost 
always  prevailed  with  the  majority  of  the  persons 
who  governed.  As  soon  as  thf  ambition  of  reigning 
overall  Greece  had  inspired  them  with  the  design  of 
having  naval  armies  and  foreign  troops,  and  that  mo- 
ney was  necessarv  for  the  support  of  those  forces, 
Sparta,  forgetting  her  ancient  maxims,  saw  herself 
reduced  to  have  recourse  to  the  barbarians,  whom 
till  then  she  had  detested,  and  basely  to  make  her 
court  to  the  kings  of  Persia,  whom  she  had  formerly 
vanquished  with  so  much  glory;  and  that,  only  to 
draw  from  them  some  aids  of  money  and  troops 
against  their  own  brethren,  that  is  to  say,  against 
people  born  and  settled  in  Greece  like  themselves. 
Thus  had  they  the  imprudence  and  misfortune  to  re- 
call with  gold  and  silver  into  Sparta,  all  the  vices  and 
crimes  which  the  iron  money  had  banished;  and  to 
prepare  the  way  for  the  changes  which  ensued,  and 
were  the  cause  of  their  ruin.  And  this  infinitely  ex- 
alts the  wisdom  of  Lycurgus,  in  having  foreseen,  at 
such  a  distance,  what  might  strike  at  the  happiness 
of  his  citizens,  and  provided  salutary  remedies  against 
it  in  the  form  of  government  which  he  established  at 
Sparta.  We  must  not,  however,  attribute  the  whole 
honour  of  this  plan  to  him  alone.  Another  legisla- 
tor, who  had  preceded  him  several  ages,  has  a  right 
to  share  this  glory  with  him. 

SECTION    III. — LAWS   ESTABLISHED   BY  MINOS  I>" 
CRETE,  THE  MODEL  OF  THOSE  OF  SPARTA. 

ALL  the  world  knows,  that  Lycurgus  had  formed 
the  plan  of  most  of  his  laws  upon  the  model  of 
those  observed  in  the  island  of  Crete,  where  he  pas- 
led  a  considerable  time  for  the  better  studying  of 
them.  It  is  proper  I  should  give  some  idea  of  them 
here,  having  forgotten  to  do  it  in  the  place  where  it 
would  have  been  more  natural,  that  is,  when  I  spoke 
for  the  first  time  of  Lycurgus  and  his  institutions. 

Minos,  whom  fabulous  history 
A.M. 2720.  calls  the  son  of  Jupiter,  was  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  1284.  author  of  these  laws.  He  lived 
about  100  years  before  the  Trojan 
wtir.  He  was  a  powerful,  wise,  and  gentle  prince; 
md  still  more  estimable  for  his  moral  virtues  than 
his  military  abilities.  After  having  conquered  the 
uland  of  Crete,  and  several  others  in  its  neighbour- 
hood, he  applied  himself  to  strengthen  by  wise  laws 
Ihe  new  state,  of  which  he  had  possessed  himself 
by  the  force  of  arms.  The  end  which  he  proposed 
iii  the  establishment  of  these  lnws,f  was  to  render 
his  subjects  happy  bv  making  them  virtuous.  He 
banished  idleness  and  voluptuousness  from  his  es- 
tates, and  with  them  luxury  and  effeminate  pleasures, 
the  fruitful  sources  of  nil  vice.  Well  knowing  that 
libertv  is  justly  regarded  as  the  most  precious  and 
greatest  good,  and  that  it  cannot  subsist  without  a 
perfect  union  of  the  people,  he  endeavoured  to  es- 
tablish a  kind  of  equality  amongst  them;  which  is 
the  tie  and  basis  of  it,  and  well  calculated  to  remove 
all  envy,  jealousy,  hatred,  and  dissension.  He  did 


t  IT(t{  rv^rmrui  rljr  rC»  ^wmfrimrir  v6A.il>,  dm;  jrmt 
<    0«ov  ««'    f"'«V>«'»i| 
•  fltrmb.  I.  r.  p.  4iA 


not  undertake  to  make  any  new  dmsbns  of  lands 
nor  to  prohibit  the  use  of  gold  and  silver.  He  ap- 
plied himself  to  the  uniting  of  his  subjects  by  other 
ties,  which  seemed  to  him  neither  less  firm  nor  less 
reasonable. 

He  decreed,  that  the  children  should  be  all  brought 
up  and  educated  together,  by  troops  and  bands;  in 
order  that  they  might  learn  early  the  same  principles 
and  maxims.  Their  life  was  hard  and  sober.  They 
were  accustomed  to  be  satisfied  with  little,  to  suller 
heat  and  cold,  to  walk  over  steep  and  rugged  places, 
to  skirmish  with  each  other  in  small  parties,  to  tulier 
courageously  the  blows  they  received,  and  to  exer- 
cise themselves  in  a  kind  of  dance  in  which  they  car- 
ried arms  in  their  hands,  and  which  wa«  afterwards 
called  the  Pyrrhic;  in  order,  says  Strabo,  that,  even 
to  their  very  diversions,  every  thing  might  breathe, 
and  form  them  for  war.  They  were  also  made  to 
learn  certain  airs  of  music,  but  of  a  manly,  martial 
kind. 

They  were  not  taught  either  to  ride,  or  to  wear 
heavy  armour;3  but  in  return,  they  were  made  to 
excel  in  drawing  the  bow,  which  was  their  most  usu- 
al exercise.  The  reason  of  this  was  natural.  CreU 
is  not  a  flat  even  country,  nor  fit  for  breeding  hor 
ses,  as  is  that  of  the  Thessalians,  who  were  consid- 
ered the  best  cavalry  in  Greece;  but  a  rough,  bro- 
ken country,  full  of  hills  and  highlands,  where  heavy- 
armed  troops  could  not  exercise  themselves  in  th« 
horse-race.  But  as  archers  and  light-armed  sol- 
diers, fit  to  execute  the  devices  and  stratagems  of 
war,  the  Cretans  pretended  to  hold  the  foremost  rank. 

Minos  thought  proper  to  establish  in  Crete  a  com- 
munity of  tables  and  meals.  Besides  several  other 
great  advantages  which  he  found  in  this  institution, 
as  the  introducing  a  kind  of  equality  in  his  domin- 
ions, the  rich  and  poor  having  the  same  diet,  the 
accustoming  his  subjects  to  a  frugal  and  sober  life, 
the  cementing  friendship  and  unity  between  them 
by  the  usual  gaiety  and  familiarity  of  the  table,  he 
had  also  in  view  the  custom  of  war,  in  which  the 
soldiers  are  obliged  to  eat  together.  It  was  the 
public  that  supplied  the  expenses  of  these  tables.* 
Out  of  the  revenues  of  the  state,  a  part  was  ap- 
plied to  the  uses  of  religion  and  the  salaries  of  the 
magistrates,  and  the  rest  allotted  for  the  public 
meals.  So  that  the  women,  children,  and  men  of 
all  ages,  were  fed  at  the  cost,  and  in  the  name  of  the 
republic.  In  this  respect,  Aristotle  gives  the  pre- 
ference to  the  meals  of  Crete  before  those  of  Spar- 
ta, wherein  private  persons  were  obliged  to  furnish 
their  proportion,  and  without  it  were  not  admitted 
into  the  assemblies;  which  was  to  exclude  the  poor. 

After  eating,  the  old  men  discoursed  upon  the  a£ 
fairs  of  the  state.6  The  conversation  turned  gener- 
ally upon  the  history  of  the  country,  upon  the  ac- 
tions and  virtues  of  great  men,  who  had  distinguish- 
ed themselves  either  by  their  valour  in  war,  or  their 
wisdom  in  the  art  of  government;  and  the  youth, 
who  .were  present  at  these  entertainments,  were  ex- 
horted to  propose  those  great  persons  to  themselves  as 
their  models  for  the  forming  of  their  manners,  and 
the  regulation  of  their  conduct. 

Minos,*  as  well  as  Lycurgus,  is  reproached  with 
having  no  other  view  in  his  laws  than  war;  which  is 
a  very  great  fault  in  a  legislator.  It  is  true,  this  ap- 
pears to  have  been  his  principal  object,  because  he 
was  convinced  that  the  repose,  liberty,  and  riches 
of  his  subjects  were  under  the  protection,  and  in  a 
manner  under  the  guard  of  arms  and  military  know- 
ledge; the  conquered  being  deprived  of  all  those 
advantages  by  the  victor.  But  he  was  desirioui 
that  war  should  be  made  only  for  the  sake  of  peace; 
and  his.  laws  are  far  from  being  confined  to  that  sole 
object. 

Amongst  the  Cretans,  the  cultivation  of  the  mind 
was  not  entirely  neglected,  and  care  was  taken  to 
give  the  youth  some  tincture  of  learning.  The  workt 
of  Homer,1'  of  much  latter  date  than  the  laws  of  Mi- 


*  Plat  de  lee.  I.  i.  p.  093. 

•  Aihen.  I.  i».  p.  143. 
'  Ibid.  p.  680. 


«  Ariit.  de  rep,  I  ii.  «••  10, 
•  Plat,  de  leg. )  ii  p  t#G. 


400 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


nos,  were  not  unknown  amongst  them,  though  they 
let  small  value  upon,  and  made  little  use  of,  foreign 
poets.1  They  were  very  curious  in  such  knowledge 
as  is  proper  to  form  the  manners;  and  what  is  no 
•mall  praise,2  they  piqued  themselves  upon  thinking 
much  and  speaking  little,  The  poet  Epimenides,9 
who  made  a  voyage  to  Athens  in  the  time  of  Solon, 
mnd  was  in  great  estimation  there,  was  of  Crete,  and 
i»  by  some  placed  in  the  number  of  the  seven  sages. 
O'ne  of  Minos's  institutions,  which  Plato  *  ad- 
mires the  most,  was  to  inspire  early  into  the  youth  a 
high  respect  for  the  maxims,  customs,  and  laws  of 
the  state,  and  not  to  sutler  them  to  dispute  or  call  in 
question  the  wisdom  of  their  institutions;  since  they 
were  to  consider  them  not  as  prescribed  and  imposed 
by  man,  but  as  emanations  of  the  divinity  himself. 


Accordingly  he  had  industriously  apprised  the  peo- 
ple, that  Jup.iter  himself  had  dictated  them  to  him. 
He  paid  the  same  attention  in  regard  to  the  magis- 


trates and  aged  persons,  towards  whom  he  recommen- 
ded honour  should  be  particularly  shown;  and  in 
order  that  nothing  might  violate  the  respect  due  to 
them,  he  ordained,  that  if  any  defects  were  obser- 
ved in  them,  they  should  never  be  mentioned  in  the 
presence  of  the  youth:  a  wise  precaution,  and  one 
which  would  be  of  great  utility  in  the  ordinary  prac- 
tice of  life! 

The  government  of  Crete  was  at  first  monarchial, 
of  which  Minos  has  left  a  perfect  model  to  all  ages. 
According  to  him,  as  a  great  and  most  excellent  man 
observes,5  the  king  has  supreme  power  over  the  peo- 
ple, but  the  laws  supreme  power  over  him.  He  has 
an  absolute  power  to  do  good,  and  his  hands  are  tied 
up  from  doing  evil.  The  laws  intrust  the  people  in 
his  hands  as  the  most  sacred  of  deposits,  upon  condi- 
ion  that  he  shall  be  the  father  of  his  subjects.  The 
ame  laws  require,  that  a  single  man  by  his  wisdom 
and  moderation  shall  constitute  the  felicity  of  an 
infinite  number  of  subjects;  not  that  the  subjects,  by 
their  misery  and  abject  slavery,  shall  be  subservient 
to  the  gratifications  of  the  pride  and  low  passions  of 
a  single  man.  According  to  him,  the  king  ought  tc 
be  abroad  the  defender  of  his  country  at  the  head  of 
armies,  and  at  home  the  judge  of  his  people  to  render 
them  good,  vise,  and  happy.  It  is  not  for  himself  that 
the  gods  have  made  him  king;  he  is  only  so  for  the 
service  of  his  people.  He  owes  to  them  his  whole 
time,  care,  and  affection;  and  is  worthy  of  the  throne, 
only  as  far  as  he  forgets  himself,  and  devotes  himself 
to  the  public  good.  Such  is  the  idea  Minos  had  of 
the  sovereignty,8  of  which  he  was  a  living  image  in 
his  own  person,  and  which  Hoiod  has  perfectly  ex- 
pressed in  two  words,  by  calling  that  prince,  the  most 
royal  of  mortal  kings,  3»o-i>.iiT«Te»  $»*•>•••  £>n\qav  : 
that  is  to  say,  that  he  possessed  in  a  supreme  degree 
all  royal  virtues,  and  was  a  king  in  all  things. 

It  appears,7  that  the  authority  of  king  was  of  no 
long  duration,  and  that  it  gave  place  to  a  republican 
government,  as  Minos  had  intended.  The  senate, 
composed  of  thirty  senators,  formed  the  public  coun- 
cil. In  that  assembly  the  public  affairs  were  examined, 
and  resolutions  taken;  but  they  were  of  no  force  till 
the  people  had  given  them  their  approbation,  and 
confirmed  them  by  their  suffrages.  The  magistrate!*, 
to  the  number  of  ten,  established  for  maintaining 
rood  order  in  the  state,  and  therefore  called  Cotmif 
field  the  two  other  bodies  of  the  state  in  check,  and 
preserved  the  balance  between  them.  In  time  of  war 
the  same  persons  commanded  the  army.  They  were 
=hosen  by  lot,  but  only  out  of  certain  families.  Their 
office  wa§  for  life,  and  they  were  not  accountable  to 
any  for  their  administration.  Out  of  this  company  the 
senator*  were  elected. 

The  Cretans  made  the  slaves  and  mercenaries  cul- 
tivate their  lands,  who  were  obliged  to  pay  them  a 
certain  annual  sum.  They  were  called  Perittci, 
probably  from  their  b*in«;  drawn  from  neighb  .uring 

«  Plut.  in  Solon.  p.  84. 


»  Plat,  dc  Icp.  I   i.  p.  641.  •  Ibid.  p.  634. 

»  Monsieur  de  Fenelon,  archbishop  of  Cambray. 
•  Plat,  in  Min.  p.  320. 
A:»i.  de  Rep.  I.  ii.  c.  in  •  £••>•;,  ordo. 


nations,  whom  Minos  had  subjected.  As  they  inha- 
bited an  i-lam!,  and  consequently  a  country  separate 
'from  all  others,  the  Cretans  had  not  so  much  to  lear 
from  these  vassals  as  the  Lacedemonians  from  the 
Helots,  who  often  joined  the  neighbouring  people 
against  them.  A  custom  anciently  established  iu 
Crete,9  from  whence  it  was  adopted  by  the  Romans, 
gives  us  reason  to  believe  that  the  vassals  who  tilled 
the  lands  were  treated  with  great  mildness  and  hu- 
manity. In  the  feasts  of  Mercury,  the  masters  waited 
on  their  slaves  at  table,  and  did  them  the  game  otfices 
as  they  received  from  them  the  rest  of  the  year; — 
precious  remnants  and  traces  of  the  primitive  world, 
in  which  all  men  were  equal,  that  seemed  to  inform 
the  masters  that  their  servants  were  of  the  same  con- 
dition with  themselves,  and  that  to  treat  tin  in  with 
cruelty  and  pride  was  to  renounce  humanity. 

As  a  prince  cannot  do  every  thing  alone,10  and  is 
obliged  to  associate  co-operators  with  himself,  for 
whose  conduct  he  is  accountable,  Minos  charged  his 
brother  Rhadamanthus  with  a  share  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice  in  the  capital  citv,  which  is  the  most 
essential  and  indispensable  function  ol  sovereignty. 
He  knew  his  probity,  disinterestedness,  ability,  and 
constancy,  and  had  taken  pains  to  form  him  fur  so 
important  an  office.  Another  minister  had  the.  care 
of  the  rest  of  the  cities  through  which  he  made  a  cir- 
cuit three  times  a  year,  to  examine  whether  the  laws 
established  by  the  prince  were  duly  observed,  and  the 
inferior  magistrates  and  officers  religiously  acquitted 
themselves  of  their  duty. 

Crete,  under  so  wise  a  government,  changed  its 
aspect  entirely,  and  seemed  to  have  become  the  abode 
of  virtue,  probity,  and  justice,  as  we  may  judge  from 
what  fabulous  history  tells  us  oJ  the  honour  Jupiter 
did  these  two  brothers,  in  making  them  the  judges  of 
the  infernal  regions;  for  every  body  knows  that  t;ibl* 
is  founded  upon  real  historv,  though  disguised  under 
agreeable  emblems  and  allegories,  adapted  to  recom- 
mend truth  by  the  ornaments  of  fancy. 

It  was,  according  to  fabulous  tradition,"  a  law  es- 
tablished from  the  beginning  of  time,  that  mm  on 
|  departing  this  life  should  be  judged,  in  order  to  theii 
receiving  the  reward  or  punishment  due  to  their  good 
or  evil  actions.  In  the  reign  of  Saturn,  and  in  the 
first  years  of  that  of  Jupiter,  this  judgment  was  pro- 
nounced at  the  instant  preceding  death, which  lift 
room  for  every  flagrant  injustice.  Princes,  who  had 
been  cruel  and  tyrannical,  appearing  before  their 
judges  in  all  the  pomp  and  splendour  of  their  power, 
and  producing  witnesses  to  depose  in  their  favour 
because,  as  they  were  still  alive,  they  dreaded  their 
anger;  the  judges,  dazzled  with  this  vain  show,  and 
deceived  by  such  false  evidence,  declared  these  prin 
ces  innocent,  and  dismissed  them  with  permission  to 
enter  into  the  happy  abodes  of  the  just.  The  sam* 
may  be  said  in  regard  to  the  rich;  but  for  the  poor 
and  helpless,  calumny  and  malice  pursued  them  evec 
to  this  last  tribunal,  and  found  means  to  have  them 
doomed  fc~  •F'-T  as  criminals. 

Fabulous  rystory  adds,  th*.,  upon  reiterated  com- 
plaints and  warm  remonstrances  marie  to  Jupiter  up. in 
this  account,  he  changed  the  form  of  these  trials.  The 
time  for  them  was  fixed  for  the  very  moment  ?("•"• 
death.  Rhadamanthus  and  .Eacus,  both  sor.s  01  ..'c*». 
were  appointed  judges  ;  the  first  for  the  A.-iatict, 
the  other  for  the  Europeans;  and  Minos  over  them 
to  decide  supremely  in  cases  of  doubt  and  olwruritv. 
Their  tribunal  is  situated  in  a  place  called  The  Field 
of  Truth,  because  neither  falsehood  nor  calumnv  can 
approach  it.  The  greatest  priive  must  appear  there, 
as  soon  as  he  has  resigned  his  last  breath,  deprived 
of  all  his  grandeur,  reduced  to  his  naked  self,  without 
defence  or  protection, silent  and  trembling  forhi.«  own 
doom,  after  having  made  the  whole  world  tremble  tot 
theirs.  If  he  be  found  guilty  of  crimes  which  are  o/ 
a  nature  to  be  expiated,  he  \i confined  in  Tai  inru»  frj 
a  certain  time  only,  »nd  »ith  assurances  of  b»  ing 
released  as  soon  as  he  shall  be  sufficiently  purified 
But  if  his  crimes  are  unpardonable,  such  as  injustice 


•  Athcn.  1.  X!T.  p.  639.  «•  Plat,  in  Min   p.  "10 

»  Plat,  in  Gurj.  p.  533—526.    ID  Atiocb   p.  371. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS, 


401 


perjury,  ana  the  oppression  of  his  people,  he  is  cast 
into  the  same  Tartarus,  there  to  sutler  eternal  mise- 
ries. The  just,  on  the  contrary,  of  whatsoever  con- 
dition they  are,  are  conducted  into  the  blest  abodes 
of  peace  and  joy,  to  partake  of  a  felicity  which 
(hall  have  no  end. 

Who  does  not  see  that  the  poets,  under  the  cover 
of  these  ticiioiis,  ingenious  indeed,  hut  little  to  the 
honour  of  the  gods,  intended  to  give  us  the  model  of 
an  accomplished  prince,  whose  first  care  is  to  render 
justice  to  his  people,  and  to  depict  the  extraordinary 
happiness  Crete  enjoyed  under  the  wise  government 
of  JVlinos?  This  happiness  did  no?  expire  with  him. 
The  laws  he  established  subsisted  in  all  their  vigour 
even  in  Plato's  time,1  that  is  to  say,  more  than  900 
years  after;1  and  they  were  considered  as  the  effect 
of  his  long  conversations  for  many  years  with  Jupi- 
ter,3 who  had  condescended  to  become  his  teacher, 
to  enter  into  a  familiarity  with  him  as  with  a  friend.* 
and  to  form  him  in  the  »reat  art  of  reigning  with  a 
secret  complacency,  as  a  favourite  disciple  and  a  ten- 
derlv  beloved  son.  It  is  in  this  manner  Plato  explains 
these  words  of  Homer,  A.c,-  /.!>.*/.=*  Jxpir-nici  the 
most  exalted  praise,  according  to  him,  that  can  he 
given  to  a  mortal,  and  which  that  poet  ascribes  only 
to  Minos. 

Notwithstanding  no  shining  and  solid  a  merit,  the 
theatres  of  Athens  resounded  with  imprecations 
against  the  memory  of  Minos;  and  Socrates,  in  the 
dialogue  of  Plato,  which  I  have  already  often  cited, 
obseivts  upon,  and  gives  the  reason  for  them:  but 
first  he  makes  a  reflection  well  worthy  of  being 
weighed:  "When  either  the  praise  or  dispraise  of 
grent  men  is  in  question,  it  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance," says  he,  "to  make  use  of  circumspection  and 
wisdom;  because  upon  that  depends  the  idea  men 
form  to  themselves  of  virtue  and  vice,  and  the  dis- 
tinction they  ought  to  make  between  the  good  and 
the  bad.  For,"  adds  he,  "  God  conceives  a  just  in- 
dignation when  a  prince  is  blamed  who  resembles 
himself,  and  on  the  contrary  another  praised  who  is 
directly  the  reverse.  We  must  not  believe  that  no- 
thing is  sacred  but  brass  and  marble  (he  speaks  of 
the  statues  that  were  worshipped;)  the  just  man  is 
the  most  sacred,  and  the  wicked  the  most  detestable, 
of  all  beings  in  this  world." 

Alter  this  reflection,  Socrates  observes,  that  the 
source  and  cause  of  the  Athenians'  hatred  of  Minos 
was  the  unjust  and  cruel  tribute  he  imposed  upon 
them,  in  obliging  them  to  send  him,  every  nine  years, 
seven  voung  men  and  as  many  maids,  to  be  devoured 
by  the-  Minotaur:  and  he  cannot  avoid  reproaching 
that  prince  with  having  drawn  upon  himself  the  ab- 
horrence of  a  city  like  Athens,  abounding  with  learned 
men,  and  of  having  sharpened  the  tongues  of  the  poets 
against  him,  a  dangerous  and  formidable  race  of  men, 
from  the  poisoned  shafts  which  they  never  fail  to  let 
fly  against  their  enemies. 

'  It  appears  from  what  I  have  repeated,  that  Plato 
imputes  to  this  Minos  of  whom  we  are  treating,  the 
imposition  of  that  cruel  tribute.  Apollodorus,  Strabo, 
•  ml  Plutarch  seem  to  be  of  the  same  opinion.  The 
Abbe  Banier8  alleges  and  proves  that  they  are  mis- 
taken, and  confound  the  first  Minos,  of  whom  we 
*r>eak,with  a  second,  his  grandson,  who  reigned  after 
him  in  Crete,  and  who,  to  avenge  the  death  of  his  son 
Androgeus,  killed  in  Attica,  declared  war  against  the 
Athenians,  and  imposed  that  tribute,  to  which  Theseus 
put  an  end  by  killing  the  Minotaur.  It  would  indeed 
be  difficult  to  reconcile  so  inhuman  and  barbarous  a 
conduct  with  what  all  antiquity  relates  of  the  good- 
ies*, lenity,  and  equity  of  Minos,  and  with  the  mag- 
nificent praises  it  bestows  upon  the  polity  and  insti- 
tutions of  Crete. 

[t  is  true,  that  in  after-times  the  Cretan*  degene- 

»  Plat,  in  Min.  p.  321.  •  Tbid.  p.  319. 

•  Et  Jovi*  arcani*  Mino«  admiirus.    llorat. 

•  This   poeti.-al  fiction   is  p.<rha[>i  taken  from  the  Holy 
Script  urt's,  which  say  of  Mores:  '  And  the  Lord  spake  onto 
Musi's  face  to  face,  a*  a  man  ipeaketh  unto  his  friend.' — 
Erad   xjexiii.  11. 

•  O(iy=s.  T.  vor.  170. 

•  Mem.  dc  1'Acad.  dei  In»crip.  torn.  iii. 
VCL  1—51 


rated  very  much  from  their  ancient  reputation,  which 
at  length  they  absolutely  lost  by  an  entire  change  ot 
their  manners,  becoming  avaricious,  and  so  sell  in 
terested  as  to  think  that  no  gain  was  base,  enemies 
of  labour  and  regularity  of  lite,  professed  liars  and 
knaves;  so  that  to  Cretize  became  a  proverb  amongst 
the  Greeks,  implying  to  lie  and  to  deceive.  Every 
body  knows  that  St.  Paul7  cites  against  them  as  truth 
the  testimony  of  one  of  their  ancient  poets  (it  i*  be- 
lieved to  be  Epimenides,)  who  paints  them  in  colours 
much  to  their  dishonour.  But  this  change  of  man- 
ners, at  whatever  time  it  took  place,  does  not  at  all 
affect  the  probity  of  the  ancient  Cretans,  nor  the 
glory  of  Minos  their  kin£. 

The  most  certain  proof  of  that  legislator's  wisdom, 
as  Plato8  observes,  is  the  solid  and  lasting  happiness 
which  the  sole  imitation  of  his  laws  effected  at  Sparta. 
Lycurgus  had  regulated  the  government  of  that  city 
upon  the  plan  and  idea  of  that  of  Crete;  and  it  sub- 
sisted in  a  uniform  manner  for  many  ages,  without 
experiencing  the  vicissitudes  and  revolutions  so  com- 
mon in  all  the  other  states  of  Greece. 


ARTICLE  II 

OF  THE    GOVERNMENT  OF  ATHENS. 

THE  government  of  Athens  was  neither  so  perma 
nent  nor  so  uniform  as  that  of  Sparta,  but  suffered 
various  alterations,  according  to  the  diversity  of  times 
and  conjunctures.  Athens,  after  having  long  been  go- 
verned by  kings,  and  afterwards  by  archons,  assumed 
entire  liberty,  which  gave  place,  however,  for  some 
years  to  the  tyrannic  power  of  the  Pisistratidse,  but 
was  soon  after  re-established,  and  subsisted  with 
splendour  till  the  defeat  in  Sicily,  and  the  taking  ot* 
the  city  by  the  Lacedaemonians.  The  latter  subjected 
them  to  tne  thirty  tyrants,  whose  authority  was  not 
of  long  duration,  and  gave  place  again  to  liberty 
which  continued  amidst  various  events  during  a  long 
series  of  year?,  till  the  Roman  power  had  subdued 
Greece,  and  reduced  it  into  a  province. 

I  shall  conside-  in  this  place  only  the  popular  go- 
vernment, and  shall  examine  in  particular  five  or  six 
heads  of  it:  the  foundation  of  their  government  ac- 
cording to  Solon's  establishment;  the  different  parts 
of  which  the  republic  consisted  ;  the  council  or  senate 
of  Five  Hundred;  the  assemblies  of  the  people;  the 
different  tribunals  for  the  administration  of  justice. 
the  revenues  or  finances  of  the  republic.  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  dwell  more  at  large  upon  what  regards  the 
government  of  Athens,  than  I  have  upon  that  of  Spar- 
ta, because  the  latter  is  almost  sufficiently  known, 
from  what  has  been  said  of  it  in  the  life  of  Lycurgus.' 

SECTION    I.  —  FOUNDATION  OF  THE  GOVERNMENT 
OF  ATHENS  ACCORDING  TO  SOLON'S  PLAN. 

Sorx)N  was  not  the  first  who  established  the  popu- 
lar government  at  Athens.10  Theseus  long  before 
him  had  traced  out  the  plan,  and  begun  the  execu- 
tion of  it.  After  having  united  the  twelve  towns  into 
one  city,  he  divided  the  inhabitants  into  three  bodies 
that  of  the  nobility,  to  whom  the  superintendence  of 
religious  affairs  and  all'  offices  were  confided;  the 
labourers,  or  husbandmen,  and  the  artisans.  He  had 
proposed  the  establishment  of  a  kind  of  equality 
between  the  three  orders.  For  if  the  nobles  were 
considerable  by  their  honours  and  dignities,  the  hus- 
bandmen had  the  advantage  from  their  utility  to  the 
public,  and  the  neressity  there  wns  for  their  labour*; 
and  the  artisans  had  the  superiority  to  both  the  other 
bodies  from  their  number.  Athens,  properly  speak- 
ing, did  not  become  a  popular  state  till  the  establish- 
ment of  the  nine  Archons,  whose  authority  continued 
only  for  one  year,  whereas  before  it  lasted  for  ten; 
and  it  was  not  till  many  years  after  that  Solon,  by  the 
wisdom  of  his  laws,  confirmed  and  regulated  this  form 
of  eovernment. 


Kfirit  ill  ^«C«"r»i,  xaxx  5»pi'»,  y»fifn  ify»i.  Th* 
Cretans  are  always  liars,  eril  heaiti,  slow  beliic*.—  Tittt 
i.  12. 

•  Plat.  p.  320.  •  Pago  967—275 

«•  Plut.  in  Thcs.  p.  10,  11. 

us 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Solon  s  great  principle  was  to  establish  as  much 
as  possible  a  kind  of  equality  amongst  his  citizens, 1 
which  he  regarded  with  reason  a*  the  foundation  and 
essential  point  of  ./berty.  He  resolved  therefore  to 
leave  the  public  employments  in  the  hands  of  the  rich, 
as  they  had  been  till  then;  but  to  give  the  poor  also 
some  share  in  the  government,  from  which  they  were 
excluded.  For  this  reason  he  made  an  estimation  of 
what  each  individual  was  worth.  Those  who  were 
found,  to  have  an  annual  revenue  of  500  measures,  as 
well  in  grain  as  liquids,  were  placed  in  the  first  class, 
and  called  the  Pentacosiomedimni,  that  is,  those  who 
had  a  revenue  of  500  measures.  The  second  class 
was  composed  of  such  as  had  300,  and  could  main- 
lain  a  horse  for  war;  these  were  called  horsemen  or 
knights.  Those  who  had  only  200,  were  in  the  third 
clas..,  and  were  called  Ziigitce..*  Out  of  these  three 
classes  alone  the  magistrates  and  commanders  were 
chosen.  All  the  other  citizens  who  were  below  these 
three  classes,  and  had  less  revenues,  were  comprised 
under  the  name  of  Theite,  }.  e.  hirelings,  or  rather 
workmerr  labouring  with  their  hands.  Solon  did  not 
permit  them  to  hold  anjr  office,  and  granted  them  only 
the  right  of  giving  their  suffrages  in  the  assemblies 
and  trials  of  the  people,  which  at  first  seemed  a  very 
slight  privilege,  but  at  length  was  found  to  be  a  very 
great  advantage,  as  will  appear  in  the  sequel.  1  do 
not  know  whether  Solon  foresaw  it,  but  ne  used  to 
say,  that  the  people  were  never  more  obedient  and 
submissive,  than  when  they  possessed  neither  too  much 
nor  too  little  liberty:*  which  comes  very  near  Gal- 
oa's  expression,  when,*  in  order  to  induce  Piso  to 
treat  the  Roman  people  with  mildness  and  lenity,  he 
desires  him  to  remember,5  that  he  was  going  to  com- 
mand men  who  were  incapable  of  bearing  either 
entire  liberty  or  absolute  subjection. 

The  people  of  Athens,'  being  become  more  haugh- 
ty after  their  victories  over  the  Feieians,  pretended 
to  have  a  right  to  share  in  all  the  public  offices  and 
magistracy:  and  Aristides,  to  prevent  the  disorders 
which  a  too  tenacious  opposition  might  have  oc- 
casioned, thought  proper  to  give  way  to  them  in  this 
point.  It  appears,  however,  from  a  passage  in  Xeno- 
phon,7  that  the  pt-ople  contented  themselves  with 
hose  offices  from  whence  some  pufit  arose,  and  left 

<se  which  related  more  particularly  to  the  govern- 
ment of  the  state  in  the  hands  of  the  rich. 

The  citizens  of  the  first  three  classes  paid  every 
••ar  a  certain  sum  of  money.8  to  be  laid  up  in  the 
,xiblic  treasury:  the  first  a  talent,9  the  Knights  half 
a  talent,  and  the  Zugitae  ten  mime.10 

As  the  proportion  of  revenue  determined  the  order 
of  the  classes,  as  their  revenues  augmented,  the  peo- 
ple were  allowed  to  rise  to  a  superior  class. 

If  Plutarch,"  may  be  believed,  Solon  formed  two 
councils,  which  were  the  two  anchors,  as  it  were,  of 
the  commonwealth,  to  secure  it  from  being  shaken 
by  the  commotions  of  the  assemblies  of  the  people. 
The  first  was  the  Areopagus;  but  it  was  much  more 
ancient  than  his  institutions,  and  he  only  reformed  it, 
and  gave  it  new  lustre,  by  augmenting  its  power. 
The  second  was  the  council  of  the  Four  Hundred, 
that  is,  100  of  each  tribe;  for  Cecrops,  the  first  king 
of  the  Athenians,  had  divided  the  people  into  four 
tribes.  Clisthenes  long  afterhim  changed  that  order, 
and  established  ten.  It  was  in  this  council  of  the 
Four  Hundred  that  all  affairs  were  considered  before 
they  were  proposed  to  the  assembly  of  the  people,  as 
we  shall  soon  explain. 

I  do  not  mention  here  another  division  of  the  peo- 


i  Plut.  in  Solon,  p.  67. 

»  It  is  believed  they  were  so  railed  from  their  being  rank- 
ed between  the  Knight*  and  tho  Thelae  ;  n.=  in  the  galleyi 
those  who  rowed  in  the  middle  were  termed  Zugitae  ;  their 
plnce  was  between  the  TlialamitB  and  Thranitce. 

»   Pibt.  in  Solon,  p.  110. 

«  Tacit.  Hist.  I.  x.  c.  16. 

>  ImperaturuB  cs  hominibuK,  qui  ner.  totam  servitutcro 
nati  possunt  nee  totam  liberlatt-m. 

•  Plut.  in.  Arietid.  p.  XK. 

i  \Vnoph.  de  rep.  A  then.  p.  691 

•  Pollux.  I.  viii.  c.  10. 

•  One  thousand  French  crowoJ 

M  fir«  hundred  livrea.  «'  la  Solon,  p.  88 


pie  into  three  parties  or  factions,  which  till  thr.  tim« 
of  Pisistra'tus  were  a  continual  source  of  troubiel 
and  seditions.  One  of  these  three  parties  was  form- 
ed out  of  those  who  inhabited  the  highlands;  and 
these  favoured  popular  government:  the  oilier,  out 
of  those  who  lived  in  the  plains;  and  they  were  for 
oligarchy:  and  the  third  out  of  the  people  upon  tha 
coast;  and  these  held  the  mean  between  both. 

It  is  necessary,  for  the  better  understanding  what 
we  have  now  said,  to  enter  into  a  more  particular  ac 
count  of  the  Athenian  people. 

SECTION  II.— OF  THE  INHABITANTS  (if  ATHEJiB. 

THERE  were  three    sorts  of  in- 
inhabitants    of    Athens;12  citizens,  A.  M.  369tt 

strangers,  and  servants.  In  the  Ant,  J.C.311 
account  taken  by  Demetrius  Pha- 
lereus  in  the  cxvith  Olympiad,  their  number  amoun 
ted  to  21.000  citizens,  10,000  strangers,  and  40,00€ 
servants.18  The  number  of  citizi  its  was  almost  the 
same  in  the  time  of  Cecrops,  and  less  under  l't  rides 

1 .  Of  the  Citizens. 

A  citizen  conld  only  be  such  by  birth  01  adoption 
To  be  a  natural  deniz'.-n  of  Athens,  it  was  mcessary 
to  be  born  of  a  father  and  mother  both  free,  and 
Ath*nians.  We  have  seen  that  Pericles  restored  if 
all  its  force  this  law,  which  had  not  been  exactly  ob- 
served, and  which  he  himself  some  short  time  aftei 
infringed.  The  people  could  confer  the  freedom  of 
the  city  upon  strangers;  and  those  whom  they  had 
so  adopted  enjoyed  almost  the  same  lights  mid  pri 
vilcges  as  the  natural  citizens.  Tlie  quality  of  citi 
zen  of  Athens  was  sometimes  granted  as  an  honout 
and  mark  of  gratitude  to  those  who  had  rendered 
great  services  to  the  state;  as  to  Hippocrates;  ana 
even  kings  have  sometimes  canvassed  that  title  loi 
themselves  or  their  children.  Evagoras,  king  of  Cy 
prns,  thought  it  much  to  his  honour. 

When  the  young  men  had  attained  the  age  of 
twenty,  they  were  enrolled  upon  the  list  of  citizens 
after  having  taken  an  oath;  and  it  was  only  in  virtui 
of  that  public  and  solemn  act  that  they  became  mem 
bers  of  the  state.  The  form  of  this  oath  is  exceed- 
ingly remarkable,  which  Stobteus  and  Pollux  '•  hav« 
preserved  iu  the  following  words:  "  1  will  never  dis- 
honour the  profession  of  arms,  nor  save  my  life  hj  a 
shameful  (light.  I  will  fight  to  my  last  breath  for  tha 
religion  and  civil  interests  of  the  state,  in  concert  with 
the  other  citizens,  and  alone  if  occasion  be.  I  \\  ill  not 
bring  my  country  into  a  worse  condition  than  I  (bund 
it,  but  will  use  my  utmost  endeavours  to  make  it  more 
flourishing.  I  will  always  submit  myself  to  the  law* 
and  magistrates,  and  to  whatsoever  shall  be  ordained 
by  the  common  consent  of  the  people.  If  any  one 
shall  violate,  or  attempt  to  annul,  the  laws,  i  will 
not  disguise  or  conceal  such  an  enterprise,  but  will 
oppose  it  either  alone  or  in  conjunction  with  my 
fellow-citizens;  and  I  will  constantly  adhere  to  tha 
religion  of  my  forefathers.  To  all  which  I  call  to 
witness  Agraulos,  Envalius,  Mars,  and  Jupiter."  1 
leave  the  reader  to  his  own  reflections  upon  this  au- 
gust ceremony,  well  adapted  to  inspire  the  love  of 
their  country  in  the  hearts  of  the  young  citizens. 

The  whole  people  at  first  had  been  divided  into 
four  tribes,  and  afterwards  into  ten.  Each  tribe  was 
subdivided  into  several  parts,  which  were  called  Jj^oi, 
pagi.  It  was  by  these  two  title*  that  the  citizens  were 
described  in  the  public  acts,  Melitus,  I  triiu  C'ccr>>- 
pide,  I  pago  Pitthensi. 

2.  Of  the  Strangers. 

I  call  those  by  that  name  who,  being  of  a  foreign 
country,  came  to  settle  at  Athens  or  in  Attica,  whe- 
ther for  the  sake  of  commerce,  or  the  exercising  any 
trade.  They  were  termed  ^freixsi,  irtqiiilini.  They 
had  no  share  in  the  government,  nor  votes  in  the  as- 
sembly of  the  people,  and  could  not  be  admitted  in- 
to any  office.  They  put  themselves  under  the  pro- 


it  Athen.  1.  vi.  p.  272. 

i»  The  text   sayg.  ^vfixJxj  Tnr<r«(ixovT«   four 
thousand  ;  which  is  a  manifest  error. 
»«  Pollux,  I.  viii.  c.  9. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


403 


lection  of  come  citizens,  at  we  find  from  a  passage  of 
Teience,1  and  uj>on  that  account  were  obliged  to 
render  him  certain  duties  and  services,  as  the  client* 
did  at  Koine  to  their  patrons.  They  were  bound  to 
observe  all  the  laws  ol  ihe  lepublic,  and  to  conlorni 
entirely  to  all  its  customs.  They  paid  a  yearly  tri- 
bute tu  the  state  ol  twelve  drachmas;*  and  in  de- 
fault of  payment  were  made  slaves,  and  exposed  to 
salt  .  Xenocrates.3  the  celebrated  but  poor  philoso- 
pher, was  very  near  experiencing  this  misioilune, 
and  was  being  carried  to  prison;  but  Ljmmu,  the 
orator,  having  paid  the  tux,  relented  him  from  the 
hands  of  the  tanners  of  the  public  revenues;  a  kind 
ol  UK  i)  who  in  all  times  have  been  very  little  sensible 
to  merit,  with  the  exception  of  an  exceeding  lew  ol 
their  number.  That  philosopher,  meeting  some  time 
alter  the  sons  ol  his  deliverer,  told  them:  "1  pay 
your  father  the  favour  he  has  done  me  with  usury, 
for  all  the  world  praises  him  upon  my  account." 

3.  Of  the   Servants. 

These  were  of  two  kinds.  The  one  who  were 
free,  and  not  able  to  get  their  bread  by  their  work, 
were  obliged  by  the  bad  state  of  their  atiair;  to  go 
into  service,  and  llteir  condition  was  reputable  and 
not  laborious.  The  service  ol  the  other  was  forced 
and  consliained :  these  were  slaves  who  had  either 
btm  titktn  prisoners  in  war,  or  bought  of  such  as 
ti-btlicked  publicly  in  thtm.  They  formed  part  ol 
the  property  ol  their  inasU  rs,  who  disposed  absolute- 
ly ol  them,  but  generally  treated  (him  with  great 
humanity.  Demosthenes  observe?,*  in  one  of  his 
harangues,  that  the  condition  ol  servants  was  infin- 
itely more  gentle  at  Athens  than  any  where  else. 
There  was  in  that  city  an  SIM  lum  and  place  of  refuge 
fur  slaves,  where  the  bones  of  Theseus  had  been  in- 
terred, and  that  a>\  him  still  subsist  d  in  Plutarch's 
tune,  How  glorious  was  it  for  Theseus,  that  his 
tomb  should  do  that,  1200  years  alter  his  death, 
which  he  had  done  himself  during  his  life,  and  con- 
tinue the  protector  of  the  oppressed  as  he  had  been! 

When  the  slaves  vveir  treated  with  too  much  ri- 
gour and  inhumanity,5  they  had  their  action  against 
their  masters,  who  were  obliged  to  sell  them  to  oth- 
ers, it  the  lact  was  sutlicie  ntlv  proved.  They  could 
ransom  themselves  even  against  their  masters'  con- 
sent,6 when  they  had  laid  up  money  enough  lor  that 
purpose.  For  out  of  what  they  got  by  their  labour, 
alter  having  paid  a  certain  proportion  to  their  mas- 
ters, they  kept  the  remainder  lor  themselves,  and 
made  a  stock  which  was  at  their  own  disposal.  Pri- 
vate persons,  when  they  were  satisfied  with  their  ser- 
vices, often  gave  these  slaves  their  liberty  ;  and  the 
same  favour  was  often  granted  them  by  the  public, 
when  the  necessity  of  the  times  obliged  the  s^te  to 
put  arms  in  their  hands  and  enlist  them  amongst  the 
citizens. 

The  humane  and  equitable  manner  in  which  the 
Athenians  treated  their  servants  and  slaves,  was  an 
effect  of  the  good  temper  natural  to  that  people,  and 
very  remote  Iron)  the  austere  and  cruel  severity  of 
the  l.acedu  nioiiians  towards  their  Helot*1,  which 
often  brought  their  republic  to  the  very  brink  of 
destruction.  1  lutarch,7  with  great  reason  condemns 
this  rigour.  He  thinks  it  proper  to  habituate 
nne't  self  always  to  mercy,  even  with  regard  to 
bra»t«.  were  it  onlv,  says  he,  to  learn  by  that  means 
to  treat  men  well,  and  to  serve,  as  it  were,  an  ap- 

Crenticeship  to  humanity  and  benevolence.  He  re- 
ites.  upon  this  occasion,  a  very  singular  fact,  and 
one  well  calculated  to  give  an  idea  of  the  character 
of  the  Athenians.  After  having  finished  the  temple 
called  Hecalompedon,  they  set  all  the  beasts  of  bur- 
den at  liberty,  that  had  been  employed  in  the  work, 
and  assigned'  them  fkt  pasturages  as  consecrated  ani- 
mals. And  it  was  said,  that  one  of  these  beasts  hav- 
ing come  to  offer  itself  at  the  work,  and  put  itself  at 
the  head  of  those  that  drew  the  carts  to  the  cita- 

>  Tliaii  putri  to  commcndavit  in  clientelam  et  fidem  : 
Nodi*  dedit  wsc.  £«n*cA.  An. 5.  seen.  ult. 

•  SI.T  livrr-s.  *  1'lut.  in  Flumin.  p.  375. 

«  Philip.  3.  •  Pint,  de  nupcritit.  n  166. 

•  Plaut  in  Cuin.  •  1'lut.  in  Caloiie,  p.  338,  339. 


del,  walking  foremost,  as  if  to  exhort  and  encourage) 
them,  the  Athenians  ordained  by  a  deciee  that  tn« 
:  reature  should  be  maintained  at  the  public  expense 
till  its  death. 

SECTION    III. — OF  THE   CCU1SCIL   OR    SKJVATE  Of 
K1\K    111  M.lil.H. 

IN  consequence  of  Solon's  institutions,  the  people 
of  Athens  had  a  great  share  and  authority  in  the 
government.  Appeal*  might  be  brought  to  their 
tribunals  in  all  ca.-is;  they  i.aii  a  ri«ht  to  cancel  the 
old  laws  and  establish  new  ones;  in  a  wold,  all  im- 
portant ariairs,  whether  relating  to  war  or  peace, 
were  decided  in  their  assemblies.  '  In  order  lhat 
their  determinations  should  be  made  with  moie  wis- 
dom and  maturity,  Solon  had  instituted  a  council, 
composed  of  400*  senatois,  100  out  of  each  liibe, 
which  were  then  four  in  number;  and  they  ptepaitd 
and  digested  the  affairs  utiich  wete  to  be  laid  belore: 
the  people,  as  we  thai)  soon  explain  more  Hi  large. 
C'listhenes,  about  100  v ears  aiier  Solon,  having  in- 
creased the  number  ot  the  tribes  to  ten,  augmented 
also  that  of  the  senators  to  500,  each  tribe  M' j  |  l>  ing 
fitly.  This  was  called  the  council,  or  senate,  ol  the 
Five  Hundred.  '1  hey  received  their  stipend  out  of 
the  public  treasury. 

Tney  were  chosen  by  lot,  in  which  they  made  use 
of  blue  k  and  while  beans,  which  were  n, ingle d  and 
shaken  in  an  urn;  and  each  tribe  gave  in  the  names 
of  those  who  aspire  n  to  that  trust,  and  had  the  reve- 
nueassigned  by  the  laws  to  qualify  them  for  it.  None 
could  be  admitted  under  the  age  ol  ihiity.  Allei  in- 
quiry made  into  the  manner*  mid  conduct  ol  the  can- 
dida'te,  he  was  made  to  take  an  oath,  wheiebv,  he  en- 
gtiged  to  give  at  all  times  the  best  council  he  could  to 
the  people  of  Athens,  and  never  tu  depart  in  the  least 
from  the  tenor  of  the  laws. 

'1  his  senate  asu  iiibled  every  day,  except  upon  the 
days  appointed  for  festivals.  Each  tribe  in  Us  turn 
furnished  those  who  were  to  preside  in  it,  calle  d  try- 
tones  f  and  this  rank  was  decided  by  lot.  '1  l.i>  p«  si- 
dency  continued  thirty -five  uav  s,  which  being  lei'kon- 
ed  ten  times,  amounts  to  the  number  ot  c'av  s  except 
four,  of  the  lunar  year  followed  at  Athens.  'I  I. is 
time  of  the  presidency,  or  prylanism,  was-  dim  ed  into 
live  weeks,  regard  being  had  to  the  five  tens  of  the 
Prytnnet,  who  were  to  preside  in  them,  and  every 
wtek  seven  of  these  ten  I'rytanes  drawn  In  lot  pit- 
sided,  each  their  day,  and  weie  denominated  Ii,.ii,c., 
that  \»  to  say,  presidents.  He  who  was  so  le-r  the 
elay,9  presided  in  the  assembly  of  the  senalots  and  in 
that  of  the  people.  He  was-  charged  with  the  public 
seal,  as  also  with  the  keys  ot  the  citadel  and  trea- 
sury. 

The  senators-,  before  they  assembled,  offered  a  sa- 
crifice to  Jupiter  and  Minerva,  under  the  additional 
appellation  of  givers  (if' good  counsel,10  to  implore 
from  them  the  prudence  and  understanding  neces- 
sary to  lorm  wise  deliberations.  The  president  pro- 
posted  'he  business  which  was  to  be  considered  in 
the  assembly.  Every  one  gave  his  opinion  in  hi* 
turn,  and  always  standing.  Atte-r  a  question  had  been 
settled,  it  was  drawn  up  in  writing,  and  read  with  a 
loud  voice.  Each  senator  then  gave  his  vote  by 
scrutiny,  by  putting  a  bean  into  the  urn.  It  ll.e  while 
bean«  carried  it,  the  question  passed,  otherwise  it  wa» 
rejected.  This  sort  of  decree  was  called  t  •ic'c-j.  -,<>r 
lljeccvx-iviUM,  as  much  as  to  say,  a  preparatory  resolu- 
tion, it  was- afterwards  laid  before  the  assembly  of 
the  people,  where,  if  it  was  receiver)  and  approved, 
it  had  tne  force  of  a  law,  if  not,  its  authorily  subsis- 
ted only  one  year.  Thi*  shows  with  what  wisdom 
Solon  established  this  council,  to  inform  and  direct 
the  people,  to  fix  their  inconstani-y,  to  check  tl.eir 
temerity,  and  to  impart  to  their  deliberations  a  pru- 
dence and  maturity  not  to  be  expected  in  a  contused 
and  tumultuous  assembly  composed  of  a  great  mini 
ber  of  citizens,  most  of  them  without  education,  ca- 
pacity, or  much  zeal  for  the  public  good.  The 
re.-ip'rocal  dependency  and  mutual  concurrence  of  lltt 


•  He  »a-  railed  ' 


404 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


two  bodies  of  the  state,  which  were  obliged  to  lend  i 
each   other  their   authority,    and    remained  equally  ] 
without    force    when    without    union    and    a    goo.-  | 
understanding,   were   besides    a  method  judiciously  J 
contrived  for"sup|x>rting  a  wise  balance  between    the 
two  bodies;  llie  people   not  being  able  to  enact  any 
tiling  without  its  being   first   proposed  and  approved 
bv  the  senate,  nor  the  senate  to  pass  any  decree  into 
a  'law  till  it  hud  beeo  ratified  by  the  people. 

We  may  judge  of  the  importance  of  this  council 
bv  the  ma'tters  which  were  treated  in  it;  the  same, 
without  any  exception,  as  were  laid  before  the  peo- 
ple;— wars,  taxes,  maritime  affair*,  treaties  of  peace, 
alliance*;  in  a  word,  whatever  related  to  govern- 
ment; without  mentioning  the  account  which  they 
obliged  the  magistrates  to  give  on  quitting  their  offi- 
ces, and  the  frequent  decisions  and  judgments  upon 
the  most  serious  and  important  affairs. 

SECTION    IV.— OF  THE  AREOPAGUS. 

THIS  council  took  its  name  from  the  place  where 
it  held  its  meetings  called  the  quarter,1  or  hill  nf 
Mars,  because,  according  to  some.  Mars  had  been  ci- 
ted thither  to  trial  for  a  murder  committed  by  him. 
It  was  believed  to  be  as  ancient  as  the  nation.  Cice- 
ro and  Plutarch  attribute  the  institution  of  it  to  So- 
lon: but  he  only  re-established  it  by  giving  it  more 
lustre  and  authority  than  it  had  had  till  then,  and  for 
that  reason  was  looked  upon  as  its  founder.  The 
number  of  the  senators  of  the  Areopagus  was  not  fix- 
ed; at  certain  times  thej  amounted  to  two  or  three 
hundred.  Solon  thought  proper  that  only  those  who  j 
had  borne  the  office  of  archon  should  be  honoured 
with  that  dignity. 

This  senate  had  the  care  of  seeing  the  laws  duly 
observed,  of  inspecting  the  manners  of  the  people, 
and  especially  of  judging  in  criminal  cases.  The} 
held  their  sittings  in  an  o}:en  place,  and  during  the 
night.  The  former  very  probably  to  avoid  being  1 
under  the  same  roof  with  the  criminals,  and  not  to  j 
defile  themselves  bv  such  an  intercourse  with  them; 
the  latter,  that  they  might  not  be  softened  bv  the 
sight  of  the  guilty,  and  might  judge  solely  accord- 
ing to  justice  arid  the  laws.  It  was  for  the  same 
reason,  that,  in  presence  of  these  judges,  the  ora- 
tors were  not  permitted  to  use  any  exordium  or 
peroration,  nor  allowed  to  excite  the  passions,  but 
were  obliged  to  confine  themselves  soley  to  the  subject 
matter  of  their  cause.  The  severity  of  their  judg- 
ments was  exceedingly  dreaded,  particularly  in  re- 
gard to  murder,  and  they  were  highly  attentive  to 
inspire  their  citirens  with  horror  for  that  crime. 
They  *  condemned  a  child  to  be  put  to  death  for 
nmkinir  it  his  pastime  to  put  out  the  eves  of  quails; 

•      •  L«  •  •  *  L  I 

conceiving  this  sanguinary  inclination  as  the  mark 
of  a  very  wicked  disposition,  which  might  one  day 
prove  fatal  to  many,  if  it  were  suffered  to  grow  up 
frith  impunity. 

The  affairs  of  religion,  as  blasphemies  against  the 
gods,  contempt  of  the  sacred  mysteries,  dinen  nt  spe- 
cies of  inipietr.  and  the  introduction  of  newteremo- 
nies  and  ne«v  divinities,  were  also  brought  before  this 
tribunal.  We  read  in  Justin  Martyr,*  that  Plato, 
who  in  his  travels  in  Egypt  had  acquired  great  lights 
concerning  the  unity  of  GOD,  when  he  returned  to 
Athens,  took  great  care  to  dissemble  and  conceal  his 
terrtiments,  for  fear  of  being  obliged  to  ap|>ear,  and 
pive  an  account  of  them  before  the  Areopagitre;  and 
we  know  that  St.  Paul  was  traduced  before  them,  as 
teaching  a  new  doctrine,*  and  endeavouring  to  intro- 
duce new  gods. 

These  juil<rei  were  in  great  reputation  for  their 
pr»bily.  equity,  and  prudence,  and  generally  respec- 
ted.. Cicero,  in  writing  to  his  friend  Atticus,  upon 
the  fortitude,  constancy,  and  wise  severity  of  the 
Roman  senate,  thinks  he  makes  a  great  encomium 


•  N'T  mihi  videntur  Areopagitc,  rum  damnavrrunt 
pu-  rum  orului  coiurnicum  cruenlem.  aliuil  judieaaie,  ijuAm 
id  signum  M*e  perni«io«i«sim(p  mentii,  niultijijue  malo  fu- 
(u'«  »i  a-tolcvisset.  Quintil.  I.  v.  e.  9. 

«  ''nliciM.  ad  Gr^r. 

«  Acu  xrii  18—20. 


upon  it  in  compaiing  it  with  the  Areopagin.  Sena* 
/us,3  'Af,.s{  iraj.o{,  nil  cititslanlitis,  nil  stvtriits,  nil 
fortius.  Cicero  must  have  conceived  a  verv  advan- 
tageous idea  of  it,  to  s|*-.ak  of  it  as  he  doe*  in  the 
first  book  of  hi*  Offices.  He  compares  the  famous 
battle  of  Salami-,6  in  which  Themistocles  had  so 
great  a  part,  with  the  establishment  of  the  Areopa- 
gus, which  he  ascribes  to  Solon:  and  mal.-s  no  scru- 
ple to  prefer,  or  at  least  to  equal,  the  legislal.jr's 
service  to  that  for  which  Athens  was  obliged  to  the 
general  of  its  army.  "  For  in  reality,"  says  he,  "  that 
victory  was  useful  to  the  republic  only  tor  once, 
but  the  Areopagus  will  be  so  throughout  ,&ll  ai;ts, 
as  by  the  wisdom  of  that  tribunal,  the  laws  ;.iul  nu- 
cient  customs  of  the  Athenian  slate  are  preserved. 
Themistocles  did  no  service  to  the  Areo|>agus,  but 
the  Areopagus  abundantly  contributed  to  tne  vic- 
tory of  Themistocles;  because  the  republic  was  at 
that  time  directed  by  the  wise  councils  of  that  au- 
gust senate." 

It  appears  from  this  pas.«age  of  Cicero,  that  the 
Areopagus  had  a  great  share  in  the  government,  and 
I  do  not  doubt  but  it  was  consulted  upon  important 
affairs.  Cicero  here  perhaps  may  have  confounded 
the  council  of  the  Areopagus  with  that  of  the  Five 
Hundred.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  Areopagitae 
were  extremely  active  in  the  public  affairs. 

Pericles,  who  could  never  enter  the  A  reopasu?,  be- 
cause, chance  having  always  been  against  mm,  he 
had  not  passed  through  any  of  the  employment*  ne- 
cessary to  his  admission,  attempted  to  weaken  its  au- 
thority, and  attained  his  point;  which  is  a  great  blot 
in  his  reputation. 

SECTIONS'    V. — OF  THE   MAGISTRATES. 

OF  these  a  great  number  were  established  for  dif- 
ferent functions.  I  shall  speak  only  of  the  Archons, 
who  are  the  most  known.  I  have  observed  elsewhere 
that  they  succeeded  the  kings,  and  that  their  authori- 
ty at  first  continued  during  life.  It  was  afterward* 
limited  to  ten  vears,  and  reduced  at  last  only  to  one 
When  Solon  was  commissioned  to  reform  the  gov- 
ernment, he  found  them  upon  this  loot,  and  to  the 
number  of  nine.  He  did  not  abolish  their  office,  but 
he  very  much  diminished  their  power. 

The  first  of  these  nine  magistrate*  was  called  THE 
ARCHON,  bv  way  of  eminence,  and  the  year  denomi- 
nated from  him:  Under  such  anslrchon,  such  a  mittle 
was  fought."1  The  second  was  called  THF.  KING, 
which  was  a  remnant  and  vestige  of  the  authority  to 
which  they  had  succeeded.  The  third  wb«  THE 
Pol.EMARCH,  who  at  first  commanded  the  armies,  and 
always  retained  that  name,  though  he  had  not  the 
same  authority, of  which,  however,  he  had  yet  preser- 
ved sftme  part.  For  we  have  seen,  in  speaking  of 
the  battle  of  Marathon,  that  the  polemarch  had  a 
right  to  vote  in  the  council  of  war,  as  well  as  the  ten 
generals  then  in  command.  The  six  other  archoni 
were  called  by  the  common  name,  THESMOTHET.E, 
which  implies  that  they  had  a  particular  superinten- 
dence over  the  laws,  in  order  to  their  being  duly  ob- 
served.  These  nine  archons  had  each  of  them  a  pe- 
culiar province,  and  were  judges  in  certain  affairs  al- 
lotted to  their  cognizance.  I  do  not  think  it  necessary 
to  enter  into  the  particulars  of  their  duty,  nor  into 
those  of  many  othrer  employments  and  offices  estab- 
lished for  the  Rdmini»tration  of  justice,  for  the  levy- 
ing of  taxes  and  tributes,  for  the  preservation  of  good 
order  in  the  city,  for  supplying  it  with  provisions;  in 
a  word,  for  every  thing  relating  to  commerce  and 
civil  society. 


»  Ad  Attic.  I.  i.  ep.  13. 

•  Quamvis   Thcmistoclei  jure  landetnr.  et  sit  cjo*  no 
men,  quAm  Solonix,  lilustriui,  citeturque  Salami*  c.V»ri?*i- 
mx    leslia    Victoria,  qua?    antcpunbtur  i-onsilio  Solon  i*  ei, 
quo  prirnum  ronsliluil  Areojiagita*  :  non  minus   praTlarum 
hoc,  quam  illud.jndiean'lum  est.     Illud  enim  semi  1  prnfuit 
hoc  semper   proderit  civitati  :  hoc  ronsilio  Irprs  Athenien- 
aium.  hor   majorum  insiituta  scrvantur.     Et  Themwtoclei 
qyiilfm  niliil  dixerit,  in  quo  ipso  Areopagum  juvrrit :  at  ill* 
adjuvit   Themistoclem.     Est  enim  helium  ge«tum  consilio 
S'liaiuo  ejus,  qui  a  Solone  erat  const  it  ului.     Ofe.  1   i.  n. 
75. 

*  From  thence  he  WM  alto  called  •£«••»»>••». 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


405 


SECTION 


THE      ASSEMBLIES     OF     THE 
PEOPLE. 


THESE  were  of  two  sorts:  the  one  ordinary  and 
fixed  to  certain  dav*,  and  fur  these  there  was  no  kind 
of  summons:  the  other  extraordinary,  according;  to 
the  different  occasions  that  arose,  and  the  people 
were  informed  ot"  it  by  express  proclamation. 

The  place  for  the  assenA>ly  was  not  fixed.  Some- 
tunes  it  WHS  the  public  market-place,  sometimes  a 
part  of  the  citv  near  the  citadel,  called  Ilvvg,  and 
sometimes  the  theatre  of  Bacchus. 

Tbs  pry-tunes  generally  assembled  the  people.  Some 
days  btlore  the  assembly,  bills  were  fixed  up,  where- 
in the  business  to  be  considered  was  set  down. 

All  the  citi/.t-ns,  poor  as  well  as  rich,  had  a  right  to 
give  thtir  suffrages.  Those  were  liable  to  a  ptnalty 
who  failed  of  being  present  at  the  assembly,  or  who 
came  lute;  and  to  induce  their  punctual  attendance, 
a  reward  WHS  annexed  to  it,  at  first  of  an  obolus, 
which  was  the  sixth  part  of  a  drachma,  then  of  three 
.)bnli.  which  made  about  five  pence  French. 

The    assembly  always    began  with    sacrifices  and 

{>ra\  (  i>,  in  order  to  obtain  from  the  gods  the  know- 
edge  and  understanding  necessary  to  wise  delibera- 
tions; and  they  never  failed  to  add  the  most  terrible 
imprecations  against  such  as  should  wilfully  advise 
any  tiling  -contrary  to  the  public  good. 

The  president  proposed  the  aflair  upon  which  they 
were  to  deliberate.  If  it  had  b«.en  examined  in  the 
senate,  and  decided  upon  there,  the  resolution  was 
read;  after  which  these  who  wished  to  speak  were 
invited  to  ascend  the  tribunal,  that  they  might  be 
the  better  heard  by  the  people,  and  inform  them  in 
the  matter  proposed.  The  oldest  generally  spoke 
first,  and  then  the  rest  according  to  their  seniority. 
When  the  orators  had  done  speaking,  and  given 
their  opinion,  that  it  was  necessary,  for  instance,  to 
approve  or  reject  the  decree  of  the  senalp,  the  peo- 
ple proceeded*^  to  vote;  and  the  most  common  method 
of  doing  it  was  by  holding  up  their  hands,  to  (it- 
note  their  approbation,  which  was  called  %.,,(-.*;,  ,j,. 
The  assembly  was  sometimes  adjourned  till  another 
day,  because  it  was  too  late  to  distinguish  the  num- 
ber of  those  that  lilted  up  their  hands,  and  to  decide 
which  party  had  the  majority.  After  a  resolution 
had  been  formed  in  this  manner,  it  was  reduced  to 
writing,  and  read  by  an  officer  to  the  people  with  a 
loud  voice,  who  confirmed  it  again  by  holding  up 
their  hands  as  before;  after  which  the  decree  had 
the  force  of  a  law.  And  this  was  called  4,1,  c-.j-^a,  from 
the  Creek  word  ^n?o,-,  which  signifies  a  pebble,  or 
tmnll  stone,  because  they  were  sometimes  used  in 
giving  sullrages  by  scrutiny.  All  the  great  affairs 
of  the  republic  were  discussed  in  these  assemblies. 
It  was  in  them  that  new  laws  were  proposed  and  old 
ones  amended;  every  thing  that  related  to  religion 
and  the  worship  of  the  gods  examined;  magistrates, 
ffenerils,  ami  officers  created;  their  behaviour  and 
conduct  inquired  into;  peace  or  war  concluded;  de- 
puties and  ambassadors  appointed;  treaties  and  alli- 
ances ratified  ;  freedom  of  the  ci'y  granted  ;  rewards 
and  honours  decreed  to  those  who  had  distinguished 
them-t  Ives  in  war,  or  rendered  great  services  to  the 
republic;  and  punishments  ordained  for  those  who 
had  behaved  themselves  ill,  or  had  violated  the  law* 
of  the  state,  and  were  banished  by  the  ostracism.  In 
fine,  justice  was  administered,  and  judgment  passed 
tht  re,  upon  the  most  important  affairs.  We  see 
from  this  account  —which  is,  however,  very  imperfect 
—  how  fur  the  people's  power  extended;  ami  with 
what  '.ruth  it  may  be  said,  that  the  government  of 
Athens,  though  qualified  by  the  aristocracy  and  the 
authority  of  the  elders,  was  by  its  constitution  demo- 
cratical  and  popular. 

I  shall  have  occasion  to  observe  in  the  sequel,  of 
what  weight  the  talent  of  eloquence  must  have 
been  in  such  a  republic;  and  in  what  great  repute 
orators  must  have  been  in  it.  It  is  not  easy  to  con- 
ceive how  they  could  make  themselves  heard  in  so 
numerous  an  assembly,  and  where  such  a  multitude 
Of  auditors  were  present.  We  may  judge  how  great 
that  was,  from  what  has  been  said  of  it  in  two  in- 


stances. The  first  relates  to  the  ostracism,  and  the 
other  to  the  adoption  of  a  stranger  for  a  citizen. 
On  each  of  these  occasions  it  was  necessary  that  no 
less  than  6000  citizens  should  be  present  in  the  as- 
sembly. 

I  reserve  for  another  place  the  reflections  which 
naturally  arise  from  what  I  have  already  related,  and 
what  still  remains  for  me  to  say  upon  the  government 
of  Athens. 

SECTION.    VII.— OF  TRIALS 

THERE  were  different  tribunals,  according  to  the 
different  nature  of  the  affairs  to  be  adjudged,  but  ap- 
peals might  be  brought  to  the  people  from  all  de- 
crees of  the  other  judges,  and  this  it  was  that  ren- 
dered their  power  so  great  and  considerable.  AH 
the  allies,  when  they  had  any  cause  to  try,  were  oblig- 
ed to  repair  to  Athens,1  where  they  often  remained  a 
considerable  time  without  being  able  to  obtain  au- 
dience, from  the  multiplicity  of  affairs  to  be  adjudg- 
ed. This  law  had  been  imposed  upon  them,  in  or- 
der to  render  them  more  dependent  upon  the  people, 
and  more  submissive  to  their  authority;  instead  of 
which,  had  they  sent  commissioners  upon  the  spot, 
they  would  have  been  the  sole  persons  to  whom  the 
allies  would  have  made  their  court  and  paid  their 
homage. 

The  parties  pleaded  their  cause  either  in  person 
or  employed  advocates  to  do  it  for  them.  The  time 
allowed  for  the  hearing  was  generally  fixed,  and  a 
water-clock,  called  in  CTreek  xit^vStm,  regulated  its 
duration.  The  decree  was  passed  by  plurality  of 
voices;  and  when  the  sufl'rages  were  equal,  the  jud- 
ges inclined  to  the  side  of  mercy,  and  acquitted  the 
accused.  It  in  remarkable  that  a  friend  was  not  obli- 
ged to  give  evidence  against  a  friend. 

All  the  citizens,  even  the  poorest,  and  such  as  had 
no  estates,  were  admitted  into  the  number  of  the 
judges,  provided  they  had  attained  the  age  of  thirty, 
and  were  known  to  be  persons  of  good  morals. 
Whilst  they  sat  in  judgment,  they  held  in  their  hand* 
a  kind  of  sceptre,  which  was  a  mark  of  their  dignity, 
and  laid  it  down  when  they  withdrew. 

The  judges'  salary  was  different  at  different  times. 
They  had  at  first  only  an  obolus  a  day,  and  after- 
wards three,  at  which  their  fee  remained  fixed,  it 
was  but  a  small  matter  in  itself,  but  became  in  time 
a  very  great  charge  to  the  public,  and  exhausted  the 
treasury  without  much  enriching  individuals.  We 
may  judge  of  this  from  what  is  related  in  Aristopha- 
nes'* comedy  of  The  Jf'atps,  « herein  the  poet 
ridicules  the  fondness  of  the  Athenians  for  trying, 
causes,  and  their  eager  desire  for  the  gain  arising 
from  it,  which  protracted  and  multiplied  suits  with- 
out end. 

In  this  comedy,  a  young  Athenian  who  was  to  act 
the  parti  have  mentioned,  of  turning  the  judges  and 
trials  of  Athens"  into  ridicule,  from  a  computation 
which  he  makes  of  the  revenues  paid  into  the  public 
treasury,  finds  their  amount  to  be  2000  talents.2  He 
then  examines  how  much  of  that  sum  falls  to  the 
share  of  the  6000  judges,  with  whom  Athens  wai 
overrun,  at  three  oboli  a  head  per  day.  This  ap|>ear§ 
to  be  annually,  including  all  of  them,  only  150  ta- 
lents.8 The  calculation  is  easy  The  judges  werfe 
paid  only  ten  months  in  the  year,  the  other  two  being 
employed  in  festivals,  when  all  proceedings  at  law 
were  prohibited.  IVow  three  oboli  a  day  paid  to 
6000  men,  makes  fifteen  talents  a  month,  and  conse 
qnently  150  in  ten  months.  According  to  this  calcu- 
lation, the  most  assiduous  judge  gained  only  seventy* 
five  livres  (about  three  guineas)  a  year.  "  What 
then  becomes  of  the  remainder  of  the"2000  talems?  ' 
cries  the  young  Athenian. — "  What?"  replies  tn-  la- 
ther, who  was  one  of  the  judges,  "  it  goe>  to  those 
•but  let  at  not  expose  the  shame  of  Athens: 


let  us  always  be  for  the  people."  The  young  Athe- 
nian goes  on  to  insinuate  that  the  remainder  went  to 
such  as  robbed  the  public  treasury;  to  the  orators, 
who  incessantly  flattered  the  people,  and  to  thos« 


•  Xcnoph.  de  Rep.  Athcn.  p.  CM- 

•  About  2cO,000/.  sterling.          •  About  "OOOt  sterling. 


400 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


who  were  employtd  in  the  government  and  army.  I 
have  extracted  this  remaA  From  the  works  of  Father 
Brumoi  the  Jesuit,  of  which  I  have  already  made 
much  use,  where  I  have  spoken  of  the  public  shows 
and  dramatic  representations. 

SECTION   VIII.— OF  THE  AMPHICTYONS. 

THE  famous  council  of  the  Amphictyons  is  intro- 
duced here,  though  it  was  not  peculiar  to  the  Athe- 
nians, but  common  to  all  Greece,  because  it  is  often 
mentioned  in  the  Grecian  history,  and  1  do  not  know 
whether  1  shall  have  a  more  natural  occasion  to  in- 
troduce it. 

The  assembly  of  the  Amphictyons  was  in  a  manner 
the  holding'  of  a  general  assembly  of  the  states  of 
Circece.  The  establishment  of  it  is  attributed  to 
Amphictyon,  king  of  Athens,  and  son  of  Deucalion, 
who  gave  it  his  name.  His  principal  view  in  the  in- 
stitution of  this  council,  was  to  unite  in  the  sacred 
band  of  amity  the  several  people  of  Greece  admitted 
into  it,  and  to  oblige  them  by  that  union  to  undertake 
the  defence  of  each  other,  and  be  mutually  vigilant 
for  the  happii-.ess  and  tranquillity  of  their  country. 
The  Amphictyons  were  also  created  to  be  protectors 
of  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  and  the  guardians  of  the  pro- 
digi  J.js  riches  of  that  temple,  and  also  to  adjudge  the 
differences  which  might  arise  between  the  Delphians 
and  those  who  came  to  consult  the  oracle.  This 
council  was  held  at  Thermopylae,  and  sometimes  at 
Delphi  itself.  It  assembled  regularly  twice  a  year; 
in  the  spring  and  autumn,  and  more  frequently  when 
alriirs  required. 

The  number  of  people  or  cities  which  had  a  right 
to  sit  in  this  assembly  is  not  precisely  known,  and 
varied,  without  doubt,  at  different  times.  When  the 
Lacedemonians,  in  order  to  secure  to  themselves 
alone  an  influence  over  the  decrees  of  this  council, 
were  desirous  of  excluding  the  Thessalians,  Argives, 
and  Thebans;  Themistocies,1  in  the  speech  he  made 
to  the  Amphictyons  to  prevent  that  design  from  tak- 
ing effect,  seems  to  insinuate  that  there  were  only 
one-and-thirty  cities  at  that  time  which  had  this  right. 

Eacli  city  sent  two  deputies,  and  consequently,  had 
two  votes  In  the  council;  and  that  without  distinc- 
tion, or  the  more  powerful  having  any  prerogative  of 
honour  or  pre-eminence  over  inferior  states  in  regard 
to  the  suffrages;  the  liberty  upon  which  these  nations 
valued  themselves,  requiring  that  every  thing  should 
be  equal  amongst  them. 

The  Amphirtyons  had  full  power  to  discuss  and 
determine  finally  in  all  differences  which  might  arise 
•between  the  Amphictvonic  cities,  and  to  fine  the  cul- 
pable in  heavy  penalties.  They  could  employ  not 
only  the  rigour  of  the  laws  in  the  execution  of  their 
decrees,  but  even  raise  troops,  if  it  were  necessary,  to 
compel  such  as  rebelled  to  submit  to  them.  The 
three  sacred  wars  undertaken  by  their  order,  of  which 
I  have  spoken  elsewhere,  are  an  evident  proof  of  this 
power. 

Before  they  were  installed  into  this  body,  they  took 
a  very  remarkable  oath,  of  which  jEschines*  has  pre- 
served the  form;  its  runs  to  this  effect:  "I  swear 
that  I  will  never  destroy  any  of  the  cities  honoured 
with  the  right  of  sitting  in  the  Amphictvonic  coun- 
cil, nor  turn  their  running  waters  out  of  their  course 
either  in  times  of  war  or  peace.  If  any  people  shall 
make  such  an  attempt,  I  hereby  engage  to  curry  the 
war  into  their  country,  to  demolish  their  cities, 
towns,  and  villages,  and  to  treat  them  in  every  re- 
spect as  the  most  cruel  enemies.  Moreover,  if  at 
any  time  any  person  shall  dare  to  be  so  impious  as  to 
steal  and  take  away  any  of  the  rich  offerings  pre- 
served in  the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  or  abet 
any  others  in  committing  that  crime,  either  by  aiding 
or  only  counselling  him  therein,  I  will  use  my  feet, 
hand!",  voice;  in  a  word,  nil  my  powers  and  faculties, 
to  avenge  such  sacrilege."  That  oath  was  attended 
witli  the  most  terrible  imprecations  and  execrations: 
"That  if  any  one  infringe*  any  thing  contained  in  the 
r>ath  1  have  now  taken,  whether  private  person,  city. 


1'lul.  in  Tin-mint,  |>.  1?3. 
D. in  OraU  •••,>  m 


or  people,  may  that  person,  city,  or  people,  be  deenv 
ed  accursed;  and,  as  such,  experience  the  whole  ven- 
geance of  Apollo,  Latona.  Diana,  and  Minerva  the 
fore-knower.  May  their  country  produce  none  of 
the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  their  women,  instead  ot 
generating  children  resembling  their  lather?,  bring 
forth  nothing  but  monsters;  and  may  their  aniimiN 
share  in  the  tame  curse.  May  those  •.acnlt  giou*  men 
lose  all  their  «uits  at  law;  may  they  he  conquered  in 
war,  have  their  houses  demolished,  and  be  themselves: 
and  their  children  put  to  the  sword."  I  am  nol 
astonished  that  after  such  terrible  engagements,  th« 
holy  war,  undertaken  by  the  order  of  the  Amphictyons, 
should  be  carried  on  with  so  much  rancour  and  fury. 
The  religion  of  an  oath  was  of  great  force  with  the 
ancients;  and  how  much  more  regard  ought  to  be  had 
to  it  in  the  Christian  world,  which  professes  to  be- 
lieve that  the  violation  of  it  shall  be  punished  with 
eternal  torments;  and  yet  how  many  are  there  amongst 
us  who  make  a  jest  of  breaking  through  the  most  so- 
lemn oaths? 

The  authority  of  the  Amphictyons  had  always  been 
of  great  weight  in  Greece,  but  it  began  to  decline 
exceedingly  from  the  moment  they  condescended  to 
admit  Philip  of  Macedon  into  their  body.  For  thht 
prince,  enjoying  by  this  means  all  their  rights  and. 
privileges,  soon  knew  how  to  set  himself  above  all 
law.  and  to  abuse  his  power  so  far  as  to  preside  by 
proxy  both  in  this  illustrious  assembly  and  in  the 
Pythian  games;  of  which  games  the  Amphictyoni 
were  judges  and  agonothetse  in  virtue  of  their  office. 
With  this  Demosthenes  reproaches  him  in  his  third 
Philippic1  "When  he  does  not  deign,"  says  he,  "to 
honour  us  with  his  presence,  he  sends  his  slaves  to 
preside  over  us."  An  odious  but  emphatical  term, 
and  highly  characteristic  of  Grecian  liberty,  by  which 
the  Athenian  orator  designates  the  base  and  abject 
subjection  of  the  greatest  lords  in  Philip's  court. 

If  the  Deader  desires  a  more  intimate  knowledge 
of  what  relates  to  the  Amphictyons,  the  dissertations 
of  Monsieur  Valois  may  be  consulted,  in  the  Mt  moirs 
of  the  Academy  of  Belles  Lettres,'  wherein  this  sub- 
ject is  treated  with  great  extent  and  erudition. 

SECTION  IX.— OF  THE  REVENUES  OF  ATHEKS. 

THE  revenues,  according  to  the  passage  of  Aristo 
phaues,*  which  I  have  cited  above,  and  consequently 
as  they  stood  in  the  time  of  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
amounted  to  2000  talents;  that  is  to  say,  to  6,000,000 
of  livres.  They  are  generally  classed  under  four 
heads. 

1.  The  first  relates  to  the  revenues  arising  from 
agriculture,  the  sale  of  woods,  the   produce  of  the 
silver  mines,  and  other  funiis  ot  a  like  nature,  apper- 
taining to  the  public.     Amongst  these  may  be  inclu- 
ded the  duties  upon  the  import  and  export  of  mer- 
chandise, and  the  taxes  levied  upon  the  inhabitants 
of  the  city,  as  well  natives  as  strangers. 

In  the  history  of  Athens  mention  is  often  made  of 
the  silver  mines  of  I, annum,  which  was  a  mountain 
situate  between  the  Pineeus  and  Cape  Sunium,  and 
those  of  Thrace,  from  whence  many  persons  drew 
immense  riches.  Xenophon,5  in  a  treatise  wherein 
he  considers  this  subject  at  large,  dfnionstiates  ho\r 
much  the  public  might  gain  by  industriously  working 
these  mines,  from  the  example  of  many  individual* 
who  had  been  enriched  by  them.  Hipponicus*  let 
his  mines  and  600  slaves  to  an  undertaker,  who  paid 
him  an  obolus7  a  day  for  each  slave,  clear  of  all 
charges,  which  amounted  to  a  mina  per  day,  about 
"21.  St.  Nicias,  who  was  killed  in  Sicily,  farmed  out 
his  mines  and  1000  slaves  in  the  same  manner,  and 
with  th»  same  profit  in  proportion  to  that  number. 

2.  The  second  species  of  revenue  were  the  contri- 
butions  paid    to  the  Athenians  by  the   allies  for  the 
common  expenses  of  the,  war.  At  first,  under  Aristides 
they  amounted   to  only  4t!0  talents.8     Pericles  aug- 
mented them  almost  n  third,  and  raised  them  to  600, 
Hud  -.(line  time  after  they  were  run  up  to  1300.   Taxes, 


•  Vol.  iii.  •  fix.*. 

1  De  ration,  redituum.  •  Pn;re '>25. 

1  Six  oboli  made  a  drnrhma,  100  ilrachmi*  a  mina  and  GO 
aim*  •  talent.  •  A  talent  wan  worth  lOuO  crown*. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


407 


which  IL  tlic  beginning;  were  moderate  and  necessary, 
became  thus  in  a  little  time  excessive  and  exorbitant, 
notwithstanding  all  the  protestations  to  the  contrary 
made  to  the  allies,  and  the  most  solemn  engagement* 
entered  into  with  them. 

3.  A  third  sort  of  revenue  were  the  extraordinary 
capitation  taxes,  levied   upon  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country,  as  well  natives  as  strangers,  in  pressing  oc- 
casions and  emergencies  of  the  state. 

4.  The  fines  laid  upon  persons  by  the  judges  for 
different    misdemeanours,  were  applied   to  the  u-es 
of  the  public,  and  laid  up  in  the  treasury,  with  the 
exception  of  the  tenth  part  of  them,  which  was  conse- 
crated to  Minerva,  «nd  a  fiftieth  to  the  other  divinities. 

The  most  natural  and  legitimate  application  of 
these  different  revenues  of  the  republic,  was  in  pay- 
ing the  troops  both  by  sea  and  land,  building  and 
fitting  out  fleets,  keeping  up  and  repairing  the  public 
buildings,  temples,  walls,  ports,  and  citadels.  But 
the  greatest  part  of  them,  especially  after  Pericles'* 
time,  was  misapplied  to  unnecessary  uses,  and  often 
consumed  in  frivolous  expenses;  games,  feasts  and 
•hows,  which  cost  immense  sufhs,  and  were  of  no 
manner  of  utility  to  the  state. 

SECTION  X. — OF  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  YOUTH. 

I  PLACE  this  article  under  the  head  of  government, 
because  all  the  most  celebrated  legislators  have  with 
reason  btlieved  that  the  education  of  youth  was  an 
essential  part  of  it. 

The  exercise  that  served  to  form  either  the  bodies 
or  minds  of  the  young  Athenians  (and  as  much  may 
be  said  of  almost  all  the  people  of  Greece.)  were 
dancing,  music,  hunting,  fencing,  riding,  polite  lear- 
ning, and  philosophy.  It  is  clear,  that  I  only  skim 
over,  and  treat  very  slightly,  these  several  articles. 

1.  Dancing.    Jlltitic. 

Dancing  is  one  of  those  bodilv  exercises  which 
was  cultivated  by  the  Greeks  witfi  great  attention. 
It  made  a  part  of  what  the  ancients  called  the  Gym- 
Kastic,  divided,  according  to  Plato.1  into  two  kinds, 
the  Orchestic,  which  takes  its  name  from  dancing, 
and  the  Palttitric*  so  called  from  a  Greek  word 
which  signifies  wrestling.  The  exercises  of  the  lat- 
ter kind  principally  conduced  to  fonn  the  body  for 
the  fatigues  of  war,  navigation,  agriculture,  and  the 
other  uses  of  society. 

Dancing  had  another  end,  and  taught  such  rules 
of  motiu::  as  were  most  proper  to  render  the  shajie 
free  and  easy;  to  give  the  body  a  just  proportion, 'and 
the  whole  person  an  unconstrained,  noble,  and  grace- 
ful air,  in  a  word,  an  external  politeness,  if  we  may 
be  allowed  to  use  that  expression,  which  never  fails 
to  prepossess  people  in  favour  of  those  who  have  been 
formed  to  it  early. 

Music  was  cultivated  with  no  less  application  and 
success.  The  ancients  ascribed  wonderful  effects  to 
it.  They  believed  it  well  calculated  to  calm  the 
passions,  soften  the  manners,  and  even  humanize  na- 
tions naturally  savage  and  barbarous.  Polybius,8  a 
grave  and  serious  historian,  who  is  certainly  worthy 
of  belief,  attributes  the  extreme  difference  between 
two  nations  of  Arcadia,  the  one  infinitely  beloved  and 
esteemed  for  the  elegance  of  their  manners,  their  bene- 
volent in<  linations,  humanity  to  strangers,  and  piety 
to  the  gods;  the  other,  on"  the  contrary,  generally 
reproached  and  hated  for  their  malignity,  brutality, 
and  irreligion:  Polybiu«,  I  say,  ascribes  this  diriVr- 
ence  to  the  study  of"  music  (I  mean,  savs  he,  the  true 
•nd  genuine  mii-ir.)  industriously  cultivated  by  the 
•ue,  and  absolutely  neglected  by  the  other  nation. 

After  this  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Greeks  should 
have  considered  music  as  an  essential  part  in  the  edu- 
cation of  youth.  Socrates  himself,*  at  a  very  advanced 
•ge,  was  not  ashamed  of  learning  to  play  upon  musical 
instrument* — Tliemistorles  however  otherwise  es- 
te<  med,  was  thought  deficient  in  polite  accomplish- 


i  tr>;%. '-:=",  ealtare.  »  nix*. 

•  P.ilvh.  I.  iv.  p.*>f»— 291. 

•  Sorraici,  J*IQ   (eoez,  institnti   Ijrri  non  erubeicebat. 
fi*tnlit  I.  i.  e.  1U. 


nients,6  because  at  in  entertainment  he  could  uol 
touch  the  l\re  like  the  rest  of  the  company.  Igno- 
rance in  this  respect  was  deemed  a  delect  of  educa- 
tion;* on  the  contrary,  skill  did  honour  to  the  great- 
est men.  Epaiuinondas  was  praised  lor  dancing  and 
plaving  well  upon  the  flute.'  AVe  may  obseive  m 
this  place  the  different  tastes  and  genius  ol  nation*. 
The  Romans  were  far  from  hating  the  same  opinion 
with  the  Greeks  in  regard  to  music  and  dancing,  hud 
ret  no  value  upon  them.  It  is  very  likely  that  the 
>vistst  and  most  sensible  amongst  the.  latter  dici  .lot 
apply  to  them  with  any  great  industry;  and  Philip'* 
expression  to  his  son  Alexander,  who  bad  shown  ton 
much  skill  in  music  at  a  feast,  induces  me  to  be  of 
this  opinion:  Are  you  not  athamed,  said  he,  to  ting 
so  well? 

In  other  respects,  there  were  some  grounds  for  this 
esteem  tor  dancing  and  music.  Both  the  one  a.id  the 
other  were  employed  in  the  most  august  it  u-ta  ana 
ceremonies  of  religion,  to  express  with  greater  force 
and  dignity  their  acknowledgment  to  the  gods  for 
the  favours  they  had  vouchsafed  to  confer  upon  them. 
They  formed  generally  the  greatest  and  most  agree- 
able part  of  their  feasts  and  entertainments,  uhich 
seldom  or  never  began  or  ended  without  some  cdc» 
being  sung,  like  those  in  honour  of  the  victors  in  the 
Olympic  games,  and  on  other  similar  subjects.  They 
had  a  part  also  in  war;  and  we  know  that  the  Lace- 
daemonians marched  to  battle  dancing,  and  to  the 
sound  of  flutes.  Plato,*  the  most  grave  philosopher 
of  antiquity,  considered  both  these  arts  not  as  simpla 
amusements,  but  as  having  a  great  share  in  the  cere- 
monies of  religion  and  military  exercises.  Hence  we 
see  him  very  intent,  in  his  books  of  laws,  to  prescribe 
judicious  regulations  with  respect  to  dancing  and 
music,  in  order  to  keep  them  within  the  bounds  of 
utility  and  decorum. 

They  did  not  continue  long  within  these  restric- 
tions'. The  licentiousness  of  the  Grecian  stage,  oo 
which  dancing  was  in  the  highest  vogue,  and  in  a 
manner  prostituted  to  buffoons  and  the  most  con- 
temptible people,  who  made  no  other  use  of  it  than 
to  awaken  or  cherish  the  most  vicious  passions;  this 
licentiousness,  I  say,  soon  corrupted  an  art  which 
miiiht  have  been  ol  some  advantage,  had  it  been  re- 
gulated by  Plato'*  opinion.  Music  had  a  like  des- 
tiny; and  perhaps  the  corruption  of  this  did  not* 
little  contribute  to  the  depraving  and  perverting  of 
dancing.  Voluptuousness  and  sensual  pleasure  were 
the  nole  arbiters  consulted  a*  to  the  use  which  was  to 
be  made  of  both,  and  the  theatre  became  a  school  of 
every  kind  of  vice. 

Plutarch,' in  lamenting  that  the  art  of  dancing  was 
much  fallen  from  the  merit  which  rendered  it  so  es- 
timable  to  the  great  men  of  antiquity,  does  not  omit 
to  observe,  that  it  was  corrupted  bv  a  vicious  kind  of 
poetrv,  and  a  soft  effeminate  music,  with  which  it  had 
formed  an  injudicious  union,  and  which  had  taken 
place  of  that  ancient  poetry  and  music,  which  had 
something  noble,  majestic,  and  even  religious  and 
heavenly  in  them.  He  adds,  that  being  made  subser- 
vient to  voluptuousness  and  sensuality,  it  exercised 
bv  their  aid,  a  kind  of  tyrannical  power  in  the  thea- 
tres, which  were  become  the  public  schools  of  crimi- 
nal passions  and  gross  vices,  wherein  no  regard  was 
paid  to  reason. 

The  reader,  without  my  reminding  him,  will  make 
the  application  of  this  passage  of  Plutarch  to  that 
sort  of  music  with  which  our  theatres  rt  sound  at  this 
dav,  and  which,  by  its  effeminate  and  wanton  airs, 
has  given  the  last  wound  to  the  little  manly  force  and 
virtue  that  remained  among  us.  Quintilian  describes 


•  Themiitocles,  rum  in  ppulis  reruMiset  Ijram,  hahitu 
est  indorlior.     Cit.  Tusc.  Quasi.  I.  i.  n.4. 

•  Sonimnm  cruditionem  (Jra'ci  siiam  cen»pbant  in  nervo- 
rum  vncumque  omnibus — discehantque  ill  omne»  ;  nee  qui 
nescit  hat,  catis   exrultui   ductrina    pulabatur.     Cic.  '1  Hit, 
Qua-sl  I.  i.  n  4. 

'  In  Epaminondst  virtutibuc  eomitwmoraium^ol caluue 
earn  commode.  iicH-nterqne  tibiii  caniaiue  —  S<-ilicvt  mm 
i-adcm  omniliut  honesla  font  atque  turpia,  prd  nmnia  mi  jo- 
rum institutis  judicantur.  Com.  JTtp.  i*  prrfal  til 
Epam 

»  De  k>*.  1.  rii.  •  Synpo*.  1.  in.  qu.  15.  ».  748. 


HISTORY   OF  THE 


the  music  of  his  times  in  these  terms:  Qua  nunc  in 
tctnis  tjfiminata,  et  tmpiulicis  mudis  fracla,  non  (x 
partt  mini  nut,  si  quiu  innuiiis  virilis  roboris  mane- 
bat,  excidil.1 

2.  Of  the  other  exercises  of  the  body. 

The  young  Athenians, and  in  general  all  the  Greeks, 
were  very  careful  to  form  themselves  in  all  the  exer- 
cises of  the  body,  and  to  take  lessons  regularly  from 
the  masters  of  the  Palrestrae.  They  called  the  places 
ullotted  for  these  exercises,  Palasstrae  or  Gymnasia; 
which  answers  very  near  to  our  academies.  Plato,  in 
his  books  of  laws,  after  having  shown  of  what  impor- 
tance it  was  with  a  view  to  war,  to  cultivate  strength 
and  agility  of  the  hands  and  feet,  adds,8  that  far  from 
banishing  iron)  a  well-regulated  republic  the  profes- 
sion of  the  Athletae,  on  the  contrary,  prizes  ought  to 
be  proposed  for  all  exercises  that  conduce  to  the  im- 
provement of  the  military  art:  such  are  those  which 
render  the  body  more  active  and  titter  for  the  race; 
more  hardy,  robust,  andi  supple;  more  capable  of 
supporting  great  fatigues,  and  effecting  great  enter- 
prises. We  must  remember,  that  there  was  no  Athe- 
nian who  ousjht  not  to  have  been  capable  of  handling 
tiie  oar  in  the  largest  gallejs.  The  citizens  them- 
selves performed  this  office,  which  was  not  lelt  to 
slaves  and  criminals,  as  in  these  days.  They  were  all 
destined  to  the  trade  of  war,  and  often  obliged  to 
wear  armour  of  iron  from  head  to  foot  of  a  great 
weight.  For  this  reason,  Piato,  and  all  the  ancients, 
looked  upon  the  exercises  of  the  body  as  highly  use- 
ful, and  even  absolutely  necessary  to  the  good  of  the 
public,  and  therefore  this  philosopher  excludes  only 
those  which  were  of  no  service  in  war. 

There  were  also  masters  who  taught  the  youth  to 
ride-,8  and  to  handle  their  arms,  or  fence;  and  others 
whose  business  it  was  to  instruct  them  in  all  that  was 
necessary  to  he  known,  in  order  to  excel  in  the  art 
militarv,  and  to  become  good  commanders.  The 
whole  science  of  the  latter  consisted  in  what  the  an- 
cients called  Tactics,  that  is  to  say,  the  art  of  drawing 
up  troops  in  battle,  and  of  making  military  evolution*. 
That  se-ience  was  useful,  but  it  was  not  sufficient. 
XenorJhon4  shows  its  insufficiency,  by  producing  a 
\oung  man  lately  come  from  such  a  school,  in  which 
he  imagined  he  had  learnt  every  thing,  though  in 
reality  he  had  only  acquired  a  foolish  esteem  for  him- 
self, attended  with  perfect  ignorance.  He  gives  him, 
by  the  mouth  of  Socrates,  admirable  precepts  as  to 
the  business  of  a  soldier,  a-id  well  calculated  to  form 
an  excellent  officer. 

Hunting  was  also  considered  by  the  ancients  as  an 
exercise  well  calculated  for  forming  youth  to  the  stra- 
tagems and  fatigues  of  war.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
Xenophon,  who  was  no  less  a  great  general  than  a 
great  philosopher,  did  not  think  it  below  him  to  write 
a  treatise  expressly  upon  hunting,*  in  which  he  de- 
scends to  the  minutest  particulars;  and  points  out  the 
considerable  a  (vantages  that  may  be  derived  from  it, 
trom  being  inured  to  suffer  hunger,  thirst,  heat,  cold, 
without  being:  discouraged  either  by  the  length  of  the 
course,  the  difficulty  of  the  clifts  and  thickets  through 
which  it  is  often  necessary  to  press,  or  the  small  suc- 
cess of  the  long  and  painful  fatigues  which  are  often 
undergone  to  no  purpose.  He  add*,  that  this  inno- 
cent pleasure  removes  others  equally  shameful  and 
criminal;  and  that  a  wise  and  moderate  man  would 
not,  however,  abandon  himself  to  much  to  it  us  to 
neglect  the  care  of  hi«  domestic  affairs.  The  same 
author,6  ir.  the  Cyropaedia,  frequently  praises  hunt- 
ing, which  he  looks  upon  aa  a  real  study  of  the  art 
of  war;  and  shows,  in  the  example  of  his  young  hero, 
the  good  use  that  may  be  made  of  it. 

3.  Of  the  Exercises  of  the  JV/iW. 
Athens,   properly   speaking,   was    the    school   and 
abode  of  polite   learning,  arts,  and   sciences.      The 
*tudy  of  poesy,  eloquence,  philosophy,  and  mathe- 


'  matics,  was  iu  great  vogue  there,  and  much  cultivated 

•  by  the  \  outh. 

The  young  people  were  first  sent  to  learn  grammar 
under  masters  who  taught  them  ngularly,  and  upon 
prop*  r  principles,  their  own  language;  In  which  tnejr 
attained  a  knowledge  of  its  whole  beauty,  e  nersry 
number,  and  cadence.  Hence  proceeded  that  line 
taste  which  universally  penaded  Athens.7  H lit  re,  ui 
history  informs  us, a  simple  herd-woman  distinguished, 
Thcophrastus  to  be  a  loreigner.  from  the  affectation 
of  a  single  word  in  expressing  himself.  And  from  the 
same  cause  the  orators  were  greatly  apprt  -ht-n-ixe  of 
letting  hi  1 1  the  least  injudicious  explosion,  fur  fear 
ol  attending  so  refined  iind  delicate  an  air.:  it  nee.  It 
was  very  common  for  the  young  people  to  get  the 
tragedies  represented  upon  the  stage  b\  heart.  W  • 
have  seen,  that  alter  the  defeat  of  the  Athenian.-  be- 
tore  Syracuse,  many  of  tin  in,  who  had  been  taken 
prisoners  and  made  -hive?,  softened  the  ir  cbrerj  by 
reciting  the  works  of  Kuripides  to  their  masters,  who, 
extremely  delighted  with  Luring  such  "ublimt-  verses, 

j  treated  them  from  henceforth  with  kindiie  —  ami  hu- 
manity. The  compositions  of  the  otht  r  poets  had  uo 
doubt  the  same  t  flirt:  and  Plutarch  tells  u«,  that 
Alcibiadts,  when  very  young,  hav  ing  entered  a  school 
in  which  there  was  not  ;-.  Homer,  «;a\e  the  ma»t<  r  a 
box  on  the  ear  as  an  ignorant  ft  How,  and  one  u!;o 
dishonoured  his  profession.* 

As  for  eloquence,  it  is  no  wonder  that  it  was  par- 
ticularly studied  at  Athens.  It  was  that  which  open- 
ed the  way  to  the  highest  offices.  rei»»ied  absolute  in 
the  assemblies,  decided  the  most  importai.l  afiairs  of 
the  state, and  gave  an  almost  unlimited  pt>v\  er  to  those 
who  had  the  talent  of  oratory  in  an  ewiint  nt  degree. 
This  therefore  was  the  gnat  employment  of  thf 
young  citizens  of  Alhe-n-,  e-speci.tlly  of  those  who 
aspired  to  the  highest  offices.  To  the  stin'v  of  rhe- 
toric, they  annexed  that  of  philosophy.  I  compris* 
under  the  tatter  all  the  sciences  which  are  either 
parts  of,  or  relate  to,  it  The  persons  known  to  an* 
tiquity  under  the  name  of  Sophists  had  acquired  * 

great  reputation  at  Athens,  especially  iu  the  tune  ol 
Socrates.  These  teachers,  who  were  as  pre>i:mptu* 
oils  as  avaricious,  set  themselves  up  for  un'urrsa. 

scholars.  Their  chief  strength  lay  in  philosophy  ano 
eloquence,  both  of  which  they  corrupted  l>y  the  fal-e 
taste  and  wrong  principles  which  they  instilled  into 
their  disciples.  1  have  observed,  in  the  life  of  So- 
crates, that  philosopher's  endeavours  and  juivi.~>  in 
discrediting  them. 


t  a-iiniil.  I.  i.  c.  10.  •  Lib.  viii.  de  leg.  p.  832,  833 

•  Plat   in  Laohele,  p.  181. 

•  Memnruli  I.  iii  |>.  701.  &.<-..  •  De  rcnaliune. 
Cyrop.  I.  i.  p.  o,  0,  auU  '.  ii.  p.  59,  CO. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  WAR. 

SECTION  I. —THE  NATIONS  OF  GREECE  IN  ALV 
TIMES  VERY  WARLIKE,  ESPECIALLY  THE  LACE 
D.CMO.M.4NS  AND  ATHENIANS 

Xo  people  of  antiquity  (F  except  the  Roman*)  ran 
dispute  the  glory  of  arms  and  militarv  virtue-  with  the 
Greek*.  During  the  Trojan  wur  Gree«-e  signalized 
her  valour  in  battle,  and  acquired  iittmottal  fau)  )>f 
the  bravery  of  the  captains  she  sent  thither.  This 
expedition  was  however,  properly  speaking,  no  more 
than  the  cradle  of  her  infant  glory;  and  the  great 
exploits  by  which  she  distinguished  herself  there, 
were  only  her  first  essays  and  apprenticeship  in  the 
art  of  war. 

There  were  in  Greece  several  «mall  republics, 
neighbours  to  one  another  by  their  situation  nut 
widely  distant  in  their  custom*,  laws,  ch-i'-;  •• 
particularly  in  their  interest*.  This  liiriVrenre  ol 
manners  and  interests  was  a  continual  source  and  oc- 
casion of  divisions  amongst  them.  Kvery  civ,  little 
satisfied  with  its  own  territory,  wa*  -tiimou-  t-<  ag- 
grandize itself  at  (he  expense  of  it*  next  neighbours, 
according  n«  they  lay  mo*t  conimot'i  >n«  'or  it.  Hence 
all  these  little  states,  either  out  of  an.bition,  and  to 


'  Cic.  in  Brut.  n.  17i     Quint.  1.  riii.r   1.     Pint,  in  Pi  n 
p.  1JO.  •  In  Alcik  p.  l'.M 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


409 


nttend  their  conquests,  or  ihe  necessity  of  a  just  de- 
fence,were  always  under  anus;  and  by  that  Continual 
exercise  of  war,  there  was  formed  throughout  the 
whole  of  these  nations  a  martial  spirit,  and  an  intre- 
pidity of  courage  which  made  them  invincible  in  the 
iii  Id :  as  appeared  in  the  s«qutl,  whin  the  whole 
unittd  Torres  of  the  Kast  came  to  invade  Greece,  and 
made  her  sensible  of  her  own  strength,  and  ol  what 
she  was  capable  of. 

Two  cities  distinguished  themselves  above  the  rest, 
and  held  indisputably  the  tii>t  rank;  these  were  Spar- 
ta and  Athens:  in  consequence  of  which  those  cities, 
either  succrssivt  ly  or  together,  had  the  empire  of 
Greece,  and  maintained  themselves  through  a  long 
series  of  tune  in  a  power  which  the  sole  superiority 
of  merit,  universally  acknowledged  by  all  the  other 
Males,  had  acquired  tin  m.  This  merit  consisted 
principally  in  their  military  knowledge  and  martial 
virtue;  of  which  both  of  them  had  given  the  most 
glorious  proofs  in  the  war  against  the  Persians. 
Thebes  disputed  this  honour  with  th  :m  for  some 
years,  by  surprising  actions  of  valour,  which  had 
something  of  prodigy  in  them:  but  this  was  buj  a 
short-lived  blaze,  which,  after  having  shone  out  \\ith 
exceeding  splendour,  soon  disappeared,  a'ld  left  that 
city  in  ils  original  obscurity.  Sparta  and  Athens 
will  therefore  be  the  onlv  objects  of  our  .-eflections, 
as  to  what  relates  to  war;  and  we  shall  join  them  to- 
gether, in  order  to  be  the  bi  tier  able  to  form  a  notion 
of  their  characters,  as  well  in  what  they  resemble,  as 
in  what  they  tinier  from  each  other. 

SECTION  II. — ORIGIN  AND  CAUSE  OF  THE  VALOUR 
AM)  MILITARY  VIRTUE  BY  WHICH  THE  LACEDE- 
MONIANS AND  ATHENIANS  ALWAYS  DISTINGUISH- 
ED THEMSELVES. 

ALL  the  laws  of  Sparta  and  all  the  institutions  of 
Lycurgiu  seem  to  have  had  no  other  object  than  war, 
and  tended  solely  to  the  making  the  subjects  of  that 
republic  a  body  of  soldiers.  All  other  employments, 
nil  other  exercises,  were  prohibited  amongst  them. 
Arts,  polite  learning,  sciences,  trades,  even  husbandry 
itM  If,  formed  no  part  of  their  employment,  and  seem- 
ed in  their  eyes  unworthy  of  them.  From  their  earli- 
est infancy  no  other  taste  was  instilled  into  them  but 
for  arms;  and  indeed  the  Spartan  education  was  won- 
derfully well  adapted  to  that  end.  To  go  barefoot, 
to  lie  on  the  bare  ground,  to  be  satisfied  with  little 
meat  and  drink,  to  sutler  heat  and  cold,  to  be  exer- 
cised continually  in  hunting,  wrestling,  running  on 
foot  and  horse-back,  to  be  inured  to  blows  and  wounds 
so  as  to  vent  neither  complaint  nor  groan;  these  were 
the  rudiments  of  education  of  the  Spartan  youth  with 
regard  to  war,  and  enabled  them  one  day  to  support 
all  its  fatigues,  and  to  confront  all  its  dangers. 

The  habit  of  obeying,  contracted  from  the  most 
early  years,  respect  for  the  magistrates  and  elders,  a 
perlect  submission  to  the  laws,  from  which  no  age 
nor  condition  was  exempt,  prepared  them  amazingly 
for  military  discipline,  which  is  in  a  manner  the  soul 
of  war,  and  the  principle  of  success  in  all  great  en- 
terprises. 

Now  one  of  these  laws  was  to  conquer  or  die,  and 
never  to  surrender  to  the  enemy.  Leonidaa  with  his 
300  Spartans  was  an  illustrious  example  of  this;  and 
his  intrepid  valour,  extolled  in  all  ages  with  the 
oighest  applauses,  and  proposed  as  a  model  to  all  pos- 
terity, had  given  the  same  spirit  to  the  nation,  and 
traced  them  out  the  plan  they  were  to  follow.  The 
disgrace  and  infamy  annexed  to  the  violation  of  this 
law,  and  to  such  as  quitted  their  arms  in  battle,  con- 
Armed  the  observance  of  it,  and  rendered  it  in  a  man- 
ner inviolable.  Th*  mothers  recommended  to  thefr 
sons,  when  thev  set  out  for  the  field,  to  return  either 
with  or  uj^in  their  bucklers.  Thf  y  did  not  weep  for 
those  who  died  with  arms  in  their  hands,  but  for 
those  who  preserved  themselves  hy  flight.  Can  we 
be  surprised,  after  this,  that  a  small  body  of  such  sol- 
diers, with  such  principle*,  should  put  to  a  stand  an 
innumerable  army  of  barbarians? 

The  Athenians  were  not  bred  up  so  roughly  as  the 
people  of  Sparta,  but  had  no  les«  valour.  The  taste 
of  the  two  nations  was  quite  different  in  regard  to 

Vol..  I. -52 


education  and  employment;  but  they  attained  inf. 
same  end,  though  by  uitierent  means.  The  Spartans 
knew  only  how  to  use  their  arms,  and  were  soldier* 
alone:  but  amongst  the  Athenians  (and  we  must  say 
as  much  of  the  other  pecple  of  Greece)  arts,  trades, 
husbandry,  commerce,  and  navigation,  wire  held  in 
honour,  and  thought  no  disgrace  to  any  one.  These 
occupations  were  no  obstacles  to  military  skill  and 
valour;  they  disqualified  none  for  rising  to  the  great- 
est commands  and  the  first  dignities  of  the  republic. 
Plutarch  observes,  that  Solon,  seeing  the  territory  of 
Attica  was  barren,  applied  himself  to  direct  the  in- 
dustry ol  his  citizei)<>  towards  arts,  trades,  and  com- 
merce, in  order  to  supply  his  country  then  by  with 
what  it  wanted  on  the  tide  of  fertility.  This  la-te 
became  one  of  the  maxims  of  the  government  and 
fundamental  laws  ol  *!u  »'»le,  and  perpetuated  itself 
amongst  the  penplr.  out  «  Utiout  lessening  in  the  least 
their  ardour  fur  war. 

The  ancient  giorj-  of  the  nation,  which  had  always 
distinguished  itsil:  .ov  military  bravery, was  a  power- 
ful moti\e  for  not  degenerating  from  the  reputation 
of  their  ancestors.  The  famous  buttle  of  Marathon, 
wht  n  in  they  had  sustained  alone  the  shock  of  the 
barbarians,  and  gained  a  signal  victory  over  them, 
infinitely  heightened  their  couVage;  and  the  battle  of 
Salamis,  in  the  success  ol  which  they  had  the  great- 
est share,  raised  them  to  the  highest  pitch  of  glory, 
and  rendered  them  capable  of  the  greatest  enterprises. 

A  noble  emulation  not  to  give  place  in  merit  to 
Sparta,  the  rival  of  Athens,  and  a  keen  jealousy  ol' 
tlitir  glory,  which  during  the  war  with  the  Persians 
contained  itself  within  due  bounds,  were  another 
strong  incentive  to  the  Athenians,  who  every  tiny 
made  new  eliorts  to  excel  themselves,  and  sustain 
their  reputation. 

The  rewards  and  honours  granted  to  those  who 
had  distinguished  themselves  in  battle:  the  monu- 
ments erected  in  memory  of  the  citizens  who  had 
died  in  the  defence  of  their  country;  the  funeral 
orations  publicly  pronounced  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  august  religions  ceremonies,  to  render  their 
names  immortal: — all  conspired  in  the  highest  de- 
gree to  eternize  the  valour  of  the  Athenians  particu- 
larly, and  to  make  fortitude  a  kind  of  law  and  indis- 
pensable necessity  to  them. 

Athens  had  a  law  by  which  it  was  ordained,1  that 
those  who  had  been  maimed  in  war  should  be  main- 
tained at  the  expense  of  the  public.  The  same*  fa- 
vour was  grunted  to  the  fathers,  and  mothers,  as  wi  II 
as  to  the  children  of  such  as  had  fallen  in  battle,  and 
left  their  families  poor  and  not  in  a  condition  to  sup- 
port themselves.  The  republic,  like  a  gooil  mother, 
generously  took  them  into  her  care,  and  fulfilled  to- 
wards them  all  the  duties  and  procured  them  all  the 
relief  that  they  could  have  expected  from  those 
whose  loss  they  deplored. 

This  exalted  the  courage  of  the  Athenians,  and 
rendered  their  troops  invincible,  though  not  very 
numerous.  In  the  battle  of  Plataea,  where  the  army 
of  the  barbarians,  commanded  by  Mardonius,  consis- 
ted at  the  least  of  300,000  men,  and  the  united  forces 
of  the  Greeks  of  only  108,200  men,  there  were  in 
the  latter  only  10,000  Lacedaemonians,  of  which  one 
half  were  Spartans,  that  is  to  say,  inhabitants  of 
Sparta,  and  8,000  Athenians.  It  is  true,  each  Spar- 
tan brought  with  him  seven  Helots,  which  made  in 
all  35.000  men;  but  they  were  scarce  ever  reckoned 
as  soldiers. 

This  shining  merit,  in  point  of  martial  valour,  ge- 
nerally acknowledged  by  the  other  states,  did  not 
suppress  in  their  minds  all  sentiments  of  envy  and 
jealousy;  as  appeared  once  in  relation  to  the  Lace- 
daemonians. The  allies,  who  were  very  much  supe- 
rior to  them  in  number,  could  with  difficulty  endure  to 
see  thf  mselvf-s  subjected  to  their  order.snd  murmur- 
ed against  it  in  secret.  Agesilau-.  king  of  Sparta, 
without  seeming  to  have  any  knowledge  of  their  dis- 
Uiift,  assembled  the  whole  army;  and  after  having 
made  all  the  allies  sit  down  on  one  side,  and  the 


«  Plot,  in  Sulon.  p.  96.    Plat,  in  Monex  p.  248,  249.    Dioj 
Ltterl.  in  Solon,  p.  37. 

2K 


410 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


applying  himself  whol- 
nd  the  science  of  war. 


Lacedaemonians  by  themselves  on  the  other,  he  caus- 
ed proclamation  to  be  made  by  a  herald,  that  all 
smiths,  masons,  carpenters,  (and  so  on,  through 
the  other  trades,)  should  rise  up.  Almost  all  the  al- 
lies did  so.  and  not  one  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  to 
whom  all  trades  were  prohibited.  Agesilans  then 
sinihnir,  "You  see,"  said  he,  "how  many  more  sol- 
diers Sparta  alone  furnishes  than  all  the  rest  of  the  al- 
lies together;"  thereby  intimating,  that  to  be  a  good 
soldier,  it  was  necessary  to  be  only  a  soldier;  that 
trade  diverted  the  artisan  from  a 
ly  to  the  profession  of  arms  a 
and  prevented  his  succeeding  so  well  in  it  as  those  who 
made  it  their  sole  business  and  exercise.  But  Ages- 
ilau*  -puke  and  acted  in  that  manner  from  his  preju- 
dice in  favour  of  the  Lacedaemonian  education;  for 
indeed  those  whom  he  wished  to  consider  only  ns 
liniple  artisans,  demonstrated  by  the  glorious  victo- 
ries they  obtained  over  the  Persians,  and  even  Sparta 
Uelf,  that  they  were  by  no  means  inferior  to  the 
Lacedaemonians,  entirely  soldiers  as  they  were,  either 
in  valour  or  military  knowledge. 

SECTION  III. — DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  TROOPS  OF 
WHICH  THE  ARMIES  OF  THE  I.ACED^MUMA.NS 
AND  ATHENIANS  W«RE  COMPOSED. 

THE  armies  both  of  Sparta  and  Athens  were  com- 
posed of  four  sorts  of  troops:  citizens,  allies,  merce- 
naries and  slaves.  The  soldiers  were  sometimes  mar- 
ked in  the  hand,  to  distinguish  them  from  the  slaves, 
who  had  that  character  impressed  upon  their  forehead. 
Interpreters  believe,  that  it  is  in  allusion  to  this  dou- 
ble manner  of  marking,  that  it  is  said  in  the  Revela- 
tion, that  all  were  obliged  "  to  receive  the  mark  of 
the  beast  in  the  right  hand,  or  in  their  foreheads;"1 
and  that  St.  Paul  says  of  himself,*  "  I  bear  in  my  bo- 
dy the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus." 

The  citizens  of  Lacedaemonia  were  of  two  sorts; 
either  those  who  inhabited  Sparta  itself,  and  who  for 
that  reason  were  called  Spartans,  or  those  who  lived 
in  the  country.  In  Lycurgus's  time  the  Spartans 
amounted  to  9000,  and  the  other?  to  30,000.  This 
number  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  diminished  in 
the  time  of  Xerxes,  as  Demaratus,  speaking  to  him 
of  the  Lacedaemonian  troops,  computes  only  8000 
Spartans.  The  latter  were  the  flower  of  the  nation; 
and  we  may  judge  of  the  value  they  set  upon  them,  In 
the  anxiety  the  republic  expressed  for  the  three  o'r 
four  hundred  besieged  by  the  Athenians  in  the  small 
island  of  Sphacteria,  where  they  were  taken  pris- 
oners. The  Lac<  dremonians  generally  spared  the 
troops  of  their  country  very  much,  and  sent  only  a 
few  of  them  into  the  armies;  but  even  these  few 
constituted  their  chief  strength.  When  a  Lacedae- 
monian general  was  asked,  how  many  Spartans  there 
were  in  the  army;  he  answered,  at  many  as  are 
necessary  to  repulse  the  enemy.  They  served  the 
state  at  their  own  ex|>ense.  and  it  was  not  till  after 
a  length  of  time  that  they  received  pay  from  the 
public. 

The  greatest  number  of  the  troops  in  the  two  repub- 
lics were  composed  of  the  Allies,  who  were  paid  bj 
the  cities  which  sent  them. 

The  foreign  troops,  who  were  paid  by  the  republic 
to  whose  aid  they  were  called  in,  were  styled  Merce- 
naries. 

The  Spartans  never  marched  without  Helots,  and 
we  have  seen  that  in  the  battle  of  Plalaea  every  citi- 
zen had  seven.  I  do  not  believe  that  this  number 
was  fixed,  nor  do  I  well  comprehend  for  what  ser- 
vice they  were  designed.  It  would  have  been  very 
bad  policy  to  have  put  arms  into  the  hands  of  so 
great  a  number  of  slaves,  generally  much  disconten- 
ted with  their  masters'  harsh  treatment  of  them, 
and  who  consequently  would  have  had  every  thing  to 
fear  from  them  in  a  battle.  Herodotus,  however,  in 
tlit-  p:is-a<r«'  i  have  cited  from  him,  represents  them 
Carr\  ing  arms  in  the  fiel'l  a*  light-armed  soHter*. 

The  infantry  consisted  of  two  kinds  of  soldiers. 
The  one  were  heavy  untied,  and  carried  great  buck- 
lers, lance*,  hnlf-pikes,  and  scimitars  and  of  these  the 


>  K«r.  (Hi  1C. 


»  Gal.  vi.  17. 


main  strength  of  the  army  consisted.  The  other  ivtii 
light  armed,  that  is  to  say,  with  bows  ami  slingg. 
They  were  commonly  place'd  in  the  front  of  the  Lit- 
tle, or  upon  the  wings  as  a  first  line,  to  fhoot  arrows, 
and  (ling  javelins  and  stones  at  the  ent  my  ;  and  when 
they  had  discharged,  they  retired  through  the  inter- 
vals behind  the  battalions  as  a  second  line,  and  con- 
tinued their  volleys. 

Thucydides,3  in  describing  the  battle  of  Mantinaea, 
divides  the  Lacedaemonian  troops  in  this  manner. 
There  were  seven  regiimnts  of  four  companies  each, 
without  including  the  Scirita?,  to  the  number  of  600; 
these  were  horsemen,  of  whom  I  shall  soon  speak 
farther.  The  company  consisted,  according  to  the 
Greek  interpreter,  of  128  men,  and  was  subdivided 
into  four  squadrons,  each  of  thirty-two  imn.  So  that 
a  regiment  amounted  to  512  men,  and  the  seven  made 
together  3584.  Each  squadron  had  four  men  in  front 
and  eight  in  depth,  for  tliHt  was  the  usubl  depth  of 
the  files,  which  the  officers  might  change  according 
as  circumstances  required. 

The  Lacedaemonians  did  not  actually  begin  to  use 
cavalry  till  after  the  war  with  .Messene,  where  they 
perceived  their  want  of  it.  They  raised  their  horse 
principally  in  a  small  city  not  far  from  Lacedsemon. 
called  Sciros,  from  whence  these  troops  were  de 
nominated  Sciritce.  They  were  always  on  the  ex 
tremity  of  the  left  wing,  and  this  was  thtir  post  by 
right. 

Cavalry  was  still  more  rare  amongst  the  Athenians: 
the  situation  of  Attica,  broken  with  abundance  of 
mountains,  was  the  cause  of  this.  It  did  not  amount, 
after  the  war  with  the  Persians,  which  was  the  time 
when  the  prosperity  of  Greece  was  at  the  highest,  to 
more  than  300  horse;  but  increased  afterwards  to 
1200;  a  very  small  body,  however,  for  so  powerful  a 
republic. 

1  have  already  observed,  that  amongst  the  ancients, 
as  well  Greeks  as  Romans,  no  mention  is  made  of  the 
stirrup,  which  is  very  surprising.  They  threw  them- 
selves nimbly  on  horseback: — 

Corpora  saltu 

Subjiciunt  inequos JEn.  I.  xii.  ver.  287 

And  with  a  leap  sit  steady  on  the  horse. 
Sometimes  the  horse,  trained  early  to  that  practice 
would  bend  his  forelegs  to  give  his  master  the  oppor- 
tunity of  mounting  with  more  ease; 

Inde  inclinalus  collum  pubmissus  ct  urn  o» 
De  more,  inflexis  pra>b<  bat  wandero  torpn 
Cruribus.— Sit.  Jtal.  lie  eguo  Caslii  F.qu.  Rom. 

Those  whom  age  or  weakness  rendtred  heavy 
made  use  of  a  servant  in  mounting  on  horseback;  in 
which  they  imitated  the  Persians,  with  whom  it  was 
the  common  custom.  Gracchus  caused  handsome 
stones  to  be  placed  on  each  side  of  the  great  roads  of 
Italy  at  certain  distances  from  one  another,  to  help 
travellers  to  get  on  horseback  without  the  assistance 
of  any  body.* 

I  am  surprised  that  the  Athenians,  expert  as  they 
were  in  the  art  of  war,  did  not  perceive  that  the 
caxalry  was  the  most  essential  part  of  an  army,  es- 
pecially in  battles;  and  that  some  of  their  gnierals 
did  not  turn  their  attention  that  way,  as  Themislocles 
did  towards  maritime  ati'airs.  Xenophon  was  well 
capable  of  rendering  them  a  simitar  service  in  respect 
to  the  cavalry,  of  the  importance  of  which  he  was 
perfectly  apprised.  He  wrote  two  treatises  upon 
this  subject;  one  of  which  regards  the  care  it  is  ne- 
ccssarv  to  take  of  horses,  and  how  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  them,  and  to  break  them;  whii  h  he 
treats  with  astonishing  minuteness:  and  the  other 
«i»es  instructions  for  training  and  exercising  the 
troopers  them«elves;  both  well  worth  the  reading  of 
all  who  profess  arms.  In  the  latter  he  states  the 
means  of  placing  the  cavalry  in  honour,  and  lays 
down  rules  upon  the  art  military  in  general,  which 
might  be  of  very  great  use  to  all  those  who  are  de» 
signed  for  the  profession  of  arms. 


s  Thuryd.  1.  v.  p.  3<iO. 

word  »vac!X» j-,  Mcmfici 
to  mount  on  ImrM-back. 


K.    Flfi  ir  (f'att  ,p.  ?3 
a  tervai  t  who  belped  ins 


This 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


411 


have  been  surprised,  in  running  over  this  second 
treatise,  to  gee  with  what  care  Xenophon,  a  soldier 
knd  :<  pagan,  reroniniends  the  practice  of  religion,  a 
veneration  for  the  gods,  and  the  necessity  of  implo- 
ring their  aid  upon  all  occasions.  He  repeats  this 
maxim  in  thirteen  different  pliires  ol'  a  tract  in  other 
respects  brief  enough;  and  rightly  judging  that  lh«se 
religious  insinuations  might  give  some  people  otit  nee, 
tie  makes  a  kind  of  apology  for  them,  and  concludes 
the  piece  with  a  reflection  which  1  shall  repeat  entire 
in  tliis  place.  "  If  any  one,"  says  he,  "wonders  tliht 
I  insist  so  much  here  upon  the  necessity  of  not  form- 
ing any  enterprise  without  first  endeavouring  to  ten- 
der the  Divinity  favourable  and  propitious,  let  him 
reflect,  that  there  are  in  war  a  thousand  unforesetn 
and  hazardous  conjunctures,  w  Inn  -in  the  generals, 
vigilant  to  take  advantages  and  lay  ambuscades  for 
each  other,  from  the  unctitainty  of  an  enemy's  mo- 
tions, can  take  no  other  counsel  than  that  of  the  gods. 
Nothing  is  doubtful  or  obscure  with  them.  They 
unfold  the  future  to  whomsoever  they  please,  by  the 
inspection  of  the  entrails  ol  beasts,  by  the  singing  of 
birds,  by  vision*,  or  in  dreams.  .Now  we  may  pre- 
sume, that  the  gods  are  more  inclined  to  illuminate 
the  minds  of  such  as  consult  them  not  only  in  urgent 
necessities,  but  who  at  all  times,  and  when  no  dan- 
gers threaten  them,  render  them  all  the  homage  and 
adoration  of  which  they  are  capable." 

It  was  worthy  of  this  great  man  to  give  the  most 
important  of  instructions  to  his  son  Gryllus,  to  whom 
he  addresses  the  treatise  we  mention,  and  who,  ac- 
cording to  the  common  opinion,  was  appointed  to 
discipline  the  Athenian  cavalry. 

SECTION  IV. — OF  MARITIME  AFFAIRS,  FLEETS, 
A>D  KAVAL  FCRCtS.  • 

IF  the  Athenians  were  inferior  to  the  Lacedaemo- 
nian? in  cavalry,  tin  y  had  infinitely  the  advantage 
over  them  in  naval  ailairs;  and  we  have  setn  their 
•kill  in  that  department  make  them  master*  at  M  :>, 
and  give  them  a  great  superiority  over  all  the  other 
statis  of  Greece.  As  this  subject  is  very  necessary 
to  the  understanding  many  passages  in  history  ,  I 
•hall  treat  it  rather  more  extensively  than  I  have 
other  matters,  and  shall  make  great  use  of  what  the 
learned  Father  Don  Bernard  de  iMontfaucon  has  said 
of  it  in  his  books  upon  antiquity. 

The  principal  parts  of  a  ship  were  the  prow  or 
head,  the  poop  or  stern,  and  the  middle,  called  in 
Latin  carina,  the  hulk  or  waist. 

The  I'ROW  was  the  part  which  projected  beyond 
the  waist  or  belly  of  the  ship;  it  was  generally  adorn- 
ed with  paintings  and  diflerent  sculptures  of  gods, 
men,  or  animals.  The  beak,  called  rostrum,  lav 
lower,  and  level  with  the  water:  it  was  a  piece  of 
timber  which  projected  from  the  prow,  armed  with  a 
spike  of  brass,  and  sometimes  of  iron.  The  Grei'ks 
termed  it  J/uc-./.n,. 

The  other  end  of  the  ship,  opposite  to  the  prow, 
was  called  the  POOP.  There  the  pilot  sat  and  held 
the  helm,  which  was  an  oar  longer  and  larger  than 
the  rest. 

The  WAIST  was  the  hollow  of  the  vessel,  or  the 
hold. 

The  ships  were  of  two  kinds.  The  one  were  rowed 
with  oars,  which  were  ships  of  war;  the  other  carried 
•ails,  and  were  v«sstls  of  burden,  intended  for  com- 
merce and  transports. "Both  of  them  sometimes  made 
use  of  oars  and  sails  together,  but  that  very  rarely. 
The  ships  ol  war  are  also  very  often  called  long  ships 
by  ;::ilh(irs,  and  by  that  name  distinguished  from  ves- 
sels of  burden. 

The  long  ships  were  farther  divided  into  two 
iperies:  those  which  were  called  actuarial  naves, 
8nd  were  very  light  vessels,  like  onr  hiiganlines; 
•  ml  those  called  only  long  ships.  The  first  wire 
usually  termed  open  ships,  because  they  had  no  decks. 
Of  these  light  vessels  there  were  some  forger  than 
ordinary,  of  which  some  had  twenty,  some  thirty, 
and  the  others  forty  oars,  half  on  one  side,  and  half 
On  the  other,  all  on  the  same1  line. 

The  long  ships,  which  were  used  in  wnr,  were  of 
two  sorU.  Some  had  only  one  rank  of  oars  on  each 


side;  the  others  two,  three,  four,  five,  or  a  greater 
number,  as  far  as  forty ;  but  these  last  were  rather  for 
show  than  use. 

The  long  ships  of  one  rank  of  oars  were  callec 
aphracti  ;  that  is  to  say,  uncovered,  and  had  nc 
tucks;  this  distinguished  them  from  the  cutnphracti. 
which  had  decks.  They  had  only  small  piatformi 
to  stand  on,  at  the  head  and  stein,  in  the  time  of 
action. 

The  ships  most  commonly  used  in  the  battles  of 
the  ancients,  wire  those  which  carried  from  thite  to 
five  ranks  or  bencher  of  oars,  and  were  called  trire- 
mes and  (jninqiieremet. 

It  is  a  great  question,  and  has  given  occasion  for 
abundance  of  learned  dissertations,  how  these  ben- 
ches of  oars  were  disposed.  Some  will  have  it,  that 
they  were  placed  at  length,  like  the  ranks  of  oars  in 
the  modern  galleys.  Others  maintain,  that  the  ben- 
ches of  the  biremes,  triremes,  quinquert  mes,  and  so 
on  to  the  number  of  forty  in  some  vessels,  w*re  one 
above  another.  To  support  this  last  opinion,  innu- 
merable passages  are  cited  from  ancient  author", 
which  seem  to  leave  no  manner  of  doubt  in  it,  and 
are  considerably  corroborated  by  the  evidence  of 
Trajan's  pillar,  which  represents  these  ranks  one 
above  another.  Father  Montlaucon,  however,  avers, 
that  all  the  persons  of  greatest  skill  in  navnl  altairs 
whom  he  had  consulted,  declared,  that  the  thing 
conceived  in  that  manner  seemed  to  them  utterly 
impossible.  But  reasoning  is  a  weak  proof  against 
the  experience  of  so  many  ages,  continued  li\  -<> 
many  authors.  It  is  true,  that  in  admitting  these 
ranks  of  oars  to  be  disposed  perpendicularly  one 
above  another,  it  is  not  easy  to  comprehend  how 
they  could  be  worked;  but  in  the  biremes  and  trire- 
mes of  Trajan's  pillar,  the  lower  ranks  are  placed 
obliquely,  and  as  it  were  rising  by  degrees. 

In  ancient  times  ships  with  several  ranks  of  oars 
were  m-t  known:  they  made  use  of  long  ships,  in 
which  the  rowers,  however  numerous  they  were, 
worked  all  upon  the  same  line.  Such  was  the  fleet 
which  the  Greeks  sent  against  Troy.1  It  was  com- 
posed of  1200  sail;  among  which  the  galleys  of  Beeo- 
tia  had  each  120  men,  and  of  those  of  t'hiloctetes  50; 
and  this  no  doubt  denotes  the  greatest  and  smallest 
vessels.  Their  galleys  had  no  decks,  but  were  built 
like  common  boats  ;  which  is  still  practised,  says 
Thucydides,  by  the  pirates,  to  prevent  their  being  so 
soon  discovered  at  a  distance. 

The  Corinthians  are  said  to  have  been  the  first 
who  changed  the  form  of  ships;2  and  instead  of 
simple  galleys  made  vessds  with  three  ranks,  in  or- 
der to  add,  by  increasing  the  number  of  oars,  to  the 
swiftness  and"  impetuosity  of  their  motion.  Their 
city,  advantageously  situated  between  two  seas,  wa<i 
well  adapted  for  commerce,  and  served  as  a  staple 
for  merchandise.  Alter  their  example,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Corcyra,  and  the  tyrants  of  Sicily,  equipped 
also  many  galleys  of  three  benches,  a  little  before 
the  war  against  the  Persians.  It  was  about  the  same 
time  that  the  Athenians,  animated  by  the  forcible 
exhortations  of  Themistocles,  w  ho  foresaw  the  war 
which  soon  after  broke  out,  built  ships  of  the  same 
form,  though  even  then  the  deck  did  not  reach  the 
whole  length  of  the  vessel  ;  and  from  thenceforth 
they  applied  themselves  to  naval  affairs  with  incredi- 
ble ardour  nud  success. 

The  beak  of  the  prow  (rostrum)  was  that  part  of 
the  vessel  of  which  most  use  was  made  in  sea-fights. 
A riston  of  Corinth'  persuaded  the  Syrnctisans,  when 
their  city  was  besieged  by  the  Athenians,  to  make 
their  prows  lower  and  shorter:  which  advice  gained 
them  the  victory.  For  the  prows  of  the  Athenian 
vessels  being  very  high  and  very  weak,  their  beak* 
struck  only  the  parts  above  water,  and  for  that  rea- 
son did  lit'tle  damage  to  the  enemy's  ships:  whereas 
those  of  the  Syra<  usnns.  whose  prows  were  strong 
and  low,  and  tfieir  beaks  level  with  the  water,  often 
link,  at  a  single  blow,  the  triremes  of  the  Athenian*. 
Two  sorts  of  people  served  on  board  these  galley  »> 


«  Thucycl.  1    i.  p-  *>. 
*  Diwl.'l.  xiii.  p.  14 


p.  141. 


•  Ibid   p.  10. 


412 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


The  one  were  employed  in  steering  and  working  the, 
ship,  who  were  the  rowers,  rcmiges,  and  the  nun  i- 
ners,  nauict.  The  rest  were  soldiers  intended  for  the 
fiijht,  mid  are  denoted  in  Greek  by  the  word  i*:£,»T»i. 
This  distinction  did  not  prevail  in  the  early  times, 
when  the  same  persons  rowed,  fought,  and  did  all 
the  necessary  work  of  the  ship,  and  this  was  also  not 
tvholly  disused  in  later  days.  For  Thurydides,1  in 
describing  the  arrival  of  trie  Athenian  fleet  at  the 
email  i.html  of  Sphacteria,  observes,  that  only  the 
rowers  of  the  lowest  bench  remained  in  the  ships, 
and  that  the  rest  went  on  shore  with  their  anus. 

1.  The  condition  of  the  rowers  was  very  hard  and 
laborious.     I  have  already  said  that  the  rowers,  as 
well  as  mariners,  were  all  citizens  and  freemen,  and 
not  slaves  or  foreigners,  as  in  these  days.    The  rowers 
were    distinguished    bv    their    several    stages.      The 
lower  rank  were  called  tlialamitce,  the  middle  zugiti?, 
and  the  highest  tliranilte.    Thucydides  remarks,  that 
the  latter  had  greater  pay  than  the  rest,  because  they 
worked  with  longer  and  heavier  oars  than  those  of 
the  lower  benches.     It  seems  that  the  crew,2  in  order 
to  pull  in  concert,  and  with  the  greater  regularity, 
were  sometimes  guided   by   the  singing  of  a  man, 
and  sometimes  by  the  sound  of  an  instrument;  and 
this  grateful   harmony  served   not  only  to  regulate 
the  motion  of  their  oars,  but  to  diminish  and  soothe 
their  toil. 

It  is  a  question  amongst  the  learned,  whether  there 
was  only  one  man  to  every  oar  in  these  great  ships, 
or  several,  as  in  the  galleys  of  these  days. — What 
Thucydides  observes  concerning  the  pay  of  the  thra- 
nitje,  seems  to  imply  that  they  worked  single.  For  if 
others  had  shared  the  work  with  them,  wherefore  had 
they  greater  pay  given  them  than  those  who  managed 
an  oar  alone,  as  the  latter  had  as  much,  and  perhaps 
more  of  the  labour  than  they?  Father  Montfaucon 
believes  that  in  the  vessels  of  more  than  five  ranks 
there  might  be  several  men  to  one  oar. 

He  who  took  care  of  the  whole  crew,  and  com- 
manded the  vessel,  was  called  nauclerus,  and  was  the 
principal  officer.  The  second  was  the  pilot,  guber- 
nator;  his  place  was  in  the  poop,  where  he  held  the 
helm  in  his  hand,  and  steered  the  vessel.  His  skill 
consisted  in  knowing  the  coasts,  ports,  rocks,  shoals, 
and  especially  the  winds  and  stars;  for  before  the 
invention  of  the  compass,  the  pilot  had  nothing  to 
direct  him  during  the  night  but  the  stars. 

2.  The  soldiers  who  fought  in  the  ships  were  armed 
almost   in   the   same   manner  with   the   land    forces. 
There  was  no  fixed  number.    The  Athenians,3  at  the 
battle  of  Salamis,   had    180  vessels,  and   in  each  of 
them    eighteen    fighting    men,   four  of  whom    were 
archers,   and    the    rest   heavy-armed    troops.      The 
officer  who  commanded    these   soldiers   was    called 
TpoipxpxH,  HIK)  the  commander  of  the  fleet,  »«i«px<>{ 

Or  <TTp»T.|yJ{. 

We  cannot  exactly  ascertain  the  number  of  sol- 
diers, mariner?  and  rowers,  that  served  on  board 
each  ship;  but  it  generally  amounted  to  200,  more 
or  less,  as  appears  from  Herodotus's  estimate  of  the 
Persian  fleet  in  the  time  of  Xerxes,  and  in  other 

F  laces  whe.re  mention  is  made  of  that  of  the  Greeks, 
mean    here   the   great  vessels,  the  triremes,  which 
were  the  species  most  in  use. 

The  pay  of  those,  who  served  in  these  ships  varied 
very  much  at  different  times  When  the  younger 
Cyrus  it  reived  in  Asia,*  it  was  only  three  oboli,  which 
was  half  a  drachma,  or  five-pence;  and  the  treaty 
between  the  Persians  and  Lacedaemonians  was  con- 
cluded at  that  rate;5  which  gives  reason  to  believe 


»  Thucyd.  I.  iv.  p.  275. 

»  Mu*ir-nm  nntura  ip«a  vidrtur  ad  tolrrandus  fiicHm* 
ahnrcii  V.  luti  imini-ri  n<iln<  ilcdi«»c.  Sup, id, -m  (.|  n-mii'fMi 
ennui*  hmlatur ;  nnc  noli'im  in  ii»  np>>riliii4,  in  <|itil>us  pin- 
lium  coniitnn  prtffiinin  aliqiia  jucunda  vnre  rnnspirat,  sod 
eliam  niri;Milnru!ti  futigatiii  i|uainlibet  He  rudi  modulation*- 
lulnfiir.  Quintil.  I.  i.  r.  HI 

i  pint,  in  riii'tnitt.  p.  ll!>.        •  Xenoph.  Rbt.l.l  p.441. 

•  Tlii*  treaty  Klipiiliilfd  that  the  Persian*  xlioutd  pay 
thirty  minip  «  mnntli  f«T  each  ship,  which  wan  half  a  lal«nt ; 
the  whole  amounted  to  three  oboli  a  day  for  every  man  that 
served  on  Iwinrd. 


that  the  usual  pay  was  three  oboli.  Cyrus,  at  l.ysan 
der's  request  added  a  fourth,  which  made  sixpence* 
halfpenny  a  day.  It  was  often  raised  to  a  whole 
drachma,6  about  ten-pence  French.  In  the  fleet  fit- 
ted out  against  Sicily,  the  Athenians  gave  a  drachma 
a  day  to  the  troops.  The  *um  of  sixty  talents,17  which 
the  people  of  Egesta  advanced  to  the  Athenians 
monthly  for  the  maintaining  of  sixty  ships,8  shows 
that  the  pay  of  each  vessel  for  a  month  amounted  to 
a  talent,  that  is  to  say,  to  about  140/.;  which  supposes 
that  each  ship's  company  consisted  of  200  men,  each 
of  whom  received  a  drachma,  or  ten-pence,  a  day. 
As  the  officers'  pay  was  higher,  the  republic  perhaps 
either  furnished  the  overplus,  or  it  was  deducted  out 
of  the  total  of  the  sum  advanced  for  a  vessel,  by 
abating  something  in  the  pay  of  the  private  men. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  land  troops  as  has 
been  said  of  the  seamen,  except  that  the  cavalry  had 
double  their  pay.  It  appears  that  the  ordinary  pay 
of  the  foot  was  three  oboli  a  day,  and  that  it  was 
augmented  according  to  times  and  occasions.  Thim- 
bron  the  Lacedfemonian,'  when  he  marched  against 
Tissaphernes,  promised  a  darick  a  month  to  each  sol- 
dier, two  to  a  captain,  and  four  to  the  colonels.  Now 
a  darick  a  month  is  four  oboli  a  day.  The  younger 
Cyrus,  to  animate  his  troops,  who  were  disheartened 
by  the  idea  of  a  too  long  march,  instead  of  one  darick, 
promised  one  and  a  half  to  each  soldier,  which  amount- 
ed to  a  drachma,  or  ten-pence  French,  a  day. 

It  may  be  asked  how  the  Lacedaemonians,  whose 
iron  coin,  the  only  species  current  amongst  them, 
would  pass  no  where  else,  could  maintain  armies  by 
sea  and  land;  and  where  they  found  money  for  their 
subsistence.  It  is  not  to  be  doubted  but  they  raised 
it,  as  the  Athenians  did,  by  contributions  from  their 
allies,  and  still  more  from  the  cities  to  which  they 
gave  liberty  and  protection,  or  from  those  they  had 
conquered  from  their  enemies.  Their  second  fund 
for  paving  their  fleet  and  armies  was  the  aids  which 
they  drew  from  the  king  of  Persia,  as  we  have  seen 
on  several  occasions. 

SECTION    V.— PECULIAR  CHARACTER  OF  THE 
ATHENIANS. 

Pl.UTARCH  will  furnish  us  with  almost  all  the  lead- 
ing feature*  upon  this  head.  Every  body  knows  hpv» 
well  he  succeeds  in  copying  nature  in  his  portraits, 
and  how  well  calculated  he  was  to  trace,  the  charac- 
ter of  a  people  whose  genius  and  manners  he  had 
studied  with  so  profound  an  attention. 

I.'°  The  people  of  Jllhen*,"  says  Plutarch,  are 
easily  provoked  to  anger,  and  as  easily  induced  to 
resume  sentiments  of  benevolence  and  compassion. 
History  supplies  us  with  an  infinity  of  examples  of 
this  kind:  the  sentence  of  death  passed  against  the 
inhabitants  of  Mitylene,  and  revoked  the  next  day: 
the  condemnation  of  the  ten  generals,  and  that  of 
Socrates, — both  followed  with  an  immediate  repent- 
ance and  the  most  lively  grief. 

1 1.  They  are  better  pleased  with  forming  a  prompt 
decision,'*  and  almost  guessing  at  the  result  of  an 
affair,  than  with  giving  themselves  leisure  to  be  in- 
formed in  it  thoroughly,  and  in  all  its  extent. 

Nothing  is  more  surprising  than  thfs  circumstance 
in  their  character,  which  it  is  very  hard  to  conceive,  ag 
it  seems  almost  incredible.  Artificers,  husbandmen, 
soldiers,  mariners,  are  generally  a  heavj'  kind  of  peo- 
ple, and  very  dull  in  their  conceptions;  but  the  people 
of  Athens  were  of  a  quite  different  turn.  They  had 
naturally  a  penetration,  vivacity,  and  even  delicacy 
of  wit,  that  surprise  us.  I  have  already  mentioned 
what  happened  to  Theophrastns.  He  was  cheapen- 
ing something  nf  an  old  woman  of  Athens  that  srld 
herbs:  '•  JVo,  Mr.  Stranger,  said  she,  you  shall  not 


'  About  8.400/.  cterling 
•  Xunopb.  Ex|>cd.  Cyr.  1.  vii. 


•  Thucyd.  '.  vi.  p.  431. 
»  Thucyd.  .  vi.  p.  415. 
»»  Plot,  de  pripccpt.  rcifi.  ger.  p.  703. 

•»l    'O    £ijC"<    'AJ)1W«I«1»   lUXlVnTOf    ICTTI    :r 

SITU.-   *-,)(  Ixmv. 

•»  Mi\)io»    0;«'iuk   uiroveiTv,  5    Si  Jirxio 


»  <  'mil  Theophrastus  pcrcontaretur  ex  aniculu  quadam 
quanti  nliquid  venderet,  et  respomiissel  ilia,  utque  uihiidi 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


413 


\ave  it  for  less.  He  was  much  surprised  to  see  him- 
telf  treated  as  a  stranger,  who  had  passed  almost  his 
whole  life  at  Athens,  and  piqued  himself  upon  excel- 
ling all  other?  in  the  elegance  of  his  language.  It 
was.  however,  from  that  she  knew  he  was  not  of  her 
country.  We  have  seen  that  ihe  Athenian  soldier* 
knew  tde  fine  passages  of  the  tragedies  of  F.uripides 
by  heart.  Besides,  these  artificers  and  soldier-,  from 
assisting  at  the  public  deliberations,  were  versed  in 
affairs  of  state,  and  understood  every  thing  at  half  a 
word.  We  may  judge  of  this  from  the  orations  of 
Demosthenes,  wtiose  style  we  know  is  ardent,  ner- 
rous,  and  concise. 

III.  Jls  they  nre  naturally  inclined  to  relieve  per- 
tons  of  a  low  condition  and  mean  circumstances,  no 
tre  they  fund  of  conversations  seasoned  with  plea- 
'antry,  and  calculated  to  make  people  lang-kt 

They  assisted  persons  of  a  mean  condition,*  be- 
cause from  snrh  they  had  nothing  to  apprehend  in 
regard  to  their  liberty,  and  saw  in  them  the  charac- 
ters of  equality,  and  resemblance  with  themselves. 
They  loved  pleasantry,  and  in  that  showed  they  were 
men;  but  men  abounding  with  good  nature  and  in- 
dulgence, who  understood  raillery,  who  were  not 
prone  to  take  offence,  nor  over  delicate  in  point  of 
the  respect  due  to  them.  One  day  when  the  assem- 
bly was  fully  formed,  and  the  people  had  already 
taken  their  places,  Cleon,  after  having  made  them 
wait  his  coining  a  gr°at  while,  appeared  at  last  with 
a  wreath  of  Mowers  upon  his  head,  and  desired  the 
people  to  adjourn  their  deliberations  to  the  next  day: 
"  For  to-day,"  said  he,  "  I  have  business.  I  have 
been  sacrificing  to  the  gods,  and  am  to  entertain 
lome  strangers,  my  friends,  at  supper."  The  Athe- 
nians, setting  up  a  laugh,  rose,  and  broke  up  the 
assembly.  At  Carthage,  it  would  have  cost  any  man 
his  life,  who  had  presumed  to  vent  such  a  pleasantry, 
and  to  take  such  a  liberty  with  a  proud,3  haughty, 
jealous,  morose  people,  little  disposed  by  nature  to 
cultivate  the  graces,  and  still  less  inclined  to  humour. 
Upon  another  occasion  the  orator  Stratocles,  having 
informed  the  people  of  a  victory,  and  in  consequence 
caused  sacrifices  to  be  offered, — three  days  after,  new? 
came  of  the  defeat  of  the  army.  As  th'e  people  ex- 
pressed their  discontent  and  resentment  upon  the 
false  information,  he  asked  them  "of  what  they  had 
to  complain,  and  what  harm  he  had  done  them,  in 
making  them  pas*  three  days  more  agreeably  than 
they  \vould  else  have  done?" 

IV.  They   are  pleased   with   hearing   themselves 
praised,  and  yet  readily  bear  to  be  ridiculed  or  criti- 
cized*    The    least  acquaintance  with   Aristophanes 
«nd   Demosthenes  will  show  with  what  address  and 
effect  they  employed  praises  and  censure  with  regard 
to  the  people  of  Athens. 

When  the  republic  enjoyed  peace  and  tranquil- 
lity,5 says  the  same  Plutarch  in  another  place,  the 
Athenian  people  diverted  themselves  with  the  ora- 
tors who  flattered  them:  but  in  important  affairs  and 
emergencies  of  the  state,  they  became  serious,  and 
gave  the  preference  to  those  whose  custom  it  had 
been  to  oppose  their  unjust  desires:  such  as  Pericles, 
Phocion.  and  Demosthenes. 

V.  They  keep  even  those  who  govern  them  in  awe, 
and  show  their  humanity  even  to  their  enemies.* 

The  people  of  Athens  made  good  use  of  the  talents 
•jf  those  who  distinguished -themselves  by  their  elo- 
quence and  piudenre;  but  they  were  full  of  suspi- 
cion, and  kept  themselves  always  c '  their  guard 
•gainst  their  superiority  of  genius  ant,  Ability;  they 


«et,  Mo*pps,  nnn  poles  minori? ;  tulit  molente,  sc  non  cffuircre 
hospiiis  gpeciem,  rum  a>tnlem  agerel  Ailirni*,  optimeque 
loquerelur.  Cie.  de  CUr.  Oral.  n.  17. 

I  'ile-xif  TKV  ivjfi»  T0i«  iiijoi;  x»i  TS*-IIVO~;    i-r'.nr 
>rpJ3vyMJTi^2{,   iSrmf    T£»   ».cy»»   TOif   fni^ritiint    x»i    /i. 

•  Xenopli.  de  Athcn.  Rep.  p  691. 

'  '  ' 


*4  "r^V  ' 

XI«-T«    x*ifi>,    rtif    it 

1     IliTf.JV     «i,T«r{     XXI*     <Tl!/< 

Pelop    p.  23). 
•  Plut.  in  Demeir.  p  898. 

«•  De  Rep.  A  then.  p.  691. 

piyiT»i.     Plot. 

•  FuJ.  in  Pliocion,  p.  746. 

took  pleasure  in  restraining  their  courage.  nml  les- 
sening their  glory  and  reputation.  This  may  b* 
judged  from  the  ostracism,  which  was  instituted  onlv 
as  a  curb  on  those  whose  merit  and  popularity  ran 
too  high,  and  which  spared  neither  the  greale-t  nor 
the  most  worthy  persons.  The  hatred  of  tyranny  and 
tyrant*,  which  was  in  a  manner  innate  in  the  Athe- 
nians, made  them  extremely  jealous  and  apprehensive 
for  their  liberty  with  regard  to  those  who  governed. 

As  to  what  relates  to  their  enemies,  they  did  not 
treat  them  with  rigour;  they  did  not  make  an  inso- 
lent use  ot  victory,  nor  exercise  any  cruelly  towards 
the  vanquished.  The  amnesty  decreed  alter  the  ty- 
ranny of  the  Thirty,  shows  that  they  could  not  forget 
the  injuries  which  they  had  undergone  from  them. 

To  these  different  characteristics,  which  Plutarch 
unites  in  the  same  passage  of  his  works,  some  others 
may  be  added,  extracted  principally  from  the  same 
author. 

VI.  It  was  from  this  fund  of  humanity  and   bene- 
volence,7 of  which   I   have   now  spoken,  and   which 
was  natural  to  the  Athenians,  that  they  were  so  at- 
tentive to  the  rules  of  politeness,  and   so  delicate   in 
point  of  decorum— qualities  one  would  not  expect  to 
find   union;;  the  common  people.     In  the  war  again-t 
Philip  of  Macedon,8  having   intercepted   one  of  his 
couriers,  they  read  all  the  letters  he  carried,  except 
that   from   Olympias   hi*   wile,  which    they   returned 
sealed   up  and    unopened,  out  of  regard   to  conjugal 
love  and  secrecy,  the  rights  of  which  are  sacred,  and 
ought  to  be  respected  even   imongst  enemies.     The 
same  Athenians   having  detieed   that  a  strict  search 
should    be   made  after  the   presents  distributed   bj 
Harpalus  amongst  the  orators,  would   not  suffer  the 
house   of  Callicles,  who   was   lately   married,  to   be 
visited,  out  of  respect  for  his  bride,  not  long  brought 
home.     Such    behaviour   is   not   very  common;    and 
upon  like  occasions  people  do  not  always  stand  upon 
forms  and  politeness. 

VII.  The  taste  of  the  Athenians  for  all   arts  and 
sciences  is  too  well  known  to  require  dwelling  long 
upon  it  in  this  place.     But  we  cannot  see,  without 
admiration,  a  people,  composed  for  the  most  part,  as 
I  have  said  before,  of  arlizans,  husbandmen,  soldiers, 
and   mariners,  carry  delicacy  of  taste  in  every  kind 
to  so  high  a  degree  of  perfection,  which  seems  the 
peculiar  attribute  of  a  more  exalted1  condition,  and  a 
nobler  education. 

VIII.  It   is    no    les«.  wonderful    that   this  people 
should  have  had  such  great  views,9  and  risen  so  high, 
in   their  pretensions.     In   the  war  which  Alcibiades 
made  them   undertake,  filled  with   vast  projects  and 
unbounded  hopes,  they  did  not  confine  themselves  to 
the  taking  of  Syracuse  or  the  conquest  of  Sicily,  but 
had   already  grasped   Italy,  Peloponnesus,  Libya,  the 
Carthaginian  states,  and  the  empire  of  the  sea  as  far 
as  the   Pillars  of  Hercules.     Their  enterprise  failed, 
but  they  had  formed  it;  and  the  taking  of  Syracuse, 
which  seemed  no  great  difficulty,  might  have  enabled 
them  to  put  it  in  execution. 

IX.  The  same  people,  so  great,  and,  one  may  «ay, 
«o   haughty  in    their  projects,  had    nothing   ol    that 
character  in  other  respects.     In  what  regarded  the 
expense  of  the  table,  dress,  furniture,  private  build- 
ings, and,  in  a  word,   private  life,  they   were   frugal, 
simple,  modest,  and  poor;  but  sumptuous  and   mag- 
nificent in  every  thing  public,  and  capable  of  doing 
honour    to    the    state.      Their    victories,    conquests, 
wealth,  and  continual  communication  with  the  peo- 
ple of  Asia  Minor,  introduced   neither  luxury,  glut- 
tony,  pomp,    nor   vain    profusion    amongst    them. — 
Xenophon  ••  observes  that  a  citizen  could  not  be  dis- 
tinguished  from  a  slave  by  his  dress.     The   richest 
inhabitants  and  the  most   famous  generals  were  not 
ashamed  to  go  to  market  themselves. 

X.  It  was  very  glorious  for  Athens  to  have   pro- 
duced and  formed  so  many  personi  who  excelled  ta 


IK! 


414 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


the  arts  of  war  and  government;  in  philosophy,  elo- 
quence, poesy,  painting,  sculpture,  anil  architecture: 
to  have  furnished  alone  more  great  men  in  every  de- 
partment than  any  other  city  of  the  world;  if,  per- 
haps we  except  Rome,  which  had  imbibed  her  infor- 
mation from  Athens,  and  knew  how  to  apply  tier  les- 
sons to  the  best  advantage:1  to  have  been  in  some 
sort  the  school,  and  tutor  of  almost  the  whole  uni- 
verse: to  have  served,  and  still  continue  to  serve, 
as  the  model  for  all  nations  which  pique  them- 
selves most  upon  their  fine  taste:  in  a  word,  to 
have  «et  the  fashion,  and  prescribed  the  laws  ol 
all  that  regards  the  talents  and  productions  of  the 
mind. 

XI.  I  shall  conclude  this  description  of  the  Athe- 
nians with  one  more  attribute  which  cannot  be 
denied  them,  and  appears  evidently  in  all  their  ac- 
tions and  enterprises;  atid  that  is,  their  ardent  love 
of  liberty.  This  was  their  darling  passion,  and  the 
main-spring  of  their  policy.  We  see  them,  from 
the  commencement  of  the  war  with  the  Persians, 
(sacrifice  every  thing  to  the  liberty  of  Greece.  They 
abandon,  without  the  least  hesitation,  their  hinds, 
estates,  city,  and  houses,  and  remove  to  their  ships, 
in  order  to  fight  the  common  enemy,  whose  view 
was  to  enslave  them.  What  day  could  be  more  glo- 
rious for  Athens,  than  that  in  which,  when  all  the 
allies  were  trembling  at  the  vast  offers  made  her  by 
the  king  of  Persia,  she  answered  his  ambassador  by 
the  mouth  of  Aristides,2  That  all  the  gold  and  silver 
in  the  world  was  not  capable  of  tempting  them  to  sell 
their  own  liberty  or  that  of  Greece.  It  was  from 
such  generous  sentiments  that  the  Athenians  not  only 
became  the  bulwark  of  Greece,  but  preserved  the 
rest  of  Europe,  and  all  the  western  world  from  the 
invasion  of  the  Persians. 

These  great  qualities  were  mingled  with  great  de- 
fects, often  the  very  reverse  of  them,  such  as  we  may 
imagine  in  a  fluctuating,  light,  inconstant,  capricious 
people,  as  were  the  Athenians. 

SECTION   VI. — COMMON  CHARACTER  OF  THE 
LACEDAEMONIANS   AND  ATHENIANS. 

I  CANNOT  refuse  giving  a  place  here  to  what  M. 
Bossuet  says  upon  the  character  of  the  Lacedsemo- 
nians  and  Athenians.  The  passage  is  long,  but  will 
not  appear  so;  and  will  include  all  that  is  wanting  to 
a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  genius  of  both  those 
states. 

Amongst  all  the  republics  of  which  Greece  was 
composed,  Athens  and  Lacedasmon  we  re  undoubtedly 
the  principal.  No  people  could  have  more  wit  than 
the  Athenians,  nor  more  solid  sense  than  the  Lace- 
daemonians. Athens  affected  pleasure;  the  Lacedae- 
monian way  of  life  was  hard  and  laborious.  Both 
loved  glory  and  liberty;  but  liberty  at  Athens  ten- 
ded to  licentiousness:  and,  controlled  by  severe  laws 
at  Lacedaemon,  the  more  restrained  it  was  at  home, 
the  more  ardent  it  was  to  extend  itself  by  ruling 
abroad.  Athens  wished  also  to  reign,  but  upon  ano- 
ther principle,  in  which  interest  had  a  share  with  glo- 
ry. Her  citizens  excelled  in  the  art  of  navigation, 
and  her  sovereignty  at  sea  had  enriched  her.  To 
continue  in  the  sole  possession  of  all  commerce,  there 
was  nothing  she  was  not  desirous  of  subjecting  to 
her  power;  and  her  riches,  which  inspired  this  de- 
sir«,  supplied  her  with  the  meansof  gratifying  it.  On 
the  contrary,  at  Lacedaemon  money  was  in  contempt. 
As  all  the  laws  tended  to  make  the  latter  a  military 
republic,  martial  glory  was  the  sole  object  that  en- 
grossed the  minds  of  her  citizens.  From  thence  she 
naturally  affected  dominion;  and  the  more  she  was 
above  interest,  the  more  she  abandoned  herself  to 
ambition. 

Laredaemon,  from  her  regular  life,  was  steady  and 
determinate  in  her  maxims  and  measures.  Athens 
was  more  lively  and  active,  and  the  people  too  much 
masters.  Philosophy  and  the  laws  had  indeed  the 


•  Grccin  capta  ferum  victorcm  ccpit,  et  arlcs 
Inlulit  ngrosli  [.nlio.          Herat.  Mpi.il.  1. 1.  2. 
Greece  taken,  took  her  ravage  victors'  hearts, 
And  polinh'd  rustic  Latium  with  her  aru. 
•  Flut.  in  ArUtid.  p  343. 


most  happy  effects  upon  such  exquisite  natural  part*  as 
theirs;  but  reason  alone  was  not  capable  of  keeping 
them  within  due  bounds.  A  wise  Athenian,3  who 
knew  admirably  the  genius  of  his  country,  inlSrms  us, 
that  fear  was  necessary  to  those  too  ardent  anil  free 
spirits;  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  govern  them, 
after  that  the  victory  at  Salami*  had  removed  their 
fears  of  the  Persians. 

Two  things,  then,  ruined  them;  the  glory  of  their 
great  actions,  and  the  supposed  security  of  their  pre- 
sent condition.  The  magistrates  were  no  longer 
heard;  and  as  Persia  was  afflicted  with  excessive 
slavery:  so  Athens,  says  Plato,  experienced  all  the 
evils  of  excessive  liberty. 

Those  two  great  republics,  so  contrary  in  their  man 
ners  and  conduct,  interfered  with  each  other  in  the 
design  they  had  each  formed  of  subjecting  all  Greece; 
so  that  they  were  always  enemies,  still  more  from  the 
contrariety  of  their  interests  than  from  the  incompat- 
ibility of  their  humours. 

The  Grecian  cities  were  unwilling  to  submit  to  th» 
dominion  of  either  the  one  or  the  other:  for  besides 
that  each  was  desirous  of  preserving  their  liberty,  they 
found  the  empire  of  those  two  republics  too  grievous 
to  bear.  That  of  the  Lacedemonians  was  severe. 
That  people  were  observed  to  have  something  almost 
brutal  in  their  character.  A  government  too  rigid,* 
and  a  life  too  laborious,  rendered  their  tempers  too 
haughty,  austere,  and  imperious  in  power:  besides 
which,  they  could  never  expect  to  live  in  peace  under 
the  influence  of  a  citv,  which  being  formed  for  war 
could  not  support  itself,  but  by  continuing  perpetu- 
ally in  arms.  So  that  the  Lacedaemonians  were  de- 
sirous of  attaining  to  command,  and  all  the  world 
were  afraid  they  should  do  so.6 

The  Athenians  were  naturally  more  mild  and  agree- 
able.6 Nothing  was  more  delightful  to  behold  than 
their  city,  in  which  feasts  and  games  were  perpetual; 
where  wit,  liberty,  and  the  various  passions  of  men 
daily  exhibited  new  objects:  but  the  inequality  of 
their  conduct  disgusted  their  allies,  and  v:as  still  more 
insupportable  to  their  own  subjects.  It  was  impossi- 
ble for  them  not  to  experience  the  extravagance  and 
caprice  of  a  flattered  people;  that  is  to  say,  according 
to  Plato,  something  more  dangerous  than  the  same 
excesses  in  a  prince  vitiated  by  (lattery. 

These  two  cities  did  not  permit  Greece  to  contin- 
ue in  repose.  We  have  seen  the  Peloponnesian  and 
other  wars,  which  were  always  occasioned,  or  fomen- 
ted, by  the  jealousy  of  Lacedtemon  and  Athens.  Bui 
the  same  jealousies  which  involved  Greece  in  troubles, 
supported  it  in  some  measure,  and  prevented  its  falling 
into  dependence  upon  cither  the  one  or  the  other  of 
those  republics. 

The  Persians  soon  perceived  this  condition  of 
Greece;  and  accordingly  the  whole  mystery  of  their 
politics  consisted  in  keeping  up  those  jealousies,  and 
fomenting  those  divisions.  Lacedypuion,  which  wai 
the  most  ambitious,  was  the  first  that  gave  them  oc- 
casion to  take  a  part  in  the  quarrels  of  the  Greeks. 
They  engaged  in  them  from  the  sole  view  of  making 
themselves  masters  of  the  whole  nation;  and,  indus- 
trious to  weaken  the  Greeks  by  their  own  arms,  they 
waited  only  the  opportunity  to  crush  them  altogether. 
The  states  of  Greece,7  in  their  wars,  already  regard- 
ed only  the  king  of  Persia,  whom  they  called  the 
Great  King,  or  the  King,  by  way  of  eminence,  as  if 
they  had  already  reckoned  themselves  among  the 
number  of  his  subjects.  But  it  was  impossible  thai 
the  ancient  spirit  of  Greece  should  not  revive,  when 
they  were  upon  the  point  of  falling  into  slavery,  and 
the  hands  of  the  barbarians. 

The  petty  kings  of  Greece  undertook  to  oppose 
this  great  kfng,  and  to  ruin  his  empire.  With  a  small 
army,8  but  bred  in  the  discipline  we  have  related, 
Agesilaus,  king  of  Sparta,  made  the  Persians  tremble 
in  Asia  Minor,  and  showed  it  was  not  impossible  to 
subvert  their  power.  The  divisions  of  Greece  alone 


•  Piat.l.  iii.  do  leg. 

«  /trUtot.  Polit.  I.  i.  p.  4. 

•  Plat.  .leRep.  I.  viii. 

i  Plat.  I.  iii.  do  Jog.     I  social.  Panegyr, 

•  Polyb.  1.  iii. 


>  Xenoph  at  Uep.  Lncoa 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


415 


•»ut  a  stop  to  his  conquests.  The  famous  retreat  of 
the  10,000,  who,  after  the  death  of  the  younger  Cy- 
rus, in  spite  of  the  victorious  troops  ol  Artaxerxis, 
made  their  way  in  a  hostile  manner  through  the  whole 
Persian  empire,  and  returned  into  their  own  country; 
that  action,  I  say,  demonstrated  to  Greece  more  than 
ever,  that  their  soldiery  WHS  invincible,  and  superior 
to  all  opposers;  and  that  only  their  domestic  divisions 
could  subject  them  to  an  enemy  too  weak  to  resist 
their  forces  when  united. 

\Ve  shall  «ie,  in  the  series  of  this  history,  by  what 
methods  Philip,  king  of  Macedon,  taking  advantage 
of  these  divisions,  succeeded  at  length,  partly  by  ad- 
dress and  partly  by  force,  in  making  hiiusell'little  less 
ihan  the  sovereign  of  Greece,  and  by  what  means  he 
obliged  the  whole  nation  to  march  under  his  colours 
•gainst  the  common  enemy.  What  he  had  only 
planned,  his  son  Alexander  brought  to  perfection; 
and  showed  to  the  wondering  world  how  much  ability 
and  valour  avail  against  the  most  numerous  armies 
and  the  most  formidable  preparations. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF   RELIGION. 

IT  is  observable,  that  in  all  ages  and  in  every  coun- 
try the  several  nations  of  the  world,  howdver  various 
and  opposite  in  their  characters,  inclinations,  and 
manners,  have  always  united  in  one  essential  point; 
the  inherent  opinion  of  an  adoration  due  to  a  Su- 
preme Being,  and  of  external  forms,  calculated  to 
evince  such  a  belief.  Into  whatever  country  we 
cast  our  eyes,  we  find  priests,  altars,  sacrifices,  festi- 
vals, religious  ceremonies,  temples,  or  places  conse- 
crated to  religious  worship.  Among  every  people 
we  discover  a  reverence  and  awe  of  the  Divinity; 
an  homage  and  honour  paid  to  him;  and  an  open 
profession  of  an  entire  dependence  upon  him  in  all 
their  undertakings,  in  all  their  necessities,  in  all  their 
adversities  and  dangers.  Incapable  of  themselves  to 
penetrate  into  futurity  and  to  ensure  success,  we  find 
them  careful  to  consult  the  Divinity  by  oracles,  and 
by  other  methods  of  a  like  nature;  and  to  merit  his 
protection  by  prayers,  vows,  and  offerings.  It  is  by 
the  same  supreme  authority  they  believe  the  most 
solemn  treaties  are  rendered  inviolable.  It  is  that 
which  gives  sanction  to  their  oaths;  and  to  it  by  im- 
precations is  referred  the  punishment  of  such  crimes 
and  enormities  as  escape  the  knowledge  and  power 
of  men.  On  all  their  private  concerns,  voyages, 
journeys,  marriages,  diseases,  the  Divinity  is  still  in- 
voked. With  him  their  every  repast  "begins  and 
ends.  No  war  is  declared,  no  battle  fought,  no  en- 
terprise formed,  without  his  aid  being  first  implored; 
to  which  the  glory  of  the  success  is  constantly  ascri- 
bed by  public  acts  of  thanksgiving,  and  by  the  obla- 
tion of  the  most  precious  ot  the  spoils,  which  they 
never  fail  to  set  apart,  as  appertaining  by  right  to  the 
Divinity. 

No  variety  of  opinion  is  discernible  in  regard  to 
the  foundation  of  this  belief.  If  some  few  persons, 
depraved  by  false  philosophy,  presume  from  time  to 
time  to  rise  up  against  this  doctrine,  they  are  imme- 
diately disclaimed  bv  the  public  voice.  They  con- 
tinue singular  and  alone,  without  making  parties,  or 
forming  sects;  the  whole  weight  of  the  public  au- 
thority falls  upon  them;  a  price  is  set  upon  their 
heads;  whilst  they  are  universally  regarded  as  exe- 
crable persons,  the  bane  of  civil  society,  wish  whom 
it  is  criminal  to  have  any  kind  of  commerce. 

So  general,  so  uniform,  so  perpetual  a  consent  of 
all  the  nations  of  the  universe,  which  neither  the 
prejudice  ol  the  passions,  the  false  reasoning  of  some 
philosophers,  nor  the  authority  and  example  of  cer- 
tain princes,  have  ever  been  able  to  weaken  or  vary, 
can  proteed  only  from  a  first  principle,  which  forms  a 
parl  of  the  nature  of  man;  from  an  inward  sentiment 
implanted  in  his  heart  bv  the  author  of  his  being; 
and  from  an  original  tradftion  as  ancient  as  the  world 
itself. 

Such  were  the  iour--e  and  origin  of  the  religion  of 


the  ancients;  truly  worthy  of  man,  hsd  he  bee« 
capable  of  persisting  in  the  purity  and  simplicity  of 
these  first  principles:  but  the  errors  ot  the  mind,  ;m« 
the  vices  of  the  heart,  those  sad  ellects  cf  the  col  • 
ruption  of  human  nature,  have  strangely  disfigured 
thtir  original  beauty.  There  are  still  some  faint 
rays,  some  brilliant  spaiks  of  light,  which  a  general 
depravity  ha.s  not  bet  n  able  to  extinguish  utterly; 
but  they  are  incapable  of  dispelling  the  profound 
darkness  of  the  gloom  which  prevails  almost  univer 
sally,  and  presents  nothing  to  view  but  absurdities, 
follies,  extravagancies,  licentiousness,  antl  disorder; 
in  a  word,  a  hideous  chaos  of  frantic  excesses  and 
enormous  vice*. 

Can  any  thing  be  more  admirable  than  these  prin- 
ciples laid  down  by  Cicero?1  That  we  ought  above 
all  things  to  be  convinced  that  there  is  a  Supreme 
Being,  who  presides  over  all  the  events  of  the  world 
and  disposes  every  thing  as  sovereign  lord  and  ai bi- 
ter: that  it  is  to  him  mankind  are  indebted  for  all 
the  good  they  enjoy:  that  he  penetrates  into,  and  ii 
conscious  of  whatever  passes  in  the  most  secret  re- 
cesses of  our  hearts:  that  he  treats  the  just  and  the 
impious  according  to  their  respective  merits:  that  the 
true  means  of  acquiring  his  favour,  and  of  being 
pleasing  in  his  sight,  is  not  by  employing  of  riches  and 
magnificence  in  the  worship  that  is  paid  to  him, 
but  by  presenting  him  with  a  heart  pure  and  blame- 
less, and  by  adoring  him  with  an  unfeigned  and  pro- 
found veneration. 

Sentiments  so  sublime  and  religious  were  the  re- 
sult of  the  reflections  of  some  few  who  employed 
themselves  in  the  study  of  the  heart  of  man,  and  had 
recourse  to  the  first  principles  of  his  institution 
of  which  they  still  retain  some  valuable  relics. 
But  the  whole  system  of  their  religion,  the  tendency 
of  their  public  leasts  and  ceremonies,  the  essence  of 
the  Pagan  theology,  of  which  the  poets  were  the 
only  teachers  and  professort,  the  very  example  of  the 
gods,  whose  violent  passions,  scandalous  adventures, 
and  abominable  crimes,  were  celebrated  in  their 
hymns  or  odes,  and  proposed  in  some  measure  to  the 
imitation,  as  well  as  adoration,  of  the  people:  these 
were  certainly  very  unfit  means  to  enlighten  the 
minds  of  men,  and  to  form  them  to  virtue  and  mo- 
rality. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  in  the  greatest  solemnities 
of  the  Pagan  religion,  and  in  their  most  sacred  ana 
venerable  nnsteries,  far  from  perceiving  any  thing 
which  can  recommend  virtue,  piety,  or  the  practice 
of  the  most  essential  duties  of  ordinary  life,  we  find 
the  authority  of  laws,  the  imperious  power  of  cus-  • 
torn,  the  presence  of  magistrates,  the  assembly  o 
all  orders  of  the  state,  the  example  of  fathers  and 
mothers,  all  copspirc  to  train  up  a  whole  nation  from 
their  infancy  in  an  impure  and  sacrilegious  worship 
under  the  name,  and  in  a  manner  under  the  sanc- 
tion, of  religion  itself;  as  we  shall  soon  see  in  the 
sequel. 

After  these  general  reflections  upon  Paganism,  it  is 
time  to  proceed  to  a  particular  account  of  the  religion 
of  the  Greeks.  I  shall  reduce  this  subject,  though 
infinite  in  itself,  to  four  articles,  which  are,  1.  Tne 
feasts.  2.  The  oracles,  auguries,  and  divinations.  3. 
The  games  and  combats.  4.  The  public  shows  and 
representations  of  the  theatre.  In  each  of  these  arti- 
cles, I  shall  treat  only  of  what  appears  most  worthy 
of  the  reader's  curiosity,  and  has  most  'elation  to  this 
history.  I  omit  saying  any  thing  of  sacrifices,  having 
given  a  sufficient  idea  of  them  elsewhere.1 

Of  the  Feasts. 

An  infinite  number  of  feasts  were  celebrated  in  th 
several  cities  of  Greece,  and  especially  at  Athens,  ol 


Sit  hoc  jam  A  principle  persuasum  embus :  dominot 
esse  omnium  rerum  ar  modpratores  deos.  raque  quB  per- 
untur  eorum  peri  judicio  ac  numine;  eondrmque  optimi 
de  ffinere  hnminum  mercri  ;  et,  qualis  quisque  »it.  quid 
agat,  quid  in  se  admiltat,  qua  memo,  qua  pieiate  rel:«ionei 
rolal.  intueri ;  piorumc.'ie  el  impiorum  lialwre  ration«m— 
Ad  divos  adeunto  casie.  Pirtatrm  adhioentu,  upci  aic» 
vento.  Cic.  de  Leg.  I.  ii.  n.  i"  e<  '!'. 
»  Manner  of  Teach;»g  kc  .44. 


410 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


which  I  shall  describe  only  three  of  the  most  famous; 
the  Panatheiiea,  the  feast's  of  Bacchus,  and  those  of 
Kleusis. 

7Tie  Panalhenea. 

This  feast  was  celebrated  at  Athens  in  honour  of 
Minerva,  the  tutelary  goddess  of  that  city,  to  which 
slie  gave  her  name,1  as  well  as  to  the  feast  of  which 
we  are  speaking,  its  institution  was  ancient,  and  it 
was  called  at  first  the  Athenea;  but  after  Theseus 
had  united  the  several  towns  of  Attica  into  one  cily, 
it  took  the  name  of  Panathenea.  These  feasts  were 
of  two  kinds,  the  great  and  the  less,  which  were 
•delimited  with  almost  the  same  ceremonies;  the  less 
annually,  and  the  great  upon  the  expiration  of  every 
fourth  year 

In  these  feasts  were  exhibited  racing,  the  gymnastic 
combats  and  the  contentions  for  the  prizes  of  music 
and  poetry.  Ten  commissaries,  elected  from  the 
ten  tribes,  presided  on  this  occasion,  to  regulate  the 
forms,  antl  distribute  the  rewards  to  the  victors.  This 
festival  continued  several  clays. 

In  the  morning  of  the  first  day  a  race  was  run  on 
foot,  in  which  each  of  the  runners  carried  a  lighted 
torch  in  his  hand,  which  they  exchanged  continually 
with  each  other,  without  interrupting  the  race.  They 
started  from  the  Ceramicus,  one  of  the  suburbs  of 
Athens,  and  crossed  the  whole  city.  The  first  that 
came  to  the  goal,  without  having  put  out  his  torch, 
carried  the  prize.  In  the  afternoon  they  ran  the  same 
course  on  horseback. 

The  gymnastic  or  athletic  combats  followed  the 
races.  The  nlace  for  that  exercise  was  upon  the 
banks  of  the  liissus.a  small  river,  which  runs  through 
Athens  and  empties  itself  in  the  sea  at  the  Piraeus. 

Pericles  first  instituted  the  prize  of  music.  In  this 
dispute  were  sung  the  praises  of  Harmoilius  and  Aris- 
tnir'iltin,  who,  at  the  expense  of  their  lives,  delivered 
Athens  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Pisistratidae;  to  which 
was  afterwards  added  the  eulogiuni  of  Thrasybulus, 
who  expelled  the  thirty  tyrants.  The  prize  was 
warmly  disputed,  not  only  amongst  the  musicians  but 
still  more  so  among  the  poets;  and  it  was  highly 
glorious  to  be  declared  victor  in  this  contest.  jEsc.hy- 
liis  is  reported  to  have  died  with  grief  upon  reeingthe 
prize  adjudged  to  Sophocles,  who  was  much  younger 
than  himself. 

These  exercises  were  followed  by  a  general  pro- 
cession, wherein  was  carried  with  great  pomp  and 
ceremony,  a  sail,  embroidered  with  gold,  on  which 
were  curiously  delineated  the  warlike  actions  of 
Pallas  against  the  Titans  and  Giants.  This  sail  was 
allixed  to  a  vessel,  which  bore  the  name  of  the  sod- 
cless.  The  vessel,  equipped  with  sails,  and  with  a 
thousand  oars,  was  conducted  from  the  Ceramicus  to 
the  temple  of  Kleusis,  not  by  horses  or  beasts  of 
draught,  but  by  machines  concealed  in  the  bottom  of 
it,  which  put  the  oars  in  motion,  and  made  the  vessel 
glide  along. 

The  march  was  solemn  and  majestic.  At  the  head 
of  it  were  old  men  who  carried  ofive  branches  in  their 
hands,  $*x\o9Jf  91  ;  and  these  were  chosen  for  the  sym- 
metry of  their  shape,  and  the  vigour  of  their  com- 
plexion. Athenian  matrons  of  great  age,  also  ac- 
companied them  in  the  same  equipage. 

The  grown  and  robust  men  formed  the  second  class. 
They  were  armed  at  all  points,  and  had  bucklers  and 
V»nces.  After  them  came  the  strangers  that  inhabited 
Athens,  carrying  mattocks,  instruments  proper  for 
tillage.  Next  followed  the  Athenian  women  of  the 
tame  age,  attended  by  the  foreigners  of  their  own  sex, 
tarrying  vessel*  in  their  hands  for  the  drawing  of 
water. 

The  third  class  was  composed  of  the  voung  persons 
of  both  sexes,  selected  from  tTie  best  families  in  the 
city.  The  young  men  wore  vests,  with  crowns  upon 
their  heads,  and  sang  a  peculiar  hymn  in  honour  of 
the  goddess.  The  maids  carried  baskets,  nav*;^ o>,  in 
which  were  placed  the  sacred  utensils  proper  to  the 
ceremony,  covered  with  veils,  to  keep  them  from  the 
light  of  the  spectators.  The  person  to  whose  care 


those  sacred  things  were  intrusted,  was  bound  to  ob- 
serve a  strict  continence  for  several  days  before  he 
touched  them,  or  distributed  them  to  the  Athenian 
virgins;'  or  ralher,  as  Demosthenes  says,  hi*  whole 
lile  and  conduct  ought  to  have  been  a  perfect  model 
of  virtue  and  purity.  It  was  a  high  honour  for  a  young 
woman  to  be  chosen  for  so  noble  and  august  an  omct 
and  an  insupportable  aH'ront  to  be  deemrd  unworlh} 
of  it.  We  shall  see  that  Hipparchus  ottered  this  in- 
dignity to  the  sister  of  Hannodius,  which  <xtremely 
incensed  the  conspirators  against  the  PinbtmtkUl 
These  Athenian  virgins  were  followed  by  the  foreign 
young  women,  who  carried  umbrellas  and  seats  foi 
them. 

The  children  of  both  sexes  closed  the  pomp  of  th« 
procession. 

In  this  august  ceremony,  the  'f  a^»Joi  were  appointed 
to  sing  certain  verses  ol  Homer;  a  manifest  proof  ot 
the.  estimation  in  which  the  works  of  that  poet  were 
held,  even  with  regard  to  religion.  Hipparchus,  son 
of  Pisistratus,  first  introduced  that  custom. 

I  have  observed  elsewhere,-*  that  in  the  gymnastic 
games  of  this  feast,  a  herald  proclaimed,  that  the  peo- 
ple of  Athens  had  conferred  a  crown  of  gold  upon  the 
celebrated  physician  Hippocrates,  in  gratitude  lor  the 
signal  services  which  he  had  rendered  the  slate  during 

L 

the  pestilence. 

In  this  festival  the  people  of  Athens  put  themselres, 
and  the  whole  republic,  under  the  protection  of  Mi 
nerva,  the  tutelary  goddess  of  their  citv,  and  implor- 
ed of  her  all  kind  of  prosperity.  From  the  time  of 
the  battle  of  Marathon,  in  these  public  acts  of  wor- 
ship, express  mention  was  made  of  the  Platreans,  and 
they  were  joined  in  all  things  with  the  people  of 
Athens. 

Feasts  of  Bacchus. 

The  worship  of  Bacchus  had  been  brought  out  of 
Egypt  to  Athens,  where  several  feasts  had  been 
established  in  honour  of  the  god;  two  particularly 
more  remarkable  than  all  the  rest,  called  the  great  nod 
the  less  feasts  of  Bacchus.  The  latter  were  a  kind 
of  preparation  for  the  former,  and  were  celebrated  in 
the  open  field  about  autumn.  They  were  named  Le- 
n:ea,  from  a  Greek  word4  that  signifies  a  wine-press. 
The  great  priests  were  commonly  called  Dionysia, 
from  one  of  the  names  of  that  god,5  and  were  so- 
lemnized in  the  spring  within  the  city. 

In  each  of  these  feasts  the  public  were  entertained 
with  games,  shows,  and  dramatic  representations, 
which  were  attendee!  with  a  vast  concourse  of  people, 
and  exceeding  magnificence,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter: 
at  the  same  time  the  poets  disputed  the  prize  of  poetry, 
submitting  to  the  judgment  of  arbitrators  expressly- 
chosen  for  that  purpose,  their  pieces,  whether  tragic, 
or  comic,  which  were  then  represented  before  the 
people. 

These  feasts  continued  many  days.  Those  who 
were  initialed,  mimicked  whatever  the  poets  had 
thought  fit  to  feign  of  the  god  Bacchus.  They  covered 
themselves  with  the  skins  of  wild  beasts,  carried  a 
thyrsus  in  their  hands,  a  kind  of  pike  with  ivy-leaves 
twisted  around  it;  had  drums,  horns,  pipes,  and  other 
instruments  calculated  to  make  a  great  noise;  and 
wore  upon  their  heads,  wreaths  of  ivy  and  vine 
branches,  and  of  other  trees  sacred  to  Bacchus.  Some 
represented  Silenus,  some  Pan,  others  the  Satyrs,  all 
dressed  in  suitable  masquerade.  Many  of  them  were 
mounted  on  asses;  others  dragged  '  goats  along  for 
sacrifices.  Men  and  women,  ridiculously  dressed  in 
this  manner,  appeared  night  and  clay  in  public;  and 
imitating  drunkenness,  and  dancing  with  the  most  in- 
decent gestures,  ran  in  throngs  about  the  mountains 
and  forests,  screaming  and  howling  furiously;  the 
women  especially  seemed  more  outrageous  than  the 
men;  and,  quite  out  of  their  senses,  in  their  furious7 
transports  invoked  the  god,  whose  feasts  they  celebra- 


. 

T-V  iiiv  «>.o»'li>-mi«i»a<.   Dcmnst.  in  cztrcma  Ari.«i<xTntia. 

t  Pa»n3!>«).  *  Ai-»-:<.  *  Dinnyniut. 

•  Goats  wnro  snrrifirnl,  Ix'caunc  they  spoiled  llio  vine*. 

'   From  tlii*  fury  of  llio    Rorrhanalinns  thr«o  (Vast*  wrr 
clistinguislird  liy  the  name  of  Orgin.     'Of;  r  ,ira,  furor 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


417 


ted  with  loud  cries;  ivof  Bi«x«,  « ''»«x«,  or 'i;/£»»xi» 
»»r'i«  Bi,cx'. 

This  Iroop  of  Bacchanalians  was  followed  by  the 
virgins  of  the  noblest  families  in  the  city,  who  were 
called  «*v*cc<9<.  from  carrying  baskets  on  their  heads, 
covered  ivith  vii.e  leaves  ami  iw  . 

To  these  ceremonies  others  were  added,  obscene  to 
the  last  excess,  and  worthy  of  the  god  who  chose  to 
be  honoured  in  such  a  manner.  The  spectators  gave 
in  to  the  prevailing  humour,  and  were  seized  with  the 
lame  frantic,  spirit.  Nothing  was  seen  but  dancing, 
drunkenness,  debauchery,  and  all  that  the  most 
abandoned  licentiousness  can  conceive  of  gross  and 
abominable.  And  this  an  entire  people,  reputed  the 
wisest  of  all  Greece,  not  only  suffered,  but  admired 
and  practised; — I  say  an  entire  people,  for  Plato,1 
•peaking  of  the  Sacchanalia,  says  in  direct  terms,  that 
he  had  s.-en  the  whole  city  of  Athens  drunk  at  once. 

Livy*  informs  us,  that  this  licentiousness  of  the 
Bacchanalia  having  secretly  crepl  into  Rome,  the  most 
horrid  disorders  were  committed  there  under  cover  of 
the  night,  and  the  inviolable  secrecy  which  nil  persons 
who  were  initiated  into  these  impure  and  abominable 
mysteries,  were  obliged,  under  the  most  horrid  impre- 
cations, to  observe.  The  senate,  being  apprized  of 
this  uri'iiir,  put  a  stop  to  those  sacrilegious  feasts  by 
the  most  severe  penalties;  and  first  banished  the 
practisei-s  of  them  from  Rome,  and  afterwards  from 
Italy.  These  examples  inform  us,3  how  far  a  mis- 
taken sense  of  religion,  that  covers  the  greatest  crimes 
with  the  sacred  name  of  the  Divinit),  is  capable  of 
misleading  the  mind  of  man. 

The  Feasts  of  Elevsis. 

There  is  not!. ing  in  all  Pagan  antiquity  more  cele- 
brated than  the  feast  of  Ceres  Kleusina.  The  cere- 
monies of  this  festival  were  called  by  way  of  eminence 
the  mytttritt,  from  being,  according  to  Pausanias,  as 
much  above  all  others,  as  the  gods  are  above  men. 
Their  origin  and  institution  are  attributed  to  Ceres 
herself,  who,  in  the  reign  of  F.rechtheus,  coming  to 
Kleu-is,  a  small  town  of  Attica,  in  search  of  her 
daughter  Proserpine,  whom  Pluto  had  carried  away, 
and  finding  the  country  afflicted  with  a  famine,  in- 
vented corn  as  a  remedy  for  that  evil,  with  which  she 
rewarded  the  inhabitant?.  She*  not  only  taught  them 
the  u?e  of  corn,  but  instructed  them  in  the  principles 
of  probity,  charity,  civility,  and  humanity;  from 
whence  her  mysteries  were  called  iiff,:  ?-(lli,  and 
Initia..  To  thtse  first  happy  lessons  fabulous  anti- 
quity ascribed  the  courtesy,  politeness,  and  urbanity, 
»o  remarkable  among  the  Athenians. 

These  mysteries-  were  divided  into  the  less  and  the 
preater;  of  which  the  former  served  as  a  preparation 
lor  the  latter.  The  legs  were  solemnized  in  the  month 
of  Anthesterion.  which  answers  to  our  November;  the 
great  in  the  month  Boedromion,  which  corresponds  to 
August.—  Onlv  Athenians  were  admitted  to  these  mys- 
UnY-;  but  of  them,  each  sex,  age,  and  condition,  had 
a  right  io  be  received.  All  strangers  were  absolutely 
excluded,  so  that  Hercules,  Castor  and  Pollux,  were 
obliged  to  be  adopted  as  Athenians  in  order  to  their 
admi-nion:  which,  however,  extended  only  to  the 
lesser  masteries.  I  shall  consider  principally  the  great, 
which  were  celebrated  at  F.leusis. 

Those  who  demanded  to  be  initiated    into  then) 


I  nira.  idxiri^,,  -,),,  wlKiv  ait  i  T*  A<ory<r>«  ftKtvrm,. 

Lib.  i.  HP  iff  p  r>:t7. 

•  l.iv.  I.  xxxix.  n.  8.  18. 

»   Nilnl  in   .«|*-rirm  fallacies  e«t  quam   pravn   rrlijrio.  ubi 
iron. in  nuinen  |<r»-irndii ur  pc"liTibuf>. —  I.iv.  xxxix   n.  16. 

•  Mulla  C'xiinin  divinaijue  vitlmiur  Athene  IDS?  prperifw. 
tli] tie   in   vitani   hominum  attulisfp;  lum  niliil  mrliu*  illic 
nyfti'riis.  qiiilnispx  ngresti  immnniijue  vila  oxrulii  ad  tiu- 
nanitntpm  i-t    iniiizuji  sumos   initiaque  et  appellantur.  ita 
If    vor.-i    principiu    »lt*    cogoovimus.     Cie.  I.   ii.  de  Lef. 
a.  X. 

Teqye  Cere*,  et  Libera.  quarum  facra,  »icut  opinionen 
hominum  &c  religion?*  ferunt,  lonye  nmximis  atque  occul- 
tinsinus  ceiemontis  contineutur :  a  qnibu*  inilia  vilKt  ntqup 
virtus.  le?um.  morum,  mansnetudinis,  hnmanitati*  exempla 
hominibus  et  riviiatibn«  flnia  ac  duprrtita  e$«e  dicuntur. — 
Id.  Cic.  in  ytrr.dt  Svffiie.  n.  18C. 
Vol.  1-53. 


were  obliged,  before  their  reception,  to  purify  them 
stive*  in  the  lesser  mysteries',  by  bathing  in  the  river 
llissus,  by  saying  certain  prayers,  ottering  sacrifice*, 
and,  above  all,  by  living  in  strict  continence  during  « 
certain  interval  of  time  prescribed  them.  That  time 
was  employed  in  instructing  them  in  the  principles 
and  eleme'nts  of  the  sacred  doctrine  of  the  great 
mysteries. 

When  thetiniefortheir  initiation  arrived,  they  were 
brought  into  the  temple;  and  to  inspire  the  greater 
reverence  and  terror,  the  ceremony  was  performed  in 
the  night.  Wonderful  things  took  place  upon  this 
occasion.  Visions  were  seen,  and  voices  heard  of  ao 
extraordinary  kind.  A  sudden  splendour  disptlltd 
the  darkness  of  the  place,  and  disappearing  immedia 
ately,  added  new  horrors  to  the  gloom.  Apparitions, 
claps  of  thunder,  earthquakes,  heightened  the  terror 
and  amazement;  whilst  the  person  to  be  admitted 
overwhi lined  with  dread,  and  sweating  through  fear, 
heard,  trembling,  the  mysterious  volume  read  to  him. 
if  in  such  a  condition  he  was  capable  of  hearing  at  all. 
These  nocturnal  rites  gave  birth  to  many  disorders, 
which  the  severe  law  ofVilence  imposed  on  the  persons 
initiated,  prevented  from  coming  to  light,  as  St.  Gre- 
gory Nazimizen  observes.*  What  cannot  superstition 
effect  upon  the  mind  of  man,  when  once  his  imagina- 
tion is  heated?  The  president  in  this  ceremony  was 
called  Hierophantes.  He  wore  a  peculiar  habit,  and 
was  not  permitted  to  marry.  The  first  who  served  ia 
this  function,  and  whom  Ceres  herself  instructed,  wa» 
Enmolpus;  from  whom  his  successors  were  called  Ku- 
molpidae.  He  had  three  colleagues;  one  who  carried 
a  torch;6  another  a  herald,"  whose  office  was  to  pro- 
nounce certain  mysterious  words;  and  a  third  to  at- 
tend at  the  altar. 

Besides  these  officers,  one  of  the  principal  magis- 
trates of  the  city  was  appointed  to  take  care  that  all 
the  ceremonies  of  this  feast  were  exactly  observed 
He  was  called  the  king,8  and  was  one  of  the  nine 
Archons.  His  business  was  to  offer  prayers  and  sa- 
crifices. The  people  gave  him  four  assistants,9  one 
chosen  from  the  family  of  the  Eumolpida?,  a  second 
from  that  of  the  Ceryces,  and  the  two  last  from  two 
other  families.  He  had  besides  ten  other  ministers  to 
assist  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  particu- 
larly in  offering  sacrifices,  from  whence  they  derived 
their  name.10 

The  Athenians  initiated  their  children  of  both  sex- 
es very  early  into  these  mysteries,  and  would  have 
thought  it  criminal  to  let  them  die  without  such  an 
advantage.  It  was  their  general  opinion,  that  this 
ceremony  was  an  engagement  to  lead  a  more  virtu- 
ous and  regular  life;  that  it  recommended  them  to 
the  peculiar  protection  of  the  goddesses  (Ceres  and 
Proserpine,)  to  whose  service  they  devoted  them- 
selves; and  procured  to  them  a  more  perfect  and 
certain  happiness  in  the  other  world ;  whilst,  on  the 
contrary,  such  as  had  not  been  initiated,  besides  the 
evils  they  had  to  apprehend  in  this  life,  were  doomed, 
after  their  descent  to  the  shades  below,  to  wallow 
eternally  in  dirt,  filth,  and  excrement.  Diogenes" 
the  Cynic  believed  nothing  of  the  matter,  and  when 
his  friends  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to  avoid  such 
a  misfortune,  by  being  initiated  before  his  death — 
"What, "said  he,  "shall  Agesilaus  and  Kpaminon- 
das  lie  amongst  mud  and  dung,  whilst  the  vilest  Athe- 
nian*, because  they  have  been  initiated,  possets  the 
most  distinguished  places  in  the  regions  of  the  bless- 
ed?" Socrates  was  not  more  credulous;  he  would 
not  be  initiated  into  these  mysteries  which  wn« 
perhaps  one  reason  that  rendered  hi*  icligion  suo- 
pectea. 

Without12  this  qualification,  none  were  admitted  to 
enter  the  temple  of  Ceres;  and  Livy  informs  us  of  two 
Acarnanians,  who,  having  followed  the  crowd  into  it 
upon  one  of  the  feast-days,  although  out  of  mi-take, 
and  with  no  ill  design,  were  both  put  to  death  without 


Oral  df  »acr.  lum. 


»«i  r.»»|j 


. 

u  Diog.  Laert.  I.  vi.  p.  380 
»»  Lir.  1.  xxxi.  n.  14. 


418 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


mercy.  It  was  also  a  capital  crime  to  divulge  the  se- 
crets and  masteries  of  this  feast.  Upon  this  account 
Diagoras  the  Melian  was  proscribed,  and  a  reward  set 
upon  his  head.  It  very  nearly  cost  the  poet  .£schylus 
his  life,  for  speaking  too  freely  of  it  in  some  of  his  tra- 
gedies. The  disgrace  of  Alcibiades  proceeded  from 
the  same  cause.  \Vhoever1  had  violated  this  secrecy, 
was  avoided  as  a  wretch  accursed  and  excommuni- 
cated. Pausanias,*  in  several  passages,  wherein  he 
mentions  the  temple  of  Eleusis,  and  the  ceremonies 
practised  there,  stops  short,  and  declares  he  cannot 
proceed,  because  he  had  been  forbidden  by  a  dream 
or  vision. 

This  feast,  the  most  celebrated  of  profane  antiquitv, 
was  of  nine  days'  continuance.  It  began  the  fifteenth 
of  the  month  Boedromion.  After  some  previous  cere- 
monies and  sacrifices  on  the  first  three  days,  upon  the 
fourth,  in  the  evening,  began  the  procession  of  (he 
Basket;  which  was  laid  upon  an  open  chariot  slowly 
drawn  by  oxen,3  and  followed  by  a  long  train  of  the 
Athenian  women.  They  all  carried  mysterious  bas- 
kets in  their  hands,  filled  with  several  things,  which 
they  took  great  care  to  conceal,  and  covered  with  a 
veil  of  purple.  This  ceremony  represented  the  basket 
into  which  Proserpine  put  the  flowers  she  was  gather- 
ing  when  Pluto  seized  and  carried  her  off 

The  fifth  day  was  called  the  day  of  the  Torchet;  be- 
cause at  night,  the  men  and  women  ran  about  with 
them  in  imitation  of  Ceres,  who  having  lighted  a  torch 
at  the  fire  of  mount  /Etna,  wandered  about  from  place 
to  place  in  search  of  her  daughter. 

The  sixth  was  the  most  famous  day  of  all.  It  was 
called  lacchus,  which  is  the  same  as  Bacchus,  the  son 
of  Jupiter  and  Ceres,  whose  statue  was  then  brought 
out  with  great  ceremony,  crowned  with  myrtle,  and 
holding  a  torch  in  its  hand.  The  procession  began  at 
the  Ceramicus,  and  passing  through  the  principal 
places  of  the  city,  continued  to  Eleusis.  The  way 
leading  to  it  was  called  the  sacred  way,  and  lay  across 
a  bridge  over  the  river  Cephisus.  This*  procession 
was  very  numerous,  and  generally  consisted  of  thirty 
thousand  persons.  The  temple  of  Eleusis,  where  it 
ended,  was  large  enough  to  contain  the  whole  of  this 
multitude:  and  Strabo5  says,  its  extent  was  equal  to 
that  of  the  theatres,  which  everybody  knows  were  ca- 
pable of  holding  a  much  greater  number  of  people. 
The  whole  way  re-echoed  with  the  sound  of  trumpets, 
clarions,  and  other  musical  instruments,  Hymns  were 
sung  in  honour  of  the  goddesses,  accompanied  with 
dancing,  and  other  extraordinary  marks  of  rejoicing. 
The  route  before  mentioned,  through  the  sacred  way, 
and  over  the  Cephisus,  was  the  usual  one:  but  after 
the  Lacedaemonians,  in  the  Peloponnesian  war,  had 
fortified  Decelia,  the  Athenians  were  obliged  to  make 
their  procession  by  sea,  till  Alcibiades  re-established 
the  ancient  custom. 

The  seventh  day  was  solemnized  by  games  and  ihf 
gymnastic  combats,  in  which  the  victor  was  awarded 
with  a  measure  of  barley ;  without  doubt  because  it 
wag  at  Eleusis  the  goddess  first  taught  tbe  method  of 
raising  that  grain,  and  the  use  of  it.  The  two  follow- 
ing days  were  employed  in  some  particular  ceremonies, 
neither  important  nor  remarkable. 

During  this  festival  it  was  prohibited,  under  very 
great  penalties,  to  arrest  any  person  whatsoever,  in 
order  to  their  being  imprisoned,  or  to  present  any  bill 
of  complaint  to  the  judges.  It  wag  regularly  celebra- 

i  Eslet  fidfli  tuta  nilentio 

Merrcs.     Vetabo,  qui  Cereris  sacrum 
Vulparit  arc-anas,  eub  l«<lfim 

Sic  trabihus,  fragilemve  mecum 
Solval  pha.vlum.  }[or.  Od.  Q.  lib.  iii. 

Safe  it  the  silent  tonpue,  which  none  ran  blame, 
Who  keeps  the  faithful  secret  merits  fame  : 
Beneath  onn  roof  ne'er  let  him  rest  with  me. 

Who  Ceres'  mysteries  reveals 
In  one  frail  bark  ne'er  let  us  put  to  ten, 

Nor  tempt  the  jarring  winds  with  spreading  tail*. 

•  Lib.  i.  p.  26,  and  71. 

•  Tardaque  Eleusinae  matris  volventia  ploostra. 

Virg.  Georg.  lib.  i.  ver.  103. 
The  Eleusinian  mother's  mystic  car, 
Slow  rolling 

•  Herod.  1.  viii.  c.  65.  •  Lib.  11.  p.  302 


ted  every  fifth  year,  that  is,  after  a  revolution  of  four 
years;  and  history  does  not  mention  that  it  was  rver 
interrupted,  except  upon  the  taking  of  Thebes  by 
Alexander  the  Great.6  The  Athenians,  who  were 
then  upon  the  point  of  celebrating  the  great  mysteries, 
were  so  much  affected  with  the  ruin  of  that  c'ity,  that 
they  could  not  resolve,  in  so  general  an  affliction,  to 
solemnize  a  festival  which  breathed  nothing  but  merri- 
ment and  rejoicing.  It7  was  continued  down  to  th« 
time  of  the  Christian  emperors.  Valentinian  would 
have  abolished  it,  if  Prwttxtatus,  the  proconsul  of 
Greece,  had  not  represented,  in  the  most  livtlv  and 
affecting  terms,  the  universal  sorrow  which  the  abro- 
gation of  that  feast  would  occasion  among  the  people; 
upon  which  it  was  suffered  to  subsist.  It  is  supposed 
to  have  been  finally  suppressed  by  Theodosius  the 
Great;  as  were  all  the  rest  of  the  Pagan  solemnities. 

Of  Anburies,  Oracles,  SfC. 

Nothing  is  more  frequently  mentioned  in  ancient 
history,  than  oracles,  auguries,  and  divinations.  No 
war  was  made,  or  colony  settled;  nothing  of  conse- 
quence  was  undertaken,  either  public  or  private,  with- 
out having  first  consulted  the  gods.  This  was  a  cus- 
tom universally  established  amongst  the  Egyptian. 
Assyrian,  Grecian,  and  Roman  nations;  which  is  no 
doubt  a  proof,  as  has  been  already  observed,  that  it 
was  derived  from  ancient  tradition,  and  that  it  had  its 
origin  in  ihe  religion  and  worship  of  the  true  Goa. 
It  is  not  indeed  to  be  questioned,  but  that  God, before 
the  deluge,  did  manifest  his  will  to  mankind,  in  dif- 
ferent methods,  as  he  has  since  done  to  his  people, 
sometimes  in  his  own  person  and  vt'ra  rnce,so::.eumei 
by  the  minstrv  of  angels,  or  of  prophets  inspired  by 
himself,  and  at  other  times  by  apparitions  or  in  dreams. 
When  the  descendants  of  Noah  dispersed  themselves 
into  different  regions,  they  carried  this  tradition  along 
with  them,  which  was  every  where  retained,  though 
altered  and  corrupted  by  the  darkness  and  ignorance 
of  idolatry.  None  of  the  ancients  have  insisted  mor* 
upon  the  necessity  of  consulting  the  gods  on  all  oc 
casions  by  auguries  and  oracles  than  Xenophon* 
and  he  founds  that  necessity,  as  I  have  more  than 
once  observed  elsewhere,  upon  a  principle  deduced 
from  the  most  refined  reason  and  discernment.  He 
represents,  in  several  places,  that  man  of  himself  it 
very  frequently  ignorant  of' what  is  advantageous  ot 
pernicious  to  him;  that,  far  from  being  capable  of 
penetrating  the  future,  the  present  itself  escapes  him: 
so  narrow  and  short-sighted  is  he  in  all  his  \  ie\vs,  that 
the  slightest  obstacles  can  frustrate  his  greatest  de- 
signs; that  the  Divinity  alone,  to  whom  all  ages  ar« 
present,  can  impart  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  future 
to  him:  that  no  other  being  has  power  to  facilitate  the 
success  of  his  enterprises;  and  that  it  is  reasonable 
to  believe  he  will  enlighten  and  protect  those,  who 
adore  him  with  the  purest  affection,  who  invoke  him 
at  all  times  with  greatest  constancy  and  fidelity,  and 
consult  him  with  most  sincerity  and  integrity. 

Of  Auguries. 

What  a  reproach  is  it  to  human  reason,  that  so  lu- 
minous a  principle  should  have  given  birth  to  the  ab- 
surd reasonings,  and  wretched  notions,  in  favour  of 
the  science  of  augurs  and  soothsayers,  and  been  th< 
occasion  of  espousing,  with  blind  devotion,  the  moft 
ridiculous  puerilities:  should  have  made  the  most  im- 
portant affairs  of  state  depend  upon  a  bird's  happen- 
ing to  sing  upon  the  right  or  left  hanil;  upon  the 
greediness  of  chicken?  in  pecking  thtir  grain;  (he  in- 
spection of  the  entrails  of  beast?:  the  liver's  being 
entire  and  in  good  condition,  which,  according  to 
them,  did  sometimes  entirely  disappear,  without  !t-av 
ing  any  trace  or  mark  of  its  having  ever  subsisted! 
To  these  superstitious  observances  may  be  added,  ac- 
cidental rencounters,  words  spoken  by  chance,  and 
afterwards  t.irned  into  good  or  fiad  presages:  fore- 
bodings, prodigies,  monsters,  eclipses,  comets;  every 
extraordinary  phenomenon, every  unforeseen  accident 
ith  an  infinity  of  chimeras  of  the  like  nature. 

Whence  could  it  happen,  that  so  many  yrenl  men 


•  Plut.  in.  rit.  Alex,  p  671. 


Zoxim    Hist.  1.  ir 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


419 


illustrious  generals,  able  politicians,  and  even  learned 
philosophers,  have  actually  given  in  to  such  absurd 
imaginations?  Plutarch,  in  particular,  so  estimable 
in  other  respects,  is  to  be  pitied  for  his  servile  observ- 
ance of  the  senseless  customs  of  the  Pagan  idolatry, 
and  his  ridiculous  credulity  in  dreams,  signs,  and  pro- 
digies. He1  tells  us  in  his  works,  that  he  abstained 
a  great  while  from  eating  eggs,  upon  account  of  a 
dream,  with  which  he  has  not  thought  fit  to  make  us 
farther  acquainted. 

The  wisest  of  the  Pagans  knew  well  how  to  ap- 
preciate the  art  of  divination,  ana  often  spoke  of  it  to 
each  other,  and  even  in  public,  with  the  utmost  con- 
tempt, and  in  a  manner  best  adapted  to  expose  its  ab- 
turdity.  The  grave  censor  Cato  was  of  opinion,  that 
one  soothsayer  could  not  look  at  another  without 
laughing.  Hannibal  was  amazed  at  the  simplicity  of 
Prusias,  whom  he  had  advised  to  give  battle,  upon 
his  being  diverted  from  it  by  the  inspection  of  the  en- 
trails of  a  victim.  "  What,"  said  he,  "  have  you  more 
confidence  in  the  liver  of  a  beast,  than  in  so  old  and 
experienced  a  captain  as  I  am?"  Marcellus,  who 
had  been  fixe  times  consul,  and  was  augur,  said,  that 
he  had  discovered  a  method  of  not  being  put  to  a 
stand  by  the  sinister  (light  of  birds,  which  was,  to 
keep  himself  close  shut  up  in  his  litter. 

Cicero  explains  himself  upon  the  subject  of  augu- 
ries without  ambiguity  or  reserve.  Nobody  was  more 
capable  of  speaking  pertinently  upon  it  than  himself 
(as  M.  Morin  observes  in  his  dissertation  upon  the 
came  subject.)  As  he  was  adopted  into  the  college 
of  augurs,  he  had  made  himself  acquainted  with  their 
most  abstruse  stcrets,  and  had  all  possible  opportuni- 
ty of  informing  himself  fully  in  (heir  science.  That 
he  did  so,  sufficiently  appears  from  the  two  books  he 
has  left  us  upon  divination,  in  which,  it  may  be  said, 
he  has  exhausted  the  subject.  In  the  second,  where- 
in he  refutes  his  brother  Quintus,  who  had  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  augurs,  he  combats  and  defeats  his 
false  reasonings  with  a  force,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  so  refined  and  delicate  a  raillery,  as  leaves  u« 
nothing  to  wish;  and  he  demonstrates  by  proof*, 
each  more  convincing  than  the  other,  the  falsiiy,  con- 
trariety, and  impossibility,  of  that  art.  But*  what  is 
Very  surprising,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  arguments,  he 
takes  occasion  to  blame  the  generals  and  magistrates, 
who  on  important  conjuncture*  had  contemned  the 
prognostics;  and  maintains,  that  the  use  of  them,  as 
great  an  abuse  as  it  was  in  his  own  opinion,  ought 
nevertheless  to  be  respected,  out  of  regard  to  reli- 
gion, and  the  prejudices  of  the  people. 

All  that  I  have  hitherto  said  tends  to  prove,  that 
Paganism  was  divided  into  two  sects,  almost  equally 
tnt-mies  of  leligion ;  the  one  by  their  superstitious  and 
blind  regard  for  auguries,  the  other  by  their  irreligious 
contempt  and  derision  of  them. 

The  pi'riciple  of  the  first,  founded  on  one  side  upon 
the  ignorance  and  weakness  of  man  in  the  affairs  of 
life,  and  on  the  other  upon  the  prescience  of  the  Divi- 
nity, and  his  almighty  providence,  was  true;  but  the 
consequence  deduced  from  it  in  favour  of  auguries, 
false  and  absurd.  They  oaghl  to  have  proved  that  it 
was  certain,  that  the  Divinity  himself  had  established 
these  external  signs  to  d*i.ote  his  intention!,  and  that 
he  had  obliged  himself  to  a  punctual  conformity  to 
them  u pen  all  occasions:  but  they  had  nothing  of 
this  in  their  system.  These  utiguries  and  divinations 
therefore  were  the  effect  and  invention  of  the  ignor- 
ance, rashness,  curiosity,  and  hli<id  passions  of  man, 
who  presumed  to  interrogate  Cod,  and  to  oblige 
liim  to  give  answers  upon  every  Idle  imagination  and 
unju«t  enterprise. 

The  others,  who  gave  no  real  credit  to  any  thing  en- 
joined by  the  science  of  augury,  did  act  fail,  however, 

t  ?vmpoa.  lib.  ii.  Qi.w-t.  3.  p.  635. 

•  Krr.itmt  innltis  in  rebut)  antiquita*;  quam  vol  usn  jam, 
yeldoctrina,  vt-1  vetustate  immuiatam  videmus.  Relinetur 
autem  et  nd  opinioncm  vulgi,  et  ad  magnas  utilitates  rcip. 
m«s  rrli'io,  discipline,  jus  augurum,  collegii  auctnrita*. 
Nee  vor6  noli  omni  supplirio  dijini  V.  Claudiue,  L.  Junius 
consult'^,  qui  cnnlra  aucpicia  navigarunt.  Parendum  cnim 
fuit  religion!,  noc  palrius  mos  tarn  cuntumaci  ter  repudian- 
dus.  L>ir:n.  \.  ii.  n.  70,  71. 


to  observe  its  trivial  ceremonies  througn  policy,  i« 
older  the  better  to  subject  the  minds  of  the  people  to 
themselves,  and  to  reconcile  them  to  their  own  pur- 
poses, by  the  assistance  of  superstition:  but  by  their 
contempt  for  auguries,  and  their  inward  conviction  of 
their  falsity,  they  were  led  into  a  disbelief  of  the 
Divine  Providence,  and  to  despise  religion  itself;  con- 
ceiving it  inseparable  from  the  numerous  absurditiei 
of  this  kind,  which  rendered  it  ridiculous, and  conse 
quently  unworthy  a  man  of  sense. 

Both  the  one  and  the  other  behaved  in  this  manner, 
because,  having  mistaken  the  Creator,  and  abused 
the  light  of  Nature,  which  might  have  taught  them  to 
know  and  to  adore  him,  they  were  deservedly  aban- 
doned to  their  own  darkness,  and  to  a  reprobate 
mind;  and,  if  we  had  not  been  enlightened  by  the 
true  religion,  we,  even  at  this  day,  should  give  our- 
selves up  to  the  same  superstitions. 

Of  Oracles. 

No  country  was  ever  richer  in,  or  more  productive 
of,  oracles,  than  Greece.  I  thai)  confine  myself  to 
those  which  were  the  most  noted. 

The  oracle  of  Dodona,  a  city  of  the  Molossians,  in 
Epirus,  was  much  celebrated;  where  Jupiter  gave 
answers  either  by  vocal  oaks,3  or  doves,  which  had 
also  their  language,  or  by  resounding  basins  of  brass, 
or  by  the  mouths  of  priests  and  priestesses. 

The*  oracle  of  Trophonins  in  Bceotia,  though  he 
was  nothing  more  than  a  hero,  was  in  great  reputa- 
tion. After  many  preliminary  ceremonies, as  wa-liing 
in  the  river,  offering  sacrifices,  drinking  a  water  called 
Lethe,  from  its  quality  of  making  people  forget  every 
thing,  the  votaries  went  down  into  his  cave,  by  small 
ladders,  through  a  very  narrow  passage.  At  the 
bottom  was  another  little  cavern,  the  entrance  of 
which  was  also  exceeding  small.  There  they  lay 
down  upon  the  ground,  with  a  certain  composition  of 
honey  in  each  hand,  which  they  were  indispensably 
obliged  to  carry  with  them.  Their  feet  were  placed 
within  the  opening  of  the  little  cave;  which  was  no 
sooner  done,  than  they  perceived  themselves  born* 
into  it  with  great  force  and  velocity.  Futurity  was 
there  revealed  to  them ;  but  not  to  all  in  the  same  man- 
ner. Some  saw,  others  heard,  wonders.  From  thence 
they  returned  quite  stupified,  and  out  of  their  senses, 
and  were  placed  in  the  chair  of  Mnemosyne,  the 
goddess  of  memory;  not  without  great  need  of  her 
assistance  to  recover  their  remembrance,  after  their 
great  fatigue,  of  what  they  had  seen  and  heard ; 
admitting  they  had  seen  or  heard  any  thing  at  all. 
Pausanias,  who  had  consulted  that  oracle  himself, 
and  gone  through  all  these  ceremonies,  has  left  a 
most  ample  description  of  it;  to  which  Plutarch5  adds 
some  particular  circumstances,  which  I  omit,  to  avoid 
a  tedious  prolixity. 

The6  temple  and  oracle  of  the  BrBiichidse,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Miletus,  so  called  from  Branchus, 
the  son  of  Apollo,  was  very  ancient,  find  in  great  es- 
teem with  all  the  lonians  and  Dorians  of  Asia.  Xerxes, 
in  his  return  from  Greece,  burnt  this  temple,  alter  the 
priest*  had  delivered  its  treasures  to  him.  That-prince. 
in  return,  granted  them  an  establishment  in  the  remo- 
test partsof  Asia,  to  secure  them  against  the  vengeance 
of  the  Greeks.  After  the  wnrwas  over,  the  Mile>iani 
re-established  that  temple  witfl  a  magnificence  which, 
according  to  Strabo.  surpassed  that  of  all  the  other 
temples  of  Greece.  When  Alexander  the  Great  had 
overthrown  Darius,  he  utterly  destroyed  the  city  «  here 
the  priests  Branchidas  had  settled,  of  whi<  h  theirde- 
scendant*  were  at  that  time  in  actual  possession, 
punishing  in  the  children  the  sacrilegious  perfidy  of 
their  fathers. 


•  Certain  instruments  were  fattened  to  the  top*  of  oaki, 
which,  being  shaken  by  the  wind,  or  by  some  other  nieani, 
gave  a  ronfi.f^cl  found.     Servius  observes,  that    the  Fame 
word,  in  .the  The*«alian  language,  sii-nilies  rfore  and  pro- 
phetess, which  had  eiven  room  for  the  fahuloun  tradition  < 1 
dove*  that  spoke.     It  was  easy  to  irinke  thooe  brazen  basi  f 
round  by  some  secret  rm«ns.  and  to  give  what  iijmlicati  F 
they  plcnued  to  a  confused  and  itiariicu«te  noi«e. 

«  I'auMin.l.  ix.  p.  002.  WM. 

•  Plut.de  gen.  Sorr.  p.  .WO. 

•  Herod.  1   i.  c.  157     gtrab.  I.  X!T.  p.  634. 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Tacitus1  :-ei»tes  something-  very  singular,  though 
dot  very  probable,  el"  the  oracle  ol  Claros,  a  town  of 
Ionia,  i'n  A?ia  Minor,  ntar  Colophon.  ••  Germanicus," 
•ays  he,  "  went  to  consult  Apollo  at  Claros.  It  is  not 
a  woman  that  gives  the  answers  there,  as  at  Delphi, 
but  a  man,  chosen  out  of  certain  families,  and  almost 
•hva\>  of  Miletus.  It  is  sufficient  to  let  him  know 
the  number  and  names  of  those  who  come  to  consult 
him.  A  Her  which  he  retires  into  a  cave,  and  having 
drunk  of  the  waters  of  a  spring  within  it,  he  delivers 
answers  in  verse  upon  what  the  persons  have  in  their 
thoughts,  though  he  is  often  ignorant,  and  knows  no- 
thing of  composing  in  measure.  It  is  said,  that  he 
foretold  to  Germamcus  his  sudden  death,  but  in  dark 
and  ambiguous  terms,  accoiding  to  the  custom  of  ora- 
cles." 

I  omit  a  great  number  of  other  oracles,  to  proceed 
to  the  most  famous  of  them  all.  It  is  very  obvious, 
that  I  mean  the  oracle  of  Apollo  at  Delphi.  He  was 
worshipped  there  under  the  name  of  the  Pythian,  a 
title  derived  from  the  serpent  Python,  which  he  had 
killed,  or  from  a  Greek  word,  that  signifies  to  inquire, 
ir»jirj».,  because  people  came  thither  to  consult  him. 
From  thence  the  Dfclphic.  priestess  was  called  Pythia, 
and  the  games  there  celebrated,  the  Pythian  games. 

Delphi  was  an  ancient  city  of  Phucis  in  Achaia.  It 
i'ood  upon  the  declivity,  and  about  the  middle,  of  the 
mountain  Parnassus,  built  upon  a  small  extent  of  even 
ground,  and  surrounded  with  precipices,  that  fortified 
It  without  the  help  of  art.  Diodorus*  says,  that  there 
was  a  cavity  upon  Parnassus,  from  whence  an  exha- 
lation rose, "which  made  the  goats  dance  and  skip 
about,  and  intoxicated  the  brain.  A  shepherd  baring 
approached  it,  out  of  a  desire  to  know  the  causes  of  so 
extraordinary  an  effect,  was  immediately  seized  with 
violent  agitations  of  body,  and  pronounced  words, 
which,  without  doubt,  he  did  not  understand  himself; 
but  which,  however,  foretold  futurity.  Others  made 
the  same  experiment,  and  it  was  s»on  rumoured 
throughout  the  neighbouring  countries.  The  cavitj 
was  no  longer  approached  without  reverence.  The 
exhalation  was  concluded  to  have  something  divine  in 
it.  A  priestesi  was  appointed  for  the  reception  of  its 
effects,  and  a  tripod  placed  upon  the  vent,  called  by 
the  Latins,  Cortina,  perhaps  from  the  skin'  that  co- 
rered  it.  From  thence  she  gave  her  oracles.  The  city 
of  Delphi  rose  insensibly  round  about  this  rave;  and 
a  temple  was  erected,  which,  at  length,  became  very 
magnificent.  The  reputation  of  this  oracle  almost 
effaced,  or  at  least  very  much  exceeded,  that  of  all 
others. 

At  first  a  single  Pythia  sufficed  to  answer  those 
who  came  to  consult  the  oracle,  as  they  did  not  yet 
amount  to  any  great  number:  but  in  process  of  time, 
when  it  grew  into  universal  repute,  a  second  was  ap- 
pointed to  mount  the  tripod  alternately  with  the  first, 
and  a  third  chosen  to  succeed  in  case  of  death,  or  dis- 
ease. There  were  other  assistants  besides  these  to 
attend  the  Pythia  in  the  sanctuary,  of  whom  the  most 
considerable  were  culled  prophet*;4  it  was  their  busi- 
ness to  take  care  of  the  sacrifices,  and  to  inspect  them. 
To  these  the  demands  of  the  inquirer*  were  delivered 
by  word  of  mouth,  or  in  writing;  and  they  returned 
the  answers  as  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel. 

\Ve  must  not  confound  the  Pythiu  with  the  Sibyl 
of  Delphi.  The  ancients  represent  the  latter  as  a 
woman  that  roved  from  country  to  country,  venting 
her  predictions.  She  was  at  the  same  time  the 
Sibyl  of  Delphi,  Erythrne,  Babylon,  Cumne,  and  many 
Other  places,  from  her  having  resided  in  them  all. 

The  Pythia  could  not  prophesy  till  she  was  intoxi- 
cated bv  the  exhalation  from  the  sanctuary  of  Apollo'. 
This  miraculous  vapour  had  not  that  effect  at  all  times 
and  upon  all  occasions.  The  god  was  not  always  in 
the  inspiring  humour.  At  first  he  imparted  himself 
only  once  a  year,  but  at  length  he  was  prevailed  upon 
to  visit  the  Pythia  every  month.  All  days-were  not 
proper,  and  u|>on  some  it  was  not  permitted  to  consult 
the  oracle.  These  unfortunate  days  occasioned  an 
•racle's,  being  given  to  Alexander  the  Grtat  worthy 


I  Tacit.  Annal.  I  ii.  e  54 
Gorinm. 


«  Lib.  xi».  p.  477,  428 


of  remark.  He  went  to  Delphi  to  consult  the  irt^l.a 
a  time  when  the  priestess  pretended  it  was  IbrftidcicB 
to  ask  him  any  questions,  and  would  not  enter  th« 
temple.  Alexander,  who  was  always  warm  an;l  te- 
nacious, took  hold  of  her  by  the  arm  to  lorce  her  intfl 
it,  when  she  cried  out,  Ah,  my  son, you  are  not  lobt 
resisted!*  or,  ,Wy  sun,  you  are  invincible! — Upoa 
which  words  he  declared  he  vrould  have  no  oth- 
er oracle,  and  was  contented  with  that  he  had  re« 
ceived. 

The  Pythia,  before  she  ascended  the  tripod,  was  a 
long  time  preparing  for  it  by  sacrifices,  purifications, 
a  fast  of  three  days,  and  many  other  cerei..onies.  The 
god  denoted  his  approach  by  the  moving  of  a  laurel, 
that  stood  before  the  gate  of  the  temple,  which  shook 
also  to  its  very  foundations. 

As  soon*  as  the  divine  vapour,  like  a  penetrating 
fire,  had  diffused  itself  through  the  entrails  of  the 
priestess,  her  hair  stood  upright  upon  her  head,  her 
looks  grew  wild,  she  foamed  at  the  ni-uth,  a  sudden 
and  violent  trembling  seized  her  whole  body,  with  all 
the  symptoms  of  distraction  and  frenzy.7  She  uttered, 
at  intervals,  some  words  almost  inarticulate,  which 
the  prophets  carefully  collected,  and  arranged  with  a 
certain  decree  of  order  and  connection.  Alter  she  had 
been  a  certain  time  upon  the  tripod,  she  was  reccn- 
ducted  to  her  cell,  where  she  generally  continued 
many  days  to  recover  from  her  latigue;  and,  as  Lu- 
can  says,"8  a  sudden  death  was  often  either  the  reward 
or  punishment  of  her  enthusiasm: 

N'ummii  aut  pcena  est  mors  immatura  recepii, 
Aut  pretium. 

The  prophets  had  poets  under  them,  who  madeth* 
oracles  into  verse?,  which  were  often  bad  enough, 
and  gave  occasion  to  remark,  that  it  was  very  sur- 
prising, that  A|>ollo,  who  presided  over  the  choir  of 
the  muses,  should  inspire  his  priestess  no  better.  But 
Plutarch  informs  us  that  it  was  not  the  god  %vho  com- 
posed the  verses  of  the  oracle.  He  inflamed  the  P) - 
thia's  imagination,  and  kindled  in  her  soul  that  living 
light,  which  unveiled  all  futurity  to  her.  The  wordl 
*he  uttered  in  the  heat  of  her  enthusiasm,  having  nei- 
ther method  nor  connection,  and  coming  only  bj 
starts,  if  that  expression  may  be  used,  from  the  hot 
torn  of  her  stomach,  or  rather  from  her  belly,9  were 
collected  with  care  by  the  prophets,  who  gave  them 
afterwards  to  the  poets  to  be  turned  into  versa.  Thes« 
Apollo  left  to  their  own  genius  and  natural  talents; 
as  we  mav  suppose  he  did  the  Pythia  when  she  her- 
self composed  verses,  which,  though  not  often,  hap- 
pened sometimes.  The  substance  of  the  oracle  was 
inspired  by  Apollo,  the  manner  of  expressing  it  was 
the  priestess's  owu;  the  oracles  were  however  often 
given  in  prose. 

The  general  characteristics  of  oracles  were'°arubj- 


-Cui  talia  farti 


Ante  fores,  subito  nan  vulius,  non color  unu«. 
Nun  compile  mansere  corns::  sod  pertus  anlielam. 
El  rnhie  fern  card*  turnout  ;  mnjorr|iie  viduri. 
Nee  mortale  sonans  ;  alHata  est  numine  qunnclo 
Jam  propioro  dei.  Virg.  JE».  I.  vi.  v  46—51. 

*  Among  the  various  marks  which  GoH  has  given  uf  ra 
the  Scriptures   to  distinguish  his   ornol»s  from  those  of  th« 
deril.  the   fury  or  madne**.  attrihuted  by  Virril  to  the  Pj- 
thin,  el  rabit  fern  eorda  ttiment,  is  one.     It  it  I.  fait  i  Goj, 
that  sliow  the  I'ulsphood  of   the  diviner's   predictions,    and 
give  to  nuch  aa  divine,  the  motions  uf  fury  mil  madness  ; 
or,  according  to  In.  xliv.  25,  "  That  frustrate  I  h  the  tnkcnf 
of  the  liar,  and  maketh   diviners  mad."     Instpa'l  of  which, 
the  prophet?  of    the  true  God  constantly   give    the   divine 
answer*   in  an  equal  and   calm    tone  of  vciic-.  und  with  a 
noble   tranquillity    of  behaviour.       Another  distinguishing 
mark  is,  that  the  demons  gave  their  ornclc*  in  seiret  places, 
by-ways,    and    in   the    obscurity  of  caves  ;     whereat   God 
gave   hit   in  open  day,  and   before  all  the  world.     "  1  hnv» 
not  spoken  in  secret,  in  a  dark  place  of  the  earth,'*  Isa.  ilr. 
]<J. — "  I  have  not  spoken   in  necri-t  from  the  bejrinr.ing,"  Isa. 
xlriii.  16.     So  that  God  did  not  permit  the  devil  to  imita'« 
hid  oracles,  without  imposing  such  condition!   upon   him  mi 
might  distinguish  between  the  true  and  false  inspiration. 

•  Lib.  r  •  'E>y««T^i'.«i/Jo{. 
»•  Uuod  «i  aliqui*  dixerit  multa  ah  ido!i*  csse  pra-dicta 

hoc  cciendum,  qu&d  temper  mendacium  junxerint  veriutl 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


421 


gully,  obscurity,  and  convertibility,  (if  I  may  use 
that  expression,)  so  that  one  answer  would  agree 
with  several  various,  and  sometimes  directly  oppo- 
site, event?.  By  the  help  of  this  artifice,  the  de- 
mons, who  of  themselves  are  not  capable  01  knowing 
futuntv,  concealed  their  ignorance,  and  amused  the 
Credulity  of  the  pagan  world.  When  Croesus  was 
upon  the  point  of  invading  the  Medes,  he  consulted 
the  oracle,  of  Delphi  upon  the  success  of  that  war, 
and  was  answered,  that  by  passim/  the  river  Halvs, 
he  would  ruin  a  pi-eat  empire.  What  empire,  hi* 
own,  or  that  of  his  enemies?  He  was  to  gues*  that; 
but  whatever  the  events  might  be,  the  oracle  could 
not  lail  of  being  in  the  right.  As  much  may  be  said 
nj.on  the  same  god's  answer  to  Pyrrhus: 

Aio  te,  .-Kaciila,  Romano*  vincere  poue. 

I  repent  it  in  Latin,  because  the  equivocality,  which 
equally  implies,  that  Pyrrhus  could  conquer  the  Hu- 
man-, and  the  Roman;  Pyrrhus,  will  not  subsist  in  a 
translation.  Under  the  cover  of  such  ambiguities, 
the  god  eluded  all  difficulties,  and  was  never  in  the 
wrong. 

It  must,  however,  be  confessed,  that  sometimes  the 
answer  of  the  oracle  was  clear  and  circumstantial.  1 
have  related,  in  the  history  of  Croesus,  the  stratagem 
he  made  use  of  to  assure  himself  of  the  veracity  ol 
the  orarle,  which  was,  to  demand  of  it,  bv  his  ambas- 
sador, what  he  was  doing  at  a  certain  time  prefixed. 
The  oracle  of  Delphi  replied  in  verse,  that  he  was 
causing  a  tortoise  and  a  lamb  to  be  dressed  in  a  vessel 
of  brass,  which  was  really  the  case.  The  emperor 
Trajan  '  made  a  similar  trial  of  the  god  at  Heliopolis, 
In  -i  uniiii;  him  a  letter2  sealed  up,  to  which  he  de- 
manded an  answer.  The  oracle  made  no  other  re- 
turn, than  to  command  a  blank  paper,  well  folded 
led,  to  be  delivered  to  him.  Trajan,  upon  the 
receipt  of  it.  was  struck  with  amazement  to  see  an 
Biisucr  so  correspondent  with  his  own  letter,  in  which 
he  knew  he  had  written  nothing.  The  wonderful3 
facility  with  which  demons  can  transfer  themselves 
almost  in  an  instant  from  place  to  place,  made  it  not 
impossible  for  them  to  give  the  two  answers  which 
I  have  last  menti.  ned,  and  to  foretell  in  one  country, 
what  they  had  teen  in  another:  this  is  Tertullian'i 
opinion. 

Admitting  it  to  be  true,  that  some  oracles  have 
been  followed  precisely  by  the  event?  foretold,  we 
nay  btlieve.  that  God,  to  punish  the  blind  and  sacri- 
•  credulity  of  the  Pagans,  has  sometimes  per- 
mitted the  demons  to  have  a  knowledge  of  things  to 
come, and  to  foretell  them  distinctly  enough.  Which 
conduct  of  God,  though  very  much  above  humr.n 
comprehension,  is  frequently  attested  in  the  holy 
Scriptures. 

It  has  been  questioned,  whether  the  oracles,  men- 
tioned i;i  profane  history,  should  be  ascribed  to  the 
operations  of  demons,  or  onlv  to  the  wickedness  and 
inipo-tnre  of  men  Vanda.c-,  a  Dutch  physician,  has 
maintained  the  latter  opinion ;  and  Monsieur  r'onte- 
neile,  when  a  young  man,  adopted  it,  in  the  persua- 
sion (to  use  his  own  words)  that  it  was  indifferent,  as 
to  the  truth  ol  Christianity,  whether  the  oracles  were 
the  <  tied  of  the  agency  of  spirits,  or  a  series  of  im- 
postures. Father  Baitus,  the  Jesuit,  professor  of  the 
Holv  Scriptures  in  the  university  of  Slrasburgh,  has 
refuted  them  both  in  a  very  solid  treatise,  wherein 
he  <!(  nionstraU  s.  invincibly,  from  the  unanimous 
authority  of  the  Fathers,  that  demons  were  the  leal 


et  tir  fcntonlin*  temperarint,  ut,  §PO  bnni  tea  mail  quid 
tcri<li;*et,  utrumquu  (kiwi  l  intellizi. —  l/ieront/m.  in  cap. 
ihi  I-:UJB.  He  cite*  the  two  example*  of  Croenu  and 
Pyrrhus. 

i   Macro)).  I.  i.  Saturnal.c.  xxiii. 

*  One  mi-thod  of  consulting  ihr  oracle  wai  by  waled  let- 
ters, which  wore  laid  upon  the  aliar  of  the  pod  unowned. 

«  Omni*  k|'lrilun  alen.  Hue  et  anpeli  et  da-mone*.  lei- 
tur  mnmento  ubiijue  tuiit ;  lotus  orhi*  illi«  lorui  unu>  est: 
quid  uln  L't-ratur  lam  facile  eciunt.  quam  enuntiant.  Veto- 
eitas  iliviniiati*  crcditur,  quia  8ub«t«ntia  ipnoiaiur. — CaMe- 
riicn  ti'siudirirni  di-niijui  rum  carnibus  pecudU  I'vlhiim  eu 
modo  renunciavit,  quo  Kupra  duimus.  Momcnto  apud  Ly- 
(JiJDi  fucrat.  Tertv.ll.  in  Jipolog. 


agents  in  the  oracles.  He  attacks,  with  equal  force 
and  success,  the  rashness  and  presumption  of  the 
Anabaptist  physician;  who,  calling  in  question  the 
capacity  and  discernment  of  those  holy  doctors,  se- 
crctlv  endeavoured  to  efface  the  high  idea  all  true 
believers  should  entertain  of  those  great  leaders  of 
the  church,  and  to  depreciate  their  venerable  author- 
ity, which  is  to  great  a  difficulty  to  all  who  de- 
viate from  the  principles  of  ancient  tradition.  Aow, 
if  that  was  ever  certain  and  uniform  in  any  thing, 
it  is  so  in  this  point;  for  all  the  Fathers  of  the 
church,  and  ecclesiastical  writers  of  all  ages,  main- 
tain, and  attest,  that  the  devil  was  the  author  of  idol* 
atry  in  general,  and  of  oracles  in  particular. 

This  opinion  does  not  hinder  our  believing  that 
the  priests  and  priestesses  were  frequently  guilty  of 
fraud  and  imposture  in  the  answers  of  the  oracles. 
For  is  not  the  devil  the  father  and  prince  of  lies? 
In  the  Grecian  history,  we  have  seen  more  than  on-e 
the  Delphic  priestess  sutler  herself  to  be  corrupted  by 
presents.  It  was  from  that  motive,  she  persuaded  the 
Lacedaemonians  to  assist  the  people  of  Athens  in  the 
expulsion  of  the  thirty  tyrants;  that  she  caused  De- 
maralus  to  be  divested  of  the  royal  dignity,  to  make 
way  for  Cleomenes;  and  dressed  up  an  oracle  to  sup- 
port the  imposture  of  Lvsander,  when  he  endeavoured 
to  change  the  succession  to  the  throne  of  Sparta. 
And  I  am  apt  to  believe  that  Themistocles,  who  well 
knew  the  importance  of  acting  against  the  Persian* 
bv  sea,  inspired  the  god  with  the  answer  he  gave,  to 
dtftnd  themselves  ivilh  wooden  walls.  Demosthenes,* 
convinced  that  the  oracles  were  frequently  suggested 
by  passion  or  interest,  and  suspecting,  with  reason, 
that  Philip  had  instructed  them  to  speak  in  his  favour 
bokilv  declared,  that  the  Vyibiaphilippized:  and- bade 
the  Athenians  and  Thebans  remember  that  i'cricle* 
and  F.paminondas.  instead  of  listening  to,  and  amus- 
ing themselves  with,  the  frivolous  answers  of  the  ora- 
cle, those  idle  bugbears  of  the  base  and  cowardly 
consulted  only  reason  in  the  choice  and  execution  of 
their  measures. 

The  same  Father  Baitus  examines,  with  equal  suc- 
cess, a  second  point  in  dispute,  namely,  the  cessation 
of  oracles.  Mr.  Vandale,  to  oppose  with  some  ad- 
vantage a  truth  so  glorious  to  Jesus  Christ,  the  sub- 
verier  of  idolatry,  had  falsified  the  sense  of  the  Fa- 
thers, by  making  them  say,  that  oracles  ceated precise- 
ly at  the  moment  of  Christ's  birth.  The  learned  apo- 
logist forthe  Fathers  shows,  that  thev  all  allege  that  or- 
acles  ceased  after  our  Saviour's  birth,  and  the  preach- 
ing of  his  gospel;  not  on  a  sudden,  but  in  proportion 
as  his  salutary  doctrines  became  known  to  mankind, 
and  gained  ground  in  the  world.  This  unanimous 
opinion  of  the  Fathers  is  confirmed  by  the  unexcep- 
tionable evidence  of  great  numbers  of  the  Pagan*, 
who  agree  with  them  as  to  the  time  when  the  oracle* 
ceased. 

What  an  honour  to  the  Christian  religion  was  thi* 
silence  imposed  upon  the  oracles  by  the  victory  of 
Je-us  Christ!  F.very  Christian  had  this  powt r.  Ter- 
tullian,*  in  one  of  his  apologies,  challenges  the  Pagan* 
to  make  the  experiment,  and  consents  that  a  Christian 
should  be  put  to  death,  if  he  did  not  oblige  those  giv- 
ers of  oracles  to  confess  themselves  devil*.  Lactan- 
tins*  informs  us,  that  every  Christian  could  silence 
them  by  only  the  sign  of  the  cross.  And  all  the  world 
knows,  that"  when  Julian  the  A|>ostate  was  at  Daphne, 
a  suburb  of  Antioch,  to  consult  Apollo;  the  god, 
notwithstanding  all  the  sacrifices  offered  to  him,  con- 
tinued mule,  and  onlv  recovered  his  speech  to  an- 
swer those  who  inquired  the  cause  of  his  silence, 
that  thev  must  ascribe  it  to  the  interment  of  certain 
bodies  in  the  neighbourhood.  Those  were  the  bodie* 
of  Christian  martyrs,  amongst  which  was  that  of  St. 
Babt  las. 

This  triumph  of  the  Christian  religii  n  ought  to  give 
u«  a  Hue  sense  of  our  obligations  to  Jesus  Chr.M,  and 
at  the  same  time,  of  the  darkness  to  which  all  man- 
kind were  abandoned  before  his  coining.  We  have 


4  Plut.    in  Drmosth.  p.  £54. 

•  Tertnll.  in  A[nilo?. 

•  Lib.  de  vera  sapient,  c.  xiril 

2L 


422 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


teen,  amongst  the  Carthaginians,  fathers  '  and  mo- 
thers, more  crutl  than  wild  beasts,  inhumanly  giving 
up  their  children,  nnd  annually  depopulating  their 
cities,  by  destroying  the  most  vigorous  of  their  youth, 
in  obedience  to  the  bloody  dictates  of  their  oracles  and 
false  gods.  The  victims  were  chosen  without  any  re- 
gard to  rank,  sex,  age,  or  condition.  Such  bloody 
execution!  were  honoured  with  the  name  of  sacrifi- 
ces, and  designed  to  make  the  gods  propitious. 
"  What  greater  evil,"  cries  Lactanlius,  "  could  they 
inflict  in  their  most  violent  displeasure,  than  thus  to 
deprive  their  adorers  of  all  sense  of  humanity,  to 
make  them  cut  the  throats  of  their  own  children,  and 
pollute  their  sacrilegious  hands  with  such  execrable 
parricides!" 

A  thousand  frauds  and  impostures,  openly  detected 
at  Delphi,  and  every  where  else,  had  not  opened  men's 
eves,  nor  in  the  least  diminished  the  credit  of  the  ora- 
cles; which  subsisted  upwards  of  two  thousand  years, 
and  was  carried  to  an  inconceivable  height,  even  in 
the  minds  of  the  greatest  men,  the  most  profound 

J philosophers,  the  most  powerful  princes,  and  general- 
y  among  the  most  civilized  nations,  and  such  as  val- 
ued themselves  most  upon  their  wisdom  and  policy. 
The  estimation  they  were  in,  may  be  judged  from  the 
magnificence  of  the  temple  of  Delphi,  and  the  im- 
mense riches  amassed  in  it  through  the  superstitious 
credulity  of  nations  and  monarchs. 

The  2  temple  of  Delphi  having  been  burnt  about 
the  fifty-eighth  Olympiad, the  Amphictyons,  those  ce- 
lebrated judges  ot  Greece,  took  upon  themselves  the 
care  of  rebuilding  it.  They  agreed  with  an  architect 
for  300  talents,  which  amounts  to  900.000  livres.*  The 
cities  of  Greece  were  to  furnish  that  sum.  The  inha- 
bitants of  Delphi  were  taxed  a  fourth  part  of  it,  and 
collected  contributions  in  all  parts,  even  in  foreign 
nations,  for  that  service.  Amasis.at  that  time  king  of 
Egypt,  and  the  Grecian  inhabitants  of  his  country, 
contributed  considerable  sums  towards  it.  The  Alc- 
m;eonid<e,  a  potent  family  of  Athens  took  upon 
themselves  the  conduct  of  the  building,  and  made  it 
more  magnificent,  by  considerable  additions  of  their 
own,  than  had  been  proposed  in  the  model. 

Gyges,  king  of  Lydia,  and  Croesus  one  of  his 
successors,  enriched  the  temple  of  Delphi  with  an 
incredible  number  of  presents.  Many  other  princes, 
cities,  and  private  persons,  by  their  example,  in  a  kind 
of  emulation  of  each  other,  had  heaped  up  in  it  tri- 
pods, vases,  tables,  shields,  crowns,  chariots,  and  sta 
tues  of  gold  and  silver  of  all  sizes,  equally  infinite  ii 
number  and  value.  The  presents  of  gold  whici 
Croesus  alone  made  to  this  temple,  amounted,  accord- 
ing to  Herodotus,4  to  upwards  of  254  talents:  that 
is,  about  762,000  French  livres5  and  perhaps  those 
of  silver  to  as  much.  Most  of  these  presents  were  in 
being  at  the  time  of  Herodotus.  Diodorus6  Siculus, 
adding  those  of  other  princes  to  them,  makes  their 
amount  10,000  talents,  or  30,000,000  of  livres.7 

Amongst*  the  statues  of  gold,  consecrated  by 
Croesus  in  the  temple  of  Delphi,  was  placed  that  of 
his  female  linker,  the  occasion  of  which  was  this. 
Alyattes,  Croesus's  father,  having  married  a  second 
wife,  by  whom  he  had  children,  she  laid  a  plan  to  get 
rid  of  her  son-in-law,  that  the  crown  might  descend  to 
her  own  issue.  For  this  purpose  she  engaged  the 
female  baker  to  put  poison  into  a  loaf,  that  was  to  be 
served  at  the  young  prince's  table.  The  woman,  who 
was  struck  with  horror  at  the  crime  (in  which  she 

i  Tarn  barbarof,  tarn  immanes  fnisse  homines,  ul  par- 
ricidium  suum,  id  eft  letrum  atque  cxcrrabile  humano 
gnirii  facinui,  snrrificium  voraront.  (Turn  teneras  atque 
innoccntcs  animus,  quaj  maxim&  esl  ae'as  parcntihus  dul- 
cior,  sine  ullo  respoctu  pictatiacxtingucrent,  immanitatrm- 
que  omnium  besliarum.  qu»  tamen  top-ins  MUOS  amant  I'rri- 
tale  Mi|KTarcn!.  O  dememiam  iuxanabilem  !  Quid  ill-« 
i*ti  Hii  amplin*  farcrn  po8*ent  si  esi-ent  iratissimi,  quftm 
fac:unt  propilii  ?  Cum  MIOS  cultures  parrieidii*  inijuinant, 
orliiiMiiliug  mnctant,  humanis  scnsibus  gpoliunt.  Lactant 

i  r.  21. 

•  n.-rod.  I.  ii.  c.  IPO.  and  1.  v.c.  C2. 

•  About44,4-.!8J.  sterling. 

*  Herod.  I.  i.  c.  50,  51. 

i  About  33.5007.  •  Diod.  I.  xvi.  p.  453. 

*  About  1,300,000;.          •  Plut.  de  Pyth.  orac.  p.  401. 


ought  to  have  had  no  part  at  all,)  gave  Croesus  notice 
of  it.  The  poisoned  loaf  was  served  to  the  queen:* 
own  children,  and  their  death  secured  the  irown  to 
the  lawful  successor.  When  he  ascended  the  throne, 
in  gratitude  to  his  benefactress,  he  erected  a  statue 
to  her  in  the  temple'of  Delphi.  But,  it  may  be  said, 
could  a  person  of  so  mean  a  condition  deserve  so 
great  an  honour?  Plutarch  answers  in  the  aliinnative^ 
and  with  a  much  better  title,  he  says,  than  many  of 
the  so-much-vnunted  conquerors  and  heroes,  who 
have  acquired  their  fame  only  by  murder  and  cievas 
tation. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  such  immense 
riches  should  have  tempted  the  avarice  of  mankind, 
and  exposed  Delphi  to  being  frequently  pillaged. 
Without  mentioning  more  ancient  times, Xerxes,  who 
invaded  Greece  with  a  million  of  men,  endeavoured 
to  seize  upon  the  spoils  of  this  temple.  Above  a 
hundred  years  after,  the  Fhoceans,  near  neighbours 
of  Delphi,  plundered  it  at  several  times.  The  same 
rich  booty  was  the  sole  motive  of  the  irruption  of  the 
Gauls  into  Greece  under  Brennus.  Tlie  guardian 
god  of  Delphi,  if  we  niny  believe  historians,  sometimes 
defended  this  temple  by  surprising  prodigies;  and  at 
others,  cither  from  impotence  or  want  of  presence  of 
mind,  suffered  himself  to  be  plundered.  When  Nero 
made  this  temple,  so  famous  throughout  the  universe, 
a  visit,  and  found  in  it  five  hundred  brass  statue* 
of  illustrious  men  and  gods  to  his  liking,  which 
had  been  consecrated  to  Apollo  (those  of  gold  and 
silver  having  undoubtedly  disappeared  upon  his  ap- 
proach,) he  ordered  them  to  be  taken  down,  and  ship- 
ping them  on  board  his  vessels  carried  them  with  him 
to  Home. 

Those  who  are  desirous  of  more  particular  informa- 
tion concerning  the  oracles  and  riches  of  the  temple 
of  Delphi,  may  consult  some  dissertations  upon  this 
subject,  printed  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of 
Belles  Lettret,9  of  which  I  have  made  good  use,  ac- 
cording to  my  custom. 

Of  the  Gamtt  and  Combats. 

Games  and  combats  made  a  part  of  the  religion, 
and  had  a  share  in  almost  all  the  festivals,  of  the  an- 
cients; and  for  that  reason  it  is  oroper  that  they 
should  find  a  place  in  this  work.  Whether  we  con- 
sider their  origin,  or  the  design  of  their  institution, 
we  shall  not  be  surprised  at  their  being  so  prevalent 
in  the  best-governed  states. 

Hercules,  Theseus,  Castor  and  Pollux,  and  the 
greatest  heroes  of  antiquity,  were  not  only  the  institu- 
tes or  restorers  of  them,  but  thought  it  glorious  to 
snare  in  tlie  exercise  of  them,  and  meritorious  to  sue- 
ceeu  men-ill.  These  subduera  of  monsters,  and  of 
the  common  enemies  of  mankind,  thought  it  no  dis- 
grace to  them  to  aspire  to  the  victories  in  these  com- 
bats; nor  that  the  new  wreaths,  with  which  their 
brows  were  encircled  in  the  solemnization  of  these 
games,  detracted  from  the  lustre  of  those  they  had 
before  acquired.  Hence  the  most  famous  poets  made 
these  combats  the  subject  of  their  verses;  the  beauty 
of  whose  poetrv,  whilst  it  immortalized  themselves 
seemed  to  promise  an  eternity  of  fame  to  those  whose 
victories  it  celebrated.  Hence  arose  that  uncommon 
ardour  which  animated  all  Greece,  to  tread  in  Ilia 
steps  of  those  ancient  heroes,  and  like  them,  to  sig- 
nalize themselves  in  the  public  combats. 

A  reason  more  solid,  and  originating  in  the  very 
nature  of  these  combats,  and  of  the  people  who  used 
them,  may  be  given  for  their  prevalence.  The  Greeks, 
by  nature  warlike,  and  equally  intent  upon  forming 
the  bodies  and  minds  of  theiryouth,  introduced  these 
exercises,  and  annexed  honours  to  them,  in  order  to 
prepare  the  younsrer  sort  for  the  profession  of  arms,  to 
confirm  their  health,  to  render  them  stronger  and 
inore  robust,  to  inure  them  to  fatigues,  and  to  make 
them  intrepid  in  close  fight,  in  which,  the  use  of  fire- 
arms being  then  unknown,  strength  of  body  generally 
decided  the  victory.  These  athletic  exercises  sup- 
plied the  place  of  those  in  use  amongst  our  nobility,  ai 
dancing,  fencing,  riding  the  great  horse,  &c.;  but 


•  Vol.  iiL 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


423 


6ej  did  not  confine  themselves  to  a  graceful  mien, 
lor  to  the  beauties  of  a  shape  and  face;  they  were 
for  joining  strength  to  the  charms  of  person. 

It  is  true,  these  exercises,  so  illustrious  by  their 
founders,  and  so  useful  in  the  ends  at  first  proposed 
from  them,  introduced  public  masters,  who  taught 
them  to  young  persons,  and,  from  practising  them 
with  success,  made  public  show  and  ostentation  of 
theirskill.  This  sort  of  men  applied  themselves  solely 
to  the  practice  of  this  art,  and,  carrying  it  to  an  excess, 
they  formed  it  into  a  kind  of  science,  by  the  addition 
ol  rules  and  refinements;  often  challenging  each  other 
out  of  a  vain  emulation,  till  at  length  they  degene- 
rated into  a  profession  of  people  who,  without  any- 
other  employment  or  merit,  exhibited  themselves  as 

•  sight  for  the  diversion  of  the  public.     Our  dancing- 
masters  are.  not   unlike   them  in  this  respect,  whose 
natural  and  original  designation  was  to  teach  youth  a 
graceful  manner  of  walking,  and  a  good  address;  but 
now  we  see  them  mount  the  stage,  and  perform  bal- 
lets in  the  garb  of  comedians,    capering,  jumping, 
skipping,  and  making  a  variety  of  strange  unnatural 
motions.      We  shall  see,  in  the  sequel,  what  opinion 
the  wiser  among  the  ancients  had  of  their  professed 
combatants  and  wrestling-masters. 

There  were  four  games  solemnized  in  Greece.  The 
Olympic,  to  called  from  Olympia,  otherwise  Pisa,  a 
town  of  Elis  in  Peloponnesus,  near  which  they  were 
celebrated,  after  the  expiration  of  every  fouryears,  in 
honour  of  Jupiter  Olympicus.  The  Pythian,  sacred  to 
Apollo  Pythius,1  so  called  from  the  serpent  Python, 
killed  by  him;  they  were  celebrated  at  Delphi  every 
four  years.  The  JVern<enn,  which  took  their  name 
from  iVemasa,  a  city  and  forest  of  Peloponnesus,  and 
were  either  instituted  or  restored  by  Hercules,  after 
he  had  slain  the  lion  of  the  Nemaran  forest.  They 
were  solemnized  e\ery  two  years.  And  lastly,  the 
JsthniMn,  celebrated  upon  the  isthmus  of  Corinth,  eve- 
ry four  years,  in  honour  of  Neptune.  Theseus2  was 
the  restorer  of  them,  and  they  continued  even  alter 
the  ruin  of  Corinth.  That  persons  might  be  present 
at  these  public  sports  with  greater  quiet  and  security, 
there  was  a  general  suspension  of  arms,  and  cessation 
of  hostilities,  throughout  all  Greece,  during  the  time 
of  their  celebration. 

In  these  games,  which  were  solemnized  with  incre- 
dible magnificence,  and  drew  together  a  prodigious 
concourse  of  spectators  and  combatants  from  all  parts, 

•  simple  wreath  was  all  the  reward  of  the  victors.    In 
the  Olympic  game?,  it  was  composed  of  wild  olive; 
in  the   Pythian,  of  laurel;  in  the   Nenuean,  of  green 
parslej  ;*  and    in    the    Isthmian,  of    the    same  herb 
dried.     The  inititutors  of  these  games  wished  that  it 
should  be  implied  from  hence,  that  honour  alone,  and 
not  mean  and  sort  id  interest,  ought  to  be  the  motive 
of  great  actions.    Of  what  were  men  not  capable,  ac- 
rustomed  to  act   solely  from  so  glorious  a  principle! 
We4  have  seen,  in  the   Persian  war,  that  Tigranes, 
one  of  the  ino<t  considerable  captains  in  the  army  of 
Xerxes,  having  heard  the  prizes  in  the  Grecian  games 
described,   cried   out  with  astonishment,  addressing 
himstlf    to    Mardonius,  who    commanded    in    chief, 
"  Heavens!8  against  what   men   are  yon  leading  us? 
Insensible   to   interest,  they  combat  only  for  "lory!" 
Which  exclamation,  though  looked  upon  by  Xerxes 
as  an  effect  of  abject  fear,  abounds  with  sense  and 
judgment. 

It*  wa*  from  the  same  principle  that  the  Romans, 
whilst  they  bestowed  upon  other  occasions  crowns  of 
gold  of  great  value,  persisted  always  in  giving  only  a 
wreath  of  oaken  leaves  to  him  who  had  saved  the  life 
of  a  citizen.  "  O  manners,  worthy  of  eternal  remem- 
brance!" cried  Pliny,  in  relating  this  laudable  custom. 
"  O  grandeur,  truly  Roman,  that  would  assign  no 
other  reward  but  honour,  for  the  preservation  of  a  citi- 
ten  !  a  service,  indeed,  above  all  reward;  tlier»by 

i  Several  rraaonfl  are  given  for  this  name. 

•>  I'iinB.  I.  ii.  p.  $«.  •  Apium. 

4  Heritd.  1    viii.  c.  26. 


«plin.  lxri.e.1 


sufficiently  evincing  their  opinion,  that  it  was  criminal 
to  save  a  man's  life  from  the  motive  of  lucre  and  in 
tert  si !''  O  marts  ceternos,  qui  tanla  opera  honort 
solo  donaverint:  et  citm  rtliqiias  coronas  aura  com- 
mendarent,  salutem  civis  in pretio  esseiioltierint,  cla- 
rd  proftssione  servari  quidt.ui  homincm  nefas  esse  lu- 
cri  causa! 

Amongst  all  the  Grecian  games,  the  Olympic  held 
undeniably  the  first  rank;  and  that  for  three  reasons. 
They  were  sacred  to  Jupiter,  the  greatest  of  the  gods; 
instituted  by  Hercules,  the  first  of  the  heroes;  and 
celebrated  with  more  pomp  and  magnificence,  amidst 
a  greater  concourse  of  spectators  attracted  from  all 
parts,  than  any  of  the  rest. 

If  Pausanias  7  niay  be  believed,  women  were  pro- 
hibited to  be  present  .'.  them  upon  pain  of  death;  ana 
during  their  continuance,  it  was  ordained,  that  no 
woman  should  approach  the  place  where  the  games 
were  celebrated,  or  pass  on  that  side  of  the  river  Al- 
pheus.  One  only  was  so  bold  as  to  violate  this  law. 
and  slipped  in  disguise  amongst  those  who  were  train- 
ing the  wrestlers.  She  was  tried  for  the  offence,  and 
would  have  suffered  the  penalty  enacted  by  the  law, 
if  the  judges,  in  regard  to  her  lather,  her  brother,  and 
her  son,  who  had  all  been  victors  in  the  Olympic 
games,  had  not  pardoned  her  offence,  and  saved  her 
life. 

This  law  was  very  conformable  with  the  manners 
of  the  Greeks,  amongst  whom  the  ladies  were  very 
reserved,  seldom  appeared  in  public,  had  separate 
apartments  called  Gynacta  ,  and  never  ate  at  table 
with  the  men  when  strangers  were  present.  It  wa* 
certainly  inconsistent  with  decency  to  admit  them  at 
some  of  the  games,  as  those  of  wrestling  and  the 
Pancratium,  in  which  the  combatants  fought  naked. 

The  same  Pausanias8  tell*  us,  in  another  place, 
that  the  priestess  of  Ceres  had  an  honourable  seat  in 
these  games,  and  that  virgins  were  not  denied  the 
liberty  of  being  present  at  them.  For  mj  part,  I 
cannot  conceive  the  reason  of  such  inconsistency, 
which  indeed  seems  incredible. 

The  Greeks  thought  nothing  comparable  tc  the  vic- 
tory in  these  games.  They  looked  upon  it  as  che  per- 
fection of  glory,  and  did  not  believe  it  perm,  tied  to 
mortals  to  desire  any  thing  beyond  it.  Cicero9  as- 
sures us,  that  with  them  it  was  no  less  honourable 
than  the  consular  dignity  in  its  original  splendour 
with  the  ancient  Romans.  And  in  another  place  he 
says,  that  to  conquer  at  Olympia,10  was  almost,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  Grecians,  more  great  and  glorious, 
than  to  receive  the  honour  of  a  triumph  at  Rome. 
Horace  speaks  in  still  stronger  terms  of  this  kind  of 
victory.  He  is  not  afraid  to  say,"  that  it  emits  tht 
victor  above  /it/man  nature;  they  were  no  longer  men, 
but  gods. 

We  shall  see  hereafter  what  extraordinary  honours 
were  paid  to  the  victor,  of  which  one  of  the  mo«t  af- 
fecting was,  to  date  the  year  with  his  name.  Nothing 
could  more  effectually  stimulate  their  endeavours,  and 
make  them  regardless  of  expenses,  than  the  assurance 
of  immortalizing  their  names,  which,  through  all  future 
ages,  would  be  enrolled  in  their  annals,  and  stand  i* 
the  front  of  »11  laws  made  in  the  same  year  with  the  vic- 
tory. To  this  motive  may  be  added'the  joy  of  know- 
ing", that  their  praises  would  be  celebrated  by  the 
most  famous  poets,  and  form  the  subject  of  conversa- 
tion in  the  most  illustrious  assemblies;  for  the«e  odes 
were  sung  in  every  house,  and  formed  a  part  in  every 
entertainment.  What  could  be  a  more  powerful  in- 
centive to  a  people,  who  had  no  other  object  and  aim 
than  that  of  human  glory? 

I  shall  confine  myself  upon  this  head  to  the  Olym- 
pic games,  which  continued  five  days;  and  shall  de- 


i  Pnnsnn.  I.  v.  p.  207.  •  Ibid.  I.  vi.  p.  3-i. 

•  Olympiorum  victoria,  GrKci*  rontulatu*  Hie  antiqou* 
vidfbatur.—  Tuscul.  Quasi.  \ib.  ii.  n  41. 

I"  Olvmpiiinirum  fs*e  apud  (Jrarnii  propd  maiun  fuit 
et  gloriofiu*  ijuam  Ruma-  trium|ihasse. — Pro  Flaeco,  nibt. 
txn. 

»»  ralmaque  nobilin 

Terratum  domino*  evehit  ad  de<n.     Od.  \.  lib.  1. 

SIVP  quo*  Elra  domum  reducit 

Palma  ccclestei.  Od.  ii.  lib.  i». 


424 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


scribe,  in  as  briaf  a  manner  as  possible,  the  several 
kinds  of  combats  of  which  they  were  composed.  M. 
Burette  has  treated  this  subject  in  several  disserta- 
tions, printed  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of 
Belles  Lettres;  wherein  purity,  perspicuity,  and  ele- 
g-anceof  style,  are  united  with  profound  erudition.  I 
fciake  no  scruple  in  appropriating  to  my  use  the  riches 
of  mv  brethren;  and  in  what  I  have  already  said  upon 
the  Ohmpic  games,  have  made  very  free  with  the 
late  Abb6  Massieu's  remarks  upon  the  Odes  of  Pin- 
dar. 

The  combats  which  had  the  greatest  share  in  the 
Solemnity  of  the  public  games,  were  boxing,  wrest- 
ling, the  pancratium,  the  discus  or  quoit,  and  racing. 
To  these  may  be  added,  the  exercises  of  leaping, 
throwing  the  dart,  and  that  of  the  trochus,  or  wheel; 
but  as  these  were  neither  important,  nor  of  any  great 
reputation,  I  shall  content  myself  with  only  having 
mentioned  them  in  this  place.  For  the  better  metho- 
dising the  particulars  of  these  games  and  exercises,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  begin  with  an  account  of  the 
Athletae,  or  combatants. 

Of  the  Athletae,  or  Combatants. 

The  term  Athletae  is  derived  from  the  Greek  word 
JSxoj,  which  signifies  labour,  combat.  This  name  was 
given  to  those  who  exercised  themselves  with  an  in- 
tention to  dispute  the  prizes  in  the  public  games.  The 
art  by  which  they  formed  themselves  for  these  en- 
counters, was  called  Gymnastic,  from  the  Athletae's 
practising  naked. 

Those  who  were  designed  for  this  profession  fre- 
quented, from  their  most  tender  age,  the  Gymnasia  or 
Palaestrae,  which  were  a  kind  of  academies  maintain- 
ed for  that  purpose  at  the  public  expense.  In  these 
places,  such-young  people  were  under  the  direction  of 
different  masters,  who  employed  the  most  effectual 
methods  to  inure  their  bodies  for  the  fatigues  of  the 
public  games,  and  to  train  them  for  the  combats.  The 
regimen  they  were  under  was  very  hard  and  severe. 
At  first  they  had  no  other  nourishment  than  dried  figs, 
nuts,  soft  cheese,  and  a  coarse  heavy  sort  of  bread, 
called  p*{*.  They  were  absolutely  forbidden  the  use 
of  wine,  and  enjoined  continence;  which  Horace  ex- 
presses thus: 

Qui  stuclrt  optatnm  cursu  contingpre   metam 
Multa  tulit  fecitque  pucr,  suduvit  et  alsit, 
A  list  in u it  vcnere  et  vino. — Art.  Poet.  v.  412. 

Who  in  the  Olympic  race  the  prize  would  gain, 
UN*  borne  from  eaily  youth  fatigue  and  pain, 
Excess  of  heat  and  cold  lias  often  tried, 
Love'i  sufliiGKs  baniili'd,  and  the  glass  denied. 

St.  Paul,  by  a  comparison  drawn  from  the  Athletae, 
exhorts  the  Corinthians,  near  whose  city  the  Isthmian 
gamej  were  celebrated,  to  a  sober  and  penitent  life. 
"  Those  who  strive,"  says  he,  "  for  the  mastery,  are 
temperate  in  all  things:  Now  they  do  it  to  obtain  a 
corruptible  crown,  but  we  an  incorruptible."  Tertul- 
lian1  uses  the  same  thought  to  encourage  the  martyrs. 
He  makes  a  comparison  from  what  the  hopes  of  vic- 
tory made  the  Athletae  endure.  He  repeats  the  severe 
and  painful  exercises  they  were  obliged  to  undergo; 
the  continual  denial  and  constraint  in  which  they 
passed  the  best  years  of  their  lives;  and  the  voluntary- 
privation  which  they  imposed  upon  themselves,  of 
all  that  was  most  pleasing  and  grateful  to  their  pas- 
sions. It  is  true,  the  Athletic  did  not  always  observe 
so  severe  a  regimen,  but  at  length  substituted  in  its 
stead,  a  voracity  and  indolence  extremely  remote 
from  it. 

The  Athletic,  before  their  exercises,2  were  rubbed 
with  oils  and  ointments,  to  make  their  bodies  more 
supple  and  vigorous.  At  first  they  made  use  of  a 
belt,  with  an  apron  or  scarf  fastened  to  it,  for  their 
more  decent  appearance  in  the  combat;  but  one  of 
the  combatants  happening  to  lose  the  victory  by  this 
covering's  falling  off.  that  accident  was  the  occasion 


<  Nempe  rnim  et  Athleto  ncgregantnr  ad  utrlctiorem 
diftciulinam,  ut  robori  •dilicandn  yarcnt ;  contini  ntur  a 
inxuriu,  a  cibi«  totiorihux,  a  pntu  jucundiore  ;  coguntur, 
erociantur.  fatigantur.  Tertvll.  ad  Martyr. 

*  The  |K:rnu'p»  enrploycd  in  this  office  were  called  Aliptae. 


of  sacrificing  modesly  to  convenience,  and  retrenching 
the  apron  lor  the  future.  The  Athlttae  were  naked 
only  in  some  exercises,  as  wrestling,  boxing,  the  pan- 
cratium, and  the  foot-rare.  They  practised  akindoi 
novitiate  in  the  Gymnasia  for  ten  months,  to  accom- 
plish themselves  in  the  several  exercises  by  assiduous 
application;  and  this  they  did  in  the  presence  of  such, 
as  curiosity  or  idleness  conducted  to  look  on.  But 
when  the  celebration  of  the  Olympic  games  drew 
nigh,  the  Athletae  who  were  to  appear  in  them  were 
kept  to  double  exercise. 

Before  they  were  admitted  to  combat,  other  proofs' 
were  required;  as  to  birth,  none  but  Greeks  were  to 
be  received.  It  wns  also  necessary  that  their  manner* 
should  be  unexceptionable,  and  their  condition  free. 
i\o  foreigner  was  admitted  to  combat  in  the  Ol\  mpie 
games;  and  when  Alexander,  the  son  of  Amyntas, 
king  of  Macedon,  presented  himself  to  dispute  the 
prize,  his  competitors,  without  any  regard  to  the  royal 
dignity,  opposed  his  reception  as  a  Macedonian,  and) 
consequently  a  barbarian  and  a  stranger;  nor  could 
the  judges  be  prevailed  upon  to  admit  him,  till  he  had 
proved  in  due  form  his  family  originally  descended 
from  the  Argives. 

The  persons  who  presided  in  the  games  were  called 
Agonothetce,Allilotlietce,  and  ffellanodicce:  they  re- 
gistered the  name  and  country  of  each  champion:  and 
upon  the  opening  of  the  games  a  herald  proclaimed 
the  names  of  the  combatants.  They  were  then  made 
to  take  an  oath,  that  they  would  religiously  observe 
the  several  laws  pie-scribed  in  each  kind  of  combat, 
and  do  nothing  contrary  to  the  established  orders  and 
regulations  of  the  games.  Fraud,  artifice,  and  ex- 
cessive violence,  were  absolute!)1  prohibited;  and  the 
maxim  so  generally  received  elsewhere,8  that  it  is  in 
different  whether  an  enemy  is  conquered  by  deceit  or 
valour,  was  banished  from  these  combats.  The  ad- 
dress of  a  combatant,  expert  in  all  the  niceties  of  hif 
art,  who  knows  how  to  shift  and  ward  dexterously,  to 
put  the  change  upon  his  adversary  with  art  and  subtil- 
ty,  and  to  improve  the  least  advantages,  must  not  be 
confounded  herewith  the  cowardly  and  knavish  cun- 
ning of  one  who,  without  regard  to  the  laws  prescri- 
bed, employs  the  most  unfair  means  to  vanquish  his 
competitor.  Those  who  disputed  the  prize  in  the  se- 
veral kinds  of  combats,  drew  lots  for  their  precedency 
in  them. 

It  is  time  to  bring  our  champions  to  blow?,  and  to 
run  over  the  different  kinds  of  combats,  in  which  they 
exercised  themselves. 

Of    Wrestling. 

Wrestling  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  exercises  of 
which  we  have  any  knowledge,  having  been  practised 
in  the  time  of  the  patriarchs,  as  the  wrestling  of  the 
angel  with  Jacob  proves.4  Jacob  supported  the  an- 
gel's attack  so  vigorously,  that  the  latter  perceiving 
he  could  not  throw  so  rough  a  wrestler,  was  induced 
to  make  him  lame  by  touching  the  iinews  of  his  thigh, 
which  immediately  shrunk  up. 

Wrestling,  among  the  Greeks, as  well  as  other  na- 
tions, was  practised  at  first  with  simplicity,  little  art, 
and  in  a  natural  manner;  the  weight  of  the  body, and 
the  strength  of  the  muscles,  having  more  share  in  it 
than  address  and  skill.  Theseus  was  the  first  that 
reduced  it  to  method,  and  refined  it  by  the  rules  of 
art.  He  was  also  the  first  who  established  the  public 
schools  called  1'ala-stra,  where  the  young  people  had 
masters  to  instruct  them  in  it. 

The  wrestlers,  before  they  began  the  combat,  were 
rubbed  all  over  in  a  rough  manner,  and  afterward 
anointed  with  oils,  which  added  to  the  strength  and 
flexibility  of  their  limbs.  But  as  this  unrtion,  by 
making  the  skin  too  slippery,  rendered  it  difficult  for 
them  to  take  hold  of  each  other,  they  remedied  that 
inconvenience,  sometimes  bv  rollinp  themselves  in  the 
dust  of  the  1'alccstrae,  sometimes  by  throwing  a  fine 
sand  upon  each  other,  kept  for  thai  purpose  in  the 
Xystae,  or  porticoes  of  the  Gymnasia. 

Thus  prepared,  the  wrestlers  began  their  combat. 
They  were  matched  two  against  two,  and  sometime* 

•  Dolus  an  virtus,  quis  in  hoile  requiraiJ 

*  Gen.  xx.iii.^M. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


425 


several  couples  contended  at  the  same  time.  In  this 
combat,  the  whole  aim  and  design  of  tne  wrestler* 
was,  to  throw  their  adversary  upon  the  ground.  Both 
strength  and  art  were  employed  for  this  purpose: 
They  seized  each  other  by  the  anus,  drew  forwards, 
pushed  backwards,  used  many  distortions  and  twist- 
ings  d'  the  b  uiy  ;  locking  their  limbs  into  eacli  other's, 
seizing  by  the  neck,  throttling,  pressing  in  thtir 
arms,  •  truggling.  plying  on  all  sides,  lilting  from  the 
ground,  dashing  their  heads  together  like  rams,  and 
twitting  one  another's  necks.  The  most  considerable 
advantage  in  the  wrestler's  art,  was  to  make  himself 
master  of  his  adversary's  legs,  of  which  a  Adi  was 
the  immediate  consequence.  From  whence  Plautus 
«ays  in  hi?  Pseudolus,  speaking  of  wine,1  "  He  is  a 
Hngerooi  wrestler,  h«  presently  trips  up  the  heels." 
The  Greek  terms,  I»-CT»I».I'^IIV  and  *-Ti(>i£n>,  and  the 
Latin  word  su/ifilantiire,  seem  to  imply,  that  one  of 
these  arts  consisted  in  stooping  down  to  seize  the  an- 
tagonist under  the  soles  of  his  feet,  and  in  raising 
them  up  to  give  him  a  fall. 

In  this  manner  the  Athletic  wrestled  standing,  the 
combat  ended  with  the  fall  of  one  of  the  competitors. 
But  when  it  happened  that  the  wrestler  who  was 
down  drew  his  adversary  along  with  him,  either  by 
art  or  accident,  the  combat  continued  upon  the  sand, 
the  antagonists  tumbling  and  twining  with  each  other 
in  a  thousand  dirierenl  ways,  till  one  ol  tin  in  >rut 
uppermost,  and  compelled  the  other  to  ask  quarter, 
and  confi-ss  himself  vanquished.  There  was  a  third 
tort  ofwrestlingcalled  'Aipsxiififf-^t;,  from  the  Athle- 
te's uMtiir  only  iheir  hands  in  it,  without  taking  hold 
of  the  body,  as  in  the  other  kinds:  and  this  exercise 
served  as  a  prtlude  to  the  greater  combat.  It  consist- 
ed in  intermingling  their  fingers,  and  in  squeezing 
them  with  all  their  force;  in  pushing  one  another,  by 
joining  the  palms  of  their  hands  together;  in  twisting 
their  ringers,  wrist*,  and  otherjoints  of  the  arms,  with- 
out the  assistance  of  any  other  member;  and  the 
victory  was  his  who  obliged  his  opponent  to  ask 
quarter. 

The  combatants  were  to  fight  three  times  succes- 
sively, and  to  throw  their  antagonists  at  least  twice, 
before  the  prize  could  be  adjudged  to  them. 

Homer2  describes  the  wrestling  of  Ajax  and  Ulys- 
ses; Ovid,  that  of  Hercules  an:!  Achelous;  Lucan, 
of  Hercules  and  Anteus;  and  Statius,  in  his  The- 
baiH,  that  of  Tydeus  and  Agylleus. 

The  wrestlers  of  greatest  reputation  amongst  the 
Greeks,  were  Mil.)  of  Crotona,  whose  history  I  have 
related  elsewhere  at  large,  and  Pulydamus.  The  lat- 
ter, al  me  and  without  arms,  killed  a  furious  lion  upon 
mount  Olympus,  in  imitation  of  Hercules,  whom  he 
proposed  to  himself  as  a  model  in  this  action.  Another 
time,  having  seized  a  bull  by  one  of  his  hinder  le<;s, 
the  beast  cv,ukl  not  get  loose  without  leaving  his  hoof 
in  his  hands.  He  could  hold  a  chariot  behind,  while 
the  coachman  whijiped  his  horses  in  vain  to  make 
them  go  forward.  Darius  Nothus,  king  of  Persia, 
heari  g  of  his  prodigious  strength,  was  desirous  of 
feeing  him,  an  !  invited  him  to  Susa.  Three  soldiers 
of  that  prince's  guard,  and  of  that  band  which  the 
Persians  called  iinmnr/nl,  esteemed  the  most  warlike 
of  their  troops,  were  ordered  to  fall  upon  him.  Our 
champion  fought,  and  killed  them  all  three. 

Of  Boxing,  or  the    Cestits. 

Boxine:  is  n  combat  at  blown  with  the  fists,  from 
whence  it  derives  it«  name.  The  combatants  covered 
their  fists  with  a  kind  of  offensive  arms,  called  C'ttlut, 
and  their  heads  with  a  sort  of  leather  cap,  to  defend 
their  temples  and  ears,  which  were  most  exposed  to 
blows,  and  to  deaden  their  violence.  The  Cfstn*  wa< 
a  kind  of  gauntlet  or  glove,  made  of  straps  of  leather, 
•nd  plated  »\  'th  brass,  lead,  or  iron.  Their  use  was 
to  strengthen  the  hands  of  the  combatants,  and  to  add 
violence  to  Iheir  blows. 

Sometimes  the  Athletic  came  immediately  to  the 


I  fiintat  poil 

•  Iliml    I.  xx 

Phars.  1.  iv,  v.  Cl-i 

V0I.  1—54 


primiim.  luclator  dol.wu»  e§t. 


.  70-,  fee.    Oviil.  Metam.  l.iz.  v.31,  fcc. 
Stat.l.  vi.  v.  847 


most  violent  blows,  and  began  their  onset  in  the  most 
furious  manner.  Sometimes  whole  hours  pa-sid  in 
harassing  and  fatiguing  each  other,  by  a  continual 
extension  of  their  arms,  rendering  each  other  s  blowt 
inetiectual,  and  endeavouring  by  that  sparring  to  keep 
oil  their  adversary.  But  when  they  (ought  with  tha 
utmost  fury,  they  aimed  chiefly  at  the  head  and  ia(  n, 
which  parts  they  were  most  careful  todelend.bv  <  ither 
avoiding  or  parrying  the  blows  made  at  them.  When 
a  combatant  came  on  to  throw  himself  with  all  his 
force  and  vigour  upon  another,  they  had  a  surprising 
address  in  avoiding  the  attack,  by  a  nimble  turn  of  the 
body,  which  threw  the  imprudent  adversary  down,  anil 
deprived  him  of  the  victory. 

However  fierce  the  combatants  were  against  eacb 
other,  their  being  exhausted  by  the  length  »f  the  com- 
bat, would  frequently  reduce  them  to  the  necessity  of 
making  a  truce:  upon  which  the  battle  was  suspended 
by  mutual  consent  for  some  minute',  that  were  em- 
ployed in  recovering  their  fatigue,  and  rubbing  oil  the 
sweat  in  which  they  were  bathed:  alter  which  they 
renewed  tiie  fight,  till  one  of  them,  by  letting  fall  Ins 
arms,  through  weakness  and  faintness,  explained  that 
he  could  no  longer  support  the  pain  or  fatigue,  and  de- 
sired quarter;  which  was  confessing  himself  van- 
quished. 

Boxing  was  one  of  the  roughest  and  most  dan- 
gerous of  the  gymnastic  combats;  because,  beside* 
the  danger  of  being  crippled,  the  combatants  ran  the 
hazard  of  their  lives.  They  sometimes  fell  down  dead, 
or  dying,  upon  the  sand;  though  that  seldom  hap- 
pened, except  the  vanquished  person  persisted  too  long 
in  not  acknowledging  his  defeat;  yet  it  was  common 
for  them  to  quit  the  field  with  a  countenance  so  dis- 
figured, that  it  was  not  easy  to  know  them  afterward; 
carry  ing  away  with  them  the  sad  marks  of  their  vigor- 
ous resistance,  such  as  bruises  and  contusions  in  the 
face,  the  loss  of  an  e/e,  their  teeth  knocked  out,  their 
jaw*  broken,  or  some  more  considerable  fracture. 

We  find  in  the  poets,  both  Latin  and  Greek,  seve- 
ral descriptions  of  this  kind  of  combat.  In  Homer, 
that  of  K|>ens  and  Euryalus;8  in  Theocritus,  of  Pol- 
lux and  Amvcus;  in  Apollonius  Rhodius,  the  same 
battle  of  Pollux  and  Amvcus;  in  Virgil,  that  of  Da- 
res and  Entellus;  and  in  Statius  and  Valerius  Flac- 
cus,  of  several  other  combatants. 

Of  the  Pancratium. 

The  Pancratium*,  was  so  called  from  two  Greek 
words,  which  signify,  that  the  whole  force  of  the  body 
was  necessary  for  succeeding  it  it.  It  united  boxing 
and  wrestling  in  the  same  fight,  borrowing  fro.ni  one 
its  manner  of  struggling  and  dinging,  and  Irom  the 
other,  the  art  of  dealing  blows,  and  of  avoiding  them 
with  success.  In  wrestling  it  was  not  permitted  to 
strike  with  the  hand,  nor  in  boxing  to  seize  each  other 
in  the  manner  of  the  wrestlers;  but  in  the  Pancratium, 
it  was  not  only  allowed  to  make  use  of  all  the  gripes 
and  artifices  of  wrestling,  but  the  hands  and  feet,  and 
even  the  teeth  and  nails,  might  be  employed  to  con- 
quer an  antagonist. 

This  combat  was  the  most  rough  ami  dangerous. 
A  Pancratiast  in  the  Olympic  games  (caHed  Arrichion, 
or  Arrachion.)  perceiving  himself  almost  suffocated 
by  his  adversary,  who  had  got  fast  hold  of  him  by  the 
throat,  at  the  same  time  that  he  held  him  by  the  foot, 
broke  one  of  hi*  enemy's  tots,  the  extreme  anguish  of 
which  obliged  him  to  ask  quarter  at  the  very  nstant 
that  Arrichion  himself  expired.  The  Agonothetac 
crowned  Arrichion,  though  dead,  and  proclaimed  him 
victor.  Philostratus  has  left  lisa  very  lively  descrip- 
tion of  a  painting,  which  represented"  this  combat. 

Of  the   Discus,  or   Quoit. 

The  Discus  was  a  kind  of  quoit  of  a  round  form, 
made  sometimes  of  wood,  but  more  frequently  of 
stone,  lead,  or  other  metal;  as  iron  or  brns«.  Those 
who  used  this  exercise  were  called  Discoboli,  thai 


.  Idyl.  xxii.     Aeronautic,   lib.  ii.      jCneiJ   '   • 


Thebait!.  I.  vii.  Argonaut.  1.  iv. 
«  ll*v  «eiTO«. 

2  L  2 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


H,  flingiTs  cf  the  Discus.  The  epithet  ***»?*?;.,;, 
which  signifies  borne  upon  the  shoulders,  given  to  this 
instrument  by  Homer,  sufficiently  shows  that  it  was 
of  too  great  a  weight  to  be  can  led  from  place  to  place 
in  the  hands  only,  and  that  the  shoulders  were  neces- 
sary for  the  support  of  such  a  burden  for  any  length 
of  time. 

The  intent  of  this  exercise,  as  of  almost  all  the 
others,  was  to  invigorate  the  body,  and  to  make  men 
more  capable  of  supporting  the  weight  and  use  of 
arms.  In  war  they  were  often  obliged  to  carry  such 
loads,  as  appear  excessive  in  these  days,  either  of 
provlsiMis,  fascines,  palisades;  or  in  scaling  of  walls, 
when,  to  equal  the  height  of  them,  several  of  the  be- 
siegers mounted  upon  the  shoulders  of  each  other. 

The  Athletae,  in  hurling  the  Discus,  put  themselves 
into  the  posture  best  adapted  to  add  force  to  theii  cast ; 
that  is,  they  advanced  one  foot,  upon  which  they 
leaned  the  whole  weight  of  their  bodies.  They  then 
poised  the  Discus  in  their  hands,  and  whirling  it  round 
several  times  almost  horizontally,  to  add  force  to  its 
motion,  they  threw  it  oil' with  the  joint  strength  of 
hands,  arms,  and  body,  which  had  all  a  share  in  the 
vigour  of  the  discharge.  He  that  flung  the  Discus 
farthest  was  the  victor.  ' 

The  most  famous  painters  and  sculptors  of  anti- 
quity, in  their  endeavours  to  represent  naturally  the 
attitudes  of  the  Discoboli,  have  left  to  posterity  many 
masterpieces  in  their  sevf.ral  arts.  Quintilian  exceed- 
ingly extols  a  statue  of  that  kind,  which  had  been 
finished  with  infinite  care  and  application  by  the  cele- 
brated Myron:  "What1  can  be  more  finished,"  says 
he,  "  or  express  more  happily  the  muscular  distortions 
of  the  body  in  the  exercise  of  the  Discus,  than  the  Dis- 
cobolus of  Myron?" 

Of  the  Ptntathlum. 

The  Greeks  gave  this  name  to  an  exercise  com- 
posed of  five  others.  It  is  the  common  opinion,  that 
these  five  exercises  were  wrestling,  running,  leap- 
ing, throwing  the  dart,  and  the  Discus.  It  is  believed 
that  this  sort  of  combat  was  decided  in  one  day, 
and  sometimes  the  same  morning;  and  that  to  ob- 
tain the  prize,  which  was  single,  it  was  required 
that  a  combatant  should  be  the  victor  in  all  those  ex- 
ercises. 

The  exercise  of  leaping,  and  throwing  the  javelin, 
of  which  the  first  consisted  in  leaping  a  certain  length, 
and  the  other  in  hitting  a  mark  with  a  javelin  at  a  cer- 
tain distance,  contributed  to  the  fornnngof  a  soldier, 
by  making  him  nimble  and  active  in  battle,  and  expert 
in  flinging  the  spear  and  dart. 

Of  Race* 

Of  all  the  exercises  which  the  Athletae  cultivated 
with  so  much  pains  and  industry  to  enable  them  to 
appear  in  the  public  games,  running  held  the  foremost 
rank.  The  Olympic  games  generally  opened  with 
races,  and  were  solemnized  at  first  with  no  other  ex- 
ercise. 

The  place  where  the  Athletae  exercised  themselves 
in  running,  was  generally  called  the  Stadium  by  the 
Greeks;  as  wag  that  wherein  they  disputed  in  earnest 
for  the  prize.  As  the  lists  or  course  for  these  games 
was  at  first  but  one  Stadium  2  in  length,  it  took  its 
name  from  its  measure,  and  was  called  the  Stadium, 
whether  precisely  of  that  extent,  or  of  a  much  greater. 
Under  that  denomination  was  included  not  onl>  the 
space  in  which  the  Athletoe  ran.  but  also  that  which 
contained  the  spectators  of  the  gymnastic  games. 
The  place  where  th*  Athletic  contended,  was  called 
Scnmma,  from  its  lying  lower  than  the  rest  of  the 
Stadium,  on  each  side  of  which,  and  at  the  extremity, 

Uuiil  lam  distortum  et  elaboratum  quam  est  illu  Disco- 
bolus  Myronis  ?     Q.uintil.  lih.  ii.  cnp.  lit. 

»  The  S-iuliiiiii  was  a  meainrc  of  di*tani-e  amonj  the 
Greeks,  and  was,  arcordin;  lo  Herodotus,),  jj.  c.  14!>,  six 
humlivil  feet  in  length.  Pliny  iay»,  lili.  ii.  c.  23.  that  it  WHS 
I'll  hundred  anil  twenty-five.  Thi  *•  two  authors  may  be 
reconciled  hy  considering  the  difference  between  the 
Greek  and  Koman  foot;  he.nidi.-i  which,  the  length  of  the 
Stadium  varies,  according  to  the  difference  of  times  and 
placet 


ran  an  ascent,  or  kind  of  terrace,  covered  w  ith  sent! 
and  btnch.es,  upon  which  the  spectators  were  seated. 
The  most  remarkable  parts  of  the  Stadfum  were  iti 
entrance,  middle,  and  extremity. 

The  entrance  of  the  course,  from  whence  the  com 
petitors  started,  was  marked  at  tirst  only  bv  a  l.nc 
drawn  on  the  sand  from  side  lo  side  of  the  Stadium. 
To  that  at  length  was  substituted  a  kind  of  barrier 
which  was  only  a  cord  strained  tight  in  the  front ' M  tli* 
horses  or  men  that  were  to  run.  It  was  sou.t  times  t 
rail  of  wood.  The  opening  of  this  barrier  was  th« 
signal  for  the  races  to  start. 

The  middle  ol  the   Stadium  was  remarkable   onlj 
by  the  circumstance  of  having  the  prizes  a'.iotled  to  the 
victors  set   up  there.     St.  Cbrysostoin '*  draws  a  fin« 
comparison  from  this  custom.    "  As  the  judges,"  sa^s 
be,  "  in  the  races  and  other  games,  expose  in  the  niids 
of  the  Stadium,  to  the  view  of  the  champions,  th 
crowns  which  they  are  to  receive;  in  like  manner  th 
Lord,  by  the  mouth  of  his  prophets,  has  placed,  in  th 
midst  of  the  course,  the    prizes  which  he  design*  lo. 
those  who  have  the  courage  to  contend  for  them." 

At  the  extremity  of  the  Stadium  was  a  goal,  where 
the  foot  races  ended,  but  in  those  of  chariots  and 
horses  they  were  to  run  several  times  around  it  without 
stopping,  and  afterward  conclude  the  race  by  regain- 
ing the  other  extremity  of  the  lists,  from  whence  they 
started. 

There  were  three  kinds  of  races,  the  chariot,  the 
horse,  and  the  foot-race.  I, shall  begin  with  the  Ia*t 
as  the  more  simple,  natural,  and  ancient, 

1.  Of  the  Foot-race. 

The  runners,  of  whatever  number  thev  wej-e,  ranged 
themselves  in  a  line,  after  having  drawn  lots  for  theii 
places.  Whilst  «  they  waited  the  signal  to  start,  they 
practised,  by  way  of  prelude,  various  motions  tf 
awake  n  their  activity,  and  to  keep  their  lin.bs  |,liabl« 
and  in  a  right  temper.  They  kept  them.-eKes  in  wine 
by  small  leaps,  and  making  little  excursions,  tha 
were  a  kind  of  trial  of  their  speed  and  agility.  Upoi 
the  signal  being  given  they  flew  towards  the  goal 
with  a  rapidity  scarce  to  "be  followed  by  the  eye 
which  was  solely  to  decide  the  victory.  For  the  Ago 
nistic  laws  prohibited,  under  the  penalty  of  infamy 
the  attaining  it  by  any  foul  method. 

In  the  simple  race,  the  extent  of  the  Stadium  waj 
run  but  once,  at  the  end  of  which  the  prize  attendee 
the  victor;  that  is,  he  who  came  in  tirst.  In  the  rac» 
called  Ai'»«xo«,  the  competitors  ran  twice  that  length 
that  is,  after  having  arrived  at  the  goal,  they  return 
ed  to  the  barrier.  To  these  may  be  added  a  third 
sort,  called  &9».ix°;>  which  was  the  longest  of  all,  as 
its  name  implies,  and  was  composed  of  several  Di- 
auli.  Sometimes  it  consisted  of  twtnty-tuur  Stadia 
backwards  and  forwards,  turning  twelve  times  round 
the  goal. 

There  were  sonic  runners  in  ancient  times,  as  well 
among  the  Greeks  as  Romans,  who  have  been  much 
celebrated  for  their  swiftness.  }  liny  5  l<  II*  us,  that  it 
was  thought  prodigious  in  Phidippides  to  run  t  liven 
hundred  and  forty  Stadia6bftwitn  Athens  anil  Lace- 
daemon  in  the  space  of  two  days,  till  An\-tU.  of  the 
latter  place,  and  Philonides,  the  runntrof  Alexander 
the  Great,  went  twelve  hundred  Stadia  ?  in  one  day 
from  Sicyon  to  Elis.  These  runners  were  denomi- 
nated ffiiftSf-itit,  HS  we  find  in  that  passage  of  Hero- 
dotus.8 which  mentions  Phidippides.  In  the  consulate 


•  Horn   Iv.  in  Mntth.  c.  16. 

4  Tune  ril  J  citatua 

Kxplnrant,  acuuntque  gradus.  vuriasijuo  por  artel 
lust  iniulanl  ducio  lani'ucntia  membra  lumollu. 
Poplile  nunc  nVxo  siduni.  nunc  lubrira  t'orti 
Pectora  collidunt  pliiusn  ;  nunc  ijjnea  tollunt 
Crura  breremque  fugnm  nee  npino  fine  re|xuiunt. 
Stat.  Tktb.  lib.  vi.  v.  5f-7,  &.c. 

They  try,  they  rouse  their  speed,  with  various  nrtg; 

Their  languid  limbs  they  prompt  to  act  their  (.arts. 

Now  uilh  l>ent  hnrns.  amidst  the  practised  croud. 

Thev  sit  ;  now  strain  their  lung's,  mill  fhout  aloud; 

Now  a  slmri  flight  with  fiery  steps  they  trace, 

And  with  H  vudden  slop  abridge  the  mimic  race. 

>  Plin.  I.  vii   c. -JO.          •  57  leagues.  •.  GO  leane*. 

•  Her.  I.  vi.  c.  100. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


427 


ofFonteius  and  Vip?anns,  in  the  reign  of  Nero,  a  boy 
of  nine  years  old  ran  seventy-five  thousand  paces,1 
between  noon  and  night.  Pliny  adds,  that  in  his  tune 
there  were  runners  who  ran  one  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  paces  2  in  the  Circus.  Our  wonder  at  such  a 
prociigious  speed  will  increase  (continues  he,)  if*  we 
reflect  that  when  Tiberius  went  to  Germany  to  his 
orother  Drusus,  then  at  the  point  of  death,  he  could 
Dot  arrive  there  in  less  than  four-and-twenty  hours, 
though  the  distance  was  but  two  hundred  thousand 
pacts,*  and  he  changed  his  carriage  three  times,*  and 
went  with  the  utmost  diligence. 

2.  Of  the  Horte-racei. 

The  race  of  a  single  horse  with  a  rider  was  less  cele- 
brated among  the  ancients,  yet  it  had  its  favourers 
amongst  the  most  considerable  persons,  and  even 
kings  themselves,  and  was  attended  with  uncommon 
glory  to  the  victor.  Pindar,  in  his  first  ode,  celebrates 
•  victory  of  this  kind,  obtained  by  Hiero,  king  of  Sy- 
racuse, to  whom  he  gives  the  title  of  K»M«,  that  is, 
P'ictor  in  the  horse-race;  which  name  was  given  to  the 
horses  carrying  only  a  single  rider,  KJMTIJ,  Some- 
times the  rider  led  another  horse  by  the  bridle,  and 
then  the  horses  were  called  Desnllorii,  and  their  riders 
Desultores;  because,  after  a  number  of  turns  in  the 
Stadium,  they  changed  horses,  by  dexterously  vault- 
ing from  one  to  the  other.  A  surprising  address  was 
necessary  upon  th's  occasion,  especially  in  an  age  un- 
acquainted with  the  use  of  stirrups,  and  when  the 
horses  had  no  saddles,  which  made  the  leap  still  more 
difficult.  Among  the  African  troops  there  were  also 
cavuln  '  called  Desullores,  who  vaulted  from  one 
horse  to  another,  as  occasion  required;  and  these 
were  generally  Numidians. 

3.  Of  the  Chariot-races, 

This  kind  of  race  was  the  most  renowned  of  all  the 
exercises  used  in  the  games  of  the  ancients,  and  that 
from  whence  most  honour  redounded  to  the  victors; 
which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  if  we  consider  whence 
it  arose.  It  is  plain  that  it  was  derived  from  the  con- 
itaflt  custom  of  prince*,  heroes,  and  great  men,  of 
fighting  in  battle  upon  chariots.  Homer  has  an  infi- 
uity  of  examples  of  this  kind.  This  custom  being 
admitted,  it  is  natural  to  suppose  it  very  agreeable  to 
those  heroes,  to  have  their  charioteers  as  expert  as 
pos^ble  in  driving,  as  thtir  success  depended,  in  a 
very  great  measure,  upon  the  address  of  their  drivers. 
It  was  anciently,  therefore,  only  to  persons  of  the  first 
consideration,  that  this  office  was  confided.  Hence 
arose  a  laudable  emulation  to  excel  others  in  the  art 
of  guiding  a  chariot,  and  a  kind  of  necessity  to  prac- 
tise it  very  much,  in  order  to  succeed.  The  high  rank 
of  the  persons  who  made  use.  of  chariots,  ennobled, 
as  it  always  happens,  an  exercise  peculiar  to  them. 
The  other  exercises  were  adapted  to  private  sol- 
diers and  horsemen,  as  wrestling,  running,  and  the 
single  horse-race;  but  the  use  of  chariots  in  the  field 
was  always  reserved  to  princes,  and  generals  of 
armies. 

Hence  it  was,  that  all  those  who  presented  them- 
selves in  the  Olympic  games  to  dispute,  the  priie  in  the 
chariot- races,  were  persons  considerable  either  for 
their  riches,  their  birth,  their  employments,  or  great 
actions.  Kins;*  themselves  eagerly  aspired  to  this  glo- 
ry, from  the  belief  that  the  title  of  victor  in  these  games 
was  scarce  inferior  to  that  of  conqueror,  and  that  the 
Olympic  palm  added  new  dignity  to  the  splendours  of 
a  throne.  Pindar's  odes  inform  u»,  that  Gelon  and 
Hiero,  kings  of  Syracuse,  were  of  that  opinion.  Di- 
onysiu*.  who  reisrned  there  long  after  them,  carried 
the  same  ambition  much  higher.  Philip  of  Macedon 
had  these  victories  stamped  upon  his  coins,  and  seem- 


i  30  lea-raps.  •  More  than  53  league*. 

»  Val.  Max.  1.  ».  c.  5.  *  07  leaiu.-s. 

•  Hi>  had  only  a  juidc  and  one  oftVer  with  him. 

•  Ne.c  omnns  NuminV  in  dextro  locati  rornu.  ted  quihuf 
defultoium  in  mndum  hinon  tralicntibun  cquo«,  inter  acerri- 
mam  «^i>e    pu;nam,   in  renenli'm  equum  ex    fesso  armatis 
transultarn  mm  er»t ;  lanta  velnnitu  ip*i»,    tamque  docile 
•quorum  goiius  esi.     Liv.  lib.  xxiii. 


ed  as  much  gratified  with  them  as  with  those  ob- 
tained agninst  the  enemies  of  his  state.  All'  the 
world  knows  the  answer  of  Alexander  the  Great  on 
this  subject.  When  his  friends  asked  him  whether  he 
would  not  dispute  the  prize  of  the  races  in  these 
games  1  Yes,  said  he,  if  kings  icere  to  be  my  antago- 
nists. Which  shows,  that  he  would  not  have  disdain- 
ed these  contests,  if  there  had  been  competitors  in 
them  worthy  of  him. 

The  chariots  were  generally  drawn  by  two  or  four 
horses,  ranged  abreast:  bigcf,  quadriguc.  Sometimes 
mules  supplied  the  place  of  horses,  and  then  the  char 
lot  was  called  i**,,.  Pindar,  in  the  fifth  ode  of  hit 
first  book,  celebrates  one  Psaumis,  who  had  obtained 
a  triple  victory:  one  by  a  chariot  drawn  bv  four  hor 
ses,  Tijfix-iru;  another  by  one  drawn* by  mules,  >vir»  ' 
and  the  third  by  a  single  horse,  XIA...T.,  which  the 
title  of  the  ode  expresses. 

These  chariots,  upon  a  signal  given,  started  to- 
gether from  a  place  called  Carceres.  Their  places 
were  regulated  by  lot,  which  was  not  an  imlitli  rent 
circum-tance  as  to  the  victory;  for  as  they  were  to 
turn  round  a  boundary,  the  chariot  on  the  left  was 
nearer  than  those  on  the  right,  which  consequently 
had  a  greater  compass  to  take.  It  appears  from  se- 
veral passages  in  Pindar,  and  especially  from  one  in 
Sophocles,  which  I  shall  cite  very  soon,  that  they  ran 
twelve  times  round  the  Stadium.  He  that  came  in 
first  the  twelfth  round  was  victor.  The  chief  art  con- 
sisted in  taking  the  best  ground  at  the  turning  of  the 
boundary:  for  if  the  charioteer  drove  too  near  it,  he 
was  in  danger  of  dashing  the  chariot  to  pieces;  and 
if  he  kept  too  wide  of  it,  his  ner.iest  antagonist  might 
cut  between  him,  and  gel  foremost. 

It  is  obvious  that  these  chariot-races  could  not  be 
run  without  some  danger;  for  as  the  motion8  of  the 
wheels  was  very  rapid,  and  it  was  requisite  to  graze 
against  the  boundary  in  turning,  the  least  error  in 
driving  would  have  broken  the  chariot  in  pieces,  and 
might  have  dangerously  wounded  the  charioteer.  An 
example  of  which  we  und  in  the  Electra  of  Sophocles, 
who  gives  an  admirable  description  of  a  chariot-race 
run  by  ten  competitors.  The  pretended  Orestes,  at 
the  twelfth  and  last  round,  which  was  to  decide  the 
victory,  having  only  one  antagonist,  the  rest  having 
been  thrown  out,  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  break  one 
of  his  wheels  against  the  boundary,  and  falling  out  of 
his  seat  entangled  in  the  reins,  the  horses  dragged  him 
violently  forwards  along  with  them,  and  tore  him  to 
pieces.  But  this  very  seldom  happened.  To 'avoid 
such  danger,  Nestor  gave  the  following  directions  to 
his  son  Antilochus,  who  was  going  to  dispute  the 
prize  in  the  chariot-race.  "  My  son,"  say«  he,  "  drive 
your  horses  as  near  as  possible  to  the  boundary;  for 
which  reason  always  incline  your  body  over  your 
chariot,  get  the  left  of  y^our  competitors,  and  encoor- 
aging  the  horse  on  the  right,  give  him  the  rein,  \vhiltt 
the  near  horse,  hard  held,  turns  the  boundary  so  close 
that  the  nave  of  the  wheel  seems  to  graze  uj>on  it; 
but  have  a  rare  of  running  against  the  stone,  lest  you 
wound  your  horses,  and  dash  the  chariot  in  pieces." 
Father  Montfaucon  mentions  a  difficulty,  in  his  opi- 
nion of  much  consequence,  in  regard  to  the  places  of 
those  who  contended  for  the  priie  in  the  chariot  race. 
Thev  all  started  indeed  from  the  same  line,  hnd  «t  the 

'  «ame  time,  and  so  far  had  no  advantage  of  each  other; 

j  but  he,  whose  lot  gave  him'  the  first  place,  being  near- 
est the  boundary  at  the  end  of  the  career,  and  having 
but  a  small  compass  to  describe  in  turning  about  it,  had 

I  less  way  to  make  than  the  second,  third,  fourth,  ivc. 

'  especial! v  when  the  chariots  Were  (irawn  by  four 
horses,  which  took  up  a  ereater  space  between  the 
first  and  the  others,  and  obliged  them  to  make  a  Inrjer 

I  circle  in  coming  round.  Thi*  advantage  tw«-lye  tunes 
tozether,  as  must  happen,  admitting  the  Stadium  wa* 
to  be  run  round  twelve  times,  gave  such  a  superiority 
to  the  first,  as  seemed  to  assure  him  infallibly  of  the 
victory  against  all  his  competitors.  To  me  it  seenu 


t  Pint    in  Alex.  p.  666. 

•  Metnoue  fervidis  pTitata  r.itin.     Horct.  Orf.  I.  lib,  I. 

Tic  soal  *hunnM  h<r  the  burning  wheels. 

*  Horn.  II.  I.  xxiii.  ».  334,  &.C. 


428 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


that  the  fleetness  of  th«  horses,  joined  with  the  ad- 
dress  of  the  driver, might  countervail  this  odds:  either 
by  getting  before  the  first,  or  by  taking  his  place;  if 
not  in  the  first,  at  least  in  gome  of  the  subsequent 
rounds;  for  it  is  not  to  be  supposed,  that  in  the  pro- 
gress of  the  race,  the  antagonists  always  continued 
in  the  same  order  in  which  they  started.  They  often 
changed  places  in  a  snort  interval  of  time,  and  in  that 
variety  and  vicissitude  consisted  all  the  diversion  of 
the  spectators. 

It  was  not  required,  that  those  who  aspired  to  the 
victory  should  inter  the  lists,  and  drive  their  chariots 
in  person.  Their  being  spectators  of  the  games,  or 
even  sending  their  horses  thither  was  sufficient;  but 
in  either  case,  it  was  previously  necessary  to  regis- 
ter the  names  of  the  persons  lor  whom  the  horses 
were  to  run,  either  in  the  chariot  or  single-horse- 
races. 

At1  the  time  that  the  city  of  Potidaea  surrendered  to 
Philip,  three  couriers  brought  him  advices;  the  first, 
that  the  Illyrians  had  been  defeated  in  a  great  battle 
by  his  general  Parmenio;  the  second,  that  lie  had  car- 
ried the  prize  of  the  horse-race  in  the  Olympic  games; 
and  the  third,  that  the  queen  was  delivered  of  a  son. 
Plutarch  seems  to  insinuate,  that  Philip  was  equally 
delighted  with  each  of  these  circumstances. 

Hiero8  sent  horses  to  Olympia,  to  run  for  the  prize, 
and  caused  a  magnificent  pavilion  to  be  erected  for 
them.  Upon  this  occasion  Themistorlts  harangued 
the  Greeks,  to  persuade  them  to  pull  clown  the  tyrant's 
pavilion,  who  had  refused  his  aid  against  the  common 
enemy,  and  to  hinder  his  horses  from  running  with 
the  rest.  It  does  not  appear  that  any  regard  was  had 
to  this  remonstrance;  for  we  find,  by  one  of  Pindar'* 
odes,  composed  in  honour  of  Hiero,  that  he  won  the 
prize  in  the  equestrian  races. 

No3  one  ever  carried  the  ambition  of  making  a  great 
figure  in  the  public  games  of  Greece  so  far  as  Alci- 
biadeg,  in  which  he  distinguished  himself  in  the  most 
Splendid  manner,  by  the  great  number  of  horses  and 
chariots  which  he  kept  only  for  the  races.  There 
never  was  either  private  person  or  king,  that  sent,  as 
he  did,  seven  chariots  at  once  to  the  Olympic  games, 
wherein  he  carried  the  first,  second,  and  third  prizes; 
an  honour  no  one  ever  had  before  him.  The  famous 
poet  Kuripides  celebrated  these  victories  in  an  ode,  of 
which  Plutarch  has  preserved  a  fragment  The  victor, 
after  having  made  a  sumptuous  sacrifice  to  Jupiter, 
gave  a  magnificent  feast  to  the  innumerable  multitude 
of  spectators  at  the  games.  It  is  not  easy  to  compre- 
hend, how  the  wealth  of  a  private  person  should  suf- 
fice for  so  enormous  an  expense:  but  Antisthenes,  the 
scholar  of  Socrates,  who  relates  what  he  saw,  informs 
us,  that  many  cities  of  the  allies,  in  emulation  of  each 
other,  supplied  Alcibiades  with  all  things  necessary 
for  the  support  of  such  incredible  magnificence;  equi- 
pages, horses,  tents,  sacrifices,  the  most  exquisite  pro- 
visions, the  most  delicate  wines — in  a  word,  all  that 
was  necessary  to  the  support  of  his  table  or  train.  The 
passage  is  remarkable;  for  the  same  author  assures 
us,  tlmt  this  was  not  only  done  when  Alcibiades  went 
to  the  Olympic  game*,  but  in  all  his  military  expedi- 
tion* and  journeys  by  land  or  sea.  "Wherever," 
inyt  he.  "  Alcibiades  travelled,  he  made  use  of  four 
of  tlie  allied  citie*  as  his  servants.  Ephesus  furnished 
him  with  tent*,  as  magnificent  as  those  of  the  Per- 
sians; Chios  took  rare  to  provide  for  his  horses;  Cy- 
ticiim  siipplit-d  him  with  sacrifices,  and  provisions  for 
his  table;  and  Lesbos  gave  him  wine,  with  whatever 
eUe  WHS  requisite  for  his  house." 

I  must  not  omit,  in  speaking  of  the  Olympic  games, 
that  the  ladies  were  admitted  to  dispute  the  prize  in 
them  as  well  as  the  men:  and  that  many  of  them  ob- 
tained it.  Cy  nisca,«  sister  of  Agesilaus  king  of  Sparta, 
first  opened  this  new  path  of  glory  to  her  sex,  and 
wt»  proclaimed  conqueror  in  the  race  of  chariots  with 
four  horses.  This  victory,4  of  which  till  then  there 
had  bern  no  example,  did  not  fail  of  beinij  celebrated 
with  nil  possible  splendour.  A  magnificent  ntonu- 


i  I'lut.  in  Alex.  p.  (VOfl. 

•  I'lut.  in  Alribiacl.  p.  196 

•  ibi  *.  p  ion. 


•  Plut.  in  Thomint.  p.  124. 

*  Pauian.  1.  iii.  p.  17-2. 


ment*  was  erected  at  Sparta  in  honour  of  Cyniscaj 
and  the  Lacedemonians,  though  otherwise  very  litllt 
sensible  to  the  charms  of  poetry,  appointed  a  poet  to 
transmit  this  new  triumph  to  posterity,  and  to  immor- 
talize its  memory  by  an  inscription  in  verse.  She  her 
sell  1  dedicated  a  i  hariot  of  brass,  drawn  by  four  hor- 
ses, in  the  temple  of  Delphi;  in  which  the  charioteer 
was  also  represented, — a  ceitain  proof  that  sht  did  not 
drive  it  herself.  In  process  of  time,  the  picture  of 
Cynisca,8  drawn  bv  the  famous  Antlles,  was  annexed 
to  it,  and  the  whole  adorned  with  many  inscriptions 
in  honour  of  that  Spartan  heroine. 

Of  the  Honours  and  Rewards  granted  to  the  f'ictort, 

These  honours  and  rewards  were  of  several  kinds. 
The  acclamations  of  the  spectators  in  honour  of  th« 
victors,  were  only  a  prelude  to  the  prizts  dtsigned 
them.  These  ptizes  were  different  wreaths  of  wild 
olive,  pine,  parsley,  or  laurel,  according  to  the  dille- 
rent  placi  s  where  the  games  were  celebrated.  Those 
crowns  were  always  attended  with  branches  of  palm, 
that  the  victors  carried  in  their  right  Lands;  which 
custom,  according  to  Plutarch,9  arose  (perhaps)  from 
a  property  of  the  palm  tree,  which  display*  new  vi- 
gour the  more  endeavours  are  used  to  crush  or  bend 
it,  and  is  a  symbol  of  the  courage  and  resistance  of 
the  champion  who  had  obtained  the  prize.  As  he 
might  be  victor  more  than  once  in  the  same  games, 
and  sometimes  on  the  same  day,  he  might  also  re- 
ceive several  crowns  and  palms. 

When  the  victor  had  received  the  crown  and  palm, 
a  herald,  preceded  by  a  trumpet,  conducted  him 
through  the  stadium,  and  proclaimed  aloud  the  name 
and  country  of  the  successful  champion,  who  passed 
in  that  kind  of  review  before  the  people,  whilst  they 
redoubled  their  acclamations  and  applauses  at  the 
sight  of  him. 

When  he  returned  to  his  own  country,  the  people 
came  out  in  a  body  to  meet  him,  and  conducted  him 
into  the  city,  adorned  with  all  the  marks  of  his  vic- 
tory, and  riding  upon  a  chariot  drawn  by  four  horses. 
He  made  his  entry  not  through  the  gates,  but  through 
a  breach  purposely  made  in  the  walls.  Lighted 
torches  were  carried  before  him,  and  a  numerous  train 
followed  to  do  honour  to  the  procession. 

The  athletic  triumph  almost  always  concluded  with 
feasts  made  for  the  victors,  their  relations  and  friends, 
either  at  the  expense  of  the  public,  or  by  private  in- 
dividuals, who  regaled  not  only  their  families  and 
friends,  but  often  a  great  part  of  the  spf  rtators.  Alci- 
biades,10 after  having  sacrificed  to  the  Olympian  Jupi- 
ter, which  was  always  the  first  care  of  the  victor, 
treated  the  whole  assembly.  Leophron  did  the  same, 
as  Athenseus  reports;"  who  adds,  that  Empcdocles 
of  Agrigentum,  having  conquered  in  the  same  games, 
and  not  having  it  in  his  power,  being  a  Pythagorean, 
to  regale  the  people  w  ith  flesh  or  fish,  caused  an  ox  to 
be  made  of  a  paste,  composed  of  myrrh,  incense,  and 
all  sorts  of  spices,  of  which  pieces  were  given  to  all 
who  were  present. 

One  of  the  most  honourable  privileges  granted  to 
the  athletic  victors,  was  the  right  of  precedency  at  the 
public  games.  At  Sparta  it  was  the  custom  for  the 
king  tn  take  them  with  him  in  military  expiditione,  to 
fight  near  hi*  person,  and  to  be  his  guard, — which, 
with  reason,  was  judged  very  honourable.  Another 
privilege,  in  which  advantage  was  united  with  honour, 
was  that  of  being  mnintained  for  the  rest  of  their  lives 
at  the  expense  of  their  country.  That  this  expense 
might  not  become  too  chargeable  to  the  Mate, H  Solon 
reduced  the  pension  of  a  victor  in  the  Olympic  garnet 
to  five  hundred  drachmas; l3  in  the  Isthmian  to  a  hun- 
dred; '*  and  the  rest  in  proportion.  The  victor  and 
his  country  considered  this  pension  less  as  a  relief  of 
the  champ'ion's  indigence,  than  as  a  mark  of  honour 
and  di-tinction.  They  were  also  exempted  from  al 
civil  offices  and  employments. 


•  Pnusan.  p.  172.  '  Ibid.  1.  v.  p.  309. 

•  Ibid.  I.  vi   p.  3-14.  •  Sympfw.  I.  viii. 
i»  Pint,  in  Alcili.  p   l<)6.             "  Lib.  i.  p  3. 

i*  Diop.  Lam,  in  Solon,  p.  37. 

»  About  111.  »•  A bo«t  .U. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


429 


Tne  celebration  of  the  games  being  over,  one  of  the 
first  cares  of  the  magistrates,  who  presided  in  them, 
was  to  inscribe,  in  the  public  register,  the  name  and 
country  of  the  Athletae  who  had  carried  the  prizes,  and 

o  annex  the  species  of  combat  in  which  they  had  been 
victorious.  The  chariot-race  had  the  preference  to  all 
other  games.  Hence  the  historians,  who  date  occur- 
rences by  the  Olympiads,  as  Thucydides,  Dionysius 
of  Halicarnassus,  Diodorus  Siculus,  and  Pausanias, 
almost  always  express  the  Olympiad  by  the  name  and 
country  of  the  victors  in  that  race. 

The  praises  of  the  victorious  Athletae  were  amongst 
the  Greeks  one  of  the  principal  subjects  of  their  lyric 
poetry.  We  find  that  all  the  odes  of  the  four  books 
of  Pindar  turn  upon  it,  each  of  which  takes  its  title 
from  the  games  in  which  the  combatants  signalized 
themselves,  whose  victories  those  poems  celebrate. 
The  poet,  indeed,  frequently  enriches  his  matter,  by 
calling  in  to  the  champion's  assistance,  incapable 
alone  of  inspiring  all  the  enthusiasm  necessary,  the 
aid  of  the  gods,  heroes,  and  princes,  who  have  any  re- 
lation to  his  subject:  and  to  support  the  flights  of  ima- 
gination, to  which  he  abandons  himself.  Before  Pin- 
*dar,  the  poet  Simonides  practised  the  same  manner  of 
writing,  intermingling  the  praises  of  the  gods  and  he- 
roes with  those  of  the  champions  whose  victories  he 
sang.  It  is  related  upon  this  head,1  that  one  of  the 
victors  in  boxing,  called  Scopas,  having  agreed  with 
Simonides  for  a  poem  upon  his  victory,  the  poet,  ac- 
cording to  custom,  after  having  given  the  highest 
praises  to  the  champion,  expatiated  in  a  long  digres- 
sion to  the  honour  of  Castor  and  Pollux.  Scopas, 
satisfied  in  appearance  with  the  performance  of  Simo- 
nides, paid  nun,  however,  only  the  third  part  of  the 
sum  agreed  on,  referring  him  for  the  remainder  to  the 
Tyndaridae,  whom  he  had  celebrated  so  well.  And  in 
fact  he  was  well  paid  by  them,  if  we  may  believe  the 
sequel;  for,  at  the  feast  given  by  the  champion,  whilst 
the  guests  were  at  table,  a  servant  came  to  Simonkles, 
and  told  him,  that  two  men,  covered  with  dust  and 
sweat,  were  at  the  door,  and  desired  to  speak  with 
him  in  all  haste.  He  had  scarce  set  his  foot  out  of  the 
chamber,  in  order  to  go  to  them,  when  the  roof  fell  in. 
and  crushed  the  champion,  with  all  his  guests,  to  death. 

Sculpture  united  with  poetry  to  perpetuate  the  fame 
of  the  champions.  Statues  were  erected  to  the  victor, 
especially  in  the  Olympic  games,  in  the  very  place 
where  they  had  been  crovvned,  and  sometimes  in  that 
of  their  birth  also;  which  was  commonly  done  at  the 
expenseof  theircountry.  Amongst  the  statues  which 
adorned  Olympia,  were  those  of  several  children  of 
ten  or  twelve  years  old,  who  had  obtained  the  prize  at 
that  age  in  the  Olympic  games.  They  did  not  only 
raise  such  monuments  to  the  champions,  but  to  the 
very  horses  to  whose  swiftness  they  were  indebted  for 
the  Agonistic  crown:  and  Pausanias8  mentions  one, 
which  was  erected  in  honour  of  a  mare,  called  Aura, 
whose  history  is  worth  repeating.  Phidolas  her  rider, 
having  fallen  off  in  the  beginning  of  the-race,  the  mare 
continued  to  run  in  the  same  manner  as  if  he  had  been 
upon  her  back.  She  outstripped  all  the  rest;  and 
upon  the  sound  of  the  trumpets,  which  was  usual 
towards  the  end  of  the  race  to  animate  the  competitors, 
she  redoubled  her  vigour  and  courage,  turned  round 
the  goal;  and,  as  if  she  had  been  sensible  that  she 
had  gained  the  victory,  presented  herself  before  the 
Judges  of  the  games.  The  Eleans  declared  Phidolas 
Tictor,  with  permission  to  erect  a  monument  to  him- 
se  f,  and  the  mare  that  had  served  him  »o  well. 

The  different  taste  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  in 
regard  to  the  Public  Shows, 

Before  I  make  an  end  to  these  remarks  upon  the 
combats  and  games  so  much  in  estimation  amongst 
the  Greeks,  I  beg  the  reader's  permission  to  make  a 
leflection,  that  may  serve  to  explain  the  difference  of 
character  between  the  Greeks  and  Romans  with 
regard  to  this  subject. 

The  most  common  entertainment  cf  the  latter,  at 


i  Cir.  <],.  Orat.  1.  ii.  n.  252,  253.     Phed.  1.  ii.  Fab.  24. 
Quintil.  1.  xi  e.  2. 
•  Lib,  v.  p  9C8. 


which  the  fair  sex,  by  nature  Under  and  compassion 
ate,  were  present  in  throngs,  was  tne  combat  of  the 
gladiators,  and  of  men  with  bears  and  lions;  in  which 
the  cries  of  the  wounded  and  dying,  and  the  abundant 
etfusion  of  human  blood,  supplied  a  gratelul  spectacle 
for  a  whole  people,  who  feasted  thtir  cruel  eyes  with 
the  savage  pleasure  of  seeing  men  murder  one  ano- 
ther in  cold  blood;  and  in  the  times  of  the  persecu- 
tions, with  the  tearing  in  pieces  of  old  men  anil  in- 
fants, of  women  and  tender  virgins,  whose  age  and 
weakness,  are  apt  to  excite  compassion  in  the  hardest 
hearts. 

In  Greece  these  combats  were  absolutely  unknown, 
and  were  only  introduced  into  some  cities  after  their 
subjection  to  the  Roman  people.  The  Athenians,9 
however,  whose  distinguishing  characteristics  were 
benevolence  and  humanity,  never  admitted  them  into 
their  city ;  and  when  it  was  proposed  to  introduce  the 
combats  of  the  gladiators,  that  they  might  not  lie  out- 
done by  the  Corinthians  in  that  point,  "  First  throw 
down,'  cried  out  an  Athenian  *  from  the  midst  of  the 
assembly,  "throw  down  the  altar,  erected  above  a 
tljoii-and  years  ago  by  our  ancestors  to  Mercv." 

It  mu«t  be  alloived  that  in  this  respect  the  conduct 
and  wisdom  of  the  Greeks  were  infinitely  superior  to 
that  of  the  Romans.  1  speak  of  the  wisdom  of  Pagans. 
Convinced  that  the  multitude,  too  much  governed  by 
the  objects  of  sense  to  be  sufficiently  amused  and 
entertained  with  the  pleasures  of  flie  understanding, 
could  be  delighted  only  with  sensible  objects,  both 
nations  were  studious  to  divert  them  with  games  and 
shows,  and  such  external  contrivances  as  were  prr^er 
to  affect  the  senses;  in  the  institution  of  whieh  each 
evinced  and  followed  its  peculiar  inclination  snd  dis- 
position. 

The  Romans,  educated  in  war,  and  accustomed  to 
battle,  always  retained,  notwithstanding  the  politeness 
upon  which  they  piqued  them-elves,  something  of 
their  ancient  ferocity;  and  thence  it  was,  that  tl  • 
effusion  of  blood,  and  the  murders  exhibited  in  the 
public  shows,  far  from  inspiring  them  with  horrol 
formed  a  grateful  entertainment  to  them. 

The  insolent  pomp  of  triumphsWlowed  from  the 
same  source,  and  argued  no  less  inhumanity.  To 
obtain  this  honour,  it  was  necessary  to  prove,  that 
eight  or  ten  thousand  men  had  been  killed  in  battle. 
The  spoils,  which  were  carried  with  so  much  ostenta- 
tion, proclaimed,  that  an  infinity  of  worthy  families 
had  been  reduced  to  the  utmost  misery.  The  innu- 
merable troop  of  captives  had  been  free  persons  a  few 
days  before,  and  were  often  distinguishable  for  honour, 
merit,  and  virtue.  The  representation  of  the  towns 
that  had  been  taken  in  the  war,  explained  that  they 
had  sacked,  plundered,  and  burnt,  the  most  opulent 
cities;  and  had  either  destroyed  or  enslaved  their 
inhabitants.  In  short,  nothing  was  more  inhuman, 
than  to  drag  kings  and  princes  in  chains  before  the 
chariot  of  a  Roman  citizen,  and  to  insult  their  misfor- 
tunes and  humiliation  in  that  public,  manner. 

The  triumphal  arches,  erected  under  the  emperors, 
where  the  enemies  appeared  with  chains  upon  their 
hands  and  legs,  could  proceed  only  from  a  haughty 
fierceness  of  disposition,  and  an  inhuman  pride,  that 
took  delight  in  immortalizing  the  shame  and  sorrow 
of  subjected  nations. 

The  joy  of  the  Greek*  after  a  victory  5  was  far  more 
modest.  They  erected  trophies,  indeed,  but  of  wood, 
a  jubilance  of  no  long  duration,  which  time  would 
*oon  consume;  and  these  it  wan  prohibited  to  renew. 
Plutarch's  rea«on  tor  this  is  admirable.6  After  time 
had  destroyed  and  obliterated  the  marks  of  di— •  M-I  MI 
and  enmity  that  had  divided  nations,  it  would  have 
been  the  excess  of  odious  and  barbarous  animosity  to 
have  thought  of  re-establishing  them,  to  perpetuate  the 
remembrance  of  ancient  quarrels,  which  could  not  be 


•  Lucian.  in  vit.  Demonact.  p.  1014. 

•  It    was    Demona.t,    a    celebrated    philosopher,  wlxwe 
disciple  Lucian  had   been.     He  flnuriined  in  (be  reign  of 
Marcus  AureliuK. 

»  Pint,  in  (}u»st.  Rnm.  p.  273. 

•  'On  icu  x*<"'«  T»  rmtt'im  riff  Tfi{  T»v<  raVipievc  tin. 


430 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


buried  too  soon  in  silence  and  oblivion.  He  adds,  that 
the  trophies  of  stone  and  brass,  since  substituted  to 
those  of  wood,  reflect  no  honour  upon  those  who  in- 
troduced che  custom. 

I  '  am  pleased  with  the  grief  depicted  on  Age- 
gilnus's  countenance,  after  a  considerable  victory, 
wherein  a  great  numberof  his  enemies,  that  is  to  say, 
of  Greeks,  were  left  upon  the  field,  and  to  hear  him 
utter,  with  sighs  and  groans,  these  words,  so  full  of 
moderation  and  humanity:  "  Oh,  unhappy  Greece,  to 
deprive  thyself  of  so  many  brave  citizens,  and  to  de- 
stroj'  those  who  had  been  sufficient  to  have  conquered 
all  the  Barbarians!" 

The  same  spirit  of  moderation  and  humanity  pre- 
vailed in  the  public  shows  of  the  Greeks.  Their  fes- 
tivals had  nothing  mournful  or  afflictive  in  them. 
Every  thing  in  those  feasts  tended  to  delight,  friend- 
ship, and  harmony;  and  in  that  consisted  one  of  the 
greatest  advantages  which  resulted  to  Greece  from 
the  solemnization  of  these  games.  The  republics,  se- 
parated by  distance  of  country  and  diversity  of  inte- 
rest, having  the  opportunity  of  meeting  from  time  to 
time.,  in  the  same  place,  and  in  the  midst  of  rejoicing 
and  festivity,  allied  themselves  more  strictly  with  one 
another,  stimulated  each  other  against  the  Barbarians 
and  the  common  enemies  of  their  liberty,  and  made 
up  their  differences  by  the  mediation  of  some  neutral 
state  in  alliance  with  them.  The  same  language, 
manners,  sacrifices,  exercises,  and  worship,  all  con- 
spired to  unite  the  several  little  states  of  Greece  intj 
one  great  and  formidable  nation;  and  to  preserve 
amongst  them  the  same  disposition,  the  same  princi- 
ples, tlie  same  zeal  for  their  liberty,  and  the  same  fond- 
ness for  the  arts  and  sciences. 

tifthe  Prizes  of  Wit,  and  the  Shows  and  Representa- 
tions of  the  Theatre. 

I  have  reserved,  for  the  conclusion  of  this  bend, 
another  kind  of  competition,  which  does  not  at  all 
depend  upon  the  strength,  activity,  and  address  of 
the  body,  and  may  be  called  with  reason  the  combat 
of  the  mind:  wherein  the  orators,  historians,  and  po- 
ets, made  trial«f  their  capacities,  and  submitted  their 
productions  to  the  censure  and  judgment  of  the  pub- 
lic. The  emulation  in  this  sort  ofdispute  was  so  much 
the  more  lively  and  ardent,  as  the  victory  in  question 
might  justly  be  deemed  to  be  infinitely  superior  to  all 
others,  because  it  affects  the  man  more  nearly,  is 
founded  on  his  personal  and  internal  qualities,  and 
decided  upon  the  merit  of  his  intellectual  capacity  ; 
which  are  advantages  we  are  apt  to  aspire  after  with 
the  utmost  vivacity  and  passion,  and  of  which  we  are 
least  of  all  inclined  to  renounce  the  glory  to  others. 

It  was  a  great  honour,  and  at  the  same  time  a  most 
sensible  pleasure,  for  writers,  who  are  generally  fond 
of  fame  and  applause,  to  have  known  how  to  unite  in 
their  favour  the  suffrages  of  so  numerous  and  select 
nn  assembly  as  that  of  the  Olympic  games;  in  which 
were  present  all  the  finest  geniuses  of  Greece,  and 
all  who  were  most  capable  of  judging  of  the  excel- 
lency of  a  work.  This  theatre  was  equally  open  to 
history,  eloquence,  and  poetry. 

Herodotus2  read  his  history  at  the  Olympic  games 
to  all  Greece,  assembled  at  them,  and  was  heard  with 
such  applause,  that  the  names  of  the  nine  Muses  were 
given  to  the  nine  books  which  compose  his  work,  and 
the  people  cried  out  wherever  he  passed,  "  That  is  he, 
who  has  written  our  history,  and  celebrated  our  glo- 
rious successes  against  the  Barbarians  so  excellently. 

All  who  had  been  present  at  the  games,  caused  af- 
terward every  part  of  Greece  to  resound  with  the 
name  and  glory  of  this  illustrious  historian. 

Lucian,  who  writes  the  fact  which  I  have  related, 
adds,  that  after  the  example  of  Herodotus,  many  of 
the  sophists  and  rhetoricians  went  to  Olympia,  to 
read  the  harangues  of  their  composing;  finding  that 
the  shortest  and  most  certain  method  of  acquiring  a 
great  reputation  in  a  little  time. 

Plutarch3  observes,  that  Lysius,  the  famous  Athe- 
nian orator,  contemporary  with  Herodotus,  pro- 


•  Plut.  in  Laoon.  Apophthegm,  p.  211. 

•  Lucian  in  Herod,  p.  622.        •  Flut.  do  vit.  OraL  p.  836. 


nounced  a  speech  in  the  Olympic  games,  wherein  !j« 
congratulated  the  Greeks  upon  their  reconciliation 
with  each  other,  and  their  having  united  to  reduct! 
the  power  of  Dionysius  the  Tyrant,  as  upon  the  great- 
est action  they  had  ever  done. 

We*  may  judge  of  the  eagerness  of  the  poets  to 
signalize  themselves  in  these  solemn  games,  from  that 
of  Dionysius  himself.  That  prince,  who  had  the 
foolish  vanity  to  believe  himself  the  most  excellent 
poet  of  his  time,  appointed  readers,  called  in  Greek, 
im|/*joi  (rhajisodis/s,)  to  read  several  pieces  of  his 
composing  at  Olympia.  When  they  began  to  pro- 
nounce the  verses  of  the  royal  poet,  the  strong  and 
harmonious  voices  of  the  readers  occasioned  a  pro- 
found silence,  and  they  were  heard  at  first  with  the 
greatest  attention,  which  continually  decreased  as 
they  went  on,  and  turned  at  last  into  downright  horse- 
laughs and  hooting;  so  miserable  did  the  verses  ap- 
pear. He5  comforted  himself  for  this  disgrace  by  a 
victory  he  gained  some  time  after  in  the  feast  of  Bac- 
chus at  Athens,  in  which  he  caused  a  tragedy  of  his 
composition  to  be  represented. 

The  disputes  of  the  poets  in  the  Olympic  games 
were  nothing  in  comparison  xvith  the  ardourand  emu- 
lation that  prevailed  at  Athens;  which  is  what  re- 
mains to  be  said  upon  this  subject,  and  therefore  I 
shall  conclude  with  it,  taking  occasion  to  give  my  rea- 
ders, at  the  same  time,  a  short  view  of  the  shows  and 
representations  of  the  theatre  of  the  ancients.  Those 
who  would  be  more  fully  informed  on  this  subject,  will 
find  it  treated  at  large  in  a  work  lately  made  public 
by  the  reverend  Father  Brumoi,  the  Jesuit;  a  work 
which  abounds  with  profound  knowledge  and  erudi- 
tion, and  with  reflections  entirely  new,  deduced  from 
the  nature  of  the  poems  »f  whfch  it  treats.  I  shall 
make  considerable  use  of  that  piece,  and  often  with- 
out citing  it;  which  is  not  uncommon  with  me. 
Extraordinary  Fondness  of  the  Athenians  for  the 

Entertainments  of  the  Stage.     Emulation  of  the 

Poets  in  disputing  the  Prizes  in  those  Represinla- 

tions.     A  short  Idea  of  Dramatic  Poetry. 

No  people  ever  expressed  so  much  ardour  and  ea- 
gerness for  the  entertainments  of  the  theatres  as  the 
Greeks,  and  especially  the  Athenians.  The  reason  is 
obvious;  as  no  people  ever  demonstrated  such  extent 
of  genius,  nor  carried  so  far  the  love  of  eloqiienreand 
poesy,  taste  for  the  sciences,  justness  of  sentiments 
elegance  of  ear,  and  delicacy  in  all  the  refinements  of 
language.  A  6  poorwoman  who  sold  herb?  at  Athens 
discovered  Theophrastus  to  be  a  stranger,  by  a  single 
word  which  he  affectedly  made  use  of  in  expressing 
himself.  The  common  people  got  the  tragedies  of 
Euripides  by. heart.  The  genius  of  every  nation  ex- 
presses itself  in  the  people's  manner  of  passing  their 
time,  and  in  their  pleasures.  The  great  employment 
and  delight  of  the  Athenians  were  to  amuse  them- 
selves with  works  of  wit,  and  to  judge  of  the  drama- 
tic pieces,  that  were  acted  by  public  authority  several 
times  a-year,  especially  at  the  feasts  of  Bacchus,  when 
the  tragic  and  comic  poets  disputed  for  the  prize. 
The  former  used  to  present  four  of  their  pieces  at  a 
time;  except  Sophocles,  who  did  not  think  fit  to  con- 
tinue so  laborious  an  exercise,  and  confined  himself 
to  one  performance,  when  he  disputed  the  prize. 

The  state  appointed  judges,  to  determine  upon  the 
merit  of  the  tragic  or  comic  pieces,  before  they  were 
represented  in  the  festivals.  They  were  acted  before 
them  in  the  presence  of  the  people;  but  undoubtedly 
with  no  great  preparation.  The  judges  gave  their 
suffrages,  and  that  performance,  which  had  the  most 
voices,  was  declared  victorious,  received  the  crown 
as  such,  and  was  represented  with  all  possible  pomp  at 
the  expense  of  the  republic.  This  did  not,  however, 
exclude  such  pieces,  as  were  only  in  the  second  or 
third  class.  The  best  had  not  always  the  preference; 
for  what  times  have  been  exempt  from  party,  caprice, 
ignorance,  and  prejudice?  jEIian7  is  very  angry  with 
the  judges,  who,  in  one  of  these  dispute?,  gave  only 


«  Diod.  I.  xiv.  p.  318.  •  Diod.  I.  xv.  p.  381. 

*  Attica  anus  Theophrastum,  hominem  alioqui  desert!*- 
nimum,  annotata  unius  affcctationo  verhi.  h OH  pi  torn  dixiti 
Quint.  1.  viii.  c.  1.  '  JElian,  i.  ii.  c,  3 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


431 


the  second  p'ace  to  Euripides.  He  accuses  them  of 
judging  either  without  ca|>acity,  or  of  suffering  them- 
selves to  be  bribed.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  the  warmth 
and  en. illation  which  these  disputes  and  public  re- 
wards excited  amongst  the  poets,  and  how  much  they 
contributed  to  the  perfection  to  which  Greece  car- 
ried dramatic  performances. 

The  dramatic  poem  introduces  the  persons  them- 
selves, speaking  and  acting  upon  the  stage:  in  the 
epic,  on  the  contrary,  the  poet  only  relates  the  dif- 
ferent adventures  of  his  characters.  It  is  natural  to 
be  delighted  with  fine  descriptions  of  events,  in  which 
illustrious  persons  and  whole  nations  are  interested; 
mnd  hence  the  epic  poem  had  its  origin.  But  we  are 
quite  differently  affected  with  hearing  those  persons 
themselves,  with  being  the  confidants  of  their  most 
•ecret  sentiments,  and  auditors  and  spectators  of  their 
resolutions,  enterprises,  and  the  happy  or  unhappy 
events  attending  them.  To  read  and  see  an  action, 
are  quite  different  things  ;  we  are  infinitely  more 
moved  with  what  is  acted,  than  with  what  we  merely 
reacl.  Our  eyes  us  well  as  our  minds  are  addressed  at 
the  same  time.  The  spectator,  agreeably  deceived  by 
an  imitation  so  nearly  approaching  life,  mistakes  the 
picture  for  the  original,  and  thinks  the  object  real. 
This  gave  birth  to  dramatic  poetry,  which  includes 
tragedy  and  comedy. 

To  these  may  be  added  the  satyric  poem,  which 
derives  its  name  from  the  satyrs,  rural  gods,  who  were 
always  the  chief  characters  in  it;  and  not  from  the 
falire,  a  kind  of  abusive  poetry,  which  has  no  resem- 
blance to  this,  and  is  of  a  much  later  date.  The 
satyric  poem  was  neither  tragedy  nor  comedv,  but 
something  between  both,  participating  of  the  charac- 
ter  of  each.  The  poets,  who  disputed  the  prize,  gene- 
rally added  one  of  these  pieces  to  their  tragedies,  to 
allay  the  gravity  and  solemnity  of  the  one,  with  the 
mirth  and  pleasantry  of  the  other.  There  is  but  one 
example  of  ibis  ancient  poem  come  down  to  us,  which 
is  the  Cyclops  of  Euripides. 

I  shall  confine  myself  upon  this  head  totragedy  and 
comedy;  both  which  had  their  origin  amongst  the 
Greeks,  who  looked  upon  them  as  fruits  of  their  own 
growth,  of  which  they  could  never  have  enough. 
Athens  was  remarkable  for  an  extraordinary  appetite 
of  this  kind.  These  two  poems,  which  were  for  a 
long  time  comprised  under  the  general  name  of  tra- 
gedy, received  there  by  degrees  such  improvements, 
at  at  length  raised  them  to  their  highest  perfection. 

The  Onet'n  and  Progress  of  Tragedy.  Poets  wJio 
excelled  in  it  at  Athens  ;  JEschylus,  Sophocles, 
and  Euripides. 

There  had  been  many  tragic  and  comic  poet*  be- 
fore Thespis;  but  as  they  had  made  no  alterations  in 
the  original  rude  form  of  this  poem,  and  as  Thespis 
was  the  first  that  made  any  improvement  in  it,  he  was 
generally  esteemed  its  inventor.  Before  him,  tragedy 
was  no  more  than  a  jumble  of  buffoon  tales  in  the 
cimic  style,  intermixed  with  the  singing  of  a  chorus 
in  praise  of  Bacchus;  for  it  is  to  the  feasts  of  that  god, 
celebrated  at  the  time  of  the  vintage,  that  tragedy 
owes  its  birth. 

La  trage'die,  informe  et  prossierc  en  naissant, 
N'e'oit  f|'uun  simple  rho?ur,  ou  chacun  en  d.insant. 
El  ilu  dipu  dps  raisin*  entonnant  los  louangcs, 
S'f'flrrenit  d'attirer  do  fertile*  vendangcg, 
LA.  le  vin  el  la  joie  eveillant  IPS  esprits, 
Du  plus  habile  chanirr  un  bour  etnil  IP  prix. 

Boiltau,  Art.  Poet,  chant,  iii. 
Formless  and  rroos  did  tragedy  arise, 
A  simple  chorus,  rather  mad  than  wise 
Fi>r  fruitful  vintages  the  dancins  throng 
Ruar'd  to  the  god  of  grapes  a  drunken  sang: 
Wild  mirth  and  wine  surtain'd  the  frantic  note, 
And  the  hest  eingcr  had  the  prize,  a  goat. 

Thespis  made  several  alterations  in  it,  which  Ho- 
race describes  after  Aristotle,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry. 
The  first,  'was  to  carry  his  actors  about  in  a  cart. 


»  Imotnm  tragic*1  genus  invenisse  camo?n» 
Dicitur,  et  plaustris  vexisse  poemata  Thespit, 
Qua  canereut  agemntque  peruncti  feribo*  ora. 

HOT.  dt  Art  Poet. 


whereas  before  they  used  to  sing  in  the  streets,  wher- 
ever chance  led  them.  Another  was  to  have  their 
faces  smeared  over  with  wine-lees,  instead  of  acting 
without  disguise,  as  at  first.  He  also  introduced  a 
character  among  the  chorus,  who,  to  give  the  actors 
time  to  rest  themselves  and  to  take  breath,  repeated 
the  adventures  of  some  illustrious  person;  which  re- 
cital, at  length,  gave  place  to  the  subiects  ol  tragedy. 

Thespis  fut  !e  premier,  qui  barbouille  de  lie, 
Promena  |»ar  IPS  Ixiurgs  cette  he  u  reuse  folie. 
El  d'aclpurs  mat  omen  chargpant  un  tombercau, 
Amu»a  Ics  persons  d'un  spectacle  nouvpau. 

Boiltau.  Art.  Pott,  chant,  iii. 
First  Thcspis,  smrar'd  with  Ipes,  and  void  of  art, 
The  grateful  folly  vented  from  a  cart ; 
An:l  as  these  tawdry  actors  drove  about. 
The  sight  was  new,  and  charm'd  the  gaping  rout. 

Thespis*  lived  in  the  time  of  Solon. 
That  wise  legislator,  upon  seeing  his       A.  M.  3440. 
pieces  performed,  expressed   his  c'is-    Ant.  J.  C.  56-1 
like,  by  striking  his  start   against  the 
ground  ;    apprehending  that  these  poetical   fictions 
and  idle  stories,  from  mere  theatrical  representations 
would  soon  become  matters  of  importance,  and  have 
too  great  a  share  in  all  public  and  private  affairs. 

It  i*  not  so  easy  to  invent,  as  to  'in- 
prove  the  inventions  of  others.  The  A.  M.  3464. 
alterations  Thespis  made  in  tragedy,  Ant.  J.  C.  540. 
gave  room  for  jEschylus  to  make 
new  and  more  considerable  of  his  own.  He  was  born 
at  Athens,  in  the  first  year  of  the  sixtieth  Olympiad. 
He  took  upon  him  the  profession  of  arms,  at  a  iime 
when  the  Athenians  reckoned  almost  as  many  heroes 
as  citizens.  He  was  at  the  battles  of  Marathon,  Sa- 
lami*, and  Plataea,  where  he  did  his  duty.  -But  his 
disposition  called  him  elsewhere,  and  put  him  upon 
entering  into  another  course,  where 
no  less  glory  was  to  be  acquired;  and  A.  M.  3514. 
where  he  was  soon  without  any  com-  Ant.  J.  C.  490. 
petitors.  As  a  su|>erior  genius,  he 
took  upon  him  to  reform,  or  rather  to  create  tragedy 
anew;  of  which  he  has,  in  consequence,  been  always 
acknowledged  the  inventor  and  father.  Father  Bru- 
mio,  in  a  desertation  which  abounds  with  wit  and 
ijood  sense,  explains  the  manner  in  which  £schylus 
conceived  the  true  idea  of  tragedy  from  Homer's  epic 
poems.  The  poet  himself  used  to  say,  that  his  works 
were  the  remnants  of  the  feasts  given  by  Homer  in 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey. 

Tragedy,  therefore,  took  a  new  form  under  him. 
He  gave  masks3  to  his  actors,  adorned  them  with 
robes  and  trains,  and  made  them  wear  buskins.  In- 
stead of  a  cart  he  erected  a  theatre  of  a  moderate  ele- 
vation, and  entirely  changed  their  style;  which  from 
being  merry  «nd  burlesque,  as  at  first,  became  ma- 
jestic and  serious. 

E»chyle  dans  le  cheer  jetta  leu  personages  : 
D'un  masque  plus  honnete  haliilla  IP*  visapc*  : 
Sur  les  sis  d'un  theatre  en  public  exhausse 
Fit  paroitre  1'uctcur  d'un  bnxlerjuin  chausse. 

Boileau.  Art.  Poet. 

From  jEschylus  the  chorus  learnt  new  grace  : 
He  rcil'd  with  decent  masks  the  actor's  face. 
Taught  him  in  buskins  first  to  ircad  the  stage, 
And  raised  a  theatre  lo  please  the  ago. 

But  that  was  only  the  external  part  or  body  of  tra- 
gedy. Its  soul,  which  was  the  most  important  ana 
essential  addition  of  jEschylus,  consisted  in  the  viva- 
city and  spirit  of  the  action,  sustained  by  the  dialogue 


When  Thespis  first  exposed  the  tragic  Muse, 
Rude  were  the  actors,  and  a  cart  the  scene. 
Where  ghastly  faces,  nmear'd  with  lees  uf  wine, 
Frighted  the  children,  and  amused  the  crowd. 

Roseom.  Art.  qf  Pttt 

•  Plut.  in  Solon,  p.  95. 

•  Pout  hunc  persons  palla>que  reporter  honesta; 
jfNchylus.  et  modicis  instravit  pulpita  1  it'll i«, 
Et  docuit  magnumque  loqui,  nhique  cothuriio. 

Hor.  de  Art   Put. 

This  ,C<chylux  (with  indignation)  «aw. 
And  built  a  stage,  found  out  a  decent  dref*, 
Brought  vizards  in,  a  civiler  disguise. 
And  taught  men  how  to  tpeak  and  how  to  act. 

Eoseom.  Art.  Put 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


ot  the  persons  of  the  drama,  introduced  by  him — in 
the  arllul  working  up  of  the  stronger  passions,  espe- 
cially of  terror  and  pity,  which,  by  alternately  afflict- 
ing and  agitating  the  soul  with  mournful  or  terrible 
objects,  produce  a  grateful  pleasure  and  delight  from 
that  very  trouble  and  emotion — in  the  choice  of  a  sub- 
ject, great,  noble,  interesting,  and  contained  within 
due  bounds  by  the  unity  of  time,  place,  and  action: 
in  short,  it  is  the  conduct  and  disposition  of  the  whole- 
piece,  which,  by  the  order  and  harmony  of  its  parts, 
and  the  happy  connection  of  its  incidents  and  in- 
trigues, holds  the  mind  of  the  spectator  in  suspense 
till  the  catastrophe,  and  then  restores  him  his  tran- 
quillity, and  dismisses  him  with  satisfaction. 

The  chorus  had  been  established  before  jEscliylus, 
as  it  composed  alone,  or  next  to  alone,  what  was  then 
failed  tragedy.  He  did  not  therefore  exclude  it,  but 
on  the  contrary,  thought  fit  to  incorporate  it,  to  sing 
as  chorus  between  the  acts.  Thus  it  supplied  the  in- 
terval of  resting-,  and  was  a  kind  of  person  of  the 
drama,  employed  '  either  in  giving  useful  advice,  and 
salutary  instructions,  in  espousing  the  party  of  inno- 
cence and  virtue,  in  being  the  depository  of  secrets, 
and  the  avenger  of  violated  religion,  or  in  sustaining 
all  those  characters  at  the  same  time,  according  to 
Horace.  The  coryphaeus,  or  principal  person  of  the 
chorus,  spoke  for  the  rest. 

In  one  of  j£schyliis's  pieces,  called  the  Cumenides, 
the  poet  represents  Orestes  at  the  bottom  of  the  stage, 
surrounded  by  the  furies,  laid  asleep  by  Apollo.  Their 
figure  must  have  been  extremely  horrible,  as  it  is  re- 
lated, that  u|x>n  their  waking  and  appearing  tumul- 
tuously  on  the  theatre,  where  they  were  to  act  as  a 
chorus,  some  women  miscarried  with  the  surprise,  and 
several  children  died  of  tht-  fright.  The  chorus  at 
that  time  consisted  of  fifty  actors.  After  this  acci- 
dent, it  was  reduced  to  fifteen  by  an  express  law,  and 
at  length  to  twelve. 

I  have  observed,  that  one  of  the  alterations  made 
by  £iehylM  in  tragedy,  was  the  mask  worn  by  his 
actors.  These  dramatic  masks  had  no  resemblance 
to  ours,  which  only  cover  the  face,  but  were  a  kind 
of  case  for  the  whole  head,  and  which,  besides  the 
features,  represented  the  beard,  the  hair,  the  ears,  and 
even  the  ornaments  used  by  women  in  their  head- 
dresses. These  masks  varied  according  to  the  differ- 
ent pieces  that  were  acted.  The  subject  is  treated  at 
large  in  a  dissertation  of  M.  Boindin's,  inserted  in  the 
Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of  Belles  Let/res.2 

I  could  never  comprehend,  p.s  1  have  observed,3  in 
speaking  of  pronunciation,  how  masks  came  to  con- 
tinue so  long  upon  the  stage  of  the  ancients;  for  cer- 
tainly they  could  not  be  used,  without  considerably 
deadening  the  spirit  of  the  action,  which  is  princi- 
pally expressed  in  the  countenance,  the  seat  and  mir- 
ror of  what  passes  in  the  soul.  Does  it  not  often 
happen,  that  the  blood,  according  as  it  is  put  in  motion 
by  different  passions,  sometimes  covers  the  face  with 
a  sudden  and  modest  blush,  sometimes  inflames  it  with 
the  heat  of  rage  and  fury,  sometimes  retires,  leaving 
it  pale  wiih  fear,  and  at  others  diffuses  a  calm  and 
amiable  serenity  over  it  1  All  these  affections  are 
Strongly  imaged  and  distinguished  in  the  lineaments 
of  the  face.  The  mask  deprives  the  features  of  this 


•  Actnria  partc*  chorus  officiumque  virile 
|Vtcndat.  ncu  quid  media?  Intcrrinat  aclua, 
UU.K!  non  propotito  conducat.  et  ha-rrat  npte. 
Illo  honi*  favcatque,  et  cnncilintur  amicis, 
Et  rejnt  irains.  et  amct  pencare  tinii.-ntea. 
lllu  dii|M.-s  luudei  mensic  lirrvis  ;  ille  jalubrem 
Juioiiiam.  le«e*|ue,  et  aportis  olia  poriis. 
Illc  terat  comrnisga.  d'-o*<|ue  prccetur  ct  oret, 
Ul  n-ricut  mifcrix,  attest  fort  mm  superliis. 

Hor.  dg  jfrt.  Poet. 

The  ehoro*  ihould  supply  what  action  wants, 
And  lialh  a  jrenerous  and  manly  part ; 
Bridles  wild  rnje.  loves  ri»i<l  honenty, 
And  flrirt  observance  i>f  impartial  laws, 
Bnhrirty,  ncruritjr,  and  peace. 
AnH  ho-;*  the  eodslo  turn  Idiml  Fortune'*  whpcl, 
To  raise  the  wrrlcheH,  and  pull  down  the  proud; 
But  nothii"  must  lie  suns  Iwtwoen  the  nets, 
Bui  what  someway  conduce*  to  the  plot 

Roxetm.  Art.  of  Poetry  translat. 
•  Vol.  ir.  «  Manner  of  Teaching,  rol.  iv. 


energetic  language,  and  of  that  life  and  ?oui,  by  h  on 
it  is  tne  faithful  interpreter  of  all  the  sentinieius  of  th« 
heart.  I  do  not  wonder,  therefore,  at  Cicero's  re 
mark  upon  the  action  of  Rosrius.*  "  Our  ancestors  ' 
says  he,  "  were  better  judges  than  we  are.  They 
could  not  wholly  approve  even  Rosciu?  himself  whilst 
he  performed  in  a  mask." 

#>chylus  was  in  the  sole  possession  of  the  glory  of 
the  stage,  with  almost  every  voice  in  his  favor,  when 
a  voting  rival  made  his  appearance  to  dispute  the 
palm  with  him.  This  was  Sophocles. 
He  was  born  at  Colonos,  a  town  in  A.  M.  3509 
Attica,  in  the  second  year  of  the  Ant.  J.  C.  495. 
seventy-first  Olympiad.  His  father 
was  a  blacksmith,  or  one  who  kept  people  of  that 
trade  to  work  for  him.  His  first  essav  was  a  master- 
piece. When,  upon  the  occasion  of  Chiton's  having 
found  the  bones  of  Theseus,  and  their  being  brought 
to  Athens,  a  dispute  between  the  tragic  poets  was  ap- 
pointed, Sophocles  entered  the  lists 
with  jEsrhvius,  and  carried  the  prize  A.  M.  3534. 
against  him.  The  ancient  victor.  Ant. . I.  C.  470. 
laden  till  then  with  the  wreaths  he 
had  acquired,  believed  them  all  lost  by  failing  of  the 
last,  and  withdrew  in  disgust  into  Sicily  to  king 
Hiero,  the  protector  and  patron  of  all  the  learned  in 
disgrace  at  Athens.  He  died  there  soon  after  in  a 
very  singular  manner,  if  we  may  be  I  i  eye  Suidas.  As 
he  lay  asleep  in  the  fields,  with  tiis  head  bare,  an  ea- 
ijle,  taking  his  bald  crown  for  a  stone,  let  a  tortoise 
fall  upon  it,  which  killed  him.  Of  ninety,  or  at  le.n-.t 
seventy  tragedies,  composed  by  him,  only  seven  are 
now  extant. 

Nor  have  those  of  Sophocles  escaped  the  injury  of 
time  better,  though  one  hundred  and  seventeen  in 
number,  and  according  to  some,  one  hundred  and 
thirty.  He  retained  to  extreme  old  age  all  the  force 
and  vigour  of  his  genius,  as  appears  from  a  ciivtim- 
stance  in  his  history.  His  children,  unworthy  of  so 
great  a  father,  upon  pretence  that  he  had  lost  his 
senses,  summoned  him  before  the  judges,  in  order  to 
obtain  a  decree,  that  his  estate  might  be  taken  from 
him,  and  put  into  their  hands.  He  made  no  other  de- 
fence, than  to  rend  a  tragedy  he  was  at  that  time  com- 
po«iiiij,  culled  (Edipiis  at  'Colonos,  with  which  the 
judges  were  so  charmed,  that  he  carried  his  cause 
unanimously;  and  his  children,  detested  by  the  whole 
assembly,  got  nothing  by  their  suit,  but  the  shame  and 
infamy  due  to  so  flagrant  ingratitude.  He  was  twenty 
times  crowned  victor.  Some  say  he  expired  re- 
peating his  Antigone,  for  want  of  power  to  r<  cover 
his  breath,  after  a  violent  endeavour  to  pronounce  a 
long  period  to  the  end;  others,  that  he  died  of  joy 
upon  his  being  declared  victor,  contrary  to  his  i  \- 
pectation.  The  figure  of  a  hive  was  placet!  upon  his 
tomb,  to  perpetuate  the  name  of  Bee,  which  had  been 
given  him,  from  the  sweetness  of  his  verses:  H  hence 
it  is  probable,  the  notion  was  derived  of  the  bees 
having  settled  upovi  his  lips,  when  in  his  cradle.  He 
died  in  his  ninetieth  year,  the  fourth 
of  the  ninety-third  Olympiad,  after  A.M.  3599, 
having  survived  Kuripides  six  years,  Ant.  J.  C.  405. 
who  was  not  so  old  as  himself. 

The  latter  was  born  in  the  first  vear 
of  the  seventy-fifth  Olympiad, at  S;da-  A.  M.  3524. 
mis.  whither  his  father  Mnesarchus  Ant.  J.C.  4tfO 
and  mother  Clito  had  retired,  when 
Xerxes  was  prepering  for  his  great  expedition  agains*. 
Greece.  He  applied  himself  at  first  to  philosophy, 
and,  amongst  others,  had  the  celebrated  Annxagoras 
for  hi*  master.  But  the  clanger  incurred  by  ttttit  great 
man,  who  wns  very  near  being:  made  the  \'ictim  of  his 
philosophical  tenets,  inclined  him  to  the  study  of  po- 
etry. He  discovered  in  himself  a  genius  for  the  dra- 
ma, unknown  to  him  at  first;  and  employed  it  v.'ith 
such  success,  that  he  entered  the  li*ts  with  the  great 
masters  of  whom  we  have  been  speaking.  His  5  ivorks 
sufficiently  denote  his  profound  application  to  ohilo- 


«  tlufl  molins  mmri  itli  genon,  <jul  personatum,  nr  K<-« 
rium  (giiidem,  rnagnoperc  laudabant.  Lit.  iii,  <le  Oral,  n 
22J. 

•  Scntentiii  rVnuu*.  ct  in  iis  qusx  a  ftapiertihns  sunt  peni 
ipsis  eiU  (HUT.  Quintil.  I.  x.  C.  ]. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


433 


•ophy.  They  abound  with  excellent  m.ixims  of  mo- 
rality :  and  it  is  in  that  view  that  Socrates  in  his  time, 
»nd  Cicero1  long  after  him,  get  so  high  a  value  upon 
Euripides. 

One  cannot  sufficiently  admire  the  extreme  delicacy 
expressed  bv  the  Athenian  audience  on  certain  occa- 
«ions,  and  their  solicitude  to  preserve  the  reverence 
due  to  morality,  virtue,  decency,  and  justice.  It  is 
surprising  to  observe  the  warmth  with  which  they 
unanimously  reproved  whatever  seemed  inconsistent 
with  them,  and  called  the  poet  to  an  account  lor  it, 
notwithstanding  his  having  a  well-founded  excuse,  as 
he  had  given  such  sentiments  only  to  persons  notori- 
ously vicious,  and  actuated  by  the  most  unjust  pas- 
sions. 

Euripides  had  put  into  the  mouth  of  Bellerophon  a 
pompous  panegyric  upon  riches,  which  concluded 
with  this  thought:  "  Riche?  are  the  supreme  good  of 
the  Imman  rare,  and  with  reason  excite  the  admira- 
tion of  the  gods  and  men."  The  whole  theatre  cried 
out  a:rniii«t  these  expressions  ;  and  he  would  have 
been  banished  direct!  v,  if  he  had  not  desired  the  stn- 
teoce  to  be  respited  till  the  conclusion  of  the  piece, 
in  which  the  advocate  for  riches  perished  mistrablv. 

He  was  indanger  of  in  curring  serious  inconveni- 
ences from  an  answer  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Hyppolytus.  Phaedra's  nurse  represented  to  him, 
that  he  had  engaged  himself  under  an  inviolable  oath 
to  keep  her  sicret.  "My  tongue,  it  is  true,  pro- 
nounced that  oath,"  replied  he,  "  but  my  heart  gave 
no  consent  to  it."  This  frivolous  distinction  appear- 
ed to  the  whole  people,  as  an  express  contempt  of  the 
religion  and  sanctity  of  an  oath,  that  tended  to  banish 
all  sincerity  and  good  faith  from  society  and  the  in- 
tercourse ol  life. 

Another  maxim*  advanced  by  Eteocles  in  the  tra- 
gedy called  the  Phoenicians,  and  which  Ca?sar  had 
alwa\$  in  his  mouth,  is  no  less  pernicious:  "  If  justice 
may  be  violated  at  all,  it  is  when  a  throne  is  in  ques- 
tion; in  other  resects,  let  it  be  dulv  revered."  It  is 
highly  criminal  in  Eteocles,  or  rather  in  Euripides, 
says,  ("icero,  to  make  an  exception  in  that  very  point 
wherein  *uch  violation  is  the  highest  crime  that  can 
be  committed.  Eteocles  is  a  tvrant,  and  speaks  like 
a  tyrant,  who  vindicates  his  unjust  conduct  by  a  faUe 
maxim;  and  it  is  not  strange  that  Caesar,  who  was  a 
tyrant  by  nature,  and  equally  unjust,  should  lay  great 
stress  upon  the  sentiments  of  a  prince  whom  he  so 
much  resembled.  But  what  is  remarkable  in  Cicero, 
i*  his  fall 'mi;  upon  the  poet  himself,  and  imputing  to 
him  as  a  crime,  the  having  advanced  so  pernicious  a 
principle  upon  the  stage. 

Lycurgus,3  the  orator,  who  lived  in  the  time  of 
Philip  and  Alexander  the  Great,  to  re-animate  the 
spirit  of  the  tragic  poets,  caused  three  statues  of  brass 
to  be  erected,  in  the  name  of  the  people,  to  jEschy- 
lus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripidrs;  and  having  ordered 
their  works  to  be  transcribed,  he  appointed  them  to 
be  carefullv  pn  served  amongst  the  public  archives, 
from  whence  they  were  taken  from  time  to  time  to  be 
read;  the  players  not  being  permitted  to  represent 
them  on  the  *tage. 

The  reader  expects,  no  doubt,  after  what  has  been 
said  relating  to  the  three  poet«.  who  invented,  im- 
proved, and  carried  tragedy  to  its  perfection,  that  I 
should  point  out  the  peculiar  excellencies  of  their 
ttyle  and  character.  For  that  I  must  refer  to  Father 
Brumoi,  who  will  do  it  much  better  than  it  is  in  my 
power.  A  fu  r  having  laid  down,  as  an  undoubted  prin- 
ciple, that  the  epic  poem,  that  is  to  say  Homer,  point- 
ed out  the  way  for  the  tragic  poets;  and  haying  de- 


monstrated, by  reflections  drawn  from  human  nature 
upon  what  principles  and  by  what  degrees,  this  happy 
imitation  was  conducted  to  its  end;  he  goes  on  to 
describe  the  three  poets  above-mentioned,  in  the  most 
hvt  ly  and  brilliant  colours. 

Tragedy  took  at  first  from  .Sschylus,  its  inventor, 
a  much  more  lofty  style  than  the  Iliad;  that  is,  tht 
magnum  loqui  mentioned  by  Horace.  Ptrhaps  2Es- 
clu  lus,  who  had  a  full  conception  of  the  grandeur  of 
the  language  of  tragedv,  carried  it  too  high.  It  is  not 
Homer's  trumpet,  but  something  more.  His  pom- 
pous, swelling,  gigantic  diction,  resembles  rather  the 
beating  of  drums  and  the  shouts  of  battle,  than  the 
noble  harmony  of  the  trumpets.  The  elevation  and 
grandeur  of  his  genius  would  not  permit  him  to  speak 
the  language  of  other  men,  so  that  his  muse  seemed 
rather  to  walk  in  stilts,  than  in  the  buskins  of  his  own 
invention. 

Sophocles  understood  much  better  the  true  excel- 
lence of  the  dramatic  stvle:  he  therefore  copies  Ho- 
mer more  closely,  and  blends  in  his  diction  that  ho- 
neved  sweetness.  Irom  whence  he  was  denominated 
the  Bee,  with  a  gravity  that  gives  his  tragedv  the  mo- 
dest air  of  a  matron,  compelled  to  appear  in  public 
with  dignity,  as  Horace  expresses  it. 

The  sty  le  of  Euripides,  though  noble,  is  less  remover! 
from  the  familiar;  and  he  seems  to  have  affected  ra- 
ther the  pathetic  and  the  elegant,  than  the  nervous 
and  the  lofty. 

As  Corneille,  says  Father  Brumoi  in  another  p'ace, 
after  having  opened  to  himself  a  path  entirely  new 
a:-.;i  unknown  to  the  ancients,  seems  like  an  eagle  tow- 
ering in  the  clouds,  from  the  sublimity,  force,  unbro- 
ken progress,  and  rapidity  in  his  (light;  and,  as  Ra- 
cine, in  copying  the  ancients  in  a  manner  entirelv  his 
own,  imitates  the  swan,  that  sometimes  floats  upon 
the  air,  sometimes  rises,  then  falls  again,  with  an  ele- 
gnnce  of  motion,  and  a  grace  peculiar  to  herself;  so 
^Eschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides,  have  each  of 
them  a  particular  characteristic  and  method.  The 
first,  as  the  inventor  and  father  of  tragedy,  is  like  a 
torrent  rolling  impetuously  over  rocks,  forests,  and 
precipices;  the  second  resembles  a  canal4  which  flows 
gently  through  delicious  gardens;  and  the  third  a 
river,  that  does  not  follow  its  course  in  a  continued 
line  but  loves  to  turn  and  wind  his  silver  wave  through 
flowery  meads  and  rural  scenes. 

This  is  the  character  which  Father  Brumoi  gives  of 
the  three  poets,  to  whom  the  Athenian  stage  was 
indebted  for  its  perfection  in  tragedy.  jEschylus§ 
drew  it  out  of  its  original  chaos  and  confusion,  and 
made  it  appear  in  some  degree  of  lustre;  but  it  still 
retained  the  rude  unfinished  air  of  things  in  their  be- 
ginning, which  are  generally  defective  in  point  of  art 
and  method.  Sophocles  and  Euripides  added  infi- 
nitely to  the  dignity  of  tragedy.  The  style  of  the 
first,  as  has  been  observed,  is  more  noble  a'nd  majes- 
tic; of  the  latter  more  tender  and  pathetic;  each  per- 
fect in  their  way.  In  this  diversity  of  character,  it  is 
difficult  to  decide  which  is  most  excellent.  The 
learned  have  always  been  divided  upon  this  head ;  at 
we  are  at  this  day,  with  respect  to  the  two6  |K>ets  ol 
our  own  nation,  whose  tragedies  hare  made  our  stage 
illustrious,  and  not  inferior  to  that  of  Athens. 

I  have  observed,  that  the  tender  and  pathetic  dis- 
tinguishes the  compositions  of  Euripides,  of  which 
Alexander  of  Phene,  the  most  cruel  of  tyrants  was  a 
proof.  That  barbarous  man,  upon  seeing  the  Troadu 
of  Euripides  acted,  found  himself  so  moved  with  it, 
that  he  quitted  the  theatre  before  the  conclusion  of 
the  play;  professing  that  he  was  ashamed  to  be  seen 
in  tears  for  the  distress  of  Hecuba  and  Andromache, 


I  Cni  (Euripidi)  tu   quantum  rrcdas    nescio;   ego  cent  | 
liugulos  ejiis  versus  liugula  testimony  puto.     Epitt.  viii.  1. 
14.  md  Famil. 

•  I|i«e  aiitom  sor*r  (Ca?rar)  in  ore  semper  Greco*  vemu> 
Ennpid'S  do   Plxvntssi*  halx'lmt.  qu»s  dicam  ut  potero,   in 
•ondne  f.irtusse,  aed  lamen  ut  res  poseit  intclligi : 

XITTI.  ni  violandume*t  jus.  regnandi  ffratii 
Yinlnndum  est ;  aliis  rebus  pietatem  colas, 

Capitals  Eteorlen,  rel  potiiii  Euripides,  qui  id  unum.  qnod 
WBniom  srrlratissimum  (Writ,  exr.e  writ.     Offie.  1.  iii.  n.  32. 

•  Plut.  in  vit.  i.  oral.  p.  841. 

VOL.  1-55 


•  I  know  not  whether  the  idea  of  a  canal  that  Jltnet  pently 
through  delicious  pardrnt.  if  well  adapted  to  designate   iho 
character  of  Sophoclei,  which  is  peculiarly  di-tinpuished  bjr 
nobleness,  grandeur,  and  elevation.     That  of  in  imprlcooi 
and  rapid   stream,  whose  wavr«,  from  the  vkJence  of  their 
motion,  are  loud,  and  to  be  heard  afar  off,  seem*  to  me  • 
mor>>  suitable  intake  of  that  poet. 

•  Tra«ra?dias  primus  in   lurem   ^Esrhylu*   prolulit:  iuNi- 
mis  et    rrnvis.  et  -randiloquos  Mepc  usque  ad   vitium  ;  m4 
rudis  in  pk'risque  et  inrompojitu*.     (£ui*til.  1.  x.  e.  1» 

•  Corneille  and  Racine. 

2  M 


434 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


who  had  never  shown  the  least  compassion  for  his 
own  citizen?,  of  whom  he  had  butchered  surli  numbers. 

When  I  speak  of  the  tender  and  pathetic,  I  would 
not  be  understood  to  mean  a  passion  that  softens  the 
heart  into  effeminacy,  and  which,  to  our  reproach,  i« 
almost  alone,  or  at  least  more  than  any  other  passion, 
received  upon  our  stage,  though  rejected  by  the  an- 
cients, and  condemned  by  the  nations  around  us  of 
greatest  reputation  for  their  genius,  and  taste  for  the 
sciences  and  polite  learning-.  The  two  great  princi- 
ples for  moving  the  passions  amongst  the  ancients, 
were  terror  and  pity.1  And  indeed,  as  we  naturally 
refer  every  thing  to  ourselves,  or  our  own  particular 
interest,  when  we  see  persons  of  exalted  rank  or  virtue 
•inking  under  great  evils,  the  fear  of  the  like  misfor- 
tunes, with  which  we  know  that  human  life  is  on  all 
sides  invested,  seizes  upon  us,  and  from  a  secret  im- 
pulse of  self  love,  we  find  ourselves  sensibly  affected 
with  the  distresses  of  others;  besides  which,  the  sha- 
ring a*  common  nature  with  the  rest  of  our  species, 
makes  us  sensible  to  whatever  befalls  them.  Upon  a 
close  and  attentive  inquiry  into  those  two  passions, 
they  will  be  found  the  most  deeply  inherent,  active, 
extensive  and  general,  affections  of  the  soul;  inclu- 
ding all  orders  of  men,  great  and  small,  rich  and  poor, 
of  whatever  age  or  condition.  Hence  the  ancients, 
accustomed  to  consult  nature,  and  to  take  her  for  their 
guide  in  all  things,  with  reason  conceived  terror  and 
compassion  to  be  the  soul  of  tragedy;  and  that  those 
affections  ought  to  prevail  in  it.  The  passion  of  lo»e 
was  in  no  estimation  amongst  them,  and  had  seldom 
any  share  in  their  dramatic  pieces;  though  with  us  it 
is  a  received  opinion,  that  they  cannot  be  supported 
without  it. 

It  is  worth  our  trouble  to  examine  briefly  in  what 
manner  this  passion,  which  has  always  been  deemed 
a  weakness  and  a  blemish  in  the  greatest  characters, 
got  such  footing  upon  our  stage.  Corneille.  who  was 
the  first  who  brought  the  French  tragedy  to  any  per- 
fection, and  whom  all  the  rest  have  followed,  found 
the  whole  nation  enamoured  with  the  perusal  of  ro- 
mances, and  little  disposed  to  admire  any  thing  not 
resembling  them.  From  the  desire  of  pleading  hit  au- 
dience, who  were  at  the  same  time  his  judges,  he  en- 
deavoured to  move  them  in  the  manner  they  had  been 
accustomed  to  be  affected;  and,  by  introducing  love 
in  his  scenes,  to  bring  them  the  nearer  to  the  pre- 
dominant taste  of  the  age  for  romance.  From  the 
same  source  arose  that  multiplicity  of  incidents,  epi- 
sodes, and  adventures,  with  which  our  tragic  pieces 
are  crowded  and  obscured ;  so  contrary  to  probability, 
which  will  not  admit  such  a  number  of  extraordinary 
and  surprising  events  in  the  short  space  of  four-and"- 
twenty  hours;  so  contrary  to  the  simplicity  of  ancient 
tragedy;  and  so  adapted  to  conceal,  by  the  assem- 
blage of  so  many  different  objects,  the  sterility  of  the 
genius  of  a  poet,  more  intent  upon  the  marvellous 
than  upon  the  probable  and  natural. 

Both  the  Greeks  and  Romans  have  preferred  the 
iambic  to  the  heroic  verse  in  their  tra-jedies;  not  only 
because  the  first  has  a  kind  of  dignity  better  adapted 
to  the  stage,  but,  whilst  it  approaches  nearer  to  prose, 
retains  safficiently  the  air  of  poetry  to  please  the  ear: 
•nd  yet  has  too  little  of  it  to  put  the  audience  in  mind 
of  the  poet,  who  ought  not  to  appear  at  all  in  repre- 
sentations, where  other  persons  are  supposed  to  speak 
and  act.  Monsieur  Dacier  makes  a  very  just  reflec- 
tion on  this  subject.  He  says,  that  it  is  the  misfor- 
tune of  our  tragedy  to  have  almost  no  other  verse 
than  what  it  has  in  common  with  epic  poetry,  elegy, 
pastoral,  satire,  and  comedy ;'  whereas  the  learned 
languages  have  a  great  variety  of  versification. 

This  inconvenience  is  highly  obvious  in  our  trage- 
dv;  which  consequently  is  obliged  to  lose  sight  of 
nature  and  probability,  as  it  obliges  heroes,  princes, 
kings,  and  queens,  to  express  themselves  in  a  pompous 
strain  in  their  familiar  conversation,  which  it  would 
be  ridiculous  to  attempt  in  real  life.  The  giving  ut- 
terance to  the  most  impetuous  passions  in  a  uniform 
cadence,  and  by  hemistichs  and  rhymes,  would  nn- 

I    *:£:{    xxi    fXDf 

Homo  tum  :  hnmani  nihil  a  me  aliennm  puto.     Ttr. 


doubtedly  be  tedious  and  offensive  to  the  ear,  if  fhe 
charms  of  poetry,  the  elegance  of  expression,  and  the 
spirit  of  sentiments,  and  perhaps,  more  than  all  of 
them,  the  resistless  force  of  custom,  had  not  in  a  man- 
iier  subjected  our  reason,  and  spread  a  veil  before  our 
judgment. 

It  was  not  chance,  therefore,  which  suggested  to  the 
Greeks  the  use  of  iambics  in  their  tr^gtvly.  Nature 
itself  seems  to  have  dictated  that  kind  of  verse  to 
them.  Instructed  by  the  same  unerring  guide,  they 
made  choice  of  a  different  versification  for  the  chorus, 
better  adapted  to  the  motions  of  the  dance,  and  the 
variations  of  the  song;  because  it  was  neces-ary  t'oi 
poetry  here  to  shine  out  in  all  its  lustre,  whilst  tho 
mere  conversation  between  the  real  actors  was  sus- 
pended. The  chorus  was  an  embellishment  of  th« 
representation,  and  a  relaxation  to  the  audience, ant 
therefore  required  more  exalted  poetry  and  number, 
to  support  it,  when  united  with  music  and  dancing. 

Of  the  Old,  Middle,  and  Jfno  Csmedy. 

Whilst  tragedy  was  thus  rising  to  perfection  at 
Athens,  comedy,  the  second  species  of  dramatic  poe- 
try, and  which,  till  then,  had  been  much  neglected, 
began  to  be  cultivated  with  more  attention.  IS'ature 
was  the  cc.mmor.  parent  of  both.  We  are  sensibly 
affected  with  the  dangers, distresses,  misfortunes,  and, 
in  a  word,  with  whatever  relates  to  the  lives  and  con- 
duct of  illustrious  persons;  and  this  gave  birth  to  tra 
gedy.  And  we  are  as  curious  to  know  the  adventures 
conduct,  and  effect*,  of  our  equals;  which  supply  us 
with  occasions  of  laughing,  and  being  merry  at  the 
expense  of  others.  Hence  comedy  derives  itself, 
which  U property  an  image  of  private  life.  It^dtsiirn 
is  to  expose  defects  and  vices  upon  the  stage,  and  by 
aifixing  ridicule  to  them,  to  make  them  contemptible; 
and  consequently,  to  instruct  by  diverting.  Ridicule 
therefore  (or,  to  express  the  same  word  by  another 
pleasantry,)  ought  to  prevail  in  comedy. 

This  species  of  entertainment  took  at  different  time- 
chree  different  forms  at  Athens,  as  well  from  the  ge- 
nious  of  the  potts,  as  from  the  influences  of  the  go- 
vernment, which  occasioned  various  alterations  in  it. 

The  old  comedy,  so  called3  by  Horace,  and  whick 
he  dates  after  the  time  of  JEschylus,  retained  some- 
thing of  its  original  rudeness,  and  the  liberty  it  had 
beer,  used  to  take  of  throwing  out  coarse  jests,  and 
reviling  the  spectators  from  the  cart  of  Thespis 
Though  it  was  become  regular  in  its  plan,  and  worthy 
of  a  great  theatre,  it  had  not  learnt  to  be  more  re- 
served. It  represented  real  transaction?,  with  th< 
names,  dress,  gestures,  and  likeness,  in  masks,  of 
whomsoever  it  thought  fit  to  sacrifice  to  the  public 
dorisicn.  In  a  state  where  it  was  held  good  policy 
to  unmask  whatever  carried  the  air  of  ambition,  sin- 
gularity, or  knavery,  comedy  assumed  the  privilege 
to  harangue,  reform,  and  advise  the  people  upon  their 
most  important  interests.  IVo  one  xvas  spared  in  a 
citv  of  so  much  liberty,  or  rather  licentiousness,  as 
Athens  was  at  that  time.  Generals,  magistrate*,  go- 
vernment, the  very  gods  were  abandoned  to  the  poet's 
satirical  vein;  and  all  was  well  received,  provided  the 
comedy  was  diverting-,  and  the  Attic  salt  not  wanting. 

In  one  of  these  comedies,  not  only  the  priest4  of 
Jupiterdeterminesto  quit  his  service,  because  no  more 
sacrifices  are  offered  to  the  god,  but  Mercury  him- 
self comes,  in  a  starving  condition,  to  seek  his  fortune 
amongst  mankind,  and  offers  to  serve  as  a  porter,  sut- 
ler, bailiff,  guide,  door-keeper;  in  short,  in  any  capa- 
city, rather  than  return  to  heaven.  In  another,5  the 
same  gods,  reduced  to  the  extremity  of  famine,  from 
the.  birds  having  built  a  city  in  the  air,  whereby  their 
provisions  are  cut  off.  and  the  smoke  of  incense  and 
sacrifices  prevented  from  ascendingto  heaven,  depute 
three  embassadors  in  the  name  of  Jupiter  to  conclude 
a  treaty  of  accommodation  with  the  birds,  upon  such 
conditions  as  they  shall  approve.  The  chamber  af 
audience,  where  the  three  famished  gods  are  received, 
is  a  kitchen  well  stored  with  excellent  game  of  all 


t  Successit  vetus  his  comcedia  non  line  multa 

Lande.  HUT.  in  Art.  Pott. 

4  Plutu«.  •  The  BK<!J 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


435 


torts.  Here  Hercules,  deeply  smitten  with  the  smell 
of  ropst  meat,  which  he  apprehends  to  be  more  ex- 
quisite and  nutritious  than  that  of  incense,  begs  leave 
to  make  his  abode,  and  to  turn  the  spit,  and  assist  the 
cook  upon  occasion.  The  other  pieces  of  Aristo- 
phanes abound  with  strokes  still  more  satirical  and 
severe  upon  the  principal  divinities. 

lam  not  much  surprised  at  the  poet's  insulting  the 
gXKJs,  and  treating  them  with  the  utmost  contempt, 
as  from  them  he  had  nothing  to  fear;  but  I  cannot 
help  wondering  at  his  having  brought  the  mojt  illus- 
trious and  powerful  persons  of  Athens  upon  the  »tage, 
and  presuming  to  attack  the  government  itself  with- 
out any  manner  of  respect  or  reserve. 

Cleon  having  returned  triumphant,  contrary  to  the 

General  expectation,  from  the  expedition  against 
phacteria,  was  looked  upon  by  the  people  as  the 
greatest  captain  of  that  age.  Aristophanes,  to  set  that 
bad  ninn  in  a  true  light,  who  was  the  son  of  a  tanner, 
and  a  tanner  himself,  and  whose  rise  was  owing  solely 
to  his  temerity  and  impudence,  was  so  bold  as  to 
liake  him  the  subject  of  a  coined}',1  without  being 
•wed  by  his  power  and  influence:  but  he  was  obliged 
Jo  plat  the  part  of  Cleon  himself,  and  appeared  for 
the  n'r-t  time  upon  the  stage  in  that  character;  not 
one  of  the  comedians  daring  to  represent  it.  nor  to 
expose  himself  to  the  resentment  of  so  formidable  an 
enenu  .  His  face  was  smeared  over  with  wine  lees; 
because  no  workman  could  be  found,  that  would  ven- 
ture to  make  a  nm-k  resembling  Cleon,  as  was  usual 
when  persons  were  brought  upon  the  stage.  In  this 
piece  he  reproached  him  with  embezzling  the  public 
treasures,  with  a  violent  passion  for  bribes  and  pre- 
sent-, with  craft  in  seducing  the  people,  and  denies 
him  the  glnry  of  the  action  at  Sphacteria,  which  lie 
attribute?  r|  iefly  to  the  share  his  colleague  had  in  it. 
In  the  srcluirnians,  he  accuses  Lamarhus  of  having 
been  made  general,  rather  bv  bribery  than  merit.  He 
imputes  to  Iiim  his  youth,  inexperience,  and  idleness; 
at  the  same  time  that  he,  and  many  others,  whom  he 
covertly  designates,  convert  to  their  own  use  the  re- 
wards due  only  to  valour  and  real  services.  He  re- 
proaches the  republic  with  their  preference  of  the 
younger  citizens  to  the  elder,  in  the  government  of 
the  state,  and  the  command  of  their  armies.  He  tells 
them  plainly,  that  when  peace  shall  be  concluded, 
neither  Cleonymus,  Hyperbolas,  nor  many  other  such 
knaves,  all  mentioned  by  name,  shall  have  any  share 
in  the  public  affairs;  they  being  always  ready  to  ac- 
cuse their  fellow-citizens  of  crimes,  and  to  enrich 
themselves  by  such  informations. 

In  his  comedy  called  the  Jt'asps,  imitated  by  Ra- 
cine in  his  Plaideurs,  he  exposes  the  mad  passion  of 
the  people  for  prosecutions  and  trials  at  law,  and  the 
enormous  injustice  frequently  committed  in  passing 
•entence  and  giving  judgment. 

The  poet,*  concerned  to  see  the  republic  obstinately 
bent  upon  the  unhappy  expedition  to  Sicily,  endea- 
vours to  excite  in  the  people  a  thorough  dissrust  for 
so  ruinous  a  war,  and  to  in-pire  them  with  the  desire 
of  a  peace,  as  much  the  interest  of  the  victors  as  the 
vanquished,  after  a  war  of  several  years'  duration, 
equally  pernicious  to  each  party,  and  capable  of  in- 
volving all  Greece  in  ruin. 

None  of  Aristophanes's  pieces  explains  better  his 
boldness,  in  speaking  upon  the  most  delicate  affairs  of 
the  state  in  the  crowded  theatre,  than  his  comedy 
called  Lysistrala.  One  of  the  principal  magistrate? 
of  Athens  had  a  wife  of  that  name,  who  is  supposed 
to  have  taken  it  into  her  head  to  compel  Greece  to 
conclude  a  peace.  She  relates,  how,  during  the  war, 
the  women,  inquiring  of  their  husbands  the  result  of 
their  counsels,  and  whether  they  had  not  resolved  to 
make  peace  with  Sparta,  received  no  answers  butim- 
iierious  looks,  and  orders  to  mind  their  own  business: 
that,  however,  they  perceived  plainly  to  what  a  low- 
condition  the  government  declined:  that  they  took 
the  liberty  to  remonstrate  mildly  to  their  husbands 
upon  the  sad  consequences  of  their  rash  determine 
tiuns,  but  that  their  humble  representations  had  no 
other  effect  than  to  offend  and  enrage  them;  that, at 


>  The  Knightt 


length,  being  confirmed  by  the  geneial  opinion  cf  all 
Attica,  that  there  were  no  longer  any  men  in  the  stale 
nor  heads  for  the  administration  ol  artaus,  their  pa- 
tience being  quite  exhausted,  the  women  had  thought 
it  proper  and  advisable  to  take  the  government  upon 
themselves,  and  preserve  Greece,  whether  it  would  or 
no,  from  the  folly  and  madness  of  its  resolves.  "  For 
her  part,  she  declares,  that  she  has  taken  possession 
of  the  city,  and  treasury,  in  order,"  says  she,  "  to 
prevent  Pisander  and  his  confederates,  the  four  hun- 
dred administrators,  from  exciting  troubles,  accord* 
ing  to  their  custom,  and  from  robbing  the  public 
as  usual."  (Was  ever  any  thing  so  bold?)  She  god 
on  to  prove,  that  the  women  only  are  capable  of  re- 
trieving affairs,  bv  this  burlesque  argument ;  that  ad- 
mitting things  to  be  in  such  a  state  of  perplexity  and 
confusion,  the  sex,  accustomed  to  untangling  their 
threads,  were  the  only  persons  to  set  them  right 
again,  as  being  best  qualified  with  the  necessary  ad- 
dress, patience,  and  moderation.  The  Athenian  po- 
litics are  thus  made  inferior  to  those  of  the  women, 
who  are  only  represented  in  a  ridiculous  light,  to  turn 
the  derision  upon  their  husbands,  who  were  engaged 
in  the  administration  of  the  government. 

These  extracts  from  Aristophanes,  taken  almost 
word  for  word  from  Father  Brumoi,  seemed  to  me 
very  proper  to  give  an  insight  into  that  poet's  cha- 
racter, and  the  genius  of  the  ancient  comedy,  which 
was  as  we  see,  a  satire  of  the  most  poignant  and  sever* 
kind,  that  had  assumed  to  itself  an  imt»  pendency  from 
respect  to  persons,  and  to  which  nothing  WHS  sacred. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  Cicero  condemns  so  licentiout 
and  uncurbed  a  liberty.3  It  might,  he  says,  have 
been  tolerable,  had  it  attacked  only  bad  citizens,  and 
seditious  orators,  who  endeavoured  to  raise  commo- 
tions in  the  state,  such  as  ('Icon,  Cleophon,  and  Hy- 
perbolus:  but  when  a  Pericles,  who  for  many  year* 
hud  governed  the  commonwealth  both  in  war  and 
peace  with  equal  wisdom  and  authority  (he  might 
have  added,  and  a  Socrates,  declared  by  Apollo  the 
wisest  of  mankind)  is  brought  upon  the  stage  to  be 
laughed  at  by  the  public,  it  is  as  if  our  i'lautus  or 
Nwvius  had  attacked  the  Scipios,  or  Caecilius  had 
dared  to  revile  Marcus  Cato  in  his  plays. 

That  liberty  is  still  more  offensive  "to  us.  who  are 
born  and  live  under  a  monarchical  government,  which 
is  far  from  being  favourable  to  licentiousness.  But 
without  intending  to  justify  the  conduct  of  Aristopha- 
nes, which  is  ceitainly  inexcusable,  1  think,  to  judge 
properly  of  it,  would  he  necessary  to  lay  aside  the 
prejudices  of  birth,  nations,  and  times,  and  to  imagine 
we'live  in  those  remote  ages,  in  a  state  purely  demo- 
cratical.  \Ve  must  not  fancy  Aristophanes  to  have 
been  a  person  of  little  consequence  in  his  republic,  as 
the  comic  writers  generally  are  in  our  days.  The 
king  of  Persia  had  a  very  different  idea  of  him.  It  is 
a  known  *tory,4  that  in  audit  nee  of  the  Greek  ambas- 
sadors, his  first  inquiry  was  after  a  certain  comic,  po- 
et (meaning  Arirtophanes.)  that  put  all  Greece  in  mo- 
lion,  and  gave  such  effectual  counsels  against  him. 
Aristophanes  did  that  upon  the  stage,  which  Demos- 
thenes did  afterward  in  the  public  assemblies.  The 
poet's  reproaches  were*  no  less  animated  than  the  ora- 
tor's. In  his  comedies  he  uttered  the  same  sentiments 
a?  he  had  a  right  to  deliver  from  the  public  rostrum. 
They  were  addressed  to  the  same  people,  upon  the 
same  occasions  of  the  state,  the  same  means  of  success, 
and  the  same  obstacles  to  their  measures.  In  Athens, 
the  whole,  people  were  the  sovereign,  nnd  each  of 
them  had  an  equal  share  in  the  supreme  authority. 
Upon  this  they  were  continually  intent,  were  fond  of 
discoursing  ti|>on  it  themselves,  and  of  hearing  the 
sentiments  of  others.  The  public  affairs  were  the  bu- 
siness of  every  individual;  on  which  they  were  desi- 


*  Quern  ilia  non  attigit.  vel  pntiiis  quern  non  vrxaiill 
E«to.  popular?*  homines.  imprnbo.-<,  in  remp  wHitio*u»  Cle 
onem.  Cleophonlem,  Hv|>erboluin  IsS'it  :  paiininur— »4 
Perirlem.  cum  jam  «uir  rivitati  maxima  aurtnritaie  plun- 
mos  nnno.  dorni  ct  Ix'tli  pra-fuifset,  violari  vemliuc.  rt  fo» 
•ffi  in  »cena  non  pifis  Heruit.  quAm  si  Piautun  nostrr  »ol«- 
innet,  nut  Xirviun.  P.  et  Cn.  Soipioni.  aut  OtS<:iliu»M  t  a '« 
ni  malrdirere.  F.i.fragjn.  Cic.  de  Rtp.  lib.  ir 

«  Aristoph.  in  Acharu. 


436 


HISTORY  OF   THfc 


rous  of  being  fully  informed,  that  they  might  know 
how  to  conduct  themselves  on  every  occasion  of  war 
or  peace,  which  frequently  offered,  and  to  decide  upon 
their  own,  as  well  as  upon  the  destiny  of  their  allies 
or  enemies.  Hence  rose  the  liberty  taken  by  the 
comic  poets,  of  discussing'  afiairs  of  the  state  in  thtir 
performances.  The  people  were  so  far  from  being 
offended  at  it,  or  at  the  manner  in  which  those  writers 
treated  the  principal  persons  of  the  state,  that  they 
conceived  their  liberty  in  some  measure  toconsist  in  it. 

Three  potts,1  particularly  excelled  in  the  old  come- 
dy; Eupolis,  Cratinus,  and  Aristophanes,  the  last  is 
the  only  one  of  them  whose  pieces  have  come  down 
ti  us  entire;  and  out  of  the  great  number  which  he 
composed,  eleven  are  all  that  remain.  He  flourished 
in  aii  age  when  Greece  abounded  with  great  men, 
and  was  contemporary  with  Socrates  and  Euripides, 
whom  he  survived.  During  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
he  made  his  greatest  figure;  less  as  a  writer  to  amuse 
the  people  with  his  comedies,  than  as  censor  of  the 
government  retained  to  reform  the  state,  and  to  be 
almost  the  arbiter  of  his  country. 

He  is  admired  for  an  elegance,  poignancy,  and  hap- 
piness of  expression,  or,  in  a  word,  that  Attic  salt  and 
spirit,  to  which  the  Roman  language  could  never  at- 
tain, and  for*  which  Aristophanes  is  more  remarkable 
than  any  other  of  the  Greek  authors.  His  particular 
excellence  was  raillery.  None  ever  touched  what 
was  ridiculous  in  the  characters  whom  he  wished  to 
expose  with  such  success,  or  knew  better  how  to  con- 
vey it  in  all  its  full  force  to  others.  But  it  would  be 
necessary  to  have  lived  in  his  times,  to  be  qualified  to 
judge  of  this.  The  subtle  salt  and  spirit  of  the  an- 
cient raillery,  according  to  Father  Brumoi,  is  evapo- 
rated through  length  of  time,  and  what  remains  of  it 
is  become  Hat  and  insipid  to  us;  though  the  sharpest 
part  will  retain  its  vigour  throughout  all  ages. 
»  Two  considerable  defects  are  justly  imputed  to  this 
poet,  which  very  much  obscure,  if  not  entirely  efface, 
his  glory.  These  are,  low  buffoonery,  and  gross  ob- 
scenity; and  it  has  in  vain  been  attempted  to  offer,  in 
excuse  for  the  first  of  these  faults,  the  character  of 
his  audience;  the  bulk  of  which  generally  consisted 
of  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  and  dregs  of  the  people, 
whom,  however,  it  was  as  necessary  to  please,  as  the 
learned  and  the  rich.  The  depraved  taste  of  the  lower 
order  of  people,  which  once  banished  Cratinus  and 
his  company,  because  his  scenes  were  not  grossly  co- 
mic enough  for  them,  is  no  excuse  for  Aristophanes, 
as  Menander  could  find  out  the  art  of  changing  that 
grovelling  taste,  by  introducing  a  species  of  comedy, 
not  altogether  so  modest  as  Plutarch  seems  to  insinu 
ate,  yet  much  less  licentious  than  any  before  his  time. 

The  gross  obscenities  with  which  all  Aristophanes's 
comedies  abound,  have  no  excuse;  they  only  denote 
to  what  a  pitch  the  libertinism  of  the  spectators,  and 
the  depravity  of  the  poet  had  proceeded.  Had  he 
even  impregnated  them  with  the  utmost  wit,  which 
however  is  not  the  case,  the  privilege  of  laughing  him- 
self, or  of  making  others  laugh,  would  have  been  too 
dearly  purchased  at  the  expense  of  decency  and  good 
—inners.3  And  in  this  case  it^may  well  be  said,  that 
,vere  better  to  have  no  wit  at  all,  than  to  make  »o 


ma 
it  w 


i  Eupolin,  atque  Cratino*.  Aristophaneaqne  poets, 

At<]uealii,  quorum  comretlia  prisca  virorum  est, 

Si  ques  crat  <liunus  describi,  quod  mains,  aut  fur, 

Quod  mcechus  foret.aut  sicarius,  aut  nlioqui 

Famosus;  multa  cum  libertate  noiabant. 

HOT.  Sat.  iv.  1.  i. 
t  With  Aristophanes'  satiric  rnge, 

When  ancient  comedy  amused  the  age, 

Or  Eupoli*'«  or  Cratinus'  wit, 

Am!  others  that  all-licensed  poem  writ; 

None,  worthy  to  be  shown,  escaped  the  scene, 

No  public  knave,  or  thief  of  luFtv  mien  ; 

The  loose  adult'rer  was  drawn  forth  to  sight  ; 

The  secret  murd'rer  trembling  lurk'd  the  night  ; 

Vice  play'il  itself,  and  each  ambitious  spark  ; 

All  boldly  branded  with  the  poet's  mark. 

Antiqim  como?dia  sinceram  illam  lermonis  Attici  gritiam 
prope  «ola  rctinet.— Quintil. 

*  Nimium  risus  pretium  e§t,  «i  prohitatii  impendio  con- 
•Ut.— Quintil.  lib.  vi.  c.  3. 


ill  use  of  it.*  F.  Brumoi  is  very  much  to  be  com 
mended  for  having  taken  care,  in  giving  a  genera 
idea  of  Aristophanes's  writings,  to  throw  a  veil  over 
those  parts  of  them  that  might  have  given  offence  to 
modesty.  Though  such  behaviour  be  the  indispensa- 
ble rule  of  religion,  it  is  not  always  observed  by  those 
who  pique  themselves  most  on  their  erudition,  and 
sometimes  prefer  the  title  of  Scholar  to  that  of  Chris 
tian. 

The  old  comedy  subsisted  till  Lysander's  time,  who 
upon  having  made  himself  master  of  Athens,  changed 
the  form  of  the  government,  and  put  it  into  the  hands 
of  thirty  of  the  principal  citizens.  The  satirical  li- 
berty oi  the  theatre  was  offensive  to  them,  and  there- 
fore they  thought  fit  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  The  reason 
of  this  alteration  is  evident,  and  confirms  the  reflec- 
tion made  before  upon  the  privilege  which  the  poet* 
possessed  of  criticising  with  impunity  the  persons  at 
the  head  of  the  state.  The  whole  authority  of  Athens 
was  then  invested  in  tyrants.  The  democracy  was 
abolished.  The  people  had  no  longer  any  share  in 
the  government.  They  were  no  more  the  prince; 
their  sovereignty  had  expired.  The  right  of  giving 
their  opinions  and  suffrages  upon  affairs  of  state  was 
at  an  end;  nor  dared  they,  either  in  their  own  per- 
sons or  by  the  poets,  presume  to  censure  the  senti- 
ments and  conduct  of  their  masters.  The  calling 
persons  by  their  names  upon  the  stage  was  prohibited ; 
but  poetical  ill-nature  soon  found  the  secret  of  elu- 
ding the  intention  of  the  law,  and  of  making  itself 
amends  for  the  restraint  which  was  imposed  upon  it 
by  the  necessity  of  using  feigned  names.  It  then  ap- 
plied itself  to  discover  what  was  ridiculous  in  known 
characters,  which  it  copied  to  the  life,  and  from 
thence  acquired  the  double  advantage  of  gratifying 
the  vanity  of  the  poets,  and  the  malice  of  the  audi 
ence.m  a  more  refined  manner:  the  one  had  the  de- 
licate pleasure  of  putting  the  spectators  upon  guess 
ing  their  meaning,  and  Ihe  other  of  not  being  mis- 
taken in  their  suppositions,  and  of  affixing  the  right 
name  to  the  characters  represented.  Such  WHS  the 
comedy,  since  called  the  J\Iiddle  Comedy,  of  which 
there  are  some  instances  in  Aristophanes. 

It  continued  till  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
who  having  entirely  assured  himself  of  the  empire  of 
Greece  by  the  defeat  of  the  Thebans,  caused  a  check 
to  be  put  upon  the  licentiousness  of  the  poets,  which 
increased  daily.  From  thence  the  JVeic  Comedy  took 
its  birth,  whic-h  was  only  an  imitation  of  private  life 
and  brought  nothing  upon  the  stage  but  feigned 
names,  and  fictitious  adventures. 

Chccnn  peint  avec  art  dans  ce  nonveau  miroir, 
S'y  vit  aver:  plaisir,  oil  crut  ne  s'y  pas  voir. 
L'avarc  des  premiers  rit  du  tableau  fidele 
D'un  avare  souvent  trace  sur  son  mixlele; 
Et  mille  fois  un  fat.  finement  exprime, 
Meconnut  le  portrait  sur  lui-mGmeforme. 

Boileau,  Art.  Poet,  chant,  iii. 

In  this  new  glass,  whilst  each  himself  survey'd, 
He  sat  with  pleasure,  though  himself  was  piay  d; 
The  miser  grinn'd  whilst  avarice  was  drawn. 
Nor  thought  the  faithful  likeness  was  his  own; 
His  own  dear  self  no  imaged  fool  could  find, 
But  saw  a  thousand  other  fops  design'd. 

This  may  properly  be  called  fine  comedy,  and  it 
that  of  Menander.  Of  one  hundred  and  eighty,  oi 
rather  eighty  plays,  according  to  Suidas,  composed 
by  him,  all  of  which  Terence  is  said  to  have  translated 
there  remain  only  a  few  fragments.  We  may  form  a 
just  judgment  ot*  the  merit  of  the  originals  from  the 
excellence  of  the  copy.  Quintilian,  in  speaking  of 
Menander,  is  not  afraid  to  say,5  that  with  the  beautj 
of  his  works,  and  the  height  of  his  reputation,  he  ob- 
scured, or  rather  obliterated,  the  fame  of  all  other 
writers  in  the  same  way.  He  observes,  in  another 
passage,  that  his  own  times  were  not  so  just6  to  his 


*  Non  pejus  duxerim  tardi  ingeniiesse,  quam  mali.  Quirt- 
til.  lib.,i  c.  :<. 

>  Atqne  tile  quiiiem  omnibus  ejusdem  opens  auntoribui 
abstulit  nomen,  et  fuljore  quodam  suae  claritatis  tenebra* 
"bduxit.  Quintil  \\h^x.  c.  1. 

•  Quidam,  sicut  Menander,  justiora   poxterornm.   qnam 
Bua>  a'atis,  jodic.ia  sunt  conaeeuli      Q.uinlil.  ib.  iK.  c.  6 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


437 


went  as  they  ought  to  have  been,  which  has  been  the  ]  copper,  which  were  disposed  under  the  seats  of  th« 
fate  ol"  many  others;  but  that  he  was  sufficiently  made     theatre,  in  such  a  manner,  as  made  all  sounds  strike 


amen-U  by  "the  favourable  opinion  of  posterity.  And 
indeed  Philemon,  a  comic  poet,  who  flourished  about 
the  same  period,  though  older  thau  Menander,  was 
preferred  before  him 

7Vie  Theatre  of  the  Ancients  described. 

I  have  already  observed,  that  jEschylus  was  the  first 
founder  ot' a  fixed  and  durable  theatre,  adorned  with 
suitable  decorations.  It  was  at  first,  as  well  as  the 
amphitheatres,  composed  of  wooden  plunk*,  the  seats 
in  which  rose  one  above  another;  but  those  having 
one  day  broke  down,  by  having  too  great  a  weight 
upon  them,  the  Athenians,  excessively  enamoured  of 
dramatic  representations,  were  induced  by  that  acci- 
dent to  erect  those  superb  structures,  which  were  imi- 
tated afterwards  with  so  much  splendour  by  the  Ro- 
man magnificence.  What  I  shall  say  of  them  has 
almost  as  much  relation  to  the  Roman  as  the  Athenian 
theatre*:  and  is  extracted  entirely  from  M.  t'ciiuiin's 
learned  dissertation  upon  the  theatre  of  the  ancients,' 
who  has  treated  the  subject  in  its  fullest  extent. 

The  theatre  of  the  ancients  was  divided  into  three 
principal  parts:  each  of  which  had  its  peculiar  appel- 
lation. The  division  for  the  actors  was  called  in  ge- 
neral the  scene,  or  stage;  that  for  the  spectators  was 
p;»rticu4arly  termed  the  theatre,  which  must  have  been 
of  vrt-t  extent,2  as  at  Athens  it  was  capable  of  con- 
taining above  thirty  thousand  persons;  and  the  or- 
chestra, which  amonsrit  the  Greeks  was  the  place  as- 
signed lor  the  pantomimes  and  dancers,  though  at 
Rome  it  was  appropriated  to  the  senators  and  vestal 
VMVHM. 

The  theatre  was  of  a  semicircular  form  on  one  side, 
and  square  on  the  other.  The  space  contained  within 
the  semicircle,  was  allotted  to  the  spectators,  and  had 
seats  placed  one  above  another  to  the  top  of  the  build- 
ing. Tin-  square  part  in  the  front  of  it.  was  appro- 
priated to  the  actors;  and  in  the  interval,  between 
both,  was  the  orchestra. 

The  great  theatres  had  three  rows  of  porticoes, 
raised  one  above  another,  which  formed  the  body  of 
the  edifice,  and  at  the  same  time  three  different  sto- 
rie*  f  >r  the  seats.  From  the  highest  of  those  porti- 
coes the  women  saw  the  representation,  sheltered 
from  the  weather.  The  rest  of  the.  theatre  was  un- 
covered, und  all  the  business  of  the  stage  was  per- 
formed in  the  open  air. 

F.arh  of  these  stories  consisted  of  nine  rows  of 
seat-,  including  the  landing-place,  which  divided  them 
from  each  other,  and  served  as  a  passage  from  side  to 
side.  But  as  thi«  landing-place  and  passage  took  up 
the  space  of  two  benches,  there  were  only  seven  to  sit 
upon,  and  consequently  in  each  story  there  were 
seven  rows  of  seats.  They  were  from  fifteen  to  eigh- 
teen inches  in  height,  and"  twice  as  much  in  breadth; 
•o  that  the  spectators  had  room  to  sit  at  their  ease, 
and  without  being  incommoded  by  the  legs  of  the  peo- 
ple above  them,  no  foot-boards  being  provided  for 
them. 

Each  of  these  stones  of  benches  were  divided  in 
two  different  manners;  in  their  height  hy  the  land- 
ing-places, called  by  the  Romans  Praecinctionet,  and 
in  their  circumferences  by  several  stair-case?,  pecu- 


upon  the  ear  with  more  force  and  distinctness. 

The  orchestra  being  situated,  as  I  have  observed, 
between  the  two  other  parts  of  the  theatre,  of  which 
one  was  circular  and  the  other  square,  it  particijyated 
ot  the  form  of  each,  and  occupied  the  space  betweee 
both.  It  was  divided  into  three  parts. 

The  first  and  most  considerable  was  more  particu- 
larly called  the  orchestra,  from  a  Greek  won!.3  that 
signifies  to  dance.  It  was  appropriated  to  the  panto- 
mimes and  dancers,  and  to  all  such  subaltern  actors 
as  played  between  the  acts,  and  at  the  end  of  the  re- 
presentations. 

The  second  was  named  6vp»M  from  its  being  square, 
in  the  form  of  an  altar.  Here  the  chorus  was  gene- 
rally placed. 

And  in  the  third,  the  Greeks  disposed  their  band  of 
music.  They  called  \ti*-.f,,.tt-.,.  frum  its  being  situ- 
ate at  the  bottom  of  the  principal  part  of  the  theatre, 
to  which  they  gave  the  general  name  of  the  scene. 

I  shall  describe  here  this  third  part  of  the  theatre, 
called  the  scene;  which  was  also  subdivided  into 
three  different  parts. 

The  first  and  most  considerable  was  properly  called 
the  scene,  and  gave  its  name  to  this  whole  division. 

It  occupied  the  whole  front  of  the  building  from 
side  to  side,  and  was  the  place  allotted  for  the  deco- 
rations. This  front  had  two  small  wings  at  its  ex- 
tremity, from  which  hnng  a  large  curtain,  that  was 
let  down  to  open  the  scene,  and  drawn  up  between 
the  acts,  when  any  thing  in  the  representation  made 
it  necessary. 

The  second  called  bj  the  Greeks  indifferently 
*po«-i«»io».  and  x.:yii:r,  and  by  the  Romans  Prosceni- 
um, and  Pulpitum,  was  a  large  open  space  in  front  of 
the  scene,  in  which  the  actors  performed  their  parts, 
and  which,  by  the  help  of  the  decorations,  represent- 
ed either  a  public  square  or  forum,  a  common  street, 
or  the  country;  but  the  place  so  represented  was  al- 
ways in  the  open  air. 

The  third  division  was  a  part  reserved  behind  the 
scenes,  and  called  by  the  Greeks  w*f*r*r*>v*.  Here 
the  actors  dressed  themselves,  and  the  decorations 
were  locked  up.  In  the  same  place  were  also  kept 
t!'e  machines,  of  which  the  ancients  had  abundance 
in  their  theatres. 

As  only  the  porticoes  and  the  building  of  the  scene 
were  roofed,  it  was  necessary  to  draw  sails,  fastened 
with  cords  to  masts,  over  the  rest  of  the  theatre,  to 
screen  the  audience  from  the  heat  of  the  sun.  But  as 
this  contrivance  did  not  prevent  the  heat,  occasioned 
by  the  perspiration  and  breath  of  so  numerous  an  as- 
sembly, the  ancients  took  care  to  allay  it  by  a  kind  of 
rain;  "conveying  the  water  for  that  use  above  the  por- 
ticoe«,  which  falling  again  in  form  of  dew  through  aa 
infinity  of  small  pores  concealed  in  the  statues,  with 
which"  the  theatre  abounded.  Hid  not  only  d it) use  a 
grateful  coolness  all  around,  but  the  most  fragrant 
exhalations  along  with  it;  for  this  dew  was  always 
perfumed.  Whenever  the  representations  were  in- 
terrupted by  storm«.  the  spectators  retired  into  th« 
porticoes  behind  the  seats  of  the  theatre. 

The  fondness  of  the  Athenians  for  representations 
of  this  kind  cannot  be  expressed.  Their  eyes,  their 


liar  to  each  story,  which   intersecting  them   in  right  |  rarSi  their  imagination,  their  understanding  all  shared 


lines,  ten-iing  tnrwards  the  centre  of  the  theatre,  gave 
tUe  form  Dt"  wedges  to  the  quantity  of  seats  between 
them,  from  whence  they  were  called  Ciinet. 

Behind  these  stories  of  »eats  were  covered  galleries, 
through  which  the  people  thronged  into  the  theatre 
by  great  square  openings,  contrived  for  that  purpose 
iii  the  walls  next  the  seats.  Those  openin, 
called  I'omitoria,  from  the  multitude  of  people 
crowding  through  them  into  their  places. 

As  the  actors  could  not  be  heard  to  tht  extremity 
of  the  theatre,  the  Greek*  contrived  n  means  to  sup- 
ply that  defect,  and  to  augment  the  force  of  the 
»oice,  t-nd  make  it  more  distinct  and  articulate.  For 
that  purpos"  they  invented  a  kind  of  large  vessels  of 


Memoirs  of  the  Acnd.  of  Itiscripl.  tc.  vol.  i.  p.  136,  dtc. 
•  tkrao.  1.  a.  p  395.     Herod.  1.  viu.  c.  65. 


in  the  satisfaction.  Nothing  gave  them  so  sensible  a 
;p|ea=nre  in  dramatic  jwrformances.  either  tragic  or 
romic,  as  the  strokes  which  were  aimed  at  the  affairs 
of  the  public;  whether  pure  chance  occasioned  the 
application,  or  the  address  of  the  poets,  who  knew 
how  to  reconcile  the  most  remote  subjects  with  the 
l.-ansactions  of  the  republic.  They  entered  by  that 
iiiean*  into  the  interests  of  the  people,  took  occasion 
to  sooth  the'r  passion,  authorise  their  pretension*. 
Jr.«tify,  and  sometimes  condemn,  their  conduct,  en- 
tertain them  with  agreeable  hopes,  instruct  them  in 
their  duty  in  certain  nice  conjunctures;  in  conse- 
quence ot' which  they  often  not  only  acquired  theap- 
i'  the  spectators,  but  credit  and  influence  in 
the  public  affairs  and  counsels:  hence  the  theatre  b«- 


»  'Of*. 


2  M  2 


438 


THE  HISTORY  OF 


came  so  grateful,  and  so  interesting  to  the  people. 
It  was  in  this  manner,  according  to  some  authors,  that 
Euripides  artfully  adapted  his  tragedy  of  Palamede*1 
to  the  sentence  passed  against  Socrates;  and  pointed 
out,  by  an  illustrious  example  of  antiquity,  the  inno- 
cence of  a  philosopher,  oppressed  by  malignity,  sup- 
ported bv  power  and  faction. 

Accident  was  often  the  occasion  of  sudden  and  un- 
foreseen applications,  which  from  their  appositeness 
were  very  agreeable  to  the  people.  Upon  this  verse 
of  Jischylus,  in  praise  of  Amphiaraus, 


-'Tis  his  desire. 


Not  to  appear,  but  be  the  great  and  good 

the  whole  audience  rose  up,  and  unanimously  ap- 
plied it  to  Aristides.2  The  same  thing  happened  to 
Philopoemen  at  the  Nemsean  games.  At  the  instant 
he  entered  the  theatre  these  verses  were  singing  upon 
the  stage  ; 

He  comes,  to  whom  we  owe 

Our  liberty,  the  noblest  good  below. 

All  the  Greeks  cast  their  eyes  upon  Philopoemen,3 
and  with  clapping  of  hands,  and  acclamations  of  joy, 
expressed  their  veneration  for  the  hero. 

In4  the  same  manner  at  Rome,  during  the  banish- 
ment of  Cicero,  when  some  verses  of  Accius,5  which 
reproached  the  Greeks  with  their  ingratitude  in  suf- 
fering the  banishment  of  Telamon,  were  repeated  by 
^sop,  the  best  actor  of  his  time,  they  drew  tears  from 
the  eyes  of  the  whole  assembly. 

Upon  another,  though  very  different  occasion,  the 
Roman  people  applied  to  P'ompey  the  Great,  some 
verses  to  this  effect  : 

'Tig  our  unhappineis  has  made  thee  great;* 
and  then  addressing  the  people; 

The  time  shall  come  when  you  shaJl  late  deplore 
So  great  a  power  confided  to  such  hand* ; 

the  spectators  obliged  the  actor  to  repeat  thes*  verses 
several  times. 

Fondness  for  Theatrical  Representations  one  of  the 
principal  Causes  nfthe  Decline,  Degeneracy,  and 
Corruption  of  the  Athenian  State. 

When  we  compare  the  happy  times  of  Greece,  in 
which  Europe  and  Asia  resounded  with  nothing  but 
the  fame  of  the  Athenian  victories,  with  the  Tatter 
ages,  when  the  power  of  Philip  and  Alexander  the 
Great  had  in  a  manner  reduced  it  to  slavery,  we  shall 
be  surprised  at  the  strange  alteration  in  trial  repub- 
lic. But  what  is  most  material,  i<  the  investigation 
of  the  causes  and  progress  of  this  declension  :  and 
these  M.  de  Tourreil  has  discussed  in  an  admirable 
manner  in  the  elegant  preface  to  his  translation  of 
Demosthenes'  Orations. 

There  were  no  longer,  he  observe*,  at  Athens,  any 
traces  of  that  manly  and  vigorous  policy,  equally  ca"- 
pable  of  planning  good  and  retrieving  bad  success. 
Instead  of  that,  there  remained  only  an  inconsistent 
loftiness,  apl  to  evaporate  in  pompous  decrees.  They 
were  no  more  those  Athenians,  who,  when  menaced 
by  a  deluge  of  Barbarians,  demolished  their  houses 
to  build  ships  with  the  timber,  and  whose  women 
stoned  the  abject  wretch  to  death  that  proposed  to 
appease  the  great  king  by  tribute  or  homage.  The 
love  of  ease  and  pleasure  had  almost  entirely  extin- 
guished that  of  glory,  liberty,  and  independence. 

Pericles,  that  great  man,  so  absolute,  that  those  who 
envied  him  treated  him  as  a  second  Pisistratus,  was 
the  first  author  of  this  degeneracy  and  corruption. 
With  the  design  of  conciliating  the  favor  of  the  peo- 
ple, he  ordained  that  upon  such  days  us  games  or 
sacrifices  were  celebrated,  a  certain  number  of  oboli 
shi.uld  be  distributed  amongst  them;  and  that  in  the 

t  It  is  not  certain  whether  thi*  piece  wan  prior  or  poste- 
rior to  the  death  of  Socrates. 

•  Plut.  in  \ri«lid.  p.  320. 

»  Plut.  in  Philo|i<pm    p.  3fi2. 

•  Cic.  in  Oral.  proS-xt.  n.  120.  123 

•  O  injraiifiri  Arjiivi,  iimnes  Graii,  immemores  bcncficii, 
Exilian-  Bivistisi,  nivisiin  |>olli,  piilnum  paiimini. 

•  Cic.  al  Attic.  1.  ii.  Epist.  19.     Val.  Max.  1.  vi.  c.  2. 


assemblies  in  which  affairs  of  state  were  to  be  discuss 
ed,  every  individual  should  receive  a  certain  pecunia 
ry  gratification  in  right  of  being  present.  Thus  th> 
members  of  the  republic  were  seen  for  the  first  time  to 
sell  their  care  in  the  administrtion  of  the  government, 
and  to  rank  amongst  servile  employments  the  moit 
noble  functions  of  the  sovereign  power. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  foresee  where  so  excessive  an 
abuse  would  end:  and  to  remedy  it,  it  was  proposed 
to  establish  a  fund  for  the  support  of  the  war,  and  to 
make  it  a  capital  crime  to  advise,  upon  any  account 
whatsoever,  the  application  of  it  to  other  uses;  but, 
notwithstanding,  the  abuse  always  subsisted.  At  first 
it  seemed  tolerable,  whilst  the  citizen,  who  was  sup 
ported  at  the  public  expense,  endeavoured  to  desenrt) 
it  by  doing  his  duty  in  the  field  for  nine  months  to 
getner.  Every  one  was  to  serve  in  his  turn,  and 
whoever  failed  was  treated  as  a  deserter  without  dis- 
tinction: but  at  length  the  number  of  the  transgress- 
ors carried  it  against  the  law ;  and  impunity,  as  it  com- 
monly happens,  multiplied  their  number.  People  ac- 
customed to  the  delightful  abode  of  a  city,  where 
feasts  and  games  were  perpetually  taking  place,  con- 
ceived an  invincible  repugnance  for  labour  and  fa- 
tigue, which  they  looked  ujxjn  as  unworthy  of  free- 
born  men. 

It  was  therefore  necessary  to  find  amusement  for 
this  indolent  people,  to  fill  up  the  great  void  of  an 
inactive,  useless  life.  Hence  arose  principally  their 
fondness,  or  rather  frenzy,  for  public  show.  The 
death  of  Epaminondas,  which  seemed  to  promise  them 
the  greatest  advantage,  gave  the  final  stroke  to  their 
ruin  and  destruction.  "  Their  courage,"  says  Justin,' 
"  did  not  survive  that  illustrious  T heban.  Freed 
from  a  rival,  who  kept  their  emulation  alive,  they 
sunk  into  a  lethargic  sloth  and  effeminacy.  The  funds 
for  armaments  by  land  and  sea  were  soon  lavished 
upon  games  and  feasts.  The  seaman's  and  soldier's 
pay  was  distributed  to  the  idle  citizen.  An  indolent 
and  luxurious  mode  of  life  enervated  every  breast. 
The  representations  of  the  theatre  were  preferred  to 
the  exercises  of  the  camp.  Valour  and  military 
knowledge  were  entirely  disregarded.  Great  cap- 
tains were  in  no  estimation ;  whilst  good  poets  and  ex- 
cellent comedians  engrossed  the  universal  applause." 

Extravagance  of  this  kind  makes  it  easy  to  compre- 
hend in  what  multitudes  the  people  thronged  to  the 
dramatic  performances.  As  no  expense  was  spared 
in  embellishing  them,  exorbitant  sums  were  sunk  in 
the  service  of  the  theatre.  "  If,"  says  Plutarch,8  "  an 
accurate  calculation  were  to  be  made,  what  each  re- 
presentation of  the  dramatic  pieces  cost  the  Athenians, 
it  would  appear,  that  their  expenses  in  playing  the 
Bacchanalians,  the  Phoenecians,  CEdipus,  Antigone, 
Medea,  and  F.lertra  (Tragedies  written  either  bv  So- 
phocles or  Euripides,)  were  greater  than  those  which 
had  been  employed  against  the  Barbarians  in  defence 
of  the  liberty,  and  for  the  preservation  of  Greece. 
This  gave  a  Spartan  just  reason  to  exclaim,  on  seeing 
an  estimate  of  the  enormous  sums  laid  out  in  these 
contests  of  the  tragic  poets,and  the  extraordinary  pains 
taken  by  the  magistrates  who  presided  in  ther.i,9" "  that 
a  people  must  be  void  of  sense  to  apply  the  arrives  in 
so  warm  and  serious  a  manner  to  thing*  so  frivolous. 
For,"  added  he,  "  games  should  only  be  games;  and 
nothing  is  more  unreasonable  than  to  purchase  a  short 
and  trivial  amusement  at  so  great  a  price.  Pleasures 
of  this  kind  agree  only  with  public  rejoicings  and  sea- 
sons of  festivity,  and  were  designed  to  divert  people 
at  their  leisure  hours;  but  should  by  no  meant  inter- 
fere with  the  affairs  of  the  public,  nor  the  necessary 
expenses  of  the  government." 

After  all,  says  Plutarch,  in  the  passage  which  I  have 
already  cited,  of  «vhat  utility  have  these  tragedies  been 
to  Athens,  though  so  much  boasted  bv  the  people,  and 
admired  by  the  rest  of  the  world  ?  I  find  that  the  pru- 
dence of  Themi'tocles  enclosed  the  city  with  strong 
walls;  that  the  fine  taste  and  magnificence  of  Perirle 
improved  and  adorned  it:  that  the  noble  fortitude  of 
Miltiadt  s  preserved  its  liberty;  and  thht  the  moderate 


'  Ju'tin.  I.  vi.  c.  !>. 

•  Pint.  I!P  glnr    Athcn.  p.  340. 

•  Plut.  Sympon.  1.  vii.  quest,  vii.  j>.  TIP 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


439 


conduct  of  Cimon  acquired  il  the  empire  and  govern- 
ment of  all  Greece.  If  the  wise  and  learned  poetry 
of  Kuripides,  the  jublime  diction  of  Sophocles,  the 
lofty  buskin  ol  /Eschvlus,  have  obtained  equal  advan- 
tages for  the  city  of  Athens,  by  delivering  it  from  im- 
pending calamities,  or  by  adding  to  its  glory,  I  am 
willing  (he  goes  on)  that  dramatic  pieces  should  be 
placed  in  competition  with  trophies  of  victory,  the 
poetic  theatre  with  the  field  of  battle,  and  the  com- 
positions of  the  poets  with  the  great  exploits  of  the 
generals.  But  what  a  comparison  would  this  be? 
On  the  one  side  would  be  seen  a  few  writers,  crown- 
ed with  wreaths  of  ivy,  and  dragging  a  goat  or  an  ox 
after  them,  the  rewards  and  victims  assigned  them  for 
excelling  in  tragic  poetry:  on  the  other  a  train  of  il- 
lustrious captain*,  surrounded  by  the  colonies  which 
they  founded,  the  cities  which  they  captured,  and  the 
nations  which  they  subjected.  It  is  not  to  perpetu- 
ate the  victories  of  yEschylus  and  Sophocles,  but  in 
remembrance  of  the  glorious  battles  of  Marathon,  Sa- 
lamis,  F.urvmedon,  and  many  others,  that  so  many 
feasts  are  celebrated  every  month  with  such  pomp  by 
tlte  Grecian*. 

The  inference  which  Plutarch  draws  from  hence,  in 


which  we  ought  to  agree  with  him,  is,  that  it  was  the 
highest  imprudence  in  the  Athenians1  thus  to  prefer 
pleasure  to  duty,  fondness  for  the  theatre  to  the  lore 
of  theircountry,  trivial  shows  to  application  to  public 
business,  and  to  consume  in  useless  expenses  and  dra- 
matic entertainments,  the  funds  intended  for  the  sup- 
port of  fleets  and  armies.  Macedon,  till  then  obscure 
and  inconsiderable,  well  knew  how  to  take  advantage 
of  the  Athenian*  indolence  and  effeminacy;  and  Phi- 
lip, instructed  by  the  Greeks  themselves,  amongst 
whom  he  had  for  several  years  applied  himself  suc- 
cessfully to  the  art  of  war,  was  not  long  before  he 
gave  Greece  a  master,  and  subjected  it  to  the  ycke, 
as  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel. 


lie 


•  Quibug  rebus  effectual  put,  ut  inter  otia  Graccorum, 
•ordidum  et  obscurum  antea  Macedonum  nomen  emergeret  ; 
et  Philippue,  obses  triennio  Thebis  habitus.  Epaminondae  et 
1'elopidB  virtutihu*  eruditus,  rcgnum  Macedonia;,  Grecia 
et  Af>ue  cervicibui,  velut  jugum  aurvituti»,  impoueret.  Jtat, 
I.  vi.  c.  9 


THE   HISTORY 

Of 

DiONYSIUS  THE  ELDER  AND  YOUNGER, 

TYRANTS  OF  SYRACUSE. 


BOOK  XI. 


SIXTY  v»ars  had  elapsed  since  Syracuse  had  re- 
gained its  liberty  by  the  expulsion  of  the  family  of 
Gelon.  The  events  which  passed  during  that  inter- 
val in  Sicily,  except  the  invasion  of  the  Athenians, 
are  of  no  °:re"at  importance,  and  little  known :  but  those 
which  follow  are  highly  interesting,  and  make  amends 
for  the  chasm:  I  mean  the  reigns  of  Dionysius  the  fa- 
ther and  son,  tyrants  of  Syracuse;  the  first  of  whom 
governed  thirty  eight  years,  and  the  other  twelve,1 
IQ  all  fifty  years. 

This  history  will  present  to  our  view  a  series  of  the 
most  odious  and  horrid  crimes,  though  it  abounds  at 
the  same  time  with  instruction.  When  on  the  one 
•ide  we  behold  a  prince,*  the  declared  enemy  of  li- 
berty, justice  and  laws,  treading  under  his_  feet  the 
most  sacred  rights  of  nature  and  religion,  inflicting  the 
most  cruel  torments  upon  his  subjects,  beheading 
•ome,  burning  others  fora  flight  word,  delighting  and 
fta-unic  himself  with  human  blood,  and  gratifying  his 
inhuman  criulir  with  the  sufferings  and  miseries  of 

i  After  having  been  expelled  for  more  than  ten  ycari,  he 
re-ascended  ihe  thrnne,  nnd  rfii:n<-d  two  or  three  year*. 

•  Ertt  Oionytius  illic  tyranny*,  liberlatis,  justitiaa,  lejum 
•  xhium —  Alio»  uret,  alios  verberabit,  alios  oh  levem  oflen- 
turn  jubebit  detruncari. — Sejiee.  de  Consol  ad  Mart .  r.  xvii 

S^r.jruinp  humnnu  non  tantum  jraudet,  »ed  jiaiwitur;  oed 
«t  si-ppliciis  omnium  tpta'um  crudt  litutem  insuliabilem  ex- 
okt.— Id.  de  Benrf.  I  vii.  :.  19. 


every  a?e  and  condition.  I  say  when  we  behold  such 
an  object,  can  we  deny  a- truth,  which  the  Pa^an  world 
itsell  hath  confessed,  and  which  Plutarch  takes  occa- 
sion to  observe  in  speaking  of  the  tvrants  of  Sicily: 
That  God  in  his  anger  gives  such  princes  to  a  people, 
and  makes  u«e  of  the  impious  and  the  wicked  to  pu- 
nish the  guilty  and  the  criminal.  On  the  other  side, 
when  the  same  prince,  the  dread  and  terror  of  Syra- 
cuse, is  perpetually  anxious  and  trembling  for  his  own 
life,  and  abandoned  by  day  and  night  to  remorse  ana 
regret,  can  find  no  person  in  his  whole  state,  not  evei» 
his  wives  and  children,  in  whom  he  can  confide;  wh» 
will  not  exclaim  with  Tacitus,8  ••  That  it  is  not  with- 
out reason  the  oracle  of  wisdom  has  declared,  that  if 
the  hearts  of  tyrants  could  be  teen,  we  should  find 
them  torn  in  pieces  with  a  thousand  evils:  it  bein£  cer- 
tain that  the  body  does  not  suffer  more  from  stripei 
And  torments,  than  the  minds  of  such  wn-tcht •  from 
their  crimes,  cruelties,  and  the  injustice  and  violence 
of  their  proceedings." 

The  condition  of  a  good  prince  is  quite  different. 
Fie  loves  his  people,  and  is  beloved  by  them;  he  en- 
joys a  perfect  truiquillitv  within  himself,  and  livei 


»  Neque  frustra  pr§8-tanti*simu>  gapicntiff  firmare  (olitM 
est.  BJ  recludantur  lyrannurum  mentCB.  po»c  a«pioi  lania 
tus  PI  ictus  ;  quando.  ut  corpora  verberibo*.  ita  wevitia.  li 
bidine,  malts  consult!!,  animu*  dilaceraretor.  Ttftt,  Jtn 
nal.  1.  vi.  c.  C. 


440 


HISTORY  OF 


•midst  his  subjects  as  a  father  with  his  children. 
Though  he  knows  that  the  sword  ot"  justice  is  in  his 
hands,  he  dreads  to  make  use  of  it.  He  loves  to  turn 
aside  its  edge,  and  can  never  resolve  to  evince  his 
power,  but'with  extreme  reluctance,  in  the  last  ex- 
in  nit  tv,  and  will)  all  the  forms  and  sanction  of  the 
lews.1  But  a  tyrant  punishes  only  from  caprice  and 
passion;  and  bilieves,  says  Plutarch,  speaking  of  Dio- 
nv.-ius,  that  he  is  not  really  master,*  and  does  not  act 
with  supreme  authority,  but  in  proportion  as  he  sets 
himself  above  all  laws,  acknowledges  no  other  than 
his  own  will  and  pleasure,  and  sees  himself  obeyed 
implicitly.  Whereas,  continues  the  same  author,  he 
that  can  do  whatever  he  will,  is  in  great  danger  of 
willing  what  he  ought  not. 

Besides  these  characteristics  of  cruelty  and  tyran- 
ny, which  particularly  distinguish  the  first  DiouyMus, 
we  shall  see  in  his  history,  whatever  unbounded  am- 
bition, sustained  by  great  valour,  extensive  abilities, 
and  talents  qualified  for  acquiring  the  confidence  of  a 
people,  is  capable  of  undertaking  for  the  attainment 
of  sovereignty;  the  various  means  which  he  had  the 
address  to  employ  for  maintaining  himself  in  it  against 
the  opposition  ot'  his  enemies,  and  the  odium  ot  the 
public;  and,  lastly,  the  tyrant's  good  fortune  in  esca- 
ping, during  a  reign  of  thirty-eight  years,  the  many 
conspiracies  formed  against  him,  and  in  transmitting 
peaceably  the  tyranny  to  his  son,  as  a  legitimate  pos- 
session, and  an  hereditary  right. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SECTION    I. — MEANS  MADE  USE  OF  BY  DIOJfYSIUS 
THE  ELDER,  TO  POSSESS  HIMSELF  OF  THE  TYRANNY. 

DlOMSlUS  was  a  native  of  Syracuse,'  of  noble  and 
illustrious  extraction  according  to  some,  but  others  say 
his  birth  was  base  and  obscure.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
he  distinguished  himself  by  his  valour,  and  acquired 
great  reputation  in  the  war  with  the  Carthaginians. 
He  was  one  of  those  who  accompanied  Hermocrates, 
when  he  attempted  to  re-enter  Syracuse  by  force  of 
arms,  after  having  been  banished  through  the  intrigues 
of  his  enemies.  The  event  of  that  enterprise  was  not 
fortunate.  Hermocrates  was  killed.  The  Syracu- 
sans  did  not  spare  his  accomplices,  several  of  whom 
were  public'  ly  executed.  Dionysius  was  left  amongst 
the  wounded.  The  report  of  his  death,  designedly 
given  out  by  his  relations,  saved  his  life.  Providence 
would  have  spared  Syracuse  an  infinity  of  misfor- 
tunes, had  he  expired  either  in  the  field  or  by  the  ex- 
ecutioner. 

The  Carthaginians  had  made  several  attempts  to  es- 
tabli-h  themselves  in  Sicily,  and  to  possess  themselves 
of  the  principal  citie*  there,  as,  we  have  observed  else- 
where.4 The  happy  situation  of  that  island  for  their 
maritime  commerce,  the  fertility  of  its  soil,  and  the 
riches  of  its  inhabitants,  were  powerful  inducements 
to  such  an  enterprise.  We  may  form  an  idea  of  the 
wealth  of  some  of  its  cities  from  Diodorus  Siculus's 
account  of  Agrigontum.  The  temples  were  of  extraor- 
dinary magnificence,*  especially  that  of  Jupiter  Olym- 
pius,  which  was  340  feet  in  length,  60  in  breadth, 
and  120  in  height.  The  piazzas,  or  galleries,  in  ex- 
tent and  beauty,  corresponded  with  the  rest  of  the 
building.  On  one  side  was  represented  the  battle  of 
the  giants,  on  the  other  the  taking  of  Troy,  in  figures 
at  large  as  the  life.  Without  the  city  was  an  artificial 


i  II  IT  est  in  maxiini  potentate  vcrissima  animi  tempe 
rnntin,  non  rupiititate  nliqua  nnn  temeritate  inrrniii;  mm 
priorum  principum  exempli«  corruptum.  quantum  in  rive* 
suo-i  |irrai.  experiiMido  tentare  ;  xcd  helietare  aciem  imperil 
cui.  Quid  interest  inter  tyrannum  el  resem  (species  cnim 
ipxa  fortune  ac  liccntia  par  e*t,1  nisi  quod  t yranni  in  volup- 
taie  NFvinnt,  reges  non  nisi  ex  causa  et  necessitate?  Scxec. 
de  C'em  lib.  i  r.  11. 


i  o-  >,tT».  »•-..<;»  $v*±nntr.    Ad  Princ..  indoct.  p.  782. 
«   Dim).  I.  xiii.  p.  1!I7. 
4  In  ihe  history  nf  the  Carthaginian*. 
•  Diol  I  liii.p.  203.206. 


lake,  which  was  seven  stadia  (above  a  quarter  ot  • 
league)  in  circumference  and  thirty  feet  in  depth.  It 
was  full  of  all  kinds  of  fish,  covered  with  swr.;is  and 
other  water-fowls,  and  afforded  the  most  agreeable 
prospect  imaginable. 

It  was  about  the  time  of  which  we  speak,  that  Exe- 
netas,  victor  in  the  Olympic  games,  entered  the  city 
in  triumph  in  a  magnificent  chariot,  attended  by  309 
more,  all  drawn  by  white  horses.  Their  habits  glit- 
tered with  gold  and  silver;  and  nothing  wa>  ever  mere 
splendid  than  their  appearance.  Gtllias,  the  moat 
wealthy  of  the  citizens  of  Agrigeiituin,  had  erected 
several  large  apartments  in  his  house  tor  the  recep- 
tion and  entertainment  of  his  guests.  Servants  wai- 
ted by  his  order  at  the  gates  of  the  city,  to  invite  all 
strangers  to  lodge  at  their  master's  house,  whither 
they  conducted  them.  Hospitality  was  much  prac- 
tised and  esteemed  by  the  generality  of  that  citv.  A 
violent  storm  having  obliged  500  horsemen  to  take 
shelter  there,  Gellias  entertained  them  all  in  his  house, 
and  supplied  them  immediately  with  dry  clothes,  oi 
which  he  had  always  a  great  quantity  in  his  wardrobe. 
This  is  understanding  how  to  make  a  noble  use  of 
riches.  His  ct  liar  is  much  talked  of  by  historians,  in 
which  he  had  300  reservoirs  hewn  out  of  the  rock, 
each  of  which  contained  100  amphorae.6 

This  great  and  opulent  city  was 
besieged,  and  at  length  taken  by  the  A.  M.  3598. 

Carthaginians.  Its  fall  shook  all  Ant.  J.  C.  40d 
Sicily,  am!  spread  a  universal  ter- 
ror. The  cause  of  its  being  lost  was  imputed  to  th« 
Syracusans.  who  had  but  weakly  succoured  it.  Dio- 
nysius, who  even  then  was  engrossed  solely  by  the 
thoughts  of  his  grand  designs,  and  who  was  engaged, 
though  secretly,  in  laving  the  foundation  of  his  future 
power,  took  advantage  of  this  favourable  opportunity, 
and  of  the  general  complaints  of  Sicily  against  the  Sy- 
racusans, to  render  the  magistrates  odious,  and  to  ex- 
claim against  their  administration.  In  a  public  as- 
sembly, held  to  consider  of  the  present  state  of  atlaira, 
when  nobody  dared  to  opt  •»  their  mouths  for  feai  ,»f  in- 
curring the  displeasure  of  he  persons  at  the  he/m.  Dio- 
nysius rose  up,  and  boldly  accused  the  iiift«i^  rates  of 
treason ;  adding,  that  it  was  his  opinion,  that  they  ought 
to  be  deposed  immediately,  without  waiting  till  the 
term  of  their  administration  should  expire.  They  re- 
torted this  audacity  by  treating  him  as  a  seditious  per- 
son, and  a  disturber  of  the  public  tranquillity, and  at 
such  laid  a  fine  upon  him  according  to  the  laws.  Thii 
was  to  be  paid  before  he  could  be  admitted  to  speak 
again,  and  Dionysius  was  not  in  a  condition  to  dis- 
charge it.  Philistus,  one  of  the  richest  citizens  (who 
wrote  the  history  of  Sicily,  which  is  not  come  down 
to  us,)  deposited  the  money,  and  exhorted  him  at  the 
same  time  to  give  his  opinion  upon  the  state  of  affairs 
with  all  the  liberty  which  became  a  citizen  zealous  for 
his  country. 

Dionysius  accordingly  resumed  his  discourse  with 
more  vigour  than  before.  He  had  long  cultivated  the 
habit  of  eloquence,  which  he  looked  upon  with  rea- 
son as  a  talent  very  necessaiv  in  a  republican  -ro\  ern- 
ment;  especially  with  relation  to  his  views  of  acqui- 
ring the  people's  favor,  and  of  conciliating  them  to  his 
measures.  He  began  with  describing  in  a  livt  ly  »nd 
pathetic  manner  the  ruin  of  Agngentum,  a  neighbour- 
ing city,  and  one  of  their  nllianre ;  the  deplorable  ex- 
tremitv  to  which  the  inhabitants  had  been  reduced  of 
quitting  the  place  under  cover  of  the  night:  the  criet 
and  lamentntions  of  infants,  and  of  aged  and  sick  per- 
sons, whom  they  had  been  obliged  to  abandon  to  a  fe- 
rocious and  merciless  enemy  ;  and  the  cruel  murder  of 
all  who  had  been  left  in  the  city,  whom  the  barba 
rous  victor  dragged  from  the  temples  and  altais  of 
the  gods,  a  feeble  asylum  Hgainst  the  Carthaginian  fu 
ry  and  impiety.  He  imputed  all  thtse  evil?  t<>  the  trea 
c'herv  of  the  commanders  of  the  army,  who,  instead  oi 
marching  to  the  relief  of  Agrigeiilum.  had  retreated 
with  their  troops:  to  the  criminal  rt  II»MII  •••  and  delaj 
of  the  magistrates,  who  had  suffered  themselves  to  b« 


•  An  amphora  contained  about  seven  gallons  :  100  ron»a 
quently  roniiated  of  700  gallon*,  or  eleven  hogsheaus  sevu 
gal  lor.*. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


441 


eotrupted  by  Carthaginian  bribes;  and  to  the  pride  of 
th*  serial  and  rich,  xvho  thought  only  of  establishing 
their  own  power  upon  the  ruins  of  their  country's  li- 
berty, lit-  represented  Syracuse  as  composed  of  two 
different  bodies;  the  one,  bv  their  power  and  influ- 
ence, usurping  all  the  dignities  and  wealth  of  the  state; 
the  other,  obscure,  despised,  and  IraiBpied  Ooder  foot, 
bearing  tl>'  *«  I  yoke  of  a  shameful  >en  itude,  and  ra- 
ther sliivos  than  citizens.  He  con>'lu  fed  with  saying, 
that  the  only  remedy  for  so  many  evils  was  to  elect 
persons  from  among-t  the  people,  devoted  to  their  in- 
terests, and  who,  not  being  capable  of  rendering  them- 
selves formidable  by  their  riches  and  authority,  would 
be  solely  employed  for  the  public  good,  anil  apply  in 
earnest  to  the  re-establishment  of  liberty  in  Syracuse. 

This  disc mrse  was  li.-tened  to  with  infinite  plea- 
•ure,  as  all  speeches  are  which  flatter  the  natural  pro- 
pensitv  of  inferi  .rs  to  complain  of  the  government, 
Bnd  was  followed  with  the  universal  applause  of  the 
people,  who  always  give  themsehes  up  blindly  to 
those  who  l.now  how  to  deceive  them  under  the  spe- 
cious prr.trxt  of  serving  tln-ir  interest.  All  the  ma- 
pi-trates  v/ere  deposed  upon  the  spot, and  others  sub- 
stituted in  their  room,  with  Dionysius  at  the  head  of 
them. 

This  was  only  the  first  step  to  the  tyranny,  and  he 
did  not  stop  here.  The  success  of  his  undertaking 
inspired  him  with  new  courage  and  confidence.  He 
hat1  als:i  in  view  the  displacing  of  the  generals  of  the 
army,  and  baring  their  power  transferred  to  biimell 
The  'lisiicn  was  bold  and  dangerous,  and  he  set  about 
it  with  address.  Before  he  attacked  them  openly,  he 
planted  his  batteries  against  them  at  a  distance;  ca- 
lu.nni  iting  them  by  his  emissaries  airong  the  people, 
an.l  «pirin«f  no  pains  to  render  them  suspected.  He 
caused  it  to  be  whispered  amongst  the  populace,  that 
those  commanders  held  secret  intelligence  with  the 
em  my  :  that  couriers  in  disguise  were  frequently  seen 
pa«'nig  and  repaying;  and  that  it  was  not  to  be  doubt- 
ed, but  5  mie  conspiracy  was  on  foot.  He  affected  on 
his  side  not  to  see  those  leaders,  nor  to  open  himself 
to  them  at  all  u|K>n  the  affairs  of  the  public.  He  com- 
municated none  of  his  designs  to  them,  as  if  he  was 
apprehensive  of  rendering  himselfsuspected  bv  having 
an.  intercourse  or  correspondence  with  them.  Per- 
sons of  sense  and  discernment  were  not  at  a  loss  to 
dis.-ovi  r  tSe  tendency  of  these  undermining  arts;  nor 
were  they  silent  upon  the  occasion;  but  the  common 
people,  prejudiced  in  his  favour,  incessantly  applau- 
ded and  admired  his  zeal,  and  looked  upon  him  as 
the  sole  protector  and  asserter  of  their  rights  and  li- 
berties. 

Another  scheme,  which  he  set  at  work  with  his 
usual  address,  was  of  very  great  service  to  him,  and 
exceedingly  promoted  his  designs.  There  was  a 
grep.t  number  of  banished  persons  dispersed  through- 
out Sicily,  whom  the  faction  of  the  nobility  of  Syra- 
cuse h;i<i  expelled  the  city  at  different  times  and  upon 
different  pretences.  He  knew  what  an  addition  of 
strength  so  numerous  a  bodv  of  citizens  would  be  to 
him.  whom  tcratitude  to  their  benefactor,  and  resent- 
ment against  those  who  had  occasioned  their  banish- 
ment, the  hope  of  retrieving  their  affair*,  and  of  en- 
riching themselves  out  of  the  spoils  of  their  enemies, 
Ivould  rentier  well  calculated  for  the  execution  of  his 
.  an  I  attach  them  unalterably  to  his  person 
»nd  interest.  He  applied  therefore  earnestly  to  ob- 
tain their  recall.  It  was  given  out  that  it  wa§  neces- 
sary to  rai-e  a  numerous  body  of  troops  to  oppose  the 

M  of  the  Carthaginians, and  thepeopl< 
with  anxiety  the  expense,  to  which  the  new  le\i<s 
would  amount.  Dionysius  took  advantage  of  this 
favourable  conjecture  and  disposition  of  the  public 
mind.  He  represented,  that  it  w.\\-  ridiculous  to  bring 
foreign  troops  at  a  great  expense  from  Italy  and  the 
Pelop;>ni)f -us,  whil-t  their  own  country  would  supply 
them  with  excellent  toldltn,  without  being  n*  any 
charge  at  all;  that  there  were  numbers  of  Svracusans 
in  everv  part  of  Sicily,  who,  notwithstanding  the  ill 
treatment  they  had  received,  had  alwnys  returned  the 
hearts  of  citizens  under  the  name  and  condition  of  ex- 
iles: that  they  preserved  a  tender  affection  and  invio- 
lable fidelity  "for  their  country,  and  had  chosen  rather 
Vol.  1—56 


to  wander  about  Sicily  without  support  or  settlement, 
than  to  enrol  themselves  in  the  armies  of  the  inemr. 
however  advantageous  the  orters  to  induce  them  to 
it  had  been.  This  discourse  of  Dionysius  had  all  the 
effect  upon  the  people  he  could  have  wished.  His 
colleagues,  who  perceived  plainly  what  he  had  in 
view,  were  afraid  to  contradict  him:  rightly  .judging, 
that  their  opposition  would  not  only  prov  e  melli  dual, 
but  incense  the  people  against  them,  and  even  aug- 
ment the  reputation  of  Dlonvsiu?,  to  whom  It  would 
leave  the  whole  honour  of  recalling  the  exiles.  Tin  ir 
return  was  therefore  decreed,  and  they  accordingly 
came  all  to  Syracuse  without  losing  time. 

A  deputation  from  Gela,  a  city  dependant  on  Syra- 
cuse, arrived  about  the  same  time,  to  demand  lhat  the 
garrison  should  be  reinforced.  Dionysius  iniiniiiiatt  \y 
marched  thither  with  2000  foot  and"  400  horse.  He 
found  the  city  in  a  great  commotion,  and  divided  into 
two  factions;  one  of  the  people,  and  the  other  of  the 
rich  and  powerful.  The  latter  having  been  tried  in 
form,  were  condemned  by  the  assembly  to  die,  and 
to  have  their  estates  confiscated  for  the  use  of  the 
public.  This  confiscation  was  applied  to  pay  off  the 
arrears,  which  had  long  been  due  to  the  firmer  gar- 
rison, commanded  by  Dexippus  the  Lacedaemonian; 
and  Dionysiiis  prom'ised  the  troops  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  Syracuse  to  double  the  pay  they  \sere 
to  receive  from  the  city.  This  was  attaching  BO  ma- 
ny new  creature?  to  himself.  The  inhabitants  of 
Gela  treated  him  with  the  highest  marks  of  honour, 
and  sent  deputies  to  Svracuse,  to  return  their  thanks 
for  the  important  service  that  city  had  (lone  them  in 
sending  Dionysius  thither.  Having  endeavoured  in 
vain  to  bring  Dexippus  into  his  measures,  he  returned 
with  his  troops  to  Syracuse,  after  having  promised 
the  inhabitants  of  Gela,  who  used  all  means  in  their 
power  to  keep  him  amongst  them,  that  he  would  soon 
return  with  more  considerable  aid. 

He  arrive  I  at  Syracuse  ju-t  as  the  people  were 
coming  out  of  the  theatre,  who  ran  in  throngs  about 
him.  inquiring  with  earnestness  xvhat  he  had  heard  of 
the  Carthaginians.  He  answered  with  a  sad  and  de- 
jected air,  that  the  city  nourished  far  more  dange- 
rous and  formidable  enemies  in  her  own  bosom;  thai 
whilst  Carthage  was  making  extraordinary  prepara- 
tions for  the  invasion  of  S\  r.icu-e,  those  who  were  in 
command,  instead  of  rousing  the  zeal  and  attention 
of  the  citizens,  and  netting  every  thing  at  work  a^ain-t 
the  approach  of  so  potenf  an  enemy,  lulled  them  witli 
trivial  amusements  and  idle  shows,  and  suffered  the 
troops  to  want  necessaries:  converting  their  pay  to 
their  private  uses  in  a  fraudulent  manner,  which  wnt 
destructive  to  the  public,  affairs:  that  he  had  always 
sufficiently  comprehended  the  cause  of  such  a  con- 
duct; that  however  it  was  not  now  upon  mere  con- 
jecture, but  upon  too  evident  proof,  that  his  com- 
plaints were  founded:  that  Imilco,  the  general  of  the 
Carthaginians,  had  sent  an  officer  to  him,  under  pre- 
text of  treating  about  the  ransom  of  prisoners,  but  in 
reality  to  prevail  on  him  not  to  be  too  strict  in  exa- 
mining into  the  conduct  of  his  colleagues;  and  that 
if  he  would  not  enter  into  the  measures  of  Carthage, 
at  least  that  he  would  not  oppose  then):  that  for  his 
part  he  came  to  resign  his  command,  and  to  abdicate 
his  dignity,  that  he  might  leave  no  room  for  injurious 
suspicions  of  his  acting  in  concert,  and  holding  intel- 
ligence, with  traitor*  who  sold  the  commonwealth. 

This  discourse  being  rumoured  amongst  the  troop* 
and  about  the  city,  occasioned  great  inquietude  and 
alarm.  The  next  day  the  assembly  was  summoned, 
and  Dionvsius  renewed  his  complaints  against  the  ge- 
nerals, which  were  received  with  universal  applause. 
Some  of  the  assembly  cried  out.  that  it  was  n- 
immediately  to  appoint  him  g;eneralis«inio,  with  unli- 
mited power,  and  that  it  would  be  too  late  to  have  re- 
course to  so  salutary  a  measure  when  the  enemy  was 
at  the  gates  of  Syracuse:  that  the  importance  of  the 
war  with  whirn  they  were  threatened  required  such* 
leader:  that  it  was  "in  the  same  manner  formerly,  thai 
Gelon,  when  elected  ceneralissimo.  had  ,!e:eated  ill* 
Carthaginian  army  at  Himera.  which  consisted  of  300,- 
000  men:  that  as' for  the  accusation  alleged  against 
the  traitors,  it  might  be  deferred  to  another  day,  but 


442 


HISTORY  OF 


ihat  the  present  affair  would  admit  of  no  delay.  Nor 
vas  it  in  fact  delayed;  for  the  people  (who,  when 
once  prejudiced,  run  headlong  after  their  opinion  with- 
out examining  any  thing)  elected  Dionysius  generalis- 
simo with  unlimited  power  that  instant.  In  the  same 
assembly  he  caused  it  to  be  decreed,  that  the  soldier's 
pay  should  be  doubled;  insinuating,  that  the  state 
would  be  amply  reimbursed  by  the  conquests  which 
would  be  the  consequence  of  that  advance.  This  be- 
ing done,  and  the  assembly  dismissed,  the  Syracusans 
upon  cool  reflection  on  what  had  passed,  began  to  be 
in  some  consternation — as  if  it  had  not  been  the  effect 
of  their  own  choice:  and  comprehended,  though  too 
late,  that  from  the  desire  of  preserving  their  liberty, 
they  had  given  themselves  a  master. 

Dionysius  rightly  judged  the  importance  of  taking 
his  measures  before  the  people  repented  what  they 
had  done.  There  remained  but  one  step  more  to 
the  tyranny,  which  was  to  have  a  body  of  guards 
assigned  him;  and  that  he  accomplished  in  the  most 
artful  and  politic  manner.  He  proposed  that  all  the 
citizens  under  forty  years  of  age,  and  capable  of  bear- 
ing arms,  should  march  with  provisions  for  thirty  days 
to  the  city  of  Leontium.  The  Syracusans  were  at 
that  time  in  possession  of  the  place,  and  had  a  garri- 
son in  it.  It  was  full  of  fugitive  and  foreign  soldiers, 
who  were  very  fit  persons  for  the  execution  of  his  de- 
signs. He  justly  suspected,  that  the  greatest  part  of 
the  Syracusans  would  not  follow  him.  He  set  out, 
however,  and  arriving  in  the  night,  encamped  upon 
the  plains  near  the  city.  It  was  not  long  before  a 


great  noise  was  heard  throughout  the  whole  camp. 
This  tumult  was  raised  by  persons  planted  for  that 
purpose  Lv  Dionysius.  He  affected  to  believe  that 


ambuscades  had  been  laid  with  design  to  assassinate 
him,  ami  in  great  trouble  and  alarm  retired  for  refuge 
into  the  citadel  of  Leontium,  where  he  passed  the  rest 
of  the  night,  after  having  caused  a  great  number  of 
fires  to  be  lighted,  and  drawn  around  him  such  of  the 
troops  as  he  most  confided  in.  At  break  of  day  the 
people  assembled  in  a  body,  to  whom,  expressing  still 
great  apprehension,  he  explained  the  danger  he  had 
been  in,  and  demanded  permission  to  choose  himself 
a  guard  of  600  men  for  the  security  of  his  person.  Pi- 
sistratus  had  set  him  the  example  long  before,  and  had 
used  the  same  stratagem  when  he  made  himself  ty- 
rant of  Athens.  Hi*  demand  seemed  very  reasonable, 
and  was  accordingly  complied  with.  He  chose  out 
1000  men  for  his  guard  upon  the  spot,  armed  them 
completely,  equipped  them  magnificently,  and  made 
them  great  promises  for  their  encouragement.  He 
also  attached  the  foreign  soldiers  to  his  interest  in  a 
peculiar  manner,  by  speaking  to  them  with  great  free- 
dom and  affability.  He  made  many  removals  and  al- 
terations in  the  troops,  to  secure  the  officers  in  his 
interest;  and  dismissed  Dexippus  to  Sparta,  as  he  dis- 
trusted him.  At  the  same  time  he  ordered  a  great 
part  of  the  garrison,  which  he  had  sent  to  Gela,  to  join 
him.  and  assembled  from  all  parts  fugitives,  exiles, 
debtors,  and  criminals, — a  train  worthy  of  a  tyrant. 

With  this  escort  he  returned  to  Syracuse,  that 
trembled  at  his  approach.  The  people  were  no  longer 
in  a  condition  to  oppose  his  undertakings,  or  to  dispute 
his  authority.  The  city  was  full  of  foreign  soldiers, 
and  saw  itself  upon  the  point  of  being  attacked  by  the 
Carthaginians.  To  strengthen  himself  the  more  in 
the  tyranny,  he  espoused  the  daughter  of  Hermo- 
crntes,  the  most  powerful  citizen  of  Syracuse, and  who 
had  contributed  the  most  to  the  defeat  of  the  Atheni- 
ans. He  also  gave  his  sister  in  marriage  to  Polyxe- 
nu»,  brother-in-law  of  Hermocrates.  He  afterwards 
summoned  an  assembly,  in  which  he  rid  himself  of 
Daphneus  and  Demarchus,  who  had  been  the  most 
active  in  opposing  his  usurpation.  In  this  manner 
Dionysius  from  a  simple  notary  and  a  citizen  of  the 
lowest  class,  made  himself  absolute  lord  and  tyrant 
of  the  greatest  and  most  opulent  city  of  Sicily. 

SECTION  II.— COMMOTIONS  IX  SICILY  AND  AT 
SYRACUSE  AGAINST  DIO.NYSIUS.  HE  FINDS  MEANS 
TO  DISPEL  THEM.  T.)  PREVENT  REVOLTS,  HE  PRO- 
POSES TO  ATTACK  THE  CARTHAC.IMANS.  HIS  WON- 
DERFUL AI-PUCATION  AND  SUCCESS  IN  MAKING 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  WAR.  PLATO  COMES  TO 
SYRACUSE.  HIS  INTLMACY  AND  FRIENDSHIP  WITH 
DION. 

DIONYSIUS  had  a  rude  shock  to  sustain  in  the.  begin- 
ning of  his  usurpation.1  The  Carthaginians  having 
besieged  Gela,  he  marched  to  its  relit!,  and  alter  some 
unsuccessful  endeavours  against  the  enemy,  threw 
himself  into  the  place.  He  behaved  there  witii  little 
vigour,  and  all  the  service  he  did  the  inhabitants  was 
to  make  them  abandon  their  city  in  the  night,  and  to 
cover  their  tlight  in  person.  He  was  suspected  of 
acting  in  concert  with  the  enemy,  and  the  more,  be 
cause  they  did  not  pursue  him,  and  that  he  lost  very 
few  of  his  foreign  soldiers.  All  the  inhabitants  who 
remained  at  Gela  were  butchered.  Those  ot  Cama- 
rina,  to  avoid  the  same  fate,  fallowed  their  example, 
and  withdrew  with  all  the  effects  they  could  carry 
away.  The  moving  sight  of  aged  persons,  matrons, 
young  virgins,  and  tender  infants,  hurried  on  beyond 
their  strength,  struck  Dianysius's  troops  with  compas- 
sion, and  incensed  them  against  the  tyrant.  Those 
he  had  raised  in  Italy  withurew  to  their  own  country; 
and  the  Syracusan  cavalry,  alter  having  made  a  vain 
attempt  to  kill  him  upon  the  march,  from  his  being 
surrounded  with  his  foreigners,  pushed  forwards,  ana 
having  entered  Syracuse,  went  directly  to  his  palace, 
which  they  plundered,  using  his  wife  at  the  same  time 
with  so  much  violence  and  ill  treatment,  that  she  died 
of  it  soon  after.  Dionysius,  who  had  foreseen  their  de- 
sign, followed  them  close  with  only  100  horse  and  400 
foot;  and  having  made  a  forced  march  of  almost  twenty 
leagues,*  he  arrived  at  mulnigh'  at  the  gate  of  Achra- 
dina,  which  he  found  shut  against  him.  He.  set  tire  to 
it,  and  thus  opened  himself  a  passage.  The  richest  of 
the  citizens  ran  thither  to  dispute  his  entrance,  but 
were  surrounded  by  the  soldiers,  and  almost  all  of 
them  killed.  Dionysius  having  entered  the  city,  put 
all  to  the  sword  that  came  in  his  way,  plundered  the 
houses  of  his  enemies,  of  whom  he  killed  a  great  mini 
ber,  and  forced  the  rest  to  leave  Syracuse.  The  next 
morning  the  whole  body  of  his  troops  arrived.  The 
unhappy  fugitives  of  Gela  and  Camarina.o'jt  of  horror 
for  the  tyrant,  retired  to  the  Leontines.  Imilco  hay  ing 
sent  a  herald  to  Syracuse,  the  treaty  was  concluded 
which  has  been  mentioned  in  the  history  ot  the  Cartha- 
ginians.3 By  one  of  the  articles  it  was  stipulated, 
that  Syracuse  should  continue  under  the  government 
of  Dionysius;  which  confirmed  all  the  suspicions  that 
had  been  conceived  of  him.  This  happened  iu  the 
year  Darius  Nothus  died. 

It  was  then  he  sacrificed  to  his  re- 
pose and  security  every  thing  that  A.  M.  3600. 
could  give  him  umbrage.  He  knew  Ant.  J.  C.  404, 
that  after  having  deprived  the  Syra- 
cusans of  all  that  was  most  dear  to  them,  he  could  not 
fail  of  .incurring  their  utmost  hatred;  and  the  fear  of 
the  miseries  he  had  to  expect  from  it,  increased  in  the 
usurper,  in  proportion  to  their  abhorrence  ol  him.  He 
looked  upon  all  his  new  subjects  as  so  many  enemies, 
and  believed  that  he  could  guard  against  the  dangers 
which  surrounded  him  on  both  sides,  and  dogged  him 
in  all  places,  only  by  cutting  off  one  part  of  the  people, 
to  intimidate  the  other.  He  did  not  perceive,  that  bjr 
adding  the  cruelty  of  executions  to  the  oppression  of 
the  public,  he  only  mull i plied  his  enemies,  and  induced 
them  after  the  loss  of  their  liberty,  to  preserve  at  least 
their  own  lives  by  attempts  upon  his. 

Dionysius,*  who  foresaw  that  the  Syracusans  would 
not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  the  repose,  in  which  the 
treaty  lately  concluded  with  the  Carthaginians  had 
left  them,  to  attempt  the  re-establishment  of  their 
liberty,  neglected  nothing  on  hissiile  to  strengthen  his 
power.  He  fortified  the  part  of  tin:  city  called  the 
Isle,  which  was  already  very  strong  from  the  nature  of 
its  situation,  and  might  be  defended  by  a  moderate 
garrison.  He  surrounded  it  with  good  walls,  I'ankt  d 
at  due  distances  with  high  towers,  and  separatee!  it  in 
that  manner  from  the  rest  of  the  city.  To  these  works 
he  added  a  strong  citadel,  to  serve  him  for  a  retreat 


i  Died.  I.  xiii.  p  227.  231. 
•  Page  49 


•  Pour  hundred  sts  lia 
Diod.  i).  23d  241. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


443 


and  refuge  in  case  of  accident;  and  caused  a  great 
camber  of  shops  and  piazzas  to  be  erected,  capable 
of  containing  a  considerable  multitude  of  inhabitants. 

As  to  the  land?,  he  chose  out  the  best  of  them, 
which  he  bestowed  upon  his  creatures  and  the  officers 
jf  his  appointing,  and  distributed  the  rest  in  equal  pro- 
portion among*!  the  citizens  and  strangers,  including 
amongst  the  former  the  slaves  who  had  been  made 
free.  He  divided  the  houses  in  the  same  manner,  re- 
serving those  in  the  Isle  for  such  of  the  citizens  as  he 
could  most  confide  in,  and  for  his  strangers. 

After  having  taken  these  precautions  for  his  secu- 
rity, he  began  to  think  of  subjecting  several  free  states 
Oi  Sicily,  which  had  aided  the  Carthaginians.  He  be- 
gan with  the  siege  of  Herbesus.  The  Syracusans  in 
his  annv,  seeing  theirswords  in  their  hands,  thought  it 
their  duty  to  use  them  for  the  re-establishment  of  their 
liberty.  "  At  a  time  when  they  met  in  throngs  to  con- 
cert their  measures,  one  of  the  office™,  who  took  upon 
him  to  reprove  them  in  harsh  terms,  was  killed  upon 
the  spot,  and  his  death  served  as  a  signal  for  their  re- 
volt. They  sent  immediately  to  jEtna  for  the  horse 
who  had  re'tired  thither  at  the  beginning  of  the  revo- 
lution. Dionysius,  alarmed  at  this  motion,  raised  the 
siege,  and  marched  directly  to,  Syracuse,  to  keep  it 
in  obedience.  The  revellers  followed  him  close,  and 
having  seized  upon  the  suburb  Epipolae,  barred  him 
from  all  communication  with  the  country.  Having 
received  aid  from  their  allies  both  by  sea  and  land, 
they  seta  price  upon  the  tyrant's  head,  and  promised 
the"  freedom  of  the  city  to  such  of  the  strangers  as 
should  abandon  him.  A  great  number  came  over  to 
them:  whom  they  treated  with  the  utmost  favour  and 
humanity.  They  made  their  machines  advance,  and 
battered  the  walls  of  the  Isle  vigorously,  without 
giving  Dionysius  the  least  respite. 

The  tyrant,  finding  himself  reduced  to  extremities, 
abandoned  by  the  greatest  part  of  the  strangers,  and 
•hut  up  on  the  side  of  the  country  assembled  his 
friends  to  consult  with  them,  rather  by  what  kind  of 
death  he  should  put  a  glorious  period  to  his  career, 
than  upon  the  means  of  saving  himsf  It".  They  endea- 
voured to  inspire  him  with  new  courage,  and  were. 
divided  in  their  opinion*;  but  at  last  the  advice  of 
Philistus  prevailed,  which  was,  that  he  should  by  no 
means  renounce  the  tyranny.  Dionysius,  to  gain 
time,  sent  deputies  to  the  revolters,  and  demanded 
permission  to  quit  the  place  with  his  adherents;  which 
was  granted,  and  five  ships  were  allowed  him  to  trans- 
port his  followers  and  effects.  He  had,  however,  sent 
despatches  secretly  to  the  Campanians, who  garrisoned 
the  places  in  the  possession  of  the  Carthaginians,  with 
offers  of  considerable  reward,  if  they  would  come  to 
his  relief. 

The  Syracusans,  who,  after  the  treaty,  believed 
their  business  done,  and  the  tyrant  entirely  defeated, 
had  disarmed  part  of  their  troops,  and  the  rest  acttd 
with  great  indolence  and  little  discipline.  The  arri- 
val of  the  Campaniaus,  to  the  number  of  1200  horse, 
infinitely  surprised  and  alarmed  the  city.  Afttr  ha- 
ving beaten  such  as  disputed  their  passage,  they  open- 
ed themselves  a  way  to  Dionysius.  At  the  same  time, 
300  soldiers  more  arrived  to  his  assistance.  The  face 
of  thinirs  was  then  entirely  altered,  and  terror  and 
rejection  now  were  transferred  to  the  Syracusans. 
Dionysius,  in  a  sally,  drove  the  Svrarusans  vigorous- 
ly as  Var  a*  that  part  of  the  city  chlfed  IS'eapolis.  The 
ilauahter  wa«  not  very  considerable,  because  he  had 
given  orders  to  spare  those  that  fled.  He  caused  the 
dead  to  be  interred,  and  gave  those  who  had  retired 
to  jEtna  to  understand,  that  thev  might  return  with 
entire  sf  curitj,  promising  entirely  to  forget  the  pa«t. 
Many  raine  to  Syracuse,  but  others  did  not  think  it 
advisable  to  confide  in  the  faith  of  a  tyrant.  The 
Campanians  were  rewarded  to  their  satisfaction,  and 
dismissed. 

The  Lacedsemomans  at  this  time  look  such  mea- 
sures in  re-card  to  Syracuse  at  were  mo§t  worthy  of 
the  Spartan  name.  They  had  lately  subverted  the  li- 
berty of  Athens,  and  declared  publicly,  in  all  the  ci- 
ties dependent  upon  them,  against  popular  govern- 
ment. They  deputed  one  ol'tlieir  citizens  to  Svra- 
eiu>«  o»teuiib'y  to  express  the  interest  they  took  in 


the  misfortunes  of  that  city,  and  to  offer  it  their  aid, 
but,  in  realitVi  to  confirm  Dionysius  in  his  resolution 
of  supporting  himself  in  the  tyranny;  expecting,  that 
from  the  increase  of  his  power,  he  would  prove  of 
great  advantage  and  support  to  (heir  own. 

Dionysius  saw,  from  what  had  so  lately  happened 
at  Syracuse,  what  he  was  to  expect  from  the  people 
for  the  future.  Whilst  the  inhabitants  were  employed 
abroad  in  gathering  in  their  harvest,  he  entered  their 
houses,  and  seized  upon  .ill  the  arms  he  could  find 
He  afterwards  enclosed  the  citadel  with  an  additicn- 
al  wall,  fitted  out  abundance  of  ships,  armed  great 
numbers  of  strangers,  and  took  all  pus-ible  measures 
to  secure  himself  against  the  disaffection  of  the  Syra- 
cusans. 

After  having  made  this  provision  for  his  safety  at 
home,  he  prepared  to  extend  his  conquests  abroad; 
from  whence  be  proposed  to  himself  not  merely  the 
increase  of  his  dominions  and  revenues,  but  the  addi- 
tional advantage  of  diverting  his  subjects  from  feeling 
the  loss  of  their  liberty,  by  turning  their  attention  to- 
wards their  ancient  and  always  abhorred  enemy,  and 
by  employing  them  in  lofty  projects,  military  expedi- 
tions, and  glorious  exploits,  to  which  the  hopes  of 
riches  and  plunder  would  be  annexed.  He  relied  also 
on  acquiring  by  this  means  the  affection  of  his  troops, 
and  on  securing  the  esteem  of  the  people  by  the 
grandeur  and  success  of  his  enterprises. 

Dionysius  wanted  neither  courage  nor  policy,  and 
had  all  the  qualities  of  a  great  general.  He  took, 
either  by  force  or  fraud,  Naxos.  Catena,  Leontium, 
and  some  other  towns  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Sy- 
racuse.1 which  for  that  reason  were  very  convenient 
for  his  purposes.  Some  of  them  he  treated  with  fa- 
vour  and  clemency,  to  engage  the  esteem  and  confi- 
dence of  the  people:  others  he  plundered,  to  strike 
terror  into  the  country.  The  inhabitants  of  Leonti- 
um were  transplanted  to  Syracuse.  _ 

These  conquests  alarmed  the  neighbouring  cities, 
which  saw  themselves  threatened  with  the  same  mis- 
fortune. Rhegium,  situate  upon  the  opposite  coa»t 
of  the  strait  which  divides  Sicily  from  Italy,  prepared 
to  prevent  it,  and  entered  into  an  alliance  with  the 
Syracusan  exiles,  who  were  very  numerous,  and  in- 
duced the  Messenians,  on  the  Sicilian  side  of  the 
strait,  to  aid  them  with  a  powerful  supply.  They  had 
levied  a  considerable  army,  and  were  upon  the  point 
of  marching  against  the  tyrant,  when  discord  arose 
amongst  the  troops,  and  rendered  the  enterprise  abor- 
tive. It  terminated  in  a  treaty  of  peace  and  alliance 
between  Dionysius  and  the  two  cities. 

He  had  long  revolved  a  great  design  in  his  mind — 
to  ruin  the  Carthaginian  power  in  Sicily,  which  was 
a  great  obstacle  to  his  own,  as  his  discontented  sub- 
jects never  failed  of  finding  a  secure  refuge  in  the 
towns  dependent  upon  that  nation.  The  occurrence 
of  a  plague,  which  had  lately  ravaged  Carthage,  and 
extremely  diminished  its  strength,  seemed  to  supply 
a  favourable  opportunity  for  the  execution  of  his  de- 
sign. But.  as  a  man  of  ability,  he  knew  that  the 
greatness  of  the  preparations  ought  to  correspond 
with  that  of  an  enterprise,  to  assure  the  success  of  it; 
and  he  took  his  measures  in  a  manner  which  show* 
the  extent  of  his  views,  and  extraordinary  caput  ity. 
He  therefore  used  uncommon  pains  and  application; 
conscious  that  the  war,  into  which  he  was  going  to 
enter  with  one  of  the  most  powerful  nations  then  in 
the  world,  might  be  of  long  duration,  and  be  attended 
with  consequences  of  the  utmost  importance. 

His  first  care  was  to  bring  to  Syra- 
cuse, as  well  from  the  conquered  ci-  A.  M.  3605. 
ties  in  Sicily  as  from  Greece  and  Ita-  Ant.  J.  C.  399. 
ly,  a  great  number  of  artisans  and 
workmen  of  all  kinds,  whom  he  induced  to  come  thi- 
ther by  the  lure  of  great  gain  and  reward,  the  certain 
means  of  ensuing  the  most  skilful  persons  in  every 
proft  s«ion.  He  canoed  an  infinite  number  of  arms  of 
all  kinds  to  be  forged;  swords  javelins,  l.mce*.  )«r- 
tisans,  helmfts. cuirasses  bucklers;  all  alter  the  man- 
ner  of  the  nation  by  whom  they  were  to  be  worn  He 
built  also  a  great  number  of  galleys  that  had  froci 


>  ./Etna      Enna. 


444 


HISTORY  OF 


P 
b 


three  to  fiv  :  benches  of  rowers,  and  were  an  entirely 
new  invention,  with  abundance  of  barks  and  other 
vessels  for  the  transportation  of  troops  and  provisions. 
Tiie  whole  city  seemed  but  one  workshop, and  con- 
tinually resound'ed  with  the  noise  of  the  several  arti- 
sans. Not  only  the  porches  of  the  temples,  the.  pi- 
azzas, porticoes,  places  of  exercise,  and  public  squares, 
but  even  private  houses  of  a.'iy  extent,  were  full  of 
workmen.  Dionysius  had  distributed  them  with  ad- 
mirable order.  Each  species  of  artists,  divided  by 
streets  and  districts,  had  their  overseers  and  inspect- 
ors, who  by  their  presence  and  direction  promoted  and 
compltttd  the  works.  Dionysius  himself  was  perpe- 
tually amongst  the  workmen,  stimulating-ami  encoura- 
ging them  by  praise  and  rewards  in  proportion  to  their 
merit.  He  knew  how  to  confer  different  marks  of 
honour  upon  them,  according  as  they  distinguished 
themselves  by  their  ingenuity  or  industry.  He  would 
even  make  some  of  them  dine  with  him  at  his  own 
table,  where  he  entertained  them  with  the  freedom 
and  kindness  of  a  friend.  It  is  justly  said,  that  ho- 
nour nourishes  the  arts  and  sciences,'  and  that  men 
cf  all  ranks  and  conditions  are  animated  by  the  love 
of  glory.  The  prince  who  knows  how  to  put  the  two 
great  springs  and  strongest  incentives  of  the  human 
soul,  interest  and  glory,  in  motion  under  proper  regu- 
lations, will  soon  make  all  arts  and  sciences  flourish 
in  his  kingdom,  and  fill  it  at  a  small  expense  with 
'Crsons  who  excel  in  ever}'  profession.  And  this 
appened  now  at  Syracuse,  where  a  single  person,  of 

3 real  ability  in  the  art  of  governing,  excited  such  ar- 
our  and  emulation  amongst  the  artificers  as  it  is  not 
easy  to  imagine  or  describe. 

Dionysius  applied  himself  more  particularly  to  naval 
affairs.  He  knew  that  Corinth  had  invented  the  art 
of  building  galleys  with  three  and  five  benches  of 
oars,  and  was  ambitious  of  acquiring  for  Syracuse,  a 
Corinthian  colony,  the  glory  of  bringing  that  inven- 
tion to  perfection;  which  he  effected.  The  timber 
for  building  his  galleys  was  brought,  part  of  it  from 
Italy,  where  it  was  drawn  on  carriages  to  the  sea-side, 
and  from  thence  shipped  to  Syracuse;  and  part  from 
mount  /Etna,  which  at  that  time  produced  abundance 
of  pine  and  fur  trees.  In  a  short  time,  a  fleet  of  200 
galleys  was  seen  to  rise,  as  it  were,  all  at  once  out  of 
the  earth;  and  100  others,  formerly  built,  were  refit- 
ted by  his  order:  he  caused  also  160  sheds  to  be  erect- 
ed within  the  great  port,  each  capable  of  containing 
two  galleys,  and  150  more  to  be  repaired. 

The  sight  of  such  a  fleet,  built  in  so  short  a  time, 
and  fitted  out  with  so  much  magnificence,  would  have 
given  reason  to  believe  that  all  Sicily  had  united  its 
labours  and  revenues  in  accomplishing  so  great  and 
expensive  a  work.  On  the  other  side,  the  view  of 
such  an  incredible  quantity  of  arms  newly  made, 
would  have  inclined  one  to  think  that  Dionysius  had 
solely  employed  himself  in  providing  them,  and  had 
exhausted  his  treasures  in  the  expense.  They  con- 
sisted of  140,000  shields,  and  as  many  helmets  and 
swords:  and  upwards  of  14,000  cuirasses,  finished  with 
all  the  art  and  elegance  imaginable.  They  were  in- 
tended for  lhe~horse,  for  the  tribunes  and  centurions 
of  the  foot,  and  for  the  foreign  troops  who  had  the 
guard  of  his  person.  Darts,  arrows,  and  lances  were 
innumerable;  and  engines  and  machines  of  war  in 
proportion  to  the  rest  of  the  preparations. 

The  fleet  was  to  be  manned  by  nn  equal  number 
of  cit'zens  and  strangers.  Dionysius  did  not  think  of 
rai«i  ii  troops  till  all  his  preparations  were  complete. 
Syracuse  and  the  cities  in  its  dependance  supplied 
him  with  part  of  his  forces.  Many  came  from  Greece, 
and  especially  from  Sp.irta.  The  considerable  pay 
he  offered  brought  soldiers  in  crowds  from  all  parti 
to  enlist  in  hi*  service. 

He  omitted  none  of  the  precautions  neces-atv  t<> 
ensure  the  success  of  his  enterprise;  the  importance 
as  well  as  difficulty  of  which  was  well  known  to  him. 
He  was  not  ignorant  that  every  tiling  depends  upon 
the  zeal  and  affection  of  the  troops  for  their  general, 
and  applied  himself  particularly  to  gain  the  hearts. 


i  HOMOK  Mil  artes,  omneirqtie  incenduntur  ad  stodia  glo- 
r».— Cic.  Tusc.  Q.UIT.H.  I.  i.  n.  4. 


not  of  hi*  own  subjects  only,  but  of  a  1  the  inhabitant* 
of  Sicily,  and  was  wonderfully  Micce»s!ul  in  his  at- 
tempts. He  hail  tnlirtly  changed  his  behaviour  for 
some  time.  Kindness,  courti  sv,  rlrmencvi  a  disposi- 
tion to  do  good,  and  an  obliging  and  insinuating  de- 
portment to  all,  had  taken  place  ol  that  haughty  and 
imperious  air  and  inhumanity,  which  had  rendered 
him  so  odious.  He  was  so  entirely  altered,  that  h« 
did  not  seem  to  be  the  same  man. 

Whilst  he  was  hastening  his  preparations  for  war 
and  studying  to  attain  his,  subject's  affection*,  he  me- 
ditated an  alliance  with  two  powerful  cities,  Rhegiurn 
and  Messina,  which  were  capable  of  disconcerting  his 
great  designs  by  a  formidable  diversion.  The  league 
formed  against  him  by  those  cities  some  time  hi  lore, 
though  without  any  effect,  gave  him  some  uneasiness, 
He  therefore  thought  it  necessary  to  make  sine  of  tl.e 
amity  of  them  both.  He  presented  the  inhabitants  of 
Messina  with  a  considerable  quantity  of  land,  which 
was  situate  in  their  neighbourhood, and  lav  very  com- 
modiously  lor  them.  To  give  the  people  ol  Khegi- 
iiin  an  instance  of  his  esteem  and  regard  tor  them,  he 
sent  embassadors  to  desire  that  they  would  gut  him 
one  of  their  citizens  in  marriage.  He  had.  lost  his 
first  wife  in  the  popular  commotion,  of  which  men- 
tion has  already  been  made. 

Dionysius,  sensible  that  nothing  establishes  a  throne 
more  t  lit  -dually  than  the  prospect  of  a  successor,  who 
may  enter  into  the  same  designs,  have  the  same  inte- 
rests, pursue  the  same  plan,  and  observe  the  same 
maxiute  of  government,  took  the  opportunity  of  the 
present  tranquillity  of  his  affairs  to  contract  a  double 
marriage,  in  order  to  have  a  successor,  to  whom  he 
might  transfer  the  sovereignty  which  had  cost  him  so 
many  toils  and  dangers  to  acquire. 

The  people  of  Rhenium,  to  whom  Dionysiiis  had 
first  applied,  having  called  a  council  to  take  his  de- 
mand into  consideration,  alter  a  long  debate  came  to 
a  resolution  not  to  contract  any  alliance  with  a  ty- 
rant; and  for  their  final  answer  returned,  that  they 
had  only  the  hangman's  daughter  to  give  him.  The 
raillery  was  keen,  and  cut  deep.  We  shall  see  ;a 
the  sequel  how  dear  that  city  paid  for  their  je«t. 

The  Locrians,  to  whom  Dionysius  sent  the  same 
embassadors,  did  not  show  themselves  so  difficult  and 
delicate,  but  sent  him  for  a  wile  Doris,  the  daughter 
of  one  of  their  most  illustrious  citizens  He  can-ed 
her  to  be  brought  from  Locris  in  a  ijallev  with  five 
benches  of  rowers,  of  extraordinary  magnificence,  and 
glittering  in  every  part  with  gold  and  silver.  Hf 
married,  at  the  same  time,  Aristomache,  daughter  of 
Hippai  inus,  the  most  considerable  and  powerful  of 
the  citizens  of  Syracuse,  and  sister  of  Dion,  of  whonJ 
much  will  be  said  hereafter.  She  was  brought  to  hii 
palace  in  a  chariot  drawn  b}'  four  white  horses,  which 
was  then  a  singular  mark  of  distinction.  The  nup- 
tials of  both  were  celebrated  the  same  day  with  uni- 
versal rejoicings  throughout  the  whole  city,  and  at 
tended  with  feasts  and  presents  of  incredible  magni 
ficence. 

It  was  contrary  to  the  manners  and  universal  cus- 
tom of  the  western  nations,  from  the  earliest  times 
that  he  espoused  two  wives  at  once;  taking  in  this,  ai 
in  every  thinsj  else,  the  liberty  assumed  by  tyrants,  of 
settino:  themselves  above  all  laws. 

Dionysius  seemed  to  have  an  equal  affection  for  th« 
two  wives,  without  giving  the  preference  to  either,  t( 
remove  all  cause  of  jealousy  and  discord.  The  peo- 
ple of  Syracuse  reported  that  he  preferred  his  own 
countrywoman  to  the  foreigner;  but  the  latter  had 
the  good  fortune  first  to  bring-  her  husband  a  son. 
which  supported  him  not  a  little  against  the  cabals  and 
intrigues  of  the  Svracusans.  Aristomache  was  a  long 
time  without  any  symptoms  of  pregnancy,  though  Di- 
onysnis  desired  so  earnestly  to  have  issue  by  her,  that 
he  put  the  mother  of  hi*  Locrian  wife  to  death,  accu- 
sinir  her  of  hindering  Aristomache  from  conceiving, 
by  witchcraft  and  sorcery. 

Aristomache's  brother  was  the  celebrated  Dion,  whc 
was  in  great  estimation  with  Dionysius.  He  «as  a' 
first  obliged  for  his  credit  to  his  sister's  favour:  but  ha- 
ving afterwards  givf  n  proofs  of  his  jjreat  capacity  in 
many  instances,  his  own  merit  made  him  mush  be 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


445 


loved  and  regarded  by  the  tyrant.  Amongst  the  other 
marks  which  Dionysius  gave  him  of  his  confidence, 
he  ordered  his  treasurers  to  supply  him,  without  far- 
ther orders,  with  whatever  money  he  should  demand, 
provided  they  informed  him  the  very  same  day  what 
they  had  given  him. 

Dioii  had  naturally  a  great  and  D-  hie  soul.  A  hap- 
py accident  had  conduced  to  inspire  and  confirm  in 
fiini  the  most  elevated  sentiments.  A  kind  of  chance, 
or  rather,  as  Plutarch  says,  a  peculiar  providence, 
which  laid  at  a  distance  the  foundations ol  the  liberty 
of  Syracuse,  brought  Plato,  the  most  celebrated  of 
philosophers  to  that  city.  Dion  became  his  friend  and 
disciple,  and  made  great  improvements  from  his  les- 
sons, lor  though  brought  up  in  a  luxurious  and  vo- 
luptuous court,  where  the  supreme  good  was  made  to 
consist  in  pleasure  and  magnificence,  he  had  no  soon- 
er heard  the  precepts  of  his  new  master,  and  imbibed 
a  taste  of  the  philosophy  that  inculcates  virtue,  than 
his  soul  was  in/lamed  with  the  love  of  it.  Plato,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  gives  this  glorious  testimoy  of  him  ; 
that  lie  had  never  met  with  a  young  man  upon  whom 
his  discourses  made  so  great  an  impression,  or  who 
had  comprehended  his  principles  with  so  much 
quickness  and  vivacitv. 

As  Dion  was  young  and  inexperienced,  observing 
the  facility  with  which  Plato  had  changed  his  taste 
and  inclinations,  he  imagined,  with  simplicity  enough, 
thai  the  same  reasons  would  have  the  same  effects  up- 
on the  mind  of  Dionysius;  and  with  this  view  could 
not  rest  till  he  had  prevailed  upon  the  tyrant  to  hear 
and  converse  with  him.  Dionysius  consented;  but 
the  lust  of  tyrannic  power  had  taken  too  deep  a  root 
in  his  heart  to  be  ever  eradicated  from  it.  It  was 
like  an  indelible  dye,1  that  had  penetrated  his  inmost 
•out,  from  whence  it  was  impossible  ever  to  efface  it. 

Though  the  stay  of  Plato  at  the  court  made  no  al- 
teration in  Dionysius,8  the  latter  still  continued  to 
give  Dion  the  same  marks  of  his  esteem  and  confi- 
dence, and  even  to  endure,  without  taking  offence, 
the  freedom  with  which  he  spoke  to  him.  Dionvsius, 
ridiculing  one  day  the  government  of  Gelon,  formerly 
king  of  Syracuse,  and  saying,  in  allusion  to  his  name, 
that  he  had  been  the  lavg-Hing-stock  of  Sicilv.*  the 
whole  court  greatly  admired,  and  took  no  smafl  pains 
to  praise  the  quaintness  and  delicacy  of  the  conceit, 
insipid  and  flat  as  it  was,  and  indeed,  as  puns  and 
quibbles  generally  are.  Dion  took  it  in  a  serious 
tense,  and  was  so  bold  as  to  represent  to  him  that  he 
was  in  the  wrong  to  talk  in  that  manner  of  a  prince 
whose  wise  and  equitable  conduct  had  been  the  mo- 
del of  a  perfect  government,  and  given  the  Syracu- 
sans  a  favourable  opinion  of  monarchical  power. 
"  You  reign,"  added  he,  "and  are  trusted,  for  Gelon's 
sake;  but  for  your  sake;  no  man  will  ever  be  trusted 
after  you."  It  was  much  that  a  tyrant  should  suffer 
himself  to  be  talked  to  in  such  a  manner  with  im- 
punity. 

SECTION     III. DIONYSIUS     DECLARES     WAR 

AGAINST  THE  CARTHAGINIANS.  VARIOUS  SUC- 
CESS OF  IT.  SYRACUSE  REDUCED  TO  EXTREMI- 
TIES, AND  SOON  AFTER  DELIVERED.  NEW  COM- 
Mt.TInNS  AGAINST  DIONYSIUS.  DEFEAT  OF  IMII.- 
CO.  AND  AFTERWARDS  OF  MAGO.  UNHAPPY  FATE 
OF  THE  CITY  OF  RHEGIU.M. 

DIONYSIUS  seeing  his  great  preparations  were  now 
complete,  and  that  he  was  in  a  condition  to  take  the 
field,  publirlr  opened  his  design  to  the  Svracusans.  in 
order  to  interest  them  the  more  in  the  success  of  the 
enterprise,  and  told  them  that  it  was  his  intention  to 
make  war  against  the  Carthaginians.  He  reprtsented 
that  people  as  the  perpetual  and  inveterate  enemy  of 
the  Gi-ceks,  and  especially  of  those  who  inhabited  Si- 
cily; that  the  plague  which  had  lately  wasted  Car- 
thage, afforded  a  favourable  opportunity,  which  ought 
not  to  be  neglected;  that  the  people  in  subjection  to 


ttvv-.T-i-v  OVTIK  xai   J 

tii  rt»  %(  FT*,  i.T.». 
?.  779. 

•  Plut.  p.  OfO. 

i  r»xx,-  sijmfio*  la 


AfCftalcvc  Si  :»T»c  JTI 

>.ifmt.    Plut.  in  Moral. 


such  severe  masters,  waited  only  the  signal  to  rieclar* 
against  them;  that  it  would  he  glorious  ibr  Syracuse 
to  rein.-tate  the  Grecian  cities  In  their  liberty,  after 
having- so  long  groaned  under  the  }oke  of  the  Barba- 
rians; that  in  declaring  war  at  present  against  the 
Carthaginians,  they  only  anticipated  them  by  a  sh»rt 
time;  since  as  soon  as  thry  had  retrieved  their  losses, 
they  would  not  fail  to  attack  Syracuse  with  all  their 
forces. 

The  assembly  were  unanimous  in  opinion.  Their 
ancient  and  na'tural  hatred  of  the  Barbarians;  their 
anger  and  resentment  against  them  for  having  given 
S\  racuse  a  master;  and  the  hope  that  with  arms  in 
their  hands  they  might  find  some  occasion  of  recover- 
ing their  liberty,  united  them  in  their  suffrages.  The 
war  was  resolved  without  any  opposition,  and  it  began 
that  very  instant.  There  were  at  Syracuse,  as  well 
in  the  city  as  the  port,  a  great  number  of  Carthagi- 
nians, who,  relying  upon  the  faith  of  treaties  and  the 
peace,  exercised  traffic,  and  thought  themsdvts  in 
security.  The  populace,  by  Dionysius's  authority, 
upon  the  breaking  up  of  the  assembly,  ran  to  their 
houses  and  ships,  plundered  their  goods,  and  carried 
off  their  effects.  They  met  with  the  same  treatment 
throughout  Sicily;  and  murders  and  massacres  were 
added  to  this  pillage,  by  way  of  reprisal  for  the  many 
cruelties  committed  by  the  Barbarians  upon  those  they 
conquered,  and  to  show  them  what  they  had  to  expect 
if  they  continued  to  make  war  with  the  same  in- 
humanity. 

After  this  bloody  execution,  Diony- 
sius  sent  a  letter  by  a  herald  to  Car-  A.  M.  3607. 
thage,  in  which  he  signified  that  the  Ant.  J.  C.  397. 
Svracusans  declared  war  against  the 
Carthaginians,  if  they  did  not  withdraw  their  garri- 
sons froiu  all  the  Grecian  cities  held  by  them  in  Sici- 
ly. The  reading  of  this  letter,  which  took  place  first 
in  the  senate  and  afterwards  in  the  assembly  of  the 
people,  occasioned  an  uncommon  alarm,  as  the  pesti- 
lence had  reduced  the  city  to  a  deplorable  condition. 
However,  they  were  not  dismayed,  and  prepared  for 
a  vigorous  defence.  They  raised  troops  with  the  ut- 
most diligence,  and  Imilcoset  out  immediately  to  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  Carthaginian  army  in  Sicily. 

Dionvsius,  on  his  side,  lost  no  time,  and  took  the 
field  wi'th  his  army,  which  daily  increased  by  the  ar- 
rival of  new  troops,  who  came  to  join  him  from  all 
parts.  It  amounted  to  80,000  foot  and  3000  hone. 
The  fleet  consisted  of  200  galleys,  and  500  barks  la- 
den  with  provisions  and  machines  of  war.  He  open- 
ed the  campaign  with  the  siege  of  Motya,  a  fortified 
town  belonging  to  the  Carthaginians  near  mount 
Eryx,  in  a  little  island  something  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  league  from  the  continent,*  to  which  it  was  join- 
ed by  a  small  neck  of  land,  which  the  besieged  imme- 
diately cut  through,  to  prevent  the  approaches  of  the 
enemy  on  that  side. 

Dionysius  having  left  the  care  of  the  siege  to  L*p- 
tines,  who  commanded  the  fleet,  went  with  his  land 
forces  to  attack  the  places  in  alliance  with  the  Car- 
thaginians. Terrified  by  the  approach  of  so  nume- 
rous an  army,  they  all  surrendered  except  five;  which 
were  Ancyra,  Solos,  Palermo,5  Segesta,  and  Enttlla. 
The  last  two  places  he  besieged. 

Imilco,  however,  to  make  a  diversion,  detached  ten 
galleys  of  his  fleet,  with  orders  to  attack  and  surprise 
in  the  night  all  the  vessels  which  rtmained  in  the  port 
of  Svracuse.  The  commander  of  this  expedition  en- 
tered the  port  according  to  his  orders,  without  meet- 
ing with  resistance;  and  after  having  sunk  a  great 
part  of  the  vessels  which  he  found  there,  retired  well 
satisfied  with  the  success  of  his  enterprise. 

Dionysius,  after  having  wasted  the  enemy's  coun- 
try, returned,  and  sat  down  with  his  whole  army  be- 
fo're  Motya:  and  having  employed  a  great  number  of 
hands  in"  making-  causeways  and  moles,  he  lestored 
the  neck  of  land,  and  brought  forward  his  engines  on 
that  side.  The  place  was  attacked  with  the  utmost 
vigour,  and  equally  well  defended.  After  the  be- 
siegers had  passed  the  breach  and  entered  the  ciiy, 
the  besieged  persisted  a  great  while  in  defending 


4  Six  *tadit  or  farlonp*. 
2 


•  Panonrm. 


446 


HISTORY  OF 


themselves  with  incredible  valour;  so  that  it  was  ne- 
cessary lo  pursue  and  drive  them  from  house  to  house. 
The  soldiers,  enraged  at  so  ob-tinate  a  defence,  put 
all  before  them  to  the  sword;  age,  youth,  women, 
childran,  nothing  was  spared,  except  those  who  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  temples.  The  town  was  aban- 
doned to  the  soldiers'  discretion;  Dionysius  bt-ing 
E  leased  with  an  occasion  of  attaching  the  troops  to 
is  service  by  the  allurement  and  hope  of  gain. 
The  Carthaginians  made  an  extraordinary  effort  the 
next  year,  and  raised  an  army  of  300,000  loot  and  4000 
horse.  The  fleet  under  Mago's  command  consisted 
of  400  galleys,  and  upwards  of  600  vessels  laden  with 
provisions  and  engines  of  war.  Imilco  had  given  the 
captain?  of  the  fleet  his  orders  sealed  up,  which  were 
ot  to  be  opened  till  they  were  out  at  sea.  He  had 
akrn  this  precaution,  th.it  his  designs  might  be  kept 
secret,  and  to  prevent  spies  from  sending  information 
of  them  to  Sicily.  The  rendezvous  was  at  Palermo; 
where  the  fleet  arrived  without  much  loss  m  their  pas- 
gage.  Imilco  took  Eryx  by  treachery,  and  soon  afler 
compelled  Motya  to  surrender.  Messina  seemed  to 
him  a  place  of  importance;  because  it  might  favour 
the  landing  of  troops  from  Italy  in  Sicily,  and  bar  the 
passage  of  those  that  should  come  from  Peloponne- 
sus. After  a  long  and  vigorous  defence  it  fell  into  his 
hands,  and  some  time  after  he  entirely  demolished  it. 
Dionysius,  seeing  his  forces  extremely  inferior  to 
the  enemy,  retired  to  Syracuse.  Almost  all  the  peo- 
ple of  Sicily,  who  hated"^  him  from  the  beginning,  and 
were  only  reconciled  to  him  in  appearance  and  out 
of  fear,  took  this  occasion  to  quit  his  party,  and  to 
join  the  Carthaginians.  The  tyrant  levied  new 
troops,  and  gave  the  slaves  their  liberty,  that  they 
might  serve  on  board  the  fleet.  His  army  amounted 
to  30,000  fool  and  3000  horse,  and  his  fleet  to  180 
galleys.  With  these  forces  he  took  the  field,  and  re- 
moved about  eight  leagues  from  Syracuse.  Imilco  con- 
tinued to  advance  with  his  land"  army,  followed  hy 
his  fleet,  that  kept  near  the  coast.  When  he  arrived 
at  Naxos,  he  could  not  continue  his  march  along  the 
gea-side,  and  was  obliged  to  take  a  long  compass  round 
mount  .Etna,  which,  by  a  new  eruption,  had  set  the 
country  about  it  on  fire,  and  covered  it  with  ashes. 
He  ordered  his  fleet  to  wait  his  coming  up  at  Catana. 
Dionysius,  apprised  of  this,  thought  the  opportunity- 
favourable  for  attacking  it,  whilst  separated  from  the 
land  forces,  and  whilst  his  own,  drawn  up  in  battle 
upon  the  shore,  might  be  of  service  to  animate  and 
support  his  fleet.  The  scheme  was  wisely  concerted, 
but  the  success  not  answerable  to  it.  Leptines  his 
admiral,  having  advanced  inconsiderately  with  thirty 

Clleys,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  Dionysius,  who 
d  particularly  recommended  to  him  not  to  divide 
his  forces,  at  first  sank  several  of  the  enemy's  ships, 
hut,  upon  being  surrounded  by  the  greater  number, 
was  forced  to  fly.  His  whole  fleet  followed  his  ex- 
ample, and  was  warmly  pursued  by  the  Carthaginians. 
Mago  despatched  boats  full  of  sofdiers,  with  orders  to 
kill  all  that  endeavoured  to  save  themselves  by  swim- 
ming to  shore.  The  land  army  drawn  up  there,  saw 
them  perish  miserably,  without  being  able  to  give 
them  any  assistance.  The  loss  on  the  side  of  the 
Sicilians  was  very  great,  more  than  100  galleys  be- 
ing either  taken  or  sunk,  and  20,000  men  perishing 
either  in  the  battle  or  the  flight. 

The  Sicilians,  who  were  afraid  to  shut  themselves  up 
in  Syracuse,  where  they  could  not  fail  of  being  be- 
sieged very  soon,  solicited  Dionysius  to  lead  them 
against  Imilco,  whom  so  bold  an  enterprise  might  dis- 
concert: besides  which,  they  should  find  his  troops 
fatigued  with  their  long  and  forced  march.  The  pro- 
posal pleased  him  at  first;  but  upon  reflecting  that 
Mago,  with  the  victorious  fleet,  might  in  the  mean 
time  advance  and  take  Syracuse,  he  thought  it  more 
advisable  to  return  thither;  which  was  the  occasion 
of  his  losing  abundance  of  his  troops,  who  deserted  in 
numbers  on  all  side*.  Imilco,  after  a  march  of  two 
days,  arrived  at  Catana,  where  he  halted  some  days  to 
refresh  his  army,  and  refit  his  fleet,  which  had  su'fler- 
ed  exceedingly  by  a  violent  storm. 

He  then  marched  to  Syracuse,1  and  made  his  fleet 
i  Diod.  p.  386,  2%. 


j  enter  the  port  in  triumph.  More  than  200  gahen 
adorned  with  the  spoils  of  the  enemy,  made  a  noble 
appearance  as  they  advanced ;  the  crews  forming  a 

I  kind  of  concert  by  the  uniform  and  regular  order 
they  observed  in  the  motion  of  their  oars.  They 
were  followed  by  an  infinite  number  of  smaller  vet- 

I  sels;  so  that  the  port,  vast  as  it  was,  was  scarcely  ca- 
pable of  containing  them,  the  whole  sea  being  in  a 
manner  covered  with  sails.  At  the  same  time  on  the 
other  side  appeared  the  land  army  composed,  as  hai 
been  said,  of  300,000  foot  and  4000  horse.  Imilcc 
pitched  his  tent  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  and  the  army 
encamped  round,  at  somewhat  more  than  a  half 
league'sdistance  from  the  city.2  It  is  easy  tojudge  the 
consternation  and  alarm  with  which  such  a  prospect 
inspired  the  Syracusans.  The  Carthaginian  general 
advanced  with  his  troops  to  the  walls  to  ofler  the  Sy- 
racusans battle,  and  at  the  same  time  seized  upon  the 
two  remaining  ports  by  a  detachment  of  100  galleys.* 
As  he  saw  that  the  Svracusans  did  not  make  the  least 
movement,  he  retired",  contented  for  the  present  with 
the  enemy's  avowal  of  their  weakness,  r'or  thirty 
days  together  he  laid  waste  the  country,  cutting  clown 
all  the  trees,  and  destroying  all  before  him.  He  then 
made  himself  master  of  the  suburb  called  Arcliradina, 
and  plundered  the  temples  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine. 
Foreseeing  that  the  siege  might  probably  be  of  long; 
duration,  he  intrenched  his  camp,  and  enclosed  it  with 
strong  wall?,  after  having  demolished  for  that  purpose 
all  the  tombs,  and  amongst  others,  that  of  Gelon  and 
his  wife  Demarata,  which  was  a  most  magnificent 
monument.  He  built  three  forts  at  some  distance 
from  each  other;  the  first  at  Plemmyrium;  the  second 
towards  the  middle  of  the  port;  the  third  near  the 
temple  of  Jupiter;  in  order  to  secure  his  magazines 
of  corn  and  wine.  He  sent  also  a  great  number  of 
small  vessels  to  Sardinia  and  Africa  to  fetch  provisions. 
At  the  same  time  arrived  Polyxenus,  whom  his  bro- 
ther-in-law Dionysius  had  despatched  at  the  begin- 
ning'of  the  war  into  Italy  and  Greece  for  all  the  aid 
he  could  obtain,  and  he  brought  with  him  a  Heet  of 
thirty  ships,  commanded  by  Pharacides,  a  Lacedaemo- 
nian. This  reinforcement  came  very  seasonably,  and 
gave  the  Syracusans  new  spirit.  Upon  seeing  a  bark 
laden  with  provisions  for  the  enemy,  they  detached 
five  galleys,  ant!  took  it.  The  Carthaginians  gav« 
them  chase  with  forty  sail;  the  Syracusans  advanced 
with  their  whole  fleet,  and  in  the  battle  made  them- 
selves masters  of  the  admiral-galley,  damaged  many 
others,  took  twenty-four,  pursued  the  rest  to  the  place 
where  their  whole  fleet  rode,  and  offered  them  battle 
a  second  time,  which  the  Carthaginians,  discouraged 
by  the  check  they  had  received,  were  afraid  to  accept. 
The  Syracusans,  emboldened  by  so  unexpected  a 
victory,  returned  to  the  city  with  the  galleys  they  had 
taken,  and  entered  it  in  a  kind  of  triumph.  Animated 
by  this  success,  which  could  be  onlv  ascribed  lo  their 
valour,  (for  Dionysius  was  then  absent  with  a  small 
detachment  of  their  fleet  to  procure  provisionf  attend 
ed  by  Leptines,)  they  encouraged  each  other,  and 
seeing  themselves  with  arms  in  their  hands,  the*  re 
proached  one  another  with  cowardice,  ardently  ex 
claiming,  that  the  lime  was  come  for  throwing  otfthw 
shameful  yoke  of  servitude,  and  resuming  their  ancienl 
liberty.  . 

Whilst  they  were  in  the  midst  of  these  discourses 
dispersed  in  small  parties,  the  ty  rant  arrived  ;  and  ha- 
ving summoned  an  assembly,  he  congratulated  the 
Syracusans  upon  their  late  victory, and  promised  in  a 
short  time  to  put  an  end  to  the  war,  and  deliver  them 
from  the  enemy.  He  was  going  to  dismiss  the  assem- 
bly, when  Theodorus,  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of 
the  citizens,  a  person  of  sense  and  valour,  took  upon 
him  to  speak,  and  to  declare  boldly  for  liberty.  "  We 
are  told,"  said  he,  "  of  restoring  peace,  terminating 
the  war,  and  of  being  delivered  from  the  enemy 
What  signifies  such  language  from  Dionysius'?  Cat 
we  consider  as  peace  th«:  wretched  state  of  slavery  tc 
which  he  has  reduced  us?  Have  we  any  enemy  mor« 
to  be  dreaded  than  the  tyrant  that  subverts  our  liberty, 


»  Twelve  stadia. 

*  The  little  port  and  that  of  Trogiloi. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


447 


or  a  war  more  cruel  than  that  he  has  made  upon  us  [ 
for  so  many  years?  Let  Iinilco  conquer,  he  will  con- 
tent himstll  with  laying  a  tribute  upon  us,  and  leave  ' 
us  the  exercise  of  ourlaws;  but  the  tyrant  lhat  en- 
slaves us,  knows  no  other  than  his  avarice,  his  cruel- 
ty, his  ambition !  The  temples  of  the  gods  robbed  by 
his  sacrilegious  hands,  o-r  poods  made  a  prey,  and 
our  lands  abandoned  to  his  instruments,  our  persons 
daily  exposed  to  the  most  shameful  and  cruel  treat- 
ment, the  blood  of  so  many  citizens  shed  in  the  midst 
of  us,  and  before  our  eyes;  these  are  the  fruits  of  his 
reign,  and  the  peace  he  obtains  for  us!  Was  it  lor 
the  support  of  o"ur  liberties  lie  built  yon  citadel?  that 
be  hag  enclosed  it  with  such  strong  walls  and  high  tow- 
ers, and  has  called  in  for  his  guard  that  tribe  of  stran- 
gers and  barbarians  who  insult  us  with  impunity? 
How  long,  O  Syracusans,  shall  we  sutler  such  indig- 
nities, more  insupportable  to  the  brave  and  generous 
than  death  itself?  Bold  and  intrepid  againsfthe  ene- 
my abroad,  shall  we  always  tremble  like  rewards  in 
the  pre-sence  of  a  tyrant?  Providence,  which  has 
again  put  anus  into  our  hands,  directs  us  what  use  to 
make  of  them!  Sparta,  and  the  other  cities  in  our  al- 
liance who  glory  in  being  free  and  independent,  would 
deem  us  unworthy  of  the  Grecian  name  if  we  had  any 
other  sentiments.  Let  us  show  that  we  do  not  de- 
generate from  our  ancestors.  If  Dionvsius  consents 
to  retire  from  amongst  us,  let  us  open  him  our  gates, 
and  let  him  take  along  with  him  whatever  he  pleases; 
out  it  he  persists  in  the  tyranny,  let  him  experience 
what  effects  the  love  of  liberty  has  upon  the  brave 
and  resolute. '° 

After  this  speech,  all  the  Svracusans,  in  suspense 
betwixt  hope  and  fear,  looked  earnestly  upon  their 
silks,  and  particularly  upon  the  Spartans.  Pharaci- 
des,  who  commanded  their  fleet,  rose  up  to  speak. 
It  was  expected  that  a  citizen  of  Sparta  would  declare 
in  favour  of  liberty ;  but  he  did  quite  the  reverse:  and 
told  thfm  that  his  republic  had  sent  him  to  aid  the 
Syracusans  and  Dionysius  against  the  Carthaginians, 
and  not  to  make  war  upon  Dionvsius,  or  to  sub\ert 
his  Mthoritj.  This  answer  confounded  the  Syracu- 
*ans,  and  the  tyrant's  guard  arriving  at  the  same  time, 
the  assembly  broke  up.  Dionvsius  perceiving  more 
than  ever  what  he  haa  to  fear,  used  all  his  endeavour* 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  people,  and  to  attach 
the  citizens  to  his  interest?;  making  presents  to  some, 
inviting  others  to  eat  with  him,  and  affecting  upon 
ell  occasions  to  treat  them  with  kindness  and  fami- 
liarity. 

It  was  probably  about  this  time,1  that  Polyxenus, 
Dioiiysins's  brother-in-law,  who  had  married  his  sis- 
ter Tht-sta,  having  without  doubt  declared  against  him 
in  this  conspiracy,  fled  from  Sicily  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  his  life,  and  to  avoid  falling  into  the  tyrant's 
hands.  Dionysius  gent  for  his  sister,  and  bitterly  re- 
proached her  for  not  apprising  him  of  her  husband's 
intended  flight,  as  she  could  not  be  ignorant  of  it.  She 
replied  without  expressing  the  leasi  surprise  or  fear, 
"  Have  I  then  appeared  to  you  so  bad  a  wife,  and  of 
so  mean  a  soul,  as  to  have  abandoned  my  husband  in 
his  Might,  had  I  been  acquainted  with  his  design,  and 
not  to  have  desired  to  share  his  dangers  find  misfor- 
tunes? No!  I  knew  nothing  of  it;  or  I  should  have 
been  much  happier  in  being  called  in  all  places  the 
**ife  of  Polyxenus  the  exile,  than,  in  Syracuse,  the  sis- 
ter of  the  tyrant."  Dionysius  could  not  but  admire 
Ki  answer  so  full  of  spirit  and  generosity;  and  the  Sy- 
racusans in  general  were  so  charmed  with  her  virtue, 
that  after  the  tyranny  was  suppressed,  the_  same  ho- 
nours, equipage,  and  train  ot  a  queen,  which  she  had 
*>efore,  were  continued  to  herduring  her  life;  and  af- 
ter her  death,  the  whole  people  attended  her  body  to 
the  tonib,  and  honoured  her  funeral  with  an  extraor- 
dinary concourse. 

On  the  side  of  the  Carthaginians,  affairs  began  to 
take  a  new  appearance  on  a  sudden.  They  had  com- 
mitted an  irretrievable  error  in  not  attacking  Syra- 
cuse upon  their  arrival,  and  in  not  taking  advantage 
of  the  consternation  which  the  sight  of  their  fleet  and 
•rmy,  equally  formidable,  had  occasioned.  At  pre- 

i  Plut.  in  Dion.  p.  966. 


sent  the  plague,  which  was  looked  npon  as  a  punish 
ment  sent  from  heaven  for  their  plundering  ot  tem- 
ples and  demolishing  of  tombs,  had  destroyed  great 
numbers  of  their  army  in  a  short  time.  I  have  de- 
scribed the  extraordinary  symptoms  of  it  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Carthaginians.  To  add  to  that  misfor- 
tune, the  Syracusans,  being  informed  of  their  unhap- 
py condition,  attacked  them  in  the  night  by  sea  and 
land.  The  surprise,  and  terror,  and  even  haste  th«y 
were  in,  to  put  themselves  into  a  posture  of  defence, 
threw  them  into  new  difficulty  and  confusion.  They 
knew  not  on  which  side  to  send  relief;  all  being 
equally  in  danger.  Many  of  their  vessels  were  sunk, 
and  others  almost  entirely  disabled,  and  a  ninth 
greater  number  destroyed  by  fire.  The  old  men 
women,  and  children,  ran  in  crowds  to  the  walls  to 
be  witnesses  of  that  scene  of  horror,  and  lifted  up 
their  hands  towards  heaven,  returning  thanks  to  the 
gods  tor  so  signal  a  protection  of  their  city.  The 
slaughter  within  and  without  the  camp,  and  onboard 
the  vessels  was  great  and  dreadful,  and  ended  only 
with  the  day. 

Imilco,  reduced  to  despair,  offered  Dionysius  se 
cretly  300,000  crowns*  for  permission  to  retire  in  the 
night  with  the  remains  of  his  army  and  fleet.  The 
tyrant,  who  was  not  displeased  with  leaving  the  Car- 
thaginians some  resource,  to  keep  his  subjects  in  con- 
tinual awe,  gave  his  consent  ;  but  only  for  the  citi- 
zens of  Carthage.  Upon  which  Imilco.  four  days  af- 
ter, set  out  with  forty  ships,  filled  with  Carthaginians 
alone;  leaving  the  rest  of  his  troops  behinc.  'I  in 
Corinthians,  discovering  from  the  noise  and  motion 
of  the  galleys  that  Imilco  was  making  of)',  sent  to  in- 
form Dionysius  of  his  flight,  who  affected  ignorance 
of  it,  and  gave  immediate  orders  to  pursue  him;  but 
as  they  saw  that  those  orders  were  but  slowly  ext- 
cuted,  they  followed  the  enemy  themselves,  and  sunk 
several  vessels  of  their  rear  guard. 

Dionvsius  then  marched  out  with  his  troops;  but 
before  their  arrival,  the  Sicilians  in  the  Carthaginian 
•ervice  bad  retired  to  their  several  countries.  Having 
first  posted  troops  in  all  the  passes,  he  advanced  di- 
rectly to  the  enemy's  camp,  though  it  was  not  quite 
day.  The  barbarians,  who  saw  themselves  cruelly 
abandoned  and  betrayed  by  Imilco  and  the  Sicilians, 
lost  courage  and  fled.  Some  of  them  were  taken  by 
the  troops  in  the  p&sses;  others  laid  down  their  arms 
and  asked  quarter.  The  Iberians  alone  drew  up,  and 
sent  a  herald  to  capitulate  with  Dionysius,  who  in- 
corporated them  into  his  guards.  The  rest  were  all 
made  prisoners. 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  Carthaginians;  which 
shows, says  the  histoiian,3that  humiliation  tread*  upon 
the  heels  of  pride,  and  that  those  who  are  too  much 
puffed  up  with  their  power  and  success,  are  soon 
forced  to  confess  their  weakness  and  vanity.  Those 
haughty  victors',  matters  of  almost  all  Sicily,  who 
looked  upon  Syracuse  as  already  their  own,  and  had 
already  entered  triumphant  into  the  great  port,  in- 
sulting the  citizens,  are  now  reduced  to  fly  shamefully 
under  the  covert  of  the  night;  dragging  away  with 
them  the  sad  ruins  and  miserable  rrtiiains  of  their  fleet 
and  armv,  and  trembling  for  the  fate  of  their  native 
country.  Imilco,  who  had  neither  regarded  the  sa- 
cred refuge  of  temples,  nor  the  inviolable  sanctity  of 
tombs,  after  having  left  150,000  men  unburied  in  the 
eiu  my's  country,  returns,  to  perish  miserably  at  Car- 
thage, avenging  upon  hiinsi  If  by  his  death  the  con- 
tempt he  had  expres-ed  for  gods  and  men. 

Dionysius,  who  was  suspicious  of  the  strangers  in 
his  service,  removed  10,000  of  them,  and,  under 
the  pretence  of  rewarding  their  merit,  gave  them 
the  city  of  Leontium,  which  was  in  realiti  very 
comtnodiously  situated,  and  an  advantageous  »ettle- 
m<  r.t.  He  confided  the  guard  of  his  person  to  other 
foreigners,  and  the  slaves  whom  he  had  made  free. 
He  made  several  attempts  upon  places  in  Sicily,  and 
in  the  neighbouring  country,  especially  against  Rhc- 
gium.<  The  people  of  Italy,  seeing  themselves  in 
langer,  entered  into  a  powerful  alliance  to  put  a  stop 


»  Three  hundred  tnlcnrt. 
*  Diod.  I.  xiv  p.  304.  310. 


>  Diodoru  Siculu* 


HISTORY  OF 


to  his  conquests      The  success  was  tolerably  equal  on 
both  sides. 

About  this  time,  the  Gaul?,  who  some  months  be- 
fore had  burnt  Rome,  sent  deputies  to  Dionysius  to 
make  an  alliance  with  him.1  He  was  at  that  time  in  Ita- 
Ir.  The  advices  he  had  received  of  the  great  prepa- 
rations making'  by  the  Carthaginians  for  war,  obliged 
him  to  return  to  Sicily. 

In  fact,  the  Carthaginians  having  set  on  foot  a  nu- 
merous army  under  the  conduct  o  I'M  ago,  made  new 
efforts  against  Syracuse,  but  with  no  better  success 
than  the  former.  They  terminated  in  an  accommo- 
dation with  Dionysius. 

He  attacked  Rhegium  again,  and  at 

A.  M.  3615.  first  received  no  inconsiderable  check, 
A.nt.  J.  C.389.  But  having  gained  a  great  victory 
against  the  Greeks  of  Italy,  in  which 
he  took  more  than  10,000  prisoners,  he  dismissed  them 
all  without  ransom,  contrary  to  their  expectation; 
with  a  view  of  detaching  the  Italians  from  the.  inte- 
rests of  Rhegium,  and  of  dissolving  a  powerful  league, 
which  might  have  defeated  his  designs  against  that 
city.  Having  by  this  act  of  favour  and  generosity  ac- 
quired the  good  opinion  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country,  and  from  enemies  made  them  his  friends  and 
allies,  he  returned  against  Rhegium.  He  was  extreme- 
ly incensed  against  that  city,  upon  account  of  their 
refusing  to  give  him  one  of  their  citizens  in  marriage, 
and  the  insolent  answer  with  which  that  refusal  was 
attended.  The  besieged,  finding  themselves  incapable 
of  resisting  so  numerous  an  army  as  that  of  Diony- 
*ius,  and  expecting  no  quarter  if  the  city  were  taken 
by  assault,  began  to  talk  of  capitulating;  to  which  he 
hearkened  not  unwillingly.  He  made  them  pay  300,- 
000  crowns,  deliver  up  all  their  vessels  to  the  number 
of  seventy,  and  put  100  hostages  into  his  hands;  after 
which  he  raised  the  siege.  It  was  not  out  of  favour 
or  clemency  that  he  acted  in  this  manner,  but  to  make 
their  destruction  sure,  after  having  first  reduced  their 
power. 

Accordingly  the  next  year,  under  the  false  pretext, 
and  with  the  reproach  of  their  having  violated  the 
treaty,  he  besieged  them  again  with  all  his  forces, 
having  first  sent  back  their  hostages.  Both  parties 
acted  with  the  utmost  vigour.  The  desire  of  revenge 
on  one  side,  and  the  fear  of  the  most  cruel  torments 
on  the  other,  animated  the  troops.  Those  of  the  city 
were  commanded  by  Phyto,  a  brave  and  intrepid  man, 
whom  the  danger  of  his  country  rendered  more  cou- 
rageous. He  made  frequent  and  vigorous  sallies,  in 
one  of  which  Dionysius  received  a  wound,  of  which 
he  recovered  with  great  difficulty.  The  siege  went 
on  slowly,  and  had  already  continued  eleven  months, 
when  a  cruel  famine  reduced  the  city  to  the  last  ex- 
tremities. A  measure  of  wheat  (of  about  six  bushels) 
was  sold  for  about  ten  pounds.*  After  having  con- 
sumed all  their  horses  and  bensts  of  burden,  they 
were  reduced  to  support  themselves  with  leather  and 
hides,  which  they  boiled ;  and  at  last  to  feed  upon  the 
grass  of  the  fields  like  beasts:  a  resource  of  which 
Dionysius  soon  deprived  them,  by  making:  bis  horse 
eat  up  all  the  herbage  around  the  city.  Necessity  at 
length  reduced  them  to  surrender  at  discretion,  and 
Dionysius  entered  the  place,  which  he  found  covered 
with  dead  bodies.  Those  who  survived  were  rather 
skeletons  than  men.  He  took  above  6000  prisoners, 
whiom  he  sent  to  Syracuse.  Such  as  could  pay  about 
two  pounds5  he  dismissed,  and  sold  the  rest  for  slaves. 
.  Dionysius  let  fall  the  whole  weight  of  his  resent- 
ment and  revenge  upon  Phyto.  He  began  with  or- 
dering his  son  to  be  thrown" into  the  sea.  The  next 
day  he  ordered  the  father  to  be  fastened  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  highest  of  his  engine?  for  a  spectacle 
to  the  whole  army,  and  in  that  condition  he  sent  to 
tell  him  that  his  son  had  been  thrown  into  the  sea. 
"Then  he  is  happier  than  I  by  »  day,"  replied  that 
unfortunate  parent.  He  afterwards  caused  him  to  be 
Jed  through  the  whole  city,  to  be  scourged  with  rods, 
and  to  suffer  a  thousand  other  indignities,  whilst  a 
herald  proclaimed,  "  that  the  perfidious  traitor  was 


>  Juftin.  1.  xx.  c.  5 

t   PIT*  «iM 


•  One  mina. 


treated  in  that  uianner,  for  having  inspired  the  peo- 
ple of  Rhenium  with  rebellion." — "  Sav  rather,"  an- 
swered  that  generous  defender  of  his  country's  li- 
berty, "  that  a  faithful  citizen  is  so  used,  for  having  re- 
fused to  sacrifice  his  country  to  a  tyrant."  Such  an 
object  and  such  a  discourse  drew  tears  from  all  f  yes, 
and  even  from  the  soldiers  of  Dionvsius.  Hr  was 
afraid  his  prisoner  would  be  taken  from  him  before 
he  had  satiated  hi?  revenge,  and  ordered  him  to  be 
flung  into  the  sea  directly. 

SECTION     IV.— VIOLENT    PASSION   OF     DIONYSIUS 

FOR  POESY.      REFLECTIONS  UPO.N  THAT  TASTE  u» 

THE    TVRA.NT.       FLATTERY   OF    HIS    CCUKTIKRS. 

GENEROUS    FREEDOM    OF  PHILOXENUS.       DEATH 

OF  DIONYSIUS.      HIS  BAD  QUALITIES. 

AT  an  interval  of  leisure  which  his  success  asrainst 
Rhegium  had  left  Dionysius,4  the  tyrant,  who  wa<  de- 
sirous of  glory  of  every  kind,  and  piqued  himsell  upon 
the  excellence  of  hi>  genius,  sent  his  brother  Theari- 
des  to  Olympia,  to  dispute  in  his  name  the  prizes  of 
the  chariot-race  and  poetry. 

The  circumstance  which  I  am  now  going  to  treat, 
and  which  regards  the  taste  or  rather  passion  of  Dio- 
nysius for  poetry  and  polite  learning,  being  one  of  his 
peculiar  characteristics,  and  having  besidts a  jnixture 
of  good  and  bad  in  itself,  makes  it  requisite,  in  order 
to  form  an  equitable  judgment  upon  this  point,  to 
distinguish  wherein  this  taste  of  his  is  either  laudable 
or  worthy  of  blame. 

I  say  the  same  of  the  tyrant's  total  character,  with 
whose  vices  of  ambition  and  tyranny  many  great  qua- 
lities were  united,  which  ought  not  to  be  disguised  or 
misrepresented  ;  the  veracity  of  history  requiring,  that 
justice  should  be  done  to  the  most  wicked,  as  they 
are  not  so  in  every  respect.  We  have  seen  M  \.  lal 
things  in  his  character  that  certainly  deserve  praise; 
I  mean  in  regard  to  his  manners  and  behaviour:  the 
mildness  with  which  he  suffered  the  freedom  of  young 
Dion,  the  admiration  he  expressed  of  the  bold  ana 
generous  answer  of  his  sister  Thesta  upon  the  occa- 
sion of  her  husband's  flight,  his  gracious  and  insinu- 
ating deportment  upon  several  other  occasions  to  the 
Syracusans,  the  familiarity  with  which  he  conversed 
with  the  meanest  citizens  and  even  workmen,  the 
equality  he  observed  between  his  two  wives,  and  his 
kindness  and  respect  for  them;  all  which  implv  that 
Dionysius  had  more  equity,  moderation,  affability,  and 
generosity,  than  is  commonly  ascribed  to  him.  He 
is  not  such  a  tyrant  as  Phalaris,  Alexander  of  Pherae, 
Caligula,  Nero,  or  Caracalla. 

But  to  return  to  Dionysius's  taste  for  poetry.  In 
his  intervals  of  leisure,  he  loved  to  unbend  in  the  con- 
versation of  persons  of  wit,  and  in  the  study  of  the 
arts  and  sciences.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  versi- 
fying and  employed  himself  in  the  composition  of 
poems,  especially  of  tragedies.  Thus  far  this  pas*ion 
of  his  may  be  excused,  having  something  undoubtedly 
laudable  in  it;  I  mean  in  his  taste  for  polite  learning, 
the  esteem  he  expressed  for  learned  men,  his  inclina- 
tion to  do  them  good  offices,  and  the  employment  to 
which  he  devoted  his  leisure  hours.  Was  it  not  bet- 
ter to  employ  them  in  exercising  his  mind  and  th« 
cultivation  of  science,  than  in  feasting,  dancing,  the- 
atrical amusements,  earning,  frivulous  company,  and 
other  pleasures  still  more  pernicious?  This  is  the 
wise  reflection  which  Dionysius  the  younger  made 
when  at  Corinth.  Philip  ot  Macedon  being  at  tabl« 
with  him,5  spoke  of  the  odes  and  tragedies  his  fatdei 
had  left  behind  him  with  an  air  of  raillery  and  con 
tempt,  and  seemed  to  be  under  some  difficulty  to  com 
prehend  at  what  time  of  his  life  he  had  leisure  foi 
such  compositions.  Dionysius  smartly  and  wittily 
replied,  "  The  difficulty  is  very  great  indeed  !  Why 
he  composed  them  at  those  hours  which  you  and  I 
and  an  infinity  of  others,  who  have  so  hi^h  an  opin 
ion  of  ourselves,  pass  in  drinking,  and  other  diver 
sions." 

Julius  Cseear  and  the  emperor  Augustus  cult  vated 
poetry,  and  composed  tragedies.'  Lucullus  intended 


«  Died.  I  xiv  r  31H        •  Plut.  in  Timol.  p.  2-13.  c.  lxit» 
•  Suet    in  Cap*,  c.  Ivi.  in    August,  c.  Uxxv.     Plut.  :.n  L 
cut.  p.  492. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


449 


fc>  have  written  the  memoirs  of  his  militar}-  actions  in 
rerse.  The  comedies  of  Terence  <*ere  attributed  to 
Lieltus  and  Sripio,  both  great  captain*,  especially  the 
latter;  and  that  report,  which  generally  prevailed  at 
Rome  was  so  far  from  lessening  their  reputation,  that 
it  added  to  the  general  esteem  in  whK'h  thev  win- 
held. 

These  relaxations,  therefore,  were  not  blameable  in 
their  own  nature;  this  taste  for  poetry  was  rather 
laudable,  if  kept  within  due  bounds;  but  Dion J mi 
was  ridiculous  for  pretending  to  excel  all  others  in  it. 
He  could  not  endure  either  a  superior  or  competitor 
in  any  thing.  From  being  in  the  sole  possession  of 
supreme  authority,  he  had  accustomed  himself  to  ima- 
gine, that  he  possessed  the  same  paramount  rank  in 
the  empire  of  wit:  in  a  word,  he  was  in  every  thing  a 
tyrant.  His  immoderate  estimation  of  his  own  merit 
Bowed,  in  some  measure,  from  the  overbearing  turn 
of  mi-id  which  empire  and  command  had  given  him. 
The  "ontinual  applauses  of  a  court,  and  the  flatteries 
of  those  who  knew  how  to  recommend  themselves  by 
nothing  his  darling  foible,  were  another  source  of 
thisxain  conceit.  And  of  what  will  not  a  great  man,1 
a  minister,  a  prince,  think  him-df  capable,  who  has 
such  incense  and  adoration  continuallv  paid  to  him? 
It  is  well  known  that  Cardinal  Richelieu  in  the  midst 
ot  his  important  business,  not  only  composed  dra- 
i.'iatic  pieces,  but  piqued  himself  on  his  excellence  in 
that  tiili-nt;  and  what  is  more,  his  jealousy  in  that 
p-/lnt  rose  so  high  as  to  use  his  authority  in  causing 
ciitici-ms  to  be  directed  Kgainst  the  compositions  of 
those  to  whom  the  public,  a  just  and  incorruptible 
judge  in  the  question,  had  given  the  preference  against 
him. 

Dionysius  did  not  reflect,  thp.t  there  are  things  es- 
timable in  themselves,  and  conferring  honour  upon 
private  person?,  in  which  it  does  not  become  a  prince 
to  desire  to  excel.  I  have  mentioned  elsewhere  Phi- 
lip of  Macedon's  expression  to  his  son  Alexander,  up- 
on his  having  shown  too  much  skill  in  music  at  a  pub- 
lic entertainment:  "Are  you  not  ashamed,"  Mid  he, 
"to  sing  so  well?"  It  was  acting  inconsistently  with 
thedignity  of  his  rank.  IfCa;sarand  Augustus,  when 
they  wrote  tragedies,  had  taken  it  into  their  heads  to 
equal  or  excel  Sophocles,  it  had  not  only  been  ridi- 
culous, but  a  reproach  to  them.  And  the  reason  is, 
because  a  prince  being  obliged  by  an  essential  and 
indispensable  duty  to  apply  himself  incessant!;,-  to  the 
affairs  of  government,  and  having  an  infinitude  of  va- 
rious business  perpetually  flowing  in  upon  him,  he  can 
make  no  other  use  of  the  sciences,  than  to  divert  him 
at  such  short  intervals,  a«  will  not  admit  such  pro- 
gross  in  them,  as  is  requisite  in  order  to  excel  those 
who  make  them  their  particular  study.  Hence  when 
the  public  sees  a  prince  affect  the  first  rank  in  this 
kind  of  merit,  they  have  a  right  to  conclude  that  he 
neglects  his  more  important  duties,  and  what  he  owes 
to  his  people's  happiness,  to  give  himself  up  to  an  em- 
ployment which  wastes  his  time  and  mental  energy 
ineffectually. 

We  must,  however,  do  Dionysius  the  justice  to 
own,  that  he  was  never  reproached  for  letting  poetry 
interfere  to  the  prejudice  of  his  great  affairs,  or  that 
it  made  him  less  active  and  diligent  on  any  important 
occasion. 

I  have  already  said,2  that  this  prince,  in  an  interval 
of  peace,  had  sent  his  brother  Thearides  to  Olympia. 
to  dispute  the  prites  of  poetry  and  the  chariot-race  in 
his  name.  When  he  arrived  in  the  assembly,  the 
beauty  as  well  as  number  of  his  chariots, and  the  mag- 
nificence of  his  pavilion,  embroidered  with  gold  and 
silver,  attracted  the  eyes  and  admiration  of  all  the 
spectators.  The  ear  was  no  less  charmed  when  the 
poems  of  Dionysius  began  to  be  read.  He  had  cho- 
len  expressly  for  the  occasion  readers  with  sonorous,3 
musical  voices,  who  might  be  heard  far  and  distinct- 
ly, and  who  knew  how  to  give  a  just  emphasis  and 
cadence  to  the  verses  thev  repeated.  At  first  this  had 


\ihil  cst  quod  credere  de 


»    ^-.  —  rarau  l.T*l  -JIMKJ  cmiere  uu  vn 

Non  possit,  cum  laudatur  diis  a-iiua  poteBt««., 

Juvtnel. 

•  Oiod   I.  xiv.  p.  318. 
»  These  render*  were  called  T»-;»ri«/ 
Vol     1—57 


a  very  happy  effect,  and  the  whole  audience  •were  de 
ceived  bv  the  art  and  sweetness  of  the  pronunciation 
But  that  charm  was  soon  at  an  end,  and  the  mind  not 
I'liiu  -lanced  by  the  ears.  The  verses  then  appeared 
in  their  absurdity.  The  audience  were  ashamed  of 
having  applauded  them,  and  their  praise  was  turned 
into  laughter,  scorn,  and  insult.  Their  contempt  and 
indignation  rose  to  such  a  pitch,  that  they  tore  Dio- 
n\  -n.-  -  rich  pavilion  in  pieces.  I.vsias,  the  celt  bra  ted 
orator,  who  was  come  to  the  Olympic  games  to  dis- 
pute the  prize  of  eloquence,  which  he  had  carried  se- 
veral times  before,  undertook  to  prove,  that  it  was 
inconsistent  with  the  honour  of  Greece,  the  fiu  nd  and 
asserter  of  liberty,  to  admit  an  impious  tyrant  to  share 
in  the  celebration  of  the  sacred  games,  who  had  no 
other  thoughts  than  of  subjecting  all  Greect  to  his 
power.  Dionysius  was  not  affronted  in  that  manner 
then;  hut  the  event  proved  as  little  in  his  faxour. 
His  chariots  having  entered  the  lists,  were  all  of  tin  in 
either  carried  out  of  the  course  by  n  headlong  impe- 
tuosity, or  dashed  in  pieces  against  one  another.  And 
to  complt  to  the  misfortune,  the  galley  which  was 
bringing  back  the  persons  Dionysius  had  sent  to  the 
games,  nu  t  with  a  violent  storm,  and  did  not  return 
to  Syracu»e  without  great  difficulty.  When  the  pi- 
Ints  arrived  there,  out  of  hatred  mid  contempt  for  the 
tyrant,  they  reported  throughout  the  city,  that  it  wns 
his  vile  poems  which  had  occasioned  so  many  misfor- 
tunes to  the  readers,  racers,  and  even  the  ship  itself. 
This  had  success  did  not  at  all  discourage  Dionysius, 
nor  make  him  abate  in  the  least  the  nigh  opinion 
which  he  entertained  of  his  poetic  vein.  Theflatttr 
ers,  who  abounded  in  his  court,  did  not  fail  to  insinu- 
ate, that  such  injurious  treatment  of  his  poems  could 
proceed  only  from  envy,  which  always  fastens  upon 
what  is  most  excellent;  and  that  sooner  or  later,  the 
invidious  themselves  would  be  compiled  by  demon- 
stration to  do  justice  to  his  merit,  and  acknowledge 
his  superiority  to.  all  other  poets. 

The  infatuation  of  Dionysius  on  this  subject  was  in- 
conceivable.* He  was  undoubtedly  a  great  warrior, 
and  an  excellent  captain:  but  he  fancied  himself  a 
much  better  poet,  and  believed  that  his  verses  were  a 
far  greater  honour  to  him  than  all  his  victories.  To 
endeavour  to  undeceive  him  in  an  opinion  so  favoura 
ble  to  himself,  to  say  nothing  of  the  absolute  hope 
lessness  of  the  attempt,  would  have  been  an  ill  way 
of  making  court  to  him;  so  that  all  the  learned  men 
and  poets,  who  ate  at  his  table  in  great  numbers 
seemed  to  he  in  an  ecstacy  of  admiration  whenever  he 
read  them  hi?  poems.  Never,  according  to  them,  was 
any  thing  comparable  to  them:  all  was  great,  all  no- 
ble in  his  poetry:  all  was  majestic,  or,  to  speak  more 
properly,  all  divine. 

Philoxenus  was  the  only  one  of  all  the  tribe  who 
did  not  suffer  himself  to  be  hurried  away  by  this  tor 
rent  of  excessive  praise  and  flattery.  He  was  a  man 
of  great  reputation,  and  excelled  in  Dithyrambic  poe- 
try. There  is  a  story  told  of  him,  which  La  Fontaine 
has  known  how  to  apply  admirably.  Being  at  table 
with  Dionysius,  and  see'ing  a  very  small  fish  set  be- 
fore him,  a'ud  a  huge  one  before  the  king,  the  whim 
took  him,  to  lay  his  ear  close  to  the  little  fish.  He 
was  asked  what  he  meant  by  that  pleasantry :  "  1  wat 
inquiring,"  said  he,  "  into  some  affairs  that  happened 
in  the  reign  of  Nereus,  but  this  young  native  of  the 
floods  can  give  me  no  information:  yours  is  elder, 
and  without  doubt  knows  something  of  the  matter." 

Dionysius  having  read  one  day  some  of  his  verse* 
to  Philoxenus,  and  having  pressed  him  to  give  him 
hi*  opinion  of  them,  he  answered  with  entire  freedom, 
and  told  him  plainly  his  real  sentiments.  Dioiiysiu*, 
who  was  not  accustomed  to  such  language,  was  ex- 
tremely offended,  and  ascribing  his  boldness  to  envy, 
gave  orders  to  carry  him  to  the  quarries;  the  com- 
mon jail  bein£  so  called.  The  whole  court  was  af- 
flicted upon  this  account,  and  solicited  for  the  gene- 
rous prisoner,  whose  release  they  obtained.  He  wa» 
enlarged  the  next  day  and  restored  to  favour. 

At  the  entertainme'nt  made  that  day  by  Dionyslul 
for  the  same  guests,  which  was  a  kind  of  ratification 


«  Oiod.  I.  XT.  p.  331. 
2K2 


450 


HISTORY  OF 


of  tlie  pardon,  and  at  which  they  were  for  that  reason 
more  than  usually  gay  and  cheerful;  after  they  had 
plentifully  regaled  a  great  while,  the  prince  did  not 
fail  to  introduce  his  poems  into  the  conversation, 
which  were  the  most  frequent  subject  of  it.  He  chose 
some  passages  which  he  had  taken  extraordinary 
pains  in  composing,  and  conceived  to  be  master- 
liieo-s,  as  was  very  discernible  from  the  self-satisfac- 
.ion  and  complacency  he  expressed  whilst  they  were 
reading.  But  his  delight  could  not  be  perfect  without 
Philoxenus's  approbation,  upon  which  he  set  the 
greater  value,  as  it  was  not  his  custom  to  be  so  pro- 
fuse of  it  as  the  rest.  What  had  passed  the  evening 
before  was  a  sufficient  lesson  for  the  poet.  When 
Dionysius  asked  his  opinion  of  the  verses,  Philoxenus 
made  no  answer,  but  turning  towards  the  guards,  who 
stood  round  the  table,  he  said  in  a  serious,  though  hu- 
morous tone,  without  any  emotion,  ''  Carry  me  back 
to  the  quarries."  The  prince  comprehended  all  the 
sail  and  spirit  of  that  ingenious  pleasantry ,  without 
being  offended.1  The  sprightliness  of  the  conceit 
atoned  for  its  freedom,  which  at  another  time  would 
have  touched  him  to  the  quick,  and  made  him  exces- 
sively angry.  He  only  laughed  at  it  now,  and  was 
not  displeased  with  the  poet. 

He  did  not  act  in  the  same  way  upon  occasion  of  a 
cross  jest  of  Antiphon's,  which  was  indeed  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind,  and  was  the  result  of  a  violent  and  brutal 
disposition.  The  prince  in  conversation  asked,  which 
was  the  best  kind  of  brass.  After  the  company  had 
given  their  opinions,  Antiphon  said,  that  was  the  best 
of  which  the  statues  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton 
were  made.*  This  witty  expression,3  if  it  may  be 
called  so,  cost  him  his  life. 

The  friends  of  Philoxenus,  apprehending  that  his 
too  great  frankness  might  be  also  attended  with  fatal 
consequences,  represented  to  him  in  the  most  serious 
manner,  that  those  who  live  with  princes  must  speak 
their  language;  that  they  wish  to  have  nothing  said 
to  them  but  what  is  agreeable;  that  whoever  does 
not  know  how  to  dissemble,  is  not  qualified  for  a  court, 
that  the  favours  and  liberalities  which  Dionysiuscon- 
tinually  bestowed  upon  them,  well  deserved  the  re- 
turn of"  some  little  complaisance;  that,  in  a  word,  with 
his  blunt  freedom  and  plain  truth,  he  was  in  danger 
of  losing  not  only  his  fortune  but  his  life.  Philoxe- 
nus told  them,  that  he  would  profit  by  their  good 
advice,  and  for  the  future  give  such  a  turn  to  his  an- 
twerg  as  should  satisfy  Dionysius  without  injuring 
truth. 

Accordingly,  some  time  after,  Dionysiui  having 
read  a  piece  of  his  composing  upon  a  very  mournful 
•ubject,  wherein  he  was  to  move  compassion  and  draw 
tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  audience,  he  addressed 
himself  again  to  Philoxemu,  and  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  his  verses.  Philoxenus  gave  him  for  an- 
swer one  word,*  which  in  the  Greek  language  has 
two  different  significations.  In  one  of  them  it  im- 
plies mournful,  moving  thing*,  such  as  inspire  senti- 
ments of  pity  and  compassion:  in  the  other,  it  express- 
es something  very  mean,  defective,  pitiful,  and  mise- 
rable. Dionj-sim,  who  wag  fond  of  his  verges,  and  be- 
lieved that  every  body  must  have  the  game  good  opin- 
ion of  them,  took  that  word  in  the  favourable  con- 
struction, and  wag  extremely  satisfied  with  Philoxe- 
nus, the  rest  of  the  company  were  not  mistaken,  but 
understood  it  in  the  right  tense,  though  without  ex- 
plaining themselves. 

Nothing  could  cure  hi«  folly  for  versification.  It 
appears  from  Diodorus  Siculus,*  that  having  sent  gome 
of  hig  poems  a  second  time  to  Olvmpia,  they  were 
treated  with  the  same  ridicule  and  contempt  ns  before. 
That  news,  which  could  not  be  kept  from  him,  threw 
him  into  an  exceg*  of  melancholy,  which  he  could  ne- 
ver get  over,  and  turned  soon  after  into  a  kind  of  mad- 
negs  and  frenzy.  He  complained  that  envy  and  jea- 


I  Tttt  plv  Jii  T^r  iv Tf nirixiar  T«»  A.jj-w» /»«.J<i<r«{  o 
<»»i*«-iO(,  r.vif-*l  Tflr  T«f^cf»»  TOi  yi^^-rcc  Tljr  fll/f^tt 
ju6k.uv«vroc. 

»  They  had  delivered  A  them  front  the  tyranny  of  the  Pi- 
trafirltt. 

•  Plut.  Moral,  p.  78.  et  833.  «  oi«rf  i. 

•  Page  332 


lousy,  the  certain  enemies  of  true  merit,  werealwayi 
unking  war  upon  him,  and  that  all  the  world  con 
spired  to  ruin  his  reputation.  He  accused  his  best 
friends  of  having  engaged  in  the  same  design;  some 
of  whom  he  put  to  death,  and  others  he  banished; 
amongst  whom  were  Leptines  his  brother,  nnd  Philis- 
tus,  who  had  done  him  such  great  services,  and  to 
whom  he  was  indebted  for  his  power.  They  retired 
to  Thurium  in  Italy,  from  whence  tliev  were  recalled 
some  time  after,  and  reinstated  in  nlf  their  fortune* 
and  former  favour;  Leptines  even  maine.d  Dionyslus's 
daughter.  . 

To  remove  this  melancholy  occasioned  by  the  ill 
success  of  his  verses,6  it  was  necessary  t&  find  some 
employment;  and  with  this  his  wars  and  building* 
supplied  him.  He  had  formed  a  design  of  establish- 
ing powerful  colonies  in  that  part  of  Italy  which  is 
situate  upon  the  Adriatic  gea  facing  Kpirus;  in  order 
that  his  fleet  might  not  want  a  secure  retreat,  when  he 
should  employ  his  forces  on  that  side;  and  with  this 
view  he  made  an  alliance  with  the  Illyrians;  and  re- 
stored Alcetes,  king  of  the  Molossians,  to  his  throne. 
His  principal  design  was  to  attack  Epirus,  and  to  make 
himself  master  of  the  immense  treasures  which  had 
been  for  many  ages  amassing  in  the  temple  of  Delphi 
Before  he  could  set  this  project  on  foot,  which  re 
quired  great  preparations,  he  seemed  to  wish  to  make 
an  essay  of  his  abilities,  by  another  of  the  same  kind, 
though  of  much  more  easy  execution.  Having  made 
a  sudden  irruption  into  Tuscan}',  under  the  pretence 
of  pursuing  pirates,  he  plundered  a  very  rich  temple 
in  the  suburbs  of  Agylla,  a  city  of  thakcountry,  and 
carried  away  a  sum  exceeding  4,500,000  livres.'7  He 
had  occasion  for  money  to  support  his  great  expen- 
ses at  Syracuse,  as  well  in  fortifying  the  port,  and  ma- 
king it  capable  of  receiving  200  galleys,  as  in  enclo- 
sing the  whole  city  with  good  walls,  erecting  magni- 
ficent temples,  and  building  a  place  of  exercise  upon 
the  banks  of  the  river  Anapus. 

At  the  same  time  he  formed  the  design  of  driving 
the.  Carthaginians  entirely  out  of  Sicily.8  A  first  vic- 
tory which  he  gained,  put  him  almost  into  a  condition 
to  accomplish  his  project;  but  the  loss  of  a  second  bat- 
tle, in  which  his  brother  Leptines  was  killed,  put  an 
end  to  his  hopes,  and  obliged  him  to  enter  into  a  trea- 
ty, by  which  he  gave  up  several  towns  to  the  Cartha- 
ginians, and  paid  them  great  sums  of  money  to  reim- 
burse their  expenses  in  the  war.  An  attempt  which 
he  made  upon  them  some  years  after,  taking  advantage 
of  the  desolation  occasioned  by  the  plague  at  Car- 
thage, had  no  better  success. 

Another  victory  of  a  very  different  kind,9  though  one 
which  he  had  no  less  at  heart,  made  him  amends,  or 
at  least  comforted  him,  for  the  ill  success  of  his  arms. 
He  had  caused  a  tragedy  of  his  to  be  represented  at 
Athens,  for  the  prize  in  the  celebrated  feast  of  Bac- 
chus, and  was  declared  victor.  Such  a  victory  among 
the  Athenians,  who  were  the  best  judges  of  this  kind 
of  literature,  seems  to  indicate,  that  the  poetry  of  Di- 
onysius was  not  so  mean  and  pitiful;  and  it  is  very 
possible  that  the  aversion  of  the  Greeks  for  every 
thing  which  came  from  a  tyrant,  had  a  great  share  in 
the  contemptuous  sentence  passed  upon  his  poems  in 
the  Olympic  games.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Dionysius  re- 
ceived the  news  with  inexpressible  transports  of  joy. 
Public  thanksgivings  were  made  to  the  gods,  the  tem- 
ples being  scarce  capable  of  containing  the  concourse 
of  the  people.  Nothing  was  seen  throughout  the  city 
but  feasting  and  rejoicing;  and  Dionysius  regaled  aU 
his  friends  with  the  most  extraordinary  magnificence. 
Self-satisfied  to  a  degree  that  cannot  be  described, 
he  believed  himself  at  the  summit  of  glory,  and  did 
the  honours  of  hig  table  with  a  gay  ety  and  ease,  and  at 
the  same  time  with  a  grace  and  dignity,  that  charmed 
all  the  world.  He  invited  his  guestg  to  eat  and  drink 
more  by  his  example  than  expressions,  and  carried  hit 
civilities  of  that  kind  to  such  an  excess,  that  at  the 
close  of  the  banquet  he  was  seized  with  violent  pain% 


•  Diod.  1.  xv.  p.  336,  337. 

'  Fifteen  hundred  talent*,  or  about.  200,00');.  sterling, 

•  See  the  history  of  the  Carthaginian*. 

•  Diod.  p.  384,  385. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  ELDER. 


451 


accasionei  by  an  indigestion,  of  which  it  was  not  dif- 
ficult to  foresee  the  consequence*. 

Dionysius  had  three  children  by  his  wife  Doris,' 
and  lour  by  Aristomache,  of  which  two  were  daugh- 
ters, the  one  named  Sophrosyne,  the  other  Arete. 
Sophrosyne  was  married  to  his  eldest  son,  Dionysius 
the  younger,  whom  he  had  by  his  Locrian  wife;  and 
Arete  espoused  her  brother  Theorides.  But  Theo- 
rides  dying  soon,  Dion  married  his  widow  Arete,  who 
ivas  hi"  own  niece. 

As  Dionysius's  distemper  left  no  hopes  of  his  life, 
Dion  undertook  to  speak  to  him  concerning  his  chil- 
dren by  Aristoniache,  who  were  at  the  same  time  his 
brothers-in-law  and  nephews,  and  to  insinuate  to  him, 
that  it  WHS  just  to  prefer  the  issue  of  his  Syracusan 
Wile  to  that  of  a  stranger.  But  the  physicians,  desi- 
rous of  making  their  court  to  young  Dionysius,  the 
Locrian's  son,  for  whom  the  throne  was  intended,  did 
not  give  him  an  opportunity;  for  Dionysius  having 
demanded  a  medicine  to  make  him  sleep,  they  gave 
him  so  strong  a  dose  as  quite  stupiued  him,  and  laid 
him  in  a  sleep  that  lusted  him  fur  the  rest  of  his  life. 
He  had  reigned  thirty-eight  years. 

He  was  certainly  a  prince  of  very  great  politics! 
and  military  abilities,  and  had  occasion  for  them  all 
to  r»i»e  himself  as  he  did  from  a  mean  condition  to 
so  high  a  rank.  Alter  having  held  the  sovereignty 
thirty -eight  years,  he  transmitted  it  peaceably  to  a 
successor  of  his  own  issue  and  elrction;  and  had  es- 
tablished his  power  upon  such  solid  foundations,  that 
his  son,  notwithstanding  his  slender  capacity  for  go- 
verning, retained  it  twelve  years;  all  which  could 
not  have  been  (-fleeted  without  a  great  fund  of  merit. 
But  what  qualities  could  cover  the  vices  which  ren- 
dered him  the  object  of  his  subjects'  abhorrence?  His 
ambition  knew  neither  law  nor  limit;  his  avarice 
spared  nothing,  not  even  the  most  sacred  places;  his 
cruelty  had  no  regard  to  the  nearest  relations;  and 
his  open  and  professed  impiety  acknowledged  the  Di- 
vinity only  to  insult  him. 

As  he  was  returning  to  Syracuse  with  a  very  fa- 
vourable wind  after  plundering  the  temple  of  Proser- 
pine at  Locris,  "  See,"  said  he  to  his  friends  with  a 
uiiile  of  contempt,  "  how  the  immortal  gods  favour 
the  navigation  of  the  sacrilegious." 

Having  occasion  for  money  to  carry  on  the  war 
against  the  Carthaginians,2  he  rifled  the  temple  of 
Jupiter,  and  took  from  that  god  a  robe  of  solid  gold, 
which  ornament  Hiero  the  tyrant  had  given  him  out 
of  the  spoils  of  the  Carthaginians.  He  even  jested 
upon  that  occasion,  saying,  that  a  robe  of  gold  wa« 
much  too  heavy  in  summer,  and  too  cold  in  winter: 
and  at  the  same  time  ordered  one  of  wool  to  be 
thrown  over  the  god's  shoulders;  adding,  that  such 
a  habit  would  be  commodious  in  all  seasons. 

Another  time  he  ordered  the  golden  beard  of  jEt>- 
eulapius  of  Epidaurus  to  be  taken  off;  giving  for  his 
reason,  that  it  was  very  inconsistent  for  the  ton  to 
have  a  beard,*  when  the  father  had  none. 

He  caused  all  the  tables  of  silver  to  be  taken  out 
of  the  temples;  and  as  there  was  inscribed  upon 
them. according  to  the  custom  of  the  Greeks,  To  THE 
GOOD  GODS;  he  would  (he  said)  take  the  benefit  of 
their  GOODNESS. 

As  for  less  prizes,  such  as  cups  and  crowns  of  gold, 
which  the  statues  held  in  their  hands,  those  he  carried 
off,  without  any  ceremony;  saying,  it  was  not  taking, 
but  merely  receiving  them;  and  that  it  was  idle  and 
ridiculous  to  ask  the  gods  perpetually  for  good  things, 
and  to  refu«e  them  when  they  held  out  their  hands 
themselves  to  present  them  to  you.  These  spoils 
were  carried  by  his  order  to  the  market  and  sold  by- 
public  sale:  anil  when  he  had  got  the  money  for  them, 
he  ordered  proclamation  to  be  made,  that  whoever 
bad  in  their  custody  an}-  things  taken  out  of  sarred 
places,  were  to  restore  them  entire,  within  a  limited 
time,  to  the  temples  from  whence  they  were  brought; 
adding  in  this  manner  to  his  impiety  to  the  gods,  in- 
justice to  man. 

i  Plui.  in  Dion.  p.  960. 

•  Cic.  de  nHt.  deor.  I.  xv.  n.  P3.  84. 

*  Apollo  wai  rcprerented  without  a  beard. 


The  amazing  precaution*  that  Dionjsius  thought 
necessary  to  secure  his  life,  show  td  what  anxiety  and 
apprehension  he  was  abandoned.  He  wore  under  hn 
robe  a  cuirass  of  brass.*  He  never  harangued  the 
people  but  from  the  top  of  a  high  tower;  and  thought 
he  made  himself  invulnerable  by  being  inaccessible. 
Not  daring  to  confide  in  any  of  his  friends  or  rela- 
tions, his  guard  was  composed  of  slaves  and  stranger*. 
He  went  abroad  as  little  as  possible;  fear  obliging 
him  to  condemn  himself  to  a  kind  of  imprisonment. 
These  extraordinary  precautions  are  to  be  referred 
without  doubt  to  certain  periods  of  his  reign,  when 
frequent  conspiracies  against  him  rendered  him  more 
timid  and  suspicious  than  usual;  forat  other  times  we 
have  seen  that  he  conversed  freely  enough  with  the 
people,  and  was  accessible  even  to  familiarity.  In 
those  dark  daysol  distrust  and  fear,  he  fancied  he  saw 
all  mankind  in  arms  against  him.  An  expression 
which  escaped  his  btrber,*  who  boasted,  by  way  of 
jest,  that  he  held  a  razor  at  the  tyrants  throat  every 
week,  cost  him  his  lite.  From  thenceforth,  not  to 
abandon  his  life  and  head  to  the  hands  of  a  barber, 
he  made  his  daughters,  though  very  young,  do  him 
that  despicable  office:  aud  when  they  were  more  ad- 
vanced in  years,  he  took  the  scissors  and  razor*  front 
them,  and  taught  them  to  singe  off  his  beard  with 
walnut-shells.  He  was  at  last  reduced  to  do  himself 
that  office,8  not  daring,  it  seems,  to  trust  his  own 
daughters  any  longer.  He  never  went  into  the  cham- 
ber of  his  wives  at  night,  till  they  had  been  first 
searched  with  the  utmost  care  and  circumspection. 
His  bed  was  surrounded  with  a  very  broad  and  deep 
trench,  with  a  small  drawbridge  over  it  for  the  en- 
trance. After  having  well  locked  and  bolted  the 
doors  of  his  apartment,  he  drew  up  the  bridge,  that 
he  might  sleep  in  security.  Neither  his  biother,* 
nor  even  his  sons,  could  be  admitted  into  his  cham- 
ber, without  first  changing  their  clothes,  and  being 
visited  by  the  guards.  Can  he  be  said  to  reign,  ran 
he  be  said  to  live,  who  passes  his  day*  in  such  con- 
tinual distrust  and  terror? 

In  the  midst  of  all  his  greatness,  possessed  of 
riches,  and  surrounded  with  pleasures  of  every  kind, 
during  a  reign  of  almost  forty  years,  notwithstanding 
all  his  presents  and  profusion,  he  never  was  capable 
of  making  a  single  friend.  He  passed  his  life  with 
none  but  trembling  slaves  and  sordid  flatterers;  and 
never  tasted  the  joy  of  loving,  or  of  being  beloved, 
nor  the  charms  of  social  intercourse  and  reciprocal 
confidence.  This  he  ingenuously  owned  himself 
upon  an  occasion  not  unworthy  of  being  related. 

Damon  and  Pythias  had  both  been  educated  in  the 
principles  of  the  Pythagorean  philosophy,'  and  were 
united  to  each  other  in  the  strictest  ties  erf  friend- 
ship, which  they  had  mutually  sworn  to  observe  with 
inviolable  fidelity.  Their  faith  was  put  to  a  severe 
trial.  One  of  them  being  condemned  to  die  by  the 
tyrant,  petitioned  for  permission  to  make  a  journey 
into  his  own  country,  to  settle  hit  affairs,  promising 
to  return  at  a  fixed  time,  the  other  generously  offer- 
ing to  be  his  security.  The  courtiers,  and  Dionyiui 
in  particular,  expected  with  impatience  the  event  of 
so  delicate  and  extraordinary  an  adventure.  The 
day  fixed  for  his  return  drawing  nigh,  and  he  not  ap- 
pearing, every  body  began  to  blame  the  rash  and  im- 
prudent zeal  of  his  friend  who  had  bound  himself  in 
such  a  manner.  But  he,  fur  from  expressing  any  fear 
or  concern,  replied  with  a  tranquil  air,  and  confident 
tone,  that  he  was  sure  his  frirnd  would  return  ;  a*  he 
accordingly  did  upon  the  day  and  hoar  agreed.  The 
tyrant,  struck  with  admiration  at  so  uncommon  an 
instance  of  fidelity,  and  softened  with  the  view  ot  io 
amiable  a  union,  granted  him  his  life,  and  desired  to 
be  admitted  a«  a  third  person  into  their  friendship. 

He  expressed  witheqoRi  ingenuousness  on  another 
occasion  what  he  himself  thought  of  his  condition.' 
One  of  his  courtiers  named  Damocles  was  perpetual- 


1   *  Cic.  Tutc.  Quasi  I.  v.  D.  57.  63. 

•  Plut  dp  Garrul.  p.  506. 

•  fir.  de  Offic.  I.  ii   n.  55. 
i  Plut    in  Dion.  p. 961. 

•  Cir.  dp  Offic.  I.  iii.  n.  43.    V«l.  Max.  L  i».  •.  *, 

•  Cic.  Tuic.  duiest.  1.  v.  n.  Cl,  62. 


452 


HISTORY  OF 


j-  extolling  with  rapture  his  treasures,  grandeur,  the 
miinbt  T  of  hi*  troops,  the  extent  of  his  dominions,  the 
magnificence  of  his  palaces,  and  the  jmversal  abun- 
dance ot  all  good  things  and  enjoyments  in  his  pos- 
ies-ion, alwava  repeating,  that  never  man  was  happier 
than  Dionysiua.  "Since  you  are  of  that  opinion,"  said 
the  tyrant  to  him  one  day,  "  will  you  taste  anil  make 
proof  of  my  (elicit}1  in  person?"  The  offer  was  accept- 
ed with  joy?  Damocles  was  placed  upon  a  golden 
couch,  covered  with  carpets  richly  embroidered.  The 
side-boards  were  loaded  with  vessels  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver. The  most  beautiful  slaves  in  the  most  splendid 
habits,  stood  ground,  ready  to  serve  him  at  the  slight- 
est signal.  The  most  exquisite  essences  and  perfumes 
had  not  been  spared.  The  table  was  spread  with 
proportionate  magnificence.  Damocles  was  all  joy, 
and  looked  upon  himself  as  the  happiest  man  in  the 
world  ;  when  unfortunately  casting  up  his  eyes,  he  be- 
held over  his  head  the  point  of  a  sword,  which  hung 
from  the  roof  only  by  a  single  horse-hair.  He  was 
immediately  seized  with  acold  sweat;  every  thing  dis- 
appeared in  an  instant:  he  could  see  nothing  but  the 
§word,  nor  think  of  any  thing  but  his  danger.  In  the 
height  of  his  fear  he  desired  permission  to  retire,  and 
declared  he  would  be  happy  no  longer.  A  very  na- 
tural image  of  the  life  of  a  tyrant.  He  of  whom  we 
are  speaking,  reigned  as  1  have  observed  before,  thir- 
ty-eight years. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SECTION  I. — DIONYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER  SUCCEEDS 
HIS  FATHER.  DION  ENGAGES  HIM  TO  INVITE 
PI.ATO  TO  HIS  COURT.  SURPRISING  ALTERATION 
OCCASIONED  BY  HIS  PRESENCE.  CONSPIRACY  OF 
THE  COURTIERS  TO  PREVENT  THE  EFFECTS  OF  IT. 

DioifYsiUS  the  elder  was  succeed- 
A.  M.  3632.  ed  by  one  of  his  sons  of  his  own 
Ant.  J.  C.  372.  name,1  commonly  called  Dionysius 
the  Younger.  Alter  his  father's  fu- 
neral had  been  solemnized  with  the  utmost  magni- 
ficence, he  assembled  the  people,  and  desired  they 
would  have  the  same  good  inclinations  for  him  at  they 
had  evinced  for  his  lather.  They  were  very  differ- 
ent from  each  other  in  their  character.  For  the  lat- 
ter was  as  peaceable  and  calm  in  his  disposition,'  as 
the  former  was  active  and  enterprising;  which  would 
have  been  no  disadvantage  to  his  people,  had  that 
mild riess  and  moderation  been  the  effect  of  a  wise  and 
judicious  understanding,  and  not  of  natural  sloth  and 
indolence  of  temper. 

It  is  surprising  to  see  Dionysius  the  younger  take 
quiet  possession  of  the  tyranny  after  the  death  of  his 
father,  as  a  patrimonial  inheritance,  notwithstanding 
the  natural  fondness  of  the  Syracusans  for  liberty, 
which  could  not  but  revive  upon  so  favourable  an  occa- 
sion, and  the  weakness  of  a  young  prince  undistin- 
guished by  his  merit  and  void  of  experience.  It 
teemed  as  ff  the  last  years  of  the  elder  Dionysius,  who 
had  applied  hirnself"  towards  the  close  of  his  life  in 
making  his  subjects  taste  the  advantages  of  his  go- 
vernment, had  in  some  measure  reconciled  them  to 
tyranny;  especially  after  his  exploits  by  sea  and  land 
had  acquired  him  a  great  reputation,  and  infinitely  ex- 
alted the  glory  of  the  Syracusan  power,  which  he  had 
found  means  to  render  formidable  to  Carthage  itself, 
as  well  as  to  the  most  potent  states  of  Greece  and  Ita- 
ly Besides  which  it  was  to  be  feared,  that  should 
they  attempt  a  change  in  the  government,  the  sad 
ron-sequences  of  a  civil  war  might  deprive  them  of  all 
those  advantage*:  whereas  the  gentle  and  humane 
disposition  of  young  Dionysius  gave  them  reason  to 
entertain  the  most  favourable  hopes  with  regard  to 
the  future.  He  therefore  peaceably  ascended  his  fa- 
ther's throne. 

Something  of  this  kind  has  been  seen  in  England. 
The  famous  Cromwell  died  in  his  bed  with  as  much 
tranquillity  as  the  best  of  princes,  and  was  interred 
with  the  same  honours  and  pomp  as  a  lawful  sove- 


i  Diod.  I.  XT.  p.  385. 


•  Id  1  xri.  p.  410. 


reign.  Richard  his  son  succeeded  him  as  protei  tor, 
and  lor  some  time  possessed  equal  authority  with  hij 
father,  though  he  had  not  any  of  his  grtat  qualities. 

Dion,8  the  bravest  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
prudent  of  the  Syracusans,  who  was  Dionysius's  bro- 
ther-in-law, might  have  been  of  great  support  to  him 
had  he  known  how  to  profit  by  his  advice.  In  the 
first  assembly  held  by  Dionysius  and  all  his  friends 
Dion  spoke  in  so  wise  a  manner  upon  what  w;is  ne 
cessary  and  expedient  in  the  present  conjuncture,  as 
showed  that  the  rest  were  infants  in  judgement  in 
comparison  with  him,  and  in  regard  to  a  just  bold- 
n^ss  and  freedom  ot  speech,  were  no  more  tlinn  de- 
spicable siaves  ot  the  tyranny, solelv  employed  in  the 
abject  e»t!cr.vour  of  pleasing  the  prince.  Hut  what 
surprised  and  amazed  them  most  was  that  Dion,  at  a 
time  when  the  whole  court  w?.s  struck  with  terror  at 
the  prospect  of  the  storm  already  formed  on  the  side 
ofCarthage  and  just  ready  to  break  upon  Sicily, should 
insist,  that  if  Dioinsius  desired  peace,  he  woulc1 
embark  immediately  for  Africa,  and  dispel  this  tern 
pest  to  his  satisfaction;  or  if  he  preferred  making  war 
that  he  would  furnish  and  maintain  at  his  own  expense 
fifty  galleys  of  three  benches  completely  equipped  for 
service. 

Dionysius  admiring  and  extolling  so  generous  a 
magnanimity  to  the  skies,  professed  the  highest  gra- 
titude to  him  for  his  zeal  and  affection ;  but  the  cour- 
tiers, who  looked  upon  Dion's  mngniliccnce  as  a  re- 
proach to  themselves,  and  his  great  power  a?  a  les- 
sening of  their  own,  took  immediate  occasion  from 
thence  to  calumniate  him,  and  spared  no  expressions 
that  might  inlluence  the  young  prince  against  him. 
They  insinuated,  that  in  making  himself  strong  * 
sea.  he  would  open  his  way  to  the  tyranny;  and  tha 
with  his  vessels  he  designed  to  transfer  the  sovereign 
ty  to  his  nephews,  the  sons  of  Aristomache. 

But  what  put  them  most  out  of  humour  with  Dion, 
was  his  mannrr  of  life,  which  was  a  continual  censurj 
of  their  own.  For  these  courtiers,  having  presently 
insinuated  themselves  into  the  good  graces  of  th< 
voung  tyrant,  who  had  been  wretchedly  educated 
thought  ot  nothing  but  of  supplying  him  perpetualli 
with  new  amusements,  keeping  him  always  employe! 
in  feasting,  abandoned  to  women,  and  devoted  to  al 
manner  of  shameful  pleasures.  In  the  beginning  ,ot 
his  reign  he  made  a  riotous  entertainment,'*  which  con 
tinned  for  three  entire  months,  during  all  which  time 
his  palace,  shut  against  all  persons  of  sense  and  rea- 
son, was  crowded  with  drunkards,  and  resounded 
with  nothing  but  low  buffoonry,  obscene  jests,  lewd 
songs,  (lances,  masquerades,  and  every  kind  o I  gross 
and  dissolute  extravagance.  It  is  therefore  natural 
to  believe,  that  nothing  Ci  uld  be  more  offensive  and 
disgusting  to  them  than  i.he  presence  of  Dion,  who 
gave  in  to  none  of  these  pleasures.  For  which  rea- 
son, painting  hi*  virtues  in  such  of  the  colours  of  vic» 
as  were  most  likely  to  disguise  them,  they  found 
means  to  calumniate  him  with  the  prince,  and  to  make 
his  gravity  pass  for^  arrog.ance,  and  his  freedom  of 
speech  for  insolence  and  sedition.  If  he  advanced 
any  wise  counsel,  thny  treated  him  as  a  sour  peda- 
gogue, who  took  upon  him  to  obtrude  his  lectures, 
and  to  school  his  prince,  without  being  asked;  and 
if  he  refused  to  share  in  the  revels  with  the  rest  thejr 
called  him  a  man-hater,  a  splenetic,  melancholy 
wretch,  who  from  the  fantastic  height  of  virtue  look- 
ed down  with  contempt  on  the  rest  of  the  world,  and 
set  himself  up  for  the  censor  of  mankind. 

And  indeed  it  must  be  confessed,  that  he  had  na- 
turally something  austere  and  rigid  in  his  manners 
and  behaviour,  which  seemed  to  denote  a  haughtiness 
of  disposition,  very  capable  not  only  of  disgusting  a 
young  prince,  nurtured  from  his  infancy  amidst  (lat- 
teries and  submission,  but  even  his  best  friends,  and 
those  who  were  most  closely  attached  to  him.  Full 
of  admiration  for  his  integrity,  fortitude  and  noble- 
ness of  sentiments,  they  represented  to  him,  that  for 
a  statesman,  who  ought  to  know  how  to  adapt  him- 
self to  the  different  tempers  of  men,  in  order  to  applf 

*  Plot,  in  Dion.  p.  960,  961. 
«  Athen.  1.  x.  p.  435. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER. 


453 


them  lo  his  purposes,  his  humour  was  much  too  rough 
an !  forbidding. 

Plato  afterwards  took  pains  to  correct  that  defect 
in  him,1  by  making  him  intimate  with  a  philosopher 
of  a  gay  snd  polite  turn  of  mind,  whose  conversation 
was  well  calculated  to  inspire  him  with  more  easy 
and  insinuating  manners.  He  reminds  him  also  of 
tiiat  tailing  in  a  letter,  wherein  he  thus  addresses 
him:  "  Consider,  I  beg  you,  that  you  are  censured  as 
being  dt  lira-lit  in  good  nature  and  affability;  and  im- 
print it  on  your  mind,  that  the  most  certain  nuansto 
ensure  the  success  of  affairs,  is  to  be  agreeable  to  the 
persons  with  whom  we  have  to  transact  them.  A 
haughty  carriage  keeps  people  at  a  distance,2  and  re- 
duc<-s  a  man  to  pass  his  life  in  solitude."  Notwith- 
standing this  defect,  he  continued  to  be  highly  con- 
sidered at  court  ;  where  his  superior  abilities  and 
transcendent  merit  made  him  absolutely  necessary, 
especially  at  a  time  when  the  state  was  threatened  with 
great  danger  and  commotions. 

As  he  believed,3  that  all  the  vices  of  young  Diony- 
sus uere  the  effect  of  his  bad  education  and  entire 
ignorance  of  his  duty,*  he  conceived  justly,  that  the 
fifrt  step  would  be  to  associate  him  if  possible  with 
persons  of  wit  and  sense,  whose  solid  but  agreeable 
conversation  might  at  once  instruct  and  divert  him: 
for  the  prince  did  not  naturally  want  parts  and  genius. 

The  sequel  will  show  that  Dionysius  the  younger 
had  a  natural  propensity  to  what  was  good  and  vir- 
tuous, and  a  taste  and  capacity  for  arts  and  sciences. 
He  knew  how  to  set  a  value  upon  the  merits  and  ta- 
lents by  which  men  are  distinguished.  He  delighted 
in  convening  with  persons  of  ability,  and  from  his 
correspondence  with  them,  made  himself  capable  of 
the  highest  improvements.  He  went  so  far  as  to  fa- 
miliarize the  throne  with  those  sciences  which  have 
not  usually  the  privilege  of  approaching  it;  and  bv 
rendering  them  in  a  manner  his  favourites,  he  gave 
them  courage  to  make  their  appearance  in  courts. 
His  protection  was  the  patent  of  nobility,  by  which 
he  raised  them  to  honour  and  distinction.  ]Vor  was 
he  insensible  to  the  joys  of  friendship.  In  private  he 
WHS  a  good  patent,  refation.and  master,  and  acquired 
the  ntlirtinn  of  all  that  approached  him.  He  was  not 
naturally  inclined  to  violence  or  cruelly ;  and  it  might 
be  said  of  him, that  he  was  rather  a  tyrant  by  succes- 
sion and  inheritance,  than  by  temper  and  inclination. 

All  which  demonstrates,  that  he  might  have  made 
a  verj  tolerable  prince  (not  to  say  a  good  one,)  had 
proper  care  been  early  taken  to  cultivate  the  happy 
disposition  which  he  brought  into  the  world  with 
him.  But  his  father,  to  whom  all  merit,  even  in  his 
own  children,  gave  umbrage,  industriously  suppress- 
ed in  him  all  tendency  to  goodness,  and  every  noble 
and  elevated  sentiment,  by  a  base  and  obscure  edu- 
cation, with  (he  view  of  preventing  his  attempting 
any  thing  against  himself.  It  was  therefore  necessary 
to  find  for  him  a  person  of  the  character  before  men- 
tioned, or  rather  to  inspire  him  with  the  dtslre  of 
having  such  a  one  found. 

This  wa»  what  Dion  laboured  with  wonderful  ad- 
dress. He  often  talked  to  him  of  Plato,  ag  the  most 
profound  and  illustrion*  of  philosophers,  whose  merit 
ne  himself  had  experienced,  and  to  whom  he  was 
obliged  for  all  he  knew.  He  enlarged  upon  the  bril- 
liancy of  his  genius,  the  extent  of  his  knowledge,  the 
•iniableness  of  his  character,  and  the  charms  of  his 
conversation.  He  represented  him  particularly  as 
the  man  of  all  others  most  capable  of  forming  him  in 
the  arts  of  governing,  upon  which  his  own  and  the 
people's  happiness  depended.  He  told  him,  that  his 
subjects,  governed  for  the  future  with  lenity  and  in- 
dulgence, as  a  good  father  governs  his  family,  would 
voluntarily  render  that  obedience  to  his  moderation 
•  nd  justice,  which  force  and  violence  extorted  from 
(hem  against  their  will:  and  that  by  such  a  conduct 
he  would,  from  a  tyrant,  become  a  just  kinsr,  to  whom 


»  Plat.  Epict.  iv.  p.  327,  32& 

•  H  ')'  xvizSii*  if*.*  ;•_•. :,«:,-.  M  Oarier  rcnderi  these 
words.  Pride  is  attrays  >ke  companion  of  solitude.     I  have 
shown  elwwhrrp   whprrin    lhi«  version   is   faulty.     Jirt  of 
teaching  the  Belief  Lett  ret,  vol.  iii    p.  505. 

•  PluU  in  Dion.  p.  902.       «  Plat.  Epist.  »ii.  p.  327,  328. 


all  submission  would  be  paid  out  of  affection  BOO 
gratitude. 

It  is  incredible  how  much  these  discouises,  intro- 
duced in  conversation  from  time  to  time,  as  if  by  ac- 
cident, without  affectation,  or  the  appearance  ol  an? 
premeditated  design,  inflamed  the  young  prince  with 
the  desire  of  knowing  and  conversing  with  Plato. 
He  wrote  to  him  in  the  most  importunate  and  obliging 
manner:  he  despatched  couriers  after  couriers  to 
hasten  his  voyage;  whilst  Plato,  who  apprehended 
the  consequences,  and  had  but  cnu-ll  hopes  of  any  good 
effect  from  it  protracted  the  affair,  and,  without  abso- 
lutely refusing,  sufficiently  intimated,  that  he  could 
not  resolve  upon  it,  without  doing  violence  to  him- 
self. The  obstacles  and  difficulties  made  to  the 
young  prince's  request,  were  so  tar  from  disgusting 
him,  that  they  only  served,  as  it  commonly  happens, 
to  inflame  his  desire.  The  Pythagorean  poilocophen 
of  Graecia  Magna  in  Italy  joined  their  entreaties  with 
his  and  Dion's,  who  on  his  part  redoubled  his  solici- 
tation, and  used  the  strongest  arguments  to  conquer 
Plato's  repugnance.  "  This  is  not,"  said  he,  "  the  con- 
cern of  a  private  person,  but  of  a  powerful  prince, 
whose  change  of  manners  will  have  the  same  effect 
throughout  his  whole  dominions,  with  the  extent  of 
which  you  are  not  unacquainted.  It  is  he  himself  who 
makes  all  the  advances;  who  importunes  and  solicit* 
you  to  come  to  his  assistance,  and  employs  the  inte- 
rest of  all  your  friends  lo  that  purpose.  \Vliat  more  fa- 
vourable conjuncture  could  we  expect  than  that  which 
Divine  Providence  now  offers?  Are  you  not  afraid 
that  your  delays  will  gire  the  flatterers,  who  surround 
the  young  prince,  the  opportunity  of  drawing  him 
over  to  themselves,  and  of  seducing  him  to  change 
his  resolution?  What  reproaches  would  you  not 
make  yourself,  and  what  dishonour  would  it  not  be 
to  philosophy,  should  it  ever  be  said,  that  Plato,  who 
by  his  counsels  to  Dionysius  might  have  established 
a  wise  and  equitable  government  in  Sicily,  ubrndoned 
it  to  all  the  evils  of  tyranny,  from  fear  of  undergoing 
the  fatigues  of  a  voyage,  or  from  I  know  not  what 
other  imaginary  difficulties?'.' 

Plalo  could  not  resist  such  earnest  solicitations.* 
Vanquished  by  the  consideration  of  what  was  due  to 
his  own  character,  and  to  obviate  the  reproach  of  his 
being  a  philosopher  in  words  only,  without  having 
ever  shown  himself  such  in  his  actions,  and  conscious 
besides  of  the  great  advantages  which  Sicily  might 
acquire  from  his  voyage,  he  suffered  himself  to  be 
persuaded. 

The  flatterers  at  the  court  of  Dionysius,  terrified 
with  the  resolution  which  he  had  taken  contrary  to 
their  remonstrances,  and  fearing  the  presence  of  Pla- 
to, the  consequences  of  which  they  foresaw,  united  to- 
gether against  him  a?  their  common  enemy.  They 
rightly  judged,  that  if,  according  to  the  new  maxims 
of  government,  all  things  were  to  be  measured  by  the 
standard  of  true  merit,  and  no  favour  was  to  be  ex- 
pected from  the  prince,  but  for  services  done  to  the 
state,  they  had  nothing  farther  to  expect,  and  might 
wait  their  whole  lives  at  court  to  no  manner  of  pur- 
pose. They  therefore  devised  a  plan  to  render  Pla- 
to's vnyage'ineffertual,  though  they  were  not  able  to 
prevent  it:  and  this  was  to  prevail  upon  Dionysius  to 
recall  Philistus  from  banishment,  who  was  not  only 
an  able  soldier,  but  a  great  historian,  very  eloquent 
and  learned,  and  a  zealous  assertor  of  the  tyranny. 
They  hoped  to  find  a  counterpoise  in  him  against  Pla- 
to and  his  philosophy.  Upon  his  being  banished  by 
Dion\>ius  the  elder,  on  some  personal  discontent.be 
hatl  retired  into  the  city  of  Adria,  where  it  is  believed 
he  composed  the  greatest  part  of  his  writing*.  He 
wrote  the  history  of  F.frypt  in  twelve  books,6  that  of 
Sicily  in  eleven,  and  of  Dionysius  the  tyrant  in  six ;  all 
which  works  are  entirely  lost.  Cicero  praises  him 
highly ,T  and  calls  him  a  Tittle  Thucyd ides, />(*« ;>«*«/- 


•  Hut.  p.  Of,2.  •  Diod.  I.  xiii.  p.  222. 

'  Hunr(Thucydiclpm'!coni»>ruTui<estf!yrarusiu»Philiitii», 
nui  rum  Dionysi'i  tyranni  famili«ristimu«  e**et,  otium  «u>in 
oon»ump«it  in'hi«toria  «-ribenda,  mnxime^ue  Thurydiden 
eat.dirut  mihi  videtur,  imilatm.  Cic.de  Oral  I.  u.  n.  5,. 

Sirulus  ille,  rrf>tx>r.  acut»«,  brcvin.  pen*  punllui  Tbncy 
didcs.— Id.  Epist  xiii.  ad.  Qu.frat.l.  u 


454 


HISTORY  OF 


tut  Thucydidei,  to  signify  that  he  copied  that  author, 
and  not  without  success.  He  was  therefore  recalled. 
The  courtiers  at  the  same  tune  made  complaints 
against  Dion  to  Dionysius,  accusing  him  of  having 
held  conferences  with  'Theodotus  and  Heracjide*,the 
secret  enemies  ol  that  prince,  to  concert  with  them 
measures  for  subverting  the  tyranny. 

This  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Plato  arrived  in 
Sicily.1  He  was  received  with  infinite  caresses,  and 
with  the  highest  marks  of  honour  and  respect.  Upon 
his  landing,  he  found  one  of  the  prince's  chariots, 
equally  magnificent  in  its  horses  and  ornaments,  await- 
ing him.  The  tyrant  offered  a  sacrifice,  as  if  some 
singular  instance  of  good  fortune  had  befallen  him: 
Dor  wax  he  mistaken;  for  a  wise  man  who  is  capable 
of  giving  a  prince  good  counsels,  is  a  treasure  ol  ines- 
timable value  to  a  whole  nation.  But  the  worth  of 
luch  a  person  is  rarely  known,  and  more  rarely  applied 
to  the  uses  which  might  be  made  of  it. 

Plato  found  the  most  happy  dispositions  imaginable 
in  young  Dionysius,  who  devoted  himself  entirely  to 
his  lessons  and  counsels.  But  as  he  had  himself  de- 
rived infinite  improvement  from  the  precepts  and  ex- 
amples of  Socrates  his  master,  the  most  able  man  of 
all  the  pagan  world  in  forminig  the  mind  to  relish 
truth,  he  took  care  to  adapt  himself  with  wonderful 
address  to  the  youug  tyrant's  humour,  avoiding  all 
direct  attacks  upon  his  passions;  taking  pains  to  ac- 
quire his  confidence  by  kind  and  insinuating  beha- 
viour; and  particularly  endeavouring  to  render  vir- 
tue amiable,  in  order  to  render  it  at  the  same  time 
triumphant  over  vice,  which  keeps  mankind  in  its 
chains,  by  the  sole  force  of  allurements,  pleasures, 
and  voluptuousness. 

The  change  was  sudden  and  surprising.  The  young 
prince,  who  till  then  had  abandoned  himself  to  idle- 
ness, pleasure,  and  luxury,  and  was  ignorant  of  all  the 
duties  of  his  station,  the  inevitable  consequer.ee  of  a 
dissolute  life,  awaking  as  from  a  lethargic  s'eep.  be- 
gan to  open  his  eyes,  to  have  some  idea  of  t'ie  beauty 
of  virtue,  and  to  relish  the  refined  pleasui,?s  of  con- 
versation, rq'.ia!!.-  solid  s::d  sgreeable.  He  was 
now  as  passionately  fond  of  learning  and  instruction, 
as  he  had  once  been  averse  and  repugnant  Vo  them. 
The  court,  which  always  apes  the  prince,  and  falls  in 
with  his  iuciinHiions  in  every  thing,  entered  into  the 
same  way  of  thinking.  The  apartments  of  the  pa- 
lace, like  so  many  schools  of  geometry,  were  full  of 
the  dust  made  use  of  by  the  professors  of  that  science 
in  tracing  their  figures;  and  in  a  very  short  time  the 
study  of  philosophy  and  of  every  kind  of  literature 
became  the  reigning  and  universal  taste. 

The  great  benefit  of  these  studies,  in  regard  to  a 
prince,  does  not  consist  alone  in  storing  his  mind 
with  an  infinity  of  the  most  curious,  useful,  and  often 
necessary  information,  but  has  the  farther  advantage 
of  withdrawing  him  from  idleness,  indolence,  and  the 
frivolous  amusements  of  a  court;  of  habituating  him 
to  a  life  of  application  and  reflection ;  of  inspiring  him 
with  a  desire  of  instructing  himself  in  the  duties  of 
the  sovereignty,  and  of  knowing  the  characters  of  such 
as  have  excelled  in  the  art  of  reigning;  in  a  word,  of 
making  himself  capable  of  governing  the  state  in  his 
own  person,  and  of  seeing  every  thing  with  his  own 
eyes;  that  is  to  say,  of  being  a  king  indeed.  And  this 
it  was  that  the  courtiers  and  flatterers,  as  usually 
happens,  were  unanimous  in  opposing. 

They  were  considerably  alarmed  by  an  expression 
that  escaped  Dionysius,  and  showed  how  strong  an 
impression  had  already  been  made  upon  his  mind  by 
the  discourses  he  had  heard  upon  the  happiness  of  a 
km;:,  who  is  regarded  with  tender  affection  by  his 
people  as  their  common  father,  and  the  wretched 
condition  of  a  tyrant,  whom  they  abhor  and  detest. 
Some  days  after  Plato's  arrival,  was  the  time  appoint- 
ed, for  a  solemn  sacrifice,  which  was  annually  offered 
in  the  palace  for  the  prince's  prosperity.  The  herald 
having  prayed  to  this  effect,  according  to  custom, 
''That  it  would  please  the  gods  to  support  th.e  tyran- 
ny.niid  preserve  the  tyrant;"  Dionysius,  who  was  not 
tar  from  him,  and  to  whom  these  terms  began  to  grow 

l  Flat   in  Dion.  p.  963. 


odious,  called  out  to  him  aloud,  "Will  you  not  givt 
over  cursing  me?"  Philistus  and  his  party  were  in 
finitely  alarmed  at  that  expression,  and  judged  from 
it.  that  time  and  habit  must  give  I'lato  an  invincible 
ascendant  over  Dionysius,  it  the  intercourse  of  a  lew 
days  could  so  entirely  alter  his  disposition.  They 
therefore  set  themselves  at  work  UJMJD  new  and  more 
effectual  stratagems  against  him. 

They  began  by  turning  the  retired  life  which  Dio- 
nysius was  induced  to  lead,  and  the  studies  in  which 
be  employed  himself,  into  ridicule,  as  if  it  was  intend- 
ed to  make  a  philosopher  of  him.  But  th;it  was  not 
all;  they  laboured  in  concert  to  render  the  zeal  of 
Dion  and  Plato  suspected,  and  even  odious  to  him 
They  represented  them  as  impertinent  censors  and 
imperious  pedagogues,8  who  assumed  an  authority 
over  him,  which  was  neither  consistent  with  his  age 
or  rank,  It  is  no  wonder  that  a  young  prince  like 
Dionysius,3  who,  with  the  roost  excellent  disposition, 
and  amidst  the  best  examples,  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  have  supported  himself,  should  at  length 
give  way  to  such  artful  insinuations  in  a  court  that 
had  long  been  infected,  where  there  was  no  emulatior- 
but  to  excel  in  vice,  and  where  he  was  continually 
besieged  by  a  crawf)  of  flatterer*  incessantly  praising 
and  admiring  'imi  .r  every  thing. 

But  the  pi'ncipal  ppfication  of  the  courtiers  wa* 
to  Jecry  the  charact  -  and  conduct  of  Dion  himself, 
no  longer  separately,  nor  in  secret,  but  all  together, 
anc'  in  public.  They  talked  openly,  and  to  whoever 
woi  Id  give  them  the  hearing,  that  it  was  visible  that 
Dion  made  use  of  Plato's  eloquence,  to  fascinate  and 
enchant  Dionysius,  with  design  to  draw  him  into  I 
volurtarv  resignation  of  the  throne,  that  he  might 
take  possession  of  it  for  his  nephews,  the  children  ol 
Aristomache,  and  establish  them  in  the  sovereignty 
They  publicly  observed,  that  it  was  very  morti.'yiiijj 
to  sec  >hat  the  Athenians,  who  had  formerly  invaiied 
Sicily  with  great  forces  both  by  sea  and  land,  \vhici 
had  all  perisned  there  without  Deing  able  to  tal'e  Sy 
racuse,  should  now  with  a  single  sophi**  attain  then 
point,  and  subvert  the  tyranny  of  Dionysius  by  per 
suading  him  to  dismiss  the  "l 0.000  strangers  wh3 
composed  his  guard;  to  lay  aside  his  fleet  of  400 
galleys,  which  he  alwavs  kept  in  readiness  for  ser 
vice;  and  to  disband  his  10,000  horse,  and  tht 
greatest  part  of  his  foot:  for  the  sake  of  going  to  tin*? 
in  the  Academy  (the  phce  where  Plato  taught)  » 
pretended  Supreme  Good  which  could  not  be  ex 
plained,  and  to  make  himself  happy  in  imagination 
by  the  study  of  geometry:  whilst  he  abandoned  tt> 
Dion  and  his  nephews  a  rcal  and  substantial  felicity 
consisting  in  empire,  riches,  luxury,  and  pleasure. 

SECTION    II. — BANISHMENT  or  DION.     PLAT* 

QUITS  THE  COURT  SOON  AFTER,  AND  RETURNS  I.I 
TO  GREECE.  DIO1S  AD.M1PED  THERE  1!Y  AI.LTHK 
LEARNED.  PLATO  RETURNS  TO  SYRACUSE. 

THE  courtiers,  intent  upon  taking  advantage  u* 
every  favourable  moment,  perpetually  besieged  th» 
young  prince;  and  covering  their  secret  motives  un 
"der  the  appearance  of  real  for  his  service,  and  an  a/" 
fectcd  moderation  in  regard  to  Dion,  incessantly  nd 
vised  him  to  take  proper  measures  for  the  securitj 
of  hij  life  and  throne.  Such  repeated  discourse  at 
first  r.iised  in  the  mind  of  Dionysius  violent  suspicion! 
of  Dion,  which  presently  increased  into  fierce  resent- 
ment, and  broke  out  into  an  open  rupture.  Letter* 
were  privately  brought  to  Dionysius,  written  by  Dio« 
to  the  Carthaginian  ambassadors,  wherein  he  recom- 
mended to  them,  "when  they  should  treat  of  peaca 
with  Dionysius,  not  to  open  the  conferences  but  ^> 
hN  presence;  because  he  would  assist  them  in  making 
their  treaty  more  firm  and  lasting."  Dionysius  rea? 
trie^e  letters  to  Philistus.  and  having  concerted  witb 
him  what  measures  to  take,*  he  amused  and  deceive* 
Dion  with  the  appearance  of  a  reconciliation,  and 

•  Trifles  et  supercilioaon  aliens    vii JB  censure*,  publico* 
jwrdasoEos.     Sett.  Epiit.  rxxiii. 

•  Vix  artihus  hum-mis  piulor  retinetur,  neduni  inter  rer- 
tamina  vitiorum  pmliritin.  nut  modestia.  aut  quiilquam  p^ 
bi  moris  servaretur.      Tacit.  .Innal.  1.  iv.  c.  15. 

•  Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  410.  411 


DIONYS1US  THE  YOUNGER. 


455 


tod    him   alone  to  the   sea-side   below  the   citadel,  • 
where  he  showed   him  his  letters,  and  accused  him  j 
of  having  entered  into  a  league  against  him  with  the  j 
Carthaginians.     Dion   would   have  justified   himself, 
but  he  refused  to  hear  him,  and  made  him  immedi- 
ately go  on  board  a  brigantine,  which  had  orders  to 
carry  riim  to  the  coast  ot  Italy,  and  to  leave  him  there. 
Dion  immediately  after  set  sail  for  Peloponnesus. 

So  harsh  and  unjust  a  treatment  could  not  fail  of 
making  abundance  of  noi«e,'  and  the  whole  city  de- 
clared against  it:  especiallvas  it  was  reported,  though 
without  foundation,  that  P"lato  had  been  put  to  death. 
Dionvsius,*  who  apprehended  the  consequences,  took 
pains  to  appease  the  public  discontent,  and  to  stifle 
the  complaints.  He  gave  Dion's  relations  two  vessels 
t:>  transport  to  him  in  Peloponnesus  his  riches  and 
numerous  family;  for  he  had  the  equipage  of  a  king. 

As  soon  as  Dion  was  gone,  Dionvsius  made  Plato 
change  his  lodging,  and  brought  him  into  the  citadel; 
in  appearance  to  do  him  honour,  but  in  reality  to  as- 
sure himself  of  his  person,  and  prevent  him  from 
foingto  join  Dion.  In  bringing  Plato  nearer  to  him, 
e  might  also  have  in  view  the  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing him  more  frequently  and  more  commodiously. 
For,  charmed  with  the  allurements  of  his  conversa- 
tion, and  studying  to  please  him  in  every  thing,  and 
to  merit  his  affection,  he  had  conceived  an  esteem,  or 
rather  passion  for  him,  which  rose  even  to  jealousy, 
but  a  jealousy  of  that  violence,  that  could  suffer  nei- 
ther companion  nor  rival.  He  wished  to  engross  him 
entirely  to  himself,  to  reign  solely  in  his  thoughts  and 
affections,  and  to  be  the  only  object  of  his  love  and 
esteem.  He  seemed  ready  to  give  him  all  his  trea- 
sures and  all  his  authority,  provided  he  would  but  love 
him  better  than  Dion,  and  not  prefer  the  hitter's  friend- 
ship to  his.  Plutarch  has  reason  to  call  this  passion 
a  tyrannic  affection.3  Plato  had  much  to  suffer  from 
it;  for  it  had  all  the  symptoms  of  the  most  ardent  jea- 
lou-y.  Sometimes  it  was  all  friendship,*  caresses, 
and  fond  respect,  with  an  unbounded  openness  of  heart 
and  an  endless  swell  of  tender  sentimenti:  some- 
times it  was  all  reproaches,  menaces,  fierce  passion, 
and  wild  emotion;  and  coon  after  it  sunk  into  repen- 
tance, excuses,  tears,  and  humble  entreaties  for  par- 
don and  forgiveness. 

About  this  time  a  war  broke  out  very  conveniently 
for  Plato,  which  obliged  Dionvsius  to  restore  him  his 
liberty  and  send  him  home.  At  his  departure  he 
would  have  overwhelmed  him  with  presents,  but  Pla- 
to refused  them,  contenting  himself  with  his  promise  to 
recall  Dion  the  following  spring.  He  did  not  keep  his 
word, and  only  sent  him  his  revenue,  desiring  Plato  in 
his  letters  to  excuse  his  breach  of  promise  at  the  time 

Ere  fixed  and  to  impute  it  only  to  the  war.  He  assured 
iin,  as  soon  as  peace  should  be  concluded,  that  Dion 
should  return;  upon  condition,  however,  that  he 
should  continue  quiet,  and  not  intermeddle  in  affairs, 
nor  endeavour  to  lessen  him  in  the  opinion  of  the 
Greeks. 

Plalo,  on  his  return  to  Greece,  went  to  >ee  the  games 
at  Olympia,  where  he  happened  to  lodge  amongst 
strangers  of  distinction.  He  ate  and  passed  whole 
days  with  them,  living  in  a  plain  and  simple  manner, 
without  ever  mentioning  Socrates  or  the  Academy,  or 
making  himself  known  in  any  thing,  except  that  his 
name  was  Plato.  The  strangers  were  overjoyed  at 
having  met  with  so  mild  and  amiable  a  companion; 
but  as  he  never  talked  but  on  common  topics,  they 
bad  not  the  least  notion  that  he  was  the  philoso- 
pher whose  refutation  was  so  universal.  When  the 
rames  were  over,  they  went  with  him  to  Athens,  where 
ne  provided  them  with  lodgings.  They  were  scarce 
arrived  there,  when  they  desired  him  to  carry  them  to 
•ee  the  famous  philosopher  of  his  name,  who  had  been 
Socrates's  disciple.  Pluto  told  them  smiling,  that  he 
Was  the  man:  upon  which  the  strangers,  surprised  at 


i  Plut.  p.  %4. 


»  Pl»t.  Ep.  vii. 


*  In  amore  Im-c  nmnia  incunt  vitia;  suspirionrs.  inimici- 
Ir,  iiijuritr,  indacia*.  bcliutn,  pax  rursum.  1'erent.  in  Eu- 
muck. 

—  —  ^—  In  amore  h»c  sunt  male:  helium, 

Fax  rursum.    Her. 


their  having  possessed  so  inestimable  a  treasure  with- 
out knowing  it,  were  much  displeased  with,  and  se- 
cretly reproached  themselves,  for  not  having  di- 
scerned the  great  merit  of  the  man,  through  the  veil 
of  simplicity  and  modesty  which  he  had  thrown  over  it 
whilst  they  admired  him  the  more  upon  that  account. 
The  time  Dion  passed  at  Athens  was  not  mispent.' 
He  employed  it  chiefly  in  the  Mudy  of  philosophy,  tor 
which  he  had  a  great  taste,  and  which  was  become  hi* 
delight.  He  knew,' however,  which  is  not  very  easy, 
how  to  confine  it  within  just  bounds,  and  never  gave 
himself  up  to  it  at  the  expense  of  any  duty.  It  was  at 
the  same  time  thnt  Plato  made  him  contract  a  particu- 
lar friendship  with  his  nephew  Speueippus,  who.  uni- 
ting the  easy  and  insinuating  manners  of  a  courtier 
with  the  gravity  of  a  philosopher,  knew  how  to  asso- 
ciate mirth  and  innocent  pleasure  u  itli  the  mo-t  M  <••.- 
ous  affairs,  and  by  that  character,  very  rarelv  found 
amongst  men  of  Teaming,  was  the  most  proper  ol  all 
men,  to  soften  what  was  too  rough  and  austere  in 
Dion's  temper. 

Whilst  Dion  was  at  Athens,  it  fell  to  Plato's  turn 
to  give  the  public  games,  and  to  have  tragedies  per- 
formed at  the  feast  of  Bacchus,  which  was  usually  at- 
tended with  great  magnificence  and  expense,  from  an 
extraordinary  emulation  which  had  grown  into  fashion. 
Dion  defrayed  the  whole  charge.  Plato,  who  sought 
every  occasion  of  producing  him  to  the  public.  w«» 
well  pleased  to  resign  that  honour  to  him,  in  order 
that  his  magnificence  might  make  him  still  better  be- 
loved and  esteemed  by  the  Athenians. 

Dion  visited  also  the  other  cities  of  Greece,  was 
present  at  all  their  feasts  and  assemblies,  and  con- 
versed with  the  most  excellent  wits  nnd  the  most  pro- 
found statesmen.  He  was  not  distinguished  in  com- 
pany by  the  haughtiness  and  pride  too  common  in 
persons  ol  his  rank,  but,  on  the  contrary,  by  an  unaf- 
fected, simple,  and  modest  air;  and  still  more  by  the 
elevation  of  his  genius,  the  extent  of  his  knowledge, 
and  the  wisdom  of  his  reflections.  All  the  cities  paid 
him  the  highest  honours,  and  even  the  Lacedaemoni- 
ans declared  him  a  citizen  of  Sparta,  without  regard- 
ing the  resentment  of  Dionvsius,  though  he  actually 
was  assisting  them  at  that  time  with  a  powerful  sup- 
ply in  their  waragainst  the  Thebans.  So  many  marks 
of  esteem  and  distinction  alarmed  the  tyrant's  jea- 
lousy. He  put  a  stop  to  the  remittances  of  Dion's 
revenues,  and  ordered  them  to  be  received  by  hi* 
own  officers. 

After  Dionvsius  had  put  an  end  to  the  war,7  in 
which  he  was  engaged  in  Sicily,  of  which  history  re- 
lates no  circumstance,  he  was  afraid  that  his  treat- 
ment of  Plato  would  prejudice  the  philosophers 
against  him,  and  make  him  pass  for  their  enemy.  For 
this  reason  he  invited  the  most  learned  men  of  Italv 
to  his  court,  where  he  held  frequent  assemblies,  in 
which,  out  of  a  foolish  ambition,  he  endeavoured  to 
excel  them  all  in  eloquence  and  depth  of  knowledge; 
venting,  without  application,  such  of  Plato's  discourses 
HS  he  retained.  But  as  lie  had  (hose  discourses  on'r 
by  rote,  and  his  heart  had  never  been  rightly  n fieri fed 
with  them,  the  source  of  his  eloquence  was  soon  ex- 
hausted. He  then  perceived  what  he  had  lost  by  not 
having  made  a  better  use  of  that  treasure  of  wisdom 
which  he  had  i  nre  in  his  own  possession  and  under 
his  own  roof,  and  by  not  having  heard,  in  all  their 
extent,  the  admirable  lectures  of  the  greatest  philoto- 
pher  in  the  world. 

As  in  tyrants  every  thing  is  violent  and  impetuous, 
Dionv«iu8  was  suddenly  seized  with  an  excessive  de- 
sire of  seeing  Plato  again,  and  used  all  means  fur 
that  purpose.  He  prevailed  upon  Architas,  and  the 
other  Pythagorean  philosophers,  to  write  to  him,  that 
he  might  return  with  all  manner  of  security;  and  to 
be  bound  for  the  performance  of  all  the  promises 
which  had  been  made  to  him.  They  deputed  Archi- 
deinus  to  Plalo,  and  Dionvsius  sent  at  the  same  tint* 
two  galleys  of  three  benches  of  rowers,  with  several 


•  Plut.  in  Dion.  p.  P64. 

•  Retinuitque,  quod  e*t  difficillimum,  ei  sapieotii  •» 
dum.     Tafit.  in  vit.  dfrie.n   4. 

'  Plat.  Epitt.  rii.  p.  33$.  340.    Plut.  in  Dion.  p.  964.  060 


436 


HISTORY  OF 


of  his  friends  on  board,  to  entreat  his  compliance. 
He  also  wrote  letters  to  him  with  his  own  hand,  in 
which  he  frankly  declared,  that  if  he  would  not  be 
persuaded  to  Come  to  Sicily,  Dion  had  nothing  to  ex- 
pect Iroin  him;  hut  that  if  he  came,  there  was  nothing 
Ihat  he  would  not  be  inclined  to  do  in  Ins  favour. 

Dion  received  several  letters  at  the  same  time  from 
wife  and  sister,  who  pressed  him  to  prevail  upon 
Plato  to  make  a  voyage,  and  to  satisfy  the  impatience 
fcf  Dionvsius,  that  he  might  have  no  new  pretexts 
against  him  upon  that  account.  Whatever  repug- 
nance Plato  had  to  it,  he  could  not  resist  the  warm 
solicitations  made  to  him,  and  determined  to  go  to 
Sicily  for  the  third  time,  at  seventy  years  of  age. 

His  arrival  gave  the  whole  people  new  hopes,  who 
flattered  themselves  that  his  wisdom  would  at  length 
overthrow  the  tvranny;  and  the  joy  of  Dionysius  was 
inexpressible.  He  appointed  the  apartment  of  his 
garden  for  his  lodging,  the  most  honourable  in  the  pa- 
lace, and  had  so  much  confidence  in  him,  that  he  suf- 
fered him  to  have  access  at  all  hours,  without  being 
searched  ;a  favour  not  granted  to  any  ot  his  best  friends. 

After  the  first  caresses  were  over,  Plato  was  anxious 
t.o  enter  upon  Dion's  affair,  which  he  had  much  at 
heart,  and  which  was  the  principal  motive  of  his 
voyage.  But  Dionysius  put  it  off  at  first;  to  which 
ensued  complaints  and  murmurings,  though  not 
outwardly  expressed  for  some  time.  The  tyrant 
took  great  care  to  conceal  his  sentiments,  endeavour- 
ing bv  all  manner  of  honours,  and  by  all  possible 
regard  and  complaisance,  to  abate  his  friendship  for 
Dion.  Plato  dissembled  on  his  side,  and  though 
extremely  shocked  at  so  notorious  a  breach  of  faith, 
he  kept  his  opinion  to  himself. 

Whilst  thev  were  upon  these  terms,  and  believed 
that  nobody  penetrated  their  secret,  Helicon  of  Cyzi- 
cum,  one  of  Plato's  particular  friends,  foretold,  that 
on  a  certain  day  there  would  be  an  ecliose  of  the  sun ; 
which  happening  according  to  his  prediction  exactly 
at  the  hour  assigned,  Dionysius  was  so  much  surprised 
and  astonished  at  it  (a  proof  that  he  was  r.o  great 
philosopher,)  that  he  made  him  a  present  ot'a  talent.1 
Aristippus,  jesting  with  the  other  philosophers  upon 
that  occasion,  said,  that  he  had  also  something  very 
incredible  and  extraordinary  to  toretell.  Upon  being 
pressed  to  explain  himself,  "  I  prophesy,"  saic!  he, 
"  that  it  will  not  be  long  before  Dionysius  and  1  hito, 
who  seem  to  agree  so  well  with  each  other,  will  be 
enemies." 

Dionysius  verified  this  prediction;  for  being  wearv 
of  the  constraint  he  laid  upon  himself,  he  ordered  all 
Dion's  lands  and  effects  to  be  sold,  and  applied  the 
money  to  his  own  use.  At  the  same  time  he  made 
Plato  quit  the  apartments  in  the  garden,  and  gave 
him  another  lodging  without  the  castle  in  the  midst 
of  his  guards,  who  had  long  hated  him,  and  would 
have  been  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  kill  him,  because 
he  had  advised  Dionysius  to  renounce  the  tyranny,  to 
disband  them,  and  to  live  without  any  other  guxrd 
than  the  love  of  his  people.  Plato  was  sensible  tliat 
he  owed  his  life  to  the  tyrant's  favour,  who  restrained 
the  fury  of  his  guard. 

Arch'itas,  the  celebrated  Pythagorean  philosoph«r, 
who  was  the  principal  person  and  supreme  magistrate 
of  Tarentum,  had  no  sooner  heard  of  Plato's  great 
danger,  than  he  sent  ambassadors  with  a  galley  of 
thirty  oars  to  demand  him  from  Dionysius,  and  to 
remind  him,  that  he  had  come  to  Syracuse  only  upon 
hi*  promise,  and  that  of  all  the  Pythagorean  philoso- 
phers, who  had  engaged  for  his  safety;  that  therefore 
in-  could  not  retain  him  against  his  u  ill,  nor  suffer  any 
insult  to  be  done  to  his  person,  without  a  manifest 
breach  of  faith,  and  absolutely  forfeiting  the  opinion 
of  nil  honest  men.  These  just  remonstrances  awaken- 
ed a  remnant  of  shame  in  the  tyrant,  who  at  last  per- 
mitted Plato  to  return  into  Greece. 

Philosophy  and  wisdom  abandoned  the  palace  with 
him  2  To  tne  conversations,  as  agreeable  as  useful, 
to  that  taste  and  passion  for  the^arts  and  sciences,  to 
the  grave  and  judicious  reflections  of  a  profoundly 
wise  politician,  idle  tattle,*  frivolous  amusements. 

>  A  thoueaud  crowns.  *  Plut.  in  Moral   p.  52. 


and  a  stupid  indolence,  entirely  averse  to  every  thing 
serious  or  reasonable,  were  seen  to  gu<:<:e<:;l.  Glut* 
tony,  drunkenness,  and  debauchery  resumed  their 
former  empire  at  the  court,  and  transformed  it  from 
the  school  of  virtue,  which  it  had  been  under  Plato 
into  the  real  stable  of  Circe. 

SECTION  III.— DION  SETS  OUT  TO  DELIVER  SYRA 
CUSE.  SUDDEN  AND  FORTUNATE  SUCCESS  OF 
HIS  ENTERPRISE.  HORRID  INGRATITUDE  OF  THE 
SYRACUSANS.  UNPARALLELED  GOODNESS  OF  DIGS 
TO  THEM  AND  HIS  MOST  CRUEL  ENEMIES.  HIS 
DEATH. 

WHEN  Plato  had  quitted  Sicily.* 
Dionysius  threw  off  all  reserve,  and  A.  M.  3643. 
married  his  sister  Arete,  Dion's  wife.  Ant.  J.C.  361. 
to  Timocrates,  one  of  his  friends. 
So  unworthy  a  treatment  was,  in  a  manner,  the 
signal  of  war.  From  that  moment,  Dion  resolved  to 
attack  the  tyrant  with  open  force,  and  to  revenge 
himself  for  all  the  wrongs  he  had  done  him.  Pluto 
did  all  in  his  power  to  make  him  change  his  reso- 
lution; but  finding  his  endeavours  ineffectual,  he 
foretold  the  misfortunes  he  was  about  to  occasion, 
and  declared  that  he  must  expect  neither  assistance 
nor  relief  from  him:  that  as  he  had  been  the  guest 
and  companion  of  Dionysius,  had  lodged  in  his  palace 
and  joined  in  the  same  sacrifices  with  him,  he  should 
never  forget  the  duties  of  hospitality ;  and  ;it  the  same 
time,  not  to  be  wanting  to  his  friendship  for  Dion, 
that  he  would  continue  neuter,  always  ready  to  dis- 
charge the  offices  of  a  mediator  between  them,  in 
order  to  reconcile  them;  though  he  should  oppose 
their  designs,  when  they  tended  to  the  destruction  of 
each  other. 

Whether  through  prudence  or  gratitude,  or  th« 
conviction  that  Dion  could  not  justifiably  undertake 
to  dethrone  Dionysius;  this  was  Plato's  opinion.  On 
the  other  hand,  Speusippus,  and  all  the  rest  of  Dion's 
friends,  perpetually  exhorted  him  to  go  and  restore 
liberty  to  Sicily,  which  opened  its  arms  to  him,  and 
was  ready  to  receive  him  with  the  utmost  joy.  Thi« 
was  indeed  the  disposition  of  Syracuse,  which  Spe-a- 
sippu?,  during  his  residence  there  with  Plato  had 
sufficiently  experienced.  This  was  the  universal  cry, 
whilst  they  importuned  and  conjured  Dion  to  come 
thither,  desiring  him  not  to  be  in  pain  for  the  want 
of  ships  or  troops,  but  only  to  embark  in  the  first 
merchant-vessel  he  met  with,  and  lend  his  person 
and  name  to  the  Syracusans  against  Dionysius. 

Dion  did  not  hesitate  any  longer  to  take  that  reso- 
lution, which  in  one  respect  cost  him  not  a  little. 
From  the  time  that  Dionysius  had  obliged  him  to  quit 
Syracuse  and  Sicily,  he  had  led  in  his  banishment  the 
most  agreeable  life  it  was  possible  to  imagine,  for  a 
person  who  like  him  had  contracted  a  taste  for  the 
delights  of  study.  He  enjoyed  in  peace  the  conver- 
sation of  the  philosophers,  and  was  present  nt  their 
disputation*;  shining  in  a  manner  entirely  peculiar 
to  himself,  by  the  greatness  of  his  genius  and  the 
solidity  of  his  judgment;  going  to  all  the  cities  of  the 
learned  Greece,  to  see  and  converse  with  the  most 
eminent  i...  their  knowledge  and  capncity,  and  to 
correspond  with  the  ablest  politicians;  leaving  every 
|  where  the  marks  of  his  liberality  and  magnificence, 
'  equally  beloved  and  respected  by  all  that  knew  him; 
and  receiving,  wherever  he  came,  the  highest  honours, 
which  was  rendered  more  to  his  merit  than  his  birth. 
It  was  from  so  happy  a  life  that  he  withdrew  him*. -If 
to  go  to  the  relief  of  his  country,  whith  implored  his 
protection,  and  to  deliver  it  from  the  yoke  of  a 
tyranny  under  which  it  had  long  groaned 

No  enterprise  perhaps  was  ever  formed  with  so 
much  boldness,  or  conducted  with  so  much  prudence, 
Dion  began  to  raise  foreign  troops  privately  by  proper 
agents,  for  the  better  concealment  of  his  design.  A 
great  number  of  considerable  persons,  and  who  were 
at  the  head  of  affairs,  joined  with  him.  But  what  is 
very  .surprising,  of  all  those  whom  the  tyrant  had 
banished,  anil  who  were  not  less  than  1000,  only 
twenty-five  accompanied  him  in  this  expedition;  no 
much  had  fear  got  po»«e«sion  of  them.  The  i«le  of 


Hut.  in  Uiun.  p.  'JOG.  96*. 


D1ONYSIDS  TIIE  YOUNGER. 


457 


Z«ernthus  was  the  place  of  rendezvous,  where  the 
troops  assembled  to  the  iiuniber  of  almost  800;  but 
kll  of  them  of  tried  courage  on  grent  occasion*, 
excellently  disciplined  and  robust,  of  an  audacity 
and  experience  rarely  to  be  found  amongst  the  most 
brave  and  warlike;  and,  in  fine,  highly  capable  of 
animating  the  troops  which  Dion  was  in  hopes  of 
£nding  in  Sicily,  and  of  setting  them  the  example 
of  fighting  with  all  tlie  valour  so  noble  an  enterprise 
required. 

But  when  they  were  to  set  forwards,  and  it  was 
known  that  this  armament  wag  intended  against 
Sicily  and  Dionysius,  for  till  then  it  bad  not  been 
declared,  they  were  all  in  a  consternation,  and 
repented  their  having  engaged  in  an  enterprise  which 
they  could  not  avoid  considering  a?  the  effect  of 
extreme  rashness  and  follv,  that  in  the  last  despair 
was  for  putting  everv  thing  to  the  hazard.  Dion  had 
occasion  at  this  time  for  all  bis  resolution  and 
eloquence  to  re-animate  the  troops  and  remove  their 
fears.  But  after  he  had  spoken  to  them,  and,  with 
an  assured  though  modest  tone,  had  made  them 
understand,  that  he  did  not  lead  them  in  this  expedi- 
tion as  soldiers,  but  as  officers,  to  put  them  at  the  head 
of  the  Syracusans  and  all  the  people  of  Sicily,  who  had 
long  been  pre|>ared  for  a  revolt,  their  dread  and  sad- 
ness were  changed  into  shouts  of  joy,  and  they  desired 
nothing  so  much  as  to  proceed  on  their  voyage. 

Dion,  having  prepared  a  magni6cent  sacrifice  to  be 
offered  to  Apollo,  put  himself  a!  the  head  of  his  troops 
Completely  armed,  and  in  that  equipage  marched  in 
into  the  temple.  He  afterwardsgave  a  great 
feast  to  the  whole companv,  at  the  end  of  which,  after 
the  libations  and  solemn  prayers  had  been  made, 
there  happened  a  sudden  eclipse  of  the  moon.  Dion, 
who  was  w*  II  versed  in  the  causes  of  such  appearances, 
re-a—u'-ed  his  soldiers,  who  were  at  first  in  some  terror 
ujK>n  that  account.  The  next  day  they  embarked  on 
board  two  trading  vessels,  which  were  followed  bv  a 
third  not  so  large,  and  by  two  barks  of  thirty  oar?. 

Who  could  have  imagined,  says  a  historian,1  that 
a  mnn  with  two  merchant  vessels  should  ever  dare  to 
attack  a  prince  who  had  400  ships  of  war,«  100.000 
fool,  and  KMKH)  horse,  with  magazines  of  arms  and 
corn  in  proportion,  and  treasures  sufficient  to  pay  and 
maintain  them;  who,  besides  all  this,  w&.i  in  pos- 
session of  one  of  the  greatest  and  strongest  cities  then 
in  the  world,  with  ports,  arsenals,  and  impregnable 
citadels,  with  the  additional  strength  and  support  of  a 
great  number  of  potent  allies?  The  event  will  show, 
whether  force  and  power  are  adamantine  chains  for 
retaining  a  state  in  subjection,  as  the  elder  Dionysius 
flattered  himself;  or  whether  the  goodness,  humanity, 
»nd  justice  of  princes,  and  the  love  of  subjects,  are 
not  infinitely  stronger  and  more  indissoluble  ties. 

Dion  having  put  to  sea  with  his  small  body  of  troops 
was  twelve  days  under  sail  with  little  wind,'  and  the 
thirteenth  arrived  at  Pachynus.a  cape  of  Sicily,  about 
twelve  or  fifteen  leagues  from  Svracu«e.  When  they 
csn>e  to  that  place,  the  pilot  gave  notice  that  they 
must  land  directly,  as  there  was  reason  to  fear  a 
hurricane,  and  therefore  it  would  not  be  proper  to 
put  to  set.  But  Dion,  who  was  apprehensive  of 
making  his  descent  «o  near  the  enemy,  and  chose  to 
land  farther  off,  doubled  the  ra|>e  of  Pachynus.  He 
had  no  sooner  passed  it,  than  a  furious  storm  arose, 
attended  with  rain,  thunder,  and  lightning,  which 
drove  his  shi|>s  to  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa,  where 
they  wr  re  in  great  danger  of  being  dashed  to  pieces 


«  Hiod.  I.  *vi.  p.  -{13. 

•  Jt  is  nut  en«y  to  comprehend  how  the  two  Dinnysii 
were  rn;.a!il>>  of  maintaining  fa  rr-at  a  force  by  *oa  »nj 
.and.  their  dominions  l>ei"S  only  u  part  of  Sicily,  and  conse- 
quently nf  no  great  extent.  It  is  irue.  that  the  city  of 
f  vraruse  had  been  very  much  enriched  bv  commerce  ;  and 
nndoitbtedf  truwe  two  prinres  received  great  contribution! 
from  tlie  cities  dependent  upon  them  both  in  Sicily  tnd 
Italy  :  hut  it  i«  mill  no  ea«y  matter  to  conceive  hnw  nil  ihir 
enuld  lie  nurficKTit  for  thn  (-normou*  exponiiea  of  Dionisius 
the  elder,  in  fitting  out  prert  fleet*,  raii-inp  and  maintaining 
numerous  armies,  and  eroding  magnificent  buildingi.  It 
were  tn  Iw-  wished,  that  hi«torian»  hud  given  u<  tome  better 
li  -h's  upon  thin  head. 

a  Vlut.  in  Dion.  p.  968.  972      Piod.  I.  xti.  p.  414.  417. 

VCL.  I.— 58 


against  the  rocks.  Happily  for  them  a  sooth  wind 
ri«ing  suddenly,  contrary  to  expectation,  the\  unfurled 
all  their  sails,  and  alter  having  made  rows  to  the  gods, 
they  stood  out  to  sea  for  Sicily.  They  ran  in  this 
manner  four  days,  and  on  the  filth  entered  the  pmt  of 
Minna,  a  small  town  of  Sicily  under  the  Carthaginians, 
whose  commander  Synalus  was  Dion's  particular 
friend  and  guest.  They  were  perfectly  well  received, 
and  would  have  stayed  there  some  time  to  refresh 
themselves,  after  tlie  rude  fatigues  they  had  suffered 
during  the  storm,  if  they  had  not  bef  n  informed  that 
Dionysius  was  absent,  having  embarked  some  dajs 
before  for  the  coast  of  Italv,  attended  bv  fourscore 
vessels.  The  soldiers  demanded  earnestly  to  be  led 
on  against  the  enemy;  and  Dion,  having  desired 
Synalus  to  send  his  baggage  alter  him  at  a  proper 
time,  marched  directly  to  Syracuse. 

His  troops  increased  considerably  upon  his  route 
by  the  great  number  of  those  who  came  to  join  him 
from  all  parts.  The  news  of  his  arrival  being  soon 
known  at  Syracuse,  Timor/rates,  who  had  married 
Dion's  wife,  the  sister  of  Dionysius,  and  to  whom  h« 
had  left  the  command  of  the  citv  in  his  absence, 
despatched  a  courier  to  him  into  Italy,  with  advice 
of  Dion's  progress.  But  the  courier,  when  almost  at 
his  journey's  end,  was  so  fatigued  from  having  run 
the  best  part  of  the  night,  that  he  found  himself  under 
the  necessity  of  stopping  to  take  a  little  sleep.  In  the 
mean  time,  a  wolf,  attracted  by  the  smell  of  a  piece 
of  meat  which  he  had  in  his  wallet,  came  to  the  place, 
and  ran  away  with  both  the  flesh  and  the  bag,  in 
which  he  had  also  put  his  despatches.  Dionysius 
was  by  this  means  prevented  for  some  time  from 
knowing  that  Dion  WHS  arrived,  and  then  received 
the  news  from  other  hands. 

When  Dion  was  near  the  Anapus.  which  runs  about 
half  a  league  from  the  city,  he  ordered  his  troops  to 
halt,  and  offered  a  sacrifice  upon  the  river-side, 
addressing  his  prayers  to  the  rising  sun.  All  who 
were  present,  seeing  him  with  a  wrtath  of  flowers 
upon  his  head,  which  he  wore  upon  account  of  the 
sacrifice,  crowned  themselves  also  in  the  same  manner 
as  animated  with  one  and  the  same  spirit.  He  hac 
been  joined  on  his  march  by  at  least  5000  men,  one 
advanced  with  them  towards  the  city.  The  most 
considerable  of  the  inhabitants  came  out  in  white 
habits  to  receive  him  at  the  gates.  At  the  same  time 
the  people  fell  upon  the  tyrant's  friends,  and  upon 
the  spies  and  informers,  A.N  ACCURSED  RACE  or 
WRETCHES,  THE  ENEMIES  OF  THE  GODS  AND  MEN,* 
says,  Plutarch,  who  made  it  the  daily  business  of  their 
lives  to  disperse  themselves  into  all  parts,  to  mingle 
with  the  citizens,  to  pry  into  all  their  affairs,  and  to 
report  to  the  tyrant  whatever  they  said  or  thought, 
and  often  what  they  neither  said  nor  thought.  These 
were  the  first  victims  to  the  fury  of  the  people,  and 
were  knocked  on  the  head  with  clubs  immediately. 
Timocrates,  not  able  to  throw  himself  into  the 
citadel,  mounted  on  horseback,  and  escaped  from 
the  city. 

At  that  instant  Dion  appeared  within  sight  of  the 
walls.  He  marched  at  the  head  of  his  troops  magni- 
ficently armed,  with  his  brother  Megacles  on  one  side, 
and  Callippus  the  Athenian  on  the  other,  both  crowned 
with  chaplets  of  flower*.  After  him  came  ICO  of  the 
foreign  soldiers,  very  fine  troops,  whom  he  had  chosen 
for  his  guard.  The  rest  followed  in  order  of  battle, 
with  their  officers  at  the  head  of  them.  The  Syra- 
cusans beheld  them  with  inexpressible  satisfaction 
and  received  them  as  a  sacred  procession,  whom  the 
gods  themselves  regarded  with  pleasure,  and  who 
restored  them  their  liberty  with  the  democracy, 
forty-eight  year*  after  thty'had  been  banished  from 
their  citv. 

After  Dion  had  made  his  entry,  he  ordered  the 
trumpets  to  sound,  to  appease  the"  noise  and  tumult: 
and  silence  being  made,  a  herald  proclaimed,  thnt 
"Dion  and  Mtgncle?  were  come  to  abolish  ihe 
tyranny,  and  to  free  the  Svi-acusans  and  nil  the 
people'  of  Sicily  from  tb*  vote  of  a  tyrant."  Ana 
being  desirous  to  harangue  the  people  in  person,  b« 


«  'A>5(«irov{ 


. 

20 


458 


HISTORY  OF 


went  It  (lie  upper  part  of  the  city,  through  the 
quarter  railed  Achradina.  Wherever  he  passed,  the 
tsyracusans  had  get  out,  on  both  sides  of  the  streets, 
tables  and  bowls,  and  had  prepared  victims;  and  as 
he  came  before  their  houses,  they  threw  all  sort*  of 
flowers  upon  him,  addressing  TOWS  and  prayers  to  him 
B9  to  a  god.  Such  was  the  origin  of  idolatry,  which 
paid  divine  honours  to  those  who  had  done  the  peo- 
ple any  great  and  signal  services.  And  can  there  be 
any  service,  any  gilt,  so  valuable  as  that  of  liberty! 
Not  far  from  the  citadel,  and  below  the  place  called 
Pentapylas.stood  asun-dial  upon  a  high  pedestal, erect- 
ed by  Dionysius.  Dion  placed  himself  upon  it,  and 
in  a  speech  to  the  people,  who  had  crowded  around, 
exhorted  them  to  employ  their  utmost  efforts  for  the 
recovery  and  preservation  of  their  liberty.  The  Syra- 
cus.an-,  transported  with  what  he  said,  and  anxious  to 
express  (heir  gratitude  and  affection,  elected  him  and 
his  brother  captains-general  with  supreme  authority: 
and  by  their  consent,  and  at  their  entreaty,  joined 
with  them  twenty  of  the  most  considerable  citizens, 
half  of  whom  were  of  the  number  of  those  who,  ha- 
ving been  banished  by  Dionysius,  had  returned  with 
Dion. 

Having  afterwards  taken  the  castle  of  Epipolae,  he 
set  the  citizens  who  were  prisoners  in  it  at  liberty,  and 
fortified  it  with  strong  works.  Dionysius  arrived  from 
Italy  seven  days  after,  and  entered  the  citadel  by  sea. 
The  same  day  a  great  number  of  carriages  brought 
Dion  the  arms  which  he  had  left  with  Synalus.  These 
he  immediately  distributed  among  the  citizens  who 
were  unprovided.  All  the  rest  armed  and  equipped 
themselves  as  well  as  they  could,  expressing  the  great- 
est ardour  and  zeal. 

Dionysius  began  bv  sending  ambassadors  to  Dion 
and  the  Svracusans  with  proposals,  which  seemed  ve- 
ry advantageous.  The  answer  was,  that  by  way  of 
preliminary  he  must  abdicate  the  tyranny;  to  which 
Dionj&iii!  did  not  seem  averse.  From  thence  he 
came  to  interviews  and  conferences;  which  were  only 
feints  to  gain  time,  and  abate  the  ardour  of  the  Syra- 
cusans by  the  hope  of  an  accommodation.  Accord- 
ingly, having  made  the  deputies  who  were  sent  to 
treat  with  him,  prisoners,  he  suddenly  attacked,  with 
a  great  part  of  his  troops,  the  wall,  with  which  the 
Syracusans  had  surrounded  the  citadel,  and  made  se- 
veral breaches  in  it.  So  warm  and  unexpected  an  as- 
sault put  Dion's  soldiers  into  great  confusion,  and 
they  immediately  fled.  Dion  endeavoured  in  vain  to 
•top  them;  and  believing  example  more  efficacious 
than  words,  he  threw  himself  fiercely  into  the  midst 
of  the  enemy,  where  he  stood  the  charge  with  intre- 
pid courage,  and  killed  great  numbers  of  them.  He 
received  a  wound  in  the  hand  from  a  spear;  his  ar- 
mour wa*  scarce  proof  against  the  great  number  of 
darts  thrown  at  him,  and  his  shield  being  pierced 
through  in  many  places  with  spears  and  javelins,  he 
was  at  length  beaten  down.  His  soldiers  immediate- 
ly brought  him  off  from  the  enemy.  He  If-.ft  Tinio- 
nides  to  command  them,  and  getting  on  horseback, 
rode  through  the  whole  city,  stopped  the  flight  of  the 
Syracusnn*.  and  taking  the  foreign  soldiers,  whom  he 
had  left  to  guard  the  quarter  called  Achradina,  he  led 
them  on  fresh  against  Dionvslus's  troops,  who  were 
already  fatigued,  and  entirely  discouraged  by  so  vi- 
gorous and  unexpected  a  resistance.  It  was  now  no 
longer  a  battle,  but  a  pursuit.  A  great  number  of  the 
tyrant's  troops  were  killed  on  the  spot,  and  the  rest 
escaped  with  difficulty  into  the  citadel.  This  victory 
was  brilliant  and  glorious.  The  Syracusans,  to  reward 
the  valour  of  the  foreign  troops,  gave  each  of  them  a 
considerable  sum  of  money ;  und  those  soldiers,  to  ho- 
nour Dion,  presented  him  with  a  crown  of  gold. 

Soon  alter  came  herald*  from  Dionysiii*,  with  seve- 
ral letters  for  Dion  from  the  women  of  his  family,  and 
with  one  from  Dionvsius  himself.  Dion  ordered"  them 
all  to  be  read  in  a  full  assembly.  That  of  Diony«ius 
was  couched  in  the  form  of  a  request  and  justification, 
intermixed  however  with  the  most  terrible  menaces 
•gainst  the  person*  who  wete dearest  to  Dion;  his  sis- 
ter, wife,  and  son.  It  was  written  with  an  art  and 
address  exceedingly  well  calculated  to  render  Dion 
wsj-ected.  Dionyiiu*  put  him  in  mind  of  the  ardour 


and  zeal  he  had  formerly  expressed  tor  the  support 
of  the  tyranny.  He  exhorted  him  in  language  thouscn 
covert  and  somewhat  obscure, yet  sufficiently  plain  to 
be  understood,  not  to  abolish  it  entirely:  hut  to  pre 
serve  it  for  himself:  not  to  give  the  people  their  liber- 
ty, who  had  at  heart  no  attachment  to  him;  nor  to 
abandon  his  own  safety,  and  that  of  hi-  friends  and 
relations,  to  the  capricious  humour  of  a  violent  and  in- 
constant multitude. 

The  reading  of  this  letter  had  the  effect  which  Dio 
nysius  had  proposed  from  it.1  The  Syracusans,  with- 
out regard  to  Dion's  goodness  to  them,  and  the  great- 
ness of  his  soul  in  forgetting  his  dearest  interests,  and 
the  ties  of  nature,  to  restore  them  their  liberty,  took 
umbrage  at  his  too  great  authority,  and  conceived 
injurious  suspicions  of  him.  The  arrival  of  Hera- 
elides  confirmed  them  in  their  sentiments,  and  deter- 
mined them  to  act  accordingly.  He  was  one  of  the 
bani-hed  persons,  a  good  soldier,  and  well  known 
amongst  the  troops,  from  having  been  in  considerable 
commands  under  the  tyrant,  very  bold  and  ambitious, 
and  a  secret  enemy  of  Dion's,  between  whom  and 
himself  there  had  been  some  difference  in  Pelopon- 
nesus. He  came  to  Syracuse  with  seven  galleys  of 
three  benches  of  oars,  and  three  other  vessels,  not  tc 
join  Dion,  but  with  the  resolution  of  marching  with 
his  own  forces  against  the  tyrant,  whom  he  fnund  re- 
duced to  shut  himself  up  in  the  citadel.  His  first  en- 
deavour was  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  people,  for 
which  his  open  and  insinuating  behaviour  made  him 
very  fit;  whilst  Dion's  austere  gravity  was  offt  nsive 
to  the  multitude;  especially  as  they  were  become 
more  haughty  and  untractable  from  the  last  victory, 
and  expected  to  be  treated  like  a  popular  state,2  even 
before  they  could  call  themselves  a  free  people;  that 
is  to  say,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  Greek  terms,  they 
wished  to  be  used  with  complaisance,  (lattery,  regard, 
and  a  deference  to  all  their  capricious  humours. 

What  gratitude  could  be  expected  from  a  people 
that  consulted  only  their  passions  and  blind  preju- 
dices? The  Syracusans,  of  their  own  accord,  formed 
an  assembly  immediately,  and  chose  Heraclides  ad- 
miral. Dion  came  unexpectedly  thither,  and  com- 
plained highly  of  such  a  proceeding;  as  the  charge 
conferred  upon  Heraclides  was  an  abridgment  of  hi» 
office;  that  he  was  no  longer  generalissimo,  if  ano- 
ther commanded  at  sea.  These  remonstrances  obliged 
the  Syracusans,  against  their  will,  to  deprive  Hera- 
clides of  the  office  they  had  so  lately  conferred  upon 
him.  When  the  assembly  broke  up,  Dion  sent  for 
him,  and  after  some  gentle  reprimands  for  hi<  strange 
conduct  towards  him  in  so  delicate  a  conjuncture, 
wherein  the  least  division  amongst  them  might  ruin 
every  thing,  he  summoned  a  new  assembly  himself, 
and,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  people,  appointed 
Heraclides  admiral,  and  gave  him  a  guard,  as  he  had 
himself. 

He  thought  by  dint  of  kind  offices  to  get  the  bet- 
ter of  his  rival's  ill-will.  Heraclides,  in  his  expres- 
sions and  outnard  behaviour,  made  his  court  to  Dion, 
confessed  his  obligations  to  him,  promised  eternal 
gratitude,  was  mean  and  submissive  in  his  presence, 
and  obeyed  his  orders  with  a  promptitude  and  punc 
tuality  which  seemed  to  imply  an  entire  devotion  to 
his  service,  and  a  desire  of  occasions  to  do  him  plea- 
sure. But  underhand,  by  his  intrigues  and  cabals,  he 
influenced  the  people  against  him,  and  opposed  hi* 
designs  in  every  thing.  If  Dion  gave,  his  consent  thai 
Dionysius  should  quit  the  citadel  by  treaty,  he  \va» 
accused  of  favouring  and  intending  to  save  him:  if, 
to  satisfy  them,  he  continued  the  siege,  without 
hearkening  to  any  proposals  of  accommodation,  they 
did  not  fail  to  reproach  him  with  the  desire  ot  pro- 
tracti'ig  the  war,  for  the  sake  of  continuing  in  com- 
mand, and  of  keeping  the  citizens  in  awe  anil  respect. 

Philistus,  who  came  from  Apulia  to  the  tyrant's  re- 
lief with  several  galleys,  having  been  deteated  and 
put  to  death,  Dionysius  sent  to  offer  Dion  the  cita 
del  with  the  arms  and  troops  in  it,  and  money  to  pay 
them  for  five  months,  if  he  might  be  permitted  by  • 


i  Plut.  in  Dion   p.  972.  975.     Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  419.  -128, 
•  lift   TOU   Sif/t>i  it»»i    to   Suftx^-i'^i'irixi  3iXo>Ti(« 


DIONYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER 


459 


treaty  to  retire  into  [taly  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and 
be  allowed  the  revenue  of  certain  lands,  which  he 
mentioned,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Syracuse.  The 
Syracusans,  who  were  in  hopes  of  taking  Dionysius 
alive,  rejected  these  proposals;  and  Dionysius  des- 
pairing of  recor.cilmg  them  to  his  terms,  left  the  ci- 
tadel in  the  hands  of  his  eldest  son  Apollocratts,  and 
taking  the  advantage  of  a  favourable 

A.  M.  3644.  wind,  embarked  for  Italy  with  his 
Ant.  J.  C.  360.  treasures  and  effects  of  the  greatest 
value,  and  such  of  his  friends  as  were 
dearest  (o  him. 

Heraclides,  who  commanded  the  galleys,  was  very 
much  blamed  for  having  suffered  him  to  escape  by 
his  negligence.  To  regain  the  people's  favour,  he 
proposed  u  new  distribution  of  lands,  insinuating,  that 
the  foundation  of  liberty  was  equality,  as  poverty 
was  the  principle  of  servitude.  Upon  Dion's  oppo- 
•ing  this  (notion,  Heraclides  persuaded  the  people  to 
reduce  the  pay  of  the  foreign  troops,  who  amounted 
to  3000  men,  to  enact  a  new  division  of  land,  to  ap- 
point new  generals,  and  deliver  themselves  at  once 
from  Dion's  insupportable  severity.  The  Syracusans 
agreed,  and  nominated  twenty-five  new  officers,  He- 
raclides being  one  of  the  number. 

At  the  same  time  they  sent  privately  to  solicit  the 
foreign  soldiers  to  abandon  Dion,  and  to  join  with 
them,  promising  to  give  them  a  share  in  the  govern- 
ment as  native  citizens.  Those  generous  troops  re- 
ceived the  offer  with  disdain;  and  then  placing  Dion 
in  the  centre  of  them,  with  a  fidelity  and  affection  of 
which  there  are  few  examples,  they  made  their  bodies 
and  their  arms  a  rampart  for  him,  and  carried  him 
out  of  the  city  without  doing  the  least  violence  to 
any  body,  but  warmly  reproaching  all  they  met  with 
their  ingratitude  and  perfidy.  The  Syracusans,  who 
contemned  their  small  number,  and  attributed  their 
moderation  to  fear  and  want  of  courage,  began  to  at- 
tack them,  not  doubting  but  they  should  defeat  and 
put  them  all  to  the  sword  before  they  got  out  of  the 
citv. 

Dion,  reduced  to  the  melancholy  necessity  of  either 
fighting  against  his  fellow-citizens,  or  perishing  with 
bis  troops,  held  out  his  hands  to  the  Syracusans,  im- 
ploring them  in  the  most  tender  and  affectionate  man- 
ner to  desist,  and  pointing  to  the  citadel  full  of  ene- 
mies, who  saw  all  that  passed  with  the  utmost  joy. 
But  finding  them  deaf  and  insensible  to  all  his  remon- 
strances, he  commanded  his  soldiers  to  march  in  close 
order  without  attacking;  which  they  obeyed,  content- 
ing themselves  with  making  a  great  noise  with  their 
arms,  and  raising  loud  cries,  as  if  they  were  going  to 
fall  upon  the  Syracusans.  The  latter  were  so  dis- 
tnayed  with  those  appearances,  that  they  all  ran  away 
in  every  street  without  being  pursued.  Dion  hasten- 
ed the  inarch  of  his  troops  towards  the  country  of  the 
Leontines. 

The  officers  of  the  Syracusans,  laughed  at  and  ridi- 
culed by  the  women  of  the  city,  were  desirous  to  re- 
trieve their  honour;  and  made  their  troops  take  arms 
and  return  to  the  pursuit  of  Dion.  They  came  up 
to  him  at  the  pass  of  a  river,  and  made  their  horse  ad- 
vance to  skirmish.  But  when  they  saw  that  Dion  was 
resolved  in  earnest  to  repel  their  insults,  and  had 
made  his  troops  face  about  with  great  indignation, 
they  were  again  seized  with  terror,  and  taking  to 
their  heels  in  a  more  shameful  manner  than  before, 
made  all  the  haste  they  could  to  rejrain  the  city. 

The  Leontines  received  Dion  with  great  marks  of 
honour  and  esteem  '  They  also  made  presents  to  his 
soldiers,  and  declared  them  free  citizens.  Some  days 
after  which,  they  sent  ambassadors  to  the  Syracusans, 
to  demand  justice  for  the  ill  treatment  of  those  troops; 
and  they  on  their  side  sent  deputies  to  complain  of 
Dion.  Syracuse  was  intoxicated  with  inconsiderate 
joy  and  insolent  prosperity,  which  entirely  banished 
'elleclion  and  judgment. 

Every  thinj:  conspired  to  swell  and  inflame  their 
(iride.  "The  citadel  w*is  so  much  reduced  by  famine, 
that  the  soldiers  of  Dionvsius,  after  having  suffered 
rery  much,  resolved  at  last  to  surrender 'it.  They 


i  Plut   >.  075.  JW1     Piod.  p.  429,  423. 


j  sent  in  the  night  to  make  that  propi  tal,  and  were  to 
give  it  up  the  next  morning.  But  at  day-break,  whilst 
they  were  preparing  to  execute  the  treaty.  Nypsius 
an  able  and  valiant  general,  whom  Dionysius  had 
sent  from  Italy  with  corn  and  money  to  the  besieged 
appeared  with  his  galleys,  and  anchored  near  Aie- 
thusa.  Plenty  succeeding  on  a  sudden  to  famine 
Nypsius  landed  his  troops,  and  summoned  an  assem- 
bly, wherein  he  made  a  speech  to  the  soldiers  suita- 
ble to  the  present  conjuncture,  which  determined 
them  to  hazard  all  dangers.  The  citadel,  that  was 
upon  the  point  of  surrendering,  was  relieved  in  this 
manner,  contrary  to  all  expectation. 

The  Syracusans  at  the  same  time  hastened  on 
board  their  galleys,  and  attacked  the  enemy's  fleet. 
They  sunk  some  of  their  ships,  took  others,  and  pur- 
sued the  rest  to  the  shore.  But  this  very  victory 
was  the  occasion  of  their  ruin.  Abandoned  to  their 
own  discretion,  without  either  leader  or  authority  to 
command  or  counsel  them,  the  officers  as  well  as  sol- 
diers gave  themselves  up  to  rejoicing,  feasting,  drink- 
ing, debauchery,  and  every  kind  of  loose  excess. 
Nypsius  knew  well  how  to  take  advantage  of  this  ge- 
neral infatuation.  He  attacked  the  wall  that  enclosed 
the  citadel,  and  having  made  himself  master  of  it,  he 
demolished  it  in  several  places,  and  permitted  his  sol- 
diers to  enter  and  plunder  the  city.  All  things  were 
in  the  utmost  confusion.  Here,  the  citizens  half 
asleep,  had  their  throats  cut;  there,  houses  were  plun- 
dered ;  whilst  the  women  and  children  were  driven 
off  into  the  citadel,  without  regard  to  their  tears, 
cries,  and  lamentations. 

There  was  but  one  man  who  could  remedy  this 
misfortune  and  preserre  the  city.  Thi*  was  in  every 
body's  thoughts,  but  no  one  had  courage  enough  to 
propose  it;  so  much  ashamed  were  they  of  the  unge- 
nerous manner  in  which  they  had  driven  him  out. 
As  the  danger  increased  every  moment,  and  already 
approached  the  quarter  Achradina,  in  the  height  of 
their  extremity  and  despair,  a  voice  was  heard  from 
the  cavalry  and  allies,  which  said,  "That  it  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  recall  Dion  and  the  Peloponne- 
sian  troops  from  the  country  of  the  Leontines."  A« 
soon  as  any  body  had  courage  enough  to  utter  those 
words,  they  were  the  general  cry  of  the  Syracusans, 
who  with  tears  of  joy  and  grief  offered  up  prayers  to 
the  gods,  that  they  would  bring  him  back  to  them. 
The  hope  alone  of  seeing  him  again,  gave  them  new 
courage,  and  enabled  them  to  make  head  against  the 
enemy.  The  deputies  set  out  immediately  with  full 
speed,  and  arrived  at  the  city  of  Leontium  late  in  the 
evening. 

As  soon  as  they  alighted,  they  threw  themselves  at 
Dion's  feet,  bathed  in  their  tears,  and  related  the  de- 
plorable extremity  to  which  the  Syracusans  were  re- 
duced. Some  ol  the  Leontints,  and  several  of  the 
Peloponnesian  soldiers,  who  had  seen  them  arrive, 
were  already  got  round  Dion,  and  rightly  conceived, 
from  their  earnestness  and  humiliating  posture,  that 
something  very  extraordinary  had  happened.  Dion 
had  no  sooner  heard  what  they  had  to  say,  than  he 
carried  them  with  him  to  the  assembly,  which  formed 
itself  immediately;  for  the  people  ran  thither  with 
abundance  of  eagerness.  The  two  principal  deputies 
explained  in  a  few  words  the  greatness  of  their  dis- 
tress, and  implored  the  foreign  troops  "  to  hasten  to 
the  relief  of  the  Syracusans,  and  to  forget  the  ill 
treatment  they  had  received ;  and  the  rather,  because 
that  unfortunate  people  had  already  paid  a  severer 
penalty  for  it,  than.the  most  injured  amongst  them 
would  desire  to  impost." 

The  deputies  having  finished  their  discourse.  th«i 
whole  theatre  where  the  assembly  was  held  continued 
in  mournful  silence.     Dion  rose:  bat  as  soon  as  he 
began  to  speak,  a  torrent  of  tears  suppressed  his  utte- 
rance.    The  foreign  soldiers  called  out  to  him  to  take 
courage,  and  expressed  a  generous  compassion  lor 
his  grief.     At  length,  having  recovered  himself  a  lit- 
tle, he  spoke  to  them  in  these  terms:    "  Men  of  Pe- 
loponnesus, and  you  our  allies,  I  have  assembled  you 
(  here,  that  you   might  deliberate   upon  what  rer.-rds 
I  yourselves;  as  for  my  part,  I  must  not  deliberate  when 
1  Syracuse  is  in  danger.     If  I  cannot  preserve  it,  I  go 


460 


HISTORY  OF 


.o  perish  with  it,  and  to  bury  myself  in  its  ruins.  But 
for  \  ou,  if  you  are  resolved  to  assist  us  once  more; 
us,  who  are  the  most  imprudent  and  most  unfortunate 
of  mankind;  come  and  relieve  the  city  of  Syracuse, 
from  henceforth  the  work  of  your  hands.  But  if  the 
just  subjects  of  complaint  which  you  have  against  the 
Syracusans  determine  you  to  abandon  them  in  their 
present  condition,  and  to  suffer  them  to  perish;  may 
you  receive  from  the  immortal  gods  the  reward  you 
merit  lor  the  affection  and  fidelity  which  you  huve 
hitherto  expressed  for  me.  For  the  rest,  I  have  only 
to  desire  that  you  will  keep  Dion  in  your  remem- 
brance, who  did  not  abandon  you  when  unworthily 
treated  by  his  countrymen,  and  who  did  not  abandon 
his  countrymen  when  fallen  into  misfortunes." 

He  had  no  sooner  ceased  speaking,  than  (he  foreign 
sol. tiers  rose  up  with  loud  cries,  and  entreated  him  to 
lead  them  on  that  moment  to  the  relief  of  Syracuse. 
The  deputies,  transported  with  joy,  saluted  and 
embraced  them,  praying  the  gods  to  bestow  upon 
Dion  and  them  all  kind  of  happiness  and  prosperity. 
When  the  tumult  was  appeased,  Dion  ordered  them 
to  prepare  for  the  march,  and  as  soon  as  they  had 
supped,  to  return  with  their  arms  to  the  same  place, 
being  .letermined  to  set  out  the  same  night,  and  fly 
to  the  relief  of  his  country. 

In  the  mean  time,  at  Syracuse,  the  officers  of 
Dionvsiii*,  alter  having  done  all  the  mischief  they 
could  to  the  city,  retired  at  night  into  the  citadel 
with  the  loss  of  some  of  their  soldiers.  This  short 
respite  gave  the  seditious  orators  new  courage.  Flat- 
tering themselves  that  the  enemy  would  lie  still  after 
what  they  had  done,  they  exhorted  the  Syracusans  to 
think  no  further  of  Dion,  nor  to  receive  him  if  he 
came  to  their  relief  with  his  foreign  troops,  nor  to 
yield  to  them  in  courage,  but  to  defend  their  city 
and  liberty  with  their  own  arms  and  valour.  New 
deputies  were  instantly  despatched  from  the  general 
officers  to  Dion  to  prevent  his  coming,  and  from  the 
principal  citizens  and  his  friends  to  desire  him  to 
hasten  his  march;  which  difference  of  sentiments  and 
contrariety  of  advices  occasioned  his  advancing 
slowly,  and  by  short  marches. 

When  the  night  wag  far  spent,  Dion's  enemies 
seized  the  gates  of  the  city,  to  prevent  his  entrance. 
At  the  same  instant,  Nypsius,  well  apprised  of  all  that 
passed  in  Syracuse,  made  a  sally  from  the  citadel 
with  a  greater  body  of  troops,  and  more  determinate 
than  before.  They  entirely  demolished  the  wall  that 
enclosed  them,  and  entered  the  city,  which  they 
plundered.  Nothing  but  slaughter  and  blood  was 
seen  every  where.  Nor  did  they  stop  for  the  pillage, 
but  seemed  to  have  no  other  view  than  to  ruin  and 
destroy  all  before  them.  One  would  have  thought, 
that  the  son  of  Dionysius,  whom  his  father  had  left 
in  the  citadel,  being  reduced  to  despair,  and  prompted 
by  envenomed  hatred  for  the  Syracusans,  was  de- 
termined to  bury  the  tyranny  in  the  ruins  of  the  city. 
To  prevent  Dion's  relief  of  it,  they  had  recourse  to 
fire,  the  swiftest  instrument  of  destruction,  burning, 
with  torches  and  lighted  straw,  all  places  within  their 
power,  and  darting  combustibles  against  the  rest 
The  Syrucusans  who  fled  to  avoid  the  flames,  were 
butchered  in  the  streets;  and  those  who  to  shun  the 
murderous  sword  retired  into  the  houses,  were  driven 
out  of  them  again  by  the  encroaching  fire;  for  there 
were  abundance  of  houses  burning,  and  many  that 
fell  upon  the  people  in  the  streets. 

These  very  flames  opened  the  city  for  Dion,  by 
obliging  the  citizens  to  agree  in  not  keeping  the 
paten  -lint  against  him.  Couriers  after  couriers  were 
despatched  to  hasten  his  march.  Heraclides  himself, 
his  most  declared  and  mortal  enemy,  deputed  his 
brothci,  and  afterwards  his  uncle  The'odotus,  to  con- 
jure him  to  advance  with  the  utmost  speed  to  their  as- 
sistance, there  be  ing  no  one  who  was  able  to  make  head 
•gainst  the  enemy  he  him*elf  being  wounded,  find  the 
City  almost  entirely  ruined  and  reduced  to  ashes. 

Dion  received  this  new  when  he  was  about  sixty 
stadia1  from  the  gates.  His  soldiers  upon  that  occa- 
sion marched  with  the  utmost  diligence,  and  with  so 


>  Two  or  three  leagues. 


good  a  will,  that  it  was  not  long  before  he  arrived  at 
the  walls  of  the  city.  He  entered  by  tl.e  quarter 
called  Plecalompedon.  He  there  detached  his  light- 
armed  troops  against  the  enemy,  to  re-animate  the 
Svracusans  by  the  sight  of  them.  He  then  drew  up 
his  heavy-armed  infantry,  and  the  citizens  who  came 
running  to  join  him  on  all  sides.  He  divided  them 
into  snuill  parties,  of  greater  depth  than  front,  and  put 
different  officers  at  the  head  ol  them,  that  they  might 
be  capable  ot  attacking  in  several  places  at  once,  and 
appear  stronger  and  more  formidable  to  the  en-  my. 

Alter  having  made  these  dispositions,  and  ottered 
up  his  prayers  to  the  gods,  he  marched  across  the 
city  against  the  enemy.  In  every  street  as  he  passed 
he  was  welcomed  with  acclamations,  cries  of  joy,  and 
songs  of  victory,  mingled  with  the  pra\ers  and 
blessings  of  all  the  Syracusans,  who  called  Dion  their 
preserver  and  their  god,  and  his  soldiers  their  brothers 
and  fellow-citizens.  At  that  instant,  there  was  not  a 
single  man  in  the  city  so  fond  of  life,  as  not  to  be 
much  more  in  pain  for  Dion's  safety  than  his  own,  and 
not  to  fear  much  more  for  him  than  for  all  the-  rest 
together,  seeing  him  march  foremost  to  so  great  a 
danger,  over  blood,  fire,  and  dead  bodies,  with  which 
the  streets  and  squares  were  universally  covered. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  view  of  the  enemy  was  no 
less  terrible:  for  they  were  animated  by  rage  aud 
despair,  and  were  posted  in  line  of  battle  behind  the 
ruins  of  the  wall  they  had  thrown  down,  which  made 
the  approach  very  difficult  and  dangerous.  They 
were  under  the  necessity  of  defending  the  citadel, 
which  was  their  safety  and  re-treat,  and  durst  not 
remove  from  it,  lest  their  communications  should  be 
cut  off.  But  what  was  most  capable  of  disordering 
and  discouraging  Dion's  soldiers,  and  made  their 
march  very  painful  and  difficult,  was  the  fire.  For, 
wherever  they  turned  themselves,  they  marched  by 
the  light  of  the  houses  in  flames,  and  were  obliged  to 
go  over  ruins  hi  the  midst  of  fires;  exposing  I  hem- 
selves  to  being  crushed  in  pieces  by  the  fall  of  walls 
beams,  and  roofs  of  houses,  which  tottered  half  con 
sumed  by  the  flames,  and  under  the  necessity  of 
keeping  their  ranks,  whilst  they  opened  their  way 
through  frightful  clouds  of  smoke  mingled  with  dust. 

When  they  had  joined  the  enemy,  only  a  very 
small  number  on  each  side  were  capable  of  coming 
to  blows,  from  the  want  of  room,  and  the  unevennets 
of  the  ground.  But  at  length  Dion's  soldier?,  encou- 
raged and  supported  by  the  cries  and  ardour  of  the 
Syracusans,  charged  the  enemy  with  such  redoubled 
vigour,  that  the  troops  of  Nypsius  gave  way.  The 
greatest  part  of  them  escaped  into  the  citadel,  which 
was  very  near;  and  those  who  remained  without, 
being  broken,  were  cut  to  pieces  in  the  pursuit  by 
the  foreign  troops. 

The  time  would  not  admit  their  making  immediate 
rejoicings  for  their  victory,  in  the  manner  so  great  an 
exploit  deserved;  the  Syracusans  b*ing  obliged  to 
employ  themselves  in  rescuing  their  houses,  and  to 
pass  the  whole  night  in  extinguishing  the  fire;  which, 
however,  they  did  not  t  fleet  without  great  difficulty. 

At  the  return  of  day,  none  of  the  seditious  orators 
durst  stay  in  the  city,  but  all  fled  self-condemned,  to 
avoid  the  punishment  due  to  their  crimes.  Only 
Heraclides  and  Theodotus  come  to  Dion,  and  put 
themselves  into  his  hands,  confessing  their  injurious 
treatment  of  him,  and  conjuring  him  not  to  imitate 
their  ill  conduct;  that  it  became  Dion,  superior  as 
he  was  in  all  other  respects  to  the  rest  of  mankind, 
to  show  himself  equally  so  in  greatness  of  soul,  by 
subduing  his  resentment  and  revenge,  and  forgiving 
the  ungrateful,  who  owned  themselves  unworthy  of 
his  pardon. 

Heraclides  and  Theodotus  having  made  these 
supplications,  Dion's  friends  advised  him  not  to  spare 
men  of  their  vile  and  malignant  disposition;  but  to 
abandon  Heraclides  to  the  soldiers,  and  in  so  doing, 
exterminate  from  the  slate  tint  spirit  of  sedition  and 
intrigue;  a  distemper  that  has  really  something  of 
madness  in  it,  ana  is  no  less  to  be  feared  from  its 
pernicious  consequences  than  tyranny  itself.  But 
Dion,  to  appease  them,  said,  "That  other  captains 
generally  made  the  means  of  conquering  their  enemies 


DIONYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER. 


461 


their  sole  study;  that  for  his  part,  he  had  passed  much 
time  in  the  Academy,  in  learning  to  subdue  anger, 
envy,  and  all  the  jarring  passion.*  of  the  mind:  that 
the  si^n  of  having  conquered  them  is  not  kindness 
and  affability  to  friends  and  persons  of  mtrit;  but 
treating  those  with  humanity  who  have  injured  us, 
and  in  being'  always  ready  to  forgive  them:  that  he 
did  not  desire  so  much  to  appear  superior  to  Hera- 
elides  in  power  and  ability,  as  in  wisdom  and  justice; 
for  in  that,  true  and  essential  superiority  consists: 
that  if  Heraclides  be  wicked,  invidious,  and  per- 
fidious, r.iust  Dion  contaminate  and  dishonour  him- 
self by  base  resentment?  It  is  true,  according  to 
human  laws,  there  seems  to  be  less  injustice  in 
revenging  an  injury,  than  committing  it;  but  if  we 
consult  nature,  we  should  find  both  the  one  and  the 
other  .to  have  their  rise  in  the  same  weakness  of 
mind.  Besides,  there  is  no  disposition  so  obdurate 
and  savage,  but  may  be  vanquished  by  the  force  of 
kind  usage  and  obligations."  Dion,  influenced  bv 
these  maxims,  pardoned  Heraclides. 

He  engaged  next  in  enclosing  the  citadel  with  a 
new  work,  and  he  ordered  each  of  the  Svracusans  to 
go  and  cut  a  large  stake.  In  the  night,  he  set  his 
soldiers  to  work,  whilst  the  Svracusans  took  their 
rest.  He  surrounded  the  citadel  in  this  manner  with 
a  strong  |>alisade,  before  it  was  perceived;  so  that  in 
the  morning,  the  greatness  of  the  work,  and  the 
suddenness  of  the  execution,  were  matter  of  admira- 
tion for  all  the  world,  as  well  the  enemy  as  the 
citizens. 

Having  finished  this  palisade,  he  buried  the  dead; 
and  dismissing  the  prisoners  taken  from  the  enemy, 
he  summoned  an  assembly.  Heraclides  proposed  in 
it,  that  Dion  should  be  elected  generalissimo  with 
supreme  authority  by  sea  and  land.  All  the  people 
of  worth,  and  the  most  considerable  of  the  citizens, 
were  pleased  with  the  proposal,  and  desired  that  it 
might  have  the  sanction  of  the  assembly.  But  the 
mariners  and  artisans  who  were  sorry  that  Heraclides 
should  lose  the  office  of  admiral;  and  convinced 
that,  however  little  estimable  he  might  be  in  all 
other  respects,  he  would  at  least  be  more  for  the 
people  than  Dion,  opposed  it  with  all  their  power. 
Dion,  to  avoid  exasperating  them,  did  not  insist  upon 
that  point,  and  re-instated  Heraclides  in  his  command- 
in-chief  at  sea.  But  his  opposing  the  distribution  of 
lands  and  houses  which  they  were  anxious  should 
take  place,  and  his  cancelling  and  annulling  whatever 
bad  been  decreed  upon  that  head,  embroiled  him 
with  them  irretrievably. 

Herarlides,  taking  advantage  of  a  disposition  so 
favourable  to  his  views,  did  not  fail  to  revive  his 
cabals  and  intrigues  against  Dion;  as  appeared  openly 
by  an  attempt  of  his  to  make  himself  master  of  Syra- 
cuse, and  to  shut  the  gates  upon  his  rival.  But  it 
proved  unsuccessful.  A  Spartan,  who  had  been  sent 
to  the  aid  of  Syracuse,  negociated  a  new  accommo- 
dation between  Heraclides  and  Dion,  under  the 
strictest  oaths,  and  the  strongest  assurances  of 
obedience  on  the  side  of  the  former;  weak  ties  to  a 
man  void  of  faith  and  probity. 

The  Syracusans  having  dismissed  their  sea  forces, 
who  were  become  unnecessary,  applied  solely  to  the 
siege  of  the  citadel,  and  rebuilt  the  wall  which  had 
been  thrown  down.  As  no  relief  came  to  the  besieged, 
and  bread  began  to  fall  short  with  them,  the  soldiers 
£rew  mutinous  and  would  no  longer  observe  any 
discipline.  The  son  of  Dionysios,  finding  himself 
without  hope  or  resource,  entered  into  a  capitulation 
with  Dion,  by  which  he  surrendered  to  him  the  cita- 
dtl,  with  all  the  arms  and  other  warlike  stores.  HS 
carried  hi?  mother  and  sisters  away  with  him.  filled 
five  galleys  with  his  followers  and  effects,  and  went 
to  hi*  father;  for  Dion  gave  him  entire  liberty  to 
withdraw  unmolested.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  the  joy 
of  the  city  upon  his  departure.  Women,  children, 
«ld  people,  all  hurried  to  the  port  to  gratify  their 
eyes  uith  so  agreeable  a  spectacle,  and  to  solemnise 
the  joyful  day,  on  which,  after  so  many  year*'  servi- 
tude, the  sun  arose  for  the  first  time  upon  the  liberty 
of  Syracu«e. 

Apollo,  lates  having  set  sail,  and  Dion  beginning 


his  march  to  enter  the  Jtadel,  the  princesses,  who 
were  there,  did  not  stay  till  he  arrived,  but  came  out 
to  meet  him  at  the  gates.  Ariatomache  led  the  son 
of  Dion;  alter  whom  came  Arete,  his  wife,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  ujwn  the  ground  and  full  of  tears.  Dion 
embraced  his  sister  first,  and  afterwards  his  son. 
Aristomache  then  presenting  Arete  to  him,  spoke 
thus:  "The  tears  you  see  her  shed,  at  the  time  that 
your  presence  restores  us  life  and  joy,  the  shame 
expressed  in  her  looks,  her  silence  itself,  and  her 
confusion,  sufficiently  denote  the  grief  with  which 
she  is  penetrated,  at  the  sight  of  a  husband,  to  whom 
another  has  been  substituted  contrary  to  her  will,  but 
who  alone  has  always  possessed  her  heart.  Shall  she 
salute  you  as  her  uncle,  shall  she  embrace  you  as  her 
husband?"  Amtomuche  having  spoken  in  this  man- 
ner, Dion,  with  his  face  bathed  in  tears,  tenderly 
embraced  his  wife;  gave  his  son  again  into  her  arms, 
and  sent  them  home  to  his  house;  because  he  thought 
proper  to  give  up  the  citadel  to  the  Syracus>u>*,~as 
greater  evidence  of  their  liberty. 

For  himself,  after  having  rewarded  with  a  truly 
royal  magnificence  all  those  who  had  contributed  to 
his  success,  each  according  to  their  rank  and  merit; 
at  the  height  of  glory  and  happiness,  and  the  object 
of  admiration,  not  only  of  Sicily,  but  of  Carthage  and 
all  Greece,  who  esteemed  him  the  wisest  and  most 
fortunate  captain  that  ever  lived,  he  still  retained  his 
original  simplicity;  as  modtst  and  plain  in  his  garb, 
equipage,  and  table,  as  if  he  had  lived  in  the  academy 
with  Plato,  and  not  with  people  bred  in  armies,  with 
officers  and  soldiers,  who  often  breathe  nothing  but 
pleasures  and  magnificence.  Accordingly,  at  the 
time  that  Plato  wrote  to  him,  "That  the  eyes  of  all 
mankind  were  upon  him  alone;"  little  affected  with 
that  general  admiration,  his  thoughts  were  always 
intent  upon  the  academy,  that  school  of  wisdom  and 
virtue,  where  exploits  and  successes  were  judged  of, 
not  from  the  external  splendour  and  noise  with  which 
thiy  are  attended,  but  from  the  wise  and  moderate 
use  which  is  made  of  them. 

Dion  designed  to  establish  a  form  of  government  in 
Syracuse,  composed  of  the  Spartan  and  Cretan,  but 
wherein  the  aristocracy  was  always  to  prevail,  and  to 
decide  the  most  important  affairs,  by  the  authority, 
which,  according  to  his  plan,  was  to  be  vested  in  a 
council  of  elders.  Heraclides  again  opposed  him  in 
this  scheme,  still  turbulent  and  seditious  as  usual, 
and  solely  intent  u|X>n  gaining  the  people  by  flattery, 
caresses,  and  other  popular  arts.  One  day,  when 
Dion  sent  for  him  to  the  council,  he  answered  that 
he  would  not  come;  and  that,  being  only  a  private 
person,  he  should  be  in  the  assembly  with  the  rest  of 
the  citizens,  whenever  it  was  summoned.  His  view, 
in  such  behaviour,  was  to  make  his  court  to  the 
people,  and  to  render  Dion  odious;  who,  weary  of 
his  repeated  insults,  permitted  those  to  kill  him  whom 
he  had  formerly  prevented.  They  accordingly  went 
to  his  house  and  despatched  him.  We  shall  see 
presently  Dion's  own  sense  of  this  action. 

The  Syracusans  were  deeply  affected  with  hi«  death, 
but  as  Dion  solemnized  his  funeral  with  great  magni- 
ficence, followed  his  body  in  person  at  the  head  of  his 
whole  army,  and  afterwards  harangued  the  people 
upon  the  occasion,  they  were  appeased,  and  forgave 
him  the  murder;  convinced  that  it  was  impossible  for 
the  city  ever  to  be  free  from  commotions  and  sedi- 
tion, while  Heraclides  and  Dion  governed  together. 

After  that  murder  Dion  never  knew  ioy  nor  peace 
of  mind.1  A  hideous  spectre,  which  he  raw  in  the 
night,  hilled  him  with  trouble,  terror, and  melancholy. 
The  phantom  seemed  a  woman  of  enormous  stature, 
who,  in  her  attire,  air,  and  haggard  looks,  resembled 
a  fury,  and  who  swept  his  house  with  violence.  His 
son's  death,  who  for  some  unknown  grief  had  thrown 
himself  from  the  roof  of  a  house,  passed  for  the 
accomplishment  of  that  ominous  apparition,  and  was 
the  prelude  to  his  misfortunes.  Callippus  gave  the 
finishing  stroke  to  them.  He  was  an  Athenian,  with 
whom  Dion  had  contracted  an  intimate  friendship 
whilst  he  lodged  in  his  house  at  Athens,  and  wita 


•  Plot.  p.  081.  683.    Diod.  p.  439 


HISTORY  OF 


whom  he  had  lired  ever  after  in  an  entire  freedom 
»nd  unbounded  confidence.  Callippus,  having  given 
himself  up  to  his  ambitious  views,  and  entertained 
thoughts  of  making  himself  master  of  Syracuse,  thrtw 
off  all  regard  for  the  sacred  ties  of  friendship  and 
hospitality,  and  devised  how  to  get  rid  of  Dion,  who 
was  the  "  sole  obstacle  to  his  designs.  Notwith- 
standing his  care  to  conceal  them,  they  got  air,  and 
came  to  the  ears  of  Dion's  sister  and  wife,  who 
lost  no  time,  and  «pared  no  pins,  to  discover  the 
truth  by  a  very  strict  inquiry.  To  prevent  its  effects, 
he  went  to  them  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  inconsolable,  that  any  body  should 
»u*pect  him  of  such  a  crime,  or  think  him  capable  of 
so  black  a  design.  They  insisted  upon  his  taking  the 
great  oath,  as  it  was  called.  The  person  who  swore 
t,  was  wrapped  in  the  purple  mantle  of  the  goddess 
Proserpine,  and  holding  a  lighted  torch  in  his  hand, 
pronounced  in  the  temple  the  most  dreadful  execra- 
tions, against  himself  which  it  is  possible  to  imagine. 
The  oath  cost  him  nothing,  but  did  not  convince  the 
princesses.  They  daily  received  new  intimations  of 
his  guilt  from  several  hands,  as  did  Dion  himself,  and 
all  his  friends  in  general  persuaded  him  to  prevent 
Callippus's  crime  by  a  just  and  sudden  punishment. 
But  he  never  could  resolve  upon  it.  The  death  of 
Heraclides,  which  he  looked  upon  as  a  horrible  blot 
upon  his  reputation  and  virtue,  was  perpetually  pre- 
sent to  his  troubled  imagination,  and  renewed  by  con- 
tinual terrors  his  grief  and  repentance.  Tormented 
night  and  day  by  that  cruel  remembrance,  he  pro- 
fessed that  he  had  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths,  and 
present  his  throat  himself  to  who.ever  would  kill  him, 
than  live  under  the  necessity  of  continual  precautions, 
not  only  against  his  enemies,  but  the  best  of  his  friends. 
Callippus  ill  deserved  that  name.  He  hastened  to 
the  execution  of  his  crime,  and  caused  Dion  to  be  as- 
sassinated in  his  own  house  by  some  Zacynthian  sol- 
diers, who  were  entirely  devoted  to  his  interest.  The 
gister  and  wife  of  that  prince  were  put  into  prison, 
where  the  latter  was  delivered  of  a  son,  which  she 
resolved  to  nurse  there  herself. 

After  this  murder,  Callippus  was 
A.  M.  3646.  for  some  time  in  a  splendid  condition, 
Ant.  J.  C.  358.  having  made  himself  master  of  Syra- 
cuse by  the  mean*  of  the  troop*,  who 
were  entirely  devoted  to  his  service,  and  whom  he 
had  gained  by  the  gifts  he  bestowed  upon  them.  The 
Pagans  believed,  that  the  Divinity  ought  to  punish 
great  crimes  in  a  sudden  and  extraordinary  manner 
in  this  life;  and  Plutarch  observes,  that  the  success 
of  Callippus  occasioned  very  great  complaints  against 
the  gods,  as  if  they  suffeied  calmly,  and  without  in- 
dignation, the  vilest  of  men  to  raise  himself  to  so  ex- 
alted a  fortune  by  so  detestable  and  impious  a  me- 
thod. But  Providence  was  not  long  without  justify- 
ing itself,  for  Callippus  soon  suffered  the  punishment 
of  his  guilt.  Having  marched  with  his  troops  to  take 
Catana,  Syracuse  revolted  against  him,  and  threw  oft' 
the  yoke  of  so  shameful  a  subjection.  He  afterwards 
attacked  Messina,  where  he  Tost  abundance  of  men, 
and  particularly  all  the  Zacynthian  soldiers,  who  had 
murdered  Dion.  No  city  of  Sicily  would  receive 
him,  but  all  detesting  him  as  the  most  execrable  of 
wretches,  he  retired  to  Rhegium,  where,  after  having 
led  for  some  time  a  miserable  life,  he  was  killed  by 
Leptines  and  Polyperchon,  and,  it  was  said,  with  the 
tame  dagger  with  which  Dion  had  been  assassinated. 
History  has  few  examples  of  so  striking  an  attention 
of  Providence  to  punish  great  crimes,  such  as  murder, 
perfidy,  treason,  either  in  the  authors  of  those  crimes 
themselves,  who  commanded  or  executed  them,  or  in 
the  accomplices  who  were  any  way  concerned  in  them. 
The  divine  justice  displays  itself  from  time  to  time 
in  this  manner,  to  prove  that  it  is  not  unconcerned 
•nd  inattentive;  and  to  prevent  the  inundation  of 
crimes,  which  an  entire  impunity  would  occasion;  but 
it  does  not  always  distinguish  itself  by  remarkable 
chastisements  in  this  world,  to  intimate  to  mankind, 
that  greater  punishments  are  reserved  for  guilt  in  the 
next. 

As  for  Aristomache   and  Arete,  at  soon  as  they 
came  out  of  prison,  Icetat  of  Syracuse  one  of  Dion'i 


friends,  received  them  into  his  house,  and  treated 
them  at  first  with  an  attention,  fidelity,  and  generosity 
of  the  most  exemplary  kind,  had  he  persevered:  but 
complying  at  last  with  Dion's  enemies,  he  provided  a 
bark  for  them,  and  having  put  them  on  board,  under 
the  pretence  of  sending  them  to  Peloponnesus,  he 
gave  orders  to  those  who  were  to  carry  them,  to  kill 
them  on  the  voyage,  and  to  throw  them  into  the  sea. 
He  was  not  long  without  receiving  the  chastisement 
due  to  his  black  treachery;  for  being  taken  by  Timo- 
leon,  he  was  put  to  death.  The  Syracusans,  fully  to 
avenge  Dion,  killed  also  the  two  daughters  of  that 
traitor. 

The  relations  and  friends  of  Dion,1  soon  after  hi 
death,  had  written  to  Plato,  to  consult  him  upon  th 
manner  in  which  they  should  behave  in  the  present 
troubled  and  fluctuating  condition  of  Syracuse,  and 
to  know  what  sort  of  government  it  was  proper  to 
establish  there.  Plato,  who  knew  the  Syracusans 
were  equally  incapable  of  entire  liberty  or  absolute 
servitude,  exhorted  them  strenuously  to  pacify  all 
things  as  soon  as  possible,  and  for  that  purpose  to 


change  the  tyranny,  of  which  the  very  name  was  odi 
ous,  into  a  lawful  sovereignty,  which  would  mak* 
subjection  easy  and  agreeable.  He  advised  them 


(and, according  to  him,  it  had  been  Dion's  opinion)  tc 
create  three  kings,  one  to  be  Hippnrinus,  Dion's  son 
another  Hipparinus,  Dionysius  the  younger's  bro 
ther,  who  seemed  to  be  well  inclined  towards  the  peo 
pie;  and  Dionysius  himself,  if  he  would  comply  with 
such  conditions  as  should  be  duly  prescribed  hire; 
and  to  invest  them  with  an  authority  not  much  unlike 
that  of  the  kings  of  Sparta.  By  the  same  scheme, 
thirty-five  magistrates  were  to  be  appointed,  to  take 
care  that  the  laws  should  be  duly  observed ;  these 
were  to  have  great  authority  both  in  times  of  war 
and  peace,  and  to  serve  as  a  balance  between  the 
power  of  the  kings,  the  senate,  and  the  people. 

It  does  not  appear  that  this  advice  was  ever  follow- 
ed, and  indeed  it  had  great  inconveniences.  It  is  on- 
ly known,2  that  Hipparinus,  Dionysius's  brother,  ha- 
ving landed  at  Syracuse  with  a  fleet  and  considerable 
forces,  expelled  Callippus,  and  exercised  the  sove- 
reign power  two  years. 

The  history  of  Sicily,  which  I  have  related  thui 
far,  includes  about  fifty  years,  beginning  with  Diony- 
sius the  elder,  who  reigned  thirty-eight,  to  the  death 
of  Dion. 

SECTION    IV.— CHARACTER  OF  DION- 

IT  is  not  easy  to  find  so  many  excellent  qualities  in 
one  and  the  same  person  as  were  united  in  Dion.  1 
do  not  consider,  in  this  place,  his  wonderful  taste  for 
the  sciences,  his  art  of  associating  them  with  the  great- 
est employments  of  war  and  peace,  ol  extracting  from 
them  the  rules  of  conduct  and  maxims  of  govern- 
ment, and  of  making  them  an  equally  useful  and  ho- 
nourable entertainment  of  his  leisure;  I  confine  my- 
self to  the  statesman  and  patriot;  and  in  this  view, 
how  admirable  does  he  appear!  Greatness  of  soul, 
elevation  of  sentiments,  generosity  In  bestowing  hii 
wealth,  heroic  valour  in  battle,  attended  with  a  cool- 
ness of  temper,  and  a  prudence  scarce  to  l>e  paral- 
leled :  a  mind  vast  and  capable  of  the  highest  views, 
a  constancy  not  to  be  shaken  by  the  greatest  danger* 
or  the  most  unexpected  revolutions  of  fortune,  the 
love  of  his  country  and  of  the  public  good  carried  al- 
most to  excess:  these  are  part  of  Dion's  virtues.  The 
design  he  formed  of  delivering  his  country  from  the 
yoke  of  tyranny,  and  his  boldness  and  wisdom  in  the 
execution  of  it,  show  us  of  what  he  is  capable. 

But  what  I  conceive  the  greatest  beauty  in  Dion'i 
character,  the  most  worthy  of  admiration,  and  if  I 
may  say  so,  the  most  above  human  nature,  is  the 
greatness  of  noul,  the  unexampled  patience,  with 
which,  he  suffered  the  ingratitude  of  his  countrymen. 
He  had  abandoned  and  sacrificed  every  thing  to  come 
to  their  relief;  he  had  reduced  the  tyranny  to  extre- 
mities, and  was  upon  the  point  of  re-establishing  them 
in  the  full  possession  of  their  liberty:  in  return  for 
such  great  service*  they  shamefully  expelled  him  the 


I  Plat   p.  riii 


*  Diod.  1.  iri.  p.  430 


DIONYSIUS  THK  YOUNGER. 


403 


city,  accompanied  with  a  handful  of  foreign  soldiers, 
wiiose  fidelity  they  had  not  been  able  to  corrupt; 
they  load  him  with  injuries,  and  add  to  their  base  per- 
fidy the  most  cruel  outrages  and  indignity;  to  punish 
those  ungrateful  traitors  he  had  only  a  signal  to  give, 
and  to  leave  the  rest  to  the  indignation  of  his  soldiers: 
master  of  their  temper,  as  well  as  his  own,  he  curbs 
their  impetuosity,  and,  without  disarming  their  hands, 
restrains  their  just  rage,  suffering  them,  in  the  very 
height  and  ardour  of  an  attack,  only  to  terrify,  and 
not  kill,  his  enemies,  because  he  could  not  forget  that 
they  were  his  fellow-citizens  and  brethren. 

'fhere  seems  to  he  only  one  defect  that  can  be  ob- 
jected to  Dion,  which  is,  his  having  something  rigid 
and  austere  in  his  temper,  that  made  him  less  acces- 
sible and  sociable  than  he  should  have  been,  and  kept 
even  persons  of  worth  and  his  best  friends  at  a  kind 
of  distance.  Plato,  and  those  who  had  his  glory  sin- 
cerely at  heart,  had  often  warned  him  of  this.  But 
notwithstanding  the  reproaches  which  were  made  him 
upon  his  too  austere  gravity,  and  the  inflexible  seve- 
rity, with  which  he  treated  the  people,  he  still  piqued 
himself  upon  making  no  abatement  of  them:  whether 
his  natural  disposition  was  entirely  averse  to  the  arts 
of  insinuation  and  persuasion;  or  that  from  the  view 
of  correcting  and  reforming  the  Syracusans,  vitiated 
and  corrupted  by  the  flattering  and  complaisant  dis- 
courses of  their  orators,  he  thought  fit  to  employ  that 
rough  and  manly  manner  of  behaviour  towards  them. 

Dion  was  mistaken  in  the  most  essential  point  of 
governing.  From  the  throne  to  the  lowest  office  in 
the  state,  whoever  is  charged  with  the  care  of  ruling 
and  conducting  others,  ought  particularly  to  study 
the  art  of  managing  men's  tempers,1  and  of  giving 
them  that  bent  and  turn  of  mind  that  may  best  suit 
his  measures;  which  cannot  be  done  by  harshly  do- 
mineering over  them,  by  commanding  haughtily,  and 
contenting  one's  self  with  laying  down  the  rufe  and 
the  duty  with  inflexible  rigour.  There  is,  even  in 
worth  itself,  in  virtue,  and  the  exercise  of  all  func- 
tions, an  exactitude  and  steadiness,  or  rather  a  kind 
of  stiffness,  which  frequently  degenerates  into  a  vice 
when  carried  into  extremes.  I  know  it  is  never  al- 
lowable to  break  through  rules,  but  it  is  always  lau- 
dable, and  often  necessary,  to  soften  and  make  them 
more  pliant;  which  is  best  effected  by  mildness  of 
demeanour,  and  an  insinuating  behaviour;  not  always 
exacting  the  discharge  of  a  duty  in  its  utmost  rigour; 
overlooking  abundance  of  small  faults,  that  do  not 
merit  much  notice,  and  animadverting  upon  those 
which  are  more  considerable  with  favour  and  mild- 
ness; in  a  word,  in  endeavouring  by  all  possible 
means  to  acquire  people's  affection,  and  to  render 
virtue  and  duty  amiable. 

Dion's  permission  to  kill  Heraclides,  which  was 
obtained  with  difficulty,  or  rather  forced  from  him, 
contrary  to  his  natural  disposition  as  well  as  princi- 
ples, cost  him  dear,  and  brought  that  trouble  and 
anguish  upon  him  that  lasted  till  the  day  of  his  death, 
and  of  which  they  were  the  principal  cause. 

SECTION  V. — DIONYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER   RE-AS 

CEND9  THE  THRONE.  SYRACUSE  IMPLORES  AID 
OF  THE  CORINTHIANS,  WHO  SEND  TIMOLEON. 
THAT  GENERAL  ENTERS  SYRACUSE,  NOTWITH- 
STANDING ALL  THE  ENDEAVOURS  OF  ICETAS  TO 
PREVENT  HIM.  DIONYSIUS  SURRENDERS  HIM- 
SELF TO  HIM,  AND  RETIRES  TO  CORINTH. 

Callippus  who  had  caused  Dion  to 
^.  M.  3647.  be  murdered,  and  hid  substituted  him- 
Afli    J.  C.  357.  self  in  his  place,  did  not   possess  his 
power  long.*     Thirteen  months  after 
Hipt>arinus,  Dionvsius's  brother,  arriving  unexpected- 
ly at  Syracuse  with   a  numerous  fleet,  expelled   him 
from  the  city,  and  recovered  his  paternal  sovereignty 
which  he  held  during  two  years. 

Syracuse  and  all   Sicily,  being  ha 

A.  M.  3654.     rnssed  by  different  factions  and  intes 

Ant.  J.  C.  350.    tine  war,  were  in  a  miserable  condi 

tion.      Dionysius,  taking  advantagi 

>  Which  art  an  ancient  poet  railed  Arranima.  ot?««  <m*i 
MM  regina  rerun  oral  to.     Cic.  I.  de  divin.  n.  80. 
•  Diod.  I.  x» i.  p.  432— 436, 


of  those  troubles,  tf  n  years  after  he  had  been  obliged 
to  quit  the  throne,  had  assembled  some  foreign  troops, 
and  having  overcome  Nypsaeu>,  who  had  made  himself 
master  of  Syracuse,  he  reinstated  himself  in  the  pos- 
session of  his  dominions. 

It  was  perhaps  to  thank  the  gods  for  his  re-esta- 
blishment,1 and  to  express  his  gratitude  to  them,  that 
he  sent  statues  ofgold  and  ivory  to  Olympia  and  Del- 
phi of  very  great  value.  The  galleys  which  carried 
them  were  taken  by  IphicrMt-s,  wh  <  was  Hi  that  time 
near  Corryra  with  a  Meet.*  He  wrote  to  Athens  to 
mow  in  what  manner  he  should  dispose  of  this  sacred 
>ooty,  and  was  answered  that  he  need  not  examine 
rupulou>lv  fur  whst  it  was  designed,  but  make  use 
of  it  for  the  subsistence  of  bis  troops.  Di'jnvsius 
complained  bitterly  of  such  treatment  to  the  Atheni 
ans,  in  a  letter  which  he  wrote,  wherein  he  reproach- 
ed them,  with  great  warmth  and  justice,  for  their 
avarire  and  sacrilegious  impiety. 

A  commander  of  pirates  had  acted  much  more  noblj 
and  more  religious  towards  the  Romans  about  fifty 
•ears  before.*  The  latter,  after  the  taking  of  Veii,  the 
liege  of  which  had  lasted  ten  years,  sent  a  golden  cup 
.0  Delphi.  The  deputies  who  carried  that  present 
were  taken  by  the  pirates  of  Lipara,  and  carried  to 
that  island.  It  was  the  custom  to  divide  among  the 
citizens  all  the  prizes  they  took  as  a  common  stock.* 
The  island  at  that  time  was  under  the  government  of 
a  magistrate  more  like  the  Romans  in  his  manners 
han  those  he  governed.  He  was  called  Timasithe- 
us,7  and  his  behaviour  agreed  well  with  the  signifi- 
cation of  his  name.  Full  of  respect  for  their  rharac- 
:er  of  envoys,  the  sacred  gift  they  carried,  the  motive 
of  their  offering,  and  still  more  for  the  majesty  of  the 
fod  for  whom  it  was  designed,  he  inspired  the  mul- 
itude,  that  generally  follow  the  example  of  those 
who  rule  them,  with  the  same  sentiments  of  respect 
and  religion.  The  envo\s  were  received  therefor* 
with  all  possible  marks  of  distinction,  and  their  ex- 
penses borne  by  the  public.  Timasitheus  convoyed 
iht  in  with  a  strong  squadron  to  Delphi,  and  brought 
them  back  in  the  same  manner  to  Rome.  It  is  easy 
to  judge  how  sensibly  the  Romans  were  affected  with 
so  noble  a  proceeding.  By  a  decree  of  the 'senate 
they  rewarded  Timasitheu?  with  great  presents,  and 
granted  him  the  right  of  hospitality.  And  more  than 
150  years  after,  when  the  Romans  took  Lipara  from 
the  Carthaginians,  with  the  same  gratitude  as  if  the 
action  had  been  but  lately  done,  they  thought  them- 
selves obliged  to  do  farther  honour  to  the  family  of 
their  benefactor,  and  resolved  that  all  his  descendants 
should  be  ever  exempted  from  the  tribute  imposed 
upon  the  other  inhabitants  of  that  island. 

This  was  certainly  great  and  noble  on  both  sidesi 
but  the  contrast  does  no  honour  to  the  Athenians. 

To  return  to  Dionysius.  Though  he  expressed 
some  regard  for  the  gods,  his  actions  evinced  no  hu- 
manity for  his  subjects.  His  past  misfortunes,  in- 
stead of  correcting  and  softening  his  disposition,  had 
only  served  to  inflame  it,  and  to  render  him  more 
savage  and  brutal  than  before. 

The  most  worthy  and  considerable  of  the  citizens,* 
not  being  able  to  support  so  cruel  a  servitude,  had 
had  recourse  to  Icetas,  king  of  the  Leontines.  and 
abandoning  themselves  to  his  conduct,  had  elected 
him  their  general;  not  that  they  believed  he  differed 
in  any  thing  from  the  most  avowed  tyrants,  but  be- 
cause they  had  no  other  resource. 

During  these  transactions,  the  Carthaginians,  who 


•  Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  453.  «  Corfu. 

•  Li».  Decad.  I.  ».  c.  28.    Diod.  1.  xiv.  p.  207. 

«  Mo«  ermt  eiritali«.  velut  publico  latrooinio.  partam  pr»- 
damdividerc.  Fort?  eo  anno  in  summo  magistral u  era t  Ti- 
masitheus qnidam.  Romania  vir  similior  quam  sui»  :  qui  'o- 
gaturum  nomen,  dmiumqne,  et  deom  cui  mitteretnr.  el  doni 
cat)  ram  veritus  ipa*.  mnltitudiiipm  quoque,  naif  semper  fer- 
md  regenti  eft  similis.  reli'ionis  justK  impleTit;  artdueio*. 
que  in  puhlir.um  hocpilium  legato*  rum  pnexidio  eliam  nuvi- 
urn  Dclpho*  |.roMcutos,  Romam  inde  «o»|  ilc«  re«tiiuit  Ho*- 
pilium  cum  eo  senatuscontullo  est  faclum,  donaque  public* 
data.  Tit.  Lit. 

i  Timaiitheu*  signifies  one  who  honourt  the  foil. 

•  Diod.  J   XTI.  p.  459  et  464     Plut.  in  Timol.  p.  838  • 
943. 


404 


HISTORY  O* 


«vcre  almost  always  at  war  with  the  Syracusans,  ha- 
ving; arrived  in  Sicily  with  a  great  fleet,  had  already 
made  a  great  progress  there.  The  Sicilians  and  the 
people  of  Syracuse  resolved  to  send  an  embassy  into 
Greece,  to  demand  aid  of  the  Corinthians,  from  whom 
the  S \racusans  were  descended,  and  who  had  alwa\g 
openly  declared  against  tyrants  in  favour  of  liberty. 
Iretas,  who  proposed  no  other  end  from  his  command 
than  to  make  himself  master  of  Syracuse,  and  had  no 
thoughts  of  setting  it  free,  treated  secretly  with  the 
Carthaginians,  though  in  public  he  affected  to  praise 
the  wise  measures  of  the  Syracusans,  and  even  sent 
his  deputies  along  with  theirs. 

Corinth  received  .the  ambassadors  perfectly  well, 
decieed  that  aid  should  be  sent  to  the 

A.  M.  3655.  Syracusans,  and  immediately  appoint- 
Ant.  J.  C.349.  ed  Timoleon  general.  He  had  led  a 
retired  life  for  twenty  years,  without 
interfering  in  public  affairs,  and  was  far  from  believing 
that  at  his  age,  and  in  the  circumstances  he  then  was, 
he  should  be  thought  on  upon  such  an  occasion. 

He  was  descended  from  one  of  the  noblest  families 
of  Corinth,  loved  his  country  passionately,  and  dis- 
covered upon  all  occasions  a  singular  humanity  of 
temper,  except  against  tyrants  and  bad  men.  He  was 
an  excellent  captain;  and  as  in  his  youth  he  had  pos- 
sessed all  the  maturity  of  age,  in  age  he  had  all  the 
fire  and  courage  of  the  most  ardent  youth. 

He  had  an  elder  brother  called  Timophanes,  whom 
he  tenderly  loved,  as  he  had  demonstrated  in  a  bat- 
tle, in  which  he  covered  him  with  his  body,  and  saved 
his  life  at  the  great  danger  of  his  own ;  but  his  coun- 
try was  still  dearer  to  him.  That  brother  having 
made  himself  tyrant  of  it,  so  black  a  crime  gave  him 
'.he  sharpest  affliction.  He  made  use  of  all  possible 
means  to  bring  him  back  to  hi*  duty;  kindness,  friend- 
ship, affection,  remonstrances,  and  even  menaces. 
But  finding  all  his  endeavours  ineffectual,  and  that 
nothing  could  prevail  upon  a  heart  abandoned  to  am- 
bition, he  caused  his  brother  to  be  assassinated  in  his 
presence  by  two  of  his  friends  and  intimates,  and 
thought  that,  upon  such  an  occasion,  the  laws  of  na- 
ture ought  to  give  place  to  those  of  his  country. 

Thai  action  was  admired  and  applauded  by  the 
principal  citiiens  of  Corinth,  and  bv  most  of  the  phi- 
losophers, who  looked  upon  it  as  the  most  noble  ef- 
fort of  human  virtue;  and  Plutarch  seems  to  pass  the 
same  judgment  upon  it.  All  the  world  were  not  of 
that  opinion,  and  some  people  reproached  him  as  an 
abominable  parricide,  who  could  not  fail  of  drawing 
down  the  vengeance  of  the  gods  upon  himself.  His 
mother  especially,  in  the  excess  of  her  grief,  uttered 
the  mostdreadfuf  curses  and  imprecations  against  him; 
and  when  he  came  to  console  her,  not  being  able  to 
bear  the  sight  of  her  son's  murderer,  she  thrust  him 
•way  with  indignation,  and  shut  herdoors  against  him. 

He  was  then  struck  with  all  the  horror  of  his  guilt, 
tnd  giving  himself  up  to  the  most  bitter  remorse,  con- 
sidered Timophanes  no  longer  as  a  tyrant,  but  as  a 
brother,  and  resolved  to  put  an  end  to" his  life,  by  ab- 
staining from  all  nourishment.  It  was  with  great  dif- 
ficulty his  friends  dissuaded  him  from  that  fatal  reso- 
lution. Overcome  bv  their  prayers  and  entreaties,  he 
was  at  length  prevailed  upon  to  live;  but  he  con- 
demned himself  to  pa«s  the  rest  of  his  days  in  soli- 
tude. From  that  moment  he  renounced  all  public 
affairs,  and  for  several  years  never  came  to  the  city, 
but  wandered  about  in  the  most  solitary  and  desert 
places,  abandoned  to  excess  of  grief  and  melancholy. 
So  true  it  is,  that  neither  the  praises  of  flatterers,  nor 
the  false  reasonings  of  politicians,  can  suppress  the 
cries  of  conscience,  which  is  at  once  the  witness, 
judge,  and  executioner  of  those  who  dare  to  violate 
the  most  SHrred  rights  and  ties  of  nature! 

He  passed  twentv  years  in  this  condition.  He  did 
indeed  return  to  Corinth  at  the  latter  part  of  that 
time,  but  lived  there  always  private  and  retired,  with- 
out con  -ernfng  himself  with  the  administration  of  the 
povernt  lent.  It  was  not  without  great  repuarnance 
that  he  accepted  the  employment  of  general,  but  he 
did  not  .hink  it  allowable  to  refuse  the  service  of  his 
country,  and  hi«  duty  prevailed  against  his  inclination. 

\Vhilit  Timoleon  assembled  his  troops,  and  was 


preparing  to  sail,  the  Corinthians  received  letters 
from  Icetas,  in  which  he  told  them,  ••  That  it  WHS  not 
necessary  for  them  to  make  any  further  levies,  nor  to 
exhaust  themselves  in  great' expenses  to  come  to  Si 
cily,  and  expose  themselves  to  evident  danger;  that 
the  Carthaginians,  apprised  of  their  design,  were  wait- 
ing to  intercept  their  squadron  in  its  passage  with  a 
great  fleet:  and  that  their  slowness  in  sending  tht-ir 
troops,  had  obliged  him  to  call  in  the  Carthaginians 
themselves  to  his  aid,  and  to  make  use  ottlum  against 
the  tyrant."  He  had  made  a  secret  treaty  with  them, 
by  which  it  was  stipulated,  that  after  the  expulsion 
of  Dionysius  from  Syracuse,  he  should  take  posses- 
sion of  it  in  his  place. 

The  reading  of  these  letters,  far  from  cooling  th« 
zeal  of  the  Corinthians,  only  incensed  them  still 
more,  and  hastened  the  departure  of  Timolton.  He 
embarked  with  ten  galleys,  and  arrived  safe  upon  the 
coast  of  Italy:  here  the  news  that  came  from  Sicily 
extremely  perplexed  him,  and  discouraged  his  troops. 
An  account  was  brought,  that  Icetas  had  defeated 
Dionysius;  and  having  made  himself  master  of  the 
greatest  part  of  Syracuse,  had  obliged  the  tyrant  to 
shut  himself  up  in  the  citadel,  and  in  that  quarter 
called  the  hie,  where  he  besieged  him;  and  that  he 
had  given  orders  to  the  Carthaginians  to  prevent  Ti- 
moleon's  approach  and  landing,  that  they  might  make 
a  peaceable  partition  of  Sicily  between  them,  when 
they  should  nave  compelled  that  general  to  retire. 

And  indeed  the  Carthaginians  had  sent  twenty 
galleys  to  Rhegium.  The  Corinthians  upon  their  ar- 
rival at  that  port,  found  ambassadors  from  Icetas,  who 
declared  to  Timoleon,  that  he  might  come  to  Syra- 
cuse, and  would  be  well  received  there,  provided  he 
dismissed  his  troops.  The  proposal  was  an  absolute 
insult,  and  at  the  same  time  more  perplexing.  It 
seemed  impossible  to  beat  the  vessels  which  the  bar- 
barians had  caused  to  advance  to  intercept  them  in 
their  passage,  being  twice  their  force;  and  to  retire, 
was  to  abandon  to  extreme  distress  the  whole  of  Si- 
cily, which  could  not  avoid  being  the  reward  of  Ice- 
tas's  treasurv,  and  of  the  support  which  the  Cartha 
ginians  should  give  the  tyranny. 

In  this  delicate  conjuncture,  Timoleon  demanded  a 
conference  with  the  ambassadors,  and  the  principal 
officers  of  the  Carthaginian  squadron,  in  the  pn-senc« 
of  the  people  of  Rhegium.  It  was  only,  he  said,  te 
exhonerate  himself,  and  for  his  own  security,  that  \ri 
country  might  not  accuse  him  of  having  disobeyed 
its  orders,  and  betrayed  its  interests.  There  was  • 
secret  understanding  between  him  and  the  governoi 
and  magistrates  of  Rhegium.  They  desired  nothins 
more  than  to  see  the  Corinthians  in  possession  of 
Sicily,  and  apprehended  nothing  so  much  a«  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  barbarians.  They  summoned 
therefore  an  assembly,  nnd  shut  the  gates  of  the  city, 
upon  pretence  of  preventing  the  citiiens  from  going 
abroad,  in  order  that  they  might  devote  their  atten- 
tion solely  to  the  present  affair. 

The  penple  being  assembled,  long  speeches  were 
made  of  little  or  no  tendency,  every  body  treating  the 
same  subject,  and  repeating  the  same  reasons,  or  ad- 
ding new  ones,  only  to  protract  the  council,  and  to 
gain  time.  Whilst  this  was  doing,  nine  of  the  Co- 
rinthian galleys  went  off,  and  were  suffered  by  the 
Carthaginian  vessels  to  pass,  believing  that  their  de- 
parture had  been  concerted  with  their  own  officers 
who  were  in  the  city,  and  that  those  nine  galleys 
were  to  return  to  Corinth,  the  tenth  remaining  to 
carry  Timoleon  to  Icetas's  armv  at  Syracuse.  \Vt,en 
Timoleon  was  informed  in  a  whisper  that  his  galleys 
were  at  sea,  he  slipped  gently  through  the  crowd, 
which,  to  favour  his  going  off,  thronged  exceedingly 
around  the  tribunal.  He  got  to  the  sea-side,  em- 
barked directly;  and  having  rejoined  his  gallevs,  they 
arrived  together  at  Tauromeniiim,  a  city  of"  Sicily, 
where  they  were  received  with  open  arms  bv  Andro- 
machu«,  w:ho  commanded  it,  and  who  joined  his  citi- 
zen' with  the  Corinthian  troop,  to  reinstate  the  Sici- 
lian* in  their  liberties. 

It  is  easy  to  comprehend  how  much  the  Carthagi- 
nians were  surprised  and  ashamed  of  being  so  lie- 
ceived:  but,  as  somebody  told  them,  bring  Phmni- 


DIOXYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER. 


405 


cmns(who  passed  for  the  greatest  cheats  in  the  worliJ,) 
fraud  and  artifice  ought  not  to  give  them  so  much 
astonishment  HIM!  displeasure. 

Upon  the  news  of  Timoleon's  arrival,  Icetas  was 
terrified,  and  made  the  greatest  part  of  the  Carthagi- 
nian galleys  advance.  They  had  150  long  ships,  50,- 
000  foot,  and  300  armed  chariots.  The  Syracusans 
lost  nil  hope  when  they  saw  the  Carthaginians  in  pos- 
session of  the  port,  Iretas  master  of  the  c ity,  Dionv- 
sius  blocked  up  in  the  citadel,  and  Timoieon  with- 
out anv  other  hold  in  Sicilv  than  a  nook  of  its  coast, 
the  small  city  of  Tauromenium,  with  little  hope  and 
less  force;  for  his  troops  did  not  amount  in  all  to 
more  than  1000  soldiers,  and  he  had  scarce  provision 
for  thf-irsubsistence.  Besides  which,  the  cities  placed 
no  confidence  in  him.  The  ills  they  had  lately  suf- 
fered from  the  extortion  and  cruelty  that  had  been 
practised  amongst  them,  had  exasperated  them  against 
all  commanders  of  troops,  especially  after  the  horrid 
treachery  of  Callippus  and  Pharax;  who  being  both 
•ent,  the  one  from  Athens,  and  the  other  from  Sparta, 
tc  free  Sicily  and  expel  the  tyrants,  made  them  con- 
ceive the  tyranny  gentle  and  desirable,  so  severe 
were  the  vexations  with  which  they  had  oppressed 
them.  They  were  afraid  of  experiencing  the  same 
treatment  from  Timoleon. 

The  inhabitants  of  Adranon,  a  small  city  below 
mount  ./Etna,  being  divided  amongst  themselves,  one 
party  had  called  in  Icetas  and  the  Carthaginians,  and 
the  other  had  applied  to  Timoleon.  The  two  chiefs 
arrived  almost  at  the  same  time  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Adranon:  the  former  with  near  5000  men, and  the 
other  with  only  1200.  Notwithstanding  this  inequali- 
ty, Tiinoleoii,  who  justly  conceived  that  he  should 
find  the  Carthaginians  in  disorder,  and  employed  in 
taking  up  thtirquarters  and  pitching  theirtents,  made 
his  troops  advance,  and  without  losing  time  to  rest 
them,  as  the  oflicers  advised  him,  he  marched  direct- 
ly to  charge  the  enemy,  who  no  sooner  saw  him  than 
they  took  to  flight.  This  occasioned  their  killing 
only  300,  and  taking  twice  as  many  prisoners;  but  the 
Carthaginians  lost  their  camp,  and  all  their  baggage. 
The  Adranitts  opened  their  gates  at  the  same  time, 
and  received  Timoleon.  Other  cities  sent  their  depu- 
ties to  him  soon  after,  and  made  their  submission. 

Dionysiu?  himself,  who  renounced  his  vain  hope*, 
and  saw  himself  at  the  point  of  being  reduced,  as  full 
of  contempt  for  Icetas,  who  had  suffered  himself  to 
be  so  shamefully  defeated,  as  of  admiration  and  esteem 
for  Timoleon,  sent  ambassadors  to  the  latter,  to  treat 
of  surreiult -riuy  himself  and  the  citadel  to  the  Corin- 
thians. Timoleon,  taking  advantage  of  so  unexpect- 
ed a  good  fortune,  made  Euclid  and  Telemachtis,  two 
Corinthian  officers,  with  400  soldiers^  file  off  into  the 
castle,  not  all  nt  once,  nor  in  the  day  time,  that  being 
impossible,  the  Carthaginians  being  masters  of  the 
harbour,  but  in  small  bodies,  and  by  stealth.  Those 
troops,  having  got  successfully  into  the  citadel,  took 
possession  of  it  with  all  the  tyrant's  effects,  and  all 
the  stpres  he  had  laid  up  there.  For  he  had  a  consi- 
derable number  of  horse,  all  sorts  of  warlike  engines 
and  darts,  besides  70,000  suits  of  armour,  which  had 
been  laid  up  there  long  before.  Dionysius  had  also 
2000  regular  troops,  which  with  the  rest  he  surren- 
dered to  Timoleon.  And  for  himself,  taking  with 
nim  his  money  and  some  few  of  his  riends,  he  embark- 
ed unperceived  by  the  troops  of  Icetas,  and  repaired 
to  the  camp  of  Timoleoi). 

It  was  the  first  time  of  his  life  that  he  had  appeared 
in  tho  low  and  abject  state  of  a  private  person  and  a 
suppliant;  he  who  had  been  born  and  nurtured  in  the 
arms  of  the  tyranny,  and  had  seen  himself  master  of 
the  most  pow'erful  kingdom  that  ever  had  been  usurp- 
ed by  tyrants.  He  had  possessed  it  for  ten  whole 
years  before  Dion  took  arms  against  him,  and  for  some 
years  after  that,  though  always  in  the  midst  ot  wars 
and  battles.  He  was  sent  to  Corinth  with  only  one 
galley,  without  convoy,  and  with  ve- 

A.  M,  3657.    ry  little  money.     He  served  there  for 

Ant.  J.  C.  347.  a  sight,  every  body  running  to  gate  fit 

him;  some  with  a  secret  joy  of  heart 

to  feed  their  eyes  with  the  view  of  the  miseries  of  a 

man   whom  the   name  of  tyrant   rendered   odious; 

VOL.  1-59 


others  with  a  kind  of  compassion,  from  comparing  th« 
splendid  condition  from  which  he  had  fallen,  with  the 
unfathomable  abyss  of  distress  into  which  they  beheld 
him  plunged. 

His  conduct  at  Corinth  no  longer  excited  any  sen- 
tiuit-nts  towards  him,  but  those  of  contempt  and  in- 
dignation. He  passed  whole  days  in  the  perfumers' 
shops,  in  taverns,  with  courtesans,  or  with  actressri 
and  singers,  disputing  with  them  upon  the  rules  of 
music  and  the  harmony  of  airs.  Some  people  have 
thought  that  he  behaved  in  such  a  manner  through 
policy,  not  to  give  umbrage  to  the  Corinthians,  nor 
to  suffer  any  thought  or  desire  of  recovering  his  do- 
minions to  be  discovered.  But  such  an  opinion  does 
him  too  much  honour;  and  it  seems  more  probable, 
that  nurtured  and  educated  as  he  was  in  drunkenness 
and  debauchery,  he  only  followed  his  inclination,  and 
that  he  passed  his  life,  in  the  kind  of  slavery  into  wliich 
he  was  falle*,  as  he  had  done  upon  the  throne,  having 
no  othf  r  resource  or  consolation  in  his  misfortunes. 

Some  writers  say, '  that  the  extreme  poverty  to 
which  he  was  reduced  at  Corinth  obliged  him  to  open 
a  school  there,  and  to  teach  children  to  read ;  perhaps, 
says  Cicero8  (without  doubt  jestingly.)  to  retain  still 
a  sprcies  of  empire,  and  not  absolutely  to  renounce 
the  habit  and  pleasure  of  commanding.  Whether 
that  were  his  motive  or  not,3  it  u  certain  that  Diony- 
sius,, who  had  seen  himself  master  of  Syracuse,  and  of 
almost  all  Sicily,  who  had  possessed  immense  riches, 
and  h»d  had  numerous  fleets  and  great  armies  of 
horse  and  foot  under  his  command ;  that  the  same  Di- 
onysius,*  reduced  now  almost  to  beggary,  and  from  a 
king  become  a  schoolmaster,  was  a  good  lesson  foi 
persons  of  exalted  stations,  warning  them  not  to  con- 
Sde  in  their  grandeur,  nor  to  rely  too  much  upon  their 
fortune.  This  was  the  admonition  which  the  Lace- 
daemonians some  time  after  gave  Philip.  That  prince 
having  written  to  them  in  very  haughty  and  mena- 
cing it- rm«,s  they  made  him  no  other  answer,  than  Di- 
onysnit  at  Corintfi. 

An  expression  of  Dionysius  wnicn  na»  jeen  pre- 
served, seems  to  argue  if  it  be  true,  that  he  knew 
how  to  make  a  good  us*  >f  his  adversity,  and  to  turn 
his  misfortunes  to  hisadv  intage;  which  would  be  very 
much  to  his  praise,  but  contrary  to  what  has  been  re- 
lated of  him  before.  Whilst  he  lived  at  Corinth,'  a 
stranger  Rallied  him  unseasonably,  and  with  an  inde- 
cent rudeness,  upon  the  intercourse  which  he  had  kept 
up  with  the  philosophers  during  his  most  splendid  for- 
tune, and  asked  him  by  way  of  insult,  "  Of  what  ad- 
vantage all  llie  wisdom  of  Plato  had  been  to  him?"— 
"  Can  you  believe  then,"  replied  he, "  that  I  have  re- 
ceived no  benefit  from  Plato,  when  you  see  me  bear 
ill  fortune  us  I  do?" 

SECTION  VI.— TIMOLEON,  AFTER  SEVERAL  VIC- 
TORIES, RESTORES  LIBERTY  TO  SYRACUSE,  WHERE 
HK  INSTITUTES  WISE  LAWS.  HE  RESIGNS  HIS  AU- 
THORITY, AND  PASSES  THE  REST  OF  HIS  LIFE  HI 
RETIREMENT.  HIS  DEATH.  HONOURS  PAID  TO 
HJS  MEMORY. 

AFTER  the  retreat  of  Dionysins.7 
Icetas  pressed  the  siege  of  the  citadel  A.  M.  3658 
of  Syracuse  with  the  utmost  vigour,  Ant.  J.  C.  346. 
and  kept  it  so  closely  blocked  up. 
that  the  convoys  sent  to  the  Corinthians  could  not 
enter  it  without*  great  difficulty.  Timoleon,  who  wa« 
at  Catana,  threw  them  in  thither  frequently.  To  de- 
prive them  of  this  resource,  Icetag  and  Mago  set  out 
together  with  design  to  besiege  that  place.  Durinr 
their  absence,  Leon  the  Corinthian,  who  commanded 
in  the  citadel,  having  observed  from  the  ramparts  that 
those  who  had  been  left  to  continue  the  «iege  wer« 
very  remiss  in  their  duty,  made  a  sudden  furious  sal- 


•  Cic.  Tu*c.  Qumt.  1.  iii.  n.  27. 

•  Dionyaiui  Corinthi  pucros  docebat,  u§que  adeo  'mperisi 
carere  non  poterat. 

•  Val.  Max.  I.  vi. 

•  Tsnta  mutatione  majorei  natu,  nequii  minis  foitiMl 
crederet,  macistrr  ludi  fartuiex  tyrannodocoit. 

•  Demel.  I'huler.  de  Elocut.  I.  vi'ii. 

•  Plut.  in  Timol.  p.  243. 

'  Ibid.  p.  243.— 348.    Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  465    474. 


46C 


HISTORY  OF 


fy  upor.  them,  whilst  they  were  dispersed,  killed  part 
of  them,  put  the  rest  to  flight,  and  seized  the  quarter  of 
the  city  called  Achradina,  which  was  the  strongest 
of  it,  and  that  which  had  been  least  injured  by  the 
enemy.  Leon  fortified  it  in  the  best  manner  the  time 
would  admit,  and  joined  it  to  the  citadel  by  works  of 
communication. 

This  bad  news  caused  Mago  and  Icetas  to  return 
immediately.  At  the  same  time  a  body  of  troops 
from  Corinth  landed  safe  in  Sicily,  having  deceived 
the  vigilance  of  the  Carthaginian  squadron,  which 
was  posted  to  intercept  them.  When  they  were 
landed,  Timolson  received  them  with  joy,  and  after 
having  taken  possession  of  Messina,  marched  in  battle 
array  against.. Syracuse.  His  army  consisted  of  only 
4000  men.  When  he  approached  the  city,  his  first 
care  was  to  send  emissaries  amongst  the  soldiers  that' 
bore  arms  for  Icetas.  They  represented  to  them  that 
it  was  highly  shameful  for  Greeks,  as  they  were,  to 
endeavour  to  deliver  up  Syracuse  and  all  Sicily  to  the 
Carthaginians,  the  wickedest  and  most  cruel  of  all 
barbarians:  that  Icetas  had  only  to  join  Timoleon, 
and  that  in  concert  with  him  they  would  soon  over- 
whelm the  common  enemy.  Those  soldiers,  having 
spread  these  insinuations  throughout  the  whole  camp, 
gave  Mago  violent  suspicions  of  his  being  betrayed; 
besides  which,  he  had  already  for  some  time  sought  a 
pretext  to  retire.  For  these  reasons,  notwithstanding 
the  entreaties  and  warm  remonstrances  of  Icetas,  he 
weighed  anchor,  and  set  sail  for  Africa,  shamefully 
abandoning  the  conquest  of  Sicily. 

Timolepn's  army  the  next  day  appeared  before  the 
place  "in  line  of  battle,  and  attacked  it  in  three  dif- 
ferent quarters  with  so  much  vigour  and  success,  that 
Icetas's  troops  were  universally  overthrown  and  put 
to  flight.  Thus,  by  a  good  fortune  that  has  few 
examples,  he  carried  Syracuse  by  force  in  an  instant, 
which  was  at  that  time  one  of  the  strongest  cities  in 
the  world.  When  he  had  made  himself  master  of  it, 
he  did  not  act  like  Dion,  in  sparing  the  forts  and 
public  edifices  on  account  of  their  beauty  and  mag- 
nificence. To  avoid  giving  the  same  cause  of  suspicion, 
which  at  first  had  raised  distrust,  though  without  foun- 
dation, against  that  great  man,  and  at  length  had 
ruined  him,  he  caused  proclamation  to  be  made  by 
sound  of  trumpet,  that  all  Syracusans,  who  would 
come  with  their  tools,  might  employ  themselves  in 
demolishing  the  forts  of  the  tyrants.  In  consequence 
ot  which  the  Syracusans,  considering  that  proclama- 
tion and  day  as  the  happy  commencement  of  their 
liberty,  ran  in  multitudes,  and  not  only  demolished 
the  citadel,  but  the  palaces  of  the  tyrants;  breaking 
open  their  tombs  at  the  game  time,  which  they  also 
threw  down  and  destroyed. 

The  citadel  being  razed,  and  the  ground  made 
level,  Timoleon  caused  tribunals  to  be  erected  upon 
it,  for  the  dispensation  of  justice  in  the  name  of  the 
people;  that  the  same  place  from  whence,  under  the 
tyrants,  every  day  some  bloody  edict  had  issued, 
might  become  the  asylum  and  bulwark  of  liberty  and 
innocence. 

Timoleon  was  master  of  the  city;  but  it  wanted 
people  to  inhabit  it:  for  some  having  perished  in  the 
wars  and  seditions,  and  others  having  fled  to  avoid 
the  power  of  the  tyrants,  Syracuse  was  become  a 
desert,  and  the  grass  was  grown  so  high  in  the  streets, 
that  horses  grazed  in  them.  Almost  all  the  cities  of 
Sicily  were  in  the  same  condition.  Timoleon  and 
the  Syracusans  therefore  found  it  necessary  to  write 
to  Corinth,  to  desire  that  people  might  be  sent  from 
Greece  to  inhabit  Syracuse;  that  otherwise  the  country 
could  never  recover  itself,  especially  as  it  was  more- 
over threatened  with  a  new  war.  For  they  had  receiv- 
ed advice  that  Mago  having  killed  himself,  the  Cartha- 
ginians, enraged  at  his  having  acquitted  himself  so  ill 
of  his  commission,  had  hung  up  his  body  upon  a  cross, 
•nil  were  making  great  levies  to  return  into  Sicily  with 
a  more  numerous  army  at  the  beginning  of  the  year. 

Those  letters  being  arrived  with  the  ambassadors 
from  Syracuse,  who  conjured  the  Corinthians  to  take 
compassion  of  their  city,  and  to  be  a  second  time  the 
founders  of  it;  the  Corinthians  did  not  consider  the 
calamity  of  that  people  as  an  occasioi  of  aggrandizing 


themselves,  and  of  making  themselves  masters  of  the 
city,  according  to  the  maxims  of  a  base  and  infamous 
policy;  but  sending  to  all  the  sacred  games  of  Greece, 
and  to  all  public  assemblies,  they  caused  proclamation 
to  be  made  in  them  by  heralds,- that  the  Corinth laiig 
having  abolished  the  tyranny  in  Syracuse,  and  expelled 
the  tyrants,  declared  free  and  independent  the  Syra> 
cusans,  and  all  the  people  of  Sicily,  who  should  reture 
into  their  own  country;  and  exhorted  them  to  repair 
thither,  to  partake  of  an  equal  and  just  distribution  ot 
the  lands  amongst  them.  At  the.  same  time  they 
despatched  couriers  into  Asia,  and  into  all  the  islet 
whither  great  numbers  of  fugitives  had  retired,  to 
invite  them  to  come  as  soon  as  possible  to  Corin;;h 
which  would  provide  them  vessels,  commanders,  and 
a  safe  convoy,  to  transport  them  into  their  country 
at  its  own  expense. 

Upon  this  proclamation  Corinth  received  universal 
praises  and  blessings,  as  it  justly  deserved.  It  was 
every  where  proclaimed,  that  Corinth  had  delivered 
Syracuse  from  the  tyrants,  had  preserved  it  from 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  barbarians,  and  restored 
it  '  is  citizens.  It  is  not  necessary  to  insist  her* 
upon  the  grandeurof  so  noble  and  generous  an  action: 
the  mere  relation  of  it  must  make  upon  the  mind  of 
every  one  that  impression  that  always  results  from 
what  is  great  and  noble;  and  every  body  must  own, 
that  never  conquest  or  triumph  equalled  the  glory 
which  the  Corinthians  then  acquired  by  so  perfect 
and  magnanimous  a  disinterestedness. 

Those  who  came  to  Corinth,  not  being  sufficiently 
numerous,  demanded  an  addition  of  inhabitants  from 
that  city  and  from  all'  Greece,  to  augment  this  new 
kind  of  colony.  Having  obtained  their  request,  and 
finding  themselves  increased  to  at  least  10,000,  they 
embarked  for  Syracuse,  where  a  multitude  of  people 
from  all  parts  of  Italy  and  Sicily  had  already  joined 
Timoleon.  It  is  said  their  number  amounted  to 
60,000  and  upwards.  Timoleon  distributed  the  lands 
amongst  them  gratis;  but  sold  the  houses,  with 
which  he  raised  a  very  great  sum;  leaving  to  the  old 
inhabitants  the  power  of  redeeming  their  own;  and 
by  this  means  he  collected  a  considerable  fund  to. 
such  of  the  people  as  were  poor,  and  unable  to  sup- 
port either  their  own  necessities  or  the  charges  of 
the  war. 

The  statues  of  the  tyrants,  and  of  all  the  princes 
who  had  governed  Sicily  were  put  up  to  sale;  but 
first  they  were  cited  to  trial,  and  regularly  proceeded 
against  in  due  form  of  law.  One  alone  escaped  the 
rigour  of  this  inquiry,  and  was  preserved;  which  was 
that  of  Gelon,  who  had  gained  a  celebrated  victory 
over  the  Carthaginians  near  Himera,  and  had  governed 
the  people  with  lenity  and  justice;  for  which  his 
memory  was  still  cherished  and  honoured.  If  all 
statues  were  made  to  undergo  the  same  scrutiny,  I  do 
not  know  whether  many  would  continue  in  being. 

History  has  preserved  another  sentence  passed  also 
in  regard  to  a  statue,1  but  of  a  very  different  kind 
The  fact  is  curious,  and  will  excuse  the  digression 
]\  icon,  a  champion  of  Theses*  had  been  crowned  1406 
times  victor  in  the  solemn  games  of  Greece.  A  matt 
of  such  merit  could  not  fan  of  being  envied.  After 
his  death,  one  of  his  competitors  insulted  his  statue 
and  gave  it  several  blows;  to  revenge,  perhaps,  those 
he  had  formerly  received  from  him  it  represented. 
But  the  statue,  as  if  sensible  of  that  outrage,  fell  from 
its  height  upon  the  person  that  insulted  it,  and  killed 
him.  The  son  of  him  who  had  been  crushed  to  death 
proceeded  juridically  against  the  statue,  as  guiXy  of 
homicide,  and  punishable  by  the  law  of  Draco.  That 
famous  legislator  of  Athens,  to  inspire  a  greater 
horror  for  the  guilt  of  murder,  had  ordained  that 
even  inanimate  things  should  be  destroyed,  whose 
fall  should  occasion  the  death  of  a  man.  The  Tha- 
sians,  conformably  to  this  law,  decreed  that  the  statue 
should  be  thrown  into  the  sea.  But  some  years  after 
being  afflicted  with  a  great  famine,  and  having  con 
suited  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  they  caused  it  to  be  taken 
out  of  the  sea,  and  rendered  new  honours  to  it. 


>  Buiciaa  in  NiW*.     Pnuran.  I.  6.  p.  964 
•  An  inland  in  the  JEgean  sea. 


DIONYSIUS  THE  YOUNGER. 


467 


Syracuse  being  thus  raited  in  a  manner  from  the 

rve,  and  people  flocking  from  all  parts  to  inhabit 
fimoleon,  desirous  of  freeing  the  other  cities  of 
Sicily,  and  of  finally  extirpating  tyranny  and  tyrants 
out  of  it,  began  his  march  with  his  army.  He  com- 
pelled Iretas  to  renounce  his  alliance  with  the  Cartha- 
ginians, obliged  him  to  demolish  his  forts,  and  to  live 
as  a  private  person  in  the  city  of  the  Leontines. 
Leptyies,  tyrant  of  Apollonia  and  of  several  other 
cities  and  fortresses,  seeing  himself  in  danger  of  being 
taken  by  force,  surrendered  himself.  Timoleon 
tpared  his  lite,  and  sent  him  to  Corinth.  For  he 
thought  nothing  more  great  and  honourable,  than  to 
let  al  Greece  see  the  tyrants  of  Sicily  in  a  state  of 
humi  :ation  and  living  like  exiles. 

He  returned  afterwards  to  Syracuse,  to  regulate 
the  government,  and  to  institute  such  laws  as  should 
be  most  important  and  necessary,  in  conjunction  with 
Cephalus  and  Dionysius,  two  legislators  sent  to  him 
by  the  Corinthians;  for  he  had  not  the  weakness  to 
desire  unlimited  power,  and  the  sole  administration. 
But  on  his  departure,  that  the  troops  in  his  pay  might 
get  something  for  themselves,  and  to  keep  them  in 
exercise  at  the  same  time,  he  sent  them,  under  the 
command  of  Dinarchus  and  Demaratus,  into  all  the 
places  subject  to  the  Carthaginians.  Those  troops 
brought  over  several  cities  from  the  barbarians,  lived 
always  in  abundance,  made  much  booty,  and  returned 
with  considerable  sums  of  money,  which  was  of  great 
service  in  the  support  of  the  war. 

About  this  time,1  the  Carthaginians  arrived  at  Lily- 
baeum,  under  Asdrubal  and  Amilcar,  with  an  army  of 
70,1'JO  men,  200  ships  of  war.  and  1000  transports, 
(aden  with  machines,  armed  chariots,  horses,  amu- 
iiticn,  and  provisions.  They  proposed  no  less  than 
the  entire  expulsion  of  the  Greeks  out  of  Sicily. 
Timuleon  did  not  think  fit  to  wait  their  advancing; 
»nd  though  he  could  raise  only  6  or  7000  men,  so 
great  was  the  people's  terror,  he  marched  with  that 
imall  body  of  troops  against  the  formidable  army  of 
the  enemy,  and  obtained  a  celebrated  victory  near 
the  river  Crimesus;  an  account  of  which  may  be 
found  in  the  history  of  the  Carthaginians.  Timoleon 
returned  to  Syracuse  amidst  shouts  of  joy  and  uni- 
versal applauses. 

He  had  before  effected  the  conquest  and  reduction 
of  the  Sicilian  tyrants,  but  had  not  changed  them, 
nor  taken  from  them  their  tyrannical  disposition. 
They  united  together,  and  formed  8  powerful  league 
against  him.  Timoleon  immediately  took  the  field, 
and  soon  put  a  final  end  to  their  hopes.  He  made 
them  all  sutler  the  just  punishment  their  revolt  de- 
served. Ic.etas,  amongst  others,  with  his  son.  were 
put  to  death  as  tyrants  and  traitors.  His  wife  and 
daughters,  having  been  sent  to  Syracuse  and  brought 
before  the  assembly  of  the  people,  were  also  sentenced 
to  die,  and  executed  accordingly.  The  people,  with- 
out doubt,  designed  to  avenge  Dion,  their  first  de- 
liverer, by  that  decree.  For  it  was  the  same  Icetas 
("ho  had  caused  Arete,  Dion's  wife,  his  sister  An-to- 
thache,  and  his  son  an  infant,  to  be  thrown  into 
the  sea. 

Virtue  is  seldom  or  never  without  those  who  envy 
it.  Two  accusers  summoned  Timoleon  to  answer  for 
nig  conduct  before  the  judges;  and  having  assigned 
him  a  certain  day  for  his  appearance,  demanded 
•uretieg  of  him.  The  people  expressed  great  indig- 
nation against  such  a  proceeding,  and  would  have 
dispensed  with  so  great  a  man's  observing  the  usual 
formalities;  this,  however,  he  strongly  opposed, 
giving  for  his  reason,  that  all  he  had  undertaken  had 
no  other  principle,  than  that  the  laws  might  have 
their  due  course.  He  was  accused  of  malversation 
during  his  command  of  the  army.  Timoleon,  without 
giving  himself  the  trouble  to  refute  those  calumnies, 
only  replied:  "That  he  thanked  the  gods,  for  that 
they  had  heard  his  prayers,  and  that  he  at  length 
saw  the  Syracusans  enjoy  an  entire  liberty  of  saying 
every  thing;  a  liberty'  absolutely  unknown  to  them 
under  the  tyrants,  but  which  it  wag  juit  to  confine 
within  due  bounds." 

That  great  man  had  given  Syracuse  wise  laws,  had 


»  Pint,  iu  Timol   p.  248.  SIS. 


purged  all  Sicily  of  the  tyrants  which  had  so  long 
infested  it,  had  re-established  peace  and  security 
universally,  and  supplied  the  cities  ruined  by  the  war 
with  the  means  of  re-instating  themselves.  Affr 
such  glorious  actions,  which  had  acquired  him  an 
unbounded  credit,  he  voluntarily  quitted  his  authority 
to  live  in  retirement.  The  Syracnsans  had  given  him 
the  best  house  in  the  city,  in  gratitude  for  his  great 
services,  and  another  very  fine  and  agreeable  one  in 
the  country,  where  he  generally  resided  with  his  wife 
and  children,  whom  he  had  sent  for  from  Corinth; 
for  he  did  not  return  thither,  and  Syracuse  was  be- 
come his  country.  He  had  the  prudence  by  resigning 
every  thing  to  shelter  himself  also  entirely  from  envy, 
which  never  fails  to  attend  exalted  stations,  and  pay* 
no  respect  to  merit,  however  great  and  substantial. 
He  shunned  the  rock  on  which  the  greatest  men, 
through  an  insatiate  lust  of  honours  and  power,  are 
often  shipwrecked;  that  is,  by  engaging  to  the  end 
of  their  lives  in  new  cares  and  troubles,  of  which  age 
renders  them  incapable,  and  by  choosing  rather  to 
sink  under,  than  to  lay  down,  the  weight  of  them.* 

Timoleon,  who  knew  all  the  value  of3  a  noble  and 
glorious  leisure,  acted  in  a  different  manner.  He 
passed  the  rest  of  his  life  as  a  private  person,  enjoy- 
ing the  grateful  satisfaction  of  seeing  so  many  citieg, 
and  such  a  numerous  people,  indebted  to  him  for 
their  happiness  and  tranquillity.  But  he  was  alwayi 
respected,  and  consulted  as  the  common  oracle  of 
Sicily.  Neither  treaty  of  peace,  institution  of  law, 
division  of  land,  nor  regulation  of  government, 
seemed  well  done,  if  Timoleon  had  not  been  con- 
sulted, and  put  the  last  hand  to  it. 

His  age  was  tried  with  a  very  sensible  affliction, 
which  he  supported  with  astonishing  patience;  it 
was  the  loss  of  sight.  That  accident,  far  from  lessen- 
ing the  consideration  and  regard  of  the  people  towards 
him,  served  only  to  augment  them.  The  Syracusans 
did  not  content  themselves  with  paying  him  frequent 
visits,  they  conducted  all  strangers,  both  in  town  and 
country,  to  see  their  benefactor  and  deliverer.  When 
they  had  any  important  affair  to  deliberate  upon 
in  the  assembly  of  the  people,  they  called  him  in  to 
their  assistance;  he  came  thither  in  a  chariot  drawn 
by  two  horses,  went  through  the  public,  square  to  the 
theatre;  and  in  that  manner  was  introduced  into  the 
assembly,  amidst  the  shouts  and  acclamations  of  joy 
of  the  whole  people.  After  he  had  given  his  opinion, 
which  was  always  religiously  observed,  big  domestics 
re-conducted  him  across  the  theatre,  and  he  wat 
escorted  by  all  the  citizens  beyond  the  gates,  with 
continual  shouts  of  joy  and  clapping  of  hands. 

He  had  still  greater  honours  paid  to  him  after  his 
death.  Nothing  was  wanting  that  could  add  to  the 
magnificence  ot  the  procession  which  followed  his 
bier,  of  which  the  noblest  ornaments  were  the  tears 
that  were  sii»,J,  and  the  blessings  uttered  by  every 
body  in  honour  01  in*  p»niory.  Those  tears  were 
neither  the  effect  of  custom  and  the  formality  of 
mourning,  nor  exacted  by  a  public  decree,  but  flowed 
from  a  native  source,  and  sprung  from  sincere  affec- 
tion, lively  gratitude,  and  inconsolable  sorrow.  A 
law  was  also  made,  that,  annually,  for  the  future, 
upon  the  day  of  his  death,  musical  and  gymnastic 
games  should  be  celebrated,  and  horse-races  run  in 
honour  of  him.  But  what  wag  still  more  honourable 
for  the  memory  of  that  great  man,  was  the  decree  of 
the  Syracnsan  people;  that  whenever  Sicily  should 
be  engaged  in  a  war  with  foreigners,  they  should 
send  to  Corinth  for  a  general. 

I  do  not  know  that  we  discover  in  history  anj 
thing  more  great  and  accomplished  than  what  we  are 
told  of  Timoleon.  I  speak  not  only  of  his  military 
exploits  and  the  happy  success  of  all  his  undertakings. 
Plutarch  observes  a  characteristic  in  them,  which 
distinguishes  Timoleon  from  all  the  great  men  of  his 
times;  and  he  makes  use,  upon  that  occasion,  of  a 
vt  ry  remarkable  comparison.  There  are,  says  he,  in 
painting  and  poetry,  pieces  which  are  excellent  in 
themselves,  and  which  at  the  first  view  mar  be  known 
to  be  the  works  of  a  master;  but  some  of  them  denots) 


•  Malunl  deficere,  quara  dt-ninere. 

*  Otium  cum  dif  Dilate.     Cic 


468 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


their  having  cost  abundance  of  pains  and  application; 
whert  as  in  others,  an  easy  and  native  grace  is  seen, 
which  adds  exceedingly  to  their  value;  and  amongst 
the  latter  he  places  the  poems  of  Homer.  Something 
of  this  sort  occurs,  he  goes  on,  when  we  compare  the 
great  actions  of  Epaminondas  and  Agesilaus  with 
those  of  Timoleon.  In  the  former,  we  find  them 
executed  with  force  and  innumerable  difficulties;  but 
in  the  latter  there  is  an  easiness  and  facility,  which 
distinguishes  them  as  the  work,  not  of  fortune,  but  of 
virtue,  which  fortune  seems  to  have  taken  pleasure 
in  seconding.  It  is  Plutarch  who  still  speaks. 

But  not  to  mention  the  military  actions  of  Timo- 
leon, what  I  admire  most  in  him,  is  his  warm  and 
disinterested  passion  for  the  public  good,  reserving 
for  himself  only  the  pleasure  of  seeing  others  happy 
by  his  services;  his  extreme  remoteness  from  ambi- 
tion and  haughtiness;  his  honourable  retirement  into 
the  country;  his  modesty,  moderation,  and  indif- 
ference for  the  honours  paid  him;  and,  what  is  still 
more  uncommon,  his  aversion  for  all  flattery,  and 
even  just  praises.  When  somebody  extolled,  in  his 
presence,  his  wisdom,  valour,  and  the  glory  he  had 
acquired  in  having  expelled  the  tyrants,  he  made  no 
answer,  but  that  he  thought  himself  obliged  to  express 
his  gratitude  to  the  gods,  in  that,  having  decreed  to 
restore  peace  and  liberty  to  Sicily,  they  had  vouch- 
safed  to  make  choice  of  him  in  preference  to  all  others 
for  so  honourable  an  office:  for  he  was  fully  persua- 
ded that  all  human  events  are  guided  and  disposed  by 


the  secret  decrees  of  Divine  Providence.1  What  a 
treasure,  what  a  happiness  for  a  state,  is  such  • 
minister! 

for  the  better  understanding  his  value,  we  hav« 
only  to  compare  the  condition  of  Syracuse  under 
Timoleon,  with  its  state  under  the  two  Dionysiuses. 
It  is  the  same  city,  the  same  inhabitants,  ami  the  same 
people:  but  what  a  difference  do  we  perceive  under 
the  different  governments  we  speak  of  !  The  two 
tyrants  had  no  thoughts  but  of  making  themselves 
feared,  and  of  depressing  their  subjects  to  render 
them  more  submissive.  They  were  in  fact  dreacffd, 
as  they  desired  to  be,  but  at  the  same  time  detested 
and  abhorred,  and  had  more  to  fear  from  their  sub- 
ject?, than  their  subjects  from  them.  Timoleon,  on 
the  contrary,  who  looked  upon  himself  as  the  father 
of  the  Syracusan  people,  and  who  had  no  thoughts 
but  of  making  them  happy,  enjoyed  the  refined 
pleasure  of  being  beloved  and  revered  as  a  parent  by 
his  children:  and  he  was  remembered  amongst  them 
with  blessings,  because,  they  could  not  reflect  upon 
the  peace  and  felicity  they  enjoyed,  wilhout  calling 
to  mind,  at  the  same  time,  the  wise  legislator  to 
whom  they  were  indebted  for  those  inestimable 
blessings. 

>  Cum  suits  luuik'H audiret  prtetlii-ari,  nunquam  aliucl  dixit 
quam  sc  in  ea  re  maximus  diis  gratias  agcro  et  liabere,  quod 
cum  Sicilian!  rerrcare  constiluissent,  turn  sc  potis&imum 
duceni  i-.-j.-r  voluissent.  Nihil  eiiim  rerum  hiimunaruin  sine 
deorum  numine  agi  putabat.  Cor.  Jfep.  in  Timol.  c.  i» 


PERSIANS    AND    GRECIANS 


BOOK  XII. 


CHAPTER  ' 

SECTION  I.— STATE  OF  GREECE  FROM  THE  TIME  OF 
THE  TREATY  OF  AISTALCIDAS.  THE  LACEDAEMONI- 
ANS DECLARE  WAR  AGAINST  THE  CITY  OF  OLYN- 
THUS.  THEY  SEIZE  BY  FRAUD  AND  VIOLENCE 
UPON  THE  CITY  OF  THEBES.  OLYNTHUS  SUR- 
RENDERS. 

THE  peace  of  Antalcidas,1  of  which  mention  has 
been  made  in  the  third  chapter  of 

A.  M.  3617.  the  ninth  book,  had  plentifully  scat- 
Ant.  J.C.  387.  tered  among  the  Grecian  states  the 
seeds  of  discontent  and  division.  In 
consequence  of  that  treaty,  the  Thebans  had  been 
obliged  to  abandon  the  cities  of  Boeotia,  and  suffer 
them  to  enjoy  their  liberty;  and  the  Corinthians  to 
withdraw  their  garrison  from  Argos,  which  by  that 
means  became  free  and  independent.  The  Lacedae- 
monians, who  were  the  authors  and  executors  of  this 
treaty,  saw  their  power  extremely  augmented  by  it, 
and  strove  to  make  farther  additions  to  it.  They 
compelled  the  Mantinaeans,  against  whom  they  pre- 
tended to  nave  many  causes  of  complaint  in  the  last 
war,  to  demolish  the  walls  of  their  city,  and  to  inhabit 
four  different  placet,  a*  they  had  done  before. 

*  JUooph  Hiit.  GMM.  .  T  p.  550  551 


The  two  kings  of  Sparta,8  Agesipolis  and  Agesi- 
laus, were  of  quite  different  characters,  and  enter- 
tained equally  different  opinions  upon  the  present  state 
of  affairs.  The  first,  who  was  naturally  inclined  to 
peace  and  a  strict  observer  of  justice,  was  anxious 
that  Sparta,  who  was  already  much  exclaimed  against 
for  the  treaty  of  Antalcidas,  should  suffer  the  Grecian 
cities  to  enjoy  their  liberties,  according  to  the  tenor 
of  that  treaty,  and  not  dlstarb  their  tranquillity 
through  an  unjust  desire  of  extending  her  dominions. 
The  other,  on  the  contrary,  restless,  active  and  full 
of  great  views  of  ambition  and  conquest,  breathed 
nothing  but  war. 

At  the  same  time,  deputies  arrived  at 
Sparta  from  Acanthus  and  Apollonia,  A.  M.  3621. 
two  very  considerable  cities  of  Mace-  Ant.  J.  C.  383, 
donia,  on  the  subject  of  Olynthus,  a 
city  of  Thrace,  inhabited  by  Greeks,  originally  from 
Chalcis  in  Eubcea.  Athens,'  after  the  victories  of 
Salamis  and  Marathon,  had  conquered  many  places  on 
the  side  of  Thrace,  and  even  in  Thrace  itself.  Thos4 
cities  threw  off  the  yoke  as  soon  as  Sparta,  at  the  con* 
elusion  of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  had  ruined  tin 
power  of  Athens.  Olynthus  was  of  this  number 
The  deputies  of  Acanthus  and  Apollonia  represented 


*  Diod. !.  r»  p.  341 


Diod.  I.  xv.  p.  554.  556. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


469 


in  the  general  assemmy  of  th«  allies,  that  Olynthtis. 
situate  in  '.heir  neighbourhood,  daily  improved  in 
strength  in  an  extraordinary  manner;  that  it  perpe- 
tually extended  its  dominions  by  new  conquests;  that 
It  obliged  all  the  cities  round  about  to  submit  to  it, 
and  to  enter  into  it?  measures;  and  was  upon  the 
point  of  concluding  an  alliance  with  the  Athenians 
and  the  Thebans.  The  affair  being  taken  into  con- 
sideration, it  was  unanimously  resolved  that  it  wag 
necessary  to  declare  war  against  the  Olynthians.  It 
was  agreed  that  the  allied  cities  should  furnish  10,- 
000  troops,  with  liberty  to  such  as  desired  it,  to  sub- 
stitute money,  at  the  rate  of  three  oboli  a  day  for  each 
foot  eol'lier,1  and  four  times  as  much  for  the  horse. 
Thf.  Lacedemonians,  to  lose  no  time,  made  their 
troops  march  directly,  under  the  command  of  Etida- 
miiia8,  who  prevailed  with  the  Ephori,  that  Phoebidas, 
his  brother,  might  have  the  leading  of  those  which 
were  to  follow,  and  lo  join  him  soon  after.  When 
be  arrived  in  that  part  of  Macedonia  which  is  also 
called  Thrace,  he  garrisoned  such  places  as  applied 
to  him  for  that  purpose, seized  upon  Potidaea.  a  city  in 
alliance  with  the  Olynthians,  which  surrendered  with- 
out making  any  defence;  and  began  the  war  against 
Olynthus,  though  slowly,  as  was  incumbent  upon  a 
general  whose  troops  were  not  all  assembled. 

Phoebidas  began  his  march  soon  af- 

A.  M.  3622.  ter,*  anj  beinjj  arrived  near  Thebes, 
Ant.  J.  C.  382.  encamped  without  the  walls,  near  the 
Gymnasium  or  public  place  of  exer- 
cise. Ismenius  and  Leontides,  both  polemarchs,  that 
is,  generals  of  the  army,  and  supreme  magistrates  of 
Thebes,  were,  at  the  head  of  two  different  factions. 
The  first,  who  had  engaged  Pelopidas  on  his  side, 
was  no  friend  to  the  Lacedaemonians,  nor  they  to  him; 
because  he  publicly  declared  for  popular  govern- 
ment and  liberty.  The  other  on  the  contrary,  fa- 
voured an  oligarchy,  and  was  supported  by  the  Lace- 
daemonians with  their  whole  interest.  I  am  oblige<l 
to  enter  into  this  detail,  because  the  event  I  am  going 
to  relate,  and  which  was  a  consequence  of  it,  was  the 
occasion  of  the  important  war  between  the  Thebans 
and  the  Lacedemonians. 

This  being  the  state  of  affairs  at  Thebes,  LeontMes 
applied  to  Phoebidas,  and  proposed  to  him  to  seize 
the  citadel  called  Cadmaea,  to  expel  the  adherents 
of  Ismenius,  and  to  give  the  Lacedaemonians  posses- 
sion of  it.  He  represented  to  him,  that  nothing  could 
be  more  glorious  (or  him  than  to  make  himself  master 
of  Thebes,  whilst  his  brother  was  endeavouring  to  re- 
duce Olyntlius:  that  he  would  thereby  facilitate  the 
success  of  his  brother's  enterprise;  and  that  the  The- 
bans, who  had  prohibited  their  citizens  by  decree  to 
bear  arms  against  the  Olynthians,  would  not  fail,  upon 
his  making  himself  master  of  the  citadel,  to  supply 
him  with  whatever  numberof  horse  and  foot  he  should 
think  proper,  for  the  reinforcement  of  Eudamidas. 

Ptxebidw,  who  had  much  ambition  and  little  pru- 
dence, and  who  sought  only  for  an  opportunity  of 
signalizing  himself  by  some  extraordinary  action, 
without  examining  the  consequences, suffered  himself 
to  be  easily  persuaded.  Whilst  the  Thebans,  in  en- 
tire security  and  full  reliance  on  the  treaty  of  peace 
lately  concluded  by  the  Grecian  states,  were  cele- 
brating the  feasts  of  Ceres,  and  expected  nothing  less 
than  such  an  act  of  hostility,  Phoebidas,  conducted 
by  Leontides,  took  possession  of  the  citadel.  The 
•enate  was  then  sitting.  Leontides  went  to  them, 
Bn.l  declared,  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  feared 
from  the  Lacedaemonians  who  had  just  entered  the 
citadel;  that  they  were  only  the  enemies  of  those 
who  wished  to  disturb  the  public  tranquillity;  that  as 
for  himself,  by  the  power  his  office  of  polemarch  gave 
him,  of  confining  whoever  caballed  against  the  state, 
he  should  put  Ismenius  into  a  place  of  securifv,  who 
factiously  endeavoured  to  break  the  peace.  He  wns 
seized  accordingly,  and  carried  to  the  citadel.  The 
party  of  Ismenius,  seeing  their  chief  a  prisoner,  and 
apprehending  the  utmost  violence  for  themselves, 


t  x'-TtTcpt  'p.  356-558.     Plut   in  Aeesil  p.  608,  C09.     Id. 
*Polop  p  310.    Diod.  t  zv  p.  341  343. 


quitted  the  city  with  precipitation  and  retired  ta 
Athens,  to  the  number  of  400  and  upwards.  Thcj 
were  soon  after  banished  by  a  public  decree.  Pelo- 
pid:is  was  of  the  number;  but  Epaminondas  remained 
at  Thebes  unmolested,  being  disregarded,  an  a  man 
entirely  devoted  to  the  study  of  philosophy,  who  did 
not  intermeddle  in  affairs  of  state;  and  also  on  ac- 
count of  his  poverty,  which  left  no  room  to  fear  any 
thing  from  him.  A  new  polemarch  was  nominated 
in  the  room  of  Ismenius,  and  Leontides  went  to  La- 
cedaemon. 

The  news  of  Phoebidas's  enterprise,  who  at  a  tim« 
of  general  peace  had  taken  possession  of  a  cidadel  by 
force,  upon  which  he  had  no  claim  nor  right,  had  oc- 
casioned great  murmurings  and  complaints.  Such 
especially  as  opposed  Agesilaus,  who  was  suspected 
of  having  shared  in  the  scheme,  demanded  by  whose 
orders  Phoebidas  had  committed  so  strange  a  breach 
of  public  faith.  Agesilaus,  who  well  knew  that  those 
warm  reproaches  were  aimed  at  him,  made  no  diffi- 
culty of  justifying  Phoebidas,  and  declaring  openly 
and  before  all  the  world,  "  That  the  action  ought  to  be 
considered  in  itself,  in  order  to  understand  whether 
it  were  useful  or  nut;  that  whatever  was  expedient  for 
Sparta,  he  was  not  only  permitted,  but  commanded 
to  act,  upon  his  own  authority,  and  without  waiting 
the  orders  of  any  body:"  strange  principles  to  be  ad- 
vanced by  a  person  who  upon  other  occasions  had 
maintained,  "That  justice  was  the  first  of  all  virtues; 
and  that  without  it,  valour  itself,  and  every  other 
great  quality,  were  useless  and  unavailing."  It  is  the 
same  man  that  made  answer,  when  somebody  in  his 
presence  magnified  the  king  of  Persia's  grandeur; 
"  He,  whom  you  call  the  great  king,  in  what  is  he 
greater  than  I,  unless  he  be  more  just  1"  a  truly  no- 
ble and  admirable  maxim,  THAT  JUSTICE  MUST  BE 
THE  RULE  OF  WHATEVER  IS  EXCELLENT  AND 
GREAT!  but  a  maxim  that  he  had  only  in  his  mouth, 
and  which  all  his  actions  contradicted;  conformably 
to  the  principle  of  the  generality  of  politicians,  who 
imagine  that  a  statesman  ought  always  to  have  jus- 
tice in  his  mouth,  but  should  never  lose  an  occasion 
of  violating  it  for  the  advantage  of  his  country. 

But  let  us  now  hear  the  sentence  which  the  august 
assembly  of  Sparta,  so  renowned  for  the  wisdom  of 
its  counsels  and  the  equity  of  its  decrees,  is  about  to 
pronounce.  The  affair  being  maturely  considered, 
the  arguments  discussed  at  large,  and  set  in  their  full 
light,  the  assembly  resolved,  that  Phoebidas  should  be 
deprived  ofhiscommand, and  fined  1 00,000(1  rachmas;* 
but  that  they  should  continue  to  hold  the  citadel,  and 
keep  a  strong  garrison  in  it.  What  a  strange  contra 
diction  was  this!  says  Polybius;*  whata  disregard  ol 
all  justice  and  reason !  to  punish  the  criminal,  and  ap- 
prove the  crime;  and  not  only  to  approve  the  crime 
tacitly,  and  without  having  any  share  in  it,  but  to  ra- 
tify it  by  public  authority,  and  continue  it  in  the 
name  of  the  state,  in  order  to  reap  the  advantages 
arising  from  it.  But  this  was  not  all :  commissioners, 
appointed  by  all  the  cities  in  alliance  with  Sparla,  were 
despatched  "to  the  citadel  of  Thebes,  to  try  I<meniu«, 
upon  whom  they  passed  sentence  of  death,  which  was 
immediately  executed.  Such  flagrant  injustice  sel- 
dom remains  unpunished.  To  act  in  such  a  manner. 
SHJS  Poly bius  again,  is  neither  for  one's  country's  in- 
terest, nor  one's  own. 

Teleutias,*  Agesilaus's  brother,  had  been  substi- 
tuted in  the  place  of  Phoebidas  to  command  the  rest 
of  the  troops  of  the  allies  designed  against  Olynthus; 
whither  he  marched  with  all  expedition.  The  city 
was  strong,  and  furnished  with  every  thing  necessary 
to  a  good  defence.  Several  sallies  were  made  wilh 
preat  success,  in  one  of  which  Ttleutias  was  killed. 
The  next  year  king  Agesipolis  had  the  command  of 
the  army.  The  campaign  passed  in  skirmishing, 
without  any  thing  decisive.  Ae;esipolisdied  soon  af- 
ter of  a  disease,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Cle- 
ombrotus,  who  reigned  nine  years. 
About  that  time  began  the  hundredth  A.  M.  3624 
Olympiad.  Sparta  made  fresh  efforts  Ant.  J.  C.330 


•  About  22.000/.  gierlin?.  «  Mb.  iv.  p-  2%. 

•  Xenoph.  1.  v.  p.  559— 5G5.    Diod.  I.  x».  342,  343 

2  P 


4'0 


HISTORY  OF   THE 


to  terminate  the  war  with  the  Olynthians.  Polybi- 
das  iheir  general,  pressed  the  siege  with  vigour.  The 
place  being  in  want  of  provisions  was  at  last  obliged 
lo  surrender,  and  was  received  by  the  Spartans  into 
the  number  of  their  allies. 

SF.CTIOIV  II.— SPARTA'S  PROSPERITY.  CHARAC- 
TER OF  TWO  ILLUSTRIOUS  THEBANS,  EPAM1NON- 
DAS  AND  PELOPIDAS.  THE  LATTER  FOR.MS  THE 
DKS1GN  OF  RESTORING  THE  LIBERTY  OF  HIS 
COUNTRY.  CONSPIRACY  AGAINST  THE  TYRANTS 
WISELY  CONDUCTED,  AND  HAPPILY  EXECUTED. 
THE  CITADEL  IS  RETAKEN. 

The  fortune  of  the  Lacedaemonians  never  appeared 
with  greater  splendour,1  nor  their  power  more  strong- 
y  established.  All  Greece  was  subjected  to  them, 
jther  bv  force  or  alliance.  They  were  in  possession 
of  Thebes,  a  most  powerful  city,  and  with  that  of  all 
Boeot'm.  They  had  found  means  to  humble  Argos,  and 
to  hold  it  in  dependance.  Corinth  was  entirely  at 
their  devotion  and  obeyed  theirordersin  every  thing. 
The  Athenians,  abandoned  by  their  allies,  and  re- 
duced almost  to  their  own  strength,  were  in  no  con- 
dition to  make  head  against  them.  .  If  any  city  or  peo- 
ple in  their  alliance  attempted  to  withdraw  themselves 
from  their  power,  an  immediate  punishment  reduced 
them  to  their  former  obedience,  and  terrified  all  others 
from  following  their  example.  Thus,  masters  by  sea 
and  land,  all  trembled  before  them;  and  the  most  for- 
midable princes,  as  the  king  of  Persia  and  the  tyrant 
of  Syracuse,  seemed  to  emulate  each  other  in  court- 
ing their  friendship  and  alliance. 

A  prosperity  founded  in  injustice  can  be  of  no  long 
duration.  The  blow  that  was  to  shake  the  Spartan 
power,  came  from  the  very  quarter  where  they  ex- 
ercised the  most  unjust  violence,  and  from  whence 
thev  did  not  seem  to  have  any  thing  to  fear;  that  is 
to  say,  from  Thebes.  Two  illustrious  citizens  of  that 
state  will  make  a  glorious  appearance  upon  the  thea- 
tre of  Greece,  and  for  that  reason  deserve  our  notice 
in  this  place. 

These  are  Pelopidas  and  Epaminondas,*  both  de- 
scended from  the  noblest  families  of  Thebes.  Pelo- 
pidas, nurtured  in  the  greatest  affluence,  and  having 
become,  whilst  young,  sole  heir  of  a  very  rich  and 
flourishing  family •  employed  his  wealth,  from  the  first 
possession  of  it,  in  the  relief  of  such  as  had  occasion 
for  it  and  merited  hi?  favour;  showing  in  that  wise 
use  of  his  riches,  that  he  was  really  their  master,  and 
not  their  slave.  For  according  to  Aristotle's  remark, 
repeated  by  Plutarch,8  most  men  make  no  use  at  all 
of  their  fortunes  out  of  avarice,  or  abuse  them  in  bad 
or  trifling  expenses.  As  for  Epaminondas,  poverty 
was  nil  his  inheritance,  in  which  his  honour,  and  one 
might  almost  say,  his  joy  and  delight,  consisted.  He 
was  born  of  poor  parents,  and  consequently  familiar- 
ized from  his  infancy  with  poverty,  which  he  made 
more  grateful  and  easy  to  him  by  his  taste  for  philo- 
sophy. Pelopidas  who  supported  a  great  number  of 
citizens,  never  having  been  able  to  prevail  on  him  to 
accept  his  offers  and  to  make  use  of  his  fortune,  re- 
solved to  share  in  the  poverty  of  his  friend  by  making 
him  his  example,  and  became  the  model  as  well  as  ad- 
miration of  the  whole  city,  from  the  modesty  of  his 
dress  and  the  frugality  of  his  tabl^. 

If  Kpaminondas  was  poor  with  respect  to  the  goods 
of  fortune,*  he  was  amply  recompensed  in  those  of  the 
head  and  heart:  modest,  prudeut,  grave,  skilful  in  ta- 
king advantage  of  favourable  opportunities,  possessing 
in  n  supreme  degree  the  science  of  war,  equally  va 
liani  and  wise,  easy  and  complaisant  in  his  intercourse 
with  the  world,  suffering  with  incredible  patience  the 
ill  treatment  of  the  people,  and  even  of  his  friends, 
uniting  with  his  ardour  for  military  exercises  a  won- 
derful taste  for  study  and  the  sciences,  piquing  him- 
self especially  so  much  upon  truth  and  sincerity,  that 
he  made  a  scruple  of  telling  a  lie  even  in  jest  or  for 
iiiv«  r-ion.  Jldedveritatis  diligent, ut  nejoco  quidcm 
mentiretitr. 


\entiretur. ^ 

»  Xenoph.  p.  565      Oiod  p.  334. 

•  Tlut.  in  Pc.op.  jx  27!>. 

>    T..  iriJ.A.i»,  •'  A>.»   ev   X*»»T»'  T^  vXtvfy  Jii   .«.»{: 

«  Corn.  Ncp  iu  Epam.  c.  iii. 


They  were  both  equally  inclined  to  virtue.*  But 
Pelopidas  was  best  pleased  with  the  exercises  of  the 
sody,  and  Epaminondas  with  the  cultivation  of  the 
mind.  For  which  reason,  thf-y  employed  their  iii-ure, 
the  one  in  the  palaestra  and  the  chase,  and  the  other  in 
conversation  and  the  study  of  philosophy. 

But  what  persons  of  sense  and  judgment  must  prin- 
cipally admire  in  them,  and  which  is  rarely  found 
amongst  those  of  their  high  rank,  is  the  perfect  union 
and  friendship  that  always  subsisted  between  them, 
during  the  whole  time  they  were  employed  together 
in  the  administration  of  the  public  affairs,  whether  in 
war  or  peace.  If  we  examine  the  government  of  Ari- 
stides  and  Themistocles,  that  of  Cimon  and  Pericles, 
of  IVieias  and  Alcibiades,  we  shall  find  them  full  of 
trouble,  dissension  and  debate.  The  two  friends  w« 
speak  of  held  the  first  offices  in  the  state;  all  great  af- 
fairs passed  through  their  hands;  every  thing  was  con- 
5ded  to  their  care  and  authority.  In  such  delicate 
onjunctures,  what  occasions  of  pique  and  jenlousy 
jenerally  arise !  But  neither  difference  of  sentiment, 
diversity  of  interest,  nor  the  least  emotion  of  envy, 
everaltered  their  union  and  good  understanding.  The 
reason  of  which  was,  their  being  founded  upon  an  un- 
alterable principle,  that  is  upon  virtue;  which  in  all 
other  actions,  says  Plutarch,  occasioned  their  having 
neither  glory  nor  riches,  those  fatal  sources  of  strife 
and  division,  in  view,  but  solely  the  public  good,  and 
made  them  desire,  not  the  advancement  or  honour  of 
their  own  families,  but  to  render  their  country  more 
powerful  and  flourishing.  Such  were  the  two  illus- 
trious men  who  are  about  to  make  their  appearance, 
and  to  give  a  new  face  to  the  affairs  of  Greece,  by  the 
reat  events  in  which  they  will  have  a  principal  share 

Leontides  being  apprised   that  the 
exiles  had  retired   to  Athens,6  where        A.  M.  3626 
they  had  been  well  received  by  the    Ant.  J.  C.  378. 
people,  and  much    respected    by  all 
people  of  worth  and  honour,  laid  a  plot  for  secretly 
cutting  them  off,  by  means  of  certain  unknown  peisons, 
whom  he  sent  thither  to  assassinate  the  most  consi- 
derable of  them.     Only  Androchdes  was  killed,  and 
Leontides  failed  in  his  designs  against  all  the  rest. 

At  the  same  time,  the  Athenians  received  lettirs 
from  Sparta,  to  prohibit  their  receiving  or  assisting 
the  exiles,  and  with  orders  to  expel  them  their  city. 
as  persons  declared  to  be  the  common  enemies  of 
Greece  by  all  the  allies.  Humanity,  a  virtue  peculiar 
and  natural  to  the  Athenians,  made  them  reject  so  in- 
famous a  proposal  with  horror.  They  were  transport- 
ed with  the  opportunity  of  expressing  their  gratitude 
to  the  Thebans  for  a  previous  obligation  of  the  same 
nature.  For  the  Thebans  had  contributed  the  most 
to  the  re-establishment  of  the  popular  government  at 
Athens,  having  declared  in  their  favour  by  a  public 
decree,  contrary  to  the  prohibition  of  Sparta;  and  it 
was  from  Thebes,  that  Thrasybulus  had  set  out  to  de« 
liver  Athens  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Thirty. 

Pelopidas,  though  at  that  time  very  young,  went  to 
all  the  exiles  one  after  another,  of  whom  Melon  was 
the  most  considerable.  He  represented  to  them, 
"That  it  was  neither  becoming  nor  just  to  content 
themselves  with  having  saved  their  own  lives,  and 
to  look  with  indifference  upon  their  country,  en- 
slaved and  miserable;  that  whatever  good-will  the 
people  of  Athens  might  express  for  them,  it  was  not 
fit  that  they  should  surfer  their  fate  to  depend  upon 
the  decrees  of  a  people,  which  their  natural  incon- 
stancy, or  the  malignity  of  the  orators  that  turned  (hem 
any  way  at  will,  might  soon  alter:  that  it  was  necessa- 
ry "to  hazard  every  thing,  after  the  example  of  Thrasy- 
b'ulus,  and  to  set  before  themselves  his  intrepid  va- 
lour, and  generous  fortitude  as  a  model;  thnt  us  h« 
set  out  from  Thebes  to  suppress  and  destroy  the  ty- 
rants of  Athens,  so  they  ought  to  go  from  Athens  tc 
restore  to  Thebes  its  ancient  lilxrtv." 

This  discourse  made  all  the  impression  upon  th« 
exiles  that  could  be  expectf-d.  They  sent  privately 
to  inform  their  friend?  »t  Thebes  of  their  resolution. 


•  Plul.  in  Pelop.  p.  279. 


ut.  in  Pelop.  p.  270. 

pnnnh.  Hist.  Or.  1.  v.  p.  566—568.  Plut.  in  Pjlop.  p. 
SU.  In.  He  Swrat  Gen.  p.  580-588.  ct  5'.>4— 598 
1.  xv.  p.  344—340.  Cor.  Nep.  in  Pelop.  c.  i  -i». 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


471 


vho  extremely  approved  their  design.  Charon,  one 
of  tits  principal  ptrsons  in  the  city,  offered  to  receive 
the  conspirators  into  his  house.  Philidas  found  means 
to  get  himself  made  secretary  to  Archias  and  Philip, 
who  were  then  polemarchs  or  supreme  magistrates 
of  the  city.  As  for  Kpaminondas,  he  had  tnr  some 
time  diligently  endeavoured  to  inspire  the  younger 
Thelians  by  his  discourse  r;ith  a  passionate  desire  to 
throw  off  the  Spartan  yoke.  He  was  ignorant  of  no- 
thing that  had  been  projected,1  but  he  believed  that 
he  ought  not  to  have  any  share  in  it,  because,  as  he 
said,  he  could  not  resolve  to  imbrue  his  hands  in  the 
blood  of  his  countrymen;  foreseeing  that  his  friends 
would  not  keep  within  the  due  bounds  of  the  enter- 
prise however  lawful  in  itself,  and  that  the  tyrants 
would  not  perish  alone;  and  convinced  besides,  that 
•  citizen,  who  should  not  appear  to  have  taken  either 
tide,  would  have  it  in  his  power  to  make  a  more  pow- 
erful impression  upon  the  minds  of  the  people. 

The  day  for  the  execution  of  the  project  being 
fixed,  the  exiles  thought  proper  that  Pherenicus, 
havng  assembled  all  the  conpsirators,  should  stop  at 
Thiiasium,  a  little  town  not  far  from  Thebes,  and 
that  a  small  number  of  the  youngest  of  them  should 
venture  into  the  city.  Twelve  persons  of  the  best 
families  of  Thebes,  all  united  by  a  strict  and  faithful 
friendship  with  each  other,  though  competitors  for 
glory  and  honour,  offered  themselves  for  this  bold 
enterprise.  Pelopidas  was  of  this  number.  After 
having  embraced  their  companions,  and  despatched  a 
messenger  to  Charon,  to  give  him  notice  of  their  co- 
ming, they  set  out  dressed  in  mean  habits,  carrying 
hounds  with  them,  and  poles  in  their  hands  for  pitch- 
ing of  tents;  that  such  as  they  met  on  the  way  might 
have  no  suspicion  of  them,  and  take  them  only  for 
hunters  that  had  wandered  after  their  game. 

Their  messenger  being  arrived  at  Thebes,  and  ha- 
ving informed  Charon  that  they  were  set  out,  the 
approach  of  danger  did  not  alter  his  sentiments;  and 
as  he  wanted  neither  courage  nor  honour,  he  pre- 
pared his  house  for  their  reception. 

One  of  the  conspirators,  who  was  not  a  bad  man, 
who  even  loved  his  country,  and  would  have  served 
the  exiles  with  all  his  power,  hut  had  neither  the  re- 
solution nor  constancy  necessary  for  such  an  enter- 
prise, and  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  difficulties 
and  obstacles  that  presented  themselves  in  crowds  to 
his  imagination,  appalled  with  the  prospect  of  dan- 
ger, retired  to  his  house  without  saying  any  thing, 
and  despatched  one  of  his  friends  to  Melon  and  Pelo- 
piclas,  to  desire  them  to  defer  their  enterprise,  and 
return  to  Athens,  there  to  await  a  more  favourable 
opportunity.  Happily,  that  friend,  not  finding  his 
horse's  bridle,  and  losing  a  great  deal  of  time  in  quar- 
reling with  his  wife,  was  prevented  from  going. 

Pel  ipidag  and  his  companions,  disguised  like  pea- 
sants, having  separated  from  each  other,  entered  the 
city  at  different  gates  towards  the  close  of  day.  As 
it  was  then  early  in  the  winter,  the  north  wina  blew, 
and  the  snow  fell;  which  served  the  better  to  con- 
ceal them,  every  body  keeping  within  doors  on  ac- 
count of  the  co'ld  weather;  which  gave  them  like- 
wise a  pretext  for  covering  their  faces.  Some  who 
were  in  the  secret,  received  and  conducted  them  to 
Charon's  house;  where,  of  exiles  and  others,  their 
whole  number  amounted  to  forty-eight. 

Philidas,  secretary  to  the  Boeotarchs,*  who  was  in 
the  plot,  hail  some  time  before  invited  Archias  and  his 
companions  to  supper  on  that  very  day,  promising  them 
an  exquisite  repast,  and  the  company  of  some  of  the 
finest  women  in  the  city.  The  guests  being  met  at  the 
appointed  time,  they  sat  down  to  table.  They  had 
circulated  the  glass,  and  were  almost  drunk,  when  it 
was  whispered  about,  but  not  known  where  the  report 
be^an,  that  the  exiles  were  in  the  city.  Philidas, 
without  showing  any  concern,  did  hi?  utmost  to  change 
the  discourse.  Archias,  however,  sent  one  of  hi* 
officers  to  Charon,  with  orders  to  come  to  him  im- 


i  Pint,  de  Gen.  Soerat.  p.  504. 

•  The  magistrates  and  general*  who  were  rharsrcd  with 
the  foVPrnment  of  Thehes,  were  railed  Boeutarchi,  that  u  to 
My  sommaiidei I  IT  governor  of  B<Eotia. 


mediately.  It  was  now  late,  and  Pelopidas  and  the 
conspirators  were  preparing  to  set  out,  and  had  put 
on  their  armour  and  swords,  when,  on  a  sudden,  they 
heard  a  knocking  at  the  door.  Somebody  went  to  it, 
and  being  told  by  the  officer,  that  he  was  come  from 
the  magistrates  with  orders  for  Charon  to  attend 
them  immediately,  he  ran  to  him  half  out  of  his  will 
to  acquaint  him  with  that  terrible  message.  They 
all  concluded  that  the  conspiracy  was  discovered,  and 
believed  themselves  lost,  before  it  would  be  possible 
to  execute  any  thing  worthy  their  cause  and  valour. 
However,  they  were  all  of  opinion  that  Charon  should 
obey  the  order,  and  present  himself  before  the  magis- 
trates with  an  air  of  assurance,  as  void  of  fear,  and 
unconscious  of  offence. 

Charon  was  a  man  of  intrepid  courage  in  danger* 
which  threatened  only  himself :  but  at  that  time, 
terrified  for  his  friends,  and  apprehending  nUo  that 
he  should  be  suspected  of  some  treachery,  if  so  many 
brave  citizens,  whom  he  had  received  into  his  house, 
should  be  destroyed,  he  went  to  his  wife's  apartment, 
and  fetched  his  only  son  of  fifteen  years  old  at  most, 
who  in  beauty  and  strength  excelled  all  the  youth* 
of  his  age,  and  put  him  into  the  hands  of  Pelopidas, 
saying  at  the  same  time;  "  If  you  discover  that  I  have  . 
betrayed  you,  and  have  been  guilty  of  treachery 
upon  this  occasion,  revenge  yourselves  on  me  in  this 
my  only  son,  whom,  dear  as  he  is  to  me,  I  abandon 
to  you,  and  let  him  fall  a  victim  without  mercy  to 
his  father's  perfidy." 

These  expressions  wounded  them  to  the  heart;  but 
what  gave  them  the  most  sensible  pain  was  his  imagi- 
ning that  there  was  any  one  amongst  them  so  mean 
and  ungrateful  as  to  form  to  himself  the  least  suspi- 
cion in  regard  to  him.  They  conjured  him  unani- 
mously, not  to  leave  his  son  with  them,  but  to  put  him 
into  some  place  of  safety ;  that  his  friends  and  coun- 
try might  not  want  an  avenger,  if  he  should  not  be  so 
fortunate  as  to  escape  the  tyrants.  "  No,"  replied  the 
father,  "  he  shall  stay  with  you,  and  share  your  fate. 
If  he  must  perish,  what  nobler  end  can  he  make,  than 
to  perish  with  his  father  and  best  friends?  For  you, 
my  son,  exert  yourself  beyond  your  years,  and  show 
a  courage  worthy  of  you  and  me.  You  see  here  the 
most  excellent  of  the  Thebans.  Make  under  such 
masters  a  noble  essay  of  glory,  and  learn  to  fight;  or 
if  it  must  be  so,  to  die,  like  them,  for  liberty.  For 
the  rest,  I  am  not  without  hopes,  for  I  believe  that  the 
justice  of  our  cause  will  draw  down  the  favour  nnd 
protection  of  the  gods  upon  us."  He  concluded  with 
a  prayer  for  them,  and  after  embracing  the  conspira- 
tors, went  out. 

He  took  pains  on  his  way  to  recover  himself,  and  to 
compose  his  looks  and  voice,  that  he  might  not  appear 
under  any  concern.  When  he  came  to  the  door  of  the 
house  where  the  feast  was  kept,  Archias  and  Philidas 
came  out  to  him,  and  asked  the  meaning  of  a  report, 
that  disaffected  people  were  arrived  in  the  city,  and 
were  concealed  in  some  house.  He  seemed  astonish- 
ed; and  finding  by  their  answers  to  his  questions, 
that  they  had  no  precise  information  on  the  subject, 
he  assumed  a  bolder  tone,  and  said,  "  It  is  very  like- 
ly the  report  you  speak  of  is  only  a  false  alarm,  in- 
tended to  interrupt  your  mirth;  however,  as  it  ought 
not  to  be  neglected,  I'll  go  immediately,  and  make 
the  strictest  inquiry  possible  into  it."  Philidas  praised 
his  prudence  and  zeal;  and  carrying  Archias  back 
into  the  company,  again  engaged  him  In  the  debauch, 
and  continued  the  entertainment,  by  keeping  the 
guests  in  perpetual  expectation  of  the  women  he  had 
promised  them. 

Charon,  on  his  return  home,  found  his  friends  all 
prepared,  not  to  conquer,  nor  to  save  their  fives,  but 
to  die  gloriously,  and  to  Hell  themselves  as  dear  as 
they  could.  The  serenity  and  joy  of  his  looks  ex- 
plained beforehand,  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear. 
He  repeated  all  that  had  passe'd ;  alter  which  they  had 
no  thoughts  but  of  putting  into  instant  execution  a 
design,  to  which  the  least  delay  might  occasion  a 
thousand  obstacles. 

In  fact,  at  that  very  instant  happened  a  second 
storm,  far  more  violent  and  more  dangerous  than  the 
first,  and  which  seemed  as  If  it  could  not  possibly  fa»l 


472 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


of  making  the  enterprise  miscarry.  A  courier  from 
Athens  nrrived  in  great  haste  with  a  packet,  which 
csnUtined  a  circumstantial  account  of  the  whole 
conspiracv,  as  was  afterwards  discovered.  The 
courier  was  brought  first  to  Archias,  who  was 
already  overcome  with  wine,  and  thought  of  nothing 
but  pleasure.  In  giving  mm  his  despatches,  he  said, 
"Mv  lord,  the  person  who  writes  you  these  letters, 
conjures  you  to  read  them  immediately,  being  serious 
affairs."  Archias  replied,  laughing,1  "Serious  affairs 
to-morrow;"  which  words  were  afterwards  used  by 
the  Greeks  as  a  proverb;  and  taking  the  letters,  he 
put  them  under  his  bolster,*  and  continued  the 
conversation  and  banquet. 

The  conspirators  were  at  that  time  in  the  streets, 
divided  into  two  parties:  the  one,  with  Pelopidas  at 
heir  head,  marched  against  Leontides,  who  was  not 
at  the  feast;  the  other  against  Archias,  under  the 
command  $f  Charon.  The  latter  had  put  on  women's 
habits  over  their  armour,  and  crowned  themselves 
with  pine  and  poplar  wreaths,  which  entirely  covered 
their  fares.  When  they  came  to  the  door  of  the 
apartment  where  the  feast  was  kept,  the  guests  made 
a  great  noise,  and  set  up  loud  shouts  of  joy.  But 
they  were  told,  that  the  women  would  not  come  in 
til!  the  servants  were  all  dismissed,  which  was  done 
immediately.  They  were  sent  to  neighbouring 
houses,  wherfe  there  was  no  want  of  wine  for  their 
entertainment.  The  conspirators,  by  this  stratagem, 
having  made  themselves  masters  of  the  field  of  battle, 
entered  sword  in  hand,  and  showing  themselves  in 
their  true  colours,  put  all  the  guests  to  the  sword, 
and  with  them  the  magistrates,  who  were  full  of 
wine,  and  in  no  condition  to  defend  themselves. 
Pelopidas  met  with  more  resistance.  Leontides,  who 
was  asleep  in  bed,  awaked  with  the  noise  that  was 
made,  and  rising  immediately,  armed  himself  with 
his  sword,  and  laid  some  of  the  conspirators  at  his 
feet,  but  was  at  last  killed  himself. 

This  grand  affair  being  executed  in  this  manner 
with  so  much  despatch  and  success,  couriers  were 
immediately  despatched  to  the  exiles  who  had 
remained  at  Thriasium.  The  doors  of  the  prisons 
were  broken  open,  and  500  prisoners  let  out.  The 
Thebans  were  called  upon  to  resume  their  liberty, 
and  arms  were  given  to  all  they  met,  the  spoils 
affixed  to  the  porticoes  being  taken  down,  and  the 
armourers  and  cutler's  shops,  broken  open  for  that 
purpose.  Epaminondas  and  Georgidas  came  in  arms 
to  join  them,  accompanied  with  a  numerous  band  of 
young  men,  and  with  some  old  persons  of  great 
worth,  whom  they  had  got  together. 

The  whole  city  was  in  great  terror  and  confusion; 
the  houses  all  illuminated  with  torches,  and  the 
streets  thronged  with  the  multitude  passing  to  and 
fro.  The  people,  in  a  consternation  at  what  had 
happened,  and  for  want  of  sufficient  information, 
waited  impatiently  for  the  day  to  know  their  destiny. 
The  Lacedaemonian  captains  were  therefore  thought 
gniltv  of  a  very  great  error  in  not  having  fallen  upon 
them  during  their  disorder;  for  the  garrison  consisted 
of  1500  men,  besides  3000  who  hail  taken  refuge  in 
the  citadel.  Alarmed  by  the  cries  they  heard,  the 
illuminations  they  saw  in  the  houses,  and  the  tumult 
of  the  multitude  running  backwards  and  forwards, 
they  lay  still,  and  contented  themselves  with  guard- 
ing the  citadel,  after  hnving  sent  couriers  to  Sparta 
with  the  news  of  what  hftd  happened,  and  to  demand 
an  immediate  re-inforcement. 

The  next  day  at  sun-r'ue  the  exiles  arrived  with 
their  arm«,  and  an  assembly  of  the  people  was  con- 
vened. Epaminondas  and  Georgidas  conducted  Pe- 
lopidas and  his  company  thither,  surrounded  with  all 
their  sacrifices,  carrying  in  their  hands  the  sacred 
fillets,  and  exhorting  the  citizens  to  assist  their  coun- 
try, and  to  join  with  their  cods.  At  this  sight,  the 
whole  assembly  rose  up  with  loud  acclamations  and 
clapping  of  hands,  and  received  the  conspirators  as 
their  benefactors  and  deliverers.  The  same  day, 
Pelopidas,  Melon,  and  Charon,  were  elected  Boeb- 
Urch«. 


Ov 


vxvv      ;    «fi»,         »,  T»  .u 

t  The  Greeks  ate  lying  on  couchei. 


The  arrival  of  the  exiles  was  followed  oy  that  of 
5000  foot  and  500  horse,  sent  by  the  Athenians  to 
Peljpidas,  under  the  command  of  Demophoon.  Those 
troops,  with  others  which  joined  them  shortly  after 
from  all  the  cities  of  Boeotia,  composed  an  army  of 
12,000  foot  and  2000  horse,  and  without  loss  of  time 
besieged  the  citadel,  that  it  might  be  taken  before 
relief  could  come  from  Sparta. 

The  besieged  made  a  vigorous  defence  in  hope* 
of  a  speedy  succour,  and  seemed  resolved  rather  to 
die  than  surrender  the  place;  at  least  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians were  of  that  opinion.  But  they  were  not  the 
greatest  number  of  the  garrison.  \\  hen  provisions 
began  to  fall  short,  and  famine  to  press  them,  the 
rest  of  the  troops  obliged  the  Spartans  lo  suiTtnilcr 
The  garri'Oii  had  their  lives  granted  them  and  were 
permitted  to  retire  whither  they  thought  fit.  They 
were  scarce  marched  out,  when  the  aid  arrived.  The 
Lacedaemonians  found  Cleombrotus  nt  Megara,  at 
the  head  of  a  powerful  army,  which,  with  a  little 
more  expedition,  might  have  saved  the  citadel.  But 
this  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  natural  slowness 
of  the  Lacedaemonians  had  occasioned  the  miscarriage 
of  their  most  important  enterprises.  The  three 
commanders  who  had  capitulated  were  tried.  Two 
of  them  were  puni-hed  with  death;  and  the  third 
had  so  great  a  fine  laid  upon  him,  that  nut  being  able 
to  pay  it,  he  banished  himself  from  Peloponne.-u*. 

Pelopidas  had  all  the  honour  of  this  great  exploit, 
the  most  memorable  of  any  that  were  ever  executed 
by  surprise  and  stratagem.  Plutarch,  with  reason, 
compares  it  to  that  of  Thrasybulus.  Both  exiles, 
destitute  in  themselves  of  all  resource,  and  romp*  lied 
to  implore  a  foreign  sup|x>rt,  form  the  bold  design  of 
attacking  a  formidable  power  with  a  handful  ot  men; 
and  having  overcome  all  obstacles  to  their  enterprise 
solely  by  their  valour,  had  each  of  them  the  good 
fortune  to  deliver  their  country,  and  to  change  the 
face  of  affairs  entirely.  For  the  Athenians  were 
indebted  to  Thrasybulus  for  that  sudden  and  happy 
change,  which,  freeing  them  from  the  oppression 
under  which  they  groaned,  not  only  restored  their 
liberty,  but  with  it  their  ancient  splendour  and  put 
them  into  a  condition  to  humble,  and  make  Sparta 
their  ancient  and  constant  rival,  tremble  in  her  turn. 
We  shall  see  in  like  manner,  that  the  war  which  is 
to  reduce  the  pride  of  Sparta,  and  deprive  her  of 
empire  over  both  sea  and  land,  was  the  work  of  this 
single  night,  in  which  Pelopidas,  without  taking 
either  citadel  or  fortress,  but  entering  only  one  of 
twelve  into  a  private  house,3  unloosed  and  broke  the 
chains  imposed  by  the  Lacedaemonians  on  all  the 
other  states  of  Greece.,  though  they  appeared  to  be 
so  firmly  ri vetted  as  never  to  be  broken  or  unloosed. 

SECTION    III.— SPHODRIAS    THE    LACEDEMONIAN 
FORMS   A  DESIGN   AGAINST  THE  PIR.EEUS   WITH- 
OUT SUCCESS.      THE    ATHENIANS    DECLARE    FOR 
THE  THEBANS.      SKIRMISHES  BETWEEN  THE  LAT- 
TER AND  THE  LACEO.EMOMANS. 
The  Lacedaemonians,*  after  the  in- 
jury they  pretended  to  have  received         A.  M.  3627. 
by  the  enterprise  of   Pelnpidas,  did    Ant.  J.  C.  377. 
not  continue  quiet,  but  applied  them- 
selves in  earnest  to  take   their  revenge.     Agrsilaus, 
rightly  judging  that  an  expedition  of  that  kind,  the 
end  of  which    was    to    support    tyrants,    would    not 
reflect  much  honour  upon  him,  left  it  to  Cleombrotus, 
who    had   lately    succeeded    king    Agesipolis,   under 
pretence  that  his  great  age  dispensed  with  his  under- 
taking   it.     Cleombrotlis    entered     Bo?otia    with  his 
army.     The    first    campaign    was    not   vigorous,  and 
terminated   in  CQMNttlM  -ome  ravages  in  the  coun- 
try; after    which    the    king    retired;  and    detaching 
part  of  his  troops   to  Sphodrias,  who  commanded  at 
Thespiae,  returned  to  Sparta. 

The  Athenians,  who  did  not  think  themselves  in  « 
condition  to  make  head  against  the  Lacedemonians, 


4  Xenoph.  Hint.  Gr  I.  v.  p.  5(58—572.     Plut   in.  Ages    • 
COi).  (510.    Id.  in  Pelop.  p.  i»4,  235. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS 


•nd  were  afraid  of  the  conscouences  of  the  war  in 
which  the  league,  with  the  Theoans  was  likely  to  en- 
gage them,  repented  their  having  entered  into  it,  and 
renounced  it.  Of  those  who  persisted  to  adhere  to 
the  Theban  party,  some  were  imprisoned,  some  put  to 
death,  others  banished,  and  the  rich  severely  fined. 
The  Theban  affairs  seemed  almost  desperate;  as  no 
jne  came  forward  to  .«upport  them.  Pelopidas  and 
Georgidas  wire  then  in  oltice,  and  were  concerting 
together  means  to  embroil  the  Athenians  wilh  the 
Lacedemonians;  and  this  was  the  stratagem  they 
contrived. 

Shpodrias  the  Spartan  had  been  left  at  Thespia? 
with  a  body  of  troops,  to  receive  and  protect  such  of 
the  Hoeotians  as  should  revolt  against  Thebes.  He 
had  -icquired  some  reputation  amongst  the  soldiery, 
•  nd  wanted  neither  courage  nor  ambition:  but  he  was 
rash,  superficial,  self-conctited,  and  consequentlv  apt 
to  entertain  vain  hopes.  Pelopidas  and  Georgidas 
gent  privately  a  merchant  of  his  <?wn  acquaintance  to 
him,  with  the  offer,  as  from  himself,  ol  a  considerable 
sum  ol  money,  and  with  insinuations  better  calculated 
to  persuade  uim  than  money,  since  they  Mattered  his 
vanity.  "  Allerhaving  represented  to  him  that  a  per- 
son of  his  merit  and  reputation  ought  to  form  some 
great  enterprise  which  might  immortalize  his  name, 
he  proposed  to  him  the  seizing  of  the  Piraeeus,  by  at- 
tacking the  Athenians  by  surprise,  and  when  they 
could  have  no  expectation  of  such  an  attempt.  He 
added,  that  nothing  could  be  more  grateful  to  the 
Lacedaemonians,  than  to  see  themselves  masters  of 
Athens;  and  that  the  Thebans,  enraged  at  the  Athe- 
nians, whom  they  considered  as  traitors  and  desert- 
ers, would  lend  them  no  assistance." 

Sphodrias,  anxious  to  acquire  a  great  name,  and 
env\  :ny  the  glory  of  Phcebidas,  who,  in  his  opinion, 
had  rendered  himself  renowned  and  illustrious  by  his 
unju»t  attempt  upon  T.'iebe*,  conceived  it  would  be  a 
much  more  brilliant  and  glorious  exploit  to  seize  the 
Pira?eus  of  his  own  accord,  and  deprive  the  Athenians 
of  their  great  power  at  sea,  by  an  unforeseen  attack 
by  land.  He  undertook  therefore  with  great  joy  an 
enterprise,  which  was  neither  less  unjust  norlesshor- 
rid  than  that  of  the  Cadinea,  but  executed  neither 
with  the  same  boldness  nor  with  the  same  success. 
For  having  set  out  in  the  nisfht  from  Thespia?,  r/ith 
the  view  of  surprising  the  Pirapeus  before  light,  the 
day-brtak  overtook  him  in  the  plain  of  Thriasiuci  near 
Kleii-is,  and  finding  himself  discovered,  he  returned 
shamefully  to  Thespiae  with  some  booty  which  he  had 
taken. 

The  Athenians  immediately  sent  ambassadors  with 
their  complaints  to  Sparta.  Those  ambassadors  lounii 
that  the  Lacedaemonians  had  not  wailed  their  arrival 
to  accuse  Sphodrias.  but  had  already  cited  him  before 
the  council  to  answer  for  his  conduct.  He  was  afraid 
to  obey  that  summons,  having  just  reason  to  appre- 
hend the  issue  of  a  trial,  and  the  resentment  of  his 
country.  He  had  a  son,  who  had  contracted  a  strict 
•nd  tender  friendship  with  the  son  of  Agesilaus.  The 
lutler  solicited  his  father  so  earnestly,  or  rather  tor- 
mented him  with  such  extreme  importunies, and  per- 
severance, that  he  could  not  refuse  Sphodrias  his  pro- 
tection, and  got  him  fully  acquitted.  Agesilaus  had 
little  delicacy,  as  we  have  seen  already,  with  respect 
to  the  duties  of  justice,  when  the  service  of  his  friends 
WHS  in  question.  He  was  besides,  of  all  mankind, 
the  most  tender  and  indulgent  father  to  his  children. 
It  is  reported  of  him.  (hut  when  they  were  little  he 
would  play  with  them,  and  divert  himself  with  riding 
upon  a  stick  amongst  them,  and  that  having  been  one 
Hay  surprised  by  a  friend  in  th-at  action,  lie  desired 
him  not  to  tell  any  body  of  it  till  himself  was  a  father. 

The  unjust  sentence  passed  ;n  favour  of  Sphodrias 
by  the  Spartans  exceedingly  incensed  the  Athenian*,1 
und  determined  them  to  renew  their  alliance  with 
Thebes  immediately,  and  to  assist  them  with  all  their 
power.  They  fitted  out  a  fleet  of  sixty  sail,  and  gave 
the  command  of  it  to  Timotheus,  son  of  the  illustri- 
ous Conon,  whose  reputation  he  well  sustained  by  his 


Xonoph.  I.  v.  p.  5*4— 589. 
Id.  in  Pelop.  p.  2P5— 288. 
VOL   L— 60 


Plut.  in  Ages,  p.  610,  611. 


473 

own  valour  and  exploits.  It  was  he  whom  his  ene 
mies,  through  envy  of  the  glory  he  had  acquired  bj 
his  gnat  success,  painted  sleeping,  with  the  goddesg 
Fortune  at  his  feet,  laking  towns  in  nets  for  him:*  bul 
upon  this  occasion  he  proved  that  he  was  not  asleep. 
After  having  ravaged  the  coast  of  Laconia,  he  attack- 
ed the  isle  of  Corcyra,»  which  ho  took.  He  treated 
the  inhabitants  with  great  humanity,  and  made  no 
alterations  in  their  liberty  or  laws,  which  very  much 
inclined  the  neighbouring  cities  in  favour  of  Athens. 
The  Spartans  on  their  side  made  powerful  prepa- 
rations for  the  wai,  and  were  principally  intent  upon 
retaking  Corcyra.  Its  happy  situation  between  Sic! 
ly  and  Greece  rendered  that  island  very  important. 
They  therefore  engaged  Dionysius  the  tyrant  in  this 
expedition,  and  demanded  aid  of  him.  In  the  mean 
time  they  despatched  their  fleet  under  the  command 
of  Mnasippus.  The  Athenians  sent  sixty  sail  against 
them  to  the  relief  of  Corcvra,  under  the  command  of 
Timotheus  at  first;  but  soon  after,  upon  his  seeming 
to  act  too  slim  ly,  Iphicrates  was  substituted  in  his 
place.  Mnasippus  having  made  himself  odious  to  his 
troops  by  his  haughtiness,  rigour,  and  avarice,  was 
very  ill  obeyed  by  them,  and  lost  his  life  in  an  en- 
gagement. Iphicrates  did  not  arrive  till  after  his 
death,  when  he  received  advice  that  the  Syracusan 
squadron  of  ten  galleys  was  approaching,  which  he 
attacked  so  successfully  that  not  one  of  them  escaped. 
He  had  demanded,  that  the  orator  Callistratus,  and 
Ohabrias,  one  of  the  most  renowned  captains  of  his 
time,  should  be  joined  in  commission  will)  him.  Xeno- 
phon  admires  hi*  wisdom  and  greatness  of  soul  upon 
that  ac  .ount,  in  being  not  unwilling  to  appear  to  have 
occasi  jn  for  advice,  and  not  apprehending  that  others 
miirht  share  the  glory  of  his  victories  wilh  himself: 

Agesilaushad  been  prevailed  upon  to  take  the  com- 
mand of  the  troops  against  Thebes.  He  entered  6030- 
tia,  where  he  did  abundance  of  damage  to  the  The- 
bnns,  not  without  considerable  los«  on  his  own  side. 
The  two  armies  came  every  day  to  blows,  and  were 
perpetually  engaged,  thougn  not  in  formal  battle,  yet 
in  skirmishes,  which  served  to  instruct  the  Thebans 
in  the  art  of  war,  and  to  inspire  them  wilh  valour, 
boldness,  and  experience.  It  is  reported  that  the 
Spartan  Antalcidas  told  Agesilans  very  justly  upon 
this  head  one  day,  when  he  was  brought  back  from 
rWotia  much  wounded,  "My  lord  Agesilau-.  you 
have  a  fine  reward  for  the  lessons  you  have  given  the 
Thebans  in  the7  art  of  war,  which,  before  you  taught 
it  them,  they  never  would  nor  could  learn."  It  was 
to  prevent  tnis  inconvenience,  that  Lycurgus,  in  one 
of  the  three  laws  which  he  calls  Rheirce,  forbade  the 
Lscedasmonians  to  make  war  often  upon  the  same 
enemy,  lest  they  should  make  them  good  soldiers,  by 
obliging  them  too  frequently  to  defend  themselves. 

Several  campaigns  passed  iu  this  manner  without 
any  thing  decisive  on  either  side.  It  was  prudent  in 
the  Thtban  generals  not  to  hazard  a  battle  hitherto, 
and  to  give  their  soldiers  time  to  inure  and  embolden 
themselvf  s.  When  the  occasion  was  favourable,  they 
let  them  seasonably  loose  like  generous  hounds,  and 
after  having  giver,  them  a  ta*te  of  victory  by  way  of 
reward,  they  called  them  off,  contented  with  their 
courage  ana  alacrity.  The  principal  glory  of  their 
j  success  an'l  this  wise  conduct  was  clue  to  Pelopidas. 

The  rn<rn«pment  at  Trgyra,  which  was  a  kind  of 
prelude  to  the  battle  of  Leactra,  added  much  to  nig 
reputation.  Having  failed  in  his  enterprise  against 
Orchomcnos,  which  had  joined  the  Laceda?monians, 
at  his  return  he  found  the  enemy  posted  to  intercept 
him  near  Tetryra.  As  soon  a?  tfie  Thebans  perceived 
them  from  the  defiles,  somebody  ran  in  all  haste  to 
Pelopidas,  and  told  him,  "  We  are  fallen  into  the  en- 
emy's hands."  "  Why  so,"  replied  he:  "Why  Should 
we  not  rather  say,  that  they  are  fallen  into  ours?" 
At  the  same  time  he  ordered^  his  cavalry,  which  were 
hi«  rear  guard,  to  advance  to  the  front,  that  they 
miirht  begin  the  fieht.  He  was  assured  thnt  his  f 'Ot, 
which  were  only  300,  and  were  called  the  tarred  ^a^ 
t  ilinn,  whereve'r  they  charged,  would  bi<*»'«  through 
the  enemy,  though  superior  in  number,  as  they  wer« 


•  Plat,  in  S) I.  p.  454. 


2  P2 


t  Corfu 


474 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


«y  at  least  two-thirds.     The  assault  began  where  the 

fenerals  of  each  party  were  posted,  and  was  very 
erce.  The  two  generals  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  who 
had  charged  Pelopidas,  were  presently  killed;  all  that 
were  with  them  being  either  slain  or  dispersed.  The 
rest  of  the  Lacedaemonian  troops  were  so  daunted, 
that  they  opened  a  passage  for  the  Thebans,  who 
might  have  marched  on  and  saved  themselves  if  they 
had  thought  fit:  but  Pelopidas,  disdaining  to  make  use 
of  that  opening  for  his  retreat,  advanced  against  those 
who  were  still  drawn  up  in  battle,  and  made  so  great 
a  slaughter  of  them,  that  the  rest  were  all  dismayed, 
and  fled  in  disorder.  The  Thebans  did  not  pursue 
them  far,  lest  they  should  be  surprised.  They  con- 
tented themselves  with  having  broken  them,  and  with 
making  a  glorious  retreat,  not  inferior  to  a  victory, 
because  it  was  made  through  nn  enemy  dispersed  and 

feated. 

This  little  encounter,  for  it  can  be  called  no  more, 
was  in  a  manner  the  source  of  the  great  actions  and 
events  we  shall  soon  relate.  It  had  never  happened 
till  then  in  any  war,  either  against  the  Barbarians  or 
Greeks,  that  the  Lacedaemonians  had  been  defeated 
with  the  superiority  of  number  on  their  side,  nor  even 
with  equal  forces  in  a  pitched  battle.  For  which  rea- 
son they  were  insupportably  proud,  and  their  reputa- 
tion alone  kept  their  enemies  in  awe,  who  never  durst 
show  themselves  in  the  field  before  them,  unless  su- 
perior in  number.  They  now  lost  that  glory;  and 
the  Thtbans  in  their  turn  are  to  become  the  terror 
and  dread  even  of  those  who  hpd  hitherto  rendered 
themselves  so  univerally  formidable. 

The  enterprise  of  Artaxerxes  Mne- 

A.  M.  3627.  mon  against  Egypt,  and  tht  death  of 
Ant.  J.  C  377.  Evagoras  king  of  Cyprus,  should  na- 

A.  M.  3630.    turally  come  in  here.     But  1  shall  de- 
Ant.  J.  C.  374.   fer  those  articles,  to  avoid  breaking  in 
upon  the  Theban  affaire. 

SECTION  IV.— NEW  TROUBLES  IN  GREECE. 
THE  LACEDEMONIANS  DECLARE  WAR  AGAINST 
THEBES.  THEY  ARE  DEFEATED  AND  PUT  TO 
FLIGHT  IN  THE  BATTLE  OF  LEUCTRA.  EPAMI- 
NONDAS  RAVAGES  LACONIA,  AND  MARCHES  TO 
THE  GATES  OF  SPARTA. 

WHILST  the  Persians  were  engaged  in  the  Egyp- 
tian war,1  great  troubles  arose  in  Greece.  In  that 
interval  the  Thebans,  having  takert  Plataeae,8  and  af- 
terwards Thespiae,  entirely  demolished  those  two  ci- 
ties, and  expelled  the  inhabitants.  The  Plataeans  re- 
tired to  Athens  with  their  wives  and  children,,  where 
they  were  received  with  the  utmost  kindness,  and 
adopted  into  the  number  of  citizens. 

Artaxerxes,8  being  informed  of  the 

A.  M.  3633.  state  of  the  Grecian  affairs,  sent  a 
Ant.  J.  C.  371.  new  embassy  thither,  to  persuade  the 
several  cities  and  republics  at  war,  to 
lay  down  their  arms,  and  accommodate  their  differ- 
ences upon  the  plan  of  the  treaty  of  Antalcidas.  By 
that  peace,  as  has  been  observed  in  its  place,  it  was 
concluded,  that  all  the  cities  of  Greece  should  enjoy 
their  liberty  and  be  governed  by  their  own  laws.  In 
virtue  of  this  article,  the  Lacedaemonians  pressed  the 
Thebans  to  restore  liberty  to  nil  the  cities  of  Boeotia, 
to  rebuild  Plataeae  and  Thespiae  which  they  had  de- 
molished, and  to  restore  them  with  the  territories  de- 
pendent on  them  to  their  ancient  inhabitants.  The 
Thebans  on  thfir  side  insisted  also,  that  the  Lacedae- 
monians should  give  liberty  to  all  those  of  I.aconia, 
and  that  the  city  of  Messene  should  be  restored  to  its 
ancient  possessors.  This  was  what  equity  required; 
but  the  Lacedaemonians,  believing  themselves  much 
superior  to  theThebans,  were  for  imposing  a  law  upon 
them,  to  which  they  won  d  not  submit  themselves. 

All  Greece  being  weary  of  a  war  which  had  alrea-1 
dy  lasted  several  campaigns,  and  had  no  other  origin 
than  (he  ambition  and  injustice  of  Sparta,  nor  any 
Other  end  than  the  aggrandizing  of  that  state,  was  se- 
riously intent  upon  effecting  a  general  peace,  and  with 


»  Diod.  I.  ii.  p.  361.  332. 

»  Plalseie,  a  city  of  Breotia;  The»pi«  of  Aehaia. 
•  A'enoph.  Hiitory  G.VEC  '  6  p.  590—  593.     Diod   p.  3C5, 
X5G. 


that  view  had  sent  deputies  to  Lacedaenr.on  to  concert 
together  the  means  of  attaining  so  desirable  an  event 
Amongst  those  deputies,4  Epamonidas  was  of  the  first 
rank.  He  was  at  that  time  celebrated  for  his  ffreal 
erudition  and  profound  knowledge  in  philosophy!  but 
he  had  not  yet  had  an  opportunity  ol  giving  any  VITV 
distinguished  proofs  of  his  great  capacity  for  the  com- 
mand of  armies  and  the  administration  of  public  af- 
fairs. Seeing  that  all  the  deputies,  out  of  respect  for 
Agesilaus,  who  declared  openly  for  the  war,  were 
afraid  to  contradict  him  or  to  differ  from  his  opinion 
in  any  thing,  a  very  common  effect  of  too  imperious  a 
power  on  one  side,  and  too  servile  a  submission  on 
the  other;  he  was  the  only  one  that  spoke  with  a 
wise  and  noble  boldness,  as  became  a  statesman  who 
had  no  other  view  than  the  public  good.  He  made 
a  speech,  not  for  the  Thebans  alone,  but  for  Greece 
in  general;  in  which  he  proved,  that  the  war  aug 
niented  only  the  power  of  Sparta,  whilst  the  rest  of 
Greece,  was  reduced  and  ruined  by  it.  He  insisted 
principally  upon  the  necessitv  ot  establishing  the 
peace  upon  the  basis  of  equallity  and  justice;  because 
no  peace  could  be  solid  and  of  longduration, but  that 
wherein  all  parties  should  find  an  equal  advantage. 

A  discourse  like  this,  founded  evidently  upon  rea 
son  and  justice,  and  pronounced  with  a  grave  and  se- 
rious tone,  never  fails  of  making  an  impression.  Age- 
silaus plainly  perceived,  from  the  attention  and  silence 
with  which  it  was  heard,  that  the  deputies  were  ex  • 
tremely  affected  with  it,  and  would  not  fail  to  aci 
conformably  to  his  opinion.  To  prevent  that  effect, 
he  demanded  of  Epaminondas,  "  Whether  he  though'i 
it  just  and  reasonable  that  Boeotia  should  be  free  anr 
independent?"  that  is  to  say,  Whether  he  agreed 
that  the  cities  of  Boeotia  should  depend  no  longer 
upon  Thebes?  Epaminondas  immediately  asked  in 
his  turn,  with  great  vivacity,  "  Whether  fie  thought 
it  just  and  reasonable  that  Laconia  should  enjoy  the 
same  independence  and  liberty?"  Upon  which,  Age- 
silaus, rising  from  his  seat  in  great  rsge,  insisted  upon 
his  declaring  plainly,  "  Whether  he  would  consent 
that  Boeotia  should  be  free?"  Epaminondas  retorted 
his  question  again,  and  asked,  "  Whether  on  his  side 
he  would  consent  that  Laconia  should  be  free?' 
Agesilaus,  who  wanted  only  a  pretext  for  breaking 
with  the  Thebans,  struck  their  name  directly  out  of 
the  tieaty  of  alliance  which  they  were  about  to  con- 
clude. The  rest  of  the  allies  signed  it,  less  out  of  in- 
clination, than  not  to  offend  the  Lacedaemonians, 
whose  power  they  dreaded. 

In  consequence  of  this  treaty,5  all  the  troops  in 
the  field  were  to  be  disbanded.  Cleombrotus,  one  of 
the  kings  of  Sparta,  was  then  in  Phocis,  at  the  head 
of  the  army.  He  wrote  to  the  Ephori  to  know  the  re- 
public's resolutions.  Prothous,  one  of  the  principal 
senators,  represented  that  there  was  no  room  for  de- 
liberation, for  that  Sparta,  by  the  late  agreement,  had 
made  the  recall  of  the  troops  indispensable.  Agesi- 
lau*  was  of  a  different  opinion.  Angry  with  the  The- 
bans, and  particularly  with  Epaminondas,  he  was  ab- 
solutely bent  on  war  for  an  opportunity  of  revenge, 
and  the  present  seemed  particularly  favourable,  when 
all  Greece  was  free  and  united,  and"  only  the  Thebans 
excluded  from  the  treaty  if  peace.  The  advice  of 
Prothous  was  therefore  rejivted  by  the  whole  coun- 
cil, who  treated  him  as  an  honest  well-meaning  do 
tard,'  that  knew  nothing  of  l\ie  matter;  the  Divin'ty 
from  thenceforth,  as  Xenopl.en  observes,  promoting 
their  downfall.  The  Ephon  wrote  ininiFdintely  to 
Cleombrotus  to  march  again»\  the  Thebans  with  his 
troops,  and  sent  orders  at  the  came  time  to  all  their 
allies,  to  assemble  their  forces,  vho  were  very  averse 
to  this  war,  and  did  not  join  in  it  but  with  great  re- 
luctance, and  out  of  fear  of  contudicting  the  Lace- 
daemonians, whom  they  did  not  yev  t'are  to  disobey. 
Though  no  happy  consequences  COO!L!  he  expected 
from  a  war,  visibly  undertaken  contra/y  to  all  reason 
and  justice,  and  from  the  sole  motive  ol  rcsfenf-nent 

«  Plut.  in  Agesil.  p.  611. 

•  Xenopli.  I.  vi.  p  503—597.  Diod  1.  xv  |>.  ?63-~371. 
Plut  in  Ageiil.  p.  611,612.  Id.  in  Pelop.  p.  2»S,  CK.\ 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


471) 


anil  rtvcnge;  the  Lacedaemonians,  however,  from  the 
superiority  of  their  numbers,  assured  themselves  of 
success,  and  imagined  that  the  Thebans,  abandoned 
by  their  allies,  were  in  no  condition  to  oppose  them. 
The  Thebans  were  much  alarmed 

A.  M.  3634.  at  first.  They  saw  themselves  alone. 
Ant  J.C.370.  without  allies  or  support,  whilst  all 
Greece  looked  upon  them  as  utterly 
lost,  not  knowing  that  in  a  single  man  they  had  more 
than  an  army.  This  man  was  Epaminondas.  He 
was  appointed  general,  and  had  several  colleagues 
joined  in  commission  with  him.  He  immediately 
raised  all  the  troops  he  could,  and  began  his  march. 
His  army  did  not  amount  to  6000  men,  and  the 
enemy  had  above  four  times  that  number.  As 
several  bad  omens  were  told  him  to  prevent  his 
setting  out,  he  replied  only  by  a  verse  of  Homer's, 
of  which  the  sense  is,  "  There  is  but  one  good 
omen,1  which  is,  to  fight  for  one's  country."  How- 
ever, to  re-assure  the  soldiers,  by  nature  superstitious, 
and  whom  he  observed  to  be  discouraged,  he  instruct- 
ed several  persons  to  come  from  different  places,  and 
report  auguries  and  omens  in  his  favor,  which  revived 
the  spirit  and  hopes  of  the  troops. 

Pelopidas  was  not  then  in  office,  but  commanded 
the  sacred  battalion.  When  he  left  his  house  to  go 
to  the  army,  his  wife,  in  taking  her  last  adieu,  con- 
jured him  with  a  flood  of  tears,  to  take  care  of  him- 
self: "That,"  said  be,  <;  should  be  recommended  to 
young  people;  but  for  generals,  they  have  no  occa- 
sion lor  such  advice;  they  should  only  be  exhorted 
to  take  care  of  others." 

Epaminondas  had  had  the  wise  precaution  to  secure 
a  pass,  by  which  Cleombrotus  might  have  shortened 
his  march  considerably.  The  latter,  after  having 
taken  a  large  compass,  arrived  at  Leuctra,  a  small 
town  of  Bceotia,  between  Plataese  and  Thespiae.  Both 
parties  consulted  whether  they  should  give  battle; 
which  Cleombrotus  resolved  by  the  advice  of  all  his 
officers,  who  represented  to  him,  that  if,  with  such  a 
superiority  of  troops,  he  declined  fighting,  it  would 
confirm  the  report  which  was  sacretly  spread,  that 
he  covertly  favoured  the  Thehans.  The  latter  had 
an  essential  reason  for  hastening  a  battle,  to  antici- 
pate the  arrival  of  the  troops  which  the  enemy  daily 
expected.  However,  the  six  generals,  who  formed 
the  council  of  war,  differed  in  their  sentiments.  A 
seventh,  who  came  up  very  seasonably,  joined  the 
three  that  were  for  fighting;  and  his  opinion,  which 
coincided  also  with  that  of  Epaminondas,  carrying 
the  question,  the  battle  was  resolved  upon.  This 
was  in  the  second  year  of  the  102d  Olympiad. 

The  two  armies  were  very  unequal  in  number. 
That  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  as  has  been  said,  con- 
sisted of  24.000  foot  and  1600  horse.  The  Thebans 
had  only  6000  foot  and  400  horse;  but  all  of  tht-m 
choice  troops,  animated  by  their  success  in  former 
campaigns,  and  determined  to  conquer  or  die.  The 
Lacedaemonian  cavalry,  composed  of  men  picked  up 
by  chance,  without  valour,  and  ill-disciplined,  was  as 
much  inferior  to  that  of  their  enemies  in  courage  as 
it  was  superior  in  number.  The  infantry  could  not 
be  depended  on,  except  the  Lacedaemonian?;  the 
allies,  as  it  has  been  said,  having  engaged  in  the  war 
with  reluctance,  because  they  did  not  approve  the 
motive  of  it,  and  were  besides  dissatisfied*  with  the 
Lacedaemonians. 

The  ability  of  the  generals  on  either  side  supplied 
the  place  of  numerous  armies,  especially  the  Tneban, 
who  was  the  most  accomplished  captain  of  his  time. 
He  was  supported  by  Pelopidas  at  the  head  of  the 
lacred  battalion,  composed  of  300  young  Thebans, 
united  in  a  strict  friendship  and  affection,  and 
engaged  under  a  particular  oath  never  to  flv,  but  to 
defend  each  other  to  the  last  drop  of  their  blood. 

Upon  the  day  of  battle  the  two  armies  drew  up  on 

plain.  Cleombrotus  was  upon  the  right,  consisting 
of  Lacedaemonian*,  on  whom  he  confined  most,  and 
whose  files  were  twelve  deep.  To  take  advantage 
of  the  superiority  of  his  horse  in  an  open  country,  he 
posted  them  in  the  front  of  his  Lacedaemonians 

I    Jt;    «i.v4;    it>rTl(,in\iririmi    will    jr.Tf*;. 

'      Iliad.  li.  ».  423. 


Archidamus,  Agesilaus's  son  was  at  the  head  of  the 
allies,  who  formed  the  left  wing. 

Epaminondas,  who  resolved  to  charge  with  his 
left,  which  he  commanded  in  person,  strengthened  ii 
with  the  choice  of  his  heavy-armed  troops,  whom  he 
drew  up  fifty  deep.  The  sacred  battaliou  was  uf  on 
fiis  left,  and  closed  the  wing.  The  rest  of  his  infantry 
were  posted  upon  his  right  in  an  oblique  line,  which, 
the  farther  it  extended,  was  the  more  distant  from 
the  enemy.  By  this  uncommon  disposition,  his 
design  was  to  cover  his  right  flank,  to  refuse  his  right 
wing  and  keep  it  as  a  kind  of  reserve,  that  he  might 
not  hazard  the  event  of  the  battle  upon  the  weakest 
part  of  his  army;  and  to  begin  the  action  with  his 
left  wing,  where  his  best  troops  were  posted,  to  turn 
ihe  whole  weight  of  the  battle  upon'  king  Cleom- 
arotus  and  the  Spartans.  He  \va«  assured,  that  if  be 
could  penetrate  the  Lacedaemonian  phalanx,  the  rest 
3t  the  army  would  soon  be  put  to  the  rout.  As  for 
tiis  horse,  he  disposed  them  (liter  the  enemy's  ex- 
ample) in  the  front  of  his  lift. 

The  action  began  by  the  cavalry.  As  that  of  the 
Thebans  were  belter  mounted  and  braver  troops  than 
the  Lacedaemonian  horse,  the  latter  were  not  long 
before  they  were  broken,  and  driven  upon  the 
infantry,  which  they  put  into  some  confusion.  Epa- 
minondas following  his  horse  close,  marched  swiftly 
up  to  Cleombrotus,  and  fell  upon  his  phalanx  with 
all  the  weight  of  his  heavy  battalion.  The  latter,  to 
make  a  diversion,  detached  a  body  of  troops  with 
orders  to  take  Epaminondas  in  flank,  and  to  surround 
him.  Pelopidas,  upon  the  sight  of  that  movement 
advanced  with  incredible  speed  and  boldness  at  the 
head  of  the  sacred  battalion  to  prevent  the  enemy's 
design,  and  flanked  Cleombrotus  himself,  who,  by 
that  sudden  and  unexpected  attack,  was  put  into 
disorder.  The  battle  was  very  fierce  and  obstinate; 
and  whilst  Cleombrotus  could  act,  the  victory  con- 
tinued in  suspense,  and  declared  for  neither  party. 
When  he  fell  dead  with  his  wounds,  the  Thebans,  to 
complete  the  victory,  and  the  Lacedaemonians,  to 
avoid  the  shame  of  abandoning  the  body  of  their 
king,  redoubled  their  efforts,  and  a  great  slaughter 
ensued  on  both  sides.  The  Spartans  fought  with  so 
much  fury  about  the  body,  that  at  length  they  gained 
their  point,  and  carried  it  off.  Animated  by  so 
glorious  an  advantage,  they  prepared  to  return  to 
the  charge,  which  would  perhaps  have  proved  suc- 
cessful, had  the  allies  seconded  their  ardour.  But  the 
left  wing,  seeing  the  Lacedaemonian  phalanx  had 
been  broken,  and  believing  all  lost,  especially  when 
they  heard  that  the  king  was  dead,  took  to  flight, 
and'  drew  off  the  rest  of  the  army  along  with  them. 
Epaminondas  followed  them  vigorously,  and  killed  a 
great  number  in  the  pursuit.  The  Thebans  remained 
masters  of  the  field  of  battle,  but  erected  a  trophy 
and  permitted  the  enemy  to  bury  their  dead. 

The  Lacedatmonians  had  never  received  such  a 
blow.  The  most  bloody  defeats  till  then  had  scarce 
ever  cost  them  more  than  4  or  500  of  their  citizens. 
They  had  been  seen,  however,  animated,  or  rather 
violently  incensed,  against  Athens,  to  ransom  by  • 
truce  of  thirty  years,  800  of  their  citizens,  who  had 
suffered  themselves  to  be  shut  up  in  the  little  island 
of  Sphacteria.  Here  they  lost  4000  men,  of  whom 
1000  were  Lacedaemonians,  and  400  Spartans,  out  of 
700  who  were  in  the  battle  *  The  Thtbans  had  only 
300  men  killed,  among  whom  were  but  few  of  their 
citizens. 

The  city  of  Sparta  was  at  that  time  celebrating 
the  gymnastic  games,  and  was  full  of  strangers  whom 
curiosity  had  brought  thither,  when  the  couriers 
arrived  from  Leuctra  with  the  terrible  news  of  thr;r 
defeat.  The  Ephori,  though  perfectly  sensible  of  all 
the  consequences,  and  that  the  Spartan  empire  had 
received  a  mortal  wound,  w.iuld  not  permit  the 
representations  of  the  theatre  to  be  suspended,  nor 
any  change  to  take  place  in  the  celebration  of  the 
festival.  They  sent  to  every  family  the  n»mes  of 
their  relations  who  were  kifled.  and  »tajed  in  tin 


»  Those  were  properly  called  Spur  Una,  wlo  inhibited 
Sparta:  the  Lacedemonian*  were  UHM  »elJed  in  UM 
country. 


470 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


theatre  to  see  that  the  dances  and  games  were  con- 
tinued without  interruption,  to  the  end. 

The  next  day  in  the  morning,  the  loss  of  each 
family  being  known,  the  fathers  and  relations  of 
those  who  had  died  in  the  battle  met  in  the  public 
square,  and  saluted  and  embraced  each  other  with 
great  joy  and  serenity  in  their  looks;  whil-t  the 
others  kept  themselves  close  in  their  house,  or,  if 
necessity  obliged  them  to  go  abroad,  it  was  with  a  •ad- 
ness  and  dejection  of  aspect  which  sensibly  expressed 
their  profound  anguish  and  affliction.  That  differ- 
ence was  still  more  remarkable  in  the  women.  Grief, 
silence,  tears,  distinguished  those  who  expected  the 
return  of  their  sons;  but  such  as  had  lost  their  sons 
were  seen  hurrying  to  the  temple?  to  thank  the  gods, 
and  congratulating  each  other  upon  their  glory  and 
good  fortune.  It  cannot  be  denied  but  such  senti- 
ments evince  great  courage  and  resolution;  but  I 
would  not  have  them  entirely  extinguish  natural  ten- 
derness, and  should  have  been  better  pleased  had  there 
bren  less  of  ferocity  in  them. 

Sparta  was  under  no  small  difficulty  to  know  how 
to  act  in  regard  to  those  who  had  fled  from  the  battle. 
As  they  were  numerous,  and  of  the  most  powerful 
families  in  the  city,  it  was  not  safe  to  inflict  upon  them 
the  punishments  assigned  by  the  laws,  lest  their  despair 
should  induce  them  to  take  some  violent  resolution 
that  might  be  fatal  to  the  state.  For  such  as  fled  were 
not  only  excluded  from  all  offices  and  employments, 
b'lt  it  was  a  disgrace  to  contract  any  alliance  with 
them  by  marriage.  Any  body  that  met  them  in  the 
streets  might  buffet  them,  which  they  were  obliged  to 
suffer.  They  were  besides  to  wear  dirty  and  ragged 
habits,  full  of  patches  of  different  colours;  and,  last- 
ly, they  were  to  shave  half  their  beards,  and  to  let  the 
other  half  grow.  It  would  be  a  great  loss  to  the 
Spartans  to  be  deprived  of  so  many  of  their  soldiery, 
at  a  time  when  they  had  such  pressing  occasion  for 
them.  To  remove  this  difficulty,  they  chose  Agesi- 
lans  legislator,  with  absolute  power  to  make  such  al- 
terations in  the  laws  as  he  should  think  fit.  Agesi- 
laus,  without  adding,  retrenching,  or  changing,  any 
thing,  found  means  to  save  the  fugitives  without  pre- 
judice to  the  state.  In  a  full  assembly  of  the  Lace- 
daemonians, he  decreed,  "  That  for  the  present  day, 
the  laws  should  be  suspended,  and  of  no  effect;  but 
ever  after  to  remain  in  full  force  and  authority."  By 
those  few  words  he  preserved  the  Spartan  faws  en- 
tire, and  at  the  same  time  restored  to  the  state  that 
great  number  of  its  members,  by  preventing  their  be- 
ing for  ever  degraded,  and  consequently  useless  to 
the  republic. 

After  the  battle  of  Leuctra  the  two  parties  were 
industriously  employed,  the  one  in  retrieving  their 
loss,  and  the  other  in  improving  their  victory.1 

Agesilaus,  to  revive  the  courage  of  his  troops, 
marched  them  into  Arcadia;*  but  with  a  full  resolu- 
tion carefully  to  avoid  a  battle.  He  confined  him- 
self to  attaching  some  small  towns  of  the  Mantinaeans, 
which  he  took,  and  laid  the  country  waste.  This  gave 
Sparta  some  joy,  and  they  began  to  take  courage 
from  believing  their  condition  not  entirely  desperate. 

The  Thebans.  immediately  after  their  victory,  had 
tent  an  account  of  it  to  Athens,  and  to  demand  aid 
at  the  same  time  against  the  common  enemy.  The 
senate  was  then  sitting,  and  received  the  courier  with 
great  coldness,  did  not  make  him  the  usual  presents, 
and  dismissed  him  without  taking  anv  notice  of  aid. 
The  Athenians,  alarmed  at  the  considerable  advan- 
tage which  the  Tliebans  had  gained  over  the  Lace- 
daemonians, could  not  dissemble  the  umbrage  and  dis- 
satisfaction which  so  sudden  »nd  unexpected  an  in- 
crease of  a  neighbouring  power  gave  them,  which 
might  soon  render  itself  formidable  to  all  Greece. 

At  Thebes,  Epaminondas  and  Pelopidas  had  been 
elected  joint  governors  of  Breotia.  Having-  assembled 
all  the  trooits  of  the  Boeotians  and  their  allies  whose 
number  daily  increased,  they  entered  Peloponnesus, 
and  made  abundance  of  places  and  states  revolt  from 
the  Lacedasmonians;  Elis,  Arpos.  all  Arcadia,  and 
the  greatest  part  of  Laconia  itself.  It  WHS  then  about 

i  Xenoph.  I.  vi.  p.  308.  ~~Diod    I.  xv  p.  375—378. 
•  Plut.  in  Age«il.  p  613—615.    Id.  in  Pelop.  p.  290. 


the  winter  solstice,  and  towards  the  end  of  tnt  lasi 
month  of  the  year,  so  that  in  a  few  days  they  were  tn 
quit  their  offices:  the  first  day  of  the  next  month  be- 
ing assigned  by  law,  for  their  resigning  them  to  th« 
persons  appointed  to  succeed  them,  upon  pain  of  death 
if  they  held  them  beyond  that  term.  Theircolleagues 
apprehending  the  badness  of  the  seasons,  and  still 
more  the  dreadful  consequences  of  infiingiitg  that  law, 
were  for  marching  back  the  army  immeclmttly  to 
Thebes. 

Pelopidas  was  the  first  who,  entering  into  the  opi- 
nion of  F.paminondas,  animated  tht  citizens,  a:;d  en 
gaged  them  to  take  advantage  of  the  cnemv's  alarm, 
and  to  pursue  their  enterprise  without  regard  to  a  for- 
mality, from  the  observance  of  which  they  might  just 
ly  believe  themselves  dispensed  by  the  st'ate  it-i  if,  as 
the  service  of  the  state,  when  founded  in  justice,  is  the 
sovereign  law  and  rule  of  the  people's  obedience. 

They  entered  Laconia  therefore  at  the  head  of  an 
army  of  70,000  good  soldiers,  of  which  the  Thebani 
did  not  form  a  twelfth  part.  But  the  great  reputation 
of  the  two  generals  was  the  cause,  that  all  the  allies, 
even  without  orders,  or  a  public  decree,  obeyed  them 
with  respectful  silence,  and  marched  with  entire  con- 
fidence and  courage  under  their  command.  It  was  600 
years  since  the  Dorians  had  established  themselves  at 
Lacedaemon,  and  in  all  that  time  they  had  never  seen, 
till  now,  an  enemy  upon  their  lands;  none  having 
hitherto  dared  to  s'et  foot  in  them,  and  much  less  to 
attack  their  city,  though  without  walls.  The  The- 
bans and  their  allies,  finding  a  country  hitherto  un- 
touched by  an  enemy,  ran  through  it  with  fire  and 
sword,  destroying  and  plundering  as  far  as  the  river 
Eurotas,  without  any  opposition  whatsoever. 

Parties  had  been  posted  to  defend  some  important 
passes.  Ischolas  the  Spartan,  who  commanded  one 
of  these  detachments,  distinguished  himself  in  a  pe- 
culiar manner.  Finding  it  impossible,  with  his  small 
body  of  troops,  to  support  the  enemy's  attack,  and 
thinking  it  disgraceful  for  a  Spartan  to  abandon  his 
post,  he  sent  back  the  young  men  who  were  of  an  age 
and  condition  to  serve  their  country  effectually,  and 
kept  none,  with  him  but  such  as  were  advanced  in 
years.  These,  unanimously  devoting  themselves,  af 
ter  the  example  of  Leonidas,  to  the  public  good,  sold 
their  lives  very  dear;  and  after  having  defended  them 
selves  a  long  time,  and  made  great  slaughter  of  then 
enemies  they  all  perished  to  a  man. 

Agesilaus  acted  upon  this  occasion  with  great  ad 
dress  and  wisdom.  He  looked  upon  this  irruption  of 
the  enemy  as  an  impetuous  torrent,  which  it  was  no' 
only  in  vain,  but  dangerous  to  oppose,  whose  rapid 
ccnfrse  would  be  but  of  short  duration,  and  after  some 
ravages  subside  of  itself.  He  contented  himself  with 
distributing  his  best  troops  into  the  middle  and  all  the 
most  important  parts  of  the  city,  and  with  strongly 
securingall  the  posts.  He  was  determined  nottoquil 
the  town,  nor  to  hazard  a  battle,  and  persisted  in  that 
resolntion,  without  regrard  to  all  the  raillery,  insults, 
and  menaces  of  the  Thebans,  who  defied  him  by  name 
and  called  upon  him  to  come  out  and  defend  his  coun- 
try, him  who  had  alone  been  the  cause  of  all  its  suf- 
ferings, by  kindling  the  war. 

But  a  subject  of  far  greater  affliction  to  Agesi  nut 
were  the  commotions  and  disorders  excited  within  the 
citv,  the  murmurs  and  complaints  of  the  old  men  in  the 
highest  affliction  and  despair  from  being  witnesses  of 
what  they  saw,  as  well  as  of  the  women,  who  seemed 
quite  distracted  with  hearing  the  threatening  cries  of 
the  enemy,  and  seeing  the  neighbouring  country  all  on 
fire,  whilst  the  flames  and  smoke,  which  drove  almost 
upon  them,  sermed  to  denounce  a  like  misfortune  to 
themselves.  Whatever  courage  Agesilaus  might  ex 
press  in  his  outward  behaviour,  he  could  not  fail  of 
being  sensibly  affected  with  so  mournful  an  object,  to 
which  was  added  the  grief  of  sullying  his  reputation 
who,  having  found  the  city  in  a  most  flourishing  and 
potent  condition  when  he  came  to  the  government 
now  saw  it  fallen  to  such  a  degree,  and  all  its  ancient 
glory  lost  under  him  !  He  was,  besides,  secretlj 
mortified  at  so  mournful  a  contradiction  of  a  boast  hf 
had  often  made,  "  that  no  woman  of  Sparta  had  evel 
seen  the  smoke  of  an  enemy's  camo. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


477 


Whilst  he  was  giving  different  orders  in  the  city, 
he  was  informed,  that  a  certain  number  of  mutineers 
had  seized  an  important  post,  with  a  resolution  to  de- 
fend themselves  in  it.  Agesilaus  ran  immediately  thi- 
ther; and  as  if  he  had  been  entirely  unacquainted  with 
their  bad  designs,  he  said  to  them,  "  Comrades,  it  is  not 
there  I  sent  you."  At  the  same  time  he  pointed  to 
different  posts  to  divide  them;  to  which  they  went, 
believing  their  enterprise  had  not  been  discovered. 
This  order,  which  he  gave  without  emotion,  envinces 
a  great  presence  of  mind  jn  Agesilaus,  and  shows, 
that  in  times  of  trouble  it  is  not  proper  to  see  too 
much,  that  the  culpable  may  not  want  time  to  relied 
and  repent,  lie  thought  it  more  advisable  to  sup- 
pose that  small  troop  innocent,  than  to  urge  them  to 
a  declared  revolt  by  a  too  rigorous  inquiry. 

The  Eurotas  was  at  that  time  very  much  swollen 
by  the  melting  of  the  snows,  and  the  Thebans  found 
more  difficulty  in  passing  it  than  they  expected,  as 
well  from  the  extreme  coldness  of  the  water,  as  its 
rapidity.  As  Epaminondas  passed  at  the  head  of  his 
infantry,  some  of  the  Spartans  pointed  him  out  to 
Agesilaus:  who,  after  having  attentively  considered 
and  followed  him  with  his  eyes  a  long  time,  said 
only,  "Wonderful  man!"1  in  admiration  of  the 
valour  that  induced  him  to  undertake  such  great 
things.  Epaminondas  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
given  battle  in  Sparta  itself,  and  to  have  erected  a 
trophy  in  the  midst  of  it.  He  did  not  however  dare 
to  attempt  the  forcing  of  the  city;  and  not  being 
able  to  induce  Agesilaus  to  quit  it,  chose  to  retire. 
It  would  have  been  difficult  lor  Sparta,  without  aid, 
and  unfortified,  to  have  defended  itself  long  against 
t  victorious  army.  But  the  prudent  captain  who 
commanded  it  was  apprehensive  of  drawing  upon  his 
bands  the  whole  force  of  Peloponnesus,  and  still 
more,  of  exciting  the  jealousy  of  the  Greeks,  who 
would  never  have  pardoned  his  destroying  so  potent 
a  republic,  and  pulling  out,  as  Leptius  says,  one  of 
the  eyes  of  Greece,  as  a  proof  of  his  skill.*  He 
confined  himself  therefore  to  the  glory  of  having 
humbled  the  proud,  whose  laconic  language  added 
ntw  haughtiness  to  their  commands,  and  of  having 
reduced  them  to  the  necessity,  as  he  boasted  himself, 
of  lengthening  their  monosyllables.3  On  his  return 
he  again  wasted  the  country. 

In  this  expedition  the  Thebans  reinstated  Arcadia 
into  one  bcdy,*  and  took  Messenia  from  the  Spar- 
fans,  who  had  been  in  possession  of  it  very  long,5 
after  having  expelled  all  its  inhabitants.  It  was  a 
country  equal  in  extent  to  Laconia,  and  as  fertile  as 
the  best  soil  in  Greece  Its  ancient  inhabitants,  who 
were  dispersed  in  different  regions  of  Greece,  Italy, 
and  Sicily,  on  the  first  notice  given  them,  returned 
with  incredible  joy  ;  animated  by  the  love  of  their 
Country,  natural  to  all  men,  and  almost  as  much  by 
th«.:r  hatred  of  the  Spartans,  which  length  of  time 
had  o.:'y  increased.  They  built  themselves  a  city, 
which,  from  the  name  of  the  old  one,  was  called 
Messene.  Amongst  the  unhappy  events  of  this  war, 
none  gave  the  Lacedaemonians  more  sensible  dis- 
pleasure, or  rather  more  lively  grief,  than  this; 
because  from  time  immemorial  an  irreconcilable 
enmity  had  subsisted  between  Sparta  and  Messene, 
which  seemed  incapable  of  being  extinguished  but 
by  the  final  ruin  of  the  one  or  the  other. 

Polybius  points  out  an  ancient  error  in  the  conduct 
of  the  Messenians  with  regard  to  Sparta,6  which  was 
tho  cause  of  all  their  misfortunes.  This  was  their 
too  great  solicitude  for  present  tranquillity,  and 
through  an  excessive  love  of  peace,  their  neglecting 
the  means  of  making  it  sure  and  lasting.  Two  of  the 


prcnion   is  not  easy  to  be  translated.    It  signifies,  Oh  the 
«rtnr  of  great  deed*. 

•  Arist.  Khet.  I.  iii.  c.  10. 

•  The  Lacedaemonians  answered  the  mo*t  important  de- 


span-lie*  liy  a  single  monosyllable.  Philip  having  written  to 
them.  '*  If  I  enter  your  country,  I  wiU  put  all  to  fire  and 
iwurd,"  they  replied,  "If;"  to  dignify  they  would  take  all 
ponailile  care  to  put  it  out  of  his  power. 

«  Pam.  I.  iv.  p.  207,  ait*. 

•  The  Mcsannians  I) ad  been  driven  out  of  their  country 
967  years.  •  I'olyb.  I.  iv.  p.  299,  300. 


most  powerful  states  of  Greece  were  their  neigh 
bours,  the  Arcadians  and  Lacedaemonians.  Tha 
latter,  from  their  first  settlement,  in  the  country,  had 
declared  open  war  against  them:  the  others,  on  the 
contrary,  always  joined  with  them,  and  entered  into 
all  their  interests'.  But  the  Messenians  had  neither 
the  courage  to  oppose  their  violent  and  irreconcilable 
enemies  with  valour  and  constancy,  nor  the  jnudence 
to  treat  with  due  regard  their  faithful  and  afleclionate 
allies.  When  the  two  states  were  either  at  war  with 
each  other,  or  carried  their  arms  elsewhere,  the 
Messeniaiis,  with  little  foresight  for  the  future  and 
regarding  only  their  present  repose,  made  it  a  rule 
never  to  engage  in  the  quarrel  on  either  side,  and  to 
observe  an  exact  neutrality.  On  such  conjunctures 
they  congratulated  themselves  upon  their  wisdom 
anJ  success  in  preserving  their  tranquillity,  whilst 
their  neighbours  all  around  them  were  involved  in 
trouble  and  confusion.  But  this  tranquillity  was 
of  no  long  duration.  The  Lacedaemonians  having 
subdued  their  enemies,  fell  upon  them  with  all  thei'r 
forces;  and  finding  them  unsupported  by  allies,  and 
incapable  of  defending  themselves,  they  reduced  them 
to  submit,  either  to  the  yoke  of  a  rigid  slavery,  or 
to  banish  themselves  from  their  country.  And  this 
was  several  times  their  case.  They  ought  to  have 
reflected,  sa\s  PoUbius,7  that  as  there  is  nothing 
more  desirable  or  advantageous  than  peace,  when 
founded  on  justice  and  honour;  so  there  is  nothing 
more  shameful,  and  at  the  same  time  more  per- 
nicious, when  attained  by  bad  measures,  and  pur- 
chased at  the  price  of  liberty. 

SECTION  V.— THE  TWO  THEBAN  GENERALS,  AT 
THKIR  RETURN,  ARE  ACCUSED  AND  ACQUITTED. 
SPARTA  IMPLORES  AID  OF  THE  ATHENIANS.  THE 
GREEKS  SEND  AMBASSADORS  TO  ARTAXKRXKS. 
INFLUENCE  OF  PELOPIDAS  AT  THE  COURT  OF 
PERSIA. 

IT  might  be  expected,  that  the  two  Theban 
captains,  on  their  return  to  their  country  after  such 
memorable  actions,  should  have  been  received  with 
general  applause,  and  all  the  honours  that  could  be 
conferred  upon  them.  Instead  of  which,  they  were 
both  summoned  to  answer  as  criminal"  against  the 
state;  in  having,  contrary  to  the  law,  whereby  they 
were  obliged  to  resign  their  command  to  new  officers, 
retained  it  four  months  beyond  the  appointed  term; 
during  which  they  had  executed  in  Messenia,  Arca- 
dia, and  Laconia,  all  those  great  exploits  we  have 
related. 

Such  conduct  Is  surprising,  and  the  relation  of  it 
cannot  be  read  without  a  secret  indignation:  but  it 
had  a  very  plausible  foundation.  The  zealous  asser- 
tors  of  a  liberty  lately  regained,  were  apprehensive 
that  the  example  might  prove  very  pernicious,  in 
authorizing  some  future  magistrate  to  maintain  him- 
self in  command  beyond  the  established  term,  and 
in  consequence  to  turn  his  arms  against  his  country. 
It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  but  the  Romans  would  have 
acted  in  the  same  manner;  and  if  they  were  so 
severe  as  to  put  an  officer  to  death,  though  victo- 
rious, for  having  fought  without  his  general's  orders 
how  would  they  have  behaved  to  a  general  who 
should  have  continued  four  months  in  the  supreme 
command,  contrary  to  the  laws? 

Pelopidas  was  the  first  cited  before  the  tribunal.* 
He  defended  himself  with  less  force  and  greatness  of 
mind  than  was  expected  from  a  man  of  his  character 
for  he  was  naturally  warm  and  fiery.  That  valour, 
haughty  and  intrepid  in  fight,  forsook  him  before  the 
judges.  His  air  and  discourse,  which  had  something 
timid  and  grovelling  in  it,  denoted  a  man  who  ivas 
afraid  of 'death,  and  did  not  in  the  least  incline  the 
judges  in  hi*  favour,  and  it  was  not  without  difficulty 
that  they  acquitted  him.  Epaminoiulas  appeared, 
and  spoke  with  a  quite  different  air  and  tone.  Ha 
seemed,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  to  charg* 
danger  in  front  without  emotion.  Instead  of  justi- 


•  Plut.  do  sui  laude,  p.  5-10 


47b 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


fying  himself,  he  made  a  panegyric  upon  his  actions, 
and  repeated  in  a  lofty  style,  in  whfit  manner  he  had 
ravaged  Laconia,  re-established  Messenia,  and  reu- 
nited Arcadia  in  one  body.  He  concluded  with  say- 
ing, that  he  should  die  with  pleasure,  if  the  Thebans 
Would  concede  the  sole  glory  of  those  actions  to  him, 
and  declare  that  he  had  done  them  by  his  own  au- 
thority, and  without  their  participation.  All  the 
voices  were  in  his  favour;  and  he  returned  from  his 
trial,  as  he  used  to  return  from  battle,  with  glory  and 
universal  applause.  Such  dignity  has  true  valour, 
that  it  in  a  manner  seizes  the  admiration  of  mankind 
by  force. 

He  was  by  nature  designed  for  great  actions,  and 
gave  an  air  of  grandeur  to  every  thing  he  did.  His 
enemies,1  jealous  of  his  glory,  and  with  design  to  af- 
front him,  got  him  elected  Telearch;  an  office  very 
unworthy  of  a  person  of  his  merit.  He'  however 

bought  it  no  dishonour  to  him,  and  said,  that  he 
would  demonstrate,  that  "the  office  did  not  only 
chow  what  the  man  was,  but  also  the  man  what  the 
office  was.2  He  accordingly  raised  that  employment 
to  very  great  dignity,  which  before  consisted  in  only 
taking  care  that  the  streets  were  kept  clean,  the  dirt 
carried  away,  and  the  drains  and  common  sewers  in 
good  order. 

The  Lacedaemonians,8  having  every  thing  to  fear 
from  an  enemy,  whom  the  late  successes  had  render- 
ed still  more  haughty  and  enterprising  thnn  ever,  and 
•«j::ing  themselves  exposed  every  moment,  to  a  new 

nroad,  had  recourse  to  the  Athenians,  and  sent  de- 
puties to  them  to  implore  their  aid.  The  person  who 
spoke,  began  with  describing  in  the  most  pathetic 
terms,  the  deplorable  condition  and  extreme  danger 
to  which  Sparta  was  reduced.  He  enlarged  upon  the 
insolent  haughtiness  of  the  Thebans,  and  their  ambi- 
tious views,  which  tended  to  nothing  lesss  than  the 
making  themselves  masters  of  all  Greece.  He  insinu- 
ated what  Athens  in  particular  had  to  fear  from  them, 
if  they  were  suffered  to  extend  their  power  by  the 
increase  of  allies,  who  every  day  went  over  to  their 
party  and  augmented  their  forces.  He  called  to 
mind  the  happy  times  in  which  the  strict  union  be- 
twixt Athans  and  Sparta  had  preserved  Greece,  and 
contributed  to  the  equal  glory  of  both  states;  and 
concluded  with  saying,  how  great  an  addition  it  would 
be  to  the  Athenian  name,  to  aid  a  city,  its  ancient 
friend  and  ally,  which  more  than  once  had  generously 
sacrified  itself  for  the  common  interest  and  safety. 

*The  Athenians  could  not  deny  all  that  the  deputy 
advanced  in  his  discourse,  but  at  the  same  time  they 
had  not  forgotten  the  bad  treatment  which  they  had 
suffered  frocn  the  Spartans  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
and  especially  after  the  defeat  in  Sir.ily.  However, 
their  compassion  of  the  present  misfortunes  of  Sparta 
prevailed  over  their  resentment  of  former  injuries, 
and  determined  them  to  assist  the  Lacedaemonians 
with  all  their  forces.  A  short  time  after,4  the  depu- 
ties of  several  states  being  assembled  at  Athens,  a 
league  and  confederacy  was  concluded  against  the 
Thebans,  conformably  to  the  late  treaty  of  Antalci- 
das,  and  the  intention  of  the  king  of  Persia,  who  was 
continually  urging  its  execution. 

A  slight  advantage  gained  by  the  Spartans  over  their 
enemies,5  raised  them  from  that  dejection  of  spirits  in 
which  they  had  hitherto  remained;  as  it  generally 
happens,  that  in  a  mortal  distemper  the  least  glimpse 
of  a  recovery  enlivens  hope  and  recalls  joy.  Archi- 
danius,  son  of  Agesilaus,  having  received  a  considera- 
ble aid  from  Dionysius  the  Younger,  tyrant  of  Sicily, 
put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  and  defeated  the 
Arcadians  in  a  battle,  called  the  battle  without  tears,6 
because  he  did  not  lose  a  man,  and  killed  a  great 
number  of  the  enemy.  The  Spartans  before  had  been 
so  much  Bccumstomed  to  conquer,  that  they  had  be- 
come almost  insensible  to  the  pleasure  of  victor}': 

•  Plut.  de  Precept,  reip.  per.  p.  811. 

»  Oil  yuivov  ifXfl  «"£?«    ili'xvvjii-,  «X».i  K«i  ifxi"  *v$f. 

•  Xenoph.  I.  vi.  p.  009—613. 
«  Xenoph.  I   vii.  p.  613 — 616. 

•  Plut.  in   Ageaii.  p.  614,  615.     Xenoph.  1.  vii.  p.  619. 
090. 

«  Diod.  I.  zv.  p.  383. 


but  when  the  news  of  this  battle  arrived,  and  they 
saw  Archidarnus  return  victorious,  they  cou  d  not  con- 
tain their  joy,  nor  keep  within  the  city.  His  father 
was  the  first  that  went  out  to  meet  him,  weeping  with 
joy  and  tenderness.  He  was  followed  by  the  officers 
and  magistrates.  The  crowd  of  old  men  and  woniec 
came  down  as  far  as  the  river,  lifting  up  their  hands  to 
heaven,  end  returning  thanks  to  the  go:ls,  as  if  th'w 
action  had  obliterated  the  shame  of  Spartu,  and  they 
began  to  see  those  happy  days  again,  in  which  the 
Spartan  glory  and  reputation  had  risen  so  high. 

Philiscus,7  who  had  been  sent  by  the  king  of  Per- 
sia to  reconcile  the  Grecian  states,  was  arrived  at  Del- 
phi, whither  he  summoned  their  deputies  to  repair. 
The  god  was  not  at  all  consulted  in  the  affair  which 
was  discussed  in  the  assembly.  The  Spartan?  de- 
manded, that  Messene  and  its  inhabitants  should  re- 
turn to  their  obedience  to  them.  Upon  the  Theban's 
refusal  to  comply  with  that  demand,  the  assembly 
broke  up,  and  Philiscus  retired,  after  having  left  con- 
siderable sums  of  money  with  the  Lacedaemonians  fof 
levying  troops  and  carrying  on  the  war.  Sparta,  re- 


inquietude. 

To  form  a  league  against  Thebes  with  greater  cer 
taint)-,8  the  allies  had  sent  deputies  to  the  great  king. 
The  Thebans  on  their  side  deputed  Pelopidas;  an  ex- 
tremely Vvise  choice,  from  the  great  reputation  of  the 
ambassadors,  which  is  no  indifferent  circumstance  in 
respect  to  the  success  of  a  negotiation.  The  battle 
of  Leuctra  had  spread  his  fame  into  the  remotest  pro- 
vinces of  Asia.  When  he  arrived  at  the  court,  and 
appeared  amongst  the  princes  and  nobility,  they  cried 
out  in  admiration  of  him,  "This  is  he  who  deprived 
the  Lacedaemonians  of  their  empire  by  sea  and  land, 
and  reduced  Sparta,  to  confine  itself  between  the  Eu- 
rotus  and  Taygetus;  Sparta,  that  not  long  since,  un- 
der its  king  Agesilaus,  threateued  no  less  than  to 
invade  us  in  Susa  and  Ecbatana." 

Artaxerxes,  extremely  pleased  with  his  arrival,  paid 
him  extraordinary  honours,  and  piqued  himself  upon 
extolling  him  highly  before  the  lords  of  his  court;  in 
esteem  indeed  of  his  great  merit,  but  much  more  out 
of  vanity  and  self-love,  and  to  insinuate  to  his  sub- 
jects, that  the  greatest  and  most  illustrious  persons 
made  their  court  to  him,  and  paid  homage  to  his 
power  and  good  fortune.  But  after  having  admitted 
him  to  audience,  and  heard  his  discourse,  in  his  opin- 
ion more  nervous  than  that  of  the  Athenian  ambassa- 
dors, and  more  simple  than  that  of  the  Lacedaemoni- 
ans, which  was  saying  a  great  deal,  he  esteemed  him 
more  than  ever;  and  as  it  is  common  with  kings,9  who 
are  but  little  accustomed  to  constraint,  he  did  not 
dissemble  his  extreme  regard  for  him,  and  his  pre- 
ference of  him  to  all  the  rest  of  the  Grecian  deputies 

Pelopida?,  as  an  able  politician,  had  apprized  the 
king,  how  important  it  was  to  the  interest  of  his  crown 
to  protect  an  infant  power,  which  had  never  borne 
arms  against  the  Persians,  and  which,  in  forming  a 
kind  of  balance  between  Sparta  and  Athens,  might  be 
able  to  make  a  useful  diversion  against  those  repu- 
blics, the  perpetual  and  irreconcilable  enemies  of  Per- 
sia, and  which  had  lately  caused  it  so  many  losses  and 
inquietudes,  Timagoras,  the  Athenian,  was  the  best 
received  after  him:  because  being  passionately  desi- 
rous of  humbling  Sparta,  and  at  the  same  time  of 
pleasing  the  king,  he  did  not  appear  averse  to  the  views 
of  Pelopidas. 

The  king  having  pressed  Pelopidas  to  explain  what 
favours  he  had  to  ask  of  him,  he  demanded,  "  That 
Messene  should  continue  free  and  exempt  from  the 
yoke  of  Sparta;  that  the  Athenian  galleys,  which  had 
sailed  to  infest  the  coast  of  Boeotia,  should  be  recalled, 
or  that  war  should  be  declared  against  Athens;  that 
those  who  would  not  come  into  the  league,  or  march 
against  such  as  should  oppose  it,  should  be  attacked 
first."  All  which  was  decreed,  and  the  Thebans  de- 


t  Xenoph.  p.  619.    Diod.  p.  381. 
'  Xenoph.  I.  vii.  p.  C20—  622.    Plut. 


in  Pelop.  p.  21)4, 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


470 


dared  friends  and  allies  of  the  king.  When  this  de- 
cree was  read  to  the  ambassadors,  Leon,  Timagoras's 
colleague,  said,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  Artaxer- 
xes,  "  Athens  ha*  nothing  now  to  do  but  to  find  some 
Other  ally  than  the  king." 

Pelopfdas,  having  obtained  all  he  desired,  left  the 
court,  without  accepting  any  more  of  the  king's  many 
presents,  than  what  was  necessary  to  carry  home  as  a 
token  of  his  favour  and  good  will;  and  this  aggrava- 
ted the  complaints  which  were  made  against  the  other 
Grecian  ambassadors,  who  were  not  so  reserved  and 
drlirate  in  point  of  interest.  One  of  them,  the  envoy 
from  the  Arcadians,  said,  on  his  return  home,  that  he 
hud  seen  mswiv  slaves  at  the  king's  court  but  no  men. 
He  added,  that  all  his  magnificence  was  no  more 
than  vain  ostentation,  and  that  the  so-much-boast- 
ed plane-tree  of  gold,1  which  was  valued  at  so  high 
a  price,  had  not  shade  enough  under  it  for  a  grass- 
hopper. 

Of  all  the  deputies,  Timagoras  had  received  the 
most  presents.  He  did  not  only  accept  of  gold  and 
silver,  but  of  a  magnificent  btd,  and  slaves  to  make  it, 
the  Greeks  not  seeming  to  him  expert  enough  in  that 
office;  which  shows  that  sloth  and  luxury  were  little 
in  fashion  at  Athens.  He  received  also  twenty-four 
cows  with  slaves  to  take  care  of  them:  as  it  was  ne- 
cessary for  him  to  drink  milk  for  some,  indisposition. 
Lastly,  at  his  departure,  he  was  carried  in  a  chair  to 
the  sea-side  at  tile  king's  expense,  who  gave  four  ta- 
lents 2  for  that  service.  His  colleague,  Leon,  on  their 
arrival  at  Athens,  accused  him  of  not  having  held  any 
communication  with  him,  and  of  having  joined  with 
Pelopidas  in  every  thing.  He  was  brought  to  trial 
in  consequence,  and  condemned  to  suffer  death. 

It  does  not  appear  that  the  acceptance  of  present? 
was  what  most  incensed  the  Athenians  against  Tima- 
goras. For  Epicrates,  a  simple  porter,  who  had  been 
at  the  Persian  court,  and  had  also  received  presents, 
having  said,  in  a  full  assembly,  that  he  was  of  opinion 
a  decree  ought  to  pass,  by  which,  instead  of  the  nine 
archons  annually  elected,  nine  ambassadors  should  be 
chosen  out  of  Ine  poorest  of  the  people,  to  be  sent  to 
the  king,  in  order  to  theirbeing  enriched  by  the  voy- 
age: the  assembly  only  laughed  and  made  ajest  of 
it.  But  what  offended  them  more,  was  the  Thebans 
having  obtained  all  they  demanded.  In  which,  says 
Plutarch,  they  did  not  duly  consider  the  great  reputa- 
tion of  Pelopidas,  nor  comprehend  how  much  stronger 
and  more  efficacious  that  was  in  persuading,  than  all 
the  harangues  and  rhetorical  flourishes  of  the  other 
ambassadors;  especially  with  a  prince  accustomed  to 
caress  and  con.ply  with  the  strongest,  as  the  Thebans 
undoubtedly  were  at  that  time,  and  who  besides  was 
not  sorry  to  humble  Sparta  and  Athens,  the  ancient 
and  mortal  enemies  of  his  throne. 

The  esteem  and  regard  of  the  Thebans  for  Pelopi- 
das were  not  a  little  augmented  by  the  good  success 
of  this  embassy,  which  nad  procured  the  freedom  of 
Greece,  and  the  re-eslablishment  of  Messene;  and 
he  was  extremely  applauded  for  his  conduct  at  his 
return. 

But  Thessalia  was  the  theatre  where  the  valour  of 
Pelopidas  made  tne  greatest  figure,  in  the  expedition 
with  which  hf  was  commissioned  by  the  Thebans 
against  Alexander,  tyrant  of  Pheras.  I  shall  relate  it 
entire,  and  unite  under  one  point  of  view  all  which 
relates  to  that  great  event,  without  any  oiher  inter- 
ruption than  the  journey  of  Pelopidas  into  Macedo- 
nia to  appease  the  troubles  of  that  court. 

SECTION  VI.— PELOPIDAS  MARCHES  AGAINST 
ALEXA.M  CR,  TYRANT  OF  PHER.«,  AND  REDUCES 
HIM  TO  FEASON.  HE  GOES  TO  MACEDONIA,  TO 
APPEASE  THE  TROUBLES  OF  THAT  COURT,  AND 
BRINGS  PHILIP  TO  THEBES  AS  A  HOSTAGE.  HE 
RETURNS  INTO  THESSAI.Y,  IS  SEIZED  BY  TREA- 
CHERY, AND  MADE  A  PRISONER.  EPAMINONDAS 
DELIVERS  HIM.  PELOPIDAS  GAINS  A  VICTORY 
AGAINST  THE  TYRANT,  AND  IS  KILLED  IN  THE 


i  It  wa*  a  tree  of  gold,  of  exquiiite  workmanship,  and 
freal  value,  »hir.h  people  went  to  we  out  of  curiosity. 
•  Four  thou'iand  crowns. 


BATTLE.       EXTRAORDINARY    HONOURS  PAID    TO 

HIS  MEMORY.      TRAGICAL  END  OF  ALEX.AM)EB. 

THE  reduced  condition  of  Sparta 
and  Athens,8  which  for  many  years  A.  M.  3634. 
had  dominion  overall  Greece,  either  Ant.  J.  C.  370. 
in  conjunction  or  separately,  had  in- 
spired some  of  their  neighbours  with  the  desire  of  sup- 
planting those  cities,  and  given  birth  to'the  hope,  of 
succeeding  them  in  the  pre-eminence.  A  power  had 
risen  up  in  Thessaly,  which  began  to  grow  formida- 
ble. Jason,  tyrant  of  Pherse,  had  been  declared  ge- 
neralissimo ol  tlie  Thessalians  by  the  consent  of  all 
the  people  of  that  province;  and  it  was  to  his  merit 
which  was  generally  acknowledged,  that  he  owed 
that  dignity.  He  was  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  above 
8000  horse  and  20,000  heavy-armed  foot,  without 
reckoning  the  light-armed  soldiers,  and  might  have 
undertaken  any  thing  with  such  a  body  of  disciplined 
and  intrepid  troops,  who  had  an  entire  confidence  in 
the  valour  and  conduct  of  their  general.  But  death 
prevented  his  designs.  He  was  assassinated  by  per- 
sons who  had  conspired  his  destruction. 

His  two  brothers,  Polydorus  and  Polyphron.  were 
substituted  in  his  place,  the  latter  of  whom  killed  the 
other  for  the  sake  of  reigning  alone,  and  was  soon  af- 
ter killed  himself  by  Alexanderof  PherK,  who  seized 
the  tyranny  under  the  pretence  of 
avenging  the  death  of  Polydorus  his  A,  M.  3635 
father.  Against  him  Pelopidas  was  Ant.  J.  C.  369. 
sent. 

As  the  tvrant  made  open  war  against  several  states 
of  Thessaly,  and  was  secretly  intriguing  to  subject 
them  all,  the  cities  sent  ambassadors  to  Thebes  to  de- 
mand troops  and  a  general.  Epaminondas  being  em- 
ployed in  Peloponnesus,  Pelopidas  took  upon  him- 
self the  conduct  of  this  expedition.  He  set  out  for 
Thessaly  with  an  army,  made  himself  master  of  La- 
rissa,  and  obliged  Alexander  to  make  his  submission 
to  him.  He  there  endeavoured,  by  mild  usage  and 
friendship,  to  change  his  disposition,  and  from  a  ty- 
rant to  make  him  become  a  just  and  humane  prince; 
but  finding  him  incorrigible,  and  of  unexampled  bru- 
tality, and  hearing  new  complaints  every  day  of  hi§ 
cruelty,  debauched  life,  and  insatiable  avarice,  he  be- 
gan to"  employ  warm  reproofs  and  severe  menaces. 
The  tyrant,  alarmed  at  such  usage,  withdrew  secretly 
with  his  guard;  and  Pelopidas,  leaving  the  Thessali- 
ans in  security  from  any  attempts  of  the  tyrant,  and 
in  good  understanding  with  each  other,  set  out  for 
Macedonia,  where  his  presente  had  been  desired. 

Amyntas  II.  was  lately  dead,  and  had  left  three 
legitimate  children,  Alexander,  Perdiccas,  and  Phi- 
lip, and  one  natural  son, called  Ptolmev.  Alexander 
reigned  but  one  year,  and  was  succeeded  by  Perdic- 
cas,* with  whom  his  brother  Ptolemy  disputed  the 
crown.  The  two  brothers  invited  Pelopidos  either  to 
be  the  arbitrator  and  judge  of  their  quarrel,  or  to 
espouse  the  side  on  which  he  should  see  the  most 
right. 

Pelopidag  was  no  sooner  arrived,  than  he  put  an 
end  to  all  their  disputes,  and  recalled  those  who  had 
been  banished  by  either  party.  Havingtaken  Philip, 
the  brother  of  Perdiccas,  anci  thirty  other  children  of 
the  noblest  families  of  Macedonia  for  hostages,  he 
carried  them  to  Thebes,  to  show  the  Greeks  how  far 
the  authoriry  of  the  Thebans  extended,  from  the  re- 
putation of  their  arms,  and  the  entire  confidence  that 
was  placed  in  their  justice  and  fidelity.  It  was  this 
Philip  who  was  father  of  Alexander  the  Great,  and 
afterwards  made  war  against  the  Greeks,  to  subject 
them  to  his  power. 

The  troubles  and  factions  arose  again  in  Macedonia 
some  years  after,  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Perdir- 
cas,  w:ho  wa*  killed  in  a  battle.  The  friends  of  the 
deceased  railed  in  Pelopidas.  Being  desirous  to  «r- 


»  Xenoph.  I.  vi.  p.  579— 5P3,  «l  5«J8— «M.  Diod.  I.  *T.  p 
371-373. 

«  Plutarch  make*  this  quarrel  betwwn  Alexander  and 
Ptolemy  ;  which  cannot  agree  with  .£«-hine*'»  account  (<fc 
Fal«.  Lepat.  p.  400.)  of  the  affair*  of  Perdicca*  after  Alex 
andcr's  death,  which  I  shall  relate  in  the  history  of  Philip. 
As  .f^crilne-i  wan  contemporary  with  them,  I  thought  H 
proper  to  substitute  Perdierai  in  tbo  place  of  Alexander. 


•480 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


nve  before  Ptolemy,  who  was  making  new  efforts  to 
establish  himself  upon  the  throne,  had  time  to  execute 
his  projects;  and  not  having  an  army,  he  raised  some 
mercenary  troops  in  haste,  with  whom  he  marched 
against  Ptolemy.  When  they  were  near  each  olher, 
Ptolemy  found  means  to  corrupt  those  mercenary 
soldiers  by  presents  of  money,  and  to  bring  them  over 
to  his  side.«  At  the  same  time,  awed  by  the  reputa- 
tion and  name  of  Pelopidas,  he  went  to  meet  him 
as  hi.s  superior  and  master,  had  recourse  to  caresses 
and  entreaties,  and  promised  in  the  most  solemn  man- 
ner to  hold  the  crown  only  as  guardian  to  the  son  of 
the  deceased,  to  acknowledge  as  friends  and  enemies 
all  tluise  who  were  so  to  the  Thebansj^and  as  secu- 
rity for  his  engagements,  he  gave  his  son  Philoxenns 
and  fifty  oth^r  children,  who  were  educated  with 
him  as  hostages.  These  Pelopidas  sent  to  Thebes. 

The  treachery  of  the  mercenary  soldiers  ran  very 
much  in  his  thoughts.  He  was  informed  that  they 
had  sent  the  greatest  part  of  their  effects,  with  their 
wives  and  children,  into  the  city  of  Pharsalus,1  and 
conceived  that  to  be  a  fair  opportunity  for  being  re- 
veuged  on  them  for  their  perndy.  He  therefore  drew 
together  some  Thessalian  troops,  and  marched  to 
Pharsalus,  where  he  was  scarce  arrived  before  Alex- 
ander the  tyrant  came  against  him  with  a  powerful 
army.  Pelopidas,  who  had  been  appointed  ambassa- 
dor to  him,  believing  that  he  came  to  justify  himself, 
and  to  answer  the  complaints  of  the  Fhebans,  went 
to  him  accompanied  only  by  Ismemas,  without  any 
precaution.  He  was  not  ignorant  of  his  being  an  im- 
pious wretch,  as  void  of  faith  as  of  honour;  but  he 
imagined,  that  respect  for  Thebes,  and  regard  to  his 
dignity  and  reputation,  would  prevent  him  from  at- 
tempting any  thing  against  his  person.  He  was  mis- 
taken: for  the  tyrant,  seeing  them  alone  and  unarmed, 
made  them  bot*h  prisoners,  and  seized  Pharsalus. 

Polybius  exceedingly  blames  the  imprudence  of  Pe- 
lopidas upon  this  occasion.2  There  are,  says  he,  in 
the  intercourse  of  society,  certain  assurances,  and,  as 
it  were,  ties  of  sincerity,  upon  which  one  may  rea- 
sonably relv:  such  are  the  sanctity  of  oaths,  the 
pledge  of  wives  and  children  delivered  as  hostages, 
and  above  all  the  consistency  of  the  past  conduct  of 
those  with  whom  one  treats;  when,  notwithstanding 
those  motives  for  our  confidence,  we  are  deceived,  it 
is  a  misfortune,  but  not  a  fault:  but  to  trust  one's 
self  to  a  notorious  traitor  and  villain,  is  certainly  an 
instance  of  temerity  for  which  there  is  no  excuse. 

This  heinous  perfidy  of  Alexander  filled  the  minds 
of  all  his  subjects  with  terror  and  distrust,8  who  very 
much  suspected,  that,  after  so  flagrant  an  injustice 
and  so  daring  a  crime,  the  tyrant  would  spare  nobody, 
and  would  behave  upon  all  occasions,  and  towards  nil 
sorts  of  people,  as  a  man  in  despair,  that  needed  no 
farther  regard  to  his  conduct  and  actions.  When 
the  news  was  brought  to  Thebes,  the  Thebans,  in- 
censed at  so  base  a  deed,  immediately  sent  an  army 
into  Thessaly ;  and  as  they  were  displeased  with  Epa- 
minondas,  whom  they  suspected,  though  without  any 
good  reason,  of  having  been  too  favourable  to  the  La- 
cedoemonians  upon  a  certain  occasion,  they  nominated 
other  generals;  *o  that  he  served  in  this  expedition 
only  as  a  private  man.  The  lore  of  his  country  and 
of  the  public  good  extinguished  all  resentment  in  the 
heart  of  that  great  man,  and  would  not  permit  him,  as 
is  but  too  common,  to  abandon  its  service  through 
any  pique  of  honour  or  personal  discontent. 

The  tyrant  in  the  mean  time  carried  Pelopidas  to 
Pherne,  an  I  made  a  show  of  him  to  all  the  world  at 
first,  imagining  that  such  a  treatment  would  humble 
his  pride  and  abate  his  courage.  But  Pelopidas,  see- 
ing the  inhabitants  of  Pheras  in  great  consternation, 
perpetually  consoled  them,  advising  them  not  to  de- 
spair, and  assuring  them  that  it  would  not  be  long  be- 
fore the  tyrant  would  be  punished.  He  caused  him 
to  be  told,  that  it  was  very  imprudent  and  very  un- 
just to  torture  aiH  put  to  o^eath  every  day  so  many  in- 
nocent citizen*,  that  had  never  done  him  any  wrong, 
ind  to  spare  his  life,  who.  he  knew,  would  no  sooner 


l  A  ritrofTheioa/y.  •  Lib.  viii.  p.  512. 

i  Plut   hi  Pelop.  p.  1P3, 2-.I3.    Diod.  1.  zv.  p.  382, 383. 


be  out  of  his  hands,  than  he  would  punish  him  as  his 
crimes  deserved.  The  tyrant,  astonished  at  his  great 
ness  of  soul,  sent  to  ask  him  why  he  took  so  much 
pains  to  meet  death?  "  It  is,"  returned  the  illusln* 
ous  prisoner,  "  that  thou  mayest  perish  the  sooner 
by  becoming  still  more  detestable  to  the  gods  and 
men." 

From  that  time  the  tyrant  gave  orders  that  nobody 
should  see  or  speak  to  him.  But  Thtbe,  his  wife 
the  daughter  of  Jason,  who  had  also  been  urant  of 
Phene,  having  heard  of  the  constancy  and  rouragtof 
Pelopidas  from  those  who  guarded  him,  had  a  curio- 
sity to  see  and  converse  with  him;  and  Alexander 
could  not  refuse  her  his  permission.*  He  loved  her 
tenderly  (if  indeed  a  tyrant  may  be  said  to  love  any 
body:)  but  notwithstanding  that  tenderness,  he  treat- 
ed her  very  cruelly,  and  was  in  perpetual  distrust 
even  of  her.  He  never  went  to  her  apartment  with- 
out a  slave  before  him  with  a  naked  sword  in  his  hand, 
and  having  first  sent  some  of  his  guard  to  search  every 
coffer  for  concealed  poniards.  Wretched  prince* 
cries  Cicero,  who  could  confide  more  in  a  slave  anc* 
a  barbarian,  than  in  his  own  wife! 

Thebe  therefore  desiring  to  see  Pelopidas,  found 
him  in  a  melancholy  condition,  dressed  in  a  poor  ha- 
bit, his  hair  and  beard  neglected,  and  void  of  everj 
thing  that  might  console  him  in  his  distress.  JS'ot  be- 
ing able  to  refrain  from  tears  at  such  a  sight,  "  Ah, 
unfortunate  Pelopidas,"  said  she,  "how  I  pity  your 
poor  wife!" — "No  Thebe,"  replied  he,  "  it  is  you 
who  are  to  be  pitied,  who  can  endure  such  a  monster 
as  Alexander,  without  being  hi?  prisoner."  Those 
words  touched  Thebe  to  the  quick,  for  it  was  with 
extreme  reluctance  she  bore  the  tyrant's  cruelty,  vio- 
lence, and  infamous  excesses.  Hence,  by  going  often 
to  see  Pelopidas,  and  openly  bewailing  before  him 
the  injuries  she  suffered,  she  daily  conceived  new  ab- 
horrence for  her  husband,  whilst  hatred  and  the  de- 
sire of  revenge  grew  continually  more  strong  in  her 
heart. 

The  Theban  generals,  who  had  entered  Thes«aly, 
did  nothing  there  of  any  importance,  ana  were  obli- 
ged, by  their  incapacity'and  ill  conduct,  to  abandon 
the  country.  The  tyrant  pursued  them  in  their  re- 
treat, harassed  them  shamefully,  and  killed  abundance 
of  their  troops.  The  whole  army  had  been  defeated 
if  the  soldiers  had  not  obliged  Epaminondas,  who 
served  as  a  private  man  amongst  them,  to  take  upon 
him  the  command.  Epaminondas,  at  the  head  of  the 
cavalry  and  light-armed  foot,  posted  himself  in  the 
rear;  where,  sometimes  sustaining  the  enemy'?  attacks 
and  sometimes  charging  them  in  his  turn,  he  com- 
pleted the  retreat  with  success,  and  preserved  the  Bcco. 
tians.  The  generals  upon  their  return,  were  each 
of  them  fined  10,000  drachmas,5  and  Kpaminomias 
substituted  in  their  place.  As  the  public  good  was 
his  sole  view,  he  overlooked  the  injurious  treatment 
and  kind  of  affront  which  he  had  received,  and  was 
amply  recompensed  by  the  glory  that  attended  so 
generous  and  disinterested  a  conduct. 

Some  days  after  he  marched  at  the  head  of  the  ar- 
my into  Thessaly;  whither  his  reputation  had  prece- 
ded him.  It  had  spread  already  both  terror  and  joy 
through  the  whole  country;  terror  amongst  the  ty- 
rant's friends,  whom  the  very  name  of  Epaminondas 
dismayed,  and  joy  amongst  the  people,  from  the  as- 
surance they  entertained  of  being;  speedily  delivered 
from  the  yoke  of  the  tyranny,  and  the  tyrant  punished 
for  all  his  crimes.  But  Epaminondas,  preferring1  tho 
safety  of  Pelopidas  to  his  own  glory,  instead  of  car 
ryiiig  on  the  war  with  vigour,  as  he  might  have  done, 
chose  rather  to  protract  it,  from  the  apprehension  that 
the  tyrant,  if  reduced  to  despair,  like  a  wild  beast, 
would  turn  his  whole  rage  upon  his  prisoner.  For 
he  knew  the  violence  and  brutality  of  his  nature, 
which  would  hearken  neither  to  reason  nor  justice; 
and  that  he  look  delighj  in  burying  me«i  alive;  that 
some  he  covered  with  the  skins  of  bears  and  wild 
boars,  and  selling  his  dogs  upon  them,  caused  them 
to  be  torn  in  pieces,  or  shot  them  to  death  with  arrows. 
These  were  his  frequent  sports  and  diversions.  In 


«  Cic.  de  Offic.  1.  ii.  n.  25. 


•  About  225;.  iterliof 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


481 


(be  cities  of  Me liboea  and  Scotusa  '  which  were  in 
alliance  with  him,  he  called  an  assembly  of  the  citi- 
lens,  and  causing  them  to  be  surrounded  by  his 
guards,  he  ordered  the  throats  of  all  their  young 
nien  to  be  cut  in  his  presence. 

H«-arii;g  one  day  a  famous  actor  perform  a  part  in 
the  Troa<les  of  Euripedes,  he  suddenly  went  out  of 
the  tlit  ittre,  and  sent  to  the  actor  to  tell  him  not  to 
be  under  any  apprehension  upon  that  account,  for 
that  his  leaving  the  place  was  not  from  being  dis- 
pleased with  him,  but  because  he  was  ashamed  to  let 
the  citizens  see  him  weep  at  the  misfortunes  of 
Hecuba  and  Andromache,  who  had  never  felt  any 
Companion  for  those  tvho  he  had  murdered. 

Though  lie  was  little  susceptible  of  pity,  he  was 
mui  h  so  of  fear  at  this  time.  Amazed  at  the  sudden 
arrival  of  Er>am:nondas,  and  dazzled  with  the  majesty 
that  surrounded  him,  he  made  haste  to  despatch 
persons  to  him  with  apologies  for  his  conduct.-  Epa- 
minondas  could  not  endure  that  the  Thebans  should 
make  either  peace  or  alliance  with  so  nicked  a  man. 
He  only  granted  him  a  truce  for  thirty  days:  and  after 
having  got  Pelopidas  and  I-menias  out  of  his  hands, 
he  retired  with  his  troops. 

Fear  is  not  a  master  whose  lessons  make  any  deep 
and  lusting-  impression  upon  the  mind.2  The  tyrant 
of  Fhene  suon  returned  to  his  natural  disposition. 
He  ruined  several  cities  of  Thessaly,  and  put  garri- 
sons into  those  of  Pythm,  Achsea,  and  Magnesia. 
Those  cities  sent  deputies  to  Thebes  to  demand  a 
succour  of  troops,  praying  that  the  command  of  them 
might  be  given  to  Felopidas;  which  was  granted. 
He  was  upon  the  point  of  setting  out,  when  there 
happened  a  sudden  eclipse  of  the  sun,  by  which  the 
city  of  Thebes  was  darkened  at  noon-day.  The 
dread  and  consternation  were  general.  Felopidas 
knew  very  well  what  to  think  of  (his  accident,  which 
was  no  more  than  was  natural;  but  he  did  not  think 
it  proper  for  him  to  expose  7000  Thebans  against 
their  will,  nor  to  compel  them  to  inarch  in  the  terror 
and  apprehension  with  which  he  perceived  they  were 
seized.  He  therefore  gave  himself  alone  to  the 
Thessalians;  and  taking  with  him  300  horse  of  such 
Thebans  and  strangers  as  would  follow  him,  he 
departed,  contrary  to  the  prohibition  of  the  sooth- 
say t-r-.  and  the  opinion  of  the  most  wise  and  judicious. 

He  was  personally  incensed  against  Alexander, 
through  resentment  of  the  injuries  he  had  received 
What  Thebe  his  wife  had  said,  and  he 


.nrougn  r< 
Voin   him. 


fro _. _  ,  _.._  ... 

himself  knew,  of  the  general  discontent  in  regard  to 
the  tyrant,  yave  him  hopes  of  finding  great  divisions 
in  his  court,  and  a  universal  disposition  to  revolt. 
But  his  s-trongest  motive  was  the  beauty  and 
grandeur  of  the  action  in  itself.  For  his  sole  desire 
»nd  ambition  was  to  show  all  Greece,  that  at  the 
lame  time  that  the  Lacedaemonians  were  sending 
naerah  and  officers  to  Dionysius  the  tyrant,  and  the 
Athenians  on  their  part  were  in  a  manner  in  the  pay 
of  Alexander,  to  whom  they  had  erected  a  statue 
of  brass,  as  to  their  benefactor,  the  Thebans  were  the 
only  people  that  declared  open  war  against  tyranny, 
and  endeavoured  to  exterminate  from  amongst  the 
Greeks  all  unjust  and  violent  government. 

Alter  having  assembled  his  army  at  Fharsalus,  he 
marched  against  the  tyrant;  who,  being  apprised  that 
Pelopidas  had  but  few  Thebans,  and  knowing  that  his 
own  infantry  was  twice  as  strong  as  that  of  the  Thes- 
salimis,  advanced  to  meet  him.  Felopidas  being  told 
by  somebody  that  Alexander  was  approaching  with  a 
great  army;  "so  much  the  better,"  replied  he,  "we 
•hall  beat  the  greater  number." 

.Near  a  place  called  Cynosceithalae.  there  were 
very  high  and  steep  hill?,  which  lay  in  the  midst  of 
the  plain.  Roth  armies  were  in  motion  to  seize  that 
post  with  their  foot,  when  Pelopidas  ordered  his 
cavalry  to  charge  that  of  the  enemy.  The  horse  of 
Pelopidas  broke  Alexander's;  and  whilst  they  pursued 
them  upon  the  plain,  Alexander  appeared  suddenly 
upon  the  top  of  the  hills,  having  outstripjx-d  the 
Ihessdlian  infantry;  and  charging  fiercely  such  as 


i  Citiei  ol  Migneite. 

1'lut.  in  Pelop.  p  898   •»».    Xenoph.  1.  ri.  p.  601. 
VOL.  1-61 


endeavoured  to  force  those  heights  and  intrench 
menu,  he  killed  the  foremost  and  r»pnN«d  tlx 
oftiers,  obliging  them  to  give  way.  Felopidas,  seeing 
tin's,  rt  called  his  horse,  and  giving  them  orders  to 
attack  the  enemy's  foot,  he  took  his  buckler,  and 
ran  to  those  who  were  fighting  upon  the  hills. 

He  presently  made  way  through  his  ini'tntrv,  and 
passing  in  a  moment  from  the  rear  to  the  front, 
revived  his  soldiers'  vigour  and  courage  in  such  a 
manner  as  made  the  enemies  believe  themselves 
attacked  by  fresh  troops.  They  supported  two  or 
three  charges  with  great  rcso'lution;  but  finding 
Felopidas's  mlantry  continually  gaining  ground,  and 
that  his  cavalry,  who  were  now  returned  from  the 
pursuit,  came  to  support  them,  they  began  to  giv* 
way,  and  retired  slowly,  still  making  head  in  thtir 
retreat.  Pelopidas,  seeing  from  the  top  of  the  hills 
the  whole  army  of  the  enemy,  which,  though  it  t\  :* 
not  yet  actually  put  to  flight,  began  to  break,  and 
was  in  great  disorder,  he  stopped  for  some  time, 
looking  about  every  where  for  Alexander. 

As  soon  as  he  perceived  him  upon  his  right  wing, 
rallying  and  encouraging  his  mcrce.narv  soldiers,  he 
could  contain  himselt  no  longer,  but,  tired  with  the 
sight,  and  abandoning  to  his  sole  resentment  the  care 
of  his  life  and  the  conduct  of  the  battle,  he  got  a 
great  way  before  bis  battalions,  and  ran  forwards 
with  all  his  force,  calling  upon  and  delving  Alex- 
ander. The  tyrant  made  no  answer  to  his  defiance, 
and  not  daring  to  wait  his  coming  up.  withdrew  t.> 


hide    himself    amongst 


gst  his  guards.  The  battalion 
standing  firm  for  some  time,  Pelopidas  broke  the  first 
ranks,  and  killed  the  greatest  part  of  the  guards  u|xm 
the  spot.  The  rest,  continuing  the  fight  at  a  distant  e 
pierced  his  arms  and  breast  at  length  with  their  jave- 
lins. The  Thessalians,  alarmed  at  the  danger  in  which 
they  saw  him,  made  all  the  haste  they  could  from  the 
tops  of  the  hills,  to  his  assistance;  but  he  was  fa'lek 
dead  when  they  arrived.  The  infantry  and  the  1  he- 
ban  horse,  returned  to  fight  against  the  enemy's  main 
body,  put  them  to  flight,  and  pursued  them* a  great 
way.  The  plain  was  covered  with  the  dead:  for 
more  than  3000  of  the  tyrant's  troops  were  killed. 

This  action  of  Pelopidas,  though  it  appears  the 
effects  of  a  consummate  valour,  is  inexcusable,  and 
has  been  generally  condemned,  because  there  is  no 
true  valour  without  wisdom  and  prudence.  The 
greatest  courage  is  cool  and  sedate.  It  spares  itself 
where  it  ought,  and  exposes  itself  when  occasion 
makes  it  necessary.  A  general  ought  to  see  every 
thing,  and  to  have  every  thing  in  his  thoughts.  To 
be  in  a  condition  to  apply  the  proper  remedy  on  all 
occasions,  he  must  not  precipitate  himselt  where 
there  is  the  danger  of  his  being  cut  off,  and  of  cau- 
sing the  loss  of  his  army  by  his  death. 

Euripides,9  after  having  said  in  one  of  his  pieces. 


that  it  is  highly  glo 


having  s 
rious  Tor 


the  general  of  an  army 


to  obtain  the  victory  while  he  preserves  his  own  lite, 
adds,  "that  if  it  be  necessary  for  him  to  die,  he 
ought  to  do  so  by  resigning  his  life  into  the  hands  of 
virtue;"  as  if  he  wished  to  imply,  that  virtue  alone, 
not  passion,  auger,  or  revenge,  has  a  right  over  the 
life  of  r  general,  and  that  the  first  duly  of  valour  is 
to  preserve  him  who  preserves  others. 

It  is  in  this  sense  that  the  saying  of  Timotheus  is 
so  just  and  amiable.4  When  Chares  was  one  rlay 
showing  to  the  Athenians  the  wounds  he  had  received 
whilst  he  was  their  general,  and  his  shield  pierced 
through  with  a  pike:  "  For  my  part,"  said  Timotheus, 
"  when  I  WHS  besieging  Samos,  and  a  dart  happened 
to  fall  very  near  me,  I  was  much  ashamed  as  having 
exposed  myself  like  a  young  man  without  ner.s-ity, 
and  more  than  was  consistent  for  the  general  of  so 
great  an  army."  Hannibal  certainly  cannot  b« 
suspected  of  fear,  and  yet  it  has  been  observed,  that 
in  the  great  number  of  battles  which  he  fought,  he 
never  received  any  wound,  except  only  at  the  sieg« 
of  Saguntum. 

It  is  therefore  not  without  reason,  that  Pelopidas  m 
reproached  with  having  sacrified  all  his  other  virtues 
to  his  valour,  by  thus  throwing  away  his  life,  and  with 
havine  died  rather  for  himself  than  his  country. 


Pint,  in  Pelop.  317. 


2Q 


•  Plui.  in  Pelop  p.  878 


482 


HISTORY  OF  THK 


Never  was  a  captain  more  lamented  than  he.  His 
death  changed  the  victory  so  lately  gained  into 
mourning.  A  profound  silence  and  universal  afflic- 
tion  reigned  throughout  the  whole  army,  as  if  it  had 
been  entirely  defeated.  When  his  body  was  carried 
to  Thebes,  from  every  city  through  which  it  passed, 
the  people  of  all  ages  and  sexes,  the  magistrate*  and 
priests,  came  out  to  m*et  the  bier,  and  to  march 
in  procession  before  it,  carrying  crowns,  trophies, 
and  armour,  all  of  gold.  The  Thessalians,  who 
were  at  the  same  time  highly  afflicted  for  hi*  death, 
and  equally  sensible  of  their  obligations  to  him,  made 
it  their  request,  that  they  mignt  be  permitted  to 
celebrate  at  their  sole  expense  the  obsequies  of  a 
general,  who  had  devoted  himself  for  their  preserva- 
tion; and  that  honourable  privilege  could  not  be 
refused  to  their  grateful  zeal.  . 

His  funeral  was  magnificent,  especially  in  the  sin- 
:ere  affliction  of  the  Thebans  and  Thessalians.  For, 
gays  Plutarch,  the  external  pomp  of  mourning,  and 
those  marks  of  sorrow,  which  may  be  imposed  by 
the  public  authority  upon  the  people,  are  not  always 
certain  proofs  of  their  real  sentiments.  The  tears 
which  flow  in  private  as  well  as  public,  the  regret 
expressed  equally  by  great  and  small,  the  praises 
given  by  the  general  and  unanimous  voice  to  a  person 
who  is  no  more,  and  from  whom  nothing  farther  is 
expected,  are  an  evidence  not  to  be  questioned,  and 
a  homage  never  paid  but  to  virtue.  Such  were  the 
obsequies  of  Pelopidas,  and,  in  my  opinion,  nothing 
more  great  and  magnificent  could  be  imagined. 

Thebes  was  not  contented  with  lamenting  Pelo- 
pidas,  but  resolved  to  avenge  him.  A  small  army  of 
7000  foot  and  700  horse  were  immediately  sent 
against  Alexander.  The  tyrant,  who  had  not  yet 
recovered  the  terror  of  his  defeat,  was  in  no  condi- 
tion to  defend  himself.  He  was  obliged  to  restore 
to  the  Thessalians  the  cities  he  had  taken  from  them, 
and  to  give  the  Magnesians,  Pythiots,  and  Achaeans, 
their  liberty;  to  withdraw  his  garrisons  from  their 
country;  and  to  swear  that  he  would  always  obey 
the  Thebans,  and  march  at  their  orders  against  all 
their  enemies. 

Such  a  punishment  was  very  gentle.  Nor,  says 
Plutarch,  did  it  appear  sufficient  to  the  gods,  or 
proportioned  to  his  crimes:  they  had  reserved  one 
for  him  worthy  of  a  tyrant.  Thebe,  his  wife,  who 
saw  with  horror  and  detestation  the  cruelty  and 
perfidy  of  her  husband,  and  had  not  forgotten  the 
"essons  and  advice  which  Pelopidas  had  given  her 
whilst  in  prison,  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with  her 
three  brothers  to  kill  him.  The  tyrant's  whole 
palace  was  full  of  guards,  who  kept  watch  through 
the  whole  night;  but  he  placed  little  confidence  in 
them,  and  as  his  life  was  in  some  sort  in  their  hands, 
he  feared  them  the  most  of  all  men.  He  lay  in  a 
high  chamber,  to  which  he  ascended  by  a  ladder  that 
was  drawn  up  after  his  entrance.  Near  this  chamber 
a  great  dog  was  chained  to  guard  it.  He  was 
exceeding  fierce,  and  knew  nobody  but  his  master, 
Thebe,  and  the  slave  who  fed  him. 

The  time  pitched  upon  for  the  execution  of  the 
plot  being  arrived,  Thebe  shut  up  her  brothers  du- 
ring the  day-time,  in  an  apartment  near  the  tyrant's. 
When  he  entered  his  own  chamber  at  night,  as  he  was 
overcharged  with  meat  and  wine,  he  fell  into  a  deep 
tleep  immediately.  Thebe  went  out  presently  after, 
and  ordered  the  slave  to  take  away  the  dog,  that  he 
might  not  disturb  her  husband's  repose;  and  lest  the 
ladder  should  make  a  noise  when  her  brothers  came 
up  by  it,  she  covered  the  steps  of  it  with  wool.  All 
things  being  thus  prepared,  she  made  her  brothers 
ascend  softly,  armed  with  daggers:  when  they  came 
to  the  door,  they  were  seized  with  terror,  and  would 
£0  no  farther.  Theb«,  quite  out  of  her  wit?,  threa- 
tened to  awake  the  tyrant  if  they  did  not  proceed 
immediately,  and  to  discover  the  plot  to  him.  Shame 
and  fear  re-animated  them:  she  made  them  enter, 
led  them  to  the  bed,  and  held  the  lamp  herself,  whilst 
they  killed  him  with  repeated  wounds.  The  news 
of  his  death  was  immediately  ipread  through  the  city. 
Hi*  dead  body  was  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  outrages, 
trampled  under  foot  by  the  people,  and  given  for  a 


prey  to  the  dogs  and  vultures:  a  just  reward  for  hl» 
violent  oppressions  and  detestable  cruelties. 

SECTION  VII.— EPAMINONDAS  IS  CHOSEN  GENE- 
RAL OF  THE  THEBANS.  HIS  SECOND  ATTKM1T 
AGAINST  SPARTA.  HIS  CELEBRATED  VICTORY 
AT  MANTINEA.  HIS  DEATH  AND  EULOGY. 

THE  extraordinary  prosperity  of 
Thebes  was  no  small  subject  of  alarm  A.  M.  3641 
to  the  neighbouring  sta'tes.1  Every  Ant.  J.  C.  363 
thing  was  at  that  time  in  motion  in 
Greece.  A  new  war  had  sprung  up  between  the  Ar 
cadians  and  the  Eleans,  which  had  occasioned  another 
between  the  Arcadians  themselves.  The  people  of 
Tegsea  had  called  in  the  Thebans  to  thtir  aid,  and 
those  of  Mnnt'mea,  the  Spartans  and  Athenians. 
There  were  besides  several  other  allies  on  each  side. 
The  former  gave  Epaminondas  the  command  of  their 
troops,  who  immediately  entered  Arcadia,  and  en- 
camped at  Tegnea,  with  design  to  attack  the  Manti- 
neans,  who  had  quitted  their  alliance  with  Thebes  to 
attach  themselves  to  Sparta. 

Heing  informed  that  Agesilaus  had  begun  his  march 
with  his  army,  and  was  advancing  towards  Mantinea, 
he  formed  an  enterprise,  which,  he  believed,  would 
immortalize  his  name,  and  entirely  reduce  the  power 
of  the  enemy.  He  left  Tegaea  in  the  night  with  his 
army,  unknown  to  the  Mantineans,  and  marched  di- 
rectly to  Sparta  by  a  different  route  from  that  of 
Agesilaus.  He  would  undoubtedly  have  taken  the 
city  by  surprise,  as  it  had  neither  Walls,  defence,  nor 
troops:  but  happily  for  Sparta,  a  Cretan  having  made 
nil  possible  haste  to  apprize  Agesilaus  of  his  design, 
he  immediately  despatched  one  of  his  horse  to  advise 
the  city  of  the  danger  that  threatened  it,  and  ar- 
rived there  soon  after  in  person. 

He  had  scarce  entered  the  town,  when  the  The- 
bans were  seen  passing  the  Eurotas,  and  coming  on 
against  the  city.  Epaminondas,  who  perceived  that 
his  design  was  discovered,  thought  it  incumbent  on 
him  not  to  retire  without  some  attempt.  He  there- 
fore made  his  troops  advance,*  and  making  use  of 
valour  instead  of  stratagem,  he  attacked  the  city  in 
several  quarters,  penetrated  as  far  as  the  public 
square,  and  seized  that  part  of  Sparta  which  lay  upon 
the  side  of  the  river.  Agesilaus  made  head  every 
where,  and  defended  himself  with  much  more  valour 
than  could  be  expected  from  hisyears.  He  saw  well, 
that  it  was  not  now^  lime,  as  before,  to  spare  him-, 
self,  and  to  act  only  on  the  defensive;  but  that  he  had 
need  of  all  his  courage  and  daring,  and  to  fight  with 
all  the  vigour  of  despair;  means  which  he  had  never 
yet  used,  nor  placed  his  confidence  in  before,  but 
which  he  employed  with  great  success  in  the  present 
dangerous  emergency.  For  by  this  happy  despair 
and  prudent  audacity,  he  in  a  manner  snatched  the 
city  out  of  the  hands  of  Epaminondas.  His  son  Ar- 
chidamus,  at  the  head  of  the  Spartan  youth,  behaved 
with  incredible  valour  wherever  the  danger  was 
greatest,  and  with  his  small  troop  stopped  the  enemy, 
and  made  great  head  against  them  on  nil  sides. 

A  young  Spartan,  named  Isadas,  distinguished  him- 
self particularly  in  this  action.  He  was  very  hand- 
some, perfectly  well-shaped,  of  an  advantageous  sta- 
ture, and  in  the  flower  of  his  youth.  He  had  neither 
armour  nor  clothes,  his  body  shone  with  oil,  and  he 
held  a  spear  in  one  hand,  and  a  sword  in  the  other. 

In  this  condition  he  rushed  with  impetuosity  from 
his  house,  and  breaking  through  the  throng  of  the 
Spartans  that  were  fighting,  he  threw  himself  upon 
the  enemy,  gave  mortal  wounds  at  every  Mow  and 
laid  all  at  his  feet  who  opposed  him,  without  receiving 
any  hurt  himself,  whether  it  were  that  the  enemy 
were  dismayed  at  so  astonishing  a  sight,  or  whether, 
says  Plutarch,  the  gods  took  pleasure  in  preserving 
him  upon  account  of  his  extraordinary  valour.  It  ii 
said,  the  Ephori  decreed  him  a  crown  after  the  battle 
in  honour  of  his  exploits,  but  afterwards  fined  him  a 
1000  drachmas8  for  having  exposed  himself  to  so  great 
a  dangrr  without  arm.*. 


Xenoph.  I.  vii.  p.  042— G44.  Pliu.iu  Ageiil.  p.615.  Diod 
p.  39 1,  302. 
»  Polyb.  I.  ht.  p.  547.  »   4bout  25t 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


483 


Epaminond  is,  having  failed  in  his  aim,  and  fore- 
seeing that  tlie  Arcadians  would  certainly  hasten  to 
the  relief  of  Sparta,  and 'not  being  willing  to  have 
them  with  all  the  Lacedemonian  forces  upon  his 
hands  at  the  saute  time,  returned  with  expedition  to 
Tegaea.  The  Lacedaemonians  and  Athenians,  with 
their  allies,  followed  him  close  in  the  rear. 

This  general,' considering  his  command  was  upon 
the  point  of  expiring,  and  that  if  he  did  not  fight,  hit 
reputation  might  sutler  extremely,  and  that  immedi- 
ately al'tc-r  his~retreat,  the  enemy  would  fall  upon  the 
Theban  allies,  and  entirely  ruin  them,  gave  orders  to 
his  troops  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness  for  battle. 

The  Greeks  had  never  fought  amongst  themselves 
with  more  numerous  armies.  That  of  the  Lacedae- 
monian* consisted  of  more  than  20,000  foot  and  2000 
horse;  the  Theban  army  of  30,000  foot  and  near 3000 
horse.  Upon  the  right  wing  of  ihe  former,  the  Man- 
lineans,  Arcadians,  and  Lacedaemonians,  were  posted 
in  one  line;  the  Eleans  and  Achatans,  who  were  the 
weakest  of  their  troops, had  the  centre ;  and  the  Athe- 
nians alone  composed  the  left  wing.  In  the  other 
army,  the  Thebans  and  Arcadians  were  on  the  left, 
the  Argivcs  on  the  right,  and  the  other  allies  in  the 
centre.  The  cavalry  on  each  fide  were  disposed  in 
the  wings. 

The  Theban  general  marched  in  the  same  order  of 
battle  in  which  he  intended  to  fight,  that  he  might 
not  be  obliged,  when  he  came  up  with  the  enemy,  to 
lose,  in  the  disposition  of  his  army,  a  time  which  can- 
not be  too  much  saved  in  great  enterprises. 

He  did  not  march  directly,  and  with  his  front  to 
the  enemy,  but  in  a  column  along  the  hills  with  his 
left  wins:  foremost,  to  make  them  imagine  that  he  did 
not  intend  to  fight  that  day.  Whin  he  was  over 
•gain»t  them  at  a  quarter  ot  a  league's  distance,  he 
made  his  troo|M  halt  and  lay  down  their  arms,  as  if 
he  designed  to  encamp  there.  The  enemy  in  fact 
were  deceived  by  that  stand,  and  reckoning  no  longer 
upon  a  battle,  they  quilled  their  arms,  dispersed 
themselves  about  the  camp,  and  suffered  that  ardour 
to  extinguish  which  the  near  approach  of  a  battle  is 
wont  to  kindle  in  the  hearts  of  the  soldiers. 

Epaminondas,  however,  bv  suddenly  wheeling  his 
troops  to  the  right,  having  changed  his  column  into  a 
line,  and  having  drawn  out  the  choice  troops  whom 
be  had  expres?lv  posted  in  front  upon  hi*  march,  he 
made  them  double  their  files  upon  the  front  of  his  left 
wing  to  add  to  its  strength,  and  to  put  it  into  a  condi- 
tion to  attack  in  a  point  the  Lacedaemonian  phalanx, 
which,  by  the  movement  he  had  made,  faced  itdirectly. 
He  ordered  the  centre  and  right  wing  of  his  army  to 
move  very  slow,  anc!  to  halt  before  they  came  up  with 
the  enemy,  that  he  might  not  hazard  the  event  of  the 
battle  upon  troops  on  whom  he  could  not  relv. 

He  exacted  to  decide  the  victory  by  that  body  of 
chosen  troops  which  he  commanded  in  person,  and 
which  he  had  formed  in  a  column  to  attack  the  enemy 
in  a  point  like  a  gallev.  says  Xenophon.  He  assured 
himtelf  that  if  he  could  penetrate  the  Lacedaemonian 
phalanx,  in  which  the  enemy's  principal  force  consist- 
ed, he  should  not  find  it  difficult  to  rout  the  rest  of 
their  army,  by  charging  upon  the  right  and  left  with 
Dis  victorious  troops. 

But  that  he  might  prevent  the  Athenians  in  the  left 
wing  from  coming:  to  the  support  of  their  right  against 
nis  intended  attack,  he  made  a  detachment  of  his  horse 
and  foot  advance  out  of  the  line,  and  posted  them  up- 
on the  rising  ground  in  readiness  to  flank  the  Athe- 
nian!!, as  welTto  cover  his  right,  as  to  alarm  them; 
and  gave  them  reason  to  apprehend  being  taken  in 
flank  and  rear  themselves,  if  they  advanced  to  sustain 
their  right. 

After  having  disposed  his  who  e  army  in  this  man- 
ner, he  moved  on  to  charge  the  enemy  with  the  whole 
weight  of  his  column.  They  were  strangely  surprised 
when  they  saw  F.paminondas  advance  towards  them 
in  this  order,  ind  resumed  their  arms,  bridled  their 
horses,  and  made  all  the  haste  they  could  to  the  ranks. 

Whilst  Kpaminondas  was  marching;  against  the  en 
cmv,  the  cavalry  that  covered  his  flank  on  the  left, 


Xenoph.  U  vii.  p.  645—647 


the  best  at  that  time  in  Greece,  entirely  composed  of 
Thebans  and  Thessalians,  had  orders  to  attack  thr 
enemy's  horse.  The  The.:«n  general,  whom  nothing 
escaped,  had  judiciously  planted  bowimn,  -lin_;i  ri- 
and  lancers  in  the  intervals  of  his  horse,  in  on.<  r  to 
begin  the  disorder  of  the  enemy's  cavalry,  bv  a  previ- 
ous discharge  of  a  shower  of  arrows,  stone?,  and  jave- 
lins upon  them.  The  other  army  had  neglected  to 
take  the  sanie  precautions,  and  had  committed  ano- 
ther fault  not  less  considerable,  in  giving  as  much 
depth  to  the  squadrons  as  if  they  had  been  a  phalanx. 
By  this  means  their  hone  were  incapable  of  support- 
ing long  the  charge  of  the  Thebans.  After  having 
maiie  several  intti'ectual  attacks  with  great  loss,  they 
were  obliged  to  retire  behind  their  inlantry. 

In  the  mean  time  Epaniinondas.  with  his  body  of 
foot,  had  attacked  the  LactduMiinnimi  phalanx.  "The 
troops  came  to  the  charge  on  both  sides  with  incredi- 
ble ardour;  both  the  Thebans  and  Lacedaemonian* 
being  resolved  to  perish  rather  than  j  ield  the  glorr 
of  arms  to  their  rivals.  They  began  by  fighting  with 
the  spear;  and  those  first  arms  being  soon  broken  in 
the  fury  of  the  combat,  they  charged  each  other -H  ord 
in  hand.  The  resistance  was  equally  ob^inate,  and 
the  slaughter  very  great  on  both  sides.  The  troopt 
despising  danger,  and  desiring  only  to  distinguish 
themselves  by  the  greatness  of  their  action?,  chose  ra- 
ther to  die  in  their  ranks,  than  to  lose  a  step  of  their 
ground. 


The 


nued  a  g 


e  furious  f'aughter  on  both  sides  having  co 
a  great  while  without  the  victory's  inclining 


ntl- 
g  to 


either,  Epaminondas,  to  force  it  to  declare  for  him, 
thought  it  his  duty  to  make  an  extraordinary  effort  in 
person,  without  regard  to  the  danger  of  his  own  life. 
He  formed  therefore  a  troop  of  the  bravest  and  most 
determinate  about  him,  and  putting  himself  at  the 
head  of  them,  made  a  vigorous  charge  upon  the  ene- 
my, where  the  battle  was  most  warm,  and  wounded 
the 
I 

wounded  or  killed  all  that  stood  in  their  way,  broke 
and  penetrated  the  phalanx.  The  Lacedaemonians, 
dismayed  by  the  presence  of  Epaminondas,  and  over- 
powered by  the  weight  of  that  intrepid  band,  were 
compelled  to  give  ground.  The  main  body  of  the 


he  general  of  the  Lacedaemonians  with  the  first  jive- 
in    he    threw.     His    troop  by    his  example,  having 


Theban  troops,  animated  by  their  general's  example 
drove  back  the  enemy  upon   his  right 


and  succe< 


and  left,  and  made  a  great  slaughter  of  them.  But 
some  troops  of  the  Spartans,  perceiving  that  Epami- 
nondas abandoned  himself  too  much  to  his  ardour, 
suddenly  rallied,  and  returning  to  the  fight,  charged 
him  with  a  shower  of  javelins.  Whilst  he  kept  off 
part  of  those  darts,  shunned  some  of  them,  warded 
off  others,  and  was  fighting  with  the  most  heroic 
valour,  to  assure  the  victory  to  his  army,  a  Spartan, 
named  Callicrates,  gave  him  a  mortal  wound  with  a 
javelin  in  the  breast  through  his  cuirass.  The  wood 
of  the  javelin  being  broken  off,  and  the  iron  head 
continuing  in  the  wound,  the  torment  was  insup- 
portable, and  he  fell  immediately.  The  battle  began 
around  him  with  new  fury;  the  one  side  using  their 
utmost  endeavours  to  take  him  alive,  and  the  other 
to  save  him.  The  Thebans  gained  their  point  at  last, 
and  carried  him  off,  after  having  nut  the  enemy  to 
flight.  They  did  not  pursue  them  far:  and  returning 
immediately",  contented  themselves  with  remaining 
masters  of  the  field  and  of  the  dead,  without  making 
any  advantage  of  their  victor}-,  or  undertaking  any- 
thing farther,  as  if  they  stayed  for  the  orders  of  their 
general. 

The  cavalry,  dismayed  l>y  the  accident  of  F.pami- 
nondas,  whom  they  believed  to  be  dead,  and  seeming 
rather  vanquished  than  victorious,  neglected  to  pur- 
sue their  success  in  the  same  manner,  and  returned  to 
their  former  post. 

Whil-t  thi«  was  passing  on  the  loft  wing  of  the  Th«- 
.bans,  the  Athenian  horse  attacked  their  cavalry  on 
the  right.  But  as  the  latter,  besides  the  nprriontj 
of  number,  had  the  advantage  of  being  seconded  by 
the  light  infantry  posted  'in  their  intenrnU,  th«y 
charged  the  Athenians  rudely,  and  having  gulled  them 
extremely  with  their  darts,  broke,  and  obliged  them 
to  fly.  After  having  dispersed  and  repulsed  them  '• 


481 

this  manner  instead  of  pursuing  them,  they  thought 
proper  to  turn  their  arms  against  the  Athenian  foot, 
which  they  took  in  flank,  put  into  border,  and  push- 
ed with  £reat  vigour.  Just  as  thev  were  about  to 
take  to  flight,  the  general  of  the  Elean  cavalry,  who 
commanded  a  body  of  reserve,  seeing  the  danger  of 
that  phalnnx,  came  upon  the  spur  to  it?  relief,  charged 
the  Thcban  horse,  who  expected  nothing  less,  forced 
them  to  retreat,  and  regained  from  them  their  ad- 
Tantage.  At  the  same  time,  the  Athenian  cavalry, 
which  had  been  routed  at  lirst,  finding  they  were  n;>t 
pursued,  rallied;  and  instead  of  going  to  the  as- 
iistance  of  their  foot  which  was  rough!)  handled, 
thev  attacked  the  detachment  posted  by  the  Thebans 
upon  the  heights  without  the  line,  and  put  it  to  the 
•MM. 

Alter  these  different  movements,  and  this  alterna- 
tion of  losses  and  advantages,  the  troops  upon  both 
sides  stood  still  and  rested  upon  their  arms;  and  the 
trumpets  of  the  two  armies,  as  if  by  consent,  sounded 
the  retreat  at  the  same  time.  Each  party  pretended 
to  the  victory,  and  erected  a  trophy:  the  Thebans, 
because  they  had  defeated  the  right  wing,  and  re- 
mained masters  of  the  field  of  battle;  the  Athenians 
because  they  had  cut  the  detachment  in  pieces.  And 
from  this  point  of  honour,  both  sides  refused  at  first 
to  ask  leave  to  bury  their  dead,  which  with  the  an- 
cients, was  confessing  their  defeat.  The  Lacedaemo- 
nians, however,  first  sent  a  herald  to  demand  the  per- 
mission; after  which,  the  rest  had  no  thoughts  but 
of  paying  the  last  duties  to  the  slain  on  their  respec- 
tive sides. 

Such  was  the  event  of  the  famous  battle  of  Manti- 
nea.  Xenophon,  in  his  relation  of  it,  which  concludes 
his  history,  recommends  to  the  reader's  attention  the 
disposition  of  the  Theban  troops,  and  the  order  of 
battle,  which  he  describes  as  a  man  of  knowledge  and 
experience  in  the  art  of  war.  And  the  Chevalier  Fo- 
1  mi,  who  justly  looks  upon  Epaminondas  as  one  of 
the  greatest  generals  Greece  ever  produced,  in  his 
description  of  the  same  battle,  ventures  to  call  it  the 
masterpiece  of  that  great  captain. 

Epaminondas  had  been  carried  into  the  camp.  The 
lurgeons,  after  having  examined  the  wound,  declared 
that  he  would  expire  as  soon  as  the  head  of  the  dart 
was  drawn  out  of  it.  These  words  gave  all  that  were 
present  the  utmost  sorrow  and  affliction :  they  were 
inconsolable  on  seeing  so  great  A  man  about  to  die, 
and  to  die  without  issue.  For  him.  the  only  concern 
oe  expressed  was  about  his  arms,  and  the  success  of 
the  battle.  AVhtn  they  showed  him  his  shield,  and 
assured  him  that  the  Thebans  had  gained  the  victory; 
turning  towards  his  friends  with  a  calm  and  serene 
ai>-:  "  Do  not  regard,"  said  he.  "this  day  as  the  end 
of  my  life,  but  as  the  beginning  of  my  happiness,  and 
the  completion  of  my  glory.  I  leave  Thebes  trium- 
phant, proud  Sparta  humbled,  and  Greece  delivered 
Iron*  the  yoke  of  servitude.  For  the  rest,  I  do  not 
reckon  that  I  die  without  issue;  Leuctra  and  Manti- 
nea  are  two  illustrious  daughters,  that  will  not  fail  to 
keep  my  namr  alive,  and  to  transmit  it  to  posterity." 
Having  spoken  to  this  effect,  he  drew  the  head  of  the 
javelin  out  of  his  wound  and  expired. 

It  may  be  truly  said  that  the  Theban  power  expired 
with  this  great  man;  whom  Cicero  seems  to  rank 
above  nil  the  illustrious  men  Greece  ever  produced.1 
Justin  is  of  the  same  opinion,*  when  he  says,  That  as 
a  dart  is  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  wound  when  the 
point  of  it  u  blunted,  so  Thebes,  after  having  lost  its 
general,  was  no  longer  formidable  to  it*  enemies,  and 
Its  power  seemed  to  have  lost  its  edge,  and  to  be  an- 
nihilated by  the  death  of  Epaminondas.  Before  him, 
that  city  was  not  distinguished  by  any  memorable 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


>  Epaminondai  princep*,  mco  judicio,  Grteci*.  Aemd. 
Qufit.  I.  i.  n.  4. 

»  \an>  nicuti  telo,  li  primam  aciem  prajfre»eri».  reliquo 
f.-rro  vi.r.  nrvenrti  snslulpri» ;  nic  illo,  Telut  murrune  teli, 
klilaio  duce  Thfliiiiinrum.  rei  qu<X]oe  publics  virea  hebetate 
lunt  :  ul  lion  tarn  ilium  amisisie.  quam  cum  illo  onrnr*  inte- 
riiv  viijoreniur.  Nam  neque  hiinc  ante  ducem  ullum  m«- 
morabile  bellum  grttern.  nee  poclea  virtutibus,  red  rlidubi*. 
intern' *  t'ui-re  :  ut  manifeslum  sit,  patrie  gloriam  et  nalam 
•t  eitmctam  cum  en  fuiite.  Justin.  I.  vi.  c.  8. 


action:  and  after  him,  it  sunk  into  its  or/ginal  ob 
scurity;  so  that  it  -.aw  irs  glory  take  birth  and  expir* 
with  this  great  man. 

It  h;is  been  doubted  whether  he  was  a  moretxcel- 
le;it  captain  or  good  man.8  He  sought  not  power  for 
himself,  but  for  his  Jountry;  and  carried  his  disinte- 
restedness to  such  a  pitch,  that  at  l-.isrieath  he  did  not 
leave  sufficient  wealth  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his 
funeral.  Truly  a  philosopher,  and  poor  by  inclina- 
tion he  despised  riches,  without  affecting  anv  reputa- 
tion from  tt-at  contempt;  and  if  Justin  may  be  believed 
he  coveted  glory  as  little  as  he  did  money.  It  was 
always  against  his  will  that  commands  were  conferred 
upon  him;  and  he  behaved  himself  in  them  in  suth 
a  manner,  as  did  more  honour  to  the  dignities,  than 
the  dignities  to  him. 

Though  poor  himself,  and  without  any  estate,  h» 
very  poverty,  by  drawing  upon  him  the  esteem  and 
confidence  of  the  rich,  gave  him  the  opportunity  of 
doing  good  to  others.  One  of  his  friends  being  in 
gr«-at  necessity,  Epaminondas  sent  him  to  a  very  rich 
citizen,  with  orders  to  a*k  him  for  1000  crowns  in  his 
name.*  That  rich  man  coming  to  his  house,  to  know 
his  motives  for  directing  his  friend  to  him  up  n  su.'h 
an  errand;  "  \Vhy,"5  replied  Ejiaminondas,  "  it  is  be- 
cause this  honest  man  is  in  want,  and  you  are  rich."* 

He  h»d  imbibed  those  generous  and  noble  senti- 
ments from  the  study  of  polite  learning  and  philoso- 
phy,7 which  he  had  made  his  usual  employment  and 
sole  delight  from  his  earliest  infancy;  so  that  it  was 
surprising,  and  a  question  frequently  asked  how,  and 
at  what  time,  it  was  possible  for  a  man,  always  busy 
amongst  books,  to  attain,  or  rather  seize,  the  know- 
ledge of  the  art  military  in  so  great  a  degree  of  per- 
fection. Fond  of  leisure,  which  he  devoted  to  the 
study  of  philosophy,  his  darling  passion,  he  shunned 
public  employments,  and  intrigued  only  to  exclude 
himself  from  them.  His  moderation  concealed  him 
so  well,  that  he  lived  obscure  and  almost  unknown. 
His  merit,  however,  discovered  him.  lie  was  taken 
from  his  solitude  by  force,  to  be  placed  at  the  head 
of  armies;  and  he  demonstrated  that  philosophy, 
though  generally  despised  by  those  who  aspire  at  the 
glory  of  arms,  is  wonderfully  well  calculated  to  form 
heroes.  For  besides  its  being  the  greatest  step  to- 
wards conquering  the  enemy,  to  know  how  to  conquer 
one's  self,  in  this  school  anciently  were  taught  the 
great  maxims  of  true  policy,8  the  rules  of  every  kin! 
of  duty,  the  motives  for  a  true  discharge  of  them,  wha 
we  owe  to  our  country,  the  right  use  of  authority 
wherein  true  courage  consists,  in  a  word,  the  qualities 
that  form  the  good  citizen,  statesman,  and  great  cap- 
tain. 

He  possessed  all  the  ornaments  of  the  mind :  he  had 
the  talent  of  speaking  in  perfection,  and  was  well 
versed  in  the  mo»t  sublime  sciences.  But  a  modest 
reserve  threw  a  veil  over  all  those  excellent  qualities, 
which  still  augmented  their  value,  and  he  knew  not 
what  it  was  to  be  ostentatious  of  them.  Spintharns, 
in  giving  his  character,  said,  "  That  he  never  had  met 
a  man,  who  knew  more,  and  spoke  less.'"8 

It  may  be  said  therefore  in  praise  of  Kptminondas, 
that  he  "falsified  the  proverb,  which  treated  the  Boeo- 
tians as  boorish  and  stupid.  This  was  the  notion  com- 
monly entertained  of  them;10  and  it  was  imputed  to 


*  Fuit  incertum,  vir  melior  an  dux  e»et.    Nam  et  irnpo- 
rium   non  sibi  semper  <etl  patric  quexivit ;  ct  pecunite  Hiled 
parcus  fuit.  ut  aumptus  faneri  defuerit.    Gloria;  qutvjue  non 
cupidior,  quam  peeunia; ;  quippe   rerusanti    omnia    imperil 
injenta  »unt,  honoresiiii"  iia  ?*s»it,  ornamentum  non  acci 
pere,  »ed  dari  ipii  dignitati  videretnr.     Justin. 

*  A  talent,  •  Plut.  de  pra*»pt.  reipub.  ger.  809. 

*  ''Or.  X..9-T4,-,  uVlr,  CUTOJ    a.',  7»*{    irrt'  TV    5.    »*.»• 

T»T{. 

»  Jam  lilerarum  Htudium.jam  philosophise  doetrina  tanti 
ut  mirnhile  videretur,  unde  turn  insignia  militia;  scienti 
liomini  inter  literal  nato.  Justin. 

*  The  works  of  Plato,  Xenophon,  end  Aristotle,  are  prouf 
of  this. 

»  Plut.  de  audit,  p.  30. 

>•  Inter  locornm  natural  quantum  intemt,  videmu*- 
Athenis  tenue  ca-him,  ex  quo  auctiore*  etiam  potantur  At- 
tiri  ;  cranum  Thcbii,  itaqne  pingue*  Thnbani.  Ci€.  1* 
Ptto,  n.  7 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


485 


the  gross  air  of  the  country,  as  the  Athenian  delicacy 
of  taste  was  attributed  to  the  subtlety  of  the  air  they 
breathed.  Horace  says,  that  to  judge  of  Alexander 
from  his  bad  taste  for  poetry,  one  would  swear  him 
a  true  Boeotian. 

Boeotum  in  craaso  jurarei  ae're  natum. 

Kpist.  i.  1,  2. 

In  thick  B<Eotian  air  you'd  swear  him  born. 
When  Alcibiades  was  reproached  with  having  little 
inclination  to  music,  he  thought  fit  to  make  this  ex- 
cuse: "It  is  for  Thcbans  to  sing  as  they  do,'  who 
know  not  how  to  speak."  Pindar  and  Plutarch,  who 
had  very  little  of  the  soil  in  them,  and  who  are  proofs 
that  genius  is  of  all  nations,  do  themselves  condemn 
the  stupidity  of  their  countrymen.  Epaminnndas  did 
honour  to  his  country,  not  only  by  the  greatness  of 
his  military  exploits,  but  by  that  sort  of  merit  which 
results  fioiii  elevation  of  genius  and  the  study  of  the 
scit:>c«  !•. 

1  shall  conclude  this  portrait  and  character  with  a 
circumstance  that  gives  place  to  nothing  in  all  his 
nther  excellencies,  and  which  may  even  be  preferred 
to  them,  as  it  indicates  a  good  heart,  and  a  tenderness 
knd  sensible  disposition;  qualities  very  rare  amongst 
ihegrtat,  but  infinitely  more  estimable  than  all  those 
splendid  attributes  which  the  generality  of  mankind 
commonly  i;iizi  at  with  admiration,  and  fancy  almost 
the  only  objects  worthy  of  either  being  imitated  or 
envied.  The  victory  at  Leuctra  had  drawn  the  eyes 
ami  admiration  of  all  the  neighbouring  states  upon 
Epaminondas,  and  caused  him  to  be  looked  upon  as 
the  supporter  and  restorer  of  Thebes,  as  the  triumph- 
ant conqueror  of  Sparta,  as  the  deliverer  of  all  Greece  • 
ina  word,  as  the  greatest  man,  and  the  most  excellent 
capuin.  that  ever  was  in  the  world.  In  the  midst  of 
this  universal  applause,  so  capable  of  intoxicating,  in 
a  manner,  the  general  of  an  army,  Epaminondas,  little 
•enable  to  so  affecting  and  so  deserved  a  glory,  "  My 
juv,"2  ?aid  he,  "arises  from  my  sense  of  that  which 
the  news  of  my  victory  will  give  my  father  and  my 
•other." 

Nothing  in  history  seems  to  me  so  valuable  as  »uch 
sentiments,  which  do  honour  to  human  nature,  and 
proved  from  a  heart  which  neither  false  glory  nor 
lalse  greatness  have  corrupted.  I  confess  it  is  with 
grief  1  see  these  noble  sentiments  daily  expire  amongst 
us,  especially  in  persons  whose  birth  and  rank  raise 
them  above  others,  who,  too  frequently,  are  neither 
good  fathers,  good  sons,  good  husbands,  nor  good 
friends;  and  who  would  think  it  derogatory  to  them 
to  express  for  a  father  or  mother  the  tender  regard, 
of  which  we  have  here  so  fine  an  example  from  a  Pagan. 
Until  K.paminondas's  time,  two  cities  had  exercised 
altenMtt  |y  a  kind  of  empire  over  all  Greece.  The 
justice  and  moderation  of  Sparta  had  at  first  acquired 
it  a  distinguished  pre-eminence,  which  the  pride  and 
haughtiness  of  its  generals,  and  especially  of  Pausa- 
nias,  soon  made  it  lose.  The  Athenians,  until  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war,  held  the  first  rank;  but  in  a  manner 
scarcely  discernible  in  any  other  respect,  than  in  their 
care  to  acquit  themselves  worthily,  and  in  giving  their 
in:eriorsjiist  reason  to  believe  themselves  their  equals. 
They  judged  at  that  time,  and  very  justly,  that  the 
true  method  of  commanding,  and  of  continuing  their 
power,  was  to  evince  their  superiority  only  by  their 
food  office*  and  the  benefits  they  conferred.  Those 
lines,  so  glorious  for  Athens,  were  of  about  forty-five 
,'ear*'  continuance,  anil  they  retained  a  part  of  that 
are-eminence,  during  the  twenty-seven  years  of  the 
Peloponnesian  war,  which  make  in  all  the  seventy- 
two,  or  seventv-three  years,  which  Demosthenes  as- 
signs to  the  duration  of  their  empire;*  but  for  thi* 
latter  space  of  time,  the  Greeks  disgusted  by  the 
haughtiness  of  Athens,  received  no  laws  from  that 
citv  without  reluctance.  Hence  the  Lacedaemonians 
became  again  the  arbiters  of  Greece,  end  continued 
no  from  tlie  time  Lysancier  made  himself  master  of 
Athene,  until  the  first  war  undertaken  by  the  Atheni- 
ans, after  their  it-establishment  by  Conon,  to  with- 
draw themselves  and  the  rest  of  the  Greeks  from  the 


i  They  were  fr»at  musician*. 

•  Flu'   iuCoriol   p  215          •  Deroott.  Philip,  iii.  p.  89. 


tyranny  of  Sparta,  which  was  now  grown  more  inso- 
lent than  ever.  At  length,  Thebes  disputed  the  su- 
premacy; and  by  the  exalted  merit  of  a  single  man, 
saw  itself  at  the 'head  of  all  Greece.  But  that  glori- 
ous condition  was  of  no  long  continuance,  and  the 
death  of  Kpaminondas,  as  we  have  already  observed, 
plunged  it  again  into  the  obscurity  in  which  he 
bund  it. 

Demosthenes  remarks,  in  the  passage  above  cited, 
lhat  the  pre-eminence  granted  voluntarily  either  to 
Sparta  or  Athens,  was  a  pre-eminence  of  honour,  not 
of  dominion,  and  that  the  intent  of  Greece  was  to 
preserve  a  kind  of  equality  and  independence  in  the 
other  cities.  Hence,  says  he,  when  the  governing 
city  attempted  to  ascribe  to  itself  what  did  not  belong 
to  it,  and  aimed  at  any  innovations  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  justice,  in  established  customs,  all  the  Greek* 
thought  themselves  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  arms, 
and  without  any  ground  of  personal  discontent,  to 
"•spouse  with  ardour  the  <«use  of  the  injured. 

I  shall  add  here  another  very  judicious  reflection 
from  Polybius.*  He  attributes  the  wise  conduct 
of  the  Athenians,  in  the  times  1  have  spoken  of,  to  the 
ability  of  their  generals,  who  were  then  at  the  head 
of  their  affairs;  and  he  makes  use  of  a  comparison, 
which  explains,  not  unhappily,  the  character  of  that 
people.  A  vessel,  without  a  master,  says  he,  is  ex- 
posed to  great  dangers,  when  every  one  insists  upon  it* 
being  steered  according  to  his  opinion,  and  will  not 
suffer  others  to  guide  him.  If  then  a  rude  storm  at- 
tacks it,  the  common  danger  conciliate*  and  unites 
them;  they  abandon  themselves  to  the  pilot's  skill, 
and  all  the  rowers  doing  their  duty,  the  ship  is  saved, 
and  in  a  state  of  security.  But  if,  when  the  tempest 
ceases,  and  the  weather  grows  calm  again,  the  discord 
of  the  mariners  revives;  if  they  will  nearken  no  Ion 
ger  to  the  pilot,  and  some  are  for  continuing  their 
voyage,  whilst  others  resolve  to  stop  in  the  midst  of 
the  course;  if  on  one  side  they  loose  their  sails,  and 
furl  them  on  the  other;  it  often  happens  that,  after 
having  escaped  the  most  violent  storms,  they  are 
shipwrecked  even  in  port.  This,  says  Polybius,  is  a 
natural  image  of  the  Athenian  republic.  As  long  a* 
it  suffered  itself  to  be  guided  by  the  wise  counsels  of 
an  Aristides,  a  Themistocles,  a  Pericles,  it  came  off 
victorious  from  the  great  dangers.  But  prosperity 
blinded  and  ruined  it;  following  no  longer  any  thing 
but  its  own  caprice,  and  being  become  too  insolent 
to  be  advised  or  governed,  it  plunged  itself  into  the 
greatest  misfortunes. 

SECTION  VIII.— DEATH  OF  EVAGORAS  KING  O» 
SALAMIS.  NICOCLES  HIS  SON  SUCCEEDS  HIM.  AD- 
MIRABLE CHARACTER  OK  THAT  PR1.NCE. 
THE  third  year  of  the  101st  Olym- 
piad,5 and  soon  after  the  Theban*  A.  M.  3630. 
had  destroyed  Plataeae  and  Thespiae,  Ant.  J.  C.  374. 
as  has  been  observed  before,  Evago- 
ras,  king  of  Salami*,  in  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  of  whom 
much  has  been  said  in  the  ninth  book  of  this  volume, 
wa*  assassinated  by  one  of  his  eunuchs.  His  «on  Ni- 
rocles  succeeded  Fiim.  He  had  a  fine  modei  before 
him  in  the  person  of  his  father;  and  he  seemed  to 
consider  it  as  his  duty  to  make  it  his  study  »nd  to 
tread  in  his  steps.6  When  he  took  possession  of  the 
throne,  he  found  the  public  treasury  entirely  exhaust- 
ed hv  the  great  expenses  which  his  father  had  been 
obliged  fo  incur  in  the  lone  war  which  he  had  to 
maintain  with  the  king  of  Persia.  He  knew  that  the 
generality  of  Prince*,  upon  like  occasions,  think  every 
means  just  for  the  re-establishment  of  their  atTnirs; 
but  for  his  part,  he  acted  upon  different  principle*. 
In  his  reign  there  was  no  talk  of  banishment,  taxe*, 
and  confiscation  of  estates.  The  public  felicity  was 
his  sole  object,  and  juMice  his  favourite  virtue.  He 
discharged  the  debts  of  the  state  gradually  ,  not  by 
cni'hinsr  the  people  with  excessive  imposts,  but  by 
retrenching  all  unnecessary  expenses,  and  by  using  a 
wise  economy  in  the  administration  of  his  revtmn-1. 
"  I  am  sure,'*  said  he.  "  that  no  citizen  can  complain 


4  Polyb.  1.  vii.  p.  48P 

•  Icucrat.  in  Nicoc.  p.  64. 

2  9.2 


i  Diod.  1.  XT.  p.  363. 


486 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


that  I  hare  uone  hin.  the  least  wrong:  and  I  have 
the  satisfaction  to  know  tliat  I  have  enriched  many 
with  an  unsparing  hand,"1  He  believed  this  kind 
ot'vauitv,  it"  it  be  a  vanity,  might  be  permitted  in  a 
prince,  and  that  it  was  glorious  lor  him  to  have  it  in 
bis  power  to  throw  out  such  a  defiance  to  his  subjects. 
He  piqued  himself  also  in  particular  upon  another 
virtue,*  which  is  the  more  worthy  of  admiration  in 
princes,  as  it  is  very  uncommon  among  them;  I  mean 
temperance.  It  is  most  amiable,  but  very  difficult, 
in  an  age  and  a  rank  of  life  to  which  every  thing 
seems  to  be  lawful,  and  wherein  pleasure,  armed 
with  all  her  arts  and  attractions,  is  continually  lying 
in  ambush  for  a  young  prince,  and  anticipating  his 
desires,  to  make  a  long  resistance  against  the  violence 
and  insinuation  of  her  assaults.  IX  icocles  gloried  in 
having  never  known  any  woman  besides  his  wile 
during  his  reign,  and  was  amazed  that  all  other 
contracts  should  be  treated  with  due  regard  in  civil 
society,  whilst  that  of  maruage,  the  most  sacred  and 
inviolable  of  obligations,  wa*  broken  through  with 
impunity:  and  that  men  should  not  blush  to  commit 
an  inrii.it lily  in  respect  to  their  wives,  of  which, 
should  their  wives  be  guilty,  it  would  throw  them 
11  to  the  utmost  anguish  and  despair. 

What  I  have  said  of  ihe  justice  and  temperance 
of  Nicocles,  Isocrates  puts  into  that  prince's  own 
mouth;  and  it  is  not  probable  that  he  would  hare 
made  him  speak  in  such  a  manner,  if  his  conduct  had 
not  ajfrt-ed  with  such  sentiments.  It  is  in  a  discourse, 
supposed  to  be  addressed  by  that  king  to  his  people, 
vi  herein  he  describes  to  tht.m  the  duties  of  subjects 
to  their  princes:  love,  respect,  obedience,  fidelity, 
and  unbounded  devotion  to  their  service;  and  to 
engage  them  more  effectually  to  the  discharge  ot 
those  duties,  he  does  not  disdain  to  give  them  an 
a.  count  of  his  own  conduct  and  sentiments. 

In  anotherdiscourse,3  which  precedes  this,  Isocrates 
lays  before  Aicocles  all  the  duties  ot*  the  sovereignty, 
and  makes  excellent  reflections  upon  that  subject,  of 
which  I  can  repeat  here  only  a  very  small  part.  He 
begins  by  telling  him  that  the  virtue  of  private  per- 
sons is  much  better  supported  than  his  own,  by  the 
mediocrity  of  their  condition,  by  the  employment 
and  cares  inseparable  from  it,  by  the  misfortunes  to 
which  they  are  frequently  exposed,  by  their  distance 
from  pleasures  and  luxury,  and  particularly  by  the 
liberty  which  their  friends  and  relations  have  of 
giving  them  advice;  whereas,  the  generality  of 
princes  have  none  of  these  advantages.  He  adds 
that  a  king,  who  would  make  himself  capable  of 
governing  well,  ought  to  avoid  an  idle  and  inactive 
life,  should  set  apart  a  fixed  time  for  business  anc 
the  public  affairs,  should  form  his  council  of  the  most 
able  and  experienced  persons  in  his  kirgdom,  shouli 
endeavour  to  make  himself  as  much  superior  to 
others  by  his  merit  and  wisdom  ait  he  is  by  his 
dignity,  and  especially  to  acquire  the  love  of  his 
subjects,  and  for  that  purpose  love  them  sincerely 
and  look  upon  himself  as  their  common  father 
••  Persist,"  said  he,  "  in  the  religion  you  have  receivec 
from  your  forefathers,  but  be  assured  that  the  mos 
grateful  adoration  and  sacrifice  that  you  can  offer  to 
the  Divinity,  is  that  of  the  heart,  in  rendering  your- 
self good  and  just.  Show,  upon  all  occasions,  so 
high  a  regard  for  truth,  that  a  single  word  from  you 
may  be  more  confided  in  than  the  oath  of  others 
Be  a  warrior,  by  your  ability  in  military  affairs,  anc 
by  such  a  warlike  provision  as  mny  intimidate  you 
enemies;  but  let  your  inclinations  be  pacific,  and  be 
rigidly  exact  in  never  pretending  to,  or  underlakini. 
any  thing  unjustly.  The  only  certain  proof  that  you 
have  reigned  well,  will  be  the  power  of  bearing  thi 
testimony  to  yourself ;  that  your  people  are  become 
both  more  happy  and  more  wise  under  your  govern 
ment." 

What  seems  to  me  most   remarkable  in  this  dis 
course,  is,  that  the  advice  which  Isocrates  g'ves  the 
king  is  neither  attended  with  praises,  nor  with  thos 
studied    reservations    and    artificial     turns,    withou 
which  fearfu    and  modest  truth  dares  not  venture  tc 


>  laoerat.  p.  «>5,  (W. 
'  Isurrtt.  id  \icoo. 


•  Imcrat.  p. 


jproach    the   throne.     This  is  mos!  woithy  of   «p» 
ause,  and  it  is  still  more  to  the  credit  of  the  prince 
nan  the  writer.     jSicocles,  far  from  being  offended 
at  these  counsels,  received    them  with  joy  :  and   to 
express  his  gratitude  to  Isocrates,  made  him  a  present 
of  twenty  talents,  that  is  to  say,  20,000  crowns.* 
SECTION    IX. — ARTAXKRXES    siNE.MON    UNDER- 
TAKES THE  REDUCTION   I'K  EGYPT.      IPHICRATES 
THE  ATHENIAN   IS  APPOINTED  GENERAL  UF  THK 
ATHENIAN  TROOPS.      THE    ENTERPRISE    .MISCAR- 
RIES   BY     THE    ILL-CONDUCT    OF    PHARNABA2U8 
THE  PERSIAN  GENERAL. 

ARTAXERXES,5  after  having  given 
lis  people  an  interval   of  relaxation        A.  M.  3627 
or   several    years,    had    formed    the    Ant.  JC.  377. 
lesign  of  reducing  Egypt,  which  had 
shaken  off  the  Persian  yoke  long  before,  and  made 
jjrtat  preparations  for  war  for  that  purpose.    Actions, 
who  then  reigned  in  Egypt,  and  had  given  Evagorai 
Liowtrful    aid    against    the    Persians,    foreseeing   the 
storm,  raised  abundance  of  troops  of  his  own  subjects, 
and   took  into  his  pay   a  great  body  of  Greeks  and 
other    auxiliary    soldiers,    of    whom    Chabrias   the 
Athenian  had  the  command.6     He  had  accepted  that 
office  of  himself,  and  without  the  authority   of  the 
republic. 

Pharnabazus,  having  been  charged  with  this  war 
sent  to  Athens  to  complain  that  Chabrias  had  engaged 
himself  to  serve  against  his  master,  and  threatened  the 
republic  with  the  king's  resentment,  if  he  was  not 
immediately  recalled.  He  demanded  at  the  same 
time  Iphicrates,  another  Athenian,  who  wa»  looked 
upon  as  one  of  the  most  excellent  captains  of  his 
time,  to  give  him  the  command  of  the  body  of  Greek 
troop  in  the  service  of  his  master.  The  Athenians, 
who  had  a  great  interest  in  the  continuance  of  the 
king's  friendship,  recalled  Chabrias,  and  ordered 
him,  upon  pain  of  death,  to  repair  to  Athens  by  a 
certain  day.  Iphicrates  was  ?ent  to  the  Persian  aripj. 
The  preparations  of  the  Persians  went  on  so  slow- 
ly, that  two  whole  years  elapsed  before  they  entered 
upon  action.  Achoris,T  king  »  Egypt,  died  in  thai 
time,  and  was  succeeded  by  Psammuthis,  who  reign- 
ed but  a  vear.  IVepheritus  was  the  next,  and  four 
months  after  Nectanebis,  who  reigned  ten  or  twelve 
years. 

Artaxerxes,8  to  draw  some  troops 
out    of    Greece,    sent    ambassadors        A.  M.  3630. 
thither,   to    declare   to    the   several    Ant.  J.  C.  374. 
states,    that    the    king's    intent    was, 
they  should  all  live  in   peace  with  each  other,  con 
formably  to  the  treaty  of  Antalridas,  that  all  garri- 
sons should  be  withdrawn,  and  all  the  cities  suffered 
to  enjoy  their   liberty  under  their    respective  laws. 
All  Greece  received  his  declaration  with  pleasure, 
except  the  Thebans,  who  refused  to  conform  to  it. 

Ai  length,*  every  thing  being  in  readiness  for  the 
invasion  of  Egypt,  a  camp  was  formed  at  Aco,  since 
called  Ptolemais,  in  Palestine,  the  place  appointed 
for  the  general  rendezvous.  In  a  review  there,  the 
army  was  found  to  consist  of  200,000  Persians,  under 
the  command  of  Pharnabazus  and  20,000  Greeks  un- 
der Iphicrates.  The  naval  forces  were  in  proportion 
to  those  of  the  land  ;  their  fleet  consisted  of  300  gal- 
leys, besides  200  vessels  of  thirty  oars,  and  a  prodi- 
gious number  of  bark*  to  transport  the  necessary  pro- 
visions for  the  fleet  and  army. 

The  army  and  fleet  began  to  move  at  the  same 
time;  and  that  they  might  act  in  concert,  they  ?>  pa- 
rated  from  each  other  as  little  as  possible.  The  war 
was  to  open  with  the  siepe  of  Pe.iisinm:  hut  so  much 
time  had  been  given  the  Egyptians,  that  Nectanebis 
had  rendered  the  approach  to  it  impracticable,  both 
by  sea  and  land.  The  fleet,  therefore,  instead  of  ma- 
king a  descent,  as  had  been  projected,  sailed  for- 
wards, and  entered  the  mouth  of  the  .Nile  called  th« 
Mendesian.  The  Nile  at  that  time  emptied  itself 
into  the  sea  bv  seven  different  channel.',  of  which  only 
two  remain  at  this  rtav:10  and  at  e«ch  of  these  mouth 


«  Plut  in  vit.  Isor   p.  838.        •  Diod.  I   xv  p.  .T5>.  347. 

•  Cor.  Nep.  in  ('hah.  et  in  Iphir.        '  Euxeb.  in  C'liMio. 

•  I>,,,.i   I.  xv.  p  355.  i  Ibid.  p.  3i£,  250. 
<•  Damietta  ard  kusetta. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


there  was  a  fort  with  a  strong  garrison  to  defend  the 
entrance.  The  Mendesian  nut  being  so  well  fortified 
us  that  of  Pelusiuin,  where  the  enemy  was  expect- 
ed to  land,  the  descent  was  made  with  no  great  diffi- 
culty. The  fort  was  carried  sword  in  hand,  and  no 
quarter  given  to  those  who  were  found  in  it. 

Aftei  this  signal  action,  Iphicrates  thought  it  advi- 
sable to  sail  up  the  Nile  without  loss  of  time,  and  to 
attack  Memphis,  the  capital  of  Egypt.  If  that  opi- 
nion had  been  followed  before  the  Egyptians  had  had 
time  to  recover  the  panic  into  which  so  formidable  an 
invasion,  and  the  blow  already  received,  had  t.irown 
them,  they  would  have  found  the  capital  without  any 
defence,  it  would  inevitably  have  fallen  into  their 
bands,  and  all  Egypt  been  re-conquered.  But  the 
main  body  of  the  army  not  being  arrived,  Pharnaba- 
zus believed  it  necessary  to  wait  its  coming  up,  and 
would  undertake  nothing,  till  he  had  re-assembled 
all  his  troops,  undtr  pretext,  that  they  would  then  be 
invincible,  and  that  there  would  be  no  obstacle  capa- 
ole  of  withstanding  them. 

Iphicratcs,  who  knew  that,  in  affairs  of  war  espe- 
cially, there  are  certain  favourable  and  decisive  mo- 
ments which  it  is  absolutely  proper  to  seize,  judged 
quite  differently;  and  in  despair  to  see  an  opportuni- 
ty suffer*  d  to  escape,  that  might  never  be  retrieved, 
he  earnestly  demanded  permission  logo  at  least  with 
the  20,000  men  under  his  command.  Pharuabazus 
refused  to  comply  with  that  demand,  out  of  abject 
jealousy  ;  apprehending,  that  if  the  enterprise  succeed- 
ed, the  whole  glory  of  the  war  would  redound  to  Iphi- 


crates. This  delay  gave  the  Egyptians  time  to  look 
about  them.  They  drew  all  their  troops  together  in- 
to a  body,  put  a  good  garrison  into  Memphis,  and 
with  the  rest  of  their  army  kept  the  field,  and  harass- 
ed the  Persians  in  such  a  manner,  that  they  prevent- 
ed their  advancing  farther  into  the  country.  After 
which  came  on  the  inundation  of  the  Nile,  which  lay- 
ing all  Egypt  under  water,  the  Persians  were  obliged 
to  return  into  Phoenicia,  after  having  lost  a  conside- 
rable part  of  their  troops  to  no  purpose. 

Thus  this  expedition,  which  had  cost  immense  sums, 
tnd  from  which  the  preparation  alone  had  given  so 
much  difficulty  for  upwards  of  two  years,  entirely 
miscarried,  and  produced  no  other  effect,  than  an  ir- 
reconcilable enmity  between  the  two  generals  who 
bad  the  command  of  it.  Pharnabazus,  to  excuse  him- 
self, accused  Iphicrates  of  having  prevented  its  suc- 
cess; and  Iphicrate?,  '.vilh  much  more  reason,  laid  all 
the  fault  upon  Pharnabazus.  But  well  assured  that 
that  nobleman  would  be  believed  at  his  court  in  pre- 
ference to  him,  and  remembering  what  had  happened 
to  Conoii,  he  determined,  in  order  to  avoid  the  fate 
of  that  illustrious  Athenian,  to  retire  secretly  to  Athens 
in  a  small  vessel  which  he  hired.  Pharnabazus  caused 
him  to  be  accused  there,  of  having  rendered  the  expe- 
dition against  Egypt  abortive.  The  people  of  Athens 
made  answer,  that  if  he  could  be  convicted  of  that 
crime,  he  should  be  punished  as  he  deserved.  But 
his  im»:er,:e  was  t~o  well  known  at  Athens  to  give 
him  any  disquiet  upon  that  account.  It  does  not  ap- 
pear that  he  was  ever  Called  in  question  about  it;  and 
tome  time  after,  the  Athenians  declared  him  sole 
admiral  of  their  fleet. 

Most  of  the  projects  of  the  Persian  court  generally 
miscarried  by  their  slowness  in  putting  them  in  exe- 
cution.1 Their  generals'  hands  were  tied  up,  and 
ncthing  was  left  to  their  discretion.  They  had  a  plan 
marked  out  for  them  in  their  instructions,  from  which 
they  did  not  dare  to  depart.  If  any  accident  hap- 
pened, that  had  not  been  foreseen  and  provided  for, 
they  must  wait  for  new  orders  from  court,  and  before 
they  arrived  the  opportunity  was  entirely  lost.  Iphi- 
crates, having  observed  that  Pharnabazus  took  his  re- 
Miluti  :.is  with  all  the  presence  of  mind  and  penetra- 
tion that  could  be  desired  in  an  accomplished  gene- 
ral, 'and  that  nevertheless  they  were  not  carried  into 
cstcutijii,  asked  him  one  day,  how  it  happened  that 
he  was  so  quick  in  his  views  and  so  slow  in  his  ac- 
tion* ?  "It  is,"  replied  Pharnabazus,  "because  my 
virws  depend  only  upon  myself,  but  their  execution 
upon  my  master." 


•  Diod.  I.  x  r   •>.  353 


»  Ditxl.  l.xv.  p.  357. 


SECTION  X.— THE  LACED-KMONIANS  SEND  AGE 
SILAUS  TO  THE  AID  OF  TACHOS,  WHO  HAD  RE- 
VOLTED FROM  THE  PERSIANS.  THE  KING  OK 
SPARTA'S  ACTIONS  IN  EG  VPT.  HIS  DEATH.  THK 
GREATEST  PART  OF  THE  PROVINCES  REVOLT 
AGAINST  ARTAXERXES. 

AFTER  the  battle  of  Mantinea,8  both  parties  equally 
weary  of  the  war,  had  entered  into  a  general  peace 
with  all  the  other  states  of  Greece,  upon  the  king  of 
Persia's  plan,  by  which  the  enjoyment  of  it*  laws  and 
liberties  was  secured  to  each  city;  and  the  Messeni- 
ans  were  included  in  it,  notwithstanding  all  the  op- 
position and  intrigues  of  the  Lacedaemonians  to  pre- 
vent it.  Their  rage  upon  this  occasion  separated 
them  from  the  other  Greeks.  They  were  the  only 
people  who  resolved  to  continue  the  war,  from  the 
hope  of  recovering  the  whole  country  ofMejsenia  ia 
a  short  time.  That  resolution,  of  which  Agesilaua 
was  the  author,  occasioned  him  to  be  justly  regarded 
a.s  a  violent  and  obstinate  man,  insatiable  of  glory  and 
command,  who  was  not  afraid  of  involving  the  re- 
public again  in  inevitable  misfortunes,  from  the  ne- 
cessity to  which  the  want  of  money  exposed  them  of 
borrowing  great  sums,  and  of  levying  heavy  imposts 
instead  of  taking  advantage  of  the  favourable  oppor- 
tunity that  now  offered  to  conclude  a  peace,  and  put 
an  end  to  all  their  evils. 

Whilst  mutters  were  thus  passing 
in  Greece,*  Tachos,  who  had  ascend-        A.  M.  3641 
ed  the  throne  of  Egypt,  drew  toge-    Ant.J.C.363 
t  her  as  many  troop*  as  he  could  to  de- 
fend himself  against  the  king  of  Persia,  who  medita- 
ted a  new  invasion  of  Egypt,  notwithstanding  the  ill 
success  of  his  past  endeavours  to  reduce  that  kingdom. 

For  this  purpose  Tachos  sent  into  Greece,  and  ob- 
tained a  body  of  troops  from  the  Lacedaemonians, 
with  Agesilaus  to  command  them,  whom  he  promised 
to  make  generalissimo  of  his  army.  The  Lacedaemo- 
nians were  exasperated  against  Artaxerxes,  from  his 
having  forced  them  to  include  the  Messenians  in  the 
late  peace,  and  were  rejoiced  to  have  this  opportunity 
of  expressing  their  resentment.  Chabrias,  the  Athe- 
nian, went  also  into  the  service  of  Tachos,  but  of  hit 
own  head,  and  without  the  republic's  participation. 

This  commission  did  Agesilaus  no  honour.  It  was 
thought  below  the  dignity  of  a  king  of  Sparta  and  a 
great  captain,  who  had"  made  his  name  glorious 
throughout  the  world,  and  was  then  more  than  eighty 
years  old,  to  receive  the  pay  of  an  Egyptian,  and  to 
"serve  a  Barbarian  who  liad  revolted  against  his  master. 

As  soon  as  he  landed  in  Egypt,  the  king's  principal 
generals  and  the  great  officers  of  his  house  came  to 
his  ship,  to  receive  and  make  their  court  to  him.  The 
resttof  the  Egyptians  were  as  solicitous  to  see  him, 
from  the  great" expectation  which  the  name  and  re- 
nown of  Agesilaus  had  excited  in  them,  and  came  in 
multitude!)  to  the  shore  for  that  purpose.  But  when 
instead  of  a  great  and  magnificent  prince,  according 
to  the  idea  which  his  exploits  had  led  them  to  enter- 
tain of  him,  they  saw  nothing  splendid  or  majestic 
either  in  his  person  or  equipage,  and  saw  only  an  old 
man  of  a  mean  aspect  and  small  stature,  without  any 
striking  appearance,  and  dressed  in  a  sorry  robe  of  a 
very  coarse  stuff,  they  were  seized  with  an  immode- 
rate disposition  to  laugh,  and  applied  the  fable  of  the 
mountain  in  labour  to  him. 

When  he  met  king  Tachos,  and  had  joined  his 
troops  with  those  of  Egypt,  he  was  very  much  sur- 
prised at  finding  that  he  was  not  appointed  general 
of  the  whole  army,  as  he  expected,  but  only  of  th« 
foreign  troops;  that  Chabrias  was  made  general  of 
the  sea-forres,  and  that  Tachos  retained  the  com- 
rnand-in-chief  to  himself.  This  was  not  the  only 
mortifii-ation  he  had  to  experience. 

Tachos  came  to  a  resolution  to  march  into  Phoeni- 
cia,  thinking  it  more  advisable  to  make  that  country 
the  seat  of  war,  than  to  await  the  enemy  in  E-rypt 
Asresilans.  who  knew  belter,  represented  to  him  in 
v«in,  that  nig  affairs  were  not  sufficiently  established 
to  admit  his  removing  out  of  his  dominions;  that  h« 

•  Plut.  in  Ag"eil.  p  616— «13.     Diod.  1  XT.  p  $>7— 401. 
«  Xenoph.  de  reg.  Agesil  p.  663.   Cor.  Nep.  in  Agcsil.  ruL 


488 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


would  do  much  better  to  remain  in  them, and  content 
himself  with  acting  by  his  generals  in  the  enemys' 
country.  Tnrhos  despised  tliis  wise  counsel,  and  ex- 
prc-sed  no  less  disregard  for  him  on  all  other  occa- 
sions. Agesilaus  was  so  much  incensed  at  such  con- 
duct, that  he  joined  the  Egyptians,  who  had  taken 
arms  against  him  during  his  absence,  and  had  placed 
Nectanebus.  his  cousin,  upon  the  throne.'  Agesilaus, 
abandoning  the  king,  to  whose  aid  he  had  been  sent, 
and  joining  the  rebel  who  had  dethroned  him,alledg<d 
in  justification  of  himself,  that  he  was  sent  to  the  as- 
sistance of  the  Egyptians;  and  that  they  having  taken 
op  arms  against  Tachos,  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  serve 
against  them  without  new  orders  from  Sparta.  He 
despatched  expresses  thither;  and  the  instructions  he 
received  were,  to  act  as  he  should  judge  most  advan- 
tageous for  his  country.  He  immediately  declared 
for  Nectanebus.  Tachos,  obliged  to  quit  Egypt,  re- 
tired to  Sidon,  from  whence  he  went  to  the  court  of 
Persia.  Artaxerxes  not  only  forgave  him  his  fault, 
but  even  gave  him  the  command  of  his  troops  against 
the  rebels. 

Agesilaus  covered  so  criminal  a  conduct  with  the 
veil  of  the  public  utility.  But,  says  Plutarch,  let  that 
delusive  blind  be  removed,  the  most  just  and  only  true 
name  which  can  be  given  to  the  action,  is  that  of  per- 
fidy and  treason.  It  is  true  that  the  Lacedaemonians, 
making  the  glorious  and  the  good  consist  principally 
in  the  service  of  their  country,  which  they  idolized, 
knew  no  other  justice  than  what  tended  to  the  aug- 
mentation of  the  grandeur  of  Sparta,  and  the  extend- 
ing of  its  dominions.  I  am  surprised  so  judicious  an 
author  as  Xenophon  should  endeavour  to  palliate  a 
conduct  of  this  kind,  by  saying  only,  that  Agcsilaus 
attached  himself  to  that  of  the  two  kings  who  seemed 
the  best  affected  to  Greece. 

At  the  same  time,  a  third  prince  of  the  citvof  Men- 
des,  set  up  for  himself,  to  dispute  the  crown  with  Nec- 
tanebus. This  new  competitor  hod  an  army  of  100,- 
000  men  to  support  his  pretensions.  Agesilfius  gave 
his  advice  to  attack  them  before  they  were  exercised 
and  disciplined.  Had  that  counsel  been  followed,  it 
would  have  been  easy  to  have  defeated  a  body  of  peo- 
ple raised  in  haste,  and  without  any  experience  in 
war.  But  Nectanebus  imagined  that  Agesilaus  only 
gave  him  this  advice  to  betray  him  afterwards,  as  he 
had  done  Tachos.  He  therefore  gave  his  enemy  time 
to  discipline  his  troops,  who  soon  after  reduced  him 
to  retire  into  a  city,  fortified  v^ith  good  walls, and  of 
very  great  extent.  Agesilaus  was  obliged  to  follow 
him  thither;  where  the  Mendesian  prince  besieged 
them.  Nectanebus  would  then  have  attacked  the  ene- 
my before  his  works,  (which  were  begun  in  order  to 
surround  the  city)  were  advanced,  and  pressed  Affesi- 
laus  to  that  purpose;  but  he  refused  to  comply  at  first, 
which  extremely  augmented  the  suspicions  conceived 
of  him.  At  length,  when  he  saw  the  work  in  a  suffi- 
cient forwardness,  and  that  there  remained  only  as 
much  ground  between  the  two  ends  of  the  line  as  the 
troops  within  the  city  might  occupy, drawn  up  in  bat- 
tle, he  told  Nectanebus  that  it  was  time  to  attack  the 
enemy,  that  their  own  lines  would  prevent  their  sur- 
rounding him,  and  that  the  interval  between  them  was 
exactly  the  spare  he  wanted,  for  ranging  his  troops 
in  such  a  manner  as  that  they  might  all  act  together 
effectively.  The  attack  was  executed  according  (o 
Agesilaus's  plan;  the  besiegers  were  beaten,  and  from 
thenceforth  Agesilaus  conducted  all  the  operations 
of  the  war  with  so  much  success,  that  the  prince  their 
enemy  was  always  overcome,  and  at  last  taken  pri- 
soner. 

A  M  3643  ^e  f°"ow'n£  winter,  after  having 
Ant  J  C  361 "  "nn'y  established  Nectanebus,  he 
'  embarked  to  return  to  Lacednemon, 
»nd  was  driven  by  contrary  winds  upon  the  coast  of 
Africa,  into  a  place  culled  the  port  of  Menelaus, 
where  he  fell  sick  and  died,  at  the  age  of  four  score 
and  four  years.  He  had  reigned  forty-one  of  them 
at  Sparta ;  and  of  those  forty-one  he  had  passed  thirty 
with  (he  reputation  of  the  greatest  and  most  power- 
ful of  all  the  Greeks,  and  had  been  looked  upon  as 
the  leader  and  kinjr  of  almost  all  Greece,  till  the  bat- 


>  Diuduruc  rails  him  his  tun  ;  Plutarch,  his  cou  <in. 


tie  of  Leuctra.  His  latter  years  did  i.  entirely  sup. 
port  the  reputation  he  had  acquired;  and  Xenophoii 
in  his  i  ulu»iiim  of  this  prince,  wherein  he  gives  him 
the  preference  to  all  other  captains,  has  been  found 
to  exaggerate  his  virtues,  and  extenuate  his  faulu 
too  mucn. 

The  body  of  Agesilaus  was  carried  to  Sparta.  Those 
who  were  about  him  not  having  honev.  with  which  it 
was  the  Spartan  custom  to  cover  tlie  bodies  they1 
wished  to  embalm,  made  use  ot  wax  in  itssttad.  His 
son  Archidamus  succeeded  to  the  throne,  which  con- 
tinued in  his  house  down  to  Agis,  who  was  the  fifth 
king  of  the  line  of  Agesilaus. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  Egyptian  war,  the  greatest 
part  of  the  provinces  in  subjection  to  Persia  revolted. 

Artaxerxes  Mnemon  had  been  the  involuntary  occa- 
sion of  this  defection.  That  prince,  of  himself,  was 
good,  equitable,  and  benevolent.  He  loved  hi."  peo- 
ple and  was  beloved  by  them.  He  had  abundance  of 
mildness  and  sweetness  of  temper  in  his  character, 
but  that  easiness  degenerated  into  sloth  and  luxury 
and  particularly  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  in  which 
he  discovered  a  dislike  for  all  business  and  applica- 
tion, from  whence  the  good  qualities  which  he  other- 
wise possessed,  as  well  as  his  beneficent  intentions, 
became  useless  and  without  effect.  The  satrnps  and 
governors  of  provinces,  abusing  his  favour  and  the 
infirmities  of  his  great  age,  oppressed  the  people, 
treated  them  with  insolence  and  crut  Ity,  loaded  them) 
with  taxes,  and  did  every  thing  in  their  power  to 
render  the  Persian  yoke  insupportable. 

The  discontent  became  general,  and  broke  out,  af- 
ter long  suffering,  almost  at  the  same  time  on  all  sides. 
Asia  Minor,  Syria,  Phoenicia,  and  many  other  pro- 
vinces, declared  themselves  openly,  and  took  up  arms. 
The  principal  leaders  of  the  conspiracy  were  Ario- 
barzanes  satrap  of  Phrygia,  Mausolus  kingofCaria, 
Orontes  governor  of  Mysia,  and  Autophradates  go- 
vernor of  Lydia.  Datames,  of  whom  mention  has 
been  made  before,  »nd  who  commanded  in  Cappado- 
cia,  was  also  engaged  in  it.  By  this  means,  half  the 
revenues  of  the  crown  were  on  a  sudden  diverted 
into  different  channels,  and  the  reminder  would  not 
have  been  sufficient  for  the  expenses  of  a  war  against 
the  revolters,  had  they  acted  in  concert.  But  their 
union  was  of  no  long  continuance;  and  those  who  had 
been  the.  first  and  most  zealous  in  shaking  off  the  yoke 
were  also  the  foremost  in  resuming  it,  and  in  In  tra\  ing 
the  interests  of  the  others,  to  make  their  peace  with 
the  king. 

The  provinces  of  Asia  Minor,  on  withdrawing  from 
their  obedience,  had  entered  into  a  confederacy  for 
their  mutual  defence,  and  had  chosen  Orontes,  go- 
vernor of  Mysia,  for  their  general.  They  had  also 
resolved  to  add  20,000  foreign  troops  to  those  of  the 
country,  and  had  charged  the  same  Orontes  with  the 
care  of  raising  them.  But  when  he  had  got  the  mo- 
ney for  that  service  into  his  hands,  with  the  addition 
of  a  year's  pay,  he  kept  it  for  himself,  and  delivered 
to  the  king  the  persons  who  had  brought  it  from  the 
revolted  provinces. 

Reomithras,  another  of  the  chiefs  of  Asia  Minor, 
being  sent  into  Egypt2  to  draw  succours  from  that 
kingdom,  committed  a  treachery  of  a  like  nature. 
Havfng  brought  from  that  country  500  talents  and 
fifty  ships  of  war,  he  assembled  the  principal  revolters 
at  Leucas,  a  city  of  Asia  Minor,  under  pretence  of 
giving  them  an  account  of  his  negotiation,  seized 
them  all,  delivered  them  to  the  king  to  make  his 
peace,  and  kept  the  money  he  had  received  in  Egypt 
for  the  confederacy.  Thus  this  formidable  revolt, 
which  had  brought  the  Persian  empire,  to  the  very 
brink  of  ruin,  dissolved  of  itself,  or  to  speak  rnor* 
properly,  was  suspended  for  some  time. 
SECTION  XI  .—TROUBLES  AT  THE  COURT  OF  AR- 
TAXERXES CONCERM.NG  HIS  SUCCESSOR.  DEATH 

OF  THAT  PRINCE. 

THE  end  of  Artaxerxes's  reign  abounded  with 
cabals.3  The  whole  court  were  divided  into  factions 


*  Diixlnrux  s-.-iy  he  w;is  s.-ni  in  Turhus,  but  il  il  mor* 
likely  tliat  it  was  to  Nectanebu*, 

»  i'lut.  in  Artax.  ».  11M4— 11W7.  Diod.  1  xv  n  4«A).  J»> 
tin.  1.  x.  c.  I,  si. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


4S«J 


in  favour  of  one  or  other  of  hn  son«,  who  pretended 
to  the  succession.  He  had  350  by  his  Concubine?, 
who  were  in  number  360,  and  three  by  his  lawful 
wile  Aljssa.;  Darius,  Aria«|>es,  and  Ochus.  To  put 
a  stop  to  these  intrigues,  he  declared  Darius,  the 
eldest,  his  successor:  and  to  remove  all  cause  of 
disputing'  that  prince's  right  alter  his  death,  he 
permitted  him  to  assume  from  thenceforth  the  title 
of  king,  and  to  wear  the  royal  liara.1  But  the  young 
priri'-e  was  for  having  something  more  real.  Besides 
which,  the  refusal  of  Artaxerxes  to  give  him  one  of  his 
concubine?,  whom  he  had  demanded,  had  extremely 
incensed  him,  and  he  formed  a  conspiracy  against  his 
father's  life,  wherein  he  engaged  fifty  of  his  brothers. 

It  was  Tirihizus,  of  whom  mention  has  been  made 
several  times  in  the  preceding  volume,  who  contri- 
buted the  most  to  his  taking  so  a D natural  a  resolution, 
from  a  like  subject  of  discontent  against  the  king; 
who  having  promised  to  give  him  first  one  of  his 
daughters  in  marriage,  and  then  another,  broke  his 
word  both  times,  and  married  them  himself.  Such 
abominable  incest  was  permitted  at  that  time  in 
Persia,  the  religion  of  the  nation  not  prohibiting  it. 

The  number  of  the  conspirators  was  already  very 
great,  and  the  day  fixed  for  the  execution,  when  a 
eunuch,  well  informed  of  the  whole  plot,  discovered 
it  to  the  king.  Upon  that  information,  Artaxerxes 
thought  it-would  be  highly  imprudent  to  despise  so 
great  a  danger,  by  neglecting  a  strict  inquiry  into  it; 
but  that  it  would  be  much  more  so,  to  give  credit  to 
it  without  'certain  and  unquestionable  proof.  He 
assured  himself  of  it  with  his  own  eve*.  The  conspi- 
rat-.rs  were  suffered  to  enter  the  king's  apartment, 
and  then  seized.  Darius  and  all  his  accomplices 
were  punished  as  they  deserved. 

After  the  death  ol  Darius,  the  cabals  began  again. 
Three  of  his  brothers  were  comi  etitors;  Ariaspes, 
Ochiis,  and  Arsames.  The  two  former  pretended  to 
the  throne  in  right  of  birth,  being  the  sons  of  the 
queen.  The  third  had  the  king's  favour,  who  ten- 
derly loved  him,  though  only  the  son  of  a  concubine. 
Ochus  prompted  by  his  restless  ambition,  studied 
perpetually  the  means  to  rid  himself  of  both  his 
rivali.  As  he  was  equally  cunning  and  cruel,  he 
employed  his  craft  and  artifice  against  Ariaspes,  and 
his  cru«l;y  against  Arsames.  Knowing  the  former 
to  be  extremely  simple  acid  credulous,  he  made  the 
eunuchs  of  the  palace,  whom  he  had  found  means  to 
corrupt,  threaten  him  so  terribly  in  the  name  of  the 
king  liis  father,  that,  expecting  every  moment  to  be 
treated  as  Darius  had  been,  he  poisoned  himself  to 
avoid  it.  After  this,  there  remained  only  Arsames 
to  give  him  umbrage,  because  his  father  and  all  the 
world  considered  that  prince  as  most  worthy  of  the 
throne,  from  his  ability  and  other  excellent  qualities. 
Him  he  caused  to  be  assassinated  by  Harpates,  son 
of  Tiribazus. 

This  loss,  which  followed  close  upon  the  other,  and 
the  exceeding  wickedness  with  which  both  were  at- 
tended, gave  the  old  king  a  grief  that  proved  mortal: 
nor  is  it  surprising,  that  at  his  age  he  should  not  have 
strength  enough  to  support  so  great* 

A.  M.  36-13.  an  affliction.  It  overpowered  him. 
Aat.  J.  C.361.  and  brought  him  to  the  grave,  after 
a  reiirn  of  forty-three  years,  which 
mign:  have  been  called  happy,  if  it  had  not  been 
interrupted  by  many  revolts.  That  of  his  successor 
will  be  no  less  disturbed  with  them. 

SECTION  XII.— CAUSES  OF  THE  FRKQUENT  INSUR- 
RECTIONS AND  REVOLTS  IN  THE  PERSIAN  EMPIRE. 

I  IMVE  taken  care  in  relation  to  the  sedition*  that 
happened  in  the  Persian  empire,  to  observe  from 
time  to  time  the  ubuses  which  occasioned  them.  But 
as  these  revolts  were  more  frequent  than  ever  in  the 
lattt  r  \ears,  and  will  be  more  so,  especially  in  the 
succeeding  rei-rn.  I  thought  it  would  be  projxr  to 
unite  here,  under  one  point  of  view,  the  different 
can"  -  of  these  insurrection*,  which  foretell  the 
approarh'ns:  decline  of  the  lVr»i:in  empire. 

t  Tliis  tiara  wan  a  turban,  or  kind  of  head-dree*,  with  the 
plum"  of  feathers  standing  uprishl  upon  it.  The  seven 
counsellor*  had  also  plum>'«  of  feather*,  but  these  lh<-v  wore 
aslant,  an  J  before  All  others  wore  tlu-m  aslant,  and  behind. 

VOL.  I.— 62 


I.  After  the  reign  of  Artaxerxes.  Longiinanus,  th 
kin<;s  of  Persia  abandoned  themselves  more  and  more 
to  the  charms  of  voluptuousness  and  luxury,  and  l!,u 
delights  of  an   indolent  and  inactive   life.     Shut  up 
gt  ni  rally    in  their   palaces,  amongst    women  and    a 
crowd   of  flatterers,  they  contented  thtmselvf s  with 
enjoying,   in    soft   effeminate   ease  and    idleness,  thn 
pleisnre    of    universal    command,    and     make    theit 
grandeur  consist  in  the  splendid  glare  of  riches  and 
an  expensive  magnificence. 

II.  They  were,  besides,  princes  of  no  great  talents 
for  the  conduct  of  affairs,  of  small  capacity  in  the  art 
of  governing,    and    void    of    taste    lor   glorv.     Not 
having  a  sutficient  extent  of  mind  to  animate  all  the 
parts  of  so  vast  an  empire,  nor  sufficient  strength  to 
support  the   weight  of  it,   they   transferred  to  their 
officers  the  cares  of  public  bu»iness,  the  fatigues  of 
commanding  armies,  and  the  dangers  which  attend 
the  execution    of  great   enterprises;  confining    their 
ambition  to  bearing  alone  the  lofty  title  of  the  Great 
Kinir,  and  the  King  of  kiiijrs. 

III.  The  great  officers  of  the  crown,  the  govern- 
ment of  the  provinces,  the  command  of  armies,  were 
generally  bestowed   upon  people  without  either  the 
claim  o!  service  or  merit.     It  was  the  influence  of  the 
favourites,    the   secret    intrigues    of    the    court,    the 
solicitations    of   the    women    of    the    palace,    which 
determined  the  choice  of  the   persons  who  were  to 
fill    the    most    important    posts   of  the    empire,   and 
appropriated  the  rewards  due  to  the  officers  who  had 
done  the  state  real  service,  to  their  own  creatures. 

IV.  These  courtiers,    frequently,    through   a  ba»« 
and    mean  jealousy   of  the    merit    that   gave    them 
umbrage  and    reproached    their    small  abilities,    re- 
moved  their  rivals   from   public  employments,  and 
rendered   their  talents  useless  to   the  state.     Some- 
times   they  would    even  cause    their   fidelity    to  be 
suspected  by  false  informations,*  bring  them  to   trial 
as  criminals  against  the  state,*  and  force  the  king's 
most  faithlul  servants,  in  order  to  defend  themselves 
against  their   calumniators,    to    seek   their   safety  in 
rerolting  and    in   turning    those   arms   against    their 
prince,  which  they  had  so  often  made  triumph  for  his 
glory  and  the  service  of  the  empire. 

V.  The  ministers,  to  hold    the  generals  in  depen- 
dence, restrained  them  under  sach  limited  orders  as 
obliged  them  to  let  slip  the  opportunities  of  conquer- 
ing, and   prevented  them,  by  waiting  for  new  orders, 
from    pushing    their    advantages.     They    also    often 
made  them  responsible  for  their  bad  success,  after 
having    let    them    want    every    thing    necessary    to 
conduct  to  it. 

VI.  The   kings   of  Persia  had  extremely   degene- 
rated   from  the   frugality  of  Cyrus  and  the  ancient 
Persians,  who  contented  themselves  with  cresses  and 
salads  for  their  food,  and  water  for  their  drink.    The 
whole  nobility  had  been  infected  with  the  contagion 
of  this  example.     In  retaining  the  single  meal  of  their 
ancestors,  they  made  it  last  during  the  greatest  part 
of  the  day,  and  prolonged   it  far  into  the  night  by 
drinking  to  excess;  and  far  from  being  ashamed  of 
drunkenness,  they  made  it  their  glory,  as  we  have 
seen  in  the  younger  Cyrus. 

VII.  The   extreme  remoteness  of  the   provinces, 
which  extended  from  the  Caspian  and  Fuxine  to  the 
Red  Sea  and  Ethiopia,  and  from  the  rivers  Ganges* 
and  le.dus  to  the  ^Egean  Sea,  was  a  great  obstacle  to 
the   fidelity  and  affection  of  the  people,  who  never 
had  the  satisfaction    to  enjoy  the  presence  of  their 
master*;  who  knew  them  only  by  the  weight  of  their 
taxation*,  and  by  the  pride  and  avarice  of  their  satraps 
or  governors;  and  who,  in  transporting  themselves  to 
the  court,    to  make    their  demands   and  complaints 
there,  could  not  hope  to  find  access  to  princes,  who 
believed   it  contributed   to  the  majesty  of  their  per- 
sons to  mai-e  themselves  inaccessible  and  invisible. 

VIII.  The  multitude  of  the  provinces  in  subjection 
to  Persia  did  not  compose  a  uniform  empire,  nor  the 


«  Pharnahazu'.  Tiribazus.  *  Damme*.  &c. 

•  [Our  author  i«  mistaken  here.  The  Persian  c  r:i|>ire 
never  extended  to  the  Ganpct.  I'  extended  only  a  *horl 
way  beyond  the  Indiio.  into  the  Funjaub.  Sue  a  fuimcr 
note  on  Darius'  conquest  of  India  "> 


490 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


regular  body  01  a  *tate  wn<v?e  members  were  united 
ty  the  common  ties  of  interest,  manners,  language, 
and  religion,  and  animated  with  the  same  spirit  of 
government,  under  the  guidance  of  the  same  laws. 
It  was  rather  a  confused,  disjointed,  tumultuous,  and 
even  forced  assemblage  of  different  nations,  formerly 
free  and  independent;  of  whom  some,  who  were  torn 
from  their  native  countries  and  the  sepulchres  of  their 
forefathers,  saw  themselves  with  grief  transported  in- 
to unknown  regions,  or  amongst  enemies,  where  they 
persevered  in  retaining  their  own  laws  and  customs, 
and  a  form  of  government  peculiar  to  themselves. 
These  different  nations,  who  not  only  lived  without 
any  common  tie  or  relation  between  them,  but  with  a 
diversity  of  manners  and  worship,  and  often  with  an- 
tipathy of  characters  and  inclinations,  desired  nothing 
to  ardently  as  their  liberty  and  re-establishment  in 
their  own  countries.  All  these  people  therefore  were 
unconcerned  for  the  preservation  of  an  empire 
which  was  the  sole  obstacle  to  their  so  warm  and  just 
desires,  and  could  not  feel  any  affection  fora  govern- 
ment that  treated  them  always  us  strangers  and  sub- 
jected nations,  and  never  gave  them  any  share  in  its 
authority  or  privileges. 

IX.  The  extent  of  the  empire,  and  its  remoteness 
from  the  court,  made  it  necessary  to  give  the  viceroys 
of  the  frontier  provinces  a  very  great  authority  in  every 
branch  of  government;  to  raise  and  pay  armies;  to 
impose  tributes;  to  adjudge  the  quarrels  of  cities, 
provinces,  and  vassal  kings;  and  to  make  treaties 
wi'.h  the  neighbouring  states.  A  power  so  extensive 
and  almost  independent,  in  which  they  continued 
many  years  without  being  changed,  and  without  col- 
leagues or  council  to  deliberate  upon  the  afl'nirs  of 
their  provinces,  accustomed  them  to  the  pleasure  of 


commanding  absolutely  and  of  reigning.  In  conse- 
quence of  which,  it  was  with  great  repugnance  they 
submitted  to  be  removed  from  their  governments,  and 
often  endeavoured  to  support  themselves  in  them  by 
force  of  arms. 

X.  The  governorv  of  prjvinces,  the  generals  of  ar- 
mies, and  all  the  other  officers  anil  ministers,  gloried 
in  imitating  in  their  equipages,  tables,  furniture,  and 
dress,  the  pomp  and  splendour  of  the  court  in  which 
they  had  been  educated.  To  support  so  destra;:tive 
a  pride,  and  to  supply  expenses  so  much  shove  the  for* 
tunes  of  private  persons,  they  were  reduced  to  op- 
press the  subjects  under  their  jurisdiction  with  ex- 
orbitant taxes,  flagrant  extortions  nnd  the  shameful 
traffic  of  a  public  venality,  that  set  those  offices  tt, 
sale  for  money,  which  ought  to  have  been  granted 
only  to  merit.  All  that  vanity  lavished,  or  luxury 
exhausted,  was  made  good  by  mean  arts,  and  the 
violent  rapaciousness  of  an  insatiable  avarice. 

These  gross  irregularities,  and  abundance  of  others, 
which  remained  without  remedy,  and  which  were 
daily  augmented  by  impunity,  tired  the  people's  pa- 
tience, and  occasioned  a  general  discontent  amongst 
them,  the  usual  forerunner  of  the  ruin  of  states. 
Their  just  complaints,  long  time  despised,  were  fol- 
lowed by  an  open  rebellion  of  several  nations,  who 
endeavoured  to  do  themselves  that  justice  by  force, 
which  was  refused  to  their  remonstrances.  In  such 
a  conduct,  they  failed  in  the  submission  and  fidelity 
which  subjects  owe  to  their  sovereigns;  hut  Pagan- 
ism did  not  carry  its  lights  so  far,  and  was  not  capa- 
ble of  so  sublime  a  perfection,  which  was  reserved 
for  a  religion  that  teaches,  that  no  pretext,  no  injus- 
tice, no  vexation,  can  ever  authorise  the  rebellion  of 
a  people  against  their  prince. 


THE  HISTORY 

OF  THE 


PERSIANS   AND    GRECIANS. 


BOOK  XIII. 


SECTION.  I.— OCHTJS  ASCENDS  THE  THRONE  OF 
PK.RSIA.  HIS  CRUELTIES.  REVOLT  OF  SEVERAL 
NATIONS. 

THE  more  the  memory  of  Artaxerxes  Mnemon 
was  honoured  and  revered  throughout  the  whole  em- 
pire, the  more  Ochus  believed  he  had  reason  to  fear 
for  himself;  convinced,  that  in  succeeding  to  him,  he 
should  not  find  the  name  favourable  dispositions  in 
the  people  and  nubiliu  ,  by  whom  he  had  made  him- 
self abhorred  for  the  murder  of  his  two  brothers.  To 
prevent  that  aversion  from  occasioning  his  exclusion,1 
he  prevailed  upon  the  eunuchs,  and  others  about  the 
king's  persons,  to  conceal  his  death  from  the  public. 
He  began  by  taking  upon  himself  the  administration 
of  affairs,  giving  orders  niv.l  sealing  decrees  fn  the 
name  of  Artnxerxes.as  if  he  had  been  still  alive;  and 
by  one  of  those  decrees  he  caused  himself  to  be  pro- 
Claimed  king  throughout  the  whole  empire,  still  by  the 
\rderofArtaxerxes.  Aiter  having  governed  in"  this 


manner  almost  ten  months,  believing  himself  suffi- 
ciently established,  he  at  length  declared  the  death 
of  his  father,  and  ascended  the  throne,  taking  upon 
himself  the  name  of  Artaxerxes.    Au- 
thors, however,  most  frequently  give        A.  M.  3644. 
him  that  of  Ochus,  by  which  name  I    Ant.  J.  C.  360. 
shall  generally  call  him  in  the  sequel       . 
of  this  history. 

Ochus  was  the  most  cruel  and  wicked  of  all  the 
princes  of  his  race,  as  his  actions  soon  evinced.  In  la 
very  short  time  the  palace  and  the  whole  empire  were 
filled  with  his  murders.  To  remove  from  the  revolt- 
ed provinces  all  pretext  of  setting  some  other  of  tht 
royal  family  upon  the  throne,2  and  to  rid  himself  at 
once  of  all  trouble  that  the  princes  and  princesses  of 
the  blood  might  occasion  him,  he  put  them  all  ia 
death,  without  regard  to  sex,  age  or  proximity  of 
blood.  He  caused  his  own  sister  Ocha,  whose  daugh- 
ter he  had  married,  to  be  buried  alive;  and  having 


>  Polycn.  a  ratag.  vii 


*  Justin.  I.  z.  c.  3. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


491 


ihcit  up  one  of  his  uncles,  with  100  of  his  sons  and 
grandson*,1  in  a  court  of  the  palace,  he  ordered  them 
k!l  to  be  shot  to  death  with  arrows,  only  because  those 
princes  were  much  esteemed  by  the  1'ersians  for  their 
probity  and  valour.  That  uncle  is  probably  the  fa- 
ther of  Sisvgambis,  the  mother  of  Darius  Codoman- 
nus:  for  Qumtus  Curtiu?2  tells  us  that  Ochus  had 
ca-^»;l  fourscore  of  her  brothers,  with  their  father,  to 
be  massacred  in  one  day.  He  treated  with  tne  same 
barbarity,  throughout  the  whole  empire,  all  those  who 
gave  him  any  umbrage,  sparing  none  of  the  nobility 
whom  he  suspected  of  harbouring  the  least  discon- 
tent whatsoever. 

The  cruelties  exercised  by  Ochus 

A.  M.  3648.  did  not  deliver  him  from  inquietude.* 
Ant.  J.  C.  356.  Artabazus,  governor  of  one  of  the 
Asiatic  provinces,  engaged  Chares  the 
Athenian,  who  commanded  a  Heel  and  a  body  of 
troops  in  those  parts,  to  assist  him,  and  with  his  aid 
defeated  an  army  of  70,000  men  sent  by  the  king  to 
reduce  him.  Artabazus,  in  reward  of  so  great  a 
service,  made  Chares  a  present  of  money-  to  defray 
the  whole  expenses  of  his  armament.  The  king  of 
Persia  resented  exceedingly  this  conduct  of  the  Athe- 
nians towards  him.  They  were  at  that  time  employ- 
ed in  the  war  of  the  allies.  The  king's  menace  to 
join  their  enemies  with  a  numerous  army  obliged 
them  to  recall  Chares. 

Artabazus,    being    abandoned    by 

A.  M.  3651.  them,  had  recourse  to  the  Thebans, 
Ant.  J.  C.  353.  of  whom  he  obtained  5000  men  that 
he  took  into  his  pay,  with  Pammenes, 
to  command  them.  This  reinforcement  put  him  into 
a  condition  to  acquire  two  signal  victories  over  the 
king's  troo|>s.  Those  two  actions  did  the  Theban 
troops  and  their  commander  great  honour.  Thebes 
mu?t  have  been  extremely  incensed  against  the  king 
of  Persia,  to  send  so  powerful  a  succour  to  his  ene- 
mies at  a  time  when  that  republic  was  engaged  in  a 
war  with  the  Phocaeans.  It  was,  perhaps,  an  ert'ect 
of  their  policy,  to  render  themselves  more  formida- 
ble, and  to  enhance  the  price  of  their  alliance.  It  is 
certain  that  «oon  after  they  made  their  peace  with 
the  king,4  who  paid  them  300  talents,  that  is  to  say, 
300,000  crown?.  Artabazus,  destitute  of  all  support, 
was  overcome  at  last,  and  obliged  to  take  refuge  with 
Philip  in  Macedon. 

Ochus  being  delivered  at  length  from  so  dangerous 
an  enemy,  turned  all  his  thoughts  towards  Kgypt.that 
bad  revolted  long  before.  Alxjut  the  same  time  seve- 
ral considerable  events  happened  in  Greece,  which 
have  little  or  no  connexion  with  the  affairs  of  Persia. 
I  shall  insert  them  here,  alter  which  I  shall  return  to 
the  reign  of  Ochus,  not  to  interrupt  the  series  of  his 
history. 

SECTION   II.— WAR  OF  THE  AIX1ES  AGAINST  THE 

ATHENIANS. 

So.ME  few  years  after  the  revolt  of 

A.  M.  3646.  Asia  Minor,  of  whirh  I  have  been 
Ant.  J.  C.  358.  speaking,  in  the  third  year  of  the 
105th  Olympiad,  Chios,  Cos,  Rhodes, 
and  Byzantium,  took  up  arms  against  Athens,  upon 
which  till  then  they  had  been  dependant.  To  reduce 
them,  the  Athenians  employed  both  great  forces  and 
great  captains;  Chabrias,  Iphicrates.  and  Timotheus. 
They  were  the  last  of  the  Athenian  generals,5  who 
did  honour  to  (heir  country;  no  one  after  them  dis- 
tingu'ehing  himself  by  his  merit  or  reputation. 

CtabrtM  had  already  acquired  a  great  name,6  when, 
bavin:;  been  sent  to  (he  aid  of  the  Thebans.  against 
the  Spartans,  and  seeing  himself  abandoned  in  the 
battle  by  the  allies,  who  had  taken  (light,  he  sustained 
alone  the  charge  of  the  enemy;  hU  soldiers,  by  hi« 
order,  having  closed  their  files  with  one  knee  u|K>n 
the  ground,  covered  with  their  buckler*,  and  pre- 


»  V*..  Mat.  I.  IX.  r    i*.  »  Uuini.  Curl.  I.  X.  r.  5. 

•  Di.Ki.  i.  xvi.  p.  m  M.  «  nimi.  i.  xvi.  p.  -m 

•  lln-c  rxtrrma    full    »'tn«   imprratorum     Alhcntcnoium, 
l|>hi<Tatis.  Cnaliriir.  Timothri ;  nri|uc    |>nH   illnrum   oliitum 
{ui«|ii:iin  <lu  (  in  ilia  urlic  full  ilijnus  mcmoria.     Cor.  Aty. 
in  '/>«<>/  ••  ./. 

•  Cur.  NCJI.  in  Cliab  c.  i. 


renting  their  pikes  in  front  in  such  a  manner  that 
they  could  not  be  broken;  and  Agesilaus,  though 
victorious,  was  obliged  to  rttire.  The  Athenians 
erected  a  statue  to  Chabrias  in  the  attitude  in  which 
he  had  fought. 

Iphicrates  was  of  a  very  mean  extraction,  his  fuher 
having  been  a  shoemaker.  But  in  a  free  city  like 
Athens,  merit  was  the  sole  nobility.  This  person  may 
b>i  truly  said  to  have  been  the  son  of  his  actions.  Ha- 
ving signalized  himself  in  a  naval  combat,  wherein  ha 
was  only  a  private  soldier,  he  was  soon  after  employed 
with  distinction,  and  honoured  witti  a  command,  la 
a  prosecution  carried  on  against  him  before  the  judge*, 
his  accuser,  who  was  one  of  the  descendants  of  Har 
modius,  and  plumed  himself  extremely  upon  his  an 
cestor's  name,  having  reproached  him  with  the  base 
ne?s  of  his  birth;  "Yes,"  replied  he,  "the  nobilitr 
of  my  family  begins  in  me;  that  ol  yours  ends  in  you." 
He  married  the  daughter  of  Cotys,  king  of  Thrace 

7  He  is  ranked8  with  the  greatest  men  of  Greece 
especially  i:i  what  regards  the  knowledge  of  war  and 
military  discipline.  He  made  several  useful  altera- 
tions in  the  soldiers'  armour.  Before  his  time  the 
bucklers  were  very  long  and  heavy,  and  for  that  rea- 
son were  too  great  a  burden,  and  extremely  cumber- 
some. He  had  them  made  shorter  and  fighter,  «o 
that,  without  exposing  the  body,  they  added  to  its 
force  and  agility.  On  the  contrary,  he  lengthened 
the  pikes  and  swords,  to  make  them  capable  of  reach- 
ing the  enemy  at  a  greater  distance.  He  also  changed 
the  cuirasses,  and  instead  of  iron  xnd  brass,  of  which 
they  were  made  before,  he  caused  them  to  be  made 
of  fmen.  It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  how  such  armour 
could  defend  the  soldiers,  or  be  any  security  against 
wounds:  but  the  linen,  being  soaked  in  vinegar,  min- 
gled with  salt,  was  prepared  in  such  a  manner,  that 
it  grew  hard,  and  became  impenetrable  to  the  sword 
as  well  as  fire.  The  use  of  it  was  common  amongst 
several  nations. 

No  troops  were  ever  better  exercised  or  disciplined 
than  those  of  Iphicrates.  He  kept  them  always  in 
action,  and  in  limes  of  peace  and  tranquillity  made 
them  perform  all  the  necessary  evolutions,  either  for 
attacking  the  enemy,  or  defending  themselves;  for 
laying  ambuscades  or  avoiding  them;  for  keeping 
their  ranks  even  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy,  without  aban- 
doning themselves  to  an  ardour  which  often  becomes 
pernicious;  or  to  rally  with  success,  after  having  be- 
gun to  break  and  give  way.  So  that  when  a  battle 
was  to  be  fought,  on  the  first  signal  all  was  in  motion 
with  admirable  promptitude  and  order.  The  officers 
and  soldiers  drew  themselves  up  of  their  own  accord, 
in  order  of  battle,  and  even  in  the  heat  of  action  per- 
formed their  parts  as  the  most  able  general  would 
have  directed  them;  a  merit  very  rare, as  I  have  been 
informed,  but  very  estimable;  as  it  contributes  more 
than  can  be  imagined  to  the  gaining  of  a  battle,  and 
implies  a  very  uncommon  superiority  of  genius  in  the 
general. 

Timotheus  was  the  son  of  Conon,  so  much  celebra- 
ted for  his  great  actions  and  the  important  services 
he  had  rendered  his  country.  He  did  not  degenerate 
from  his  father's  reputation.9  either  with  regard  to  his 
merit  in  the  field,  or  hi*  ability  in  the  govei  nment  of 
the  state;  but  he  added  to  those  excellencies  the  glory 
which  results  from  the  talents  of  the  mind,  having 
distinguished  himself  particularly  by  the  gift  of  elo- 
quence and  a  tasl£  for  the  sciences. 

No  captain  at  first  ever  experienced  less  than  him- 
self the  inconstancy  of  the  fortune  of  war.10  He  had 
only  to  undertake  an  enterprise,  to  accomplish  it. 


i  Diixl.  I.  xv.  p.  3X).    Cor.  Npp.  in  Iphic.  c.  1. 

•  IphirrBirs   AtlK'ni<>n5i«,   mm   lam   mmrnitudine  rerum 
lo-tariini.  ipiam    ilisciplirri   militnri   nobiliiatu*  r*t      Fuit 
enim  lu\\<  ilux.  ut  non  soliim  aMatis  sum  cum  primi*  roni|m- 
rarolur,  ceil   no  ile  mujoribud  natu   quidem  c]ui«|uum  auto* 
|N>ncrrtnr.     Cor  Wep. 

•  Mir  n  patre  nrm<piam  plnHam  mulli*  nuxit  vir'utibut. 
Fui*  enim  ilisrrlus,  impirrr.  lulx>rii>«us.  rn  militarii  jerilut, 
nri|uc  minfis  riviialis  ri'rmtlip.     Cor.  Jt'ep   r.  i. 

Timolhous  runoiii*  filiui,  rtim  Ix-lli  laudc  non  inferior 
fui«ct  cjiiam  |tui-r.  ail  earn  Inuilc'm  iluetrir*  et  injcn..  g>ori> 
am  ailjiTii.  Or.  I.  i.  de  Offic,  n.  HO. 

«•  I'lut  Svl.  n.454. 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Six-cess  perpetually  attended  his  views  and  desires. 
Such  unc  Miimun  prosperity  did  not  tail  to  excite  jea- 
lousy. Those  who  envied  him,  as  I  have  already  ob- 
served, caused  him  to  be  painted  a?leep,  with  Fortune 
by  his  side  taking  cities  tor  him  in  nets.  Timotheus 
retorted  coollv.  "  Ft"  I  take  places  in  my  sleep,  what 
shali  I  do  wht'n  I  am  awake?"  He  took  the  thin;:  af- 
terwards more  seriously ;  and  angry  with  those  who 
nretended  to  lessen  the  glory  of  Ins  actions,  declared 
in  public,  that  he  did  not  owe  his  success  to  Fortune, 
but  to  himself.  That  goddess, says  Plutarch,  offended 
at  his  pride  and  arrogance,  abandoned  him  afterward* 
entirely,  and  he  was  never  successful  afterwards. 
Such  were  the  chiefs  employed  in  the  war  of  the  allies. 

The  war  and  the  campaign  opened  with  the  siege 
of  Chios.  Chares  commanded  the  land,  and  Chabrias 
the  sea  forces.1  All  the  allies  exerted  themselves  in 
sending  aid  to  that  island.  Chabrias,  having:  forced 
the  mouth  of  the  harbour,  entered  it  notwithstanding 
all  the  endeavours  of  the  enemy.  The  other  galleys 
were  afraid  to  follow,  and  abandoned  him.  He  was 
immediately  surrounded  on  all  sides,  and  his  vessel 
exceedingly  damaged  by  the  assaults  of  the  enemy. 
He  might  have  saved  himself  by  swimming  to  the 
Athenian  fleet,  as  his  soldiers  did;  but  from  a  mista- 
ken principle  of  glory,  he  thought  it  inconsistent  with 
the  dul}'  of  a  general  to  abandon  his  vessel  in  such  a 
manner,  and  preferred  a  death,  glorious  in  his  opinion, 
to  a  shameful  flight. 

This  first  attempt  having  miscarried,  both  sides  ap- 
plied themselves  vigorously  to  making  new  prepara- 
tions. The  Athenians  fitted  out  a  fleet  of  sixty  gal- 
leys, and  appointed  Chares  to  command  it,  and  armed 
sixty  more  under  Iphicrates  and  Timotheus.  The 
fleet  of  the  allies  consisted  of  100  sail.  After  having 
ravaged  several  islands  belonging  to  the  Athenians, 
where  they  made  a  great  booty,  they  undertook  the 
siege  of  Santos.  The  Athenians  on  their  side,  having 
united  all  their  forces,  besieged  Byzantium.  The 
allies  made  all  possible  haste  to  its  relief.  The  two 
fleets  being  in  view  of  each  other,  were  preparing  to 
fight,  when  suddenly  a  violent  storm  arose:  notwith- 
standing which.  Chares  resolved  to  advance  against 
the  enemy.  The  two  other  captains,  who  had  more 
orudence  and  experience  than  he,  thought  it  impro- 
per to  hazard  a  battle  in  such  a  conjuncture.  Chares, 
enraged  at  their  not  following  his' advice,  called  the 
soldiers  to  witness,  that  it  was  not  his  fault  they  did 
defeat  the  enemy.  He  was  naturally  vain,  ostenta- 
tious, and  self-conceited;  one  who  exaggerated  his 
own  services,  depreciated  those  of  others,  and  arro- 
gated to  himself  the  whole  glory  of  success.  He 
wrote  to  Athens  against  his  two  colleagues,  and  ac- 
cused them  of  cowardice  and  treason.  Upon  his 
complaint,  the  people,*  capricious,  warm,  suspicious, 
and  naturally  jealous  of  such  as  were  distinguished  by 
their  extraordinary  merit  or  authority,  recalled  those 
two  generals,  and  brought  them  to  a  trial. 

The  faction  ol  Chares,  which  was  verv  powerful  at 
Athens,  having  declared  against  Timotheus.  he  was 
sentenced  to  pay  a  fine  of  100  talents:'  a  worthy  re- 
ward for  the  noble  disinterestedness  he  had  shown 
upon  another  occasion,  in  bringing  home  to  his  coun- 
try 1'200  talents  arising  from  the  booty  taken  from  the 
enemx,«  without  reserving  any  part  for  himself!  He 
could  bear  no  longer  the  sight  of  an  ungrateful  city, 
and.  being  too  poor  to  pay  so  great  a  fine,  retired  to 
Chalcis.  After  his  death",  the  people,  touched  with 
repentance,  mitigated  the  fine  to  ten  talents  which 
they  made  his  son  Conon  pay  to  re-build  a  certain 
part  of  the  walls.  Thus,  by  an'event  sufficiently  odd, 
those  very  walls,  which  his  grandfather  had  rebuilt 
with  the  spoils  of  the  enemy,  the  grandson,  to  the 
shame  of  Athen«,  repaired  in  part  at  his  own  expense, 
[phirrate*  was  also  obliged  to  answer  for  him«elf 
before  the  judges  5  It  xvas  upon  this  occasion  thnt 
Arntophon,  another  Athenian  captain,  accused  him 

•  Diod.  I.  xvi.  p.  412.    Cor.  NVp.  in  Chab  c.  ir. 

•  Populn*  arcr,    §u«|>ieax,   mnbilix.   uHvf f^ariui,   inridui 
Miam  iMi'cniiir,  clnmum  revooat.     Cor.  JVVp. 

•  One  hundred  thousand  crown*. 

•  'J'w-  i\>-  nir.firi  n    houiond  crowns. 

•  Arist.  Rhvt.  I   ii.  c  23. 


of  having  betrayed  and  sold  the  fleet  under  liis  com 
mand.  Iphicrates,  with  the  confidence  which  an 
established  reputation  inspires,  asked  him,  "  Would 
you  have  committed  a  treason  of  this  nature?"  "  No," 
replied  Aristophon,  "  I  am  a  man  of  loo  much  honour 
for  such  an  action!"  "How!"  rt  plied  Iphicratc*, 
"could  Iphicrates  do  what  Aristophon  would  not  do?** 
vHe  did  not  employ  the  force  of  arguments  alone 
in  his  defence,  he  called  in  also  the  assistance  of 
arms.8  Instructed  by  his  colleague's  ill  sure, .,,  ha 
saw  plainly  that  it  was  more  necessary  to  intimidate 
than  convince  his  judges.  He  posted  round  the 
place  where  they  assembled  a  number  of  jounsf 
persons  armed  with  poniard?,  which  they  touk  care 
to  show  from  time  to  time.  They  could  not  resist  so 
forcible  and  triumphant  a  kind  of  eloquence,  and 
dismissed  him  with  an  acquittal.  AY  hen  he  was 
afterwards  reproached  with  so  violent  a  proceeeding; 
"I  should  have  been  a  fool  indeed.''  said  he,  "if, 
having  made  war  successfully  for  the  Athenians,  I 
bad  neglected  doing  so  for  myself." 

Chares,  by  the  recall  of  his  two  colleagues,  wa» 
left  sole  general  of  the  whole  army,  and  was  i:i  a 
condition  of  very  much  advancing  the  Athtnian 
atlairs  in  the  Hellespont,  if  he  had  known  how  to 
resist  the  magnificent  offers  of  Artabazus.  That 
viceroy,  who  hail  revolted  in  Asia  Minor  against  the 
king  of  Persia  his  master,  besieged  by  an  army  of 
70,000  men,  and  just  upon  the  point  ol  being  ruined 
from  the  inequality  of  his  forces,  corrupted  Chares. 
That  general,  who  had  no  thoughts  but  of  enriching 
himself,  marched  directly  to  the  assistance  of  Arta- 
bnius.  effectually  relieved  him,  and  received  a  reward 
suitable  to  the  service.  The  action  of  Chares  was 
treated  as  a  capital  crime.  He  had  not  only  aban- 
doned the  service  of  the  republic  for  a  foreign  war, 
but  had  moreover  offended  the  king  of  Persia,  who 
threatened  by  his  ambassadors  to  equip  JOO  sail  of 
ships  in  favour  of  the  islanders  who  were  united  in 
confederacy  agniiist  Athens  The  credit  of  Chares 
saved  him  again  upon  this  a»  it  had  done  several 
times  before  on  similar  occasions.  The  Athenians, 
intimidated  by  the  king's  menaces,  applied  themselves 
seriously  to  prevent  their  effects  by  a  general  peace 
Prior  to  these  menaces,  Isocrates  had  earnestly 
recommended  this  measure  to  them  in  a  fine  dis- 
course, which  is  still  extant,7  wherein  he  gives  them 
excellent  advice.  He  reproaches  them  with  great 
liberty,  as  does  Demosthenes  in  almost  all  his  orations, 
for  abandoning  themselves  blindly  to  the  insinuations 
of  the  orators  who  flatter  their  passion.*,  wliilsl  they 
treated  those  with  contempt  who  gave  them  the 
must  salutary  counsels.  He  applies  himself  particu- 
larly to  correct  in  them  their  violent  passion  for  th« 
augmentation  of  their  power  and  dominion  over  the 
people  of  Greece,  which  bad  been  the  source  of  all 
their  misfortunes.  He  recalls  to  their  remembrance 
those  happy  days,  so  glorious  for  Athens,  in  which 
their  ancestors,  out  of  a  noble  and  generous  dis- 
interested ness,  sacrificed  every  thing  fur  the  support 
of  the  common  liberty  and  the  preservation  of  Greece, 
and  compares  them  with  those  sad  times,  wherein  the 
ambition  of  Sparta,  and  afterwords  that  of  Athens, 
had  plunged  both  states  successively  intn  the  greatest 
misfortunes.  He  represents  to  them,  that  the  real 
and  lasting  greatness  of  a  state  does  not  consist  in 
augmenting  its  dominions,  or  extending  its  conquests 
to  the  utmost,  which  cannot  be  effected  uithntit  vio- 
lence and  injustice;  but  in  the  wise  goveinment  of 
the  people,  in  rendering  them  happy,  in  protecting 
their  allies,  in  being  beloved  and  esteemed  by  their 
neighbours,  and  feared  by  their  enemies.  "  A  state," 
<ays  he.  "cannot  fail  of  becoming  the  arbiter  of  al! 
its  neighbours,  when  it  knows  how  to  unite  in  all  its 
iix-a-iires  two  great  qualities,  justice  and  power,  which 
mutually  support  each  other,  and  ought  to  be  inse- 
parable. For  as  power,  not  regulated  by  the  motive* 
of  reason  and  justice,  has  recourse  to  the  most  vio- 
lent methods*  to  crush  and  subvert  whatever  oppose* 
it;  so  justice,  when  unarmed  and  without  power,  n 
exposed  to  injury,  and  is  incapable  of  dr finding 


*  Pol)  tn.  Strata;.  I.  iii. 


De  Pace  *eu  sociali* 


PERSIANS  AND  GRESIANS. 


4<13 


lt»e  i  or  protecting  others."  The  conclusion  drawn 
by  Isocrates  front  this  reasoning  is,  that  Athens,  if  it 
Would  be  happy,  and  in  tranquillity,  ought  to  confine 
ber  dominion  within  just  bounds,  not  to  affect  the 
empire  of  the  sea  for  the  sake  of  lording  it  over  all 
other  states;  but  to  conclude  a  |>ence,  whereby  every 
city  Hnd  people  should  lie  left  to  the  full  enjoyment 
of  their  liberty;  and  declare  herself  the  irreconcilable 
enemy  of  those  who  should  presume  to  disturb  that 
peace,  or  contravene  such  measures. 

The  peace  was  concluded  accord - 
A.  M.  3648.    ingly   under  «uch  conditions;  and   it 
Ant.  J.C.356.    was   stipulated   that   Rhodes,   Byzan- 
tium, Chios,  and  Cos,  should   enjoy 
entire  liberty.     The  war  of  the  allies  ended  in  this 
Dianrter,  after  having  continued  three  years. 

SECTION  III. — DEMOSTHENES  ENCOURAGES  THE 
ATHENIANS,  ALARMED  BY  THE  PREPARATIONS 
MADE  BY  ARTAXERXES  FOR  WAR.  HE  HARANGUES 
THEM  IX  FAVOUR  OF  THE  MEGAI.OPOL1TANS,  AND 
AFTERWARDS  OF  THE  RHODIANS.  DEATH  OF 
MAUSOLUS.  EXTRAORDINARY  GRIEF  OF  ARTE- 
MISIA, HIS  WIFE. 

THIS  peace  did  not  entirely  remove  the  appre- 
hension of  the  Athenians  with  regard  to  the  king  of 
Persia.  The  great  preparations  he  was  making  gave 
them  umbrage;  and  they  were  afraid  so  formidable 
an  armament  was  intended  against  Greece,  and  that 
Egypt  was  only  a  plausible  pretext  with  which  the 
king  covered  his  real  design. 

Athens  took  the  alarm  upon  this 
A.M.  3649.  rumour.  The  orators  increased  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  355.  fears  of  the  people  by  their  dis- 
courses, and  exhorted  them  to  have 
immediate  recourse  to  arms,  to  prevent  the  king  of 
Persia,  by  a  previous  declaration  of  war,  and  to  make 
a  league  with  all  the  states  of  Greece  against  the 
common  enemy.  Demosthenes  made  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  public  at  this  time,  and  mounted  the 
tribunal  to  give  his  opinion.  He  was  twenty-eight 
Tears  of  age.  (I  shall  speak  more  extensively  of  him 
ihortly.)  Upon  the  present  occasion,  more  wise  than 
those  precipitate  orators,  and  having  undoubtedly  in 
view  the  procuring  to  the  republic  the  aid  of  the 
Persians  against  Philip,  he  dared  not  indeed  oppose 
in  a  direct  manner  the  proposals  that  had  been  made, 
lest  he  should  render  himself  suspected ;  but  admit- 
ting as  a  principle  from  the  first,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  consider  the  king  of  Persia  as  the  eternal 
enemy  of  Greece,  he  represented  that  it  was  not 
consistent  with  prudence,  in  nn  j»ffair  of  such  great 
consequence,  to  precipitate  any  thing;  that  it  was 
very  improper,  by  a  resolution  taken  upon  light  and 
uncertain  reports,  and  by  a  premature  declaration  of 
war,  to  furnish  so  powe:  lul  a  prince  with  a  just  reason 
to  turn  his  arms  againsi  Greece;  that  all  which  was 
necessary  at  present,  was  to  fit  out  a  fleet  of  300  sail 
(and  he  entered  into  a  copious  detail  of  the  means 
by  which  this  was  to  be  effected,)'  and  to  hold  the 
troops  in  readiness,  to  enable  them  to  make  an 
effectual  and  vigorous  defence  in  case  of  being 
attacked;  that  by  so  doing,  all  the  people  of  Greece, 
without  farther  invitation,  would  be  sufficiently 
warned  by  the  common  danger  to  join  them;  and 
that  the  report  alone  of  such  an  armament  would  he 
enough  to  induce  the  king  of  Persia  to  change  his 
measures,  admitting  that  he  should  have  formed  any 
designs  against  Greece. 

For  the  rest,  he  \vat  not  of  opinion  that  it  was 
Beces«ary  to  levy  any  immediate  tax  upon  the  estates 
of  private  persons,  in  order  to  provide  for  the  ex 
pense  of  this  wiir,  which  would  not  amount  to  a  great 
Mini,  nor  suffice  for  the  occasion.  "  It  is  better," 
laid  he,  "  to  relv  upon  the  zeal  and  generositv  of  the 
citizens.  Our  city  may  be  said  to  be  alone  almost  as 
rich  as  all  the  other  cities  of  Greece  together.  (He 
tad  before  observed,,  that  the  estimate  of  the  lands 
of  Attica  amounted  to  6000  talents,  about  850.000/. 
•terling.)  When  we  shall  see  the  danger  to  be  real 


<  I  reserve  this  HIT  he  me  for  the  seventh  tfcliun.  M  it  ii 
•ather  curioi'H,  and  very  proper  to  explain  in  what  manner 
be  Athenians  fi'ted  out,  and  maintained  their  fleet*. 


and  imminent,  every  body  will  be  ready  tc  contr.buU 
cheerfully  to  the  expenses  of  the  war;  a»  none  can 
be  so  void  of  reason,  as  to  prefer  the  hazard  of  losing 
their  whole  estate  with  their  liberty,  to  sacrificing  a 
small  part  of  it  in  order  to  preserve  themselves  and 
their  country. 

"  And  we  ought  not  to  fear,  as  some  people  would 
insinuate,  that  the  great  riches  of  the  king  of  Persia 
enable  him  to  raise  a  great  body  of  auxiliaries,  which 
will  render  his  army  formidable.  Our  Greeks,  when 
they  are  to  inarch  against  Egypt,  or  Oronles  and  the 
other  barbarians,  serve  willingly  under  the  Persians; 
b  it  none  of  them,  1  dare  affirm,  not  a  single  man  of 
them,  will  ever  resolve  to  bear  arms  against  Greece.' 
This  discourse  had  its  full  effect.  The  refined  and 
delicate  address  of  the  orator,  in  adding  the  imposi- 
tion of  a  tax  to  be  deferred,  and  artfully  giving  rep.son 
to  suppose  at  the  same  time  that  it  would  tall  only 
upon  the  rich,  whose  zeal  he  commended,  was  well 
calculated  to  render  abortive  an  affair  which  had  no 
other  foundation  than  in  the  overheated  imagina 
tions  of  some  orators,  who  were  perhaps  interested 
in  the  war  they  advised. 

Two  years  afttr,8  an  enterprise  of 
the  Lacedaemonians  against  Mega-  A.  M.  3651. 
lopolis,  a  city  of  Arcadia,  gave  De-  Ant.  J.  C.  353. 
mosthenes  another  opportunity  of 
signalizing  his  zeal  end  displaying  his  eloquence. 
That  city,  which  had  been  lately  established  by  the 
Arcadians,  who  had  settled  a  numerous  colony  there 
from  different  cities,  and  which  might  serve  a«  a 
fortress  and  bulwark  against  Sparta,  gave  the  Lacedae- 
monians great  uneasiness,  and  alarmed  them  ex- 
tremely. They  resolved,  therefore,  to  attack  and 
make  themselves  masters  of  it.  The  Megalopolitans. 
who  probably  had  renounced  their  alliance  with 
Thebes,  had  recourse  to  Athens,  and  implored  its 
protection.  The  other  states  concerned  gent  also 
their  deputies  thither,  and  the  affair  wag  debated 
before  the  people. 

Demosthenes  first  assigns,8  as  the  basis  of  his  dis- 
course, this  principle;  that  it  was  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  prevent  either  Sparta  or  Thebea  from 
growing  too  powerful,  and  from  being  in  a  condition 
to  give  law  to  the  rest  of  Greece.  For  this  purpose 
it  wag  requisite  to  balance  their  power,  and  maintain 
always  an  exact  equilibrium  between  them.  Now  it 
is  evident,  that  if  we  abandon  Megalopolis  to  the 
Lacedaemonians,  they  will  soon  make  themselves 
masters  of  Messene  also,  two  strong  neighbouring 
cities,  which  are  a  check  upon  Sparta,  and  keep  it 
within  due  bounds.  The  alliance  we  shall  make  with 
the  Arcadians,  in  declaring  for  Megalopolis,  is  there- 
fore the  most  certain  means  to  preserve  so  necessary 
a  balance  between  Sparta  and  Thebes;  because 
whatever  happens,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  will 
be  able  to  hurt  us,  whilst  the  Arcadians  are  our 
allies,  whose  forces,  in  conjunction  with  ours,  will 
always  be  superior  to  those  of  either  of  the  two 
other  states. 

A  weighty  objection  to  this  advice  of  Demosthenea 
was  the  alliance  actually  subsisting  between  Athens 
and  Sparta.  For,  in  fine,  said  the  orators  who 
opposed  Demosthenes,  what  idea  will  the  world  have 
of  Athens,  if  we  change  thus  with  the  times?  or  is  it 
consistent  with  justice  to  pay  no  regard  to  the  faith 
of  treaties?  "We.  ought,"  replied  Demosthenes, 
whose  very  words  I  shall  repeat  in  this  place,  "we 
ought  indeed  always  to  have  justice  in  view.*  and  to 
make  it  the  rule  of  our  conduct;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  our  conformity  to  it  should  be  connected  with 
the  public  good  and"  the  interest  of  the  state.  It  !IH« 
been  a  perpetual  maxim  with  us  to  assist  the  oppress- 
ed." He  cites  the  Lacedaemonians  themselves,  the 
Thebans,  and  Euboeans,  as  examples.  "We  have 
never  varied  from  this  principle.  The  reproach  of 
changing,  therefore,  ought  not  to  fall  upon  u»,  but 
upon  those  who«e  injustice  and  usurpation  oblige  us 
to  declare  against  them." 

I    admire    the   lang-nnsr    of  politicians.     To   hear 


•   IMml.  1.  XV.  p.  401. 


•  Dt-mofl.  Oral,  pro  Mf-pakip. 

»i   TfxTtliv  T»  t/xaix'  J-Vftwmfl 
IcTMJ   TftVTA 


JK 


194 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


them  talk,  it  is  always  reasc  n  and  the  strictest  justice 
that  determine  them:  but  to  see  them  act,  makes  it 
evident  that  interest  and  ambition  are  the  sole  rule 
and  guide  of  their  conduct.  This  language  is  an 
ertf-ct  and  remnant  of  that  regard  lor  justice  which 
nature  has  implanted  in  the  minds  of  all  men,  and 
which  they  cannot  entirely  shake  oft'.  There  are 
few  who  venture  to  declare  against  that  internal 
principle  in  their  expressions,  or  to  contradict  it 
openly.  But  there  are  also  few,  who  observe  it  with 
fidelity  and  constancy  in  their  actions.  Greece  never 
was  known  to  have  more  treaties  of  alliance  than  at 
the  time  we  are  now  speaking  of,  nor  were  they  ever 
le«s  regarded.  This  contempt  of  the  religion  of 
oaths  in  states  is  a  proof  of  their  decline,  and  often 
enotes  and  occasions  thrir  approaching  ruin. 

The  Athenians,'  moved  by  the  eloquent  discourse 
of  Demosthenes,  sent  3000  foot  and  300  horse  to  the 
aid  of  the  Megalopolitans,  under  the  command  of 
Pammenes.*  Megalopolis  was  reinstated  in  its  former 
condition,  and  its  inhabitants,  who  had  retired  into 
their  own  countries,  were  obliged  to  return. 

The  peace,  which  had  put  an  end  to  the  war  of  the 
allies,  did  not  procure  for  all  of  them  the  tranquillity 
they  had  reason  to  expect  from  it.  The  people  of 
Rhodes  and  Cos,  who  had  been  declared  free  by  that 
treaty,  only  changed  their  master.  Mausolus,  king 
of  Caria,  who  had  assisted  them  in  throwing  oft'  the 
Athenian  yoke,  imposed  his  own  upon  them.  Having 
publicly  declared  himself  for  the  rich  and  powerful,  he 
enslaved  the  people,  and  made  them  suffer  exceedingly. 
He  died  the  second  year  after  the 

A.  M.  3650.  treaty  of  peace,  having  reigned  twen- 
Ant.J.  C.  554.  ty-four  years.  Artemisia  his  wife 
succeeded  him;3  and  as  she  was  sup- 
ported with  all  the  influence  of  the  king  of  Persia, 
she  retained  her  power  in  the  isles  lately  subjected. 

In  speaking  here  of  Artemisia,  it  is  proper  to 
observe,  that  she  must  not  be  confounded  with 
another  Artemisia,  who  lived  above  130  years  before, 
in  the  time  of  Xerxes,  and  who  distinguished  herself 
so  much  by  her  resolution  and  prudence  in  the  naval 
battle  of  balamis.  Several  celebrated  writers  have 
fallen  into  this  error  through  inadvertency. 

This  princess  immortalized  herself  by  the  honours 
which  she  paid  to  the  memory  of  Mausolus  her  hus- 
band.* She  caused  a  magnificent  monument  to  be 
erected  for  him  in  Halicarnassus,  which  was  called 
the  Jfansolcenm,  and  lor  its  beautv  was  esteemed  one 
of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world,  and  has  caused 
the  name  of  Jtfatitoleewn  to  be  given  to  all  great  and 
magnificent  structures  of  the  same  kind. 

She  endeavoured  also  to  eternize  the  name  of 
Mausolus  by  other  monument?,5  which  she  believed 
more  durable  than  those  of  brass  or  marble,  but, 
which  are  often  no  better  proof  against  the  injuries 
of  time; — I  mean  the  productions  of  the  mind.  She 
caused  excellent  panegyrics  to  be  made  in  honour  of 
her  husband,  and  proposed  a  prize  of  great  value  for 
the  person  whose  performance  should  be  the  best. 
Amongst  many  others,  the  celebrated  Isocrates,  and 
Theopompus  ni»  disciple,  were  competitors  for  it. 

Theopompus  carried  it  from  them  all,  and  had  the 
weakness  and  vanity  to  boast  in  public  of  having 
gained  the  prire  against  his  master;  preferring,  as  is 
too  common,  the  reputation  of  fine  parts  to  that  of  a 
pood  heart.  He  had  represented  Mausolus  in  his 
history  as  a  prince  most  sordidly  avaricious,  who 
thought  all  means  of  amassing  treasure  legitimate. 
He  painted  him,  without  doubt,  in  very  different 
colours  in  his  panegyric,  or  else  he  would  never  have 
pleased  the  princess. 

That  illustrious  widow  prepared  a  different  tomb 
for  Mausolus,  from  that  I  have  been  speaking  of.6 
Having  gathered  his  ashes,  and  caused  the  bones  to 
be  beaten  in  a  mortar,  she  mingled  some  of  the 
powder  every  day  in  her  drink,  till  she  had  drunk  it 


t  Diod.  1.  xv.  p.  402. 

•  This  is  not  the  Pammenei  of  Thebci,  of  whom  mention 
km  been  made  before. 

•  Diod.  I.  XTI.  p.  4:15.  «  Plin.  I.  xxxvi  c.  5. 

•  Aul.  Gel.  I.  x.  c.  18.    Plut.  in  Ifocrat   p.  838. 

•  Cio.  Tuic  Quest.  1.  iii.  n.  75.    Val.  Max.  1.  iv.  c.  6. 


all  off;  desiring  by  that  means  to  make  ner  own  body 
the  sepulchre  of  her  husband.  She  survived  him  only 
two  years,  and  her  grief  did  not  end  but  with  her  life 

Instead  of  the  tears  in  which  most  writers  plunge 
Artemisia  during  her  widowhood,  there  arc  some 
who  say  she  made  very  considerable  conquests.  It 
appears  by  one  of  Demosthenes's  orations,"  that  she 
was  not  considered  at  Athens  as  a  forlorn  relict,  who 
neglected  the  affair-,  of  her  kingdom.  But  we  have 
something  more  decisive  upon  this  head.  Vitruviua 
tells  us,8  that  after  the  death  of  Mausolus,  the 
Rhodians,  indignant  that  a  woman  should  reign  iu 
Caria,  undertook  to  dethrone  her.  They  left  Rhode* 
for  that  purpose  with  their  fleet,  and  entered  the 
great  port  of  Halicarnassus.  The  queen  being  in- 
formed of  their  design,  had  given  the  inhabitant! 
orders  to  appear  upon  the  walls,  and  when  the  enemy- 
should  arrive,  to  express  by  shouts  and  clapping  of 
hands  their  readiness  to  surrender  the  city  to  them. 
The  Rhodians  quitted  their  ships,  and  went  in  all 
haste  to  the  place,  leaving  their  fleet  without  any  to 
guard  it.  In  the  mean  time,  Artemisia  came  out 
with  her  galleys  from  the  little  port,  through  a  small 
canal  which  she  had  caused  to  be  cut  on  purpose, 
entered  the  great  port,  seized  the  enemy's  fleet, 
which  was  incapable  of  making  any  resistance,  and 
having  put  her  soldiers  and  mariners  on  board  of  it, 
she  set  sail.  The  Rhodians  having  no  menus  of 
escaping,  were  all  put  to  the  sword.  The  queen  in 
the  meantime  advanced  towards  Rhodes.  When  the 
inhabitants  saw  their  vessels  approach,  adorned  with 
wreaths  of  laurel,  they  raised  great  shouts,  and  re- 
ceived, with  extraordinary  marks  of  joy,  their 
victorious  and  triumphant  fleet.  It  was  so  in  fact 
but  in  another  sense  than  they  imagined.  Artemisia, 
having  met  with  no  resistance,  took  possession  of  the 
city,  and  put  the  principal  inhabitants  to  death.  She 
caused  a  trophy  of  her  victory  to  be  erected  in  it,  and 
set  up  two  statues  of  brass;  one  of  which  rt-pre- 
sentec!  the  city  of  Rhodes,  and  the  other  Artemisia 
branding  it  with  a  hot  iron.  Vitruvius  adds,  that 
the  Rhodians  dared  never  demolish  that  trophy,  their 
religion  forbidding  it;  but  they  surrounded  it  with  a 
building  which  entirely  prevented  it  from  being  seen. 

All  this,  as  Bayle  observes  in  his  Dictionary,  iloet 
not  indicate  a  forlorn  and  inconsolable  widow,  that 
passed  her  whole  time  in  grief  and  lamentation; 
which  makes  it  reasonable  to  suspect,  that  all  the 
marvellous  reports  of  the  sorrow  of  Artemisia,  may 
have  no  other  foundation  than  being  advanced  at  a 
venture  by  some  writer  and  afterwards  copied  by 
all  the  rest. 

I  should  be  better  pleased,  for  the  honour  of  Arte- 
misia, if  it  had  been  said,  as  there  is  nothing  incredi- 
ble in  it,  that  by  a  fortitude  and  greatness  of  mind, 
of  which  her  sex  affords  many  examples,  she  knew 
how  to  unite  the  severe  affliction  of  the  widow  with 
the  active  courage  of  the  queen  and  made  the  affairs 
of  her  government  serve  ner  instead  of  consolation. 
JVeg-o/fn  pro  3olatii3  accipiens.9 

The  Rhodians  b*ing  treated  by 
Artemisia  in  the  manner  we  have  A,  M.  3653. 
related,10  and  unable  to  support  any  Ant.  J.  C.  351. 
longer  so  severe  and  shameful  a  servi- 
tude, had  recourse  to  the  Athenians,  and  implored 
their  protection.  Though  they  had  rendered  them- 
selves entirely  unworthy  of  it  by  their  revolt  Demos- 
thenes notwithstanding  took  upon  him  to  speak  to 
the  people  in  their  behalf.  He  began  with  setting 
forth  their  crime  in  its  full  light;  he  aggravated 
their  injustice  and  perfidy:  he  seemed  to  enter  into 
the  people's  just  sentiments  of  resentment  and  indig- 
nation, and  it  might  have  been  thought  he  was  going 
to  declare  in  the  strongest  terms  against  the  Rhodians: 
but  all  this  was  only  an  artifice  of  the  orator,  to  in- 
sinuate himself  into  his  auditors'  good  opinion,  and 
to  excite  in  them  quite  contrary  sentiments  of  mild- 
ness and  compassion  for  a  people,  who  acknowledged 
their  fault,  who  confessed  their  unworthiness,  and 
who  nevertheless  were  come  to  implore  the  repub 

i  P.  mewl,  de  Libertat.  Rhod.  p.  145. 

•  Viiruv.  de  Architect.  I.  ii.  c.  8. 

•  Tacit.  >•  Demon,  oe  Libert  Rhod 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


405 


lie's  protection.  He  sets  before  them  the  grand 
maxims,  which  ID  all  ages  had  constituted  the  glory 
of  Athens;  ol  the  forgiving  of  injuries,  the  pardoning 
of  rtbeU,  and  the  taking  upon  them  the  defence  of 
the  unfortunate.  To  the  motives  of  glory,  he  an- 
nexes those  of  interest:  in  showing  the  importance 
ol  declaring  for  a  city  that  favoured  ttie  deiuoc.-atic 
form  ol  go\  eminent,  and  of  not  abandoning  nn  island 
BO  powerful  as  that  of  Rhodes.  This  is  the  substance 
of  Demosthenes's  discourse,  entitled,  For  the  liberty 
of  the  RltuJiatis. 

The  death  of  Artemisia,1  which  happened  the  same 
year,  it  is  very  likely,  re-established  the  Rhodians  in 
their  liberty.  She  was  succeeded  by  her  brothtr 
Idnaeus.  who  espoused  his  own  sister  Ada,  as  Mauso- 
lus  had  Artemisia.  It  was  the  custom  in  Caria  for 
the  kin^s  to  marry  their  sisters  in  this  manner,  and 
for  the  widows  to  succeed  their  husbands  in  the  throne 
in  preference  to  the  brothers,  and  even  the  children 
of  the  defunct. 

SECTFO  X  IV'.— SUCCESSFUL  EXPEDITION  OF  OCHUS 

AGAINST    PHOENICIA    AND    CYPRUS,    AND   AFTER- 
WARDS AGAINST  EGYPT. 

OCHUS  meditated  in  earnest  the  re- 
A.M.  3653.  duction  of  Egypt  to  its  allegiance, 
Ant.  J.  C.  351.  which  had  long  pretended  to  maintain 
itself  in  independence.  Whilst  he 
was  making  great  prepaiations  for  this  important  ex- 
pedition, he  received  advice  of  the  revolt  of  Phoenicia. 
That  people,*  oppressed  by  the  Persian  governors,  re- 
tolved  to  throw  off  so  heavy  a  yoke,  and  made  a  league 
with  Neotanebus  kingof  Egypt,  against  whom  Persia 
was  marching:  its  armies.  As  there  was  no  other  pas- 
sage fur  that  invasion  but  through  Phoenicia,  this  re- 
volt was  verv  seasonable  for  Nectanebus,  who  there- 
fore sent  Mentor  the  Rhodian  to  support  the  rebels, 
with  -4000  Grecian  troops.'  He  intended  by  that 
means  to  make  Phoenicia  ins  barrier,  and  to  stop  the 
Persians  there.  The  Phoenicians  took  the  6eld  with 
that  reinforcement,  beat  the  governors  of  Syria  and 
Cilicia  that  had  been  sent  against  them,  and  drove 
the  Persians  entirely  out  of  Phoenicia. 

The  Cypriote,3  who  were  not  better  treated  than 
the  Phoenicians,  seeing  the  good  success  which  had 
attended  this  revolt,  followed  their  example,  and 
joined  in  their  league  with  Egypt.  Ochus  sent  or- 
ders to  I'Jriaeus.  king  of  Caria,  to  make  war  against 
them:  who  immediately  fitted  out  a  fleet,  and  sent 
8000  Greeks  along  with  it,  under  the  command  of 
Phocion  the  Athenian,  and  Evagorms,  who  is  believed 
to  be  the  son  of  Xicocles.  It  is  probable  that  he  had 
been  expelled  by  his  uncle  Protagoras,  and  that  he 
had  embraced  with  pleasure  this  opportunity  of  re- 
ascending  the  throne.  His  knowledge  of  the  country, 
and  the  party  he  still  had  there,  might  make  the  king 
of  Persia  choose  him  very  judiciously  to  command  in 
this  expedition.  They  made  a  descent  in  the  island, 
where  their  army  increased  to  double  it*  number  by 
the  reinforcements  which  came  from  Syria  and  Cili- 
cia. The  hopes  of  enriching  themselves  by  the  spoils 
of  thi«  island,  that  was  very  rich,  drew  thither  abun- 
dance of  troops,  and  they  formed  the  siege  of  Salamis 
by  sea  and  land.  The  island  of  Cyprus  had  at  that 
time  nine  cities,  so  considerable  as  to  have  each  of 
them  a  |>etty  king.  But  all  those  kings  were,  how- 
ever, subjects  of  Persia.  They  had  upon  this  occa- 
sion united  together  to  throw  off  that  yoke,  and  to 
render  themselves  independent. 

Ochus,  having  observed  that  the  Egyptian  wars 
had  always  been  unsuccessful  from  the  ill  conduct  of 
the  generals  sent  thither,  resolved  to  take  the  com- 
mand in  person.  But  before  he  set  out,  he  signified 
his  desiie  to  the  state*  of  Greece,  that  they  would 
put  an  end  to  their  divisions,  and  cease  to  make  war 
jpon  one  another. 

It  is  a  just  matter  of  surprise  that  the  court  of  Per- 
na  should  insist  so  earnestly  and  so  often,  that  the 
people  of  Greece  should  live  in  tranquillity  with  each 
other,  and  observe  inviolably  the  article*  of  the  treaty 


i  Strab.   .  xiv.  p.  556. 
•  Uio4.  1  «ri.  p.  439. 


•  Ibid.  p.  440,  441. 


of  Antalcidas,  the  principal  end  of  which  was  the 
establishment  of  a  lasting  union  amongst  them.  It 
had  formerly  employed  a  quite  different  polity. 

Ever  since  the  miscarriage  of  the  enterprise  against 
Greece  under  Xerxes,  judging- gold  and  silver  a  more 
proper  means  for  subjecting  it  than  that  of  the  -word, 
the  Persians  did  not  attack  it  with  open  force,  oat 
by  the  method  of  secret  intrigues.  They  conveyed 
considerable  sums  into  it  privately,  to  corrupt  those 
who  had  most  influence  and  authority  in  the  grtat 
cities,  and  were  perpetually  watching  occasions  to 
arm  them  against  each  other,  and  to  deprive  them  of 
the  leisure  and  means  of  invading  themselves.  They 
were  particularly  careful  to  declare  sometimes  for  one, 
sometimes  for  another,  in  order  to  support  a  kind  of 
balance  amongst  them,  which  put  it  out  of  the  power 
of  any  of  those  republics  to  aggrandize  itself  too  much, 
and  by  that  ;neans  to  become  formidable  to  Persia. 

That  nation  employed  a  quite  different  conduct  at 
this  time,  in  prohibiting  all  wars  to  the  people  of 
Greece,  and  commanding  them  toobservea  universal 
peace,  upon  pr.in  of  incurring  their  displeasure  and 
arms,  against  such  as  should  disobey.  Persia,  with- 
out doubt,  did  not  take  that  resolution  at  a  venture, 
arid  had  its  reasons  for  behaving  in  such  a  manner 
towards  Greece. 

Its  design  n.ightbe  to  soften  their  spirit  by  decrees, 
by  disar::::ng  their  hands;  to  blunt  the  edge  ol*  that 
valour  which  spurred  them  on  perpetually  by  noble 
emulation;  to  extinguish  in  them  their  pa«sion  for 
glory  and  victory;  to  render  languid,  by  long  inac- 
tion and  forced  ease,  the  activity  natural  to  them; 
end,  in  fine,  to  bring  them  into  the  number  of  those 
nations,  whom  a  quiet  and  effeminate  life  enervates, 
and  who  lose  in  sloth  and  peace  that  martial  ardour 
which  combats  and  even  dangers  are  apt  to  inspire. 

The  king  of  Persia  who  then  reigned,  had  a  per- 
sonal interest,  as  well  as  his  predecessor,  in  imposing 
these  terms  upon  the  Greeks.  Egypt  had  long  thrown 
oft"  the  yoke,  and  given  the  empire  just  cause  of  in- 
quietude. Ochus  had  resolved  to  go  in  person  to 
reduce  the  rebels.  He  had  the  expedition  extreme- 
ly at  heart, ami  neglected  nothing  that  could  promote 
its  success.  The  famous  retreat  of  the  10,000.  with- 
out enumerating:  many  other  actions  of  a  like  nature, 
had  left  a  great  idea  in  Persia  of  the  Grecian  valour. 
That  prince  relied  more  upon  a  small  body  of  Greeks 
in  his  pay,  than  upon  the  whole  army  of  the  Persians, 
numerous  as  it  was;  and  he  well  knew,  that  the  in- 
testine divisions  of  Greece  would  render  the  cities 
incajmole  of  supplying  the  number  of  soldiers  he  had 
occasion  for. 

In  fine,  as  a  good  politician,  he  could  not  enter  upon 
action  in  Egypt,  till  he  had  pacified  all  behind  him 
Ionia  especially,  and  the  neiehbonring  provinces 
Xow,  the  most  certain  means  to  hold  them  in  obedi- 
ence, was  to  deprive  them  of  all  hope  of  aid  from  the 
Greeks,  to  whom  they  had  always  recourse  in  times 
of  revolt,  and  without  whom  they  were  in  no  condi- 
tion to  form  any  great  enterprises.* 

When  Orhus  had  taken  all  his  measures, and  made 
the  necessary  preparations,  he  repaired  to  the  fron- 
tiers of  Phoenicia,  where  he  found  an  army  of  300, 
000  foot  and  30,000  horse,  and  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  it.  Mentor  was  at  Sidon  with  the  Grecian  troopt 
The  approach  of  so  great  an  army  staggered  him,  and 
he  sent  secretly  to  Ochus  to  make  him  offers  not  only 
of  surrendering  Sidon  to  him,  but  to  serve  him  in 
Rsrypt.  where  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  coun- 
try, and  might  be  very  useful  to  him.  Ochus  agreed 
entirely  to  the  proposals,  upon  which  he  engaged 
Tennes  king  of  Sidon  in  the  snme  treason,  and  they 
in  concert  surrendered  the  place  to  Ochus. 

The  Sidonians  had  set  fire  to  their  ship*  upon  th« 
approach  of  the  king's  troops,  in  orderto  lny  the  peo- 
ple under  the  necessity  of  making  a  pood  defence,  by 
removing  all  other  hope  of  security.  When  they  saw 
themselves  betrayed,  that  the  enemy  were  masters  of 
the  city, and  that  there  was  no  possibility  01  r-*nping 
either  by  sea  or  land,  in  despair  they  shut  themselve* 
up  in  their  houses,  and  set  them  on  fire.  Forty  thou- 

*  Died.  1.  ivi.  p  441  -44& 


490 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


»»nd  men,  without  reckoning  women  and  children, 
perished  in  this  manner.  The  fate  of  Tennes  their 
LiiiK  was  no  better.  Ochus,  seeing  himself  master  of 
Suion,  and  having  no  further  occasion  for  him,  caused 
him  to  be  put  to  death;  a  just  reward  of  his  treason, 
and  an  evident  proof  that  Ochus  did  not  yield  to  him 
in  pel-tidy.  At  the  time  this  misfortune  happened, 
Sidon  wag  immensely  rich.  The  fire  having  melted 
the  gold  and  silver,  Ochus  sold  the  cinders  for  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money. 

The  dreadful  ruin  of  this  city  spread  so  great  ter- 
ror over  the  rest  of  Phoenicia,  that  it  submitted,  and 
obtained  conditions  reasonable  enough  from  the  king. 
Ochus  made  no  great  difficulty  in  complying  with 
their  demands,  because  he  was  unwilling  to  lose  the 
time  there  which  he  had  so  much  occasion  for  in  the 
xecution  of  his  projects  against  Egypt. 

Before  he  began  his  march  to  enter  that  country, 
he  was  joined  by  a  body  oi  lO.OOOGreeks.  From  the 
beginning  of  this  expedition  he  had  demanded  troops 
from  Greece.  The  Athenians  and  Lacedaemonians 
had  excused  themselves  from  furnishing  him  at  that 
time:  as  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  do  it,  however 
desirous  they  miiiht  be,  as  they  said,  to  maintain  a 
good  correspondence  with  the  king.  The  Thebans 
sent  him  1000  men  under  the  command  of  Lachares; 
the  Argives  3000  under  Nicostratus.  The  rest  came 
from  the  cities  of  Asia.  All  these  troops  joined  him 
•mmediately  after  the  taking  of  Sidon. 

The  Jews  must  have  had  some  share  in  this  war  of 
the  Phoenicians  against  Persia.1  For  Sidon  was  no 
sooner  taken  than  Ochus  entered  Judaea,  and  besieged 
the  city  of  Jerirho,  which  he  took.  Beside*  which 
it  appears  that  he  carried  a  great  number  of  Jewish 
captives  into  F.gypt,  and  sent  many  others  into  Hyr- 
cania,  where  he  settled  them  along  the  coast  of  the 
Caspian  sea. 

Ochus  also  put  an  end  to  the  war  with  Cyprus  at 
the  tame  time.*  That  of  Egypt  so  entirely  engrossed 
his  attention,  that  in  order  to  have  nothing  to  divert 
him  from  it,  he  was  satisfied  to  come  to  an  accommo- 
dation with  the  nine  kings  of  Cyprus,  who  submitted 
to  him  upon  certain  conditions,  ant!  were  all  conti- 
nued in  their  little  states.  Evagoras  demanded  to  be 
reinstated  in  the  kingdom  of  Salamis.  It  was  evident- 
ly proved,  that  he  had  committed  the  most  flagrant 
acts  of  injustice  during  his  reign,  and  that  he  had  not 
been  unjustly  dethroned.  Protagoras  was  therefore 
continued  in  the  kingdom  of  Salamis,  and  the  king 
gave  Evagoras  a  government  in  another  quarter.  He 
behaved  no  better  in  that,  and  was  again  expelled. 
He  afterwards  returned  to  Salamis,  and  was  seized 
and  put  to  death.  How  surprising  a  difference  be- 
tween Nicocles  and  his  son  Evagoras! 

After  the  reduction  of  the  isle  of  Cyprus  and  the 
province  of  Phoenicia,3  Ochus  advanced  at  length  to- 
wards Egypt. 

Upon  his  arrival,  he  encamped  before  Pelusium, 
from  whence  he  detached  three  bodies  of  his  loops, 
each  of  them  commanded  by  a  Greek  and  a  Persian, 
with  equal  authority.  The  first  was  under  Lachares 
the  Theban,  and  Rosaces,  governor  of  Lydia  and  Io- 
nia. The  second  was  given  toKicostratus  the  Argive, 
and  Aristaxanes,  one  of  the  great  officers  of  the 
crown.  The  third  had  Mentor  the  Rhodian,  and  Ba- 
goas  one  of  Ochus's  eunuchs,  at  the  head  of  it.  Each 
detachment  had  its  peculiar  order.  The  king  re- 
mained with  the  main  body  of  the  army  in  the  camp 
which  he  had  made  choice  o'f  at  first,  to  wait  the  event, 
and  to  be  ready  to  support  those  troops,  in  case  of  ill 
success,  nr  to  improve  the  advantages  they  might  gain. 

Nectanchus  had  long  expected  this  invasion,  the 
preparations  for  which  had  made  so  much  noise.  He 
had  100,000  men  on  foot,  20,000  of  whom  were  Greeks, 
20/KM)  Libyans,  and  the  rest  Egyptian  troops.  Part 
of  them  he  disposed  in  the  places  upon  the  frontiers, 
and  posted  himself  with  the  rest  in  the  passes,  to  dis- 
pute the  enemy's  entrance  into  Egypt. 

Ochus's  first  detachment  wa«  sent  against  Pelusinm, 
where  there  was  a  garrison  of  5000  Greeks.  Lachares 


i  Siilon.  e.  new.     Euseb.  in  Chron.  *<-. 

«  Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  443.  *  Died.  p.  444—450. 


besieged  the  place.  That  under  Nicostratus  going 
on  board  a  squadron  of  fourscore  ships  of  the  Pi.-rciai. 
Heel,  entered  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Nile  at  the 
same  time,  and  sailed  into  the  heart  of  Ejjypl,  where 
they  landed  and  fortified  themselves  w^  II  in  a  camp 
which  was  very  advantageously  situated.  All  ihe 
Egyptian  troops  in  these,  parts  were  immediately 
drawn  together  under  Clinias,  a  Greek  ol  the  isle  of 
Cos,  and  prepared  to  repel  the  enemy.  A  very  warm 
action  ensued,  in  which  Clinias  with  5000  of  his  troops 
were  killed,  and  the  rest  entirely  broken  and  dis- 
persed. 

This  action  decided  the  success  of  the  war.  Nec- 
tanebus, apprehending  that  Nicostratus  after  this  vic- 
tory would  embark  ngam  upon  the  iSilc,  and  tak« 
Memphis  the  capital  of  the  kingdom,  made  nil  the 
haste  he  could  to  defend  it,  and  abandoned  the  pas- 
ses, which  it  was  of  the  last  importance  to  secure,  to 
prevent  the  entranced"  theenemy.  When  tht  Greeks 
that  defended  Pelusium  were  apprised  of  this  precipi 
tate  retreat,  they  believed  all  was  lo?t,  and  capitulated 
with  Lachares,  upon  condition  of  being  sent  back  in- 
to Greece  with  ail  that  belonged  to  them,  anci  \\ith- 
out  suffering  any  injury  in  their  persons  or  effects. 

Mentor,  who  commanded  the  third  detachment, 
finding  the  passes  clear  and  unguarded,  entered  the 
country,  and  made  himself  master  of  it  without  any 
opposition.  For,  after  having  caused  a  report  to  !>e 
spread  throughout  his  camp,  that  Ochus  had  given 
orders  that  all  those  who  would  submit  should  be 
treated  with  favour,  and  that  such  as  made  resistance 
should  be  destroyed,  as  the  Sidonians  had  been;  he 
let  all  his  prisoners  escape,  that  they  might  carry  the 
news  into  the  country  round  about.  Those  poor 
people  reported  in  their  towns  and  villages  what  they 
lad  heard  in  the  enemy'?  camp.  The  brutality  of 
Ochus  «een>ed  to  confirm  it;  and  the  terror  was  so 
great,  that  the  garrisons,  as  well  Greeks  as  Egyptians, 
strove  which  should  be  the  foremost  in  making  their 
submission. 

Nectanebus,  having    lost  all   hope 
of  being  able  to  defend  himself,  es-         A.  M.3654. 
caped    with    his  treasures  and    most  Ant.  J.  C.  350. 
valuable  effects  into    Ethiopia,  from 
whence  he  never  returned.     He  was  the  last  king  of 
Egvpt  of  the  Egyptian  race,  since  whom  it  has  always 
continued    under  a  foreign  yoke,  according    to  th« 
prediction  of  Ezekiel.* 

Ochus,  having  entirely  conquered  Egypt  in  this 
manner,  dismantled  the  cities,  pillaged  the  temples, 
and  returned  in  triumph  to  Babylon,  laden  with  spoil*, 
and  especially  with  gold  and  silver,  of  which  he  carried 
awa\  immense  sums.  He  left  the  government  of  it  to 
Pherendales,  a  Persian  of  the  first  quality. 

Here  Manetho  finishes  his  commentaries,5  or  histo- 
ry of  Egypt.  He  was  a  priest  of  Heliopolis  in  that 
country,  and  had  written  the  history  of  its  different 
dynasties  from  the  commencement  of  the  nation  to 
the  times  we  now  treat  of.  His  work  is  often  cited 
by  Josephus,  Eusebius,  Plutarch.  Porphyry,  and  seve 
ral  others.  This  historian  lived  in  the  reign  of  I'tole- 
my  Philadelphus,  king  of  Egypt,  to  whom  he  dedi- 
cates his  work,  of  which  Syncellus6  has  preserved 
us  the  abridgment. 

Neclanebus  lost  the  crown  by  his  too  good  opinion 
of  himself.  He  had  been  placed  upon  the  throne  by 
Agesilaus,  and  afterwards  supported  in  it  by  the  va- 
lour and  prudence  of  Diophantes  the  Athenian,  and 
Lamiu*  the  Lacedaemonian,  who,  whiNt  they  had  the 
command  of  his  troops  and  the  direction  of  the  war, 
had  rendered  his  armies  victorious  over  the  Per-ians 
in  all  the  enterprises  they  had  formed  again«t  him. 
It  is  a  pily  we  have  no  detailed  account  of  them,  and 
that  Diod'orus  is  silent  upon  this  head.  That  prince 
vain  from  so  many  successes,  imagined,  in  conse 
quence,  that  he  was  become  sufficiently  capable  ot 
conducting  his  own  affairs  by  himself,  and  dismissed 
those  persons  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  all  those 


•  F/.-k.  xxix.14,  15. 

•  Syncel.  p.  256.     Yews  de  Hint.  Grec.  1.  i.  c.  14. 

•  Ofiirsf,  a  monk  of  Constantinople.  «n  railed  from  his  be 
in?  SynrelliM,  or  vimr  (o  the  patriarch  Tarasus,  towards  th* 
end  of  the  ninth  century. 


PERSIANS  AND  GRESIANS. 


497 


advantage".  He  had  time  enough  to  repent  hit  er- 
ror, uiid  to  discover  that  the  rank  does  not  confer  the 
qualifications  ot  a  king. 

Oc.hus  rewarded  very  liberally  the 

A.  M.  3655.  service  which  Mentor  the  Rhodian 
Ant.  J.  C.  3-49.  had  rendered  him  in  the  reduction  of 
Phoenicia  and  the  conquest  of  Egypt. 
Before  he  left  that  kingdom,  he  dismissed  the  other 
Greeks  laden  with  presents.  As  for  Mentor,  to  whom 
ihe  whole  success  of  the  expedition  was  principally 
owing;,  he  not  only  made  him  a  present  of  100  talents 
in  money,1  beside?  many  jewels  of  great  value,  but 
gave  him  the  government  of  all  the  coast  of  Asia, 
with  the  direction  of  the  war  against  some  provinces 
which  had  revolted  in  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  and 
derhited  him  generalissimo  of  al  his  armies  on  that 
tide. 

Mentor  made  use  of  his  interest  to  reconcile  the 
king  Kith  his  brother  Menmon,  and  Artabuzu-,  who 
had  married  their  sister.  Both  of  them  had  been  in 
arms  against  Ochus.  \Ve  have  already  related  the 
revolt  of  Artabazus,  and  the  victories  he  had  obtained 
over  the  king's  troops.  He  was,  however,  overpow- 
ered at  last,  and  reduced  to  take  refuge  with  Philip 
king  of  Macedon  ;  and  Menmon,  who  had  borne  a 
part  in  his  wars,  hud  also  a  share  in  his  banishment. 
Alter  this  reconciliation,  they  rendered  Orhus  and 
his  successors  signal  services;  especially  Menmon. 
who  was  one  of  the  most  valiant  men  of  his  time,  and 
of  the  greatest  skill  in  the  art  of  war.  Neither  did 
Mentor  belie  the  high  opinion  entertained  of  him,  nor 
deceive  the  king  in  the  confidence  he  had  reposed  in 
him.  For  he  had  scarce  taken  possession  of  his  go- 
vernment, when  he  re-establi«hed  every  where  the 
kind's  authority,  and  reduced  those  who  had  revolted 
in  his  neighbourhood  to  return  to  their  obedience; 
some  he  brought  over  by  his  address  and  stratagems, 
•  ml  others  by  force  of  arms.  In  a  word,  he  knew  so 
well  how  to  improve.  hi«  advantages,  that  at  length 
he  subjected  them  all  to  the  yoke,  and  reinstated  the 
king's  affairs  in  all  those  provinces. 

In  the  6m  year  of  the  108th  Olym- 

A.  M.  3656.  piad,  died  Plato,  the  famous  Atheni- 
Ant.J.  C.348.  an  philosopher. 

SECTION  V  —DEATH  OF  OCHUS.  ARSES  SUC- 
CEEDS HIM,  AND  IS  SUCCEEDED  BY  DARIUS  CODO- 
MANUS. 

Ornus.'  after  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  and  the  re- 
duction of  the  revolted  provinces  of  tiis  empire,  aban- 
doned himself  to  pleasure  and  luxurious  ease  during 
the  re*t  of  his  lift,  and  left  the  care  of  affairs  entirely 
to  his  ininUters.  The  two  principal  of  them  were 
the  eunuch  Bagoas,  and  Mentor  the  Rhodian,  who 
divided  all  power  between  them;  so  that  the  first  had 
•II  the  provinces  of  the  upper,  and  the  latter  all  those 
of  the  lower  A»ia  under  him. 

After  having  reigned  twenty-three 
A.  M.  3f68.  years,  Ochus  die;!  of  poison  given 
Ant.  J.  C.  ?38.  him  by  Bagoas.  That  eunuch,  who 
was  by  birth  an  Egyptian,  had  al- 
ways retairied  a  love  for  his  country,  and  a  real  for 
Its  religion.  When  his  master  conquered  it,  he  flat- 
tered li'iuijlf  that  it  would  be  in  hU  power  to  soften 
the  dertinw  of  the  one,  and  protect  the  other  from  in- 
wilt.  Bui  he  could  not  restrain  the  brutality  of  his 
prince,  wl  o  acted  a  thousand  things  in  regard  to  both, 
which  th*  eunuch  saw  with  extreme  sorrow,  and  al- 
Wavs  viol.'ntlv  resented  in  his  heart. 

Ochus,  not*  contented  with  having  dismantled  the 
cities  and  pillaged  the  houses  and  temples,  as  has  been 
iVul,  had  besides  taken  away  all  the  archives  of  the 
kingdom,  which  were  deposited  and  kept  with  reli- 
gious care  in  the  temples  of  t!'.e  Egyptians;  and  in 
derision  of  their  worship*  he  had  caused  the  god  Apis 
to  be  ki'.le.d.  that  is,  the  sacred  bull  which  they  adored 
under  that  name.  What  gave  occasion  for  this  last 
•ction  was,4  that  Ochus  being  as  laiy  and  heavy  as  he 
was  cruel,  the  Egyptians,  from  the  first  of  thosequali- 
l:e*.  had  eiven  him  the  in«ultinsr  surname  of  the  «tu- 


I  One  hundred  thousand  crowns. 

•  Diod.  I.  xvi.  p.  4!'0.  '  JJlito.  I.  IT  e.  8. 

•  PI  ul.  do  Uid.  et  Dsir.  p.  363. 
VOL.  I— «3 


pid  animal  whom  they  found  he  resembled.  Violent- 
ly enraged  at  this  afl'ronl,  Ochus  said  that  he  would 
make  them  sensible  that  he  was  not  an  ass  but  a  lion, 
and  that  the  ass,  which  they  despised  so  much,  should 
eat  their  ox.  Accordingly,  he  ordered  Apis  to  be 
dragged  out  of  his  temple,  and  sacrificed  to  an  as*. 
After  which  he  made  hi*  cooks  dress  and  serve  him  up 
to  the  officers  of  his  household.  This  piece  of  wit 
incensed  Bagoas.  As  for  the  archives  he  redeemed 
them  afterwards,  and  sent  them  bsick  to  the  places 
where  it  was  the  custom  to  keep  them ;  but  the  affront 
which  had  been  done  to  his  religion  was  irreparable; 
and  that,  it  is  believed,  was  the  real  occasion  of  hit 
master's  death. 

His  revenge  did  not  stop  there:*  he  caused  another 
body  to  be  interred  instead  of  the  king's;  and  to  re- 
venge his  having  made  the  officers  of  the  household 
eat  the  god  Apis,  he  made  cats  eat  his  dead  bodv, 
which  he  pave  them  cut  in  small  piece*:  and  as  for 
his  bones,  those  he  turned  into  handles  for  knives  and 
swords,  the  natural  symbols  of  his  cruelty.  It  is  vep« 
probable  that  some  new  cause  had  awakened  in  the 
heart  of  this  monster  his  ancient  resentment;  with- 
out which  it  is  not  to  be  conceived  that  he  could 
carry  his  barbarity  so  far  towards  his  master  and  be- 
nefactor. 

After  the  death  of  Ochus,  Bagoas,  in  whose  hands 
all  power  was  at  that  time,  placed  Arses  upon  the 
throne,  the  youngest  of  all  the  late  king's  sons,  and 
put  the  rest  to  death,  in  order  to  possess  with  better 
security,  and  without  a  rival,  the  authority  he  had 
usurped.  He  gave  Arses  only  the  name  of  king, 
whilst  he  reserved  to  himself  the  whole  power  of  the 
sovereignty.  But  perceiving  that  the  young  prince 
began  to  discover  his  wickedness,  and  was  taking  mea- 
sures to  punish  it,  he  prevented  him  by  having  him 
assassinated,  and  destroyed  his  whole  family  with 
him.  Arses  had  reigned  about  two  years. 

Bagoas,  after  having  rendered  the 
throne  vacant  by  the  murder  of  Ar-        A.  M.  3668. 
ses,  placed  Darius  upon  it,  the  third    Ant.J.  C.  U36. 
of  that  name  who  reigned   in   Persia. 
His  true  name  was  Codomanus:  of  him  much  will  be 
said  hereafter. 

We  see  here  clear! v  the  sad  effect  of  the  pernicious 
policy  of  the  kings  of"  Persia,  who,  to  ease  themselves 
of  the  weight  of  public  business,  abandoned  their 
whole  authority  to  a  eunuch.  Bagoas  might  have 
more  address  and  understanding  than  the  rest,  and 
thereby  merited  some  distinction.  It  is  the  duty  of 
a  wise  prince  to  distinguish  merit;  but  it  is  equally 
his  duty  to  continue  always  the  entire  master,  judge, 
and  arbiter  of  his  affairs.  A  prince  like  Ochus,  that 
had  made  the  greatest  crimes  serve  as  steps  for  as- 
cending the  throne,  and  who  had  supported  himself 
in  it  by  the  same  measures,  deserved  to  have  such  • 
minister  as  Bagoas,  who  vied  with  his  master  in  per- 
fidy and  cruelty.  Ochus  experienced  their  first  ef- 
fects. Had  he  desired  to  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
him,  he  should  not  have  been  so  imprudent  as  to 
render  him  formidable,  by  giving  him  an  unlimited 
power. 

SECTION   VI.— ABRIDGMENT  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  DE- 
MOSTHENES, TILL  THE  TIME  OF  HIS  APPEARANCE 
WITH  HONOUR  AND  APPLAUSE  IN  THE  PUBLIC  AS- 
SEMBLIES AGAINST  PHILIP  OF  MACEDON. 
As  Demosthenes  will   perform  a  conspicuous  part 
in  the  history  of  Philip  and  Alexander,  it  is  necessary 
to  give  the  reader  some  previous  idea  of  him,  and  to 
let  him   know   by  what  means  he   cultivated,  and  to 
what  a  degree  of  perfection  he  carried  his  talent  of 
eloquence;  which  made  him  more  formidable  to  Phi- 
lip and  Alexander,  and  enabled  him  to  render  greater 
services  to  his  country,  than  the  highest  military  va- 
lour could  have  clone. 

That  orator.6  born  two  rears  after 
Philip,?  ami  280   before  C"icero,  was        A.  M.  3623. 
not  the  son  of  a  dirty  smoky  black-    Ant.  J.  C.38L 
smith,  as  Juvenal  would  «eem  to  inti- 


•  ./Elian.  1.  ri.  r.  8. 

•  Plat,  in  Demo«t.  p.  847— W9. 

»    The  fourth  year  of  the  ninety-ninth  Olympiad 

Sal 


498 


HISTORY  OF  THL 


mate,  but  of  a  man  moderately  rich,  who  made  con- 
siderable profit  by  forges.  IS'ot  that  the  meanest  ex- 
traction could  derogate  in  the  least  from  the  reputa- 
tion ol  Demosthenes;  his  works  are  a  higher  title  of 
nobility  than  the  most  splendid  the  world  affords.  De- 
mosthenes tells  us  himself,*  that  his  father  employed 
thirty  slaves  at  his  forges,  each  of  them  valued  at 
three  minx,  or  fifty  crowns;  two  excepted,  who  were 
without  doubt  the  most  expert  in  the  business,  and 
directed  the  work,  and  those  were  each  of  them  worth 
100  crowni.  It  is  well  known  that  part  of  the  wealth 
of  the  ancients  consisted  in  slaves.  Those  forges,  al- 
ter all  charges  were  paid,  cleared  annually  thirty  mi- 
nae,  that  is,  1500  livres.  To  this  first  manufactory, 
appropriated  to  the  forging  of  swords  and  such  khid 
of  arms,  he  added  another,  wherein  beds  and  tables 
of  fine  wood  and  ivory  were  made,  which  brought 
him  in  yearly  twelve  mime.  In  this  only  twenty 
slaves  were  employed,  each  of  them  valued  at  two 
mmae,  or  100  livres.3 

Demosthenes's  father  died  possessed  of  an  estate  of 
fourteen  talents.*  His  son  at  that  time  was  only  se- 
ven years  of  age.  He  had  the  misfortune  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  sordid  and  avaricious  guardians,  who 
hid  no  views  but  of  making  the  most  out  of  his  for- 
tune. They  carried  that  base  spirit  so  far  as  to  refuse 
their  pupil's  masters  the  stipend  due  to  them:  so  that 
he  was  not  educated  with  the  care  which  so  excellent 
a  genius  as  his  required;  besides  which,  the  weak- 
ness of  his  constitution,  and  the  delicacy  of  his  health, 
in  conjunction  with  the  excessive  fondness  of  a  mother 
that  doated  upon  him,  prevented  his  masters  from 
obliging  him  to  apply  closely  to  his  studies. 

The  school  of  Isocrates,5  in  which  so  many  great 
men  had  been  educated,  was  at  that  time  the  most 
famous  at  Athens.  But  whether  the  avarice  of  Demos- 
thenes's guardians  prevented  him  from  improving  un- 
der a  master,  whose  price  was  very  high;'  or  that  the 
soft  and  placid  eloquence  of  Isocrates  was  not  to  his 
taste,  at  that  time  he  studied  under  Isaeus,  whose  cha- 
racteristic was  strength  and  vehemence.  He  found 
means  however,  to  get  the  principles  of  rhetoric  taught 
by  the  former:  but  Plato7  in  reality  contributed  the 
most  to  form  Demosthenes;  he  read  his  works  with 
great  application,  and  even  received  lessons  from  him; 
and  it  is  easy  to  distinguish  in  the  writings  of  the  dis- 
ciple, the  noble  and  sublime  air  of  me  master. 

But  he  soon  quitted  the  schools  of  I»a»us  and  Plato 
for  another;8  I  mean  to  frequent  the  bar;  of  which 
this  was  the  occasion.  The  orator  Callistratus  was 
appointed  to  plead  in  a  full  assembly  the  cause  of  the 
city  of  Oropus,  situated  between  Bceotia  and  Attica. 
Chabrias,  having  disposed  the  Athenians  to  march  to 
the  aid  of  the  Thebans,  who  were  in  great  distress, 
they  hastened  thither,  and  delivered  them  from  the 
enemy.  The  Thebans,  forgetting  so  great  a  service, 
took  the  town  of  Oropus,  which  was  upon  their  fron- 
tier, from  the  Athenians.  Chabrias  was  suspected,9 
and  charged  with  treason  upon  this  occasion.  Callis- 
tratus was  chosen  to  plead  against  him.  The  reputa- 
tion of  the  orator,  and  the  importance  of  the  cause, 
excited  curiosity  and  made  a  great  noise  in  the  city. 
Demosthenes,  who  was  then  sixteen 

A.  M.  3639.    years  of  age,  earnestly  entreated   his 

Ant.  J.  C.  365.    masters  to  carry   him   with   them    to 

the  bar,  that  he  might  be  present  at 

so  famous  a  trial.     The  orator  was  heard   with  great 

attention:  and  having  had  extraordinary  success,  was 

'  Quern  pater  ardent  is  mussae  fulii'inu  lippus, 
A  carbone  <H  forcipibus,  glailiusijue  paranto 
Inc.ude,  ct  lutco  Vulcanoad  rhclora  misit. 

Jtiv.  Sat.  10. 

•J  In  Oral.  i.  com.  Apliob.  p.  896. 

»  About  41.  ](J».  «  Fourteen  thousand  crowns. 

•  Isocrates — cujus  S  ludo,  tanquam  ex  equo  Trojano,  in- 
nurneri  principos  cxicrunt.  DC  Orat.n.  94. 

«  About  22/.  10s. 

'  Lectitavisse  Platoncm  studios?,  nu<!ivis*c  rtinm,  Demos- 
thenes dicilur  :  idque  apparel  ex  gcnere  et  granditate  scr- 
monis.  Cic.  in  Brut.  n.  121. 

Illud  jusjurandum,  per  CSTSOK  in  Marathone  ac  Salamine 
propucnuturc*  Rcip.  satis  manifesto  dccet,  pr«ceptorem  eju« 
Platoncm  fni«.«f.  Qmntil.  I.  ill.  c.  10 

i  Aul.Gcl.  :.  iii.  r.  13. 

•  Dcmoit.  in  Midi.  p.  613. 


attended  home  by  a  crowd  of  i'.Iustrions  citizens,  wh« 
seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  praising  and  admi- 
ring him.  The  young  man  was  extremely  affected 
with  the  honours  which  he  saw  paid  to  the  orator 
and  still  more  with  the  supreass  influence  of  eloquence 
over  the  minds  of  men,  over  which  it  exercises  a  kind 
ot  absolute  power.  He  was  himself  sensible  of  its 
effects;  and  not  being  able  to  resist  its  charms,  he 
gave  himself  wholly  up  to  it,  from  thenceforth  re- 
nounced all  other  studies  and  pleasures,  and  as  long 
as  Callistratus  continued  at  Athens,  he  nevtr  quitted 
him,  but  made  all  the  improvement  he  could  fican 
his  precepts. 

The  first  essay  of  his  eloquence  wss  against  his 
guardians,  whom  he  obliged  to  refund  n  part  of  hit 
fortune.  Encouraged  by  this  success,  be  venlured  to 
speak  before  the  people,  bat  with  very  ill  fortune. 
He  had  a  weak  voice,  an  impediment  in  his  speech, 
and  a  very  short  breath;  notwithstanding  which,  his 
periods  were  so  long,  that  he  vra's  often  ot  liged  to  stop 
in  the  midst  of  them  to  take  breath.  This  occasioned 
his  being  hissed  by  the  whole  audience:  from  whence 
he  retired  entirely  discouraged,  and  determined  to 
renounce  for  ever  a  functipaci  which  he  believed  him- 
self incapable.  One  of  his  auditors,  who,  through  all 
these  imperfections,  had  observed  en  excellent  fund 
of  genius  in  him,  and  a  ki;;i  of  eloquence  which  came 
very  near  that  of  Pericies,  gave  him  new  spirit 
from  the  grateful  idea  of  so  giorious  a  resemblance, 
and  the  good  advice  which  he  added  to  it. 

He  ventured  therefore,  to  appear  a  second  time  be- 
fore the  people,  and  was  no  better  received  than  ber 
fore.  As  he  withdrew,  hanging;  down  his  head,  ana 
in  the  utmost  confusion,  Satyrus,  one  of  the  most  ex- 
cellent actors  of  those  tiroes,  who  was  his  frieqd,  met 
him,  and  having  learnt  from  himself  the  cause  of  his 
being  so  much  dejected,  he  assured  him  that  the  evi. 
was  not  without  remedy,  and  that  the  case  was  not  sr 
desperate  as  he  imagined.  He  desired  him  only  to 
repeat  some  of  Sophocles'  or  Euripides'  verses  to  him, 
which  he  accordingly  did.  Satyrus  spoke  them  after 
him,  and  gave  them  such  graces  by  the  tone,  gesture, 
and  spirit,  with  which  he  pronounced  them,  that  De- 
mosthenes himself  found  them  qi^te  different  from 
what  they  were  in  his  own  manner  of  speaking.  H« 
perceived  plainly  what  he  wanted,  acd  applied  him- 
self to  the  acquiring  of  it. 

His  efforts  to  correct  his  natural  defect  of  utterance, 
and  to  perfect  himself  in  pronunciation,  of  which  his 
friend  had  made  him  understand  the  value,  seem  al 
most  incredible,  and  prove  that  an  industrious  perse- 
verance can  surmount  ail  things.  lie  stammered  to 
such  a  degree,1"  that  he  could  not  pronounce  some  let- 
ters, amongst  others,  that  with  which  the  name  of 
the  art  he  studied  begins;11  6:id  he  was  so  short- 
breathed  that  he  could  not  utter  avchole  period  with- 
out stopping.  He  at  length  overcame  these  obstacles 
by  [intting  small  pebbles  iato  hisn:cuih,  and  pronoun- 
cing several  verses  in  that  manner  without  interrup- 
tion; and  that  even  when  v/alkiner,  f.nd  going  up  steep 
and  difficult  places;  so  that,  at  last,  no  letter  mad« 
him  hesitate,  and  his  breath  held  cut  through  the 
longest  periods.  He  went  also  to  the  sea-side,"  ana 
whilst  the  waves  were  in  the  mott  violent  aquation 
he  pronounced  harangues,  to  acci  stom  himself,  by  thf 
confused  noise  of  the  waters,  to  the  roar  of  the  people 
and  the  tumultuous  cries  of  public  R«semblies. 

Demosthenes  took  no  less  care  of  his  actions  that 
of  his  voice."  He  had  a  large  looking-glass  irt  hit 
house,  which  served  to  teach  him  gesture,  and  nt  which 
he  used  to  declaim,  before  he  spoke  in  public.  To 
correct  a  fault  which  he  had  contracted  by  an  ill  ha- 
bit, of  continually  shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  prac- 
tised standing  upright  in  a  kind  of  very  narrow  pul- 
pit or  rostrum,  over  which  hung  a  halbert,  in  «uch  a 
manner  that,  if  in  the  heat  of  action  that  motion  es- 
caped him,  the  point  of  the  weapon  might  serve  at  the 
same  time  to  admonish  and  correct  him. 

His  pains  were  well  bestowed;  for  it  was  by  this 
means  that  he  carried  the  art  of  declaiming  to  the 
highest  degree  of  perfection  of  which  it  is  capable 


i»  Cie.  I.  i.  dcOrat.  D.  2CO,  301. 
•»  Quintil.  1.  i.e.  3. 


»  Rhetorir. 
13  Id.  1.  xi.  c.l 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


499 


whe.jce  it  is  plain,  he  well  knew  its  value  and  im- 
portance. When  he  was  asked  three  several  times, 
which  quality  he  thought  most  necessary  in  an  ora- 
tor, he  gave  no  other  answer  than  Prtmnnciatio/i; 
insinuating-,  by  making  that  reply  three  times  suc- 
cessively,' 'hat  qualification  to  be  the  only  one,  of 
which  the  want  could  be  least  concealed,  and  which 
was  the  most  capable  of  concealing  other  defect?: 
and  that  pronunciation  alone  could  give  considerable 
weight  even  to  an  indifferent  orator,  when  without  it 
the  most  excellent  could  not  hop*  for  the  least  suc- 
cess. He  must  have  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  it, 
since,  in  order  to  attain  a  perfection  in  it,  and  to  re- 
ceive the  instruction  of  Neoptolemus,  the  most  ex- 
cellent comedian  then  in  being,  he  devoted  so  consi- 
derable a  sum  as  10,000  drachmas,'  though  he  was 
Dot  very  rich. 

His  application  to  study  was  no  less  surprising. 
To  be  the  more  removed  from  noise,  and  less  subject 
to  distraction,  he  caused  a  small  chamber  to  be  made 
for  him  under  ground,  in  which  he  sometimes  shut 
himself  up  for  whole  months,  shaving  on  purpose 
half  his  head  and  face,  that  he  might  not  be  in  a  con- 
dition to  go  abroad.  It  was  there,  by  the  light  of  a 
small  lamp,  he  composed  the  admirable  orations 
which  were  said,  by  those  who  envied  him,  to  smell 
of  the  oil;  to  imply,  that  thev  were  too  elaborate. 
"  It  is  plain.1'  replied  he,  "yours  did  not  cost  you  so 
much  trouble."  He  rose  very  early  in  the  morn'ng,3 
and  used  to  say,  that  he  was  sorry  when  any  work- 
man was  at  his  business  before  him.  We  may  judge 
of  his  extraordinary  efforts*  to  acquire  perfection  of 
every  kind,  from  the  |>ains  he  took  in  copying  Thu- 
cydides'  history  eight  times  with  his  own  hand,  in 
order  to  render  the  style  ol  that. great  man  familiar  to 
him. 

Demosthenes  after  having  exercised  his  talent  of 
eloquence  in  several  private  causes,  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  full  light,  and  mounted  the  tribunal,  to 
treat  there  upon  the  public  ali'airs;  with  what  suc- 
cess wt  shall  see  herenfter.  Cicero5  tells  us  that  his 
was  so  great,  that  all  Greece  came  in  crowds 
t-  Athens  to  hear  Deiii<isthenes  speak:  and  he  adds, 
thai  ••rt-rit,  so  great  as  his,  could  not  but  have  had 
that  efrect.  I  do  not  examine  in  this  place  into  the 
charac'er  of  his  eloquence;  I  have  enlarged  suffi- 
cientlv  upon  that  elsewhere;8  I  only  consider  its 
wonderful  effects. 

If  we  may  believe  Philip,  and  upon  this  point  he 
is  certainly  an  evidence  of  unquestionable  authority, 
the  eloquence  of  Demosthenes  alone  did  him  more 
hurt  than  all  the  armies  a:id  fleets  of  the  Athenians.' 
His  harangues,  he  said,  were  like  machines  of  war, 
and  batteries  raised  at  a  distance  against  him;  by 
which  he  overthrew  all  his  projects,  and  ruined  his 
enterprises,  without  its  being  possible  to  prevent 
their  efftct.  "  For  I  myself,"  says  Philip  of  him, 
"had  I  been  present,  and  heard  that  vehement  orator 
declaim,  I  should  have  been  the  first  to  conclude  that 
it  was  indispensably  necessary  to  declare  war  against 
me."  No  city  seemed  impregnable  to  that  prince, 
provided  he  could  introduce  a  mule  laden  with  gold 
into  it:  but  he  confessed,  that,  to  his  sorrow,  Demos- 
thenes was  invincible  in  that  respect,  and  that  he 
always  found  him  inaccessible  to  his  presents.  After 
the  battle  of  Chaeronea,  Philip,  though  victor,  was 
struck  \vilh  extreme  dread  at  the  prospect  of  the 
great  danger  to  which  that  orator,  by  the  powerful 


<  .Actio  in  dicendo  una  dominatur.  Sine  hac  summus 
nralor  esse  numero  nullo  potesl :  meiliocris,  bar  instrurtus, 
tumrrws  «epe  suptrare.  Huic  print*.*  dedisse  Demosthenes 
diciiur,  cum  rosHreiur  quid  in  dicendu  cruel  primum;  huic 
«c«:unHus.  huictenias.  Cic.de  Oral.  \.  iii.  n.  213. 

»  About  Q40/.  sterling. 

>  Cui    non  runt  audiite  DeimMthenis  vigilto?  qui  dotere 
IP  ali'b.-it.  «i  quanrio  opifirum  anteiurana  virtin  e»net  mduc- 
tria.     Tufc.  Qurrsr.  I.  jv.  n.  44. 

«   Lurian.  adver?.  Indoct.  p.  639. 

>  Ne  illuil   quidem   intelligunt,   non   modo   ila   memorie 
proditum  esse.  sod  ila  necessp  fui«Ke,  cum  Demosthenes  die- 
turus  os*-i.  ut  concursu«,  audicndi  causa  ex  toti  Graecia  fie- 
rent.     /»  Brut.  n.  230. 

•  Art  of  studying  (he  Relief  Leltret,  vol.  ii. 
'  Lucian.  in  Encom.  Demoith.  p.  940,  941. 


league  he  had  been  the  sole  cause  of  forming  against 
him,  and  had  exposed  both  himself  and  hi*  kingdom. 

Antipater  spoke  of  him  in  similar  terms.8  "  I  value 
not,"  said  he,  "the  Piraeeus,  the  galleys,  and  armiei 
of  the  Athenians.  For  what  have  we  to  fear  from  a 
people  continually  employed  in  games,  feasts,  nnd 
Bacchanalian  rites?  Demosthenes  alone  gives  me 
pain.  Without  him,  the  Athenians  are  in  no  respect 
different  from  the  meanest  people  of  Greece.  He 
alone  excites  and  animates  them.  It  is  he  that 
rouses  them  from  their  lethargy  and  stupefaction 
and  puts  arms  and  oars  into  their  hands  almost 
against  their  will.  Incessantly  representing  to  them 
the  famous  battles  of  Marathon  and  Salamis,  he  trans- 
forms them  into  new  men  by  the  ardour  of  his  dis- 
courses, and  inspires  them  with  incredible  valour 
and  boldness.  Nothing  escapes  his  penetrating  eyei 
nor  his  consummate  prudence.  He  foresees  all  our 
designs,  he  countermines  all  our  projects,  and  dis- 
concerts us  in  every  thing;  nnd  did  Athens  entirely 
confide  in  him,  and  wholly  follow  his  advice,  we 
should  be  irremediably  undone.  Nothing  can  tempt 
him,  nor  diminish  his  love  for  his  country.  All  the 
gold  of  Philip  finds  no  more  access  to  him,  than  that 
of  Persia  did  formerly  to  Aristides." 

He  was  reduced  bv  necessity  to  give  this  glorious 
testimony  for  himself,  in  making  good  his  defence 
against  ./Eschines,  his  accuser  and  declared  enemy. 
"  WhiNt  all  the  orators  have  suffered  themselves  to 
be  corrupted  by  the  presents  of  Philip  and  Alex- 
ander, it  is  well  known,"  savs  he,  "that  neither  deli 
cafe  conjunctures,  nor  engaging  expressions,  nor 
magnificent  promises,  nor  hope,  nor  fear,  nor  favour, 
nor  an}'  thing  in  the  world,  have  ever  been  able  to 
induce  me  to  relax  in  any  point,  which  I  thought 
favourable  either  to  the  rights  or  interest  of  my 
country."  He  adds,  that  instead  of  acting  like  those 
mercenary  persons,  who,  in  all  they  proposed,  de- 
clared for  such  as  paid  them  best,  like  scales,  that 
always  incline  to  the  side  from  whence  they  receive 
most;  he,  in  all  the  counsels  he  had  given,  had  solely 
in  view  the  interest  and  glory  of  his  country,  and 
that  he  had  always  continued  inflexible  and  incor- 
ruptible by  the  \facedonian  gold.  The  sequel  will 
show  whether  he  supported  that  character  to  the  end. 

Such  was  the  orator  who  is  about  to  ascend  the 
tribunal,  or  rather  the  statesman  who  is  going  to 
enter  upon  the  administration  of  the  public  affairs, 
and  to  be  the  principle  and  soul  of  all  the  enter- 
prises of  Athens  against  Philip  of  Macedon. 

SECTION  VII  — DIGRESSIONS  UPON  THE  MANNER 
OF  FITTING  OUT  FLEETS  BY  THE  ATHENIANS,  AND 
THE  EXEMPTIONS  AND  OTHER  MARKS  OF  HONOUR 
GRANTED  UY  THAT  CITY  TO  SUCH  AS  HAD  REN- 
DERED IT  GREAT  SERVICES. 

THE  subject  of  this  digression  ought  properly  to 
have  had  place  in  that  part  of  this  volume  where  I 
have  treated  of  the  maritime  affairs  of  the  Athenians. 
But  at  that  time  I  had  not  in  my  thoughts  those 
orations  of  Demosthenes  which  speak  of  them.  It  is 
a  deviation  from  the  chain  of  the  history,  which  the 
reader  may  easily  pass  over,  if  he  thinks  fit. 

The  word  Trierarchs9  signifies  no  more  in  itself 
than  commanders  o^"  g-alltys.  But  those  citizens 
were  also  called  Trierarchs  who  were  appointed  to 
fit  out  the  galleys  in  time  of  war,  and  to  furnish 
them  with  all  things  necessary,  or  at  least  with  part 
of  them. 

They  were  chosen  out  of  the  richest  of  the  people, 
and  there  was  no  fixed  number  of  them.  Sometime* 
two.  sometimes  three,  and  sometimes  even  ten  Trier- 
archs were  appointed  to  equip  one  vessel. 

At  length  the  number  of  Trierarchs  in  general  was 
fixed  at  1200,'°  in  this  manner.  Athens  was  divided 
into  ten  tribes.  A  hundred  and  twenty  of  the  richest 
citizens  of  each  tribe,  were  nominated  to  furnish  the 
expenses  of  these  armaments;  and  thus  each  tiibe 
furnishing  six  score,  the  number  of  the  Trierarch4 
amounted  to  1200. 


•  Locian.  in  Encom.  Demo»th.  p.  934 — 936. 

•  T(i«(«{X"  '•  Ulpian.  iii  Otynth.  ii  p.  3X 


f»oo 


HISTORY  OF  THE 


Those  1200  men  were  again  divided  into  two  parts, 
of  600  each;  and  those  600 subdivided  into  two  more, 
each  of  300.  The  first  300  were  chosen  from  among 
such  us  were  richest.  Upon  pressing  occasions  they 
advanced  the  necessary  expense?,  and  were  reim- 
bursed bv  the  other  300,  who  paid  their  proportion 
as  the  state  of  their  affair*  would  admit. 

A  law  was  afterwards  made,  whereby  those  1200 
were  divided  into  different  companies,  each  consist- 
ing of  sixteen  men,  who  joined  in  the  equipment  of  a 
galley.  That  law  was  very  heavy  upon  the  poorer 
citizens,  and  radically  unjust,  as  it  decreed  that  this 
number  of  sixteen  should  be  chosen  by  their  age, 
and  not  their  estates.  It  ordained  that  all  citiiens, 
from  txventy-five  to  forty,  should  be  included  in  one 
of  these  companies,  an. I  contribute  one-sixteenth;  so 
that  by  this  law  the  poorer  citizens  were  to  con- 
tribute as  much  as  the  most  opuient,  and  often  found 
it  impossible  to  provide  for  an  expense  so  much 
above  their  power.  From  whence  it  happened,  that 
the  fleet  was  either  not  armed  in  time,  or  very  ill 
fitted  out;  by  which  means  Athens  lost  the  most 
favourable  opportunities  for  action. 

Demosthenes,1  always  intent  upon  the  public  good, 
to  remedy  tl'.ese  inconveniences,  proposed  the  abro- 
gation of  the  law  by  another  Bj  the  latter,  the 
Trierarchs  were  to  be  chosen,  not  by  the  number  of 
their  y^ars,  but  the  value  of  their  fortunes.  Each 
citizen,  whose  estate  amounted  to  ten  talents,*  was 

obliged  to  fit  out  one  galley  at  his  own  expense;  and 
•  •  i  i  • 

it  to  twenty  talents,  two;  and  so  on  in  proportion. 

Such  as  were  not  worth  ten  talents  were  to  join 
with  as  many  others  as  were  necessary  to  complete 
that  sum,  and  to  fit  out  a  galley. 

Nothing  could  be  wiser  than  this  law  of  Demos- 
thenes, which  reformed  all  the  abuses  of  the  other. 
By  these  means  the  fleet  was  fitted  out  in  time,  and 
provided  with  all  things  necessary;  the  poor  were 
considerably  relieved,  and  none  but  the  rich  dis- 
pleased with  it.  For  instead  of  contributing  only  a 
sixteenth,  as  by  the  first  law,  they  were  sometimes 
obliged  by  the  second  to  equip  a  galley  bv  them- 
selves, and  sometimes  two  or  more,  according  to  the 
amount  of  their  estates. 

The  rich  were  in  consequence  very  much  offended 
at  Demosthenes  for  this  regulation;  and  it  required, 
without  doubt,  no  small  courage  in  him  to  disregard 
their  complaints,  and  to  hazard  the  making  himself 
as  many  enemies  as  there  were  powerful  citizen*  in 
Athens.  Let  us  hear  himself.  "  Seeing,"*  says  he, 
speaking  to  the  Athenians,  "  that  your  maritime 
affairs  were  in  a  ruinous  condition,  the  rich  pos- 
sessed of  an  immunity  purchased  at  a  very  low  rate, 
the  citizens  of  middle,  or  small  fortunes  overwhelmed 
with  taxes,  and  the  republic  itself,  in  consequence  of 
these  inconveniences,  never  attempting  any  thing  till 
too  late  to  be  of  any  avail;  I  hud  the  courage  to 
establish  a  law,  whereby  the  rich  are  brought  back 
to  their  duty,  the  poor  relieved  from  oppression,  and, 
what  was  of  the  highest  importance,  the  republic 
enabled  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  war 
in  due  time."  He  adds,  that  there  was  nothing  the 
rich  would  n  >t  have  given  him  to  forbear  the  pro- 
posing of  this  law,  or  at  least  to  have  suspended  its 
execution:  but  he  did  not  suffer  himself  to  be  swayed 
either  by  their  threats  or  promises,  and  continued 
firm  to  the  public  good. 

Not  having  been  able  to  make  him  change  his 
resolution,  they  contrived  a  stratagem  to  render  it 
ineffectual.  For  it  was  without  doubt  at  their  insti- 
gation that  a  certain  person,  nomed  Patroclus,  cited 
Demosthenes  before  the  judges,  and  prosecuted  him 
juridically  as  an  infringer  of  the  laws  of  his  country. 
The  accuser  not  having  the  fifth  part  of  :he  voices 
on  his  side,  was  according  to  custom  fined  500 
drachmas,4  and  Demosthenes  acquitted  of  the  charge. 
He  him«elf  informs  ui  of  these  particulars. 

1  much  doubt,  whether  at  Rome,  especially  in  the 
latter  times,  the  affair  would  have  taken  this  turn. 

i  Demosth   in  Oral,  ilc  Cluseib. 

*  T»n  thousand  crowns 

*  iJeirostfi.  pro  Cteniph.  p.  419. 
4  Twel»o  pound?  6»e  nhillinpi. 


For  we  see,  that  whatever  attempts  were  made  bj 
the  tribunes  of  the  people,  and  io  whatever  ex 
tremity  the  quarrel  arose,  it  never  w:is  possible  to 
induce  the  rich,  who  were  far  more  powerful  and 
enterprising  than  those  of  Athens,  to  renounce  tho 
possession  of  the  lands,  which  they  had  usurped  io 
manifest  contravention  of  the  institutions  of  the  state. 
The  law  of  Demosthenes  was  approved  and  confirmed 
by  the  senate  and  people. 

We  find,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  the  Tri- 
erarchs fitted  out  the  galleys  and  equipped  them  at 
their  own  expense.  The  state  paid  the  mariners  and 
sol'J'trs,  generally  at  the  rate  of  three  Otioli,  or  five, 
pence  a  day,  as  has  been  observed  elsewhere.  The 
officers  had  greater  pay. 

The  Trierarch  commanded  the  vessel,  and  gave  all 
orders  on  board.  When  there  were  two  of  them  to 
a  ship,  each  commanded  six  month!) 

Whf  n  they  quitted  their  office,  they  were  obliged 
to  give  an  account  of  their  administration,  and  de- 
livered a  state  of  the  vessel's  equipage  to  their  suc- 
cessor, or  the  republic.  The  successor  was  obliged 
to  go  immediately  and  fill  up  the  vacant  place;  and 
if  he  failed  to  be  at  his  post  by  a  time  as.-igned  him, 
he  was  fined  for  his  neglect. 

As  the  charge  of  Trierarch  was  very  expensive, 
those  who  were  nominated  to  it,  were  admitted  to 
point  out  some  other  person  richer  than  themselves, 
and  to  demand  that  he  should  be  put  into  their  place; 
provided  they  were  ready  to  change  estates  with 
such  person,  and  to  act  as  Trierarch  alter  such 
exchange.  This  law  was  instituted  by  Solon,  and 
was  called  Me  law.  tf  exchanges. 

Besides  the  equipment  of  galleys,  which  must  hnve 
amounted  to  very  great  sums,  the  rich  had  another 
burden  to  support  in  time  of  war;  that  was,  the 
extraordinary  taxes  and  imposts  laid  on  their  estates; 
upon  which  sometimes  the  hundredth,  sometimes  a 
fiftieth,  and  even  a  twelfth,  were  levied,  according 
to  the  different  necessities  of  the  state. 

Nobody  at  Athens,5  upon  any  pretence  whatw 
ever,  could  be  exempted  from  these  two  charges, 
except  the  Jfovemviri,  or  nine  Archons,  who  were 
not  obliged  to  fit  out  galleys.  Sc  that -we  see  clear- 
ly, that  without  shios  or  money,  the  republic  was 
not  in  a  condition,  either  Io  support  wars,  or  defend 
itself. 

There  were  other  immunities  and  exemptions, 
which  were  granted  to  such  as  had  rendered  great 
services  to  the  republic,  and  sometimes  even  to  all 
their  descendants;  such  as  maintaining  the  public 
places  for  the  exercises  with  all  things  neces.-ary  foi 
such  as  frequented  them;  instituting  a  public  feast 
for  one  of  the  ten  tribes;  and  defray  ing  the  expenses  of 
games  and  shows;  all  which  amounted  to  great  sums. 

These  immunities,  as  has  already  been  said,  were 
marks  of  honour  and  rewards  for  services  rendered 
the  state;  as  well  as  the  statues  which  weie  erected 
to  great  men,  the  freedom  of  the  city  which  was 
granted  to  strangers,  and  the  privilege  of  being 
maintained  in  the  Prytaneum  at  the  public  expense. 
The  view  of  Athens  in  these  honourable  distinctions, 
which  were  sometimes  perpetuated  through  families, 
was  to  express  their  high  sense  of  gratitude,  and  to 
kindle  at  the  same  time  in  the  hearts  of  (her  citizens 
a  noble  thirst  of  glory,  and  an  ardent  love  for  theii 
country. 

Besides  the  statues  erected  to  Harmodius  *nd 
Aristogiton,  the  deliverers  of  Athens,  their  de 
scendants  v/ere  for  over  exempted  from  all  public 
employments,  and  enjoyed  that  honourable  privilege 
many  ages  after. 

As  Aristides  died  without  any  estate,8 and  left  his 
son  Lvsimachus  no  other  patrimony  but  hisg5oryand 
poverty,  the  republic  gave  him  100  acres  of  wood,  and 
os  much  arable  land,  in  Euboea  besides  100  minse 
at  one  payment,  and  four  drachmas,  or  forty  penct 
a-day. 

Athens,8  in  the  services  which  were  clone  it,  regard 


Athens,8  in  the  services  wfncl 

»  Demosih.  advern.  Lept.  p.  545. 

•  Idem  in  Oral,  ad  Lep.  p.  558. 

'  About  two  hundred  and  forty  pound* 

•  Dctnoith.  in  Oral,  ad  lx-f.  p.  T37 


PERSIANS  AND  GRECIANS. 


501 


td  more  the  good  will  than  the  action  itself.  A 
certain  person  of  C\  rene,  named  Epicerdus,  being 
at  S}  racuse  when  the  Athenians  were  defeated, 
touclud  with  compassion  for  the  unfortunate  pri- 
soners dispersed  in  Sicily,  whom  he  saw  ready  to 
expire  lor  want  of  food,  distributed  100  minae  amongst 
tin  in,  that  is,  about  2-40/.  Athens  adopted  him  into 
the  number  of  Us  citizens,  and  granted  him  all  the 
immunities  before  mentioned.  Some  time  after,  in 
the  war  against  the  thirty  tyrants,  the  same  Kpicerdus 
gave  the  city  a  talent.1  These  were  but  small  matters 
on  either  occasion  with  regard  to  the  grandeur  and 
power  of  Athens;  but  they  were  deeply  aHected  with 
the  good  will  of  i  stranger,  who,  without  any  view 
of  interest,  in  a  time  of  public  calamity,  exhausted 
himself  in  some  measure  for  the  relief  of  those  with 
whom  he  had  no  connection,  and  froiu  whom  he  had 
notl.V.ig  to  expect. 

1  ne  same  Athens  granted  the  freedom  of  their 
city,2  and  an  exemption  from  customs,  to  Leucon, 
who  reigned  in  the  Bosphorus,  and  to  his  children, 
because  they  imported  from  the  lands  of  that  prince 
a  considerable  quantity  of  corn,  of  which  they  were 
in  extreme  want,  subsisting  almost  entirely  upon 
what  came  from  foreign  parts.  Leucon,  in  his  turn, 
not  to  be  outdone  in  generosity,  exempted  the 
Athenian  merchants  from  the  duty  of  a  thirtieth  that 
was  imposed  upon  all  grain  exported  from  his 
dominions,  and  granted  them  the  privilege  of  sup- 
plying themselves  with  coin  in  hi*  country  in 
preference  to  all  other  people.  That  exemption 
amounted  to  a  considerable  sum.  For  they  brought 
from  thence  alone  2,000,000  of  quarters  of  corn,  of 
which  the  thirtieth  part  amounted  to  almost  70,000. 

The  children  of  Conon  and  Chabrias  were  also 
granted  an  immunity  from  public  offices.  The 
names  alone  of  those  illustrious  generaU  sufficiently 
justify  that  liberality  of  the  Athenian  people.  A 
person,  however,  called  Leptines,  out  of  a  mistaken 
teal  fcr  the  public  good  proposed  to  abrogate,  by  a 
new  \<tw,  all  the  grants  of  that  kind,  which  had  been 
made  from  time  immemorial,  except  those  which 
regarded  the  posterity  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton; 
and  to  enact,  that  for  the  future  the  people  should 
not  be  permitted  to  grant  such  privileges. 

Demosthenes  strongly  opposed  this  law,  though 
with  great  delicacy  towards  the  person  who  pro- 
posed it;  praising  his  good  intentions,  and  not  speak- 
ing of  him  but  with  esteem;  a  much  more  efficacious 
manner  of  refuting,  than  those  violent  invectives, 
and  that  eager  and  passionate  style,  which  serve  only 
to  alienate  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  and  to  render 
an  orator  suspected,  who  discredits  his  cause  him- 
•elf,  and  sho\vs  its  weak  side,  by  substituting  railing 
in  the  place  of  reasons,  which  are  alone  capable  of 
convincing. 

After  having  shown  that  so  odious  a  reform  would 
prove  of  litsle  or  no  advantage  to  the  republic,  from 
the  inconsiderable  number  of  the  exempted  persons, 
he  goes  on  to  expose  its  inconveniences,  and  sets 
them  in  a  full  light. 

"  It  is  first,"  says  he,  "doing  injury  to  the  memory 
of  those  great  men,  whose  merit  the  state  intended 
to  acknowledge  and  reward  by  such  immunities;  it 
is  in  some  manner  calling  in  question  the  service* 


*  A  thousand  crown*. 

I  DenkKth.  in  Oral.  •>!  Lep.  p.  *45,  546. 


they  have  done  their  country;  it  i»  throwing  a 
suspicion  upon  their  great  actions,  injurious  to,  if 
not  destructive  of,  their  glory.  And  were  they  now 
alive  and  present  in  this  assembly,  which  of  us  all 
would  presume  to  oiler  them  such  an  affront?  Should 
not  the  respect  we  owe  their  memories  make  us 
consider  them  as  always  alive  and  present? 

"  But  if  we  are  little  affected  with  what  concern* 
them,  can  we  be  insensible  to  our  own  interest?  Be- 
sides that  cancelling  so  ancient  a  law  is  to  condemn 
the  conduct  of  our  ancestors,  what  shame  shall  we 
bring  upon  ourselves,  and  what  an  injury  shall  w« 
do  our  reputation?  The  glory  of  Athens,  and  of 
every  well-governed  state,  is  to  value  itself  upon  iti 
gratitude;  to  keep  its  word  religiously,  and  to  be 
true  to  all  its  engagements.  A  pnvute  person  that 
fails  in  these  respects,  is  hated  and  abhorred;  and 
who  is  not  afraid  of  being  reproached  with  ingrati- 
tude? And  shall  the  commonwealth,  in  canrt  Iling  a 
law  that  has  received  the  sanction  of  public  authority, 
and  been  in  a  manner  consecrated  by  the  usage  af 
many  nges,  be  guilty  of  so  scandalous  a  prevarica- 
tion? We  prohibit  lying  in  the  very  markets  under 
heavy  penalties,  and  require  truth  and  good  faith  to 
be  observed  in  them;  and  shall  we  renounce  them 
ourselves,  by  the  revocation  of  grants  passec'  in  all 
their  forms,  and  upon  which  every  private  man  has  a 
right  to  insist .' 

"To  act  in  such  a  manner,  would  be  to  extinguish 
in  the  hearts  of  our  citi/.i  us  all  emulation  for  glory, 
all  desire  to  distinguish  themselves  by  great  exploits, 
all  zeal  for  the  honour  and  welfare  of  their  country, 
which  are  the  great  springs  and  principles  of  almost 
all  the  actions  of  life.  And  it  is  to  no  purpose  to 
object  the  example  of  Sparta  and  Thebes,  which 
grant  no  such  exemptions.  Do  we  repent  our  not 
resembling  them  in  many  things;  and  i*  there  any 
wisdom  in  proposing  their  defects,  and  not  their 
virtues,  for  our  imitation?" 

Demosthenes  concludes  with  demanding  the  law 
of  exemptions  to  be  retained  in  all  its  extent,  with 
this  exception,  that  all  pers>ns  i.n<ju!J  be-  deprived 
of  the  bem  fits  of  it,  but  those  who  had  a  just  title  to 
them;  and  that  a  strict  inquiry  should  be  made  for 
that  purpose. 

It  i-  plain  that  I  have  only  made  a  very  slight 
extract  in  this  place  of  an  exceeding  long  discourse, 
and  that  I  designed  to  express  only  the  spirit  and 
sense,  without  confining  myself  to  the  method  and 
expressions  of  it. 

There  was  a  meanness  in  Leptines's  desiring  to 
obtain  a  trivial  advantage  for  the  republic,  by  re- 
trenching the  moderate  expenses  that  were  an  honour 
to  it,  and  in  no  degree  burdensome,  whilst  there  were 
other  abuses  of  far  greater  importance  to  reform 

Such  marks  of  public  gratitude  perpetuated  in  a 
family,  perpetuate  also  in  a  state  an  ardent  zeal  for 
one's  country,  and  a  warm  desire  to  obtain  distirctioa 
by  glorious  actions.  It  is  not  without  pain  I  find 
amongst  ourselves,  llmt  part  of  the  privileges  granted 
to  the  family  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  have  been  re- 
trenched. Charles  VII.S  had  ennobled  her,  her 
father,  three  brothers,  and  all  their  descends  its,  even 
by  the  female  line.  In  1614,  at  the  request  of  the 
attorney-general,  the  article  of  nobility  on  tit* 
women's  side  was  retrenched. 

*  Mesarai. 


THE 


HISTORY   OF    PHILIP. 


BOOK  XIV. 


For  the  Authoi  •  Introduction  to  this  division  of  the  Work, 
tee  Preface,  page  xxxix. 


SECTION  I. — THE  BIRTH  AND  INFANCY  OF  PHIIJP. 
BEGINNING  OF  HIS  REIGN.  HIS  FIRST  CONQUESTS. 
THE  BIRTH  OF  ALEXANDER. 

MACEDON  was  an  hereditary  kingdom.-situated 
in  ancient  Thrace:  and  bounded  on  the  south  by  the 
mountains  of  Thessaly ;  on  the  east  by  Bottia  and  Pie- 
ria;  on  the  west  by  the  Lyncettae;  and  on  the  north 
by  Mygdonia  and  Pelagonia.  But  after  Philip  had 
conquered  part  of  Thrace  and  Illyrium,  this  kingdom 
extended  from  the  Adriatic  sea  to  the  river  Strymon. 
Edessa  was  at  first  the  capital  of  it,  but  afterwards  re- 
signed that  honour  to  Pella,  famous  for  giving  birlh 
to  Philip  and  Alexander. 

Philip,  whose  history  we  are  going  to  write,  wa< 
the  son  of  Amyntas  II.,  who  is  reckoned  the  sixteenth 
king  of  Macedon  from  Caranns,  who  had  founded  that 
kingdom  about  430  years  before;  that  is,  in  the  year 
of  ike  world  3210,  and  before  Christ  794.  The  his- 
tory of  all  these  monarchs  is  sufficiently  obscure,  and 
includes  little  more  than  several  wars  with  the  Illyri- 
ans,  the  Thracians,  and  other  neighbouring  people. 

The  kings  of  Macedon  pretended  .to  descend  from 
Hercules  bv  Caranus,  and  consequently  to  be  Greeks 
by  extraction.  Notwithstanding  this,  Demosthenes 
often  styles  them  Barbarian?,  especially  in  his  invec- 
tives against  Philip.  The  Greeks,  indeed,  gave  this 
name  to  all  other  nations,  without  excepting  the  Ma- 
cedonians. Alexander,1  king  of  Macedon,  in  the 
reign  of  Xerxes,  was  excluded,  on  pretence  of  his  be- 
ing a  Barbarian,  from  the  Olympic  games;  and  was 
not  admitted  to  share  in  them,  till  after  having  proved 
his  being  descended  originally  from  Argos.  The 
above-mentioned  Alexander,2  when  he  went  over 
from  the  Persian  camp  to  that  of  the  Greeks,  in  order 
to  acquaint  the  latter  that  Mardonius  was  determined 
to  surprise  them  at  day-break,  justified  this  perfidy 
by  his  ancient  descent,  which  he  declared  to  be  from 
the  Greeks. 

The  ancient  kings  of  Macedon  did  not  think  it  be- 
neath them  to  live  at  different  times  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  Athenians,  Thebans,  and  Spartans,  chang- 
ing their  alliances  as  it  suited  their  interest. 

We  shall  soon  see  this  Macedon,  which  formerly 
had  paid  tribute  to  Athens,  become,  under  Philip,  the 
arbiter  of  Greece,  and  triumph,  under  Alexander, 
over  all  the  forces  of  Asia. 

Amyntas,  father  of  Philip,  began  to 

A.  M.  3606.  reign  the  third  year  of  the  ninety- 
Ant.  J.  C.  398.  sixth  Olympiad.  Having  the  very 
year  after  been  warmly  attacked  by 
the  Illyrians,  and  dispossessed  of  a  great  part  of  his 
kingdom,  which  he  thought  it  scarce  possible  for  him 
ever  to  recover  again,  he  had  applied  to  the  Olynthi- 
nns;  and  in  order  to  engage  them  the  more  firmly  in 
his  interest,  had  given  up  to  them  a  considerable  tract 
of  land  in  the  neighbourhood  uf  their  city.  Accord- 
ing to  some  authors,  Argaeus,  who  was  of  the  blood 
royal,  being  supported  by  the  Athenians,  and  taking 
advantage  of  the  troubles  which  broke  out  in  Mace- 
donia, reigned  there  two  years. 

A    ICT   «jfi<*l          Amyntas  was  restored  to  the  throne 

A       J  C  383     by  the  Thessalians;S  upon  which   he 

.     was  dpsiroiis  of  resuming  the  po«ses- 


•  Herod.  I.  v.  c.  *J. 

•  D*od  1.  xir.  •).  307.  341. 


*  Ibid.  1.  vi.  c.  44. 


sion  of  the  lands,  which  nothing  but  the  u  ifortunate 
situation  of  his  affairs  had  obliged  him  to  resign  to 
the  Olynthians.  This  occasioned  a  war;  but  Amyn- 
tas. not  being  strong  enough  to  make  head  singly 
against  so  powerful  a  people,  the  Greeks  and  the  Athe- 
nians in  particular,  sent  him  succours,  and  enabled 
him  to  weaken  the  power  of  the  Olynthians.  who 
threatened  him  with  a  total  and  impending  ruin.  It 
was  then  that  Amyntas,4  in  an  assembly  of  the  Greeks, 
to  which  he  had  sent  a  deputation,  engaged  to  unite 
with  them  in  enabling  the  Athenians  to  possess  them- 
selves of  Amphipolis,  declaring  that  this  city  belong- 
ed to  the  last-mentioned  people.  This  close  alliance 
was  continued  after  his  death  with  queen  Eurydice, 
hi?  widow,  as  we  shall  soon  see. 

Philip,  one  of  the  sons  of  Amyntas, 
was  born  the  same  year  this  monarch        A.M.  3621. 
declared  war  against  the  Olynthians.   Ant.  J.C.383, 
This  Philip  was  the  father  of  Alexan- 
der the  Great;  for  we  cannot  distinguish  him  better, 
than  by  calling  him  the  father  of  such  a  son,  as  Cice- 
ro 5  observes  of  the  father  of  Cato  of  Utica. 

Amyntus  died,'  after  having  reign- 
ed twenty-four  years.     He  left  three        A.  M.  3629. 
legitimate  children,  whom  Eurydice  Ans.  J,  C.  375. 
had  brought  him,  viz.  Alexander,  Per- 
diccas  and  Philip,  and  a  natural  son  named  Ptolemy. 

Alexander,  as  eldest  son,  succeeded  his  father.  _  In 
the  very  beginning  of  his  reign,  he  was  engaged  in  a 
sharp  war  against  the  lllynans,  neighbours  to,  and 
perpetual  enemies  of  Macedonia.  Having  concluded 
a  peace  with  them,  he  put  Philip,  his  younger  brother, 
an  infant,  into  their  hands,  by  way  of  hostage,  who 
was  soon  sent  back  to  him.  Alexander  reigned  but 
one  year. 

Tne  crown  now  belonged  by  right 
to  Perdiccas,7  his  brother,  who  was  A.  M.  3630. 
become  eldest  by  his  death;  but  Pau-  Ant.  J.  C.  874. 
sanias,  a  prince  of  the  blood  royal, 
who  had  been  exiled  disputed  it  with  him;  and  wa« 
supported  by  a  great  number  of  Macedonians.  He 
began  by  seizing  some  fortresses.  Happily  tor  the 
new  king,  Iphicrates  was  then  in  that  country,  whither 
the  Athenians  had  sent  him  with  a  small  fleet:  not  to 
besiege  Amphipolis  as  yet,  but  only  to  take  a  view 
of  the  place,  and  make  the  necessary  preparations  /or 
besieging  it.  Eurydice,  hearing  of  his  arrival,  be- 
sought him  to  pay  her  a  visit,  intending  to  request  hit 
Assistance  against  Pausanias.  When  he  was  come  in- 
to the  palace,  and  had  seated  himself,  the  atlli.-ted 
queen,  the  better  to  excite  his  compassion,  takes  her 
two  children,  Perdiccas  and  Philip,*  and  sets  the  for- 
mer in  the  arms,  and  the  latter  on  the  knees  of  Iphi- 
crates;  and  then  thus  addresses  him!  "Remember 
Iphicrates,  that  Amyntas,  the  father  of  these  unhappy 
orphans,  had  always  a  love  for  your  country,  and 
adopted  you  for  his  son.  This  double  tie  lays  you 
under  a  double  obligation.  The  amity  which  that 
king:  entertained  for  Athens,  requires  that  you  should 
acknowledge  us  publicly  for  your  friends;  and  the 
tenderness  which  that  father  had  for  your  person, 
claims  from  you  the  heart  of  a  brother  towards  thest 

«  jEsrhin.  de  Fals.  Le?»t.  p.  400. 

»  M.i'am  M'Mi'iii  him  dixil,  liujus  nostri  Catonts  pater 
Ui  cnim  riptcri  ex  pnirihus,  sic  hie.  <;ui  lumen  illud  pr>gv 
unit ,  iv  tiiin  rst  iiominnnilu*.  I)e  Offic.  1.  iii.  n.  66. 

«  Dim),  p.  3™t.     Justin.  I.  vii.  r.  4. 

i  jf.frh.  e)e  Kals.  Lrfrnt.  p.  3SRI,  -100. 

•  Philip  was  not  then  lest  than  nine  yean  old 

502 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


503 


children. '  [phicrates,  moved  with  this  sight  and  dis- 
count-, expelled  the  usurper,  and  restored  the  lawful 
sovereign. 

1  Perdiccus2  did  not  long  continue  in  tranquillity. 
A  new  enemy,  more  formidable  than  the  first.  soon 
invaded  his  repose.  This  was  Ptolemy,  his  brother, 
the  natural  son  of  Anivntas,  as  was  before  observed. 
He  niiichl  possibly  be  the  eldest  son,  and  claim  the 
crown  as  such,  The  two  brothers  referred  the  deci- 
sion of  their  claim  to  Pelopidas,  general  of  the  The- 
bans  still  more  revered  for  his  probity  than  his  va- 
lour. Ptlopidas  determined  in  favour  of  Perdiccas; 
and  having  judged  it  necessary  to  take  pledges  on 
botL  aides,  in  order  to  oblige  the  two  competitors  to 
observe  the  articles  of  the  treaty  which  they  had  ac- 
cepted, among  other  hostages,  he  carried  Philip  with 
him  to  Thebes,8  where  he  resided  several  years.  He 
was  then  ten  years  of  age.  Eurydice,  on  yielding  up 
this  much-loved  son,  earnestly  besought  Pelopidas  to 
procure  him  an  education  worthy  of  his  birth,  aiid 
of  the  city  to  which  he  was  going  a  hostage.  Pelo- 
pidas  placed  him  with  Epaminondas,  who  had  a  cele- 
brated Pythagorean  philosopher  in  his  house  for  the 
education  of  his  son.  Philip  improved  greatly  by 
the  instructions  of  his  preceptor,  and  much  more  by 
those  of  F.paminoudas,  under  whom  he  undoubtedly 
made  some  campaigns,  though  no  mention  is  made 
of  this  circumstance.  He  could  not  possibly  have  had 
a  more  excellent  master,  whether  for  war  or  the  con- 
duct of  lite;  for  this  illustrious  Theban  was  at  the 
same  time  a  great  philosopher,  that  is  to  say,  a  wise 
and  virtuous  man,  and  a  great  commander  as  well  as 
a  great  statesman.  Philip  was  very  proud  of  having 
been  his  pupil,  and  proposed  him  as  a  model  to  him- 
self; and  most  happy  would  he  have  been,  could  he 
have  copied  him  perfectly!  Perhaps  he  borrowed 
from  Epaminondas  his  activity  in  war,  and  his  promp- 
titude in  improving  opportunities,  which,  however, 
formed  but  a  very  inconsiderable  part  of  the  merit  of 
this  illustrious  personage.  But  with  regard  to  his 
temperance,  his  justice,  his  disinterestedness,  his  sin- 
cerity, his  magnanimity,  his  clemency,  which  render- 
ed him  truly  great,  these  were  virtues  which  Philip 
bad  not  received  from  nature,  and  did  not  acquire  by 
imitation. 

The  Thebans  did  c^t  know  that  they  were  then 
forming  and  cherishing  in  their  bosom  the  most  dan- 
gerous enemy  of  Greece.  After  Philip  had  spent 
nine  or  ttn  years  in  their  city,*  the  news  of  a  revolu- 
tion in  Maredon  made  him  nsolve  to  leave  Thebe* 
clandestinely.  Accordingly  he  steals  away,  makes 
the  utmost  ex|tedition,  and  finds  the  Macedonians  in 
the  deepest  consternation  at  having  lust  their  king 
Perdiccas.  who  had  been  killed  in  a  great  battle  by 
the  QljrtMH;  but  much  more  so,  at  finding  they  had 
as  many  enemies  as  neighbours.  The  Illyrians  were 
on  the  point  of  returning  into  the  kingdom  with  a 
greater  force;  the  Peonians  infested  it  with  perpetual 
incursions:  the  Thracians  were  determined  to  place 
Pau»aiiias  on  the  throne,  who  had  not  abandoned  his 
pretensions;  acd  the  Athenians  were  bringing  Ar- 
ga?u«,  whom  Mantius  their  general  was  ordered  to 
support  with  a  strong  fleet  and  a  considerable  body 
of  troops.  Macedonia  at  that  time  wanted  a  man  to 

fovern,  and  had  only  a  child  in  Amvntas,  the  son  of 
'erdiccas.  and  lawful  heir  of  the  crown.  Philip  go- 
verned the  kingdom  for  some  time,  by  the  title  of 
etinrdian  to  the  prince;  but  very  soon  the  subjects, 
jn«tly  alarmed,  deposed  the  nephew  in  favour  of  the 
Kncle;  and,  instead  of  the  heir  whom  nature  had  gi- 
ven them,  set  him  upon  the  throne  whom  the  present 
ron. tincture  of  affairs  required;  persuaded  that  the 

t  Plat,  in  Pelon.  p.  i"B. 

»  Plutar<»  ,jp|^*es:hal  it  wan  with  Alexander  that  Ptole- 
my di*pulr<i  ilie  empire,  wiiicli  cannot  be  made  to  asrce 
with  tlie  relation  of  JB*ckHMl  who  bein»  hie  contemporary, 
is  morr  worthy  of  credit.  1  have  therefore  thought  proper 
lo»uh«titute  Perdii-cH*  instead  of  Alexander. 

>  Thrliig  triumiioobo-g  hahitus.  prima  puerltiae  rudimon- 
la  in  uihe  severiiatis  antique,  et  in  dnmoEpnminonda-cum- 
mi  rt  pliilo<ophi  et  impornturis,  d>  posuit.  Justin.  I.  vii.  c. 
S.  Philip  lived  in  Thebei  not  only  three,  but  nine  or  ten 
yaHB. 

.liol  !.  xvi.  p.  407.     Justin.  1  vii  c.  5. 


laws  of  necessity  are  superior  to  all 

others.  Accordingly,5 Philip, at twen-        A.  M.  3644. 

ty-four   years    of  age,  ascended    the    Ant.  J.  C.36C. 

throne,  the   first  year  of  the    105th 

Olympiad. 

The  new  king,  with  great  coolness  and  presence  of 
mind,  used  all  his  endeavours  to  answer  the  expecta 
lions  of  the  people.  Accordingly,  he  pro\ ides  for 
and  remedies  every  thing,  revives  the  desponding 
courage  of  the  Macedonians,  and  reinstates  and  dis 
ciplines  the  army.  He  was  inflexibly  rigid  in  the 
last  point,'  well  knowing  that  the  success  of  his  en 
terprises  depended  on  it.  A  soldier,  who  was  verjr 
thirsty,  went  out  of  the  ranks  to  drink;  Philip  punish- 
ed him  with  great  seventy.  Another  soldier,  who 
ought  to  have  stood  to  his  arms,  laid  them  down 
him  he  immediately  ordered  to  be  put  to  death. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  established  the  Macedo- 
nian phalanx,  which  afterwards  became  to  famous, 
and  was  the  choicest  and  the  best  disciplined  body 
of  troops  the  world  had  ever  seen,  and  might  dispute 
the  pre-eminence  in  those  respects  with  the  Greeks 
of  Marathon  and  Salamis.  It  is  said  that  he  drew  up 
the  plan,  or  at  least  improved  it,  from  the  idea  sug- 
gested by  Homer.7  That  poet  describes  the  union 
of  the  Grecian  commanders  under  the  image  of  a  bat- 
talion, the  soldiers  of  which,  bv  joining  their  shields, 
form  a  body  impenetrable  to  the  enemy's  darts.  I 
rather  believe  that  Philip  formed  the  idea  of  the  pha- 
lanx from  the  lessons  ol  Epaminondas,  and  the  sacred 
battalion  of  the  Thebans.  He  treated  those  chosen 
foot-soldiers  with  peculiar  distinction,  honoured  them 
with  the  title  of  his  comrades  or  companions;8  and  by 
such  marks  of  honour  and  confidence  induced  them  to 
bear,  without  any  murmuring,  the  hardest  fatigues, 
and  to  conlVontthe  greatest  dangers  with  intrepidity. 
Such  familiarities  as  these  cost  a  monarch  little,  and 
are  of  no  common  advantage  to  him.  I  shall  insert,  at 
the  end  of  this  section,  a  uiore  particular  description 
of  the  phalanx,  and  the  use  made  of  it  in  battles.  I 
shall  borrow  from  Polybius  this  description,  the 
length  of  which  would  too  much  interrupt  the  series 
of  our  history ;  yet  being  placed  separately,  may  pro- 
bably please,  especially  by  the  judicious  reflection 
of  a  man  so  well  skilled  in  the  art  of  war  as  that  his- 
torian. 

One  of  the  first  things  Philip  took  care  of  was,  the 
negotiating  a  captious  peace  with  the  Athenians, 
whose  power  he  dreaded,  and  whom  he  was  not  wil- 
ling to  make  his  enemies,  in  the  beginning  ol  a  reign 
hitherto  but  ill  established.  He  therefore  sent  am- 
bassadors to  Athens,  spared  neither  promises  nor  pro- 
testations of  amity,  and  at  last  was  so  happy  as  to 
conclude  a  treaty,  ol  which  he  knew  how  to  make  all 
the  advantages  he  had  proposed  to  himself. 

Immediately  after  this,  he  does  not  seem  so  much 
to  act  like  a  monarch  of  but  twenty-four  years  of  age, 
as  like  a  politician  profoundly  versed  in  the  art  of  dis- 
simulation; and  who,  without  the  assistance  of  expe- 
rience, was  already  sensible,  that  to  know  when  to 
lose  at  a  proper  season  is  to  gain.  He  had  seized 
uj>on  Amphipolis,9  a  city  situated  on  the  frontiers  of 
his  kingdom,  which  consequently  stood  very  con- 
venient for  him.  He  could  not  keep  it,  as  that  would 
have  weakened  his  army  too  much;  not  to  mention 
that  the  Athenians,  whose  friendship  it  was  his 
interest  to  preserve,  would  have  been  exasperated  at 
his  holding  a  place  which  they  claimed  as  their 
colony.  On  the  other  side,  he  was  determined  not 
to  give  up  to  his  enemies  one  of  the  keys  to  his 
dominions.  He  therefore  took  the  resolution  to 
declare  that  place  free,  by  permitting  the  inhabitants 
to  govern  themselves  as  a  republic,  and  in  this 
manner  to  set  them  at  variance  with  their  ancient 
masters.  At  the  same  time  he  disarmed  the  Peonians 
by  dint  of  promises  and  presents;  resolving  to  attack 
them,  after  he  had  disunited  his  enemies,  and  weak 
ened  them  by  that  disunion. 

This  address  and   subtlety  established   him    mor« 

•  Plod.  I.  »»i.  p  407—113. 

•  .Elian.  I.  xi».  r  40.  '  Iliad.  N.  r.  130. 
I  H.O-="C-;  (tii-nifien,  literally,  B  fellow-foot  soldier 

•  Polven  Strateg.  1.  iv.  c.  17. 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP 


firmly  on  the  throne,  and  he  icon  found  himself  with- 
out competitors.  Having  barred  the  entrance  of  his 
kiijgdoiii  to  Fausanius,  he  marches  against  Argaeus, 
comes  up  with  him  in  the  road  from  jEgae  to  Methone, 
ii>-i<  :it<  him,  kills  a  great  number  of  his  soldiers,  and 
takes  a  multitude  of  prisoners;  attacks  the  Peonians, 
and  subjects  them  to  his  power.  He  afterwards  turns 
his  arms  against  the  Illyrians,  cuts  them  to  pieces, 
and  obliges  them  to  restore  to  him  all  the  places  pos- 
sessed by  them  in  Macedonia. 

Much  about  this  time  the  Atheni- 

A.  M.  3646.  ans  acted  with  the  greatest  generosi- 
Ant.  J.  C.  358.  ty  towards  the  inhabitants  of  Euboea. 
That  island,  which  is  separated  from 
Bceotia  by  the  Euripus,  was  so  called  from  its  large 
and  beautiful  posture  lands,  and  is  now  called  Negro- 
iont.  It  had  been  subject  to  the  Athenians,1  who 
had  settled  colonies  in  Eretria  and  Chalcis,  the  two 
principal  cities  of  it.  Thucydides  relates  that  in  the 
Pe-loponnesian  war,  the  revolt  of  the  Euboeans  dis- 
maved  the  Athenians  very  much,  because  they  drew 
greater  revenues  from  thence  than  from  Attica.  From 
that  time  Eubuea  became  a  prey  to  factions;  and  at 
the  time  of  which  we  are  now  speaking,  one  of  these 
factions  implored  the  assistance  of  Thebes,  and  the 
other  of  Athens.  At  first  the  Thebans  met  with  no 
obstacle,  and  easily  made  the  faction  they  espoused 
triumphant.  However,  at  the  arrival  of  the  Atheni- 
ans, matters  took  a  very  different  turn.  Though  thev 
were  very  much  offended  at  the  Euboeans,  who  had 
behaved  very  injuriously  towards  them,  nevertheless, 
sensibly  affected  with  the  great  danger  to  which  they 
were  ex  posed,  and  forgetting  their  private  resentments, 
they  immediately  gave  them  such  powerful  succour, 
both  by  sea  and  "land,  that  in  a  few  days  they  forced 
the  Thebans  to  retire.  And  now,  being  absolute  mas- 
ters of  the  i-land,  they  restored  to  the  inhabitants 
their  cities  and  liberty,  persuaded,  says  ^5Eschinesi,ain 
relating  this  circumstance,  that  justice  requires  we 
should  obliterate  the  remembrance  of  past  injuries, 
when  the  party  offending  repose  their  trust  in  the  of- 
fended. The  Athenians,  after  having  restored  Eubcea 
to  its  former  tranquillity,  retired,  without  desiring  any 
other  benefit  for  all  their  services,  than  the  glory  of 
having  appeased  the  troubles  of  that  island. 

But  they  did  not  always  behave  in  this  manner 
with  regard  to  other  states;  and  it  was  this  gave  rise 
to  the  tear  of  the  nllits,  of  which  I  have  spoken  else- 
where. 

Hitherto  Philip,  that  is,  during  the 

A.  M.  3646,  first  years  of  his  reign,  had  been  en- 
Ant.  J.  C.  358.  gaged  in  ridding  himself  of  his  com- 
petitors for  the  throne;  in  pacifying 
domestic  divisions,  in  repelling  the  attacks  of  his  fo- 
reign enemies,  and  in  rendering  them  incapable,  by 
his  frequent  victories,  of  troubling  him  in  the  posses- 
sion of  his  kingdom. 

But  he  is  now  going  to  appear  in  another  character. 
Sparta  and  Athens,  after  having  long  disputed  with 
each  other  the  empire  of  Greece,  had  weakened 
themselves  by  their  reciprocal  divisions.  This  cir- 
cumstance ha'd  given  Thebes  an  opportunity  of  rai- 
sing herself  to  the  supreme  power:  but  Thebes  having 
weakened  itself  by  the  wars  in  which  it  had  been  en. 
gaged  against  Sparta  and  Athens,  gave  Philip  an  oc- 
casion of  aspiring  also  in  his  turn  to  the  sovereignty 
of  Greece.  And  now,  as  a  politician  and  conqueror, 
he  resolves  how  he  may  best  extend  his  frontiers,  re- 
duce his  neighbours,  and  weaken  those  whom  he  is 
not  able  to  conquer  at  present;  how  he  may  intro- 
duce himself  into  the  affairs  of  Greece,  take  a  part  in 
its  intestine  feuds,  make  himself  its  arbiter,  join  with 
one  side  to  destroy  the  other,  in  order  to  obtain  the 
empire  over  all.  In  the  execution  of  this  great  de- 
»ign,  he  spares  neither  artifices,  open  force,  present*, 
nor  promise*.  He  employs  for  this  purpose  negotia- 
tions, treaties,  and  alliances,  and  each  of  them  singly 
in  such  a  manner  a?  he  judges  most  conducive  to  the 

«  Veil.  Pa'rre.  1.  i.  c.  4.  Thucyd.  Iviii  p.  613.  De- 
mostli.  pro  Ulesiph.  p.  489.  jEichin.  contra  Cte«iph.  p 
4X1. 

*  Ovx  tyevpirt'  !!**»»  »***>  T**  ^O-'l*  4**0WW*rtil«» 
ir  T$>  JTirnvSijvai 


success  of  his  design;  expediency  solely  determining 
him  in  the  choice  of  measures. 

We  shall  always  see  him  acting  under  the  second 
character,  in  all  the  steps  he  takes  thenceforth,  till  he 
assumes  a  third  and  last  character,  which  is,  preparing 
to  attack  the  great  king  of  Persia,  and  endeavouring 
to  become  the  avenger  of  Greece,  by  subverting  an 
empire  which  before  had  attempted  to  subject  it,  and 
which  had  always  continued  its  irreconcilable  enemy 
either  by  open  invasions  or  secret  intrigues. 

We  have  seen  that  Philip,  in  the  very  beginning  of 
his  reign,  had  seized  upon  Amphipolis,  because  it  wai 
well  situated  for  his  views;  but  that  to  Avoid  restoring 
it  to  the  Athenians,  who  claimed  it  as  one  of  their  colo- 
nies, he  had  declared  it  a  free  city.  But  at  this  time, 
being  no  longer  under  such  great  apprehension  from 
the  Athenians,  he  resumed  his  former  design  of  seiz- 
ing Amphipolis.  The  inhabitants  of  this  city  being 
threatened  with  a  speedy  siege,3  sent  ambassadors  to 
the  Athenians,  offering  to  put  themselves  and  their 
city  under  the  protection  of  Athens,  and  beseeching 
them  to  accept  the  keys  of  Amphipolis.  But  that 
republic  rejecteil  their  offer,  for  fear 
of  breaking  the  peace  they  had  con-  A.  M.  3tJ46. 
eluded  the  preceding  year  with  Phi-  Ant.  J.  C.  358. 
lip.  However,*  this  monarch  was 
not  so  delicate  in  this  point;  for  he  besieged  and  took 
Amphipolis  by  means  of  the  intelligence  he  carried 
on  in  the  city,  and  made  it  one  of  the  strongest  bar- 
riers of  his  kingdom.  Demosthenes,  in  his  orations, 
frequently  reproaches  the  Athenians  with  their  indo- 
lence on  this  occasion,  by  representing  to  them,  that 
had  they  acted  at  the  time  with  the  expedition  they 
ought,  they  would  have  saved  a  confederate  city,  and 
spared  themselves  a  multitude  of  misfortunes. 

Philip  had  promised  the  Athenians  to  give  up  Am* 
phipolis  into  their  hands,*  and  by  this  promise  had 
made  them  supine  and  inactive;  but  hedid  not  value 
himself  upon  keeping  his  word,  and  sincerity  was  not 
the  virtue  he  professed.  So  far  from  surrendering 
this  city,  he  also  possessed  himself  of  Pydna  6  and  of 
Poticlsa.*  The  Athenians  kept  n  garrison  in  the  lat- 
ter; these  he  dismissed  without  doing  them  the  least 
injury;  and  gave  up  this  city  to  the  Ol)  nthians,  to 
engage  them  in  his  interest. 

From  hence  he  proceeded  to  seize  Crenides,8  which 
the  Thracians  had  buill  two  years  before,  and  which 
he  afterwards  called  Philippi,  from  his  own  name.  It 
was  near  this  city,  afterwards  famous  for  the  defeat 
of  Brutus  and  Oassius,  that  he  opened  certain  gold 
mines,  which  every  year  produced  upwards  of  1009 
talents,  that  is,  about  144.00U/.  sterling;  aprodigioui 
sum  of  money  in  that  age.  By  this  means,  monej 
became  much  more  current  in  Maccdon  than  before, 
and  Philip  first  caused  the  golden  coin  bearing  his 
name  to  be  stamped  there,  which  outlived  his  mo- 
narchy.9 Superiority  of  finances  is  of  the  utmost  ad- 
vantage to  a  state;  and  no  prince  understood  them 
better  than  Philip,  or  neglected  them  less.  By  this 
fund  he  was  enabled  to  maintain  a  powerful  army  of 
foreigners,  and  to  bribe  a  number  of  creatures  in 
most  of  the  cities  of  Greece. 

Demosthenes  gavs,10  that  when  Greece  was  in  its 
most  flourishing  condition,  gold  and  silver  \ver« 


•  Drrmwth.  Olynth.  i.  p.  2  «  Dioi).  p.  412 
»  Died,  p.  412. 

•  Pydna,  a  citv  of  Macedon,  situated  on  the  cub" ancient 
ly  onlled  Sinus  Thennaious,  anil  now  Gulfodi  Saloniohi. 

'  Pi>tid:i-u.  another  ciiy  of  Macedonia,  on  Ihe  borderi  of 
iincicnt  Thrace.  It  was  but  sixty  stadia,  or  'hree  league 
from  Olvnthun. 

•  ni.pil.  p.  413 

•  Grains  Alexandra  repi  mnffno  fuit  ille 
Choerilus.  iiirult  in  qui  vrrsihus  et  male  nntig 
Reltulit  aceeptwt,  regale  numisma,  Philippe* 

Herat.  I.  ii.  Ep.  ad  Jiugtut 

f'lirrrilus  the  Pelliean  youth  approv'd. 
Him  lie  rewarded  weii,  and  him  he  lov'd  ; 
Hi*  dull,  uneven  veric,  hy  ?reat  good  fute, 
Got  him  his  favours,  and  a  fair  estate. 

Creech's  Hor 

Hie  «unt  numeral!  auni  trecentj  nuainii,  qni  vorant* 
Philippi.  flo'tt.in  Pm 

">  Philip,  iii.  p. 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


505 


ranked  in  the  number  of  prohibited  arms.  But  Phi- 
lip thought,  spoke,  and  acted  in  a  q  lite  diil'erent 
jianner.  It  is  said,1  that  having  one  day  consulted 
the  oracle  of  Delphi,  he  received  the  following  an- 
»wer: 

'A/'fxfia'C  X-j-scxiir.  ***.",  •*•    »i»T«   «f*T?(rnj. 
Make  coin  lliy  weapons,  and  ihou'll  ronquer  all. 

The  advice  of  the  priestess  became  his  rule,  and  he 
applied  it  with  great  success.  He  boasted,  that  he 
had  cairied  more  places  by  money  than  arms;  that  he 
never  forced  a  gate,  till  after  having  attempted  to 
open  it  with  a  golden  key;  and  that  he  did  not  think 
any  fortress  impregnable,  into  which  a  mule  laden 
with  silver  could  find  entrance.  It  has  been  «aid,  that 
he  was  a  merchant  rather  than  a  conqueror;  that  it 
*vas  not  Philip,  but  his  gold,  which  subdued  Greece, 
and  that  he  bought  its  cities  rather  than  took  them.' 
He  had  pensioners  in  all  the  commonwealths  of 
Greece  and  retained  those  in  his  pay  who  had  the 
greatest  share  in  the  public  affairs.  And,  indeed,  he 
was  lt«s  proud  of  the  success  of  a  battle  than  that  of 
a  negotiation,  well  knowing  that  neither  his  gentrali 
nor  liis  soldiers  could  share  in  the  honour  of  the  Litter. 

Philip  had  married  Olympias,  daughter  of  jVeop- 
tolemus.  The  latter  was  the  son  of  Alcetas,  king  of 
the  Molossi  or  Kpirus.  Olympias  bare  him  Alexan- 
der, surnained  the  Great,  who  was  born  at  Pella,  the 
capital  of  Macedonia,  the  first  ve»r  of  the  106th  Ol\  in- 
piad.  Philip,*  who  at  that  time  "was 

A.  M.  364.1.  absent  from  his  kingdom,  had  three 
Ant.  J.  C.  356.  very  agreeable  pieces  of  news  brought 
him  at  one  and  the  same  time;4 — that 
he  had  carried  the  prize  in  the  Olympic  games;  that 
Parmenio,  one  of  his  generals,  had  gainer!  a  great 
victory  over  the  JlUrians;  and  that  his  wife  was  de- 
livered of  a  son.  This  prince,*  terrified  at  so  signal 
a  happiness,  which  the  Heathens  thought  frequently 
the  omen  of  some  mournful  catastrophe,  cried  out, 
"Great  Jupiter!  in  return  for  so  many  blessings,  send 
me  as  soon  as  possible  some  slight  misfortune. 

We  may  form  a  judgment  of  Philip's  care  and  at- 
tention niih  regard  to  the  education  of  this  prince,' 
by  th=  letter  which  he  wrote  a  little  after  his  birth  to 
Aristotle  to  acquaint  him  even  then  that  he  had  made 
choice  of  hi'ii  for  his  son's  preceptor.  "  I  am  to  in- 
form you,"  said  he,  •'  that  I  have  a  son  born.  I  re- 
turn thanks  to  the  gods,  not  so  much  for  having  given 
him  to  me.as  forhavinggiven  him  me  while  Ari?totle  is 
living.  I  may  justly  promise  myself,  that  you  will 
make  him  a  successor  worthy  of  us  both,  and  a  king 
worthy  of  Macedonia."  What  noble  thoughts  arise 
from  the  perusal  of  this  letter,  far  different  from  the 
manners  of  the  present  age,  but  highly  worthy  of  a 
great  monarch  and  a  good  father!  I  shall  lea\"e  the 
reader  to  make  his  own  reflections  upon  it;  and  shall 
only  observe,  that  this  example  may  serve  as  a  lesson 
even  to  private  persons,  at  it  teaches  them  how  high- 
ly they  ought  to  value  a  good  master,  and  the  extra- 
ordinary care  they  should  take  to  find  such  a  one; 
for  every  son  is  an  Alexander  to  his  father.7  It  ap- 
pears that  Philip8  put  his  <on  very  earlv  under  Aris- 


•  Callidus  cmptor  Olynthi.    Juv.  Sot.  lii.  47. 
Philippus  majore  ex  pane  mercator  Greciap,  qoiin  victor. 

ral.Max.  lil..  vii.  c.  2. 

Diffidit  liq«tium 

Vorliis  vir  Maredo.  et  «ul>ruit  a^mulnt 

Ri'ii'S  muncribue.     Moral,  lib    hi.  O«l.  16. 

When  engines  and  when  aris  do  fail, 

Tl-.c  i'olilt-n  wedi'e  can  cleave  the  wall; 

Gold  Philip's  rivfc.  king*  o'erthrew.         Crieck't  Nor. 

>  Plul.  in  Alex.  p.  606.     Justin.  I.  xii.  c.  lii. 

•  Flutarrli  suppose*  that  this  new*  wu  brought   him  im- 
medi.iirly   a  ft  IT   the  taking  of  Polidtea  ;  but   lhi<  cicy   hid 
been  taken  two  year*  before. 

•  Plul.  in  Apophih.  p.  187. 

•  Aul.  Gel.  1.  ix.  c.  3. 

'  FrijHinus  Alexandrum  dari  nobi*.  im|msitum  f rpmio. 
di<rnum  lama  rura  infamem  :  (quanquam  suu*  cuique  dignui 
Ml.)  Quiittil.  I.  i.  r  1. 

•  An  Pbilippo*  Mscedontim  rex  Alexamu-o  filio  »uo  prima 
literurutn   elrmenta  Iradi  ab   Arifiliiiele  unmo  pjus  rial  is 
philiiMiphu  rnluis-^t.  aut  tile  nunonpisw-t  httc  officium.  si  non 
•  tudiorum  initia  a  porfeoliMimorjuoque  ontimo  tractari,  per- 
tint-ip  ad  summam  t.rcdidisset  J     tluintii.  ibid. 

VOL.  1.-64 


totle,  convinced  that  the  success  of  studies  depe.ids  om 
the  foundation  first  laid;  and  that  the  man  cannot  b« 
too  able,  who  i-  to  teach  the  principles  of  learning  and 
knowledge  in  the  manner  in  whiiii  they  ought  to  be 
inculcated. 

A  dtscription  of  Hie  .Macedonian  phalanx. 

The'  Macedonian  I0  phalanx  was  a  body  of  infan- 
try, consisting  of  16,000  heavy-armed  troops,  who 
were  always  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  battle.  Be- 
sides a  sword,  they  were  armed  with  a  >hielu,  and 
pike  or  spear, called  by  the  Greeks  lAFlllA  (*nri»- 
*n.)  This  pike  was  fourteen  cubits  long,  that  is, 
twentv-one  feet,  for  the  cubit  consists  of  a  loot  and  a 
half. 

The  phalanx  was  commonly  divided  into  ten  bat- 
talions, each  of  which  was  composed  of  1600  men, 
drawn  up  100  in  front,  and  sixteen  in  depth.  Some- 
times the  file  ot  sixletn  was  doubled,  and  sometimes 
divided,  according  as  the  occasion  required;  so  that 
the  phalanx  was  sometimes  but  eight,  and  at  other 
times  thirty-two,  deep:  but  its  usual  and  regular 
depth  was  of  sixteen. 

The  space  between  each  soldier  upon  a  march  was 
six  feet,  or,  which  is  the  same,  four  cubits;  and  the 
rank?  were  also  about  six  feet  asunder.  When  the 
phalanx  advanced  towards  an  enemy,  there  was  but 
three  feet  distance  between  tach  soldier,  and  the 
ranks  were  closed  in  proportion.  In  fine,  when  the 
phalanx  was  to  deceii  e  the  enemy,  the  men  who  com- 
posed it  drew  still  closer,  each  soldier  occupying 
only  the  space  of  a  foot  and  a  half. 

This  evidenilv  shows  the  different  space  which  the 
front  of  the  phalanx  took  up  in  these  three  cases,  sup- 
posing the  whole  to  consist  of  16,000  men,  at  sixteen 
deep,  and  consequently  always  1000  men  in  front. 
This  space  in  the  first"  case  was  6000  feet,  or  1000 
fathoms,  which  make  ten  furlongs,  or  half  a  [eagae. 
In  the  second  case  it  was  but  half  so  much,  and  took 
up  five  furlongs,  or  500  fathoms.11  And,  in  ihe  third 
case,  it  was  again  diminished  another  half,  and  ex- 
tended to  the  distance  of  only  two  furlongs  and  a 
half,  or  250  fathoms. 

Polvbius  examines  the  phalanx  in  the  second  case, 
in  which  it  marched  to  attack  the  enemy.  Each  sol- 
dier then  took  up  three  feet  in  breadth,  and  as  many 
in  depth.  We  observed  above,  that  their  pikes  were 
fourteen  cubits  long.  The  space  between  the  two 
hands,  a«i  that  part  of  the  pike  which  projtcted  be- 
yond the  right,  took  up  four;  and  consequently  the 
pike  advanced  ten  cubits  beyond  the  body  of  the  sol- 
dier who  carried  it.  This  being  suppofed,  the  pike* 
of  the  soldiers  placed  in  the  fifth  rank,  'vhDiii  I  will 
call  the  filths,  and  so  of  the  rest,  projected  two  cubits 
beyond  the  first  rank;  the  pikes  of  the  fourths  four 
those  of  the  thirds  six,  those  of  the  seconds  eight  cu- 
bit*; in  fine,  the  pikes  of  the  soldiers  who  formed  the 
first  rank  advanced  ten  cubits  towards  the  enemy. 

The  reader  will  easilv  conceive,  that  when  the  sol- 
diers who  composed  the  phalanx,  this  great  and  un- 
wieldy machine,  every  part  of  which  bristled  with 
pikes,  as  we  hare  seen,  moved  all  at  once,  presenting 
their  pikes  to  attack  the  enemy,  that  they  must  charge 
with  great  force.  The  soldiers  who  were  behind  the 
fifth  rank  held  their  pikes  raised,  but  inclining  a  little 
over  the  ranks  who  preceded  them;  thereby  forming 
a  kind  of  roof,  which  (not  to  mention  their  shields) 
secured  them  from  the  darts  discharged  at  a  distance, 
which  fell  without  doing  them  any  hurt. 

The  soldiers  of  all  the  other  ranks  beyond  the  fifth, 
could  not  indeed  engage  against  the  enemy,  nor 
reach  them  with  their  pikes,  but  then  they  cave  great 
assistance  in  battle  to  those  in  the  front  of  them. 
For  by  supporting  them  behind  with  their  utmost 
strength,  and  pressing  upon  their  backs,  they  increased 
in  a  prodigious  manner  the  strength  and  impetuosity 
of  the  on<et;  they  gave  their  comrades  such  nimnesi 
and  stability  as  rendered  them  immovable  in  attack*, 


*  PoKh.  1.  xvii.  p  704—71)7.  Id.  1.  xii.  p.  GG4.  ^Eliaa. 
de  insirucnd.  acit-b 

«•  Decem  el  *ex  millia  pedilam  more  Macodonum  ariruiti 
fuere,  qui  I'halangita:  apprllabamur.  lire  mt-dm  9rit>4  fuit 
in  fronle,  in  decem  pane*  divu>c.  Tit.  Lit.  l.ixxtik  n.  46 

«'  Five  itadia. 

2  Z 


500 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


•nd  at  the  same  time  deprived  them  of  every  hope 
or  opportunity  of  flight  by  the  rear;  so  that  they  were 
under  the  necessity  either  to  conquer  or  die. 

And  indeed  Polybius  acknowledges,  that  as  long  as 
the  soldiers  of  the  phalanx  preserved  their  disposition 
and  order  as  a  phalanx,  that  is,  as  long  as  they  kept 
their  ranks  in  the  close  order  we  have  described,  it 
was  impossible  for  an  enemy  either  to  sustain  its 
weight,  or  to  open  and  break  it.  And  this  he  demon- 
strates to  us  in  a  plain  and  sensible  manner.  The 
Roman  soldiers  (for  it  is  those  whom  he  compares  to 
the  Greeks  in  the  place  in  question,)  says  he,  take  up, 
in  fight,  three  feet  each.  And  as  they  must  neces- 
sarily move  about  very  much  either  to  shift  their 
bucklers  to  the  right  and  left  in  defending  themselves, 
or  to  thrust  with  the  point,  or  to  strike  with  the 
edge  of  their  swords,  we  must  be  obliged  to  allow 
the  distance  of  three  feet  between  every  soldier. 
Thus  every  Roman  soldier  takes  up  six  feet,  that  is, 
twice  as  much  space  as  one  of  the  phalanx,1  and 
consequently  opposes  singly  two  soldiers  of  the  first 
rank;  and  for  the  same  reason  is  obliged  to  make 
bead  against  ten  pikes,  as  we  have  before  observed. 
Now  it  is  impossible  for  a  single  soldier  to  break,  or 
force  his  way  through  ten  pikes. 

This  Livy  shows  evidently  in  a  few  words,8  where 
he  describes  in  what  manner  the  Romans  were 
repulsed  by  the  Macedonians  at  the  siege  of  a  city. 
The  consul,  says  he,3  made  his  cohorts  to  advance,  in 
order,  if  possible,  to  penetrate  the  Macedonian  pha- 
lanx. When  the  latter,  keeping  very  close  together, 
had  advanced  forward  their  long  pikes,  the  Romans 
having  discharged  ineffectually  their  javelins  against 
the  Macedonians,  whom  their  shields  (pressed  very 
close  together)  covered  like  a  roof  and  a  tortoise; 
the  Romans,  I  say,  drew  their  swords.  But  it  was 
not  possible  for  them  either  to  come  to  a  close 
engagement,  or  to  cut  or  break  the  pikes  of  the 
enemy;  and  if  they  happened  to  cut  or  break  any 
one  of  them,  the  broken  piece  of  the  pike  served  as 
a  point;  so  that  this  hedge  of  pikes,  with  which  the 
front  of  the  phalanx  was  armed,  still  existed. 

Faulus  .(Emilias*  owned,  that  in  the  buttle  with 
Perseus,  the  last  king  of  Macedon,  this  rampart  of 
brass  arid  forest  of  pikes,  impenetrable  to  his  legions, 
filled  him  with  terror  and  astonishment.  He  did  not 
remember,  he  said,  ever  to  have  seen  any  thing  so 
formidable  as  this  phalanx;  and  often  afterwards 
declared,  that  this  dreadful  spectacle  made  so  strong 
an  impression  upon  him,  as  almost  to  induce  him  to 
despair  of  the  victory. 

From  what  has  been  said  above,  it  follows  that 
the  Macedonian  phalanx  was  invincible:  nevertheless 
we  find  from  history,  that  the  Macedonians  and  their 
phalanx  were  vanquished  and  subdued  by  the  Ro- 
mans. It  was  invincible,  replies  Polybius,  to  long  as 
it  continued  a  phalanx,  hut  this  happened  very  rare- 
ly; for  in  order  to  its  being  so,  it  required  a  fiat  even 
spot  of  ground  of  large  extent,  without  cither  tree, 
bush,  intrcnchment,  ditch,  valley,  hill,  or  river.  Now 
we  seldom  find  a  spot  of  ground  of  this  description, 
of  fifteen,  twenty,  or  more  furlongs5  in  extent;  for 
•o  large  a  space  is  necessary  for  containing  a  whole 
army,  of  which  the  phalanx  n  but  a  part. 

But  let  us  suppose  (it  is  Pulybius  who  still  speak?,) 
that  a  tract  of  ground,  exactly  such  ns  could  be  wi*h- 


t  It  was  before  raid,  that  each  soldier  of  the  phalanx  took 
t),innlv  three  feet  when  he  advanced  to  attack  the  enemy, 
and  hut  half  so  rnucli  when  he  wniied  his  ruining  up.  In 
this  last  case,  each  Koman  soldier  was  obliged  to  make  bead 
against  twenty  pikes. 

*  l.iv.  I.  xxxii.  n.  17. 

•  Oohortes  invicrm  sub  signis,  qu«B  cnneum  Macodonum 
(Phalangcm  ipsi  vocant.)  si  ppxsent,  vi  perrumperent,  emit- 
trliai  —  1,'bi    conl'erti    hustns    inaentis    lonsitudmis   j>r«B    sc 
Marc  Jones  ohji-ciKsciit.   velut  in  constructam  dcnuiiale  cly- 
neorum  testudinem,  Romani  pilis  nequiequam  emixitii.  cum 
itrinxiKiKMit   j:ladi<>s;  nequi'  com-rcdi   pfDpft*,  neqne  prSk'ci- 
dere  hasta*  potcrant:  et,  si  quas  meMissMl  nut  priefr-^i  i. 
•nut.  hasiilia  fragmvnio  ipso  aruto  inter  spicula  intcgrarun. 
kutarum,  velut  vallum  eiplebant. 

«  Plut   in  Haul  jEmil.  p  '2H5. 

i  Three  qr'irtem  of  a  league,  or  a  league,  or  perhaps 
•ore. 


ed,  were  found;  yet  of  what  use  could  a  body  of 
troops,  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  a  phalanx  be,  should 
the  enemy,  instead  of  advancing  forward  and  offering 
battle,  send  out  detachments  to  lay  waste  the  country, 
plunder  the  cities,  or  cut  ort  the  convoys?  In  case  the 
enemy  should  come  to  a  battle,  the  general  need  onlv 
command  part  of  his  front  (the  centre,  for  instance; 
designedly  to  give  way  and  My,  that  the  phalanx  may 
have  an  opportunity  of  pursuing  them.  In  this  ca«e, 
it  is  manifest  the  phalanx  would  be  broken,  and  a 
large  cavity  made  in  it,  in  which  the  Romans  would 
not  fail  to  throw  themselves,  in  order  to  charge  the 
phalanx  in  Hank  on  the  right  and  left,  at  the  same 
time  that  those  soldiers  who  are  pursuing  the  enemy, 
may  be  attacked  in  the  same  manner. 

This  reasoning  of  Polybius  appears  to  me  very 
clear,  and  at  the  same  time  gives  us  a  very  just  idea 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  ancients  fought;  which 
certainly  ought  to  have  its  place  in  history,  as  it  u 
an  essential  part  of  it. 

Hence  appears,  as  M.  Bossuet6  observes  after 
Polvbius,  the  difference  between  the  Macedonian 
phalanx  7  formed  of  one  large  body,  very  thick  on  all 
sides,  which  was  obliged  to  move  all  at  once,  and  the 
Roman  army  divided  into  small  bodies,  which  for 
that  reason  were  nimbler,  and  consequently  more 
calculated  for  movements  of  every  kind.  The  pha- 
lanx cannot  long  preserve  its  natural  property  (these 
are  Polybius's  words,)  that  is  to  say,  its  solidity  and 
thickness,  because  it  requires  peculiar  spots  of  ground, 
and  those,  as  it  were,  made  purposely  for  it;  and 
that  for  want  of  such  spots,  it.  encumbers,  or  rather 
breaks  itselt  by  its  own  motion;  not  to  mention,  that 
if  once  broken,  the  soldiers  who  compose  it  can 
never  rally  again.  Whereas  the  Roman  army,  by  its 
division  into  small  bodies,  takes  advantage  of  all 
places  and  situations,  and  suit*  itself  to  them.  It  is 
united  or  separated  at  pleasure.  It  files  off,  or  draws 
together,  without  the  least  difficulty.  It  can  very 
easily  form  detachments,  rally,  and  go  through  every 
kind  of  evolution,  either  in  the  whole  or  in  part,  ai 
occasion  may  require.  In  fine,  it  has  a  greater  variety 
of  motions,  and  consequently  more  activity  and 
strength  than  the  phalanx. 

This8  enabled  Paulus  ^milius9  to  gain  his  cele- 
brated victory  over  Perseus.  He  first  had  attacked 
the  phalanx  in  front.  But  the  Macedonians  (keeping 
very  close  together.)  holding  their  pikes  with  both 
hands,  and  presenting  this  iron  rampart  to  the  enemy, 
could  not  be  either  broken  or  forced  in  an}'  manner, 
and  so  made  a  dreadful  slaughter  of  the  Romans. 
But  at  last,  the  unevenness  of  the  ground  and  the 
great  extent  of  the  front  of  the  battle  not  allowing 
the  Macedonians  to  continue  in  all  parts  that  range 
of  shields  and  pikes,  Paulus  .•f'.milms  observed  that 
the  phalanx  was  obliged  to  leave  several  openings 
and  intervals.  Upon  this,  he  attacked  them  at  these 
openings,  not  as  before,  in  front,  and  in  a  general 
onset,  but  by  detached  bodies,  and  in  different  parts 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  By  this  means  the  pha- 
lanx was  broken  in  an  instant,  and  its  whole  force. 


•  Discourse  on  Universal  History. 

'  Statarius  uterque  miles,  nrdinri  servans ;  sed  illn  pha 
Innx  immobilis,  et  unius  "eiieris:  Romana  anies  ilistiuctior 
ex  pluribus  parlibus  consult. s ;  facilis  partienti,  i|uurunn|U« 
c|in-  rssei,  fucilis  junsenli.  Tit.  Lit.  I.  i.x.  n.  111. 

Erant  pleraque  sylvestria  circa,  incommoJa  plmbm^i 
maxime  Mucedonurn.  quoe,  nisi  ubi  praloivis  Inistis  velut 
vallum  ante  clypeot  objerit,  (quod  ut  fiat,  libcio  rampo  opui 
est,)  nullius  aiimnclum  us-fis  i-nt.  Id.  I.  xxxi  n.  :fc>. 

•  Plutarch,  in  Paul.  Km\\.  p.  2(55.  2C6.    Liv.  I.  xliv.  n.  41 

•  Secunda    lejrio   immissa    disnipavit    pha'nnpcin  :    neque 
ulla  eviiJent'or  causa  victoriie  fuit,  fjunm  quod  mui'a  passim 
pr;cli.i    erant,   nure    tluciuamem   tiirbarum    primo.    ilriude 
disjcnerur.l  phulaiigem  ;  cujus  cnnfertie, nt  inlenlis  horrentit 
bust  is,    intolerabiles    vires   eunt.      Si    rarpiiin    iit'srcdien.'lo 
riicumngere    immohilcm    longiliidine   et    sravitatc    lin-i.im 
CHUB-;,  nonfusa  sirue  irnplicantur :  si  roro  lib  lalere,  nut  ab 
ter^o,   ai'quiil  tumuItU'  increpuit,  ruinw   modn  lurban'.ur: 
siciit  turn  advermis  ealervatim   irruentcs  Romanos,  et  inter- 
ruptS  .-nb!n"arlara  ac;e.  obviam  ire  c->peuanlur:  et  K.nnani, 
qi.aciim.iiio  d-m  intervslla  fluent,  ip«inuabaiit  (»Hine*  suof 
Ciui  PI  urivor»5  Kck  in  fronten  *-lv>.Tsiln  ir-s,  uv'am  ;>ha- 
la.'?i-n  'or-iu  Ti.-sei.-«.- 'n(:-iis.-»n:  K   hs.itij.  net  coulenaas 
acitan -•ui'.inuiiKX!!.'.     2V- iJc 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


507 


whi.  h  consisted  merely  in  its  union  and  the  impres- 
li.-n  it  made  all  at  once,  was  entirely  lost,  and  Paulus 
^inilius  gained  the  victory. 

The  same  Polyhius,1  in  the  twelfth  book  above 
cited,  describes  in  few  words  the  order  of  battle 
observed  by  the  cavalry.  According  to  him,  a 
squadron  of  horse  consisted  of  800,  generally  drawn 
up  100  in  front,  and  eight  deep;  consequently  such  a 
squadron  as  this  took  up  a  furlong,  or  100  fathoms, 
allowing  the  distance  of  one  fathom,  or  six  feet,  for 
each  horseman;  a  space  which -he  must  necessarily 
have,  to  make  his  evolutions  and  to  rally.  Ten 
squadrons,  or  8000  horse,  occupied  ten  times  as  much 
ground;  that  is,  ten  furlongs,  or  1000  fathoms  which 
make  about  half  a  league. 

From  what  has  been  said,  the  reader  may  judge 
how  much  ground  an  army  took  up,  by  considering 
the  number  of  infantry  and  cavalry  of  which  it 
consisted. 

SECTION*  II.— THE  SACRED  WAR.  SEQUEL  OF 
THE  HISTORY  OF  PHI  UP.  HE  ENDEAVOURS  IN 
VAIN  TO  POSSESS  HIMSEU  OF  THE  PASS  OF 
THERMOPYLAE. 

DISCORD,2  which  perpetually  fo- 
A.  M.  3649.  mented  among  the  Greeks  disposi- 
Ant.  J-  C.  355.  tions  not  very  remote  from  an  open 
rupture,  broke  out  with  great  vio- 
lence upon  account  of  the  Phocaeans.  That  people, 
who  inhabited  the  territories  adjacent  to  Delphi, 
ploughed  up  certain  lands  that  were  consecrated  to 
Apollo,  which  were  thereby  profaned.  Immediately 
the  people  in  the  neighbourhood  exclaimed  against 
them  as  guilty  of  sacrilege;  some  from  a  spirit  of 
sincerity,  and  others  to  cover  their  private  revenge 
with  the  pious  pretext  of  zeal  for  religion.  The  war 
that  broke  out  on  this  occasion  was  called  The 
Sacred  IVar,  as  undertaken  from  a  religious  motive, 
and  lasted  ten  years.  The  people  guilty  of  this 
profanation  were  summoned  to  appear  before  the 
Auiphictvons,  or  states-general  of  Greece;  and  the 
whole  affair  being  duly  examined,  the  Phocaeans 
were  declared  sacrilegious,  and  sentenced  to  pay  a 
heavy  fine. 

Philomelus,  one  of  their  chief  citizens,  a  bold  man, 
and  of  great  authority,  having  proved  by  some  verse 
in  Homer,'  that  the  sovereignty  of  the  temple  of 
Delphi  belonged  anciently  to  the  Phocaeans,  inflames 
them  against  this  decree,  induces  them  to  take  up 
arm;,  and  is  appointed  their  general.  He  immediately 
proceeds  to  Sparta  to  gain  the  Lacedemonians  in  his 
interest.  They  were  very  much  disgusted  at  a 
sentence  which  the  Ampfiictyons  had  pronounced 
against  them,  at  the  solicitation  of  the  Thebans,  by 
which  they  had  been  also  condemned  to  pay  a  fine, 
for  having  seized  upon  the  citadel  of  Thebes  by  fraud 
and  violence.  Archidamas  one  of  the  kings  of 
Sparta,  gave  Philomelus  a  handsome  reception.  This 
monarch,  however,  did  not  yet  dare  to  declare  openly 
in  favour  of  the  Phocaeans,  but  promised  to  a<?i-t  Mm 
with  money,  and  to  furnish  him  secretly  with  troops, 
as  he  accordingly  did. 

Philomelas,  on  his  return  home,  raises  soldiers,  and 
begins  by  attacking  the  temple  of  Delphi,  of  which 
he  possessed  himself  without  any  great  difficulty,  the 
inhabitants  of  the  country  making  but  a  weak  re- 
sistance. The  Locrians,  H  people  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Delphi,  took  arms  against  him,  but  were 
defeated  in  several  rencounters.  Philomelug,  en- 
couraged by  these  first  successes,  increased  his  troop* 
daily,  and  put  himself  in  a  condition  to  carry  on  his 
enterprise  with  vigour.  Accordingly  he  enters  the 
tempi*1,  tears  from  the  pillars  the  decree  of  the 
Amphictyoni  against  the  Phocaeans,  publishes  all 
over  the  country  that  he  has  no  design  to  seize  the 
riches  of  i.he  Imiple,  and  that  his  sole  view  is  to 
restore  to  the  Phocaeans  their  ancient  rights  and 
privileges.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to  have  a 
sanction  from  the  god  who  presided  at  Delphi,  and 
to  receive  such  an  answer  from  the  oracle  as  might 


i  Lib.  xii.  p.  068. 
*  Iliad.  1.  ii.  v.  516. 


»  Diod.  1.  xvi.  p.  425—433. 


be  favourable  to  him.  The  prientess  at  first  refused 
to  co-operate  on  this  occasion;  but,  being  terrified 
by  his  menaces,  she  answered,  that  the  god  permitted 
him  to  do  whatever  he  should  think  proper;  a  cir 
cumstance  which  he  took  care  to  publish  to  all  the 
neighbouring  nations. 

The  affair  was  now  become  seri- 
ous. The  Amphictyons  meeting  A.  M.  3650. 
a  second  time,  a  resolution  was  Ant.  J.  C.  354. 
formed  to  declare  war  against  the 
Phocaeans.  Most  of  the  Grecian  nations  engaged  in 
this  quarrel,  and  sided  with  the  one  or  the  other 
party.  The  Boeotians,  the  Locrians,  The»salians, 
and  several  other  neighbouring  people,  declared  in 
favour  of  the  god;  whilst  Sparta,  Athens,  and  some 
other  cities  of  Peloponnesus  joined  with  the  Photae- 
ans.  Philomelus  had  not  yet  touched  the  treasures 
of  the  temple;  but  being  afterwards  not  so  scrupulous, 
he  believed  that  the  riches  of  the  gods  could  not  b« 
better  employed  than  in  the  deity's  defence  (for  he 
gave  this  specious  name  to  hn  sacrilegious  attempt;) 
and  being  enabled  by  this  fresh  supply,  to  double 
the  pay  of  his  soldiers,  he  raised  a  very  considerable 
body  of  troops. 

Several  battles  were  fought,  and  the  success  for 
some  time  seemed  equal  on  both  sides.  Every  body 
knows  how  much  religious  wars  are  to  be  dreaded; 
and  the  prodigious  length  to  which  a  false  zeal,  when 
veiled  with  so  venerable  a  name,  is  apt  to  go.  The 
Thebans  having  in  a  rencounter  taken  several  prison- 
ers, condemned  them  all  to  die  as  sacrilegious 
wretches,  who  were  excommunicated.  The  Phocae- 
ans did  the  same  by  way  of  reprisal.  The  latter  had 
at  first  gained  several  advantages;  but  having  been 
defeated  in  a  great  battle,  Philomelus  their  leader, 
being  closely  attacked  upon  an  eminence  from  which 
there  was  no  retreating,  defended  himself  fora  long 
time  with  invincible  bravery,  which,  however,  not 
availing,  he  threw  himself  headlong  from  a  rock,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  torments  which  he  had  reason  to 
dread,  if  he  should  fall  alive  into  the  hands  of  his 
enemies.  Onomarchus  his  brother  was  his  successor, 
and  took  upon  him  the  command  of  the  forces. 

This  new  general  had  soon  levied 
a  fresh  army,  the  advantageous  pay        A.M.  3651. 
he    offered    procuring    him    soldiers    Ant.  J.  C.  353. 
from   all   sides.     He  also  by  dint  of 
money    brought   over   several    chiefs   of   the    other 
party,  and  prevailed  upon  them  either  to  retire,  or 
to  act  with   remissness,  by    which  he  gained  great 
advantages. 

In  this  general  movement  of  the  Greeks,  who  had 
taken  up  arms  in  favour  either  of  the  Phocaeans  or  of 
the  Thebans,  Philip  thought  it  most  consistent  with 
his  interest  to  remain  neuter.  It  was  consistent  with 
the  policy  of  this  ambitious  prince,  who  had  little 
regard  for  religion  or  the  interest  of  Apollo,  but  was 
always  intent  upon  his  own,  not  to  engage  in  a  war 
by  which  he  could  not  reap  the  least  benefit;  and  to 
take  advantage  of  a  juncture,  in  which  all  Greece, 
employed  and  divided  by  a  great  war,  gave  him  an 
opportunity  to  extend  his  frontiers,  and  push  bis 
conquests  without  any  apprehension  of  bpOOMtion. 
He  was  also  well  pleased  to  sec  both  parties  weaken 
and  consume  each  other,  as  he  should  thereby  be 
enabled  to  fall  upon  them  afterwards  with  greater 
ease  and  advantage. 

Being  desirous  of  subjecting  Thrace,*  and  of secu- 
roring  the  conquests  he  had  already 
made  in  it,  he  determined  to  possess  A.  M.  3S51. 
himself  of  Methone.  a  small  city,  in-  Ant.  J.  C.  353. 
capable  of  supporting  itself  by  its 
own  strength,  but  which  gave  him  disquiet,  and  ob- 
structed his  designs,  whenever  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
his  enemies.  Accordingly  he  besieged  that  city,  made 
himself  master  of  it  and  "razed  it.  It  was  bel'ore  this 
city  that  he  lost  one  of  his  eyes,  by  a  very  singular 
accident.*  Aster  of  AmphipoTis  had  offered  his  ser- 
vice to  Philip  as  so  excellent  a  marksman,  that  he 
could  bring  down  birds  in  their  most  rapid  flight. 
The  monarch  made  this  answer,  "  Well,  I  will  take 


«  Diod.  p.  434. 


•  Buidsj  in  K*(»» 


508 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP 


you  into  my  service  when  1  make  war  upon  starlings;" 
which  answer  slung  the  cross-bow-man  to  the  quirk. 
A  repnrtie  proves  often  of  fatal  consequence  to  him 
who  iiuiki-!-  it;  and  it  is  no  small  merit  to  know  wlien 
to  hold  ont's  tongue.  Aster  having  thrown  himself 
into  tlie  city,  lie  let  lly  an  arrow,  on  which  was  writ- 
ten, '•  To  Philip's  right  eye,"  and  gave  him  a  most 
cruel  proof  that  he  was  a  good  marksman;  for  it  hit 
him  in  his  right  eye.  Philip  sent  him  back  the  same 
arrow  with  this  inscription,  "  If  Philip  lakes  the  city, 
he  will  hang  up  Aster;"  and  accordingly  he  was  as 
good  as  his  word. 

A  skilful  surgeon  drew  the  arrow  out  of  Philip's 
eye  uith  so  much  art  and  dexterity .'  that  not  the  least 
scar  remained;  and  though  he  could  not  save  his  eye, 
he  yet  took  away  the  blemish.  But  nevertheless  this 
monarch  WHS  so  weak,*  as  to  be  angrv  whenever  any 
person  happened  to  let  slip  the  word  Cyclops,  or  even 
the  word  eye,  in  his  presence.  Men,  howe\er,  seldom 
blush  for  an  honourable  imperfection.  A  L;icedtemo- 
nian  woman  thought  more  like  a  man,  when,  to  con- 
sole her  son  for  a  glorious  wound  that  had  lamed 
him,  she  said,  "  .Now,  son,  every  step  you  take  will 
put  you  in  mind  of  your  valour." 

A'fter  the  taking  of  Methone,8  Philip,  ever  studious 
either  to  weaken  his  enemies  by  new  conquests,  or 
gain  new  friends  by  doing  them  some  important  ser- 
vice, inarched  into  Thessaly,  which  had  implored  his 
assistance  against  the  tyrants.  The  liberty  of  that 
country  seemed  now  secure,  since  Alexander  of  Phe- 
rae  was  no  more.  Nevertheless,  the  brothers  of  his 
wife  Thebe,  who  in  concert  with  her,  had  murdered 
him,  grown  weary  of  having  for  some  time  acted  the 
part  of  deliverers,  revived  his  tyranny,  and  oppressed 
the  Thessalians  with  a  new  yoke.  Lycophron,  the  el- 
dest of  the  three  brothers,  who  succeeded  Alexander, 
had  strengthened  himself  by  the  protection  of  the 
Phocaeans.  Onomarchus,  their  leader,  brought  him 
a  numerous  body  of  forces,  and  at  first  gained  a  con- 
siderable advantage  over  Philip:  but  engaging  him  a 
Second  time,  he  was  entirely  defeated,  and  his  army 
routed.  Tho  flying  troops  were  pursued  to  the  sea- 
shore. Upward's  of  6000  men  were  killed  on  the  spot, 
among  whom  was  Onomarchus,  whose  body  was  hung 
upon  a  gallows:  and  3000  who  were  taken  prisoners, 
were  thrown  into  the  sea  by  Philip's  order,  as  so  ma- 
ny sacrilegious  wretches,  the  professed  enemies  of  re- 
ligion. Lycophron  delivered  up  the  city  of  Pherae, 
and  restored  Thessaly  to  its  liberty  by  abandoning  it. 
By  the  happy  success  of  this  expedition,  Philip  AC- 
quired  for  ever  the  affection  of  the  Thessalians,  whose 
excellent  cavalry,  joined  to  the  Macedonian  phalanx, 
had  afterwards  so  great  a  share  in  his  victories,  and 
those  of  his  son. 

1'haj  llus,  who  succeeded  his  brother  Onomarchus, 
finding- the  same  resources  as  he  had  done,  in  the  im- 
mense riches  of  the  temple,  raised  a  numerous  army: 
and,  supported  by  the  troops  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
Athenians  and  other  allies,  whom  he  paid  very  large- 
ly, went  into  Bceotia.nnd  invaded  theTheban's.  For 
a  long  time  success  and  defeat  were  nearly  equal  on 
bolh  sides,;  but  at  last  Phnylltis  being  attacked  with 
a  sudden  and  violent  diste'mper,  after  suffering  the 
mo-l  crui-l  torment!!,  ended  his  life  in  a  manner  wor- 
thy of  his  impieties  and  sacrilegious  actions.  Phale- 
cus,  then  very  young,  the  son  of  Onomarchus,  was 
placed  in  his  room;  and  Mnaseas,  a  man  of  great  ex- 
perience. Hud  strongly  attached  to  his  family,  was  ap- 
pointed hi*  counsellor. 

The  new  leader,  trending  in  the  slrps  of  his  prede- 
cessors, plundered  the  temple  as  they  had  done,  and 
enriched  t.ll  his  friends.  At  last  the  Phocaeans  open- 
eii  their  eyes,  and  appointed  commissioner*  to  call 
those  to  account  who  had  any  concern  in  the  public 
moneys.  Upon  this,  Phnlecns  was  deposed;  and,  af- 
ter an  exact  inquiry,  it  WAS  found,  that  fron  tin  b«- 
pinn'mg  of  the  war  there  had  oeen  taken  out  of  the 
temple  upwards  of  10.000  talents;  that  is,  about  1,- 
500,000*.  Philip,  after  having  freed 
A.  M.  30.52.  the  Thessal'iRns,  resolved  to  carry  his 
Ant.  J.C.3S2.  arms  into  Phocis.  This  is  his  "first 


i  Plin.  I.  vii.  c.  37. 
•  Uiod.  n.  432— 435 


*  Domct,  I'liuler,  de  Elor.u.c.  iii. 


attempt  to  get  footing  in  Greece,  and  tc  have  • 
share  in  the  gelieral  affairs  of  the  Greeks,  from 
which  the  kings  of  Macedon  had  always  bee.n  ex 
eluded  as  foreigners.  With  this  view,  upon  pre- 
tence of  going  over  into  Phocis,  in  order  to  punish 
the  sacrilegious  Phncaeans,  he  marches  towards  Ther- 
mopylae, to  possess  himself  of  a  pass  which  gave  him 
a  free  passage  into  Greece,  and  especially  into  Attica. 
The  Athenians,  upon  hearing  of  a  march  which  might 
prove  of  the  most  fatal  consequence  to  them,  hasted 
to  Thermopylae,  and"  possessed  themselves  very  sea- 
sonably of  this  important  pass,  which  Philip  did  not 
dare  attempt  to  force;  so  that  he  was  obliged  to 
turn  back  into  Macedonia. 

SECTION    III.— DEMOSTHENES,  UPON  PHILIP'S  AT- 
TE.Ml'T  ON  THERMLPV I.X.,  HARANGUES THE  ATHK- 
NIANS,    AND    ANIMATES     THEM     AGAINST    THAT 
PRINCE.      LITTLE  REGARD  IS  PAIDTO  HIS  ADVICE. 
OI.YNTHUS,  UPON  THE  POINT  OF  BEING  UESIEGED 
HV  PHIIJP.  ADDRESSES  THE  ATHENIANS  Fi,R  SUC- 
COUR.     DEMOSTHENES  ENDEAVOURS  1JY  HIS  ORA- 
TIONS TO  ROUSE  THEM   FROM   THKIR    LETHARGY. 
THEY    SEND   liUT   A    VERY    WEAK   SUCCOUR,  AND 
PHIUP  AT  LENGTH  TAKES  THE  PI.ACE. 
As  we  shall   soon    see   Philip  engaged  against  the 
Athenians,  and    as  they,  by  the   strong  exhortations 
and  prudent  counsels  of  Demosthenes,  will  become  his 
greatest  enemies,  and  the  most  powerful  oppojers  of 
his  ambitious  designs,  it  may  not  be  improper,  before 
we  tnter  upon  that  part  of  the  history,  lo  give- a  short 
account  of  the  state  of  Athens,  and  of  the  disposition 
of  the  citizens  at  that  lime. 

We  must  not  form  a  judgment  of  the  chatacter  of 
the  Athenians,  in  the  iige  of  which  we  are  now  speak- 
ing, from  that  of  their  ancestors,  in  the  limes  of  the 
battles  of  Marathon  and  Salamis,  from  whose  virtue 
they  had  extremely  degenerated.  They  were  no 
longer  the  same  men,  and  had  no  longer  the  same 
maxims  nor  the  same  manners.  They  no  longer  dis- 
covered the  same  teal  for  the  public  good,  the  sama 
application  to  the  a  Hairs  of  the  state,  the  same  cou- 
rage in  enduring  the  fatigues  of  war  by  sea  HIH!  land, 
the  same  care  in  managing  the  revenues,  the  sam« 
willingness  to  receive  salutary  advice,  the  same  dis- 
cernment in  the  choice  of  generals  of  the  armies,  and 
of  the  magistrates  to  whom  they  intrusted  the  admi- 
nistration of  the  state.  To  these  happy,  these  glori- 
ous dispositions,  had  succeeded  a  fondness  for  repose, 
and  an  indolence  with  regard  to  public  affairs ;  an 
aversion  for  military  labours,  which  they  now  left  en- 
tirely to  mercenary  troops;  and  a  profusion  of  the 
public  treasures  in  games  and  shows;  a  love  for  the 
flattery  which  their  orators  lavished  upon  them;  and 
an  unhappy  facility  in  conferring  public  offices  by  in- 
trigue and  cabal:  all  the  usual  forerunnr rs  of  the  ap- 
proaching ruin  of  stales.  Such  was  the  situation  of 
Athens  at  the  lime  when  (he  king  of  Macedon  began 
to  turn  his  arms  against  Greece. 

We  have  seen  that  Philip,  after  va- 
rious conquests,  had  attempted  to  ad-  A.  M.  3652, 
vance  as  far  as  Phocis,  but  in  vain;  Ant.  J.  C.  352 
because  the  Athenians,  justly  alarmed 
at  the  impending  danger,  had  stopped  him  al  the.  pass 
of  Thermopylae.  Demosthenes,*  taking  advantage  of 
so  favourablea  disposition, mounted  the  tribunal,  in  or 
der  to  «et  before  them  a  lively  image  of  the  impend- 
ing danger  with  which  they  were  menaced  by  tha 
boundless  ambition  of  Philip;  and  to  convince  them 
of  the  absolute  necessity  they  were  under,  fiorn  hence, 
to  npply  the  most  speedy  remedies.  Now,  as  the 
success  of  his  arms  and  the  rapidity  of  his  progress 
spread  throughout  Athens  a  kind  of*terror,  bordering 
very  near  upon  despair,  the  orator,  by  a  wonderful 
artifice  first  endeavours  to  revive  their  cournge,  and 
as'  fines  their  calamities  solely  to  their  sloth  and  in 
dolence.  For,  if  they  hitherto  had  acquitted  them 
selves  of  their  duty,  and  that  in  spite  of  their  activity 
and  their  utmost  efforts  Philip  had  prevailed  ovei 
them,  they  then  indeed  would  not  have  the  least  ro 
source  or  hope  left.  But  in  this  oration,  and  all  thoM 

«  Demofthi  1  Philip. 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


509 


which  follow,  Demosthenes  insist*  strongly,  that  the 
aggrandizement  of  Philip  is  wholly  owing  to  the  su- 
pineness  of  the  Athenians;  and  that  it  is  this  supine- 
ness  which  makes  him  bold,  daring,  and  swells  him 
'vith  such  a  spirit  of  haughtiness,  as  even  dares  to  in- 
tuit the  Athenians. 

"  See,"  says  Demosthenes  to  them,  speaking  of  Phi- 
lip, "  to  what  a  height  the  arrogance  of  that  man  ri- 
ses, who  will  not  suffer  you  to  choose  either  action  or 
repose:  but  employ »  menaces,  and,  as  fame  says,  speaks 
in  the  most  insolent  terms;  and  not  contented  with 
his  first  conquests,  which  are  incapable  of  satiating 
his  lust  of  dominion,  engages  every  day  in  some  new- 
enterprise.  Possibly  you  wait  till  necessity  reduces 
you  to  act.  Can  there  be  a  greater  to  freeborn  men 
than  shame  and  ir.famy  ?  Will  you  then  lor  ever  walk 
in  the  public  s-juares  with  this  question  in  your 
mouths,  '  What  news  is  there ?'  Can  there  be  greater 
new*,  than  that  a  Macedonian  has  vanquished  the 
Athenians,  and  "iade  himself  the  supreme  arbiter  of 
Greece?  '  l'h>tip  ii  dead,'  says  one,  '  No,'  replies 
another,  '  he  it  only  sick.'  [His  being  wounded  at 
Methone  had  occasioned  all  these  reports.]  But 
whether  he  b<,  sick  or  dead  is  nothing  to  the  purpose, 
O  Athenian?',  for  the  moment  after  Heaven  had  deli- 
vered you  from  him  (should  you  still  behave  as  you 
now  do.)  you  would  raise  up  another  Philip  against 
yourselves;  since  the  man  in  question  owes  hi*  gran- 
deur infini'ely  more  to  your  indolence  than  to  hi* 
own  strength." 

But  Demosthenes,  not  satisfied  with  bare  remon- 
strances, or  with  giving  his  opinion  in  general  Krnis, 
proposed  a  plan,  the  execution  of  which  he  believed 
would  check  the  attempts  of  Philip.  In  the  first 
place,  he  advise*  the  Athenians  to  fit  out  a  fleet  of 
fifty  galleys,  and  to  resolve  firmly  to  man  them  them- 
selves. He  requires  them  to  reinforce  these  with  ten 
galleys  lightly  armed,  which  may  serve  to  escort  the 
convoys  of  the  fleet  and  the  transports.  With  regard 
to  the  land  forces, — as  in  his  time  the  general,  elect- 
ed by  the  most  powerful  faction,  formed  the  army 
only  of  a  confused  assemblage  of  foreigners  and  mer- 
cenary troops,  who  did  little  service, — Demosthenes 
requires  them  to  levy  no  more  than  2000  chosen  troops, 
500  of 'which  shall  be  Athenians,  and  the  rest  raised 
from  among  the  allies:  with  200  horse,  fifty  of  which 
shall  also  be  Athenians. 

The  annual  expense  of  maintaining  this  little  army, 
with  regard  only  to  provisions  and  other  matter*  in- 
dependent of  their  pay,  was  to  amount  to  little  more 
than  ninety  talents  (90,000  crowns,)1  viz.  forty  talents 
for  ten  convoy  of  galleys,  at  the  rate  of  twenty  ruin* 
(1000  livres)  per  month  for  each  galley;  forty  talents 
for  the  2000  infantry;  and  ten  drachmas,  (five  livres) 
per  mouth  for  each  foot-soldier,  which  five  livres  per 
month  make  a  little  more  than  three-pence  farthing 
(French  money)  per  diem.  Finally,  twelve  talents 
for  the  200  horse,  at  thirty  drachmas  (fifteen  livres) 
per  month  for  each  horseman,  which  fifteen  livres  per 
month  make  five  sols  per  diem.  The  reason  of  my 
relating  this  so  particularly,  is  to  give  the  reader  an 
idea  of  the  expenses  of  an  army  in  those  times.  De- 
mosthenes adds,  that  if  any  one  should  imagine  that 
the  preparation  of  provision  is  not  a  considerable  step, 
he  is  verv  much  mistaken;  for  he  is  persuaded,  that, 
provided  the  forces  do  not  want  provisions,  the  war 
will  furnish  them  with  every  thinsc  besides;  and  that 
without  doing  the  least  wrong  to  the  Greeks  or  their 
allies,  they  will  not  fail  of  sufficient  acquisitions  to 
rrake  up  all  deficiencies  and  arrears  of  pay. 

But  as  the  Athenians  might  be  surprised  at  Demos- 
thenes'* requiring  so  small  a  body  of  forces,  he  gives 
this  reason  for  it,  viz.  Vhat  at  present  the  situation  of 
the  commonwealth  did  not  permit  the  Athenian!  to 
oppose  Philip  with  a  force  sufficient  to  make  head 
against  him  in  the  field:  and  that  it  would  be  their 
business  to  make  excursions  only.  Thus  his  design 
was,  that  this  little  army  should  be  hovering  perpetu- 
ally about  the  frontiers  of  Macedonia,  to  awe,  observe, 
harass  and  to  press  the  enemy,  in  order  to  prevent 
them  from  concerting  and  executing  such  enterprises 
with  ease,  as  they  might  think  fit  to  attempt. 


>  Ear h  talent  wai  worth  1000 crowtu. 


What  the  success  of  this  harangue  wa«,  w  not 
knoivn.  It  is  very  probable,  that  as  the  Athenians 
were  not  attacked  personally,  they,  in  consequence 
of  the  pupineness  natural  to  them,  were  very  imiille- 
rent  with  regard  to  the  progress  of  Philip's  ani.s. 
The  divisions  at  this  time  in  Greece  were  very  fa- 
vourable to  that  monarch.  Athens  and  Lacedasmon 
on  one  side  were  solely  intent  on  reducing  the  strength 
of  Thebes  their  rival;  whilst,  on  the  other  side,  the 
Thessalians,  in  order  to  free  themselves  from  their 
tyrants,  and  the  Thebans,  to  maintain  the  superiority 
which  they  had  acquired  by  the  battles  of  Leuctra 
and  Mantinea,  devoted  themselves  in  the  most  abso- 
lute manner  to  Philip;  and  assisted  him,  though  un 
intentionally,  in  making  chains  for  themselves. 

Philip,  like  an  able  politician,  knew  well  how  to 
take  advantage  of  all  these  dissensions.  This  king, 
in  order  to  secure  his  frontiers,  had  nothing  more  at 
heart  than  to  enlarge  them  towards  Thrnce:  and  this 
he  could  not  do  but  at  the  expense  of  the  Athenians, 
who,  since  the  defeat  of  Xerxes,  had  many  colonies 
(besides  several  states  who  were  either  thei-  allies  or 
tributaries)  in  that  country. 

Olynthus,  a  city  of  Thrace,  in  the  peninsula  of 
Pallene,  was  one  of  these  colonies.  The  Olvnthian* 
had  been  at  great  variance  with  Amynta*,  fiither  of 
Philip,  and  had  even  very  much  opposed  the  latter 
upon  his  accession  to  the  crown.  However,  as  he 
was  not  vet  firmly  established  on  the  throne,  he  at 
first  employed  dissimulation,  and  courted  the  alliance 
of  the  Olynthians,  to  whom,  some  time  after,  he  gave 
up  Potidica,  an  important  fortress,  which  he  had  con- 
quered, in  concert  with  and  for  them,  from  the  Athe- 
nians. When  he  found  himself  able  to  execute  his 
project,  he  took  proper  measures  in  order  to  besiege 
Olynthus.  The  inhabitants  of  this  city,  who  saw  the 
storm  gathering  at  a  distance,  had  recourse  to  the 
Athenians,  of  whom  they  requested  immediate  aid. 
The  affair  was  debated  in  an  assembly  of  the  people; 
and  as  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance,  a  great  num- 
ber of  orators  met  in  the  assembly.  F.ach  of  them 
mounted  the  tribunal  in  his  turn,  which  was  regula- 
ted by  their  age.  Demosthenes,  who  was  then  but 
four-and-thirty,  did  not  speak  till  after  his  seniors 
had  discussed  the  matter  a  long  time. 

In8  this  discourse,8  the  orator,  the  better  to  succeed 
in  his  aim,  alternately  terrifies  and  encourages  the 
Athenians.  F'or  this  purpose,  he  represents  Philip  in 
two  very  different  lights.  On  one  side,  he  is  a  man 
whose  unbounded  ambition  the  empire  of  the  whole 
world  would  not  satiate;  a  haughty  tyrant,  who  looks 
upon  all  men,  and  even  his  allies,  as  so  many  sub- 
jects or  slaves;  and  who,  for  that  reason,  is  no  less 
incensed  bv  too  slow  a  submission,  than  an  open  re 
volt;  a  vigilant  politician,  who,  always  intent  on  ta- 
king advantage  of  the  oversights  and  errors  of  others, 
seizes  with  enyernefs  every  favourable  opportunity; 
an  indefatigable  warrior,  whom  his  activity  multi- 
plies, and  who  supports  perpetually  the  most  severe 
toiU,  without  allowing  himself  a  moment's  repose,  or 
having  the  least  regard  to  the  difference  of  seasons; 
an  intrepid  hero,  who  rushes  through  obstacles  and 
plunges  into  the  midst  of  dangers;  a  corrupter,  who 
with  his  purse  bargains,  traffics,  buys,  and  employs 
gold  no  less  than  iron;  a  happy  prince,  on  whom 
fortune  lavishes  her  favours,  and  for  whom  she  seems 
to  have  forgotten  her  inconMancy:  but,  on  the  other 
side,  this  same  Philip  is  an  imprudent  man,  who  mea- 
sures his  va<t  projects,  not  by  his  strength,  but  merely 
by  his  ambition;  a  rash  man,  who,  by  his  attempt*, 
h'umelf  digs  the  crave  of  his  own  grandeur,  and  opens 
precipices  before  him.  down  which  a  small  eflurt 
would  throw  him;  a  knave,  whose  power  is  raised  on 


•  Olvnlh.  ii. 

*  The   oration   which   Denxwthenef   pronounced   tt   that 
limr.  it  generally  looked  upon  as  the  second  of  tl.o  three 
(Xynthiars  which   relate  to  ihis  «ul>jrct.     But  M.  ilo  Tour 
rei'l.  chiefly  on   tlm  authority  of  Diony»ius   Haltrarnemicn- 
iiis.  which  "ought  to  be  of  e'rral  weight  on   thu  occan.m, 
change*  the  order  gem-mlly  observed  in  Demo«therN>§'«  orn- 
lions,  and  i-lacp*  this  at  the  head  of  the  Olynthiara.    Though 
I  urn  of  ihi.  opinion,  I  »hall  cite  the  oratiooi  in  the  ordM 
they  are  printed. 

2  S  2 


510 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


the  most  ruinous  of  all  foundations,  breach  of  faith, 
and  villany;  a  usurper,  hated  universally  abroad, 
who,  by  trampling  uj  on  all  laws,  human  and  divine, 
has  made  all  nations  his  enemies;  a  tyrant,  detested 
even  in  the  heart  of  his  dominions,  in  which,  by  the 
infamy  of  his  manners  and  his  other  vires,  he  has  tired 
out  the  patience  of  his  captains,  his  soldiers,  and  of  all 
his  subjects  in  general;  to  conclude,  a  perjured  and 
impious  wretch,  equally  abhorred  by  heaven  ami 
earth,  and  whom  the  gods  are  now  upon  the  point  of 
destroying  Ijy  any  hand  that  will  administer  to  their 
wrath,  and  second  their  vengeance. 

This  is  the  double  picture  of  Philip,  which  M.  de 
Tourreil  draws,  by  uniting  the  several  detached  li- 
neaments in  the  present  oration  of  Demosthenes.    By 
his  we  see  the  great   freedom  with  which  the  Athe- 
ians  spoke  of  so  powerful  a  monarch. 

Our  orator,  after  having  represented  Philip  one  mo- 
ment as  formidable,  the  next  as  very  easy  to  be  con- 
quered, concludes,  that  the  only  certain  method  for 
reducing  #uch  an  enemy,  would  be  to  reform  the  new 
abuses,  to  revive  the  ancient  order  and  regulation?, 
to  appease  domestic  dissensions,  and  to  suppress  the 
cabals  which  are  incessantly  forming;  and  all  this  in 
such  a  manner,  that  every  thing  may  unite  in  the  sole 
point  of  the  public  service;  and  that,  at  a  common 
expense,  every  man,  according  to  his  abilities,  may 
concur  in  the  destruction  of  the  common  enemy. 

Demades,1  bribed  by  Philip's  gold,  opposed  very 
strenuously  the  advice  of  Demosthenes,  but  in  vain; 
for  the  Athenians  sent,  under  the  conduct  of  Chares 
the  general,  thirty  galleys  and  2000  men  to  succour 
the  Olynthians,  who  in  this  urgent  necessity,  which 
so  nearly  affected  all  the  Greeks  in  general,  could 
obtain  assistance  only  from  the  Athenians. 

However,  this  succour  did  not  pre- 

A.  M.  3655.  vent  the  designs  of  Philip,  nor  the 
Ant.  J.  C.  349.  progress  of  his  arnn.  For  he  marches 
into  Chalcis,  takes  several  places  of 
strength,  makes  himself  master  of  the  fortress  of  Gira, 
which  he  demolishes,  and  spreads  terror  throughout 
the  whole  country.  Olynthus,  being  thus  more 
closely  pressed,  and  menaced  with  destruction,  sent 
a  second  embassy  to  Athens,  to  solicit  a  new  reinforce- 
ment. Demosthenes  argues  very  strongly  in  favour 
of  their  request,  and  proves  to  the  Athenians,  that 
they  were  equally  obliged  by  honour  and  interest  to 
have  regard  to  it.  This  is  the  subject  of  the  Olyn- 
thiac  generally  reckoned  as  the  third. 

The  orator,  always  animated  with  a  strong  and 
lively  zeal  for  the  safety  and  glory  of  his  country,  en- 
deavours to  intimidate  the  Athenians,  by  setting  be- 
fore them  the  dangers  with  which  they  are  threaten- 
ed;  exhibiting  to  them  a  most  dread lul  prospect  of 
the  future,  if  they  do  not  rouse  from  their  lethargy: 
tor  that,  in  case  Philip  seizes  upon  Olyntl  us,  he  will 
inevitably  attack  Athens  afterwards  with  aJ  his  forces. 

The  greatest  difficulty  was  the  means  ol  raising  suf- 
ficient sums  for  defraying  the  expenses  requisite  for 
the  succour  of  the  Olynthians;  because  the  military 
funds  were  otherwise  employed,  viz.  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  public  games. 

When  the  Athenians,  at  the  end  of  the  war  of 
^Egina,  had  concluded  a  thirty  years'  peace  with  the 
Lacedemonians,  they  resolved  to  put  into  their  trea- 
f*ury,  by  way  of  reserve,  1000  talents  every  year;  at 
the  same  time  prohibiting  any  person,  upon  pain  of 
death,  to  mention  the  employing  any  part  of  it,  ex- 
cept for  repulsing  an  enemy  who  should  invade  Atti- 
ca. This  was  at  first  observed  with  the  warmth  and 
fervour  which  men  have  for  all  new  institutions.  Af- 
terwards Pericles,  in  order  to  make  his  court  to  the 
people,  proposed  to  distribute  amongst  them  in  times 
of  peace,8  the  1000  talents,  and  to  apply  it  in  giving 
to  each  citizen  two  oboli  at  the  public  shows,  upon 
londition,  however,  that  they  might  resume  this  fund 
in  time  of  war.  The  proposal  was  approved  and  the 
restriction  also.  But  as  all  concessions  of  this  kind 
degenerate  one  time  or  other  into  licence,  the  Athe- 


>  Suidas  in  voce  Anpx£«c. 

•  These  gamen,  besides  the  two  oboli  which  were  distri- 
buted t>  each  of  the  persons  present,  occasioned  a  great 
number  of  other  expenses. 


nians  were  so  highly  pleased  with  this  distribution, 
(cblled  by  Demades  birdlime  by  which  the  sitlienians 
would  be  calched)  that  they  would  not  suffer  it  to  be 
retrenched  upon  any  account.  The  abuse  was  carried 
to  such  a  height  that  Eubulus,  one  of  the  heads  of 
the  faction  which  opposed  Demosthenes,  caused  a 
decree  to  be  passed,  prohibiting  any  person,  upon  pain 
of  death,  from  so  much  as  proposing  to  restore,  for 
the  service  of  the  war,  those  funds  which  Pericles  had 
transferred  to  the  games  and  public  shows.  Apollo- 
dorus  was  even  punished  for  declaring  himsell  of  a 
contrary  opinion,  and  for  insisting  upon  it. 

This  absurd  profusion  had  very  strange  effects  It 
was  impossible  to  supply  it  but  by  imposing  taxes, 
the  inequality  of  which  (being  entirely  arbitrary) 
perpetuated  strong  feuds,  and  made  the  military  pre- 
parations so  very  slow  as  quite  defeated  the  design 
of  them,  without  lessening  the  expense.  As  the  ar- 
tificers and  seafaring  people,  who  composed  above 
two-thirds  of  the  people  of  Athens,  did  not  contri- 
bute any  part  of  their  substance,  and  only  lent  their 
personal  services,  the  whole  tveight  of  the  taxes  fell 
entirely  upon  the  rich.  These  murmured  upon  that 
account,  and  reproached  the  others  with  suffering  the 
public  moneys  to  be  squandered  upon  festivals,  plays, 
and  the  like  superfluities.  But  the  people  being  sen- 
sible of  their  superiority,  paid  very  little  regard  to 
their  complaints,  and  had  no  manner  of  inclination  to 
curtail  their  diversions,  merely  to  ease  people  who 
possessed  employments  and  dignities  from  which  they 
were  entirely  excluded.  Besides,  any  person  who 
should  dare  to  propose  this  to  the  people  seriously 
and  in  form,  would  be  in  great  danger  of  his  life. 

However,  Demosthenes  presumed  to  introduce  this 
subject  at  two  different  times;  but  then  he  treated  it 
with  the  utmost  art  and  circumspection.  After  show- 
ing that  the  Athenians  were  indispensably  obliged  to 
raise  an  army,  in  order  to  stop  the  enterprises  of 
Philip,  he  hints  (but  covertly)  that  there  are  no  other 
funds  than  those  which  were  expended  on  theatrical 
representations,  which  can  be  assigned  for  levying  and 
maintaining  an  armed  force.  He  demands  that  com- 
missioners might  be  nominated,  not  to  enact  new 
laws  (there  being  already  but  too  many  established,) 
but  to  examine  and  abolish  such  as  should  be  found 
prejudicial  to  the  welfare  of  the  republic.  He  did 
not  thereby  become  obnoxious  to  capital  punishment, 
as  enacted  by  those  laws;  because  he  did  not  require 
that  they  should  be  actually  abolished,  but  only  that 
commissioners  might  he  nominated  to  inspect  them. 
He  only  hinted,  how  highly  necessary  it  was  to  abo- 
lish a  law  which  gave  pain  to  the  most  zealous  citi- 
zens, and  reduced  them  to  this  sad  alternative,  either 
to  ruin  themselves,  in  case  they  gave  their  opinion 
boldly  and  faithfully,  or  to  destroy  their  country,  in 
case  they  observed  a  fearful  prevaricating  silence. 

These  remonstrances  do  not  seem  to  have  had  the 
success  they  deserved,  since  in  the  following  Olyn- 
thiac  (which  is  commonly  placed  as  the  first)  the  ora- 
tor was  obliged  to  inveigh  once  more  against  the 
misapplication  of  the  military  funds.  The  Olynthi- 
ans being  now  vigorously  attacked  by  Philip,  and  ha- 
ving hitherto  been  very  ill  succoured  by  the  merce- 
nary soldiery  of  Athens,  required,  by  a  third  embas- 
sy, a  body  of  troops,  which  should  not  consist  of  mer- 
cenaries and  foreigners  as  before,  but  of  true  Athe- 
nians, of  men  inspired  with  a  sincere  ardour  for  the 
interest  both  of  their  own  glory  and  the  common 
cause.  The  Athenians,  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of 
Demosthenes,  sent  Chares  a  second  time,  with  a  re- 
inforcement of  seventeen  galleys,  of  2000  foot  and 
.100  horse,  all  citizens  of  Athens,  as  the  Olynthiani 
had  requested.  / 

The  followingyear  Philip  possessed 
himself  of  Olynthus*    Neither  the       A.  M.  3656. 
succours  nor  the  efforts  of  the  Athe-     Ant.J.  C.348. 
nians  could  defend  it  from  its  domes- 
tic 'enemies.     It  was   betrayed   by  Euthycrates  and 
Lasthenes,  two  of  its  most  eminent  citizens,  and  ac- 
tually in  office  at  that  time.     Thus  Philip  entered  by 
the  breach  which  his  gold  had  made.     Immediately 


•  Died.  I.  xvi.  r.  450-433. 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


511 


•*  plunders  th  t  unhappy  city,  lay*  one  part  of  the 
inhabitants  in  chains,  and  sells  the  rest  for  slaves; 
and  distinguishes  those  who  had  betrayed  their  city, 
no  otherwise  than  by  the  supreme  contempt  he  ex- 
pressed for  them.  This  king,  like  his  son  Alexander, 
loved  the  treason  but  abhorred  the  traitor.  And  in- 
deed, how  can  a  prince  rely  upon  him  who  has  be- 
trayed his  country  ?  Eiery  one,1  even  the  common 
soldiers  ol"  the  Macedonian  army,  reproached  Euthy- 
crates  and  I^astheneg  for  their  perfidy;  and  when 
they  complained  to  Philip  upon  that  account,  he  on- 
ly made  this  ironical  answer,  infinitely  more  severe 
Ihan  the  reproach  itself:  "  Do  not  mind  jvhat  a  pack 
fif  vulgar  fel.ows  say,  who  call  every  thing  by  its  real 
Dame." 

Thr  king  was  overjoyed  at  his  being  possessed  of 
this  citv,  which  was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  him, 
us  its  power  might  have  very  much  checked  his  con- 
quests. Some  years  before,*  the  Olynthians  had  long 
resisted  the  united  armies  of  Macedon  and  Lacedae- 
inonia;  whereas  Philip  had  taken  it  with  very  little 
resistance,  at  least  had  not  lust  many  men  in  the  siege, 

He  now  caused  shows  and  public  games  to  be  ex- 
hibited with  the  utmost  magnificence;  to  these  he 
added  feasts  and  entertainments,  in  which  he  made 
himself  very  popular,  bestowing  on  all  the  guests  con- 
siderable gifts,  and  treating  them  with  the  utmost 
marks  ol  his  friendship. 

SECTION  IV.— PHILIP  DECLARES  IX  FAVOUR  OF 
THEMES  AGAINST  THE  PHOC^ANS,  AND  THEREBY 
ENGAGES  IN  THE  SACRED  WAR.  HE  LULU  THE 
ATHENIANS,  NOTWITHSTANDING  THE  REMON- 
STRANCES OF  DEMOSTHENES,  INTO  SECURITY,  BY 
A  PRETENDED  PEACE  AND  FALSE  PROMISES.  HE 
SEIZES  ON  THERMOPYLAE,  SUBJECTS  THE  PHOCJ2- 
A.NS,  AND  PUTS  AN  END  TO  THE  SACRED  WAR. 
HE  IS  ADMITTED  INTO  THE  COUNCIL  OF  THE 
AMPHICTYONS. 

THE  Thebans,  being  unable  alone 
A.  M.  3657.  to  terminate  the  war  which  they  had 
Ant.  J.  C.  347.  so  long  carried  on  against  the  Pho- 
caeans,  had  recourse  to  Philip.  Hi- 
therto, as  we  before  mentioned,  he  had  observed  a 
kind  of  neutrality  with  respect  to  the  sacred  war; 
and  he  seemed  to  wait,  in  order  to  declare  himself, 
till  both  parties  "hould  have  weakened  themselves  by 
a  long  war,  which  equally  exhausted  them  both. 
The  Thebans  had  now  very  much  abated  of  that 
haughtiness  and  those  ambitious  views,  with  which 
the  victories  of  Epaminondas  had  inspired  them.  The 
instant  therefore  that  they  requested  the  alliance  of 
Philip,  he  resolved  to  espouse  the  interest  of  that  re- 
public in  opposition  to  the  Phocaeans.  He  had  not 
lost  sight  of  the  project  he  had  formed,  of  obtaining 
an  entrance  into  Greece,  in  order  to  make  himsell 
master  of  it.  To  give  success  to  his  design,  it  was 
proper  for  him  to  declare  in  favour  of  one  of  the  two 
parties  which  at  that  time  divided  all  Greece,  that  :s, 
either  for  the  Thebans,  or  the  Athenians  and  Spar- 
tans. He  was  not  so  void  of  sense  as  to  imagine,  that 
the  latter  choice  would  assist  his  design  of  securing 
to  himself  a  share  in  the  affairs  of  Greece.  He  there- 
fore had  no  more  to  do  but  to  join  the  Thebans,  who 
offered  themselves  voluntarily  to  him,  and  who  stood 
in  need  of  Philip's  power  to  support  themselves  in 
their  declining  condition.  He  therefore  declared  at 
once  in  thtir  favour.  But  to  give  a  specious  colour 
to  his  amis,  besides  the  gratitude  which  he  affected 
to  feel  for  Thebes,  in  which  he  had  been  educated, 
he  also  pretended  to  derive  honour  from  the  zeal 
with  which  he  was  fired,  with  regard  to  the  insulted 
god;  and  was  very  glad  to  gain  the  reputation  of  a 
religious  prince,  who  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of 
the  god  and  of  the  temple  o(  Delphi,  in  order  to  con- 
ciliate by  that  means  the  esteem  and  friendship  of 
the  Greeks.  Politicians  apply  every  pretext  to  their 
views,  and  endeavour  to  screen  the  most  unjust  at- 
tempts with  the  veil  of  probity,  and  sometimes  even 
of  religion;  though  they  very  frequently,  in  the  main 
have  no  manner  of  regard  for  either. 


>  Plat,  in  Apophth.  p.  178. 


*  Died.  1.  XT.  p.  341. 


There  was  nothing  Philip  had  more  at  heart,*  tnan 
to  possess  himself  of  Thermopylae,  as  it  opened  him 
a  pas?age  into  Gr«-oc»;  to  appropriate  all  the  honour 
of  the  sacred  war  to  himself,  as  if  he  had  been  prin 
cipal  in  that  affair;  and  to  preside  in  the  Pythian 
games.  He  was  desirous  of  aiding  the  Theban-,  and 
by  their  means  to  possess  himself  of  Phocis:  but  then, 
in  order  to  put  this  double  design  in  execution,  tt 
was  necessary  for  him  to  keep  it  secret  from  the  Athe- 
nians, who  had  actually  declared  waragain«t  Thebes, 
and  who  for  many  years  had  been  in  alliance  with 
the  Phocaans.  His  business  therefore  was  to  deceive 
them  by  placing  other  objects  in  their  view;  and  on 
this  occasion  the  politics  of  Philip  succeeded  to  a 
wonder. 

The  Athenians,  who  began  to  grow  tired  of  a  war 
which  was  very  burdensome,  am!  of  little  benefit  to 
them,  had  commissioned  Ctesiphon  and  Phrvnon  to 
sound  the  intentions  of  Philip,  and  discover  what 
were  his  sentiments  with  regard  to  peace.  They  re- 
lated that  Philip  did  not  appear  averse  to  it.  and  that 
he  even  expressed  a  great  affection  for  the  common- 
wealth. Upon  this,  the  Athenians  resolved  to  send  a 
solemn  embassy,  to  enquire  more  strictly  into  the 
truth,  and  to  procure  the  fullest  information  which 
so  important  a  negotiation  required.  ,£schines  and 
Demosthenes  were  amnng  the  ten  ambassadors,  who 
brought  back  three  from  Philip,  viz.  Antipater,  Par- 
ipenio,  and  Eurylochus.  All  the  ten  executed  their 
commission  very  faithfully,  and  gave  a  very  good  ac- 
count of  it.  Upon  this,  they  were  immediately  sent 
back  with  full  powers  to  conclude  a  peace,  and  to  ra- 
tify it  by  oaths.  It  was  then  that  Demosthenes,  who 
in  his  first  embassy  had  met  some  Athenian  captives 
in  Macedonia,  and  had  promised  to  return  and  ran- 
som them  at  his  own  expense,  endeavours  to  keep  his 
word;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  advises  his  colleagues 
to  embark  with  the  utmost  expedition,  as  the  repub- 
lic had  commanded ;  and  to  wait  as  soon  as  possible 
upon  Philip,  in  what  place  soever  he  might  be.  How- 
ever, these,  instead  of  making  a  speedy  despatch,  as 
they  were  desired,  go  an  ambassador's  pace,  proceed 
to  Macedonia  by  land,  stay  three  months  in  that  coun- 
try, and  give  Philip  time  to  possess  himself  of  several 
ot'her  strong  places  belonging  to  the  Athenians  in 
Thrace.  At  last,  having  come  to  a  conference  with 
the  king  of  Macedonia,  they  agree  with  him  upon 
articles  of  peace:  but  he,  content  with  having  lulled 
them  asleep  by  the  specious  pretence  of  a  treaty.  He 
ferred  the  ratification  of  it  from  day  to  day.  Philip 
had  found  means  to  corrupt  the  ambassadors  one  af- 
ter another  by  presents,  Demosthenes  excepted,  who, 
being  but  one,  opposed  his  colleagues  to  no  manner 
of  purpose. 

In  the  mean  time  Philip  made  his  troops  advance 
continually.  Beingarrived  at  Phene  in  Thessaly.  heat 
last  ratifies  the  treaty  of  peace,  but  refuses  to  include 
the  Phocasans  In  it.  When  news  was  brought  to 
Athens,  that  Philip  had  signed  the  treaty,  it  occasion- 
ed very  great  joy  in  that  city,  especially  among  those 
who  were  averse  to  the  war,  and  dreaJed  the  conse- 
quencesofit.  Among  these  was  Isocrates.*  He  wa» 
a  citizen  very  zealous  for  the  commonwealth,  whose 
prosperity  he  had  very  much  at  heart.  The  weak- 
ness of  his  voice,  together  with  a  timidity  natural  to 
him,  had  prevented  his  appearing  in  public,  and 
mounting  like  others  the  tribunal.  He  had  opened  a 
school  in  Athens,  in  which  he  read  rhetorical  lectures, 
and  taught  youth  eloquence  with  great  reputation  and 
success.  However  he  had  not  entirely  renounced  the 
careof  public  affairs;  and  as  others  served  theircoun- 
try  rira  race,  in  the  public  assemblies,  Isocrates  en- 
deavoured to  benefit  it  by  his  writing*,  in  which  he 
delivered  his  thoughts:  and  these  being  soon  made 
public,  were  very  eagerly  sought  after. 

On  the  present  occasion,  he  wrote  a  piece  of  consi- 
derable length,  which  he  addressed  to  Philip,  with 
whom  he  held  a  correspondence,  but  in  such  terms  as 
were  worthy  a  good  and  faithful  citizen.  He  wa* 
then  very  far  advanced  in  year?,  being  at  least  four- 
score and  eight.  The  scope  of  this  discoorse  wa»  to 
"T  Demcwth.  Oral  de  fals*  Legmt:<x>e 

«  Isocrat.  Oral,  id  Philip 


512 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


exhort  Philip  to  take  advantage  of  the  peace  he  had 
just  before  concluded,  in  order  to  reconcile  all  the 
Greek  nation*  and  afterwards  to  turn  his  arms  against 
»he  kin«  of  Persia.  The  business  was  to  engage  in 
this  plan  four  cities,  on  which  all  the  rest  depended, 
viz.  Athens,  Sparta,  Thebes,  and  Argo».  He  confes- 
ses, that  if  Sparta  or  Athens  were  as  powerful  as  for- 
merly, he  should  be  far  from  making  such  a  proposal, 
which  he  was  sensible  they  would  never  approve;  and 
which  the  pride  of  those  two  republics,  whilst  cher- 
ished and  augmented  by  success,  would  reject  with 
disdain.  But  that  now,  ns  the  most  powerful  cities 
ol  Greece,  wearied  out  and  exhausted  bv  long  wars, 
and  humbled  each  in  their  turn  by  falaf  reverses  of 
fortune,  have  equally  an  interest  in  laying  down  their 
arms,  and  living  in  peace,  pursuant  to  the  example 
which  the  Athenians  had  begun  to  set  them;  the  pre- 
sent is  the  most  favourable  opportunity  Philip  could 
have,  to  reconcile  and  unite  the  several  cities  of 
Greece. 

In  case  he  should  be  »o  happy  as  to  succeed  in  such 
a  project  so  glorious  and  beneficial  a  success  would 
raise  him  above  whatever  had  hitherto  appeared  most 
august  in  Greece.  But  the  bare  project  in  it«elf, 
though  it  should  not  have  so  happy  an  effect  as  he 
might  expect  from  it,  would  yet  infallibly  gain  him 
the  esteem,  the  affection  and  confidence  of  all  the  na- 
tions of  Greece;  advantages  infinitely  preferable  to 
the  taking  of  cities,  and  all  the  conquests  he  might 
hope  to  obtain. 

Some  persons  indeed,  who  were  prejudiced  against 
Philip,  represent  and  exclaim  against  him  as  a  crafty 
prince,  who  gives  a  specious  pretext  to  his  march, 
but,  at  the  same  time,  has  in  reality  no  other  object 
in  view  than  the  enslaving  of  Greece.  Isocrates, 
either  from  a  too  great  credulity,  or  from  a  desire  of 
bringing  Philip  into  his  views,  supposes,  that  rumours 
so  injurious  as  these  have  no  manner  of  foundation: 
it  not  being  probable,  that  a  prince  who  glories  in 
being  descended  from  Hercules,  the  deliverer  of 
Greece,  should  think  of  invading  and  tyrannizing  over 
it.  But  these  very  reports,  which  are  so  capable  of 
blackening  his  name  and  of  sullying  all  his  glory, 
should  prompt  him  to  demonstrate  the  falsity  of  them 
in  the  presence  of  all  Greece  by  proofs  that  cannot  be 
suspected,  by  leaving  and  maintaining  each  city  in 
the  full  possession  of  its  laws  and  liberties;  by  re- 
moving with  the  utmost  care  all  suspicions  of  par- 
tiality; by  not  espousing  the  interest  of  one  people 
against  another;  by  winning  the  confidence  of  all 
men  by  a  noble  disinterestedness  and  an  invariable 
love  of  juctice:  in  fine,  by  aspiring  to  no  other  title 
than  that  of  the  reconciler  of  the  divisions  of  Greece, 
a  title  far  more  glorious  than  that  of  conqueror. 

It  is  in  the  king  of  Per<ia'sdominions  that  he  ought 
to  seek  and  merit  those  last  titles.  The  conquest  of 
it  is  open  and  sure  to  him,  in  case  he  could  succeed 
in  pacifying  the  troubles  of  Greece.  He  should  call 
to  mind,  that  Agesilauv,  with  no  other  forces  than 
those  of  Sparta,  shook  the  Persian  throne,  and  would 
infallibly  have  subverted  it,  had  he  not  been  recalled 
into  Greece  by  the  intestine  divisions  which  then 
broke  out.  The  signal  victory  of  the  ten  thousand 
under  Clearohus,  and  their  triumphant  retreat  in  the 
sight  of  innumerable  armies,  prove  what  might  be 
expected  from  the  joint  forces  of  the  Macedonians 
and  Greeks,  when  commanded  by  Philip  against  a 
prince  inferior  in  every  respect  to  him  whom  Cyrus 
had  endeavoured  to  dethrone. 

l«ocratet  concludes  with  declaring,  that  it  teemed 
as  if  the  gods  had  hitherto  granted  Philip  so  long  a 
train  of  successes,  with  no  other  view  than  to  enable 
him  to  form  and  execute  the  glorious  enterprise,  the 
plan  of  which  he  had  laid  before  him.  He  reduces 
the  counsel  he  frave  to  three  heads:  That  this  prince 
should  govern  his  own  empire  with  wisdom  and  jus- 
tice; should  heal  the  divisions  between  the  neigh- 
bouring nations  and  all  Greece,  without  desiring  to 
possess  any  part  of  it  himself;  and  this  being  done, 
that  he  should  turn  his  victorious  arms  against  a  coun- 
try which  in  all  ages  had  been  the  enemy  of  Greece, 
»nd  had  often  rowed  their  destruction. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  this  is  a  most  noble  plan, 


and  highly  worthy  a  great  prince.  But  l«o<  roles 
had  a  very  false  idea  of  Philip,  if  he  thought  this  mo 
narch  would  ever  put  it  into  execution.  Philip  did 
not  possess  the  equity,  moderation,  or  disint. 
nes?,  which  such  a  project  required.  He  renllv  in- 
tended to  attack  Persia,  but  was  persuaded  that  it 
was  his  business  first  to  make  him<eif*rrure  of  Greece 
which  indeed  he  was  determine  to  do,  not  bv  kind 
services,  but  by  force.  He  did  not  endeavour  either 
to  win  over  or  persuade  nations,  but  to  subject  and 
reduce  them.  As  on  his  side  he  had  no  manner  of 
regaid  for  alliances  and  treaties,  hejur'ged  ol  others 
by  himseIC,  and  wished  to  bind  them  to  him-t  If  by 
much  stronger  ties  than  those  of  friendship,  gratitude 
and  sincerity. 

As  Demosthenes  was  better  acquainted  with  the 
state  of  affairs  than  Isocrates,  so  he  formed  a  truer 
judgment  of  Philip's  designs.  Upon  his  return  from 
his  embassy,  he  declares  expressly,  that  he  does  not 
approve  either  of  the  discourse  or  the  conduct  of  the 
Macedonian  kins,  but  that  every  thing  is  to  be  dread- 
ed from  him.  On  the  contrary,  jEschines,  who  had 
been  bribed,  assures  the  Athenians,  that  he  had  dis- 
covered nothing  but  the  greatest  candour  and  sin- 
cerity in  the  promises  and  proceeding?  of  tliis  king-. 
He  had  engaged  tlint  Thespia»  and  Plataeae  should  be 
re-peopled,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  Thebsiiu; 
that  in  case  he  should  succeed  in  subjecting  the  Pho- 
caeans,  he  would  preserve  them,  and  not  do  them  the 
least  injury;  that  he  would  restore  Thebes  to  the 
good  order  which  had  before  been  observed  in  it; 
that  Oropus  should  be  given  up  absolutely  to  the 
Athenians;  and  that,  as  an  equivalent  for  Amphipo- 
li*.  tiny  should  be  put  in  possession  of  Fuboea.  It 
was  to  no  purpose  that  Demosthenes  remonstrated 
to  his  fellow-citizen*,  that  Ihilip,  notwithstanding  all 
these  glorious  promises,  was  endeavouring  to  make 
himself  absolute  master  of  Phocis;  and  thiit  by  aban- 
doning it  to  him  they  xvould  betrav  the  common- 
wealth, and  give  up  all  Greece  into  "his  hands.  He 
was  not  attended  to,  and  the  oration  of  /E-rhines, 
who  engaged  that  Philip  would  make  good  his  >tve 
ral  promises,  prevailed  over  that  of  Demosthenes. 

These    deliberations    gave    that, 
prince    an   opportunity  to   possess  A.  M.  3658. 

himself  of  Thermopylae,  and  to  en-  Ant.  J.  C.  346 
ter  Phocis.1  Hithe'rto  there  had 
been  no  possibility  of  reducing  the  Phcaeans;  but 
Philip  had  only  to  appear;  the  bare  sound  of  his 
name  filled  them  with  terror.  Upon  the  supposition 
that  he  was  marching  against  a  herd  of  sacrilegious 
wretches,  not  against  common  enemies,  he  ordered 
all  his  soldiers  to  wear  crowns  of  laurel,  and  ltd 
them  to  battle  as  under  the  conduct  of  the  god  him- 
self whose  honour  they  avenged.  The  Instant  they 
appeared,  the  Phocaeans  believed  themselves  over- 
come. Accordingly,  they  sue  for  peace,  and  yield 
to  Philip's  mercv,  who  gives  Phalecus  their  leaner 
leave  to  retire  into  Peloponnesus,  with  the  8000  men 
in  his  service.  In  this  manner  Philip,  with  very  lit- 
tle trouble,  engrossed  all  the  honour  of  a  long  and 
bloody  war,  which  had  exhausted  the  forces  of  both 
parties.  This  victory  *  gained  him  incredible  honour 
throughout  all  Greece,  and  his  glorious  expedition 
was  the  sole  topic  of  conversation  in  that  country. 
He  was  considered  as  the  avenger  of  sacrilege,  and 
the  protector  of  religion;  and  they  alino-t  ranked 
in  the  number  or"  the  gods  the  man  who  had  (Mended 
their  majesty  with  so  much  courage  and  sni 

Philip,  that  he  might  not  seem  to  do  any  thing  by 
his  own  private  authority ,  in  an  affair  which  conrernf  rt 
all  Greece,  assembles  the  council  of  the  Amphictyons, 
and  appoints  them,  for  form's  sake,  supreme  jm'ges 
of  the  pains  and  penalties  to  which  the  Phocaeans  had 
rendered  themselves  obnoxious.  UnHer  the  name  of 
these  judges,  who  were  entirely  at  his  devotion,  h« 
decrees  that  the  cities  of  Phocis  shall  be  destroyed, 
or  that  they  should  all  be  reduced  to  small  towns  of 


i  Dicwl.  I.  *vi.  p  45j. 

»  Inrrrditiilp  quantum  en  ret  apud  omnes  rationrs  Phi 
lippo  ploriie  drrtit.  Ilium  vindirem  snrrileifli,  ilium  ullnrra 
rrlijionnm.  IinqiiP  Di'i  proximus  hahetur,  pt'r  qix-m  Oso 
rum  mijeiiu  vindicate  sit.  Jutti*.  1.  viii.  c.  2. 


HIST  CRY  OF  PHILIP. 


513 


uxty  houses  eath,  and  that  those  towns  shall  be  at  a 
certain  distance  one  from  the  other;  that  those 
wretches  who  had  committed  the  sacrilege  shall  be 
irrevocably  proscribed;  and  that  the  rot  shall  not 
enjoy  then  pjSs»  ssions,  but  upon  condition  of  paving 
an  annual  tribute,  which  iball  continue  to  be  levied 
till  such  ;\  time  as  the  whole  sums  taken  out  of  the 
temple  of  Delphi  shall  be  repaid.  Philip  did  not 
forget  himself  upon  this  occasion.  Alter  he  had 
subjected  the  rebellious  Phocseans,  he  demanded 
(hat  their  right  of  session  in  the  council  of  the  Am- 
phirt\ons,  which  they  had  b'tn  declared  to  have 
forftited,  should  be  transferred  to  him.  The  Am- 
phictMius  of  whose  vengeance  he  had  now  been  the 
instrument,  were  afraid  to  refuse  him,  and  accord- 
ingly utnnitU-d  dim  a  member  of  tlieir  boclv;  a  cir- 
cumstance of  the  highest  importance  to  him,  ag  we 
(hall  see  in  the  sequel.  >«..d  of  very  dangerous  conse- 
quence to  all  the.  rest  ol  Greece.  They  »Uo  gave  him 
the  superintendence  of  the  l'\  tiiian  tames,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  B-KOtians  and  Thessnlians;  because  the 
Corinthians,  who  possessed  this  privilege  hitherto, 
had  remii n  d  themsf  l\es  unworthy  of  it,  by  sharing 
in  the  sarrilesfe  of  the  Phora  an*. 

\Viien  MMVS  was  brought  to  Athens  of  the  treat- 
ment which  the  1'hooeans  had  met  with,  the  former 
perceived,  but  too  late,  the  wrong  step  they  had 
taken  i"  refusing  to  comply  with  the  coun-els  of 
Demosthenes;  and  in  abandoning  themselves  blindlv 
to  the  vain  and  u  le  promises  of  a  traitor,  who  had 
•old  his  country,  lit  sides  the  shame  and  grief  with 
which  they  were  seized,  for  having  failed  in  the  obli- 

fations  by  which  they  were  bound  to  the  Phocaeans 
y  their  confederacy  with  them,  they  found  that  they 
had  bttra\ed  their  own  interests  in  abandoning 
their  allies.  For  Philip,  by  possessing  himself  of 
Piiocis,  was  become  master  of  Thermopylae,  which 
opeiud  him  the  gates,  and  put  into  his  hands  the  keys 
of  Greece.  The  Athenians,1  therefore,  being  justly 
alarmed  upon  their  own  account,  gave  orders  that 
the  w  HIM  n  and  children  should  be  brought  out  of  the 
country  into  the  city;  that  the  walls  should  be 
repaired,  and  the  Pirieeus  fortified  in  order  to  put 
themselves  into  a  state  of  defence  in  case  of  an 
invasion. 

The  Athenians  had  no  share  in  the  decree  by  which 
Philip  had  been  admitted  among  the  Amph'ictyons. 
They  perhaps  had  absented  themselves  purposely, 
that  they  might  not  authorize  it  by  their  presence; 
or,  which  was  more  probable,  Philip,  in  order  to 
remove  the  obstacles  and  avoid  the  impediments 
he  might  meet  with  in  the  execution  of  his  design, 
assembled,  in  an  irregular  manner,  such  of  the  Am- 
phictyons  alone  as  were  entirely  at  his  devotion.  In 
short,  he  conducted  his  intrigue  so  very  artfully,  that 
be  obtained  his  ends.  This  election  might  be  dis- 
puted as  clandestine  and  irregular;  and  tiierefore  he 
required  a  continuation  of  it  from  the  states,  who,  as 
members  of  that  body,  had  a  right  either  to  rf  ject  or 
ratify  the  new  choice.  Athens  received  the  circular 
invitation;  but  in  an  assembly  of  the  people,  which 
Was  called  in  orderto  deliberate  on  Philip's  demand, 
tcreral  were  of  opinion  that  no  notice  should  be 
taken  nf  it.  Demosthenes,  however,  was  of  a  con- 
trary opinion;  and  though  he  did  not  approve  in  any 
manner  of  the  peace  which  had  been  concluded  with 
Philip,  he  did  not  think  it  would  be  for  their  interest 
to  infringe  it  in  the  present  juncture;  since  that 
:ould  r.ut  be  done  without  stirring  up  against  the 
Athon'.ans  both  the  new  Amphictyon  and  those  who 
bad  elected  him.  His  advice  therefore  wa»,  that 
.hey  should  not  expose  themselves  unseasonably  to 
the  dangerous  consequences  which  might  ensue,  in 
ease  of  their  determinate  refusal  to  consent  to  the 
nlmo-t  unanimous  decree  of  the  Amphirtyons;  and 
protested,  that  it  was  their  interest  prudently  to 
submit,  for  fear  of  worse,  to  the  present  condition 
of  the  times;  that  is,  to  comply  with  what  was  not 
in  tluir  power  to  prevent.  Thi»  is  the  subject  of 
Demosthenes'*  discourse,  entitled.  Oration  on  (he 
Place.  We  may  reasonably  believe  that  his  advice 
Was  followed. 

*•  Domoilh  de  fals.  Legal,  p.  3l£ 
Vol.  I— b5 


SECTION  V.— PHILIP,  BEING  RETURNED  TO  MACE 
IX..MA,  EXTENDS  HIS  CONQUESTS  l.NTO  II.I.VRIA 
AND  THRACE.  HE  PROJECTS  A  LEAGUE  WITH 
THE  THEBA.NS,  THE  MESSENIANS.  AM)  THE  AK- 
TU  INVADE  PELUPti.NNESUS  IN  CONCERT 
WITH  THEM.  ATHENS  HAVING  DECLARED  IN 
FAVnUR  UF  THE  LACEDEMONIANS,  THIS  LEAGUC 
IS  DISSOLVED.  HE  AGAIN  MAKES  AN  ATTEMPT 
UPON  EUB(EA,  HUT  PHOCION  DRIVES  HIM  CUT 
OK  IT.  CHARACTER  OF  THAT  CELEBRATED 
ATHENIAN.  PHILIP  KESIEGES  PERINTHUS  AND 
I;W.  ANTIUM.  THE  ATHENIANS,  ANIMATED  1;Y 
THE  ORATIONS  OF  DEMOSTHENES,  Sl.ND  SUC- 
COURS TO  THOSE  TWO  CITIES,  UNDKR  THE 
COMMAND  OF  PHOCION,  WHO  FORCES  PHIIJP  TO 
RAISE  THE  SIEGE  OF  THOSE  PLACES. 

AFTER   Philip   had    settled  every 
thing  relating  to  the  worship  of  the        A.  M.  3660. 
god,  and  the  security  of  the  temple    Ant.  J.  C.  344. 
of  Delphi,   he  returned   into  Mace- 
donia  crowned   with  glory,  and   carrying  with   him 
the  reputation  of  a  religious  prince  and  an  intrepid 
conqueror.     Diodorus  observes,*  that  all  those  who 
had   shared  in  profaning  and  plundering  the  temple, 
perished  miserably,  and  came  to  a  tragical  end. 

Philip,3  satisfied  with  having  opened  to  himself  a 
passage  into  Greece  by  his  seizuie  of  Thermopylae; 
having  subjected  Phocis,  established  himself  one  of 
the  judges  of  Greece,  by  his  new  dignity  of  Amphic- 
tyon; and  gained  the  esteem  and  applause  of  all 
nations,  by  his  zeal  to  avenge  the  honour  of  the 
deity:  judged  verj-  prudently,  that  it  would  be 
proper  for  him  to  check  his  career,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent all  the  states  of  Greece  from  taking  aims  against 
him,  by  discovering  too  soon  his  ambitious  views 
with  regard  to  that  country.  In  order,  therefore,  to 
remove  all  suspicion,  and  to  soothe  the  disquietudes 
which  arose  on  that  occasion,  he  turned  his  anm 
against  lllvria,  purposely  to  extend  his  frontiers  on 
that  side,  and  to  keep  bis  troops  always  in  exercise 
by  some  new  expedition. 

The  same  motive  prompted  him  afterwards  to  go 
into  Thrace.  In  the  very  beginning  of  his  reign  he 
had  dispossessed  the  Athenians  of  several  strong 
places  in  that  country.  Philip  still  carried  on  hit 
conquests  there.  Suidas  observes,*  that  before  he 
took  Olvntbus,  he  had  made  himself  master  of  thirty- 
two  cities  in  Chalcis,  which  is  part  of  Thrace.  The 
Chersonesus  also  was  situated  very  commodiously  for 
him.  This  was  a  very  rich  peninsula,  in  which  there 
were  a  great  number  of  powerful  cities  and  fine 
pasture  Vands.  It  had  formerly  belonged  to  the 
Athenians.  The  inhabitants  put  themselves  under 
the  protection  of  Lacedasmonia,  when  Lysanc'er  had 
captured  Athens;  but  submitted  again  to  their  first 
ma»ter«,  after  Conon,  the  son  of  Timotheus,  had  rein- 
stated his  country.  Cotys,  king  of  Thrace,  after- 
wards dispossessed  the  Athenians  of  the  Chersonesus; 
but  it  was  restored  to  them  by  Chersobleptus,5  son 
of  Cotys,  who  finding  himself  unable  to  defend  it 
against  Philip,  gave  it  up  to  them  the  fourth  year  of 
the  106th  Olympiad;  reserving,  however,  to  himself 
Cardia,  which  was  the  most  considerable  city  of  the 
peninsula,  and  formed,  as  it  were,  the  gate  and 
entrance  to  it.  A-fter  Philip  had  deprived  Cherso- 
bleptus of  his  kingdom,6  which  happened  the  second 
year  of  the  109th  Olympiad,  the  inhabitants  of  Cardia 
being  afraid  of  falling  into  the  hand* 
of  the  Athenians,  who  claimed  their  A.  M.  3661. 
city  as  having  formerly  belonged  Ant.  J.  C.  343. 
to  them,  submitted  themselves  to 
Philip,  who  did  not  fail  to  take  them  under  hi* 
protection." 

Diopithes,  the  head  of  the  colony 
which  the  Athenians    had  sent  into        A.  M.  3662. 
Chersonesus,  looking  upon  this  step    Ant.  J.  C.  342. 
in  Philip  as  an  act  of  hostility  against 
the   commonwealth,    without   waiting  for  an   oraee, 
and  fully  persuaded  that  it  would  not  be  disavowed 


»  Died.  1.  ivi.  p.  4SC. 

*  In  K»<... 

•  Ibid.  p.  464. 


i  It.i.1.  p  4*3. 

•  DioH.  I.  ivi.  p  434 

»  Liban.  in  Dvrmxlh.  p.  Ti. 


b!4 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


inarches  suddenly  into  the  dominions  of  that  prince 
in  the  maritime  part  of  Thrace,  whilst  he  was  carry- 
ing on  an  important  war  in  Upper  Thrace;  plunders 
them  before  he  had  time  to  return  and  make  head 
against  him,  and  carries  off  a  rich  booty,  all  which 
he  lodged  safe  in  Chersonesus.  Philip,  not  being 
able  to  avenge  himself  in  the  manner  he  could  have 
wished,  contented  himself  with  making  grievous 
complaints  to  the  Athenians  by  letters  on  that  sub- 
ject. Such  as  received  pensions  from  him  in  Athens, 
served  him  but  too  effectually.  These  venal  wretches 
loudly  exclaimed  against  a  conduct,  which,  if  not 
prudent,  was  at  least  excusable.  They  declaim 
against  Diopithes;  impeach  him  of  involving  the 
state  in  war;  accuse  him  of  extortion  and  piracy; 
insist  upon  his  being  recalled,  and  prosecute  his  con- 
demnation with  the  utmost  heat  and  violence. 

Demosthenes,  seeing  t.t  this  juncture  that  the 
public  welfare  was  inseparably  connected  with  that 
of  Diopithes,  undertook  his  defence,  which  is  the 
subject  of  his  oration  on  the  Chersonesus.  This 
Diopilhes  was  father  to  Menander,  the  comic  poet, 
whom  Terence  has  copied  so  faithfully. 

Diopithes  was  accused  of  oppressing  the  allies  by 
his  unjust  exactions.  However,  Demosthenes  lays 
the  least  stress  on  this,  because  it  was  personal:  he 
nevertheless  pleads  his  apology  (transiently)  from 
the  example  of  all  the  generals,  to  whom  the  islands 
and  cities  of  Asia  Minor  paid  certain  voluntary 
contributions,  by  which  they  purchased  security  to 
their  merchants,  and  procured  convoys  for  them 
to  guard  them  against  the  pirates.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  a  man  may  exercise  oppressions,  and  ransom 
allies  very  unseasonably.  But  in  this  case,  a  bare 
decree,  an  accusation  in  due  form,1  a  galley  appoint- 
ed to  bring  home  the  recalled  general;  all  this  is 
sufficient  to  put  a  stop  to  abuses.  But  it  is  other- 
wise with  regard  to  Philip's  enterprises.  These 
cannot  be  checked  either  by  decrees  or  menaces; 
and  nothing  will  do  this  effectually,  but  raising 
troops,  and  fitting  out  galleys. 

"Your  orators,"  says  he,  "cry  out  eternally  to 
you,  that  we  must  make  choice  either  of  peace  or 
war;  but  Philip  does  not  leave  this  at  our  option,  he 
who  is  daily  meditating  some  new  enterprise  against 
us.  And  can  we  doubt  but  it  was  he  who  broke  the 
peace,  unless  it  is  pretended  that  we  have  no  reason 
to  complain  of  him,  as  long  as  he  shall  forbear  ma- 
king ?.ny  attempts  on  Attica  and  the  Piraseus?  But  it 
will  then  bs  too  late  for  us  to  oppose  him;  and  it  is 
BOW  that  we  must  prepare  strong  barriers  against  his 
ambitious  designs.  You  ought  to  lay  it  down  as  a 
certain  maxim,  O  Athenians!  that  it  is  you  he  aims 
at;  that  he  considers  you  as  his  most  dangerous 
enemies;  that  your  ruin  alone  can  establish  his  tran- 
quillity, and  secure  his  conquests;  and  that  whatever 
he  is  now  projecting,  is  merely  with  the  view  of 
falling  upon  you,  and  of  reducing  Athens  to  a  state 
of  subjection.  And,  indeed,  can  any  of  you  be  so 
vastly  simple,  as  to  imagine  that  Philip  is  so  greedy 
of  a  few  paltry  towns,2  (for  what  other  name  can  we 
bestow  on  those  which  he  now  attacks?)  as  to  sub- 
mit to  fatigues,  the  inclemency  of  the  seasons,  and 
dangers,  merely  for  the  sake  of  gaining  them;  but 
that  as  for  the  harbours,  the  arsenals,  the  galleys,  the 
silver  mines,  and  the  immense  revenues,  of  the  Athe- 
nians; that  he  considers  these  with  indifference,  does 
not  covet  them  in  the  least,  but  will  suffer  you  to 
remain  in  quiet  possession  of  them? 

"What  conclusions  are  we  to  draw  from  all  that 
has  been  said?  Why,  that  so  far  from  cashiering  the 
army  we  have  in  Thrace,  it  must  be  considerably 
reinforced  and  strengthened  by  new  levies,  in  order 
that,  as  Philip  has  always  one  in  readiness  to  oppresr 
and  enslave  the  Greeks,  we,  on  our  side,  may  alway 
have  one  on  foot  to  defend  and  preserve  them.' 
There  is  reason  to  believe  Demostheoes's  advice  wa 
followed. 

The  same  year  that  this  oration  was  spoken,3 
Arymbas,  king  of  the  Molossi  or  Epirus  died.  He 
was  son  of  Alcetns,  and  had  a  brother  called  Neopto 


>  It  was  rm.cil  llif  «X. 
•  Diod  1.  xvi.  p.  4G5. 


*  In  Thrace. 


emus,  whose  daughter  Olympias  was  married  to 
r'hilip.  This  Neoptolemus,  by  the  influence  and 
authority  of  his  son-in-law,  WHS  raisea  «o  high  as  to 
share  !he  regal  power  with  his  elder  brother,  to 
whom  only  it  lawfully  belonged.  This  first  unjust 
action  was  followed  by  a  greater.  For  after  the 
dentil  of  Arymbas,1*  Philip  played  hi«  part  so  well, 
either  by  his  intrigues  or  his  menaces,  that  the 
VIolossiang  expelled  ./Eacidas,  son  and  lawful  suc- 
cessor to  Arymbas,  and  established  Alexander,  son  of 
A  eoptolemus,  sole  king  of  Epirus.  This  prince,  who 
was  not  only  brother-in-law,  but  son-in-law,  to 
Philip,  whose  daughter  Cleopatra  he  had  married  n» 
will  be  observed  in  the  sequel,  carried  his  arms  intc 
Italy,  and  there  died.  After  this  ./Eacida?  re-ascend 
ed  the  throne  of  his  ancestors,  reigned  alo;ie  in  Epi 
rus,  and  transmitted  the  crown  to  his  son,  the  famous 
Pyrrhus  (so  c<  lebrated  in  the  Roman  history)  !tnd 
second  cousin  to  Alexander  the  Great,  Alcetas  being 
randfather  to  both  those  monarchs. 
Philip,  after  his  expedition  in  lllyria  and  Thrace, 
turned  his  views  towards  Peloponnesus,  Terrible 
commotions  prevailed  at  that  time  in  this  part  ot 
Greece.5  Lncedamonia  assumed  the  sovereignty 
of  it,  with  no  other  right  than  that  of  being  the 
strongest.  Argos  and  Messene  being  oppressed,  had 
recourse  to  Philip.  He  had  just  before  concluded  a 
peace  with  the  Athenians,  who,  on  the  faith  of  their 
orators  that  had  been  bribed  by  this  prince,  imagined 
he  was  going  to  break  with  the  Thebans.  However 
so  far  from  that,  after  having  subdued  Phocis,  he 
divided  the  conquest  with  them.  The  Thebani 
embraced  with  joy  the  favourable  opportunity  which 

'resented  itself,  of  opening  him  a  g»te  through  which 
e  might  pass  into  Peloponnesus,  in  which  country 
the  inveterate  hatred  they  bore  to  Sparta  made  them 
foment  divisions  perpetually,  and  continue  ihe  war 
They  therefore  solicited  Philip  to  join  with  them, 
the  Messenians,  and  Argives,  in  order  to  humble  in 
concert  the  power  of  Laceriaemonia. 

This  prince  readily  came  into  an  alliance  which 
suited  his  views.  He  proposed  to  the  Amphictyons* 
or  rather  dictated  to  them,  the  decree,  which  ordain 
ed  that  Lacedaemonia  should  permit  Argos  and  Mes- 
sene  to  enjoy  an  entire  independence,  pursuant  to  the 
tenor  of  a  treaty  lately  concluded  ;  and,  upon  pretence 
of  not  exposing  the  authority  of  the  states-general  of 
Greece,  he  ordered  at  the  same  time  a  large  body  of 
troops  to  march  that  way.  LacedcEinonia,  being  justly 
alarmed,  requested  the  Athenians  to  succour  them; 
and  by  an  embassy  pressed  earnestly  for  the  conclu- 
ding of  such  an  alliance  as  their  common  safety  might 
require.  The  several  powers,  whose  interest  it  was 
to  prevent  this  alliance  from  being  concluded,  used 
their  utmost  endeavours  to  gain  their  ends.  Philip 
represented,  by  his  ambassadors  to  the  Athenians, 
that  it  would  be  very  wrong  in  them  to  declare  war 
against  him;  that  if  he  did  not  break  with  the 
Thebans,  his  not  doing  so  TBS  no  infraction  of  the 
treaties;  that  before  he  could  have  broken  his  word 
in  this  particular,  he  must  first  have  given  it;  aiid  that 
the  treaties  themselves  proved  manifestly  that  he  had 
not  made  any  promise  to  that  purpose.  Philip  indeed 
said  true,  with  regard  to  the  written  articles  and  the 
public  stipulations;  but  ./Eschines  had  made  thr's  pro- 
mise by  word  of  mouth  in  his  name.  On  the  othe. 
side,  the  ambassadors  of  Thebes,  of  Argos  and  Mes- 
sene,  were  also  very  urgent  with  the  Athenians,  and 
reproached  them  with  having  already  secretly  favour- 
ed the  Lacedaemonians  but  too  much,  who  were  the 
professed  enemies  to  the  Thebaas  and  the  tyrants  of 
Peleponnesus. 

But  Demosthenes,8  insensible  to  all  these  solir.ita 
tion?,  and  mindful  of  nothing  but  the  real  interest  ol 
his  country,  ascended  the  tribunal,  in  order  to  en 
force  the  negotiation  of  the  Lacedaemonians.  He 
reproached  the  Athenians,  according  to  his  usual 
custom,  with  supineness,  and  indolence.  He  exposes 
the  ambitious  designs  of  Philip,  which  he  still  pur* 


*  Justin,  book  viii.  rli.  6,  curtails  the  genealogy  of  this 
prince,  nn<l  confounds  this  sucrpcsion. 

*  Domosth.  in  Fhilipp.  ii.    Libaa  in  Demosth. 

*  Philip,  ii 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


515 


»ues,  and  declares  that  they  aim  at  no  less  than  the 
conquest  of  all  Greece.  "  You  excel,"  says  he  to 
them,  "  both  you  and  he,  in  that  circumstance  which 
is  the  object  of  your  application  and  your  cares.  You 
speak  better  than  he,  and  he  acts  better  than  you. 
The  experience  of  the  past  ought  at  least  to  open  your 
eves,  and  make  you  mare  suspicious  and  circumspect 
with  regard  to  him:  but  this  serves  no  other  purpose 
than  to  lull  you  asleep.  At  this  time  his  troops  are 
marching  towards  Peloponnesus;  he  is  sending  money 
to  it.  and  his  arrival  in  person,  at  the  head  of  a  pow- 
erful army. is  expected  every  moment.  Do  you  think 
that  you  will  be  secure,  after  he  shall  have  possessed 
himself  t  f  the  territories  round  you?  Art  has  invent- 
ed for  the  security  of  cities  various  methods  of  de- 
fence, as  ramparts,  v.  alls  ditches,  and  the  like  works; 
but  nature  surrounds  the  wise  with  a  common  bul- 
wark, which  covers  them  on  all  sides,  and  provides 
for  the  security  of  states.  What  is  this  bulwark?  It 
is  distrust."  He  concludes  with  exhorting  the  Athe- 
nians to  rouse  from  their  lethargy;  to  send  immedi- 
ate succour  to  the  Lacedaemonians:  and,  above  all, 
to  punish  directly  all  such  domestic  traitors  as  have 
deceived  the  people,  and  brought  their  present  cala- 
mities upon  them,  by  spreading  false  reports,  and 
employing  captious  assurances. 

The  Athenians  and  Philip  did  not  yet  come  to  an 
open  rupture;  whence  we  may  conjecture,  that  the 
latter  delayed  his  invasion  of  Peloponnesus,  in  order 
that  he  might  not  have  too  many  enemies  upon  his 
hands  at  the  same  time.  However,  he  did  not  sit  still, 
but  turned  his  views  another  way.  Philip  had  a  long 
time  considered  Euboea  as  well  calculated,  from  its 
situation,  to  favour  the  designs  he  meditated  against 
Greece;  and  in  the  very  beginning  of  his  reign,  had 
attempted  to  possess  himself  of  it.  He  indeed  set 
every  engine  to  work  at  that  time,  in  order  to  seize 
upon  that  island,  which  he  called  the  Shackles  of 
Greece.  But  the  Athenians,  on  the  other  side,  were 
highly  interested  in  not  suffering  it  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  an  enemy;  especially  as  it  might  be  joined 
lo  the  continent  of  Attica  by  a  bridge.  However, 
according  to  the  usual  custom,  they  continued  indo- 
lent whilst  Philip  pursued  his  conquests.  The  latter, 
who  was  continually  attentive  and  vigilant  over  his 
interest,  endeavoured  to  carry  on  an  intelligence  in 
the  island,  and  by  dint  of  presents  bribed  those  who 
had  the  greater  authority  in  it.  At  the  request  of 
certain  of  the  inhabitants,1  he  sent  some  troops  pri- 
vately thither:  possessed  himself  of  several  strong 
places:  dismantled  Porthmos,  a  very  important  for- 
tress in  Euboea,  and  established  three  tyrants  or  kings 
over  the  country.  He  also  seized  upon  Oreum,  one 
of  the  strongest  cities  of  Euboea,  of  which  it  possess- 
ed the  fourth  part:  and  established  five  tyrants  over 
it,  who  exercised  an  absolute  authority  there  in  hi* 
name. 

Upon  this,*  Plutarch  of  Eretria  sent  a  deputation 
to  the  Athenians,  conjuring  them  to  come  and  deli- 
ver that  island,  every  part  of  which  was  upon  the 
point  of  submitting  entirely  to  the  Macedonian.  The 
Athenians  upon  this  sent  some  troops  under  the  com- 
mand of  Phocion.  That  general  had  already  ac- 
quired great  reputation,8  and  will  have,  in  the  sequel, 
a  great  share  in  the  administration  of  afl'airs,  both 
foreign  and  domestic.  He  had  studied  in  the  Acade- 
my under  Plato,  and  afterwards  under  Xenocrates, 
and  in  that  school  had  formed  his  morals  and  his  life, 
upon  the  model  of  the  most  austere  virtue.  We  are 
told  that  no  Athenian  ever  saw  him  laugh,  weep,  or 
go  to  the  public  baths.  Whenever  he  went  into  the 
country,  or  was  in  the  army,  he  always  walked  bare- 
foot,4 and  without  a  cloak",  unless  the  weather  hap- 
pened to  be  in«upportablv  cold;  so  that  the  soldier* 
used  to  say,  laughing.  "See!  Phocion  has  got  his 
cloak  on;  it  is  a  sign  of  a  hard  winter." 

He  knew  that  eloquence  is  a  necessary  quality  in  a 
statesman,  for  enabling  hini  to  execute  happily  the 
great  designs  he  may  undertake  (luring  his  adminis- 


•  Demneth.  Philipp.  iii.  p.  93. 

•  Plutarch,  in  Phuc.  p.  746,  747. 
»  Plutarch,  in  Phoc.  p.  743.  745. 

4  Socrates  used  often  to  walk  'a  that  miner. 


tration.  He  therefore  applied  himse.f  particu.arly  to 
the  attainment  of  it  and  with  great  success.  Per- 
suaded that  it  is  with  words  as  with  coins,  of  wh.eh 
the  most  esteemed  are  those  that  with  less  weight 
have  most  intrinsic  value,  Phocion  had  formed  a  live- 
ly, close,  concise,  style,  which  expressed  a  great  many 
ideas  in  few  words.  Appearing  one  day  absent  in  an 
assembly,  where  he  was  preparing  to  speak,  he  was 
asked  the  reason  of  it;  "  I  am  considering."  says  he, 
"  whether  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  retrench  some 
part  of  the  discourse  which  I  am  to  make."  He  was 
a  strong  reasoner,  and  by  that  means  prevailed  over 
the  most  sublime  eloquence;  which  made  Demosthe- 
nes, who  had  often  experienced  tins,  whenever  he 
appeared  to  harangue  the  public,  say,  "There  is  the 
axe  which  cuts  awav  the  whole  effect  of  my  words." 
One  would  imagine  that  this  kind  of  eloquence  is  ab- 
solutely contrary  to  the  genius  of  the  vulgar,  who  re- 
quire the  same  things  to  be  often  repeated,  and  with 
greater  extent,  in  order  to  their  being  more  intelligi- 
ble. But  it  was  not  so  with  the  Athenians.  Lively, 
penetrating,  and  lovers  of  a  hidden  sense,  they  valued 
themselve»  upon  understanding  an  orator  at  half  a 
word,  and  really  understood  him.  Phocion  adapted 
himself  to  their  taste,  and  in  this  point  surpassed  even 
Demosthenes,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal. 

Phocion  observing,  that  those  persons  who  nt  this 
time  were  concerned  in  the  administration,  had  di 
vided  it  into  military  and  civil;  that  one  part, as  Eu 
bulus,  Aristophon,  Demosthenes,  Lycurgus,  and  Hy 
perides,  confined  themselves  merely  to  haranguing 
the  people  and  proposing  decrees';  that  the  other 
part,  as  Diopithes.  Leosthenes,  and  Chares,  advanced 
themselves  by  military  employments;  he  chose  rather 
to  initiate  the  conduct  of  Solon,  Aristides,  and  Peri 
cles,  who  had  known  how  to  unite  both  talents,  po 
litical  science  with  military  valour.  Whilst  he  was 
in  employment  peace  and  tranquillity  were  always 
his  object,  as  being  the  end  of  every  wise  govern 
ment;  and  yet  he  commanded  in  more  expeditions, 
riot  only  than  all  the  generals  of  his  time,  but  even 
than  all  his  predecessors.  He  was  honoured  with  the 
supreme  command  five-and-forty  time",  without  hav- 
ing once  asked  or  made  interest  for  it;  and  it  was  al- 
ways in  his  absence  that  he  was  appointed  to  com- 
mand the  armies.  The  world  was  astonished,  that 
bting  of  so  severe  a  turn  of  mind,  and  so  great  an 
enemy  to  flattery  of  every  kind,  he  should  know  how, 
in  a  manner,  to  fix  in  his  own  favour  the  natural  le- 
vity and  inconstancy  of  the  Athenians,  thou«h  he  fre- 
quently used  to  oppose  very  strenuously  their  will 
and  ca'price,  without  regard  to  their  captionsness  and 
delicacy.  The  idea  they  had  formed  to  themselves 
of  his  "probity  and  zeal  for  the  public  good,  extin- 
guished every  other  sentiment;  and  that,  according 
to  Plutarch,  was  what  generally  made  his  eloquence 
so  efficacious  and  triumphant. 

I  thought  it  necessary  to  five  the 
reader  this  slight  idea  "of  Phocion's  A.  M.  3663 
character,  because  frequent  mention  Ant.  J.  C.  341 
will  be  made  of  him  in  the  sequel.  It 
was  to  him  the  Athenians  gave  the  command  of  the 
force?  they  sent  to  the  aid  of  Plutarch  of  Eretria. 
But  this  traitor  repaid  his  benefactors  with  ingratitude, 
set  up  the  standard  against  them,  and  endeavoured 
openly  to  repulse  the  very  army  he  had  requested. 
However,  Phocion  was  not  at  a  loss  ho,w  to  act  upon 
this  unforeseen  perfidy ;  for  he  pursued  his  enterprise, 
won  a  battle,  and  drove  Plutarch  from  Eretria. 

After  this  great  success,  Phocion  returned  to  Athens 
but  he  was  no  sooner  gone,  than  all  the  allies  regret- 
ted the  absence  of  his  goodness  and  justice.  Though 
the  professed  enemy  of  every  kind  of  oppression  and 
extortion,  he  knew  how  to  insinuate  himself  into  the 
minds  of  men  with  art;  and  at  the  same  time  that  he 
made  others  fear  him,  he  had  the  rare  talent  of  mak- 
ing them  love  him  still  more.  He  one  day  made 
Chabrias  a  fine  answer,  who  appointed  him  to  jro 
with  ten  light  vessels  to  levy  the  tribute  which  cer- 
tain cities,  in  alliance  with  Athens,  paid  every  year. 
"To  what  purpose,"  says  he,  "  is  such  a  squadron? 
too  strong,  if  [  am  only  "to  visit  allies;  but  too  weak 
if  I  am  to  fight  enemies."  The  Athenians  knew  very 


516 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


well  by  tne  consequences,  the  signal  services  which 
I'hocioti's  great  capacity,  val'jui,  and  experience, had 
done  them  in  the  expedition  of  Eubcea;  for  Molos- 
sus,  who  succeeded  him,  and  who  took  upon  himself 
the  command  of  the  troops  after  that  general,  was  so 
unsuccessful,  that  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy 
Philip,1  who  did  not  lay  aside  tlie 

A.  M.  3664.  design  he  had  formed  of  conquering 
Ant.  J.  C.340.  all  Greece,  changed  his  plan  of  at- 
tack, and  sought  for  an  opportunity 
of  distressing  Athens  another  way.  He  knew  that 
tl.is  city,  from  the  barrenness  of  Attica,  stood  in 
greater  want  than  any  other  of  foreign  corn.  To  dis- 
pose at  his  discretion  of  their  supplies,  and  In  that 
means  starve  Athens,  he  marches  towards  Thrace, 
from  whence  that  city  imported  the  greatest  part  of 
its  provisions,  with  an  intention  to  besiege  Perinthui 
mid  Byzantium.  To  keep  his  kingdom  in  obedience 
during  his  absence,  he  left  his  son  Alexander  in  it, 
with  sovereign  authority,  though  he  was  but  fifteen 
years  old.  This  young  prince  gave,  even  at  that  time, 
proofs  of  his  courage;  having  defeated  certain  neigh- 
bouring states,  subject  to  Macedonia,  who  had  consi- 
dered the  king's  absence  as  a  very  proper  time  for 
executing  the  design  they  had  formed  of  revolting. 
This  happy  success  of  Alexander's  first  expeditions 
was  highly  agreeable  to  his  father,  and  at  the  same 
time  an  earnest  of  what  might  be  expected  from  him. 
But  fearing  le-t,  allured  by  this  dangerous  bait,  he 
should  abandon  himself  inconsiderately  to  his  vivacity 
and  fire,  he  sent  for  him  in  order  to  become  his  mas- 
ter, and  train  him  under  his  own  eye.  in  the  art  of  war. 

Demosthenes  still  continued  to  exclaim  against  the 
indolence  of  the  Athenians,  whom  nothing  could 
rouse  from  their  lethargy;  and  also  against  the  ava- 
ice  of  the  orators,  who,  bribed  by  Philip,  amused 
.he  people  under  the  specious  pretence  of  a  peace 
which  he  had  sworn  to,  yet  violated  openly  every 
day  by  the  enterprises  he  formed  against  the  com- 
monwealth. This  is  the  subject  of  his  orations,  call- 
ed the  Philippics. 

"  Whence  conies  it,"2  says  he,  "  that  all  the  Greeks 
formerly  panted  so  strongly  after  liberty,  and  now 
run  so  eagerly  into  servitude?  The  reason  is,  be- 
cause there  prevailed  at  that  time  among  the  people, 
what  prevails  no  longer  among  us;  that  which  tri- 
umphed over  the  riches  of  the  Persians;  which  main- 
tained the  freedom  of  Greece;  which  never  acted  in- 
consistently on  any  occasion  either  by  sea  or  by  land; 
but  wiiich  being  now  extinguished  in  every  heart. 
ha»  entirely  mined  our  affairs,  and  utterly  subverted 
the  constitution  of  Greece.  It  is  that  common  hatred, 
that  genera!  detestation,  in  which  they  held  every 
person  who  had  a  soul  abject  enough  to  sell  himself 
to  any  man  who  desired  either  to  enslave  or  even 
corrupt  Greece.  In  those  times,  to  accept  of  a  pre- 
sent was  a  capital  crime,  which  never  failed  of  being 
puuished  with  death.  Neither  their  orators  nor  their 
generals  exercised  the  scandalous  traffic  now  become 
S3  common  in  Athens,  where  a  price  is  set  upon  every 
tiling,  and  where  all  things  are  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder. 

"  In  these  happy  times,3  the  Greeks  lived  in  a  per 
feet  union,  founded  on  the  love  of  the  public  good, 
and  the  desire  of  preserving  and  defending  the  com- 
mon liberty.  B_ut  in  this  age,  the  states  abandon  one 
another,  and  give  themselves  up  to  reciprocal  dis- 
trusts and  jealousies.  All  of  them,  without  excep- 
tion. Arrives,  Thebans,  Corinthians,  Lacedaemonians 
Arcadians,  and  ourselves  no  less  than  others;  all,  all, 
I  nay,  form  a  separate  interest;  and  this  it  is thut  ren- 
ders the  common  enemy  so  powerful. 

"The  safety  of  Greece  consists,*  therefore,  in  our 
uniting  together  against  this  common  enemy,  if  that 
be  possible.  But  at  least,  as  to  what  concerns  each 
of  us  in  particular,  this  incontestible  maxim  should 
be  deeply  engraven  in  your  minds,  that  Philip  is  ac- 
tually attacking  you  at  this  time;  that  he  has  infringed 
the  peace;  that,  by  selling  upon  all  the  fortresses 
around  you,  he  opens  and  prepares  the  way  for  at- 
tacking you  yourselves;  and  that  he  considers  us  as 


'  IVnioat.  pro  Ctei.  p.  486,  487.        »  Philipp.  iii.  p.  90. 
»  Ibid.  iv.  p.  102.  «  Ibid.  p.  97. 


his  mortal  enemies. because  he  know?  that  we  aretn* 
only  persons  capable  of  opposing  the  ambitions  de 
signs  he  entertains  of  grasping  universal  power. 

"  These  consequent IV  we  must  oppose  with  all  im 
aginable  vigour,5  and  for  that  purpose  must  ship  ofl. 
withont  loss  of  time  the  necessary  aids  for  the  Cher- 
sonesus  and  Byzantium;  you  mu.-t  provide  instantly 
whatever  ntcessar.es  your  generals  may  require;  in 
fine,  you  must  concert  together  such  means  as  are 
most  proper  to  save  Greece,  which  is  now  thn  aU  ned 
with  the  utmost  danger.  Though  all  the  rest  of  the 
Greeks  should  bow  their  necks  to  the  yoke,6  )  ct  you 
O  Athenians!  ought  to  persist  in  fighting  always  fo 
the  cause  of  Liberty.  Alter  such  preparations  mad 
in  presence  of  all  Greece,  let  us  excite  all  otht  r  state 
to  second  us:  let  us  acquaint  every  people  with  ou 
resolutions,  and  send  ambassadors  to  Peloponnesus 
Rhodes,  Chic;,  and  especially  to  the  king  of  Persia1 
for  it  is  his  interest,  as  well  as  ours,  to  check  the  ca- 
reer of  that  man." 

The  sequel  will  show,  that  Demosthf  nes's  advice 
was  followed  almost  exactly.  At  the  time  he  was  de- 
claiming in  this  iiiinner,  Philip  was  marching  towards 
the  Chersonevjs.  He  opened  the  campaign  with  the 
siege  of  Perinthus,  a  considerable  city  of  Thrace 
The  Athenian.?  having  prepared  a  body  of  troops  to 
succour  that  place,7  the  orators  prevailed  so  far  by 
their  speeches,  that  Chares  was  appointed  commander 
of  the  fleet.  This  general  was  universally  despised 
for  his  manners,  rapine,  and  mean  capacity;  but  in- 
trigues and  influence  supplied  the  place  of  merit  on 
this  occasion,  and  faction  prevailed  over  the  counsels 
of  the  most  prudent  and  virtuous  men,  as  happens  but 
too  often.  The  success  answered  the  rashness  of  the 
choice  which  h&d  been  made:  but  what  could  be  ex- 
pected from  a  general  whose  abilities  were  as  small  as 
his  voluptuousness  was  great,8  who  took  along  with 
him,  in  his  military  expeditions,  a  band  of  mu.-irians 
both  vocal  and  instiumental,  who  were  in  his  pay 
and  whose  salary  was  defrayed  out  of  the  moneys  ap- 
pointed for  the  service  of  the  fleet!  In  short,  the  ci- 
ties themselves,  to  whose  succour  he  was  sent,  would 
not  suffer  him  to  come  into  their  harbours;  so  that 
his  fidelity  being  universally  suspected,  he  was 
obliged  to  sail  from  coast  to  coast,  ransoming  the  al 
lies,  and  contemned  bv  the  enemy. 

In  the  mean  time,9  Philip  was  carrying  on  the  siego 
of  Perinthus  with  great  vigour.  He'had  30,000  cho- 
sen troops,  and  military  engines  of  all  kinds  without 
number.  He  had  raised  towers  eighty  cubit*  high 
which  far  out-topped  those  of  the  Perinthians.  He 
therefore  had  a  great  advantage  in  battering  their 
walls.  On  one  side  he  shook  the  foundations  of 
them  bv  subterraneous  mines:  and  on  the  other  he 
beat  down  whole  masses  with  his  battering  rams;  nor 
did  the  besieged  make  a  less  vigorous  resistance;  for 
as  soon  as  one  breach  was  made,  Philip  was  surprised 
to  see  another  wall  behind  it,  just  raised.  The  in- 
habitants of  Byzantium  sent  them  all  the  succours 
necessary.  The  Asiatic  satraps,  or  governor,  by  the 
king  of*  Persia's  order,  to  whom  we  have  seen 
the  Athenians  had  applied  for  assistance,  likewise 
threw  forces  into  the  place.  Philip,  in  order  to  de 
prive  the  oe»ieged  of  the  succours  the  Byzantines 
gave  them,  went  in  person  to  form  the  siege  of  that 
important  city,  leaving  half  his  army  to  carry  on  that 
of  Perinthus. 

He  was  desirous  to  appear  (in  outward  show)  very 
tender  of  giving  umbrage  to  the  Athenians,  v.huss 
power  he  dreaded,  and  whom  he  endeavoured  10 
amuse  by  fine  words.  At  the  time  we  now  speak  of, 
Philip,  bv  way  of  precaution  against  their"dis^ii-t  of 
his  measures,  wrote  a  letter  to  them,  in  which  he  en- 
deavours to  shake  off  the  edge  of  their  resentments, 
by  reproaching  them  in  the  strongest  terms  for  their 
infraction  of  the  several  treaties,  which  he  boasts  he 
has  observed  very  religiously:  in  this  piece  he  inter- 
spersed very  artfully  (for  he  was  a  great  master  of 
eloquence)  such  complaints  and  menaces  as  are  best 
calculated  to  restrain  mankind,  either  from  a  pnnci 


»  Philipp.  iii.  p.  88. 
'  Plut.  in  Phoc.  p.  747. 
•  Diod.l.  zvi.  p;  466— 408. 


Ibid,  iii  p.  94,  95. 
Alhen. ..  iii.  p.  5 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP 


517 


pie  of  ft-ar  or  shame.  This  letter  is  a  masterpiece  in 
the  original.  A  majestic  and  persuasive  vivacity 
shims  in  every  part  of  it;  a  strength  and  justness  of 
reasoning  sustained  throughout;  a  plain  and  unaf- 
fected diclariili  MI  of  facts,  each  of  which  is  followed 
by  its  inlural  consequence;  a  delicate  irony;  in  fine, 
that  noble  and  concise  st\  le  which  is  so  well  suited 
to  crowned  heads.  We  might  here  very  jnstlv  apply 
to  I'liilip,  what  \vas  said  of  C.esar,1  "  '1'hat  he  han- 
dled the  pen  as  well  as  he  did  the  sword." 

This  letter  is  so  long,  and,  besides,  is  filled  with  so 
great  a  number  of  particular  facts  (though  each  of 
tht-se  are  important,)  that  it  will  not  admit  of  being 
reduced  to  extracts,  or  to  have  a  connected  abridg- 
ment made  of  it.  I  shall  therefore  cite  but  one  pis- 
age,  by  which  the  reader  may  form  a  judgment  of 
the  rest. 

"  At  the  time  of  our  most  o\yen  rupture*,"  says 
Philip  to  the  Athenians,  "you  went  no  farther  than 
to  fit  out  privateers  against  me;  to  seize  anil  sell  the 
merchants  that  came  to  trade  in  my  dominions;  to 
favour  any  patty  that  opposed  my  measures;  and  to 
infest  tlit-  places  subject  to  me  by  your  hostilities: 
but  now  you  carry  hatred  and  injustice  to  such  pro- 
digious lengths,  as  even  to  send  ambassadors  to  the 
Persian,  in  unit  r  to  excite  him  to  declare  war  against 
me.  This  uui-t  appear  a  most  astonishing  circum- 
stance; for  before  he  had  made  himself  master  of 
Egypt  and  Phu-nicia,  you  had  resolved,  in  the  most 
solemn  manner,  that  in  case  he  should  attempt  any 
new  cntt -rpri«e, you  then  would  invite  me,  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  the  Greeks,  to  unite  our  forces 
asiiii-t  him:  and,  nevertheless,  at  this  time  you  carry 
your  hatred  to  such  a  height  a-  to  negotiate  an 
»lli.in«:e  witli  him  agam?t  me.  I  have  been  told,  that 
formnlv  \  our  fathers  imputed  to  the  son  of  Pisistratus, 
as  an  unpardonable  crime,  his  having  requested  the 
succour  of  the  Persians  against  the  Greeks;  and  yet 
you  do  nnt  blush  to  commit  yourselves  what  you 
were  perpetually  condemning  in  the  person  of  your 
tyrants." 

Philip's  letter  did  him  as  much  service  as  a  good 
manifesto,  and  gave  his  pensioners  in  Athens  a  fine 
opportunity  of  justifying  him  to  people  who  were 
very  desirous  of  easing  themselves  of  (wlitical  in- 
qui<  tu  <  s,  and  greater  enemies  to  expense  and  labour, 
than  to  usurpation  aud  tyranny.  The  boundless  ambi- 
tion of  Philip  and  the  tloquent  zeal  of  Demosthenes 
were  perpetually  clashing.  There  was  neither  a 
peace  nor  a  truce  between  them.  The  one  covered 
very  in  iustrinu-lv,  with  a  specious  pretence,  his  enter- 
pri-r-  and  infractions  of  the  treaty;  and  the  other 
endeavoured  as  strongly  to  reveal  the  true  motives 
of  them  to  a  people  whose  resolutions  had  a  great 
inlluence  with  respect  to  the  fate  of  Greece.  On  this 
ocra-i  .Hi,  Demosthenes  was  sensible  how  highly 
v  it  was  to  erase,  as  soon  as  possible,  the  first 
impressions  which  the  peru-al  of  this  letter  might 
make  on  the  minds  of  the  Athenians.  Accordingly, 
that  zealous  patriot  immediately  ascendt  the  tribunal. 
He  at  first  speaks  in  an  affirmative  tone  of  voice, 
which  is  often  more  than  half,  and  sometimes  the 
whole  proof  in  the  eyes  of  the  multitude.  He  affixes 
to  the  heavy  complaints  of  Philip  the  idea  of  an 
express  declaration  of  war;  and  then,  to  animate  his 
fillm-  citizen?,  to  fill  them  with  confidence  in  the 
resolution  with  which  he  inspires  them,  he  assures 
them  that  all  things  portend  the  impending  ruin  of 
Philip:  the  gods,  Greeks,  Persians,  Macedonians,  and 
even  I'liilip  himself.  Demosthenes  does  not  observe 
a  his  harangue,  the  exact  rules  of  refutation;  he 
avoids  contesting  facts  which  iiit^ht  have  been  distal - 
vantaiM'otis,  so  happily  had  Philip  disposed  them,  aii(J 
so  well  had  he  supported  them  by  proofs  that  seemet 
an-«<  ralile. 

The  conclusion  which  this  orator  draws  from  all 
his  arguments  is  this:*  "  Convinced  of  these  truths 
O  Athenians!  and  strongly  persuaded  that  we  can 
no  longer  be  allowed  to  all'mii  that  we  enjoy  peace 
(for  Philip  has  now  dei  Sred  war  against  us  by  hi> 
letter,  mill  IIMS  |.in«r  done,  the  «ame  by  h'«  rmi'lurt.' 


Iviilnn  iiiiiiiui  <lixu.  ijuo  bdluvii.     QuiHdV.  I.  x.  c.  I. 
Hut   in  Plion.  p.  "-IS. 


you  ought  not  to  spare  either  the  public  treasure  or 
he  possessions  of  private  persons;  but  when  occa- 
«ion  shall  require,  haste  to  your  respective  standards, 
and  set  abler  generals  at  your  head  than  those  you 
lave  hitherto  employed.  For  no  one  among  you 
ought  to  imagine,  that  the  same  men  who  have  ruined 
four  affairs  will  be  able  to  restore  them  to  tiieir 
"inner  happy  situation.  Think  how  infamous  it  is, 
that  a  man  from  Macedon  should  contemn  dangers 
to  such  a  degree,  that,  merely  to  aggranelize  his 
empire,  he  should  rush  into  the  midst  of  combats,  end 
return  from  battle  covered  with  wounds;  and  that 
Athenians,  whose  hereditary  right  it  is  to  ob«y  no 
nan,  but  to  impose  laws  on  others  sword  in  hand; 
that  Athenians,  I  say,  merely  through  dejection  of 
pirit  and  indolence,  should  degenerate  from  the 
jlory  of  their  ancestors,  and  abandon  the  interest 
of  their  country." 

At  the  very  time  they  were  examining  this  affair, 
news  was  brought  of  the  shameful  reception  Chares 
bad  met  with  from  the  allies,  which  raised  a  general 
murmur  among  the  people,  who  now,  fired  with 
indignation,  greatly  repented  their  having  sent  aid  to 
the  Byzantines.  Phocion  then  rose  up,  and  told  the 
people,  "That  they  ought  not  to  be  exasperated  at 
the  distrust  of  the  allies,  but  at  the  conduct  of  the 
generals  who  had  occasioned  it.  For  it  is  these," 
continued  he,  "  who  render  you  odious  and  formi- 
dable even  to  those  who  cannot  save  themselves  from 
destruction  without  your  assistance."  And  indeed 
Chares,  as  we  have  already  observed,  was  a  general 
without  valour  or  military  knowledge.  His  whole 
merit  consisted  in  having  gained  a  great  ascendant 
over  the  people  by  the  haughty  and  bold  air  which 
he  assumed.  His  presumption  concealed  his  inca- 
pacity from  himself;  and  a  sorc'm  principle  of  avarice 
made  him  commit  as  many  blunders  as  enterprises. 

The  people,  struck  with  this  dis- 
course, immediately  changed  their  A.  M.  3665. 
opinion,  and  appointed  Phocion  him-  Ant.  J.  C.  339. 
self  to  command  a  body  of  fresh 
troops,  in  oreler  to  succour  the  allies  upon  the  Hel- 
lespont. This  choice  contributed  more  than  any 
thing  to  the  preservation  of  Byzantium.  Phocion 
had  already  acquired  great  reputation,  not  only  for 
his  valour  and  ability  in  the  art  of  war,  but  still  more 
for  his  probity  and  disinteie-tedness.  The  Byzan- 
tines, on  his  arrival,  opened  their  gates  to  him  with 
joy,  and  lodged  his  soldiers  in  their  houses,  as  if 
they  had  been  their  own  brothers  and  children.  The 
Athenian  officers  and  soldiers,  struck  with  the  confi- 
dence reposed  in  them,  behaved  with  the  utmost 
prudence  and  modesty,  and  were  entirely  irreproach 
able  in  their  conduct.  Nor  were  they  less  admired 
for  their  courage;  and  in  all  the  attacks  they  sustain- 
ed, discovered  the  utmost  intrepidity,  which  seemed 
to  be  animated  by  the  sight  of  danger.  Phocion'* 
prudence,8  seconded  by  the  bravery  of  his  troops, 
soon  forced  Philip  to  abandon  his  design  upon  By- 
zantium and  Perinthus.  This  very  mu<  h  diminished 
his  fame  and  glory;  for  he  hitherto  had  been  thought 
invincible,  and  nothing  had  been  able  to  oppose  him. 
Phocion  took  some  of  his  shi|»s,  recovered  many 
fortresse-s  which  he  had  garrisoned;  and  having  made 
several  descents  upon  different  parts  of  his  territories, 
he  plundered  all  the  open  country,  till  a  body  of 
forces  having  assembled  to  check  his  progress,  he  was 
obliged  to  retire,  after  having  been  wounded. 

The  Byzantines  and  Perinthians  testified  their 
gratitude  to  the  people  of  Athens  by  a  very  honoura- 
ble decree,*  preserved  by  Demosthenes  in  one  of  his 
orations,  the  substance  of  which  I  shall  repeat  here. 
"Under  Hosphoricus  the  Pontiff,5  Damagetu«,  after 
having  desired  leave  of  the  senate  to  sjieak,  said,  in 
a  full  assembly:  Inasmuch  as  in  times  past  the  con- 
stant good  will  of  the  people  of  Athens  towards  the 
KvzHiitints  and  Perinthiani.  united  by  alliance  and  a 
common  origin,  has  never  failed  upon  any  occasion; 
as  this  goodwill,  so  often  signalized,  ha*  lately  -!i«- 
plaved  itself,  when  Philip  of  Macedon  (who  hja4 

>  Hi,.,!  1.  iri. 


.. 

»  ||'  (>re.l,aMy  wa*  the  chief  magistrate. 


518 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


laken  up  arms  to  destroy  Byzantium  and  Perinthus) 
battered  our  walls,  burnt  our  country,  cut  down  our 
forests;  as  in  a  season  of  so  great  calamity  this  benefi- 
cent people  has  succoured  us  with  a  fleet  of  120  sail, 
furnished  with  provisions,  arms,  and  forces;  as  they 
have  saved  us  from  the  greatest  danger;  in  fine,  as 
they  have  restored  us  to  the  quiet  possession  of  our 
government,  our  laws,  and  ourtombs,  the  Byzantines 
and  Perinthians  by  a  decree,  grant  to  the  Athenians 
liberty  to  settle  in  the  countries  belonging  to  Perin- 
tbus  and  Byzantium;  to  marry  in  them,  to  purchase 
lands  and  to  enjoy  all  the  prerogatives  of  citizens: 
they  also  grant  them  a  distinguished  place  at  public 
shows,  and  the  right  of  sitting  both  in  the  senate  and 
the  assembly  of  the  people,  next  to  the  pontiffs:  and 
farther,  that  every  Athenian,  who  shall  think  proper 
to  settle  in  either  of  the  two  cities  above  mentioned, 
shall  be  exempted  from  taxes  of  any  kind:  that,  in 
the  harbour,  three  statues  of  sixteen  cubits  each  shall 
be  set  up,  which  statues  shall  represent  the  people 
of  Athens  crowned  bv  those  of  Byzantium  and  Perin- 
thus: and,  besides,  that  presents  shall  be  sent  to  the 
four  solemn  games  of  Greece;  and  that  the  crown 
we  have  decreed  to  the  Athenians  shall  there  be 
proclaimed:  so  that  the  same  ceremony  may  acquaint 
all  the  Greeks,  both  with  the  magnanimity  of  the 
Athenians,  and  the  gratitude  of  the  Perinthians  and 
Byzantines." 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Chersonesns  made  a  like 
decree,  the  tenor  of  which  is  as  follows:  "Among 
the  nations  inhabiting  the  Chersonesns,  the  people 
of  Se.«tos,  of  Eleontum,  of  Madytis,  and  of  Alopecon- 
nesus,  decree  to  the  people  and  senate  of  Athens  a 
crown  of  gold  of  sixty  talents;1  and  erect  two  altars, 
the  one  to  the  goddess  of  gratitude,  and  the  other  to 
the  Athenians,  for  their  having,  by  the  most  glorious 
of  all  benefactions,  freed  from  the  yoke  of  Philip  the 
people  of  the  Chersonesus,  and  restored  them  to  the 
possession  of  their  country,  their  laws,  their  liberty, 
and  their  temples:  an  act  of  beneficence  which  they 
will  fix  eternally  in  their  memories,  and  never  cease 
to  acknowledge  to  the  utmost  of  their  power.  All 
which  they  have  resolved  in  full  senate." 

Philip,2  after  having  been  forced  to  raise  the  siege 
of  Byzantium,  marched  against  Atheas,  king  of  Scy- 
thia,  from  whom  he  had  received  some  personal 
cause  of  discontent,  and  took  his  son  with  him  in  this 
expedition.  Though  the  Scythians  had  a  very 
numerous  army,  he  defeated  them  without  any  diffi- 
culty. He  got  a  very  great  booty,  which  consisted 
not  in  gold  or  silver,  the  use  and  value  of  which  the 
Scythians  were  not  as  yet  so  unhappy  as  to  know: 
but  in  cattle,  in  horses,  and  a  great  number  of  women 
and  children. 

At  his  return  from  Scythia,  the  Triballi,  a  people 
of  Moesia,  disputed  his  passage,  laying  claim  to  part 
of  the  plunder  he  was  carrying  off.  Philip  was  forced 
to  come  to  a  battle;  and  a  very  bloody  one  was 
fought,  in  which  great  numbers  on  each  side  were 
killed  on  the  spot.  The  king  himself  was  wounded 
in  the  thigh,  and  with  the  same  thrust  had  his  horse 
killed  under  him.  Alexander  flew  to  his  father's 
aid;  and,  covering  him  with  his  shield,  killed  or  put 
to  flight  all  who  attacked  him. 

SECTION  VI. — PHILIP,  BY  HIS  INTRIGUES,  SUC- 
CEEDS IN  GETTING  HIMSELF  APPOINTED  GENE- 
RAUSSt.MO  OF  THE  GREEKS,  IN  THE  COUNCIL  OF 
THE  AMPHICTYONS.  HE  POSSESSES  HIMSELF 
OF  ELAT.EA.  THE  ATHENIANS  AND  THEBANS. 
ALARMED  BY  THE  CONQUEST  OF  THIS  CITY. 
UNITE  AGAINST  PHILIP.  HE  MAKES  OVERTURES 
OF  PEACE,  VHICH.  UPON  THE  REMONSTRANCES  OF 
DEMOSTHENES,  ARE  REJECTED.  A  BATTLE  IS 
FOUGHT  AT  CH.ERON.EA.  WHERE  PHILIP  GAINS  A 
SIGNAL  VICTORY.  DEMOSTHENES  IS  ACCUSED 
AND  BROUGHT  TO  A  TRIAL  BY  jESCHINES.  THE 
LATTER  IS  BANISHED,  AND  GOES  TO  RHODE3. 
THE  Athenians  had  considered  the  siege  of  Byznn- 

Uum  as  an  absolute  rupture,  and  an  open  declaration 


i  Sixty  thounanrl  Frcnra  erowus. 
»  Juitin.  1.  U.  c.  2,  'i. 


of  war.  The  king  of  Macedon,3  who  4  ... 
was  apprehensive  of  the  consequences  A  '  ,  p.  TQ 
of  it,  and  dreaded  very  much  the  A  •<»•»» 
power  of  the  Athenians,  whose  hatred  he  had  drawn 
upon  himself,  made  overtures  of  peace,  in  order  to 
soften  their  resentments.  Phocion,  nine  suspicion* 
and  apprehensive  of  the  uncertainly  of  the  events  of 
war,  was  of  opinion  that  the  Athenians  should  accept 
his  offers.  But  Demosthenes,  who  had  studied  the 
genius  and  character  of  Philip  more  than  Phooion, 
and  was  persuaded  that,  according  to  his  usual 
custom,  his  only  view  was  to  amuse  and  impose  upca 
the  Athenians,  prevented  their  listening  to  his  pacific 
proposals. 

It  was  very  much  the  interest  of  this  prince  to 
terminate  immediately  a  war, <  which  gave  him  great 
cause  of  disquiet,  and  particularly  distressed  him  by 
the  frequent  depredations  of  the  Athenian  privateer*, 
who  ini'e«ted  the  sea  bordering  upon  his  dominions. 
They  entirely  interrupted  all  commerce,  and  pre- 
rcnted  his  subjects  from  exporting  any  of  the  pro- 
ducts of  Macedonia  into  other  countries,  or  foreigners 
from  importing  into  his  kingdom  the  merchandise  it 
wanted.  Philip  was  sensible  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  him  to  put  an  end  to  this  war,  and  free  him- 
self from  the  inconveniences  attending  it,  otherwise 
than  by  exciting  the  Thessalians  and  Thebans  against 
Athens.  He  could  not  yet  attack  that  city  with  any 
advantage,  either  by  sea  or  land.  His  naval  force's 
were  at  this  time  inferior  to  those  of  that  republic; 
and  the  passage  by  land  to  Attica  would  be  shut 
against  him,  as  long  as  the  Thessalians  should  refuse 
to  join  him,  and  the  Thebans  should  oppose  his 
passage.  If,  with  the  view  of  prompting  them  to 
declare  war  against  Athens,  he  were  to  ascribe  no 
other  motive  for  it  than  his  private  enmity,  he  was 
very  sensible  that  it  would  have  no  effect  with  either 
of  the  states;  but  in  that  case  he  could  once  prevail 
with  them  to  appoint  him  their  chief  (upon  the 
specious  pretence  of  espousing  their  common  cause,) 
he  then  hoped  it  would  be  easier  for  him  to  make 
them  acquiesce  in  his  desires,  either  by  persuasion 
or  deceit. 

This  was  his  aim;  the  smallest  traces  of  which  it 
highly  concerned  him  to  conceal,  in  order  not  to 
give  the  least  opportunity  for  any  one  to  suspect  the 
design  he  meditated.  In  every  city  he  retained 
pensioners  who  sent  him  notice  of  whatever  passed, 
and  by  that  means  were  of  great  use  to  him,  and 
were  accordingly  well  paid.  By  their  machinations 
he  raised  divisions  among  the  Locri  Ozolae,  otherwise 
called  the  Lccrians  of  Amphissa,  from  the  name  of 
their  capital  city  :  their  country  was  situated  between 
jEtolia  and  Phocis;  and  they  were  accused  of  having 
profaned  a  spot  of  sacred  ground,  by  ploughing  up 
the  Cyrrhean  field,  which  lay  very  near  the  temple 
of  Delphi.  The  reader  has  seen  that  a  similar  cause 
of  complaint  occasioned  the  first  sacred  war.  The 
affair  was  to  be  heard  before  the  Amphictyons.  Had 
Philip  employed  in  his  own  favour  any  known  or 
suspicious  agent,  he  plainly  saw  that  the  Theban*and 
the  Thessalians  would  infallibly  suspect  his  design; 
in  which  case,  all  parties  would  not  fail  to  stand 
upon  their  guard. 

But  Philip  acted  more  artfully,  by  carrying  on  his 
designs  by  persons  in  the  dark,  which  entirely  pre- 
vented their  being  discovered.  By  the  assiduity  of 
his  pensioners  in  Athens,  he  had  caused  jEschines, 
who  was  entirely  devoted  to  him,  to  be  appointed 
one  of  the  Pylag-nri,  by  which  name  those  were 
called  who  were  sent  by  the  several  Greek  cities  to 
the  assembly  of  the  Amphictyons.  The  instant  h« 
came  into  it,  he  acted  the  more  effectually  in  favour 
of  Philip,  an,  from  being  a  citizen  of  Athens,  which 
had  declared  openly  against  this  prince,  he  wa»  less 
suspected.  Upon  his  remonstrances,  a  visit  to  the 
place  was  appointed,  in  order  to  inspect  the  .«pot  of 
ground,  of  which  the  Amphissians  had  hitherto  been 
considered  the  lawful  possessors,  but  which  they  now 
were  accused  of  usurping  by  a  most  sacrilegious  act. 


•  Plntaroh.  in  Phoc  p.  748. 
«  Demos t.  pro  Ctei.  p.  497,  493. 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP 


519 


W'uilst  the  Amphictyons  were  visiting  the  spot  of 
sjiound  in  question,  the  Locrians  fall  upon  them  una- 
wares, pour  in  a  shower  of  darts,  and  oblige  tin  in  to 
fly.  So  open  an  outrage  kindled  the  flames  of  resent- 
ment and  war  against  these  Locrians.  Cottyphus, 
one  of  the  Amphictyons,  took  the  field  with  the  army 
intended  to  pumsb  the  rebels;  but  many  not  coming 
to  ihe  rendezvous,  the  army  retired  without  acting. 
In  the  following  assembly  of  the  Ampliictyons,  the 
arfair  was  debated  very  seriously.  It  was  there  that 
the  orators  previously  bribed  by  Philip  exerted  all 
their  eloquence,  and  by  a  studied  oration,  proved  to 
the  deputies,  that  they  must  either  assess  them«elies 
to  support  foreign  suiuiers  and  punish  the  rebels,  or 
elie  elect  Philip  for  their  general.  The  deputies,  to 
•ova  their  respective  states  the  expense,  and  secure 
them  from  the  dangers  and  fatigues  of  a  war,  resolved 
•pen  the  latter.  Upon  which,  by  a  public  decree, 
•ambassadors  were  sent  to  Philip  of  Macedon,  who, 
in  the  name  of  Apollo  and  the  Amphictvons,  implore 
his  asristance,  beseech  him  not  to  neglect  the  cause 
of  that  god  which  the  impious  Amphissians  make 
their  sport;  and  notify  to  him,  that  for  this  purpose 
all  the  Greeks,  associated  in  the  council  of  the  Am- 
phictyons, elect  him  fur  their  general,  with  full  power 
to  act  as  he  shall  tliink  proper." 

This  was  the  honour  to  which  Philip  had  long  as- 
pired; the  aim  of  all  his  views,  and  end  of  all  the  en- 
gines he  had  set  at  work  till  that  time.  He  therefore 
did  not  lose  a  moment,  but  immediately  assembles 
his  forces;  and  feigning  to  direct  his  march  towards 
the  Cyrrhean  field,  forgetting  now  both  the  Cyr- 
rheans  and  Locrians  who  had  only  served  as  a  spe- 
cious pretext  for  hi«  journey,  and  for  whom  he  had 
not  the  least  regard;  he  possessed  himself  of  Elataea, 
the  greatest  city  in  Phocis,  standing  on  the  river  Ce- 
phissus,  and  the  most  happily  situated  for  the  design 
he  meditated,  of  awing  the  Thebans,  who  now  began 
to  open  their  eyes,  and  to  perceive  the  danger  they 
were  in. 

This  news  being  brought  to  Athens  in  the'evenine,1 
spread  terror  through  every  part  of  the  city.  Tne 
next  morning  an  assembly  was  summoned,  when  the 
herald,  as  was  the  usual  custom,  cries  with  a  loud 
voice,  "Who  among  you  will  ascend  the  tribunal?" 
However,  no  person  appears  for  that  purpose:  upon 
which  he  repeated  the  invitation  several  times:  but 
still  no  one  rose  up,  though  all  the  generals  and  ora- 
tors were  present;  and  although  the  common  voice 
of  the  country,  with  repeated  cries,  conjured  some- 
body to  propose  some  salutary  counsel:  For,  says 
Demosthenes  (from  whom  these  particulars  are  taken,) 
whenever  the  voice  of  the  herald  speaks  in  the  name 
of  the  laws,  it  ought  to  be  considered  as  the  voice  of 
the  country.  During  this  general  silence,  occasioned 
by  the  universal  alarm  with  which  the  minds  of  the 
Athenians  were  seized,  Demosthenes, animated  at  the 
sight  of  the  great  danger  his  fellow-citizens  were  in, 
ascends  the  tribunal,  and  endeavours  to  revive  the 
spirits  of  the  drooping  Athenians,  and  inspire  them 
with  sentiments  suitable  to  the  present  conjuncture 
and  the  necessities  of  the  state.  Excelling  equally 
in  politics  and  eloquence,  by  the  extent  of  his  supe- 
rior genius,  he  immediately  suggests  a  plan  which  in- 
cludes ail  that  was  necessary  for  the  Athenians  to 
Cerform  both  at  home  and  abroad,  by  land  as  well  a* 
y  sea. 

The  people  o(  Athens  were  under  a  double  error 
with  regard  to  the  Thebans,  and  he  therefore  endea- 
vours to  undeceive  them.  They  imagined  that  peo- 
ple were  inviolably  attached,  both  from  interest  and 
inclination,  to  Philip;  but  he  proves  to  them,  that  the 
majority  of  the  Thebans  wailed  only  an  opportunity 
to  declare  against  that  monarch,  and  that  the  con- 
quest of  Elataea  has  apprized  them  of  what  they  are 
to  expect  frori  bim.  On  the  other  side,  they  looked 
upon  the  The\_»ns  as  their  most  ancient  and  most 
dangerous  enemies,  and  therefore  could  not  prevail 
with  themselves  to  afford  them  the  least  aid  in  the 
extreme  danger  with  which  thev  were  threatened. 
It  must  be  confessed,  that  there  had  alwa\s  been  a 
declared  ennutv  between  trie  T  heKans  and  Atheni- 
~T  Demu:<  p'i  Ctcs.  ji.  501—504.  Dkxl.  lib.  xvi.  p.  477. 


ans,  which  rose  so  high  that  Pindar  was  sentenced 
by  the  Theban*  to  ]>ay  a  considerable  fine  for  having 
applauded  the  city  of  Athens  in  one  of  his  poems? 
Demosthenes,  notwithstanding  that  prejudice  had  ta 
ken  such  deep  root  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  yet 
declares  in  their  favour;  and  proves  to  the  Athenians 
that  their  own  interest  lies  at  stake;  and  that  they 
could  not  please  Philip  more,  than  in  leaving  Thtbes 
to  his  mercy,  the  ruin  of  which  would  open  him  a 
Iree  passage  to  Athens. 

Demosthenes  afterwards  unfolds  to  them,  the  views 
of  Philip  in  taking  that  city.  "  What  then  is  his  de- 
sign, and  wherefore  did  he  possess  himse/  if  KI:-.t:rti? 
He  is  desirous,  on  one  side,  to  encourage  >r,ose.  of  hi* 
faction  in  Thebes,  and  to  inspire  them  with  greater 
boldness,  by  appearing  at  the  head  of  his  army,  and 
advancing  his  power  and  forces  around  that  city".  On 
the  other  s'uie,  he  wishes  to  strike  unexpectedly  the 
opposite  faction,  and  stun  them  in  such  a  manner  M 
may  enable  him  to  get  the  better  of  it  either  by  ter- 
ror or  force.  Philip,"  says  he,  "  prescribes  the  man- 
ner in  which  you  ought  to  act,  by  the  example  he 
himself  sets  you.  Assemble,  at  Kleusis,  a  body  of 
Athenians,  ol  an  age  fit  for  service,  and  support  these 
by  your  cavalry.  By  this  step  you  will  show  all 
Greece  that  you  are  ready  armed  to  defend  yourselves, 
and  inspire  your  partisans  in  Thebes  with  such  reso 
lution,  as  may  enable  them  both  to  support  their  rea- 
sons, and  to  make  head  against  the  opposite  party, 
when  they  shall  perceive,  that  as  those  who  sell  their 
country  to  Philip,  have  forces  in  Elataea  ready  to  ai- 
sist  them  upon  occasion,  in  like  manner  those  who 
are  willing  to  fight  for  the  preservation  of  their  own 
liberties,  have  you  at  their  gates  ready  to  defend  them 
in  case  of  an  invasion."  Demosthenes  added,  that  it 
would  be  proper  for  them  to  send  ambassadors  imme- 
diately to  the  different  states  of  Greece,  and  to  the 
Thebans  in  particular,  to  engage  them  in  a  common 
league  against  Philip. 

This  prudent  ana  salutary  advice  was  followed  in 
every  particular:  and  in 'consequence  thereof  a  de- 
cree was  formed,  in  which,  after  enumerating  the  se- 
veral enterprises  by  which  Philip  had  infringed  the 
peace,  it  continues  thus:  "For  this  reason  the  senate 
and  people  of  Athens,  calling  to  mind  the  magnani- 
mity of  their  ancestor?,  who  preferred  the  liberty  of  • 
Greece  to  the  safety  of  their  own  country,  have  re- 
solved, that,  after  offering  up  prayers  and  sacrifices  to 
call  down  the  assistance  of  the  tutelar  gods  and  de- 
migods of  Athens  and  Attica,  200  sail  of  ships  shall 
be  put  to  sea.  That  the  admiral  of  their  fleet  shall 
go,  as  soon  as  possible,  and  cruise  on  the  other  side 
of  the  pass  of  Thermopylae;  while  at  the  same  time 
the  generals  by  land,  at  the  head  of  a  considerable 
body  of  horse  and  foot,  shall  march  and  encamp  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Eleusis.  That  ambassadors 
shall  likewise  be  sent  to  the  other  Greeks;  but  first 
to  the  Thebans,  as  these  are  most  threatened  by  Phi- 
lip. Let  them  be  exhorted  not  to  have  any  dread  of 
Philip,  but  to  maintain  courageously  their  individual 
iiide|>endence,  and  the  common  liberty  of  all  Greece. 
And  let  it  be  declared  to  them,  that  though  formerlj 
some  subjects  of  discontent  maj  have  cooled  the  re- 
ciprocal friendship  between  them  and  us,  the  Atheni- 
ans, however,  obliterating  the  remembrance  of  past 
transactions,  will  now  assist  them  with  men,  money, 
darts,  and  all  kinds  of  military  weapons;  persuaded 
that  such  as  are  natives  of  Greece  may,  very  honour- 
ably, dispute  with  one  another  for  pre-emin"ence;  but 
that  they  can  never,  without  sullying  the  £lory  of  the 
Greeks,  and  derogating  from  the  virtue  of  their  an- 
cestors, suffer  a  foreigner  to  despoil  them  of  that  pre- 
eminence, nor  consent  to  so  ignominious  a  slavery." 

Demosthenes,  who  was  at  the  head  of  this  embas- 
sy,3 immediately  set  out  for  Thebes:  and  indeed  he 
had  no  time  to  lose,  since  Philip  might  reach  Attica 
in  two  days.  This  prince  also  sent  ambassadors  to 


*  He  had  called  A  then*  a  flourishing  andjenowned  city 
Ihe  bulwark  of  Greece.  Ai-s-'t*'  **•  ia>S-ft*i.  '£>.>.«*«» 
'f,,ru*.  x».iiv»,  >A5r«9i.  But  ihe  Athenian*  not  only  i> 
dcmtiinVd  the  poet,  and  wnt  him  money  to  pay  bit  fine,  bm 
even  erecteH  a  plume  in  honour  of  him 

»  Plut.  in  IXmiMih  p  853,  t54 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


Thebis  Among  these  Python  was  the  chief.1  who 
distinguished  himself'  greatly  by  his  livtlv  and  per- 
siiiiM\e  i  loquence,  which  it  was  scarce  possible  to 
with-t'ind ;  so  that  the  rest  of  the  deputies  were  mere 
b;il)!>Urs  in  comparison  to  him:  however,  here  he  met 
with  a  superior.  And,*  indeed,  Demosthenes,  in  an 
oration  where  he  relates  the  services  he  had  done  the 
commonwealth,  expatiates  very  strongly  on  this,  and 
places  the  happy  success,  of  so  important  a  negotia- 
tion at  the  head  of  his  political  exploits. 

*t  was  of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  Athenians 
to  draw  the  Thvoans  into  the  alliance,*  as  they  were 
neighbour;  to  Attira,  and  covered  it;  had  troops  ex- 
cellently well  disciplined,  and  had  been  considered, 
ever  since  the  famous  victories  of  Leu<  tra  and  Man- 
tinea,  as  holding  the  first  rank  among  the  several 
states  of  Greece  for  valour  and  military  skill.  To 
effect  this  was  no  easy  matter;  not  onlv  because  of 
the  great  service  which  Philip  had  lately  done  them 
during  the  war  of  Phocis,  but  likewise  because  of  the 
ancient  inveterate  antipathy  between  Thebes  and 
Athens. 

Philip's  deputies  spoke  first.  They  displayed,  in 
the  strongest  light,  the  kindness  with  which  '  Philip 
had  loaded  the  Thebans,  and  the  innumerable  evils 
which  the  Athenians  had  made  them  suffer.  They 
represented,  in  the  most  forcible  manner,  the  srreat 
bent-fit  they  might  reap  from  laying  Attica  waste,  the 
flocks,  goods,  and  power  of  which  would  he  carried 
into  their  city:  whereas,  by  joining  in  a  league  with 
the  Athenians,  Boeotia  would  thereby  become  the  seat 
of  war,  and  would  alone  suffer  the  losses,  depreda- 
tions, burnings,  and  all  the  other  calamities  which 
are  the  inevitable  consequences  of  it.  They  conclu- 
ded with  requesting,  either  that  the  Thebans  would 
join  their  forces  with  those  of  Philip  against  the 
Athenians;  or,  at  least,  permit  him  to  pass  through 
their  territories  to  enter  Attica. 

The  love  of  his  country,  and  a  just  indignation  at 
the  breach  of  faith  and  usurpations  of  Philip,  had  al- 
ready sufficiently  animated  Demosthenes:  but  the 
sight  of  an  orator;  who  seemed  to  contest  with  him 
the  superiority  of  eloquence,  inflamed  his  zeal,  and 
inspired  him  with  new  vigour.  To  the  captious  ar- 
guments of  Python  heop|X>sed  the  actions  themselves 
of  Philip,  and  particularly  the  late  taking  of  Elataca, 
which  evidently  discovered  his  designs.  He  repre- 
sented him  as  H  restless, enterprising,  ambitious,  craf- 
ty, perfidious  prince,  who  had  formed  the  design  of 
enslaving  all  Greece;  but  who,  to  succeed  the  Letter 
in  his  schemes,  had  the  caution  to  attack  the  different 
states  of  it  singly;  a  prince,  whose  pretended  benefi- 
cence was  only  a  snare  for  the  credulity  of  those  who 
did  not  know  him,  in  order  to  disarm  those  whose 
xeal  for  the  public  liberty  might  be  an  obstacle  to  his 
enterprises.  He  proved  to  them,  that  the  conquest  of 
Attica,  so  far  from  satinting  the  inordinate  avidity  of 
this  usurper,  would  only  give  him  an  opportunity  of 
subjecting  Thebes  and  the  rest  of  the  cities  of  Greece. 
That  therefore  the  interest  of  the  two  commonwealths 
being  henceforward  inseparable,  they  ought  to  erase 
entirely  the  remembrance  of  their  tormer  divi-ioiis, 
and  unite  their  forces  to  repel  the  common  enemy. 

The  Thebans  were  not  long  in  forming  their  reso- 
lutions.4 The  nervous  eloquence  of  Demosthenes, 
says  an  historian,  rushinglnto  their  souls  like  an  im- 
petuous wind,  rekindled  there  so  ardent  a  zeal  for 
their  country  and  go  mighty  a  passion  for  liberty, 
that,  banishing  from  their  minds  every  idea  of  fear, 
of  prudence,  or  ingratitude,  his  discourse  transported 
and  ravished  them  like  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  in- 
flamed them  solely  « i(h  the  love  of  true  glory.  Here 
we  have  a  proof  of  the  power  which  eloquence  has 
over  the  minds  of  men.  especially  when  it  is  heighten- 
ed by  a  love  and  zeal  for  the  public  good.  One  sin- 
gle mnii  swayed  all  things  at  his  will  in  the  assemblies 
of  Athens  and  Thebes,  in  both  which  cities  he  was 
equally  loved,  respected,  and  feared. 


•  This  Python  was  a  native  of  Byzantium.    The  Alheni- 
4n.»harl  prvwnird  him  with  the  freedom  of  thrir  city  ;  after 
which  lie  went  over  to  Philip.     Demoilk.  p.  JIM.  7J5. 

•  U>'inosth.  in  Oral.  proCnroii.  p.  5<O.  >  Ibid 

•  Tlicopomp.  apud  Plut,  in  vil.  Dcmosth.  p.  £54. 


Philip,  quite  disconcerted  by  the  union  of  these  ttro 
nations,  sent  ambassadors  t.)  the  Athenians,  to  request 
tht  m  DC  t  to  levj  an  armed  force,  but  to  live  in  har- 
mony with  him.  However,  they  were  too  j"*tly 
alarmed  and  exasperated,  to  listen  to  any  accommo- 
dation; and  would  no  longer  depend  on  the  word  of 
a  prince,  whose  sole  aim  was  to  deceive.  In  conse- 
quence, preparations  for  war  were  made  with  the  ut- 
most diligence,  and  the  soldiery  discovered  incredible 
ardour.  Many  evil-disposed  persons  endeavoured  to 
extinguish  or  damp  it,  by  relating  fatal  omc">  and 
terrible  predictions  which  the  priestess  of  Delphi  was 
said  to  have  uttered:  but  Demosthenes,  confiding 
firmly  in  the  arms  of  Greece,  and  encouraged  won- 
derfully by  the  number  and  bravery  ol  the  troops, 
who  desired  only  to  march  against  the  enemy,  would 
not  suffer  them  to  be  amused  with  these  oracles  anc 
frivolous  pedictions.  It  was  on  this  occasion  he  said 
that  the  priestess  PhilipfiizeJ,  impU  irg  by  this  n- 
pression  that  it  was  Philip's  money  that  inspired 
the  priestess,  opened  her  mouth,  ami  made  the  god 
«peak  whatever  she  thought  proper.  He  bade  the 
Thebans  remember  their  Kpaminondas,  and  the  Athe- 
nians their  Pericles,  who  considered  those  oracles 
and  predictions  as  idle  scarecrows,  and  consulted  rea- 
son alone.  The  Athenian  army  set  out  imnier.iatrly, 
and  marched  to  Eleu«is:  and  the  Theban?,  siii|>ri?ed 
at  the  diligence  of  their  confederates,  joined  them 
and  waited  the  approach  of  the  enemy. 

Philip,  on  the  other  side,  not  having  been  able  to 
prevent  the  Thebans  from  uniting  with  Athens,  not 
to  draw  the  latter  into  an  alliance  with  him,  a  —  rm- 
blcs  all  his  forces,  and  enters  Boeotia.  His  army  con 
sisted  of  30,000  foot  and  2000  horse:  thatol  his  tin  my 
was  not  quite  so  numerous.  The  valour  ol  the  troops 
may  be  said  to  have  been  equal  on  both  sides;  but 
the  merit  of  the  chiefs  was  notso.  And  indeed,  what 
warrior  could  be  compared  at  that  time  to  Philip? 
Iphicrates,  Chabrias,  Timotheus.all  famous  Athenian 
captains,  were  no  more.  Phocion,  indeed,  might 
have  opposed  him:  but,  not  to  mention  that  thi?  war 
had  been  undertaken  against  hi«  advice,  the  contrary 
faction  had  excluded  him  from  the  command, and  had 
appointed  as  generals,  Chares,  who  was  universally 
despised,  and  Ly«icles,  distinguished  for  nothing  but 
his  rash  and  presumptuous  audacity.  It  i»  the  choice 
of  such  leaders  as  these,  by  the  means  of  cabal  alone, 
that  paves  the  way  to  the  ruin  of  slutes. 

The  two.  armies  encamped  near  Chaeron:ra,  a  city 
of  Bteotia.  Philip  «ave  tht  command  ol  his  It  it  wing 
to  his  son  Alexander,  who  was  then  but  sixteen  or 
seventeen  years  old,  having  posted  his  ablest  officers 
near  him;  and  took  the  command  of  the  right  wing 
upon  himself.  In  the  opposite  army,  the  Thebans 
formed  the  right  wing,  and  the  Athenian:-  llie  left. 

At  sun-rise,  the  signal  was  given  on  both  sides. 
The  battle  was  obstinate  and  bloody,  and  the  victory 
a  long  time  dubious,  both  sidts  exerting  them-rlves 
with  astonishing  valour  and  bravery.  Altxander, 
even  at  that  time,  animated  with  a  noble  ardour  for 
glory,  and  endeavouring  to  .signalize  himself,  in  order 
to  answer  the  confidence  his  father  reposed  in  him, 
under  whose  eye  he  fought,  and  made  his  first  essay 
as  a  commander,  discovered  in  this  battle  all  the  ca- 
pacity which  could  have  been  expected  from  a  \fte- 
ran  general,  together  with  all  the  intrepidity  of  a 
young  warrior.  It  was  he  who  broke,  after  a  long 
and  vigorous  resistance,  the  facrcd  battalion  of  the 
Thebans,  which  was  the  flower  of  their  army.  Th* 
rest  of  the  troops  who  were  round  Alexander,  being 
encouraged  by  his  example,  entirt  ly  routed  ll.em. 

On  the  riuht  wing,  Philip,  who  was  determinoc 
not  to  yield  to  his  *on,  charged  the  Athenians  "ith 
«reat  vigour,  and  began  to  make  them  give  way 
However,  they  soon  resumed  their  courage,  and  re- 
covered their  first  post.  Lysicles,*  one  of  the  two 
generals,  having  broken  into  some  troop*  which  form- 
ed the  centre  of  the  Macedonians,  imagined  himself 
already  victorious;  and  hurried  on  by  rash  confluence, 
cried  out,  "  Come  on.  my  lads,  let  ns  pursue  them 
into  Macedonia."  Philip,  peyceivmg  thM  the  Athe- 
nians, in«te«'l  of  pro!iliii!r  by  the  advantage  th«y  had 


*  Polysen.  Stratag.  lib.  iv 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


5-21 


gamed,  tc  take  his  phalanx  in  flank,  pursued  his 
troops  too  vigorously,  said  cooly,  "The  Athenians 
do  nut  know  how  to  conquer."  Immediat<  ly  lie 
commanded  Ills  phalanx  to  wheel  about  to  a  little  em- 
inence.; ami  perceiving  that  the  Athenians,  in  disor- 
dt  r,  were  wholly  intent  upon  pursuing  those  they  had 
broken,  he  charged  them  with  his  phalanx;  and  at- 
ta<  kin.;  them  both  in  Hank  and  rear,  entirely  rout- 
ed them.  Demosthenes,  who  was  a  greater  states- 
man than  a  warrior,  and  more  capable  of  giving 
wfeotMOOM CMMM!  in  his  harangues,  than  of  support- 
ing them  by  an  intrepid  courage,  threw  down  his 
anus,  and  tied  with  the  rest.  It  is  even  said,1  that  in 
his  iliifhi  his  rube  being  caught  by  a  bramble,  he  ima- 
gine-i  that  some  of  the  enemy  had  laid  hold  of  him, 
and  cried  out,  "  Soare  my  life."  More  than  1000 
Athenian*  were  left  upon  the  field  of  battle,  and 
above  2000  taken  prisoners,  among  whom  v.-as  De- 
mades the  orator.  The  loss  was  as  great  on  the  The- 
ban  side. 

Philip,  after  having  erected  a  trophy,  and  ollered 
to  the  gods  a  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  tor  hU  victory, 
distributed  rewards  to  the  officers  and  so4diers,  to 
each  according  to  his  merit  and  the  rank  he  hel.l. 

His  conduct  alter  this  victory  shows,  that  it  is  much 
easier  to  overcome  an  enemy  than  to  conquer  one's 
stli",  and  triumph  over  one's  own  passions.  Upon 
his  coming  from  a  grand  entertainment  which  he  had 
given  hi*  officers,  being  equally  transported  with  joy 
and  the  fumes  of  wine,  he  hurried  to  the  spot  where 
the  battle  had  been  taught,  and  there,  insulting  the 
dead  bodies  with  which  the  field  was  covered,  he 
turned  inu  a  *i»n^  the  beginning  of  the  decree  which 
.c  nes  had  prepared  to  excite  the  Greeks  to 
tliis  war,  and  sang  thus,  (himself  beating  time,)  "  De- 
mosthenes the  I'eanian,  son  of  Demosthenes,  has  said," 
Every  bodv  was  shocked  to  see  the  king  dishonour 
him-!  If  l-y  this  behaviour,  and  suliy  his  glory  by  an 
act;  >n  -•)  unworthy  a  king  and  a  conqueror;  but  all 
kept  silence.  Demades  the  orator,  whose  soul  was 
free,  though  his  body  was  a  prisoner,  was  the  only 
person  wlo  ventured  to  make  him  sensible  of  the  in- 
decencv  of  this  conduct.  "Ah  sir,"  said  he,  "since 
fortune  has  given  you  the  part  of  Agamemnon,  are 
von  net  ashamed  to  act  that  of  Thersiles?"  These 
words  spoken  with  so  generous  a  liberty,  opened  his 
eyes  and  brought  him  to  himself.  And,  so  far  from 
being  displeased  with  Demades,  he  esteemed  him  the 
more  lor  them,  treated  him  with  the  utmost  respect 
und  friendship,  and  conferred  all  possible  honours  up- 
on him. 

Frim  this  moment  Philip  seemed  quite  changed 
both  in  his  disposition  and  behaviour-,  as  if. 
historian,2  the  conversation  of  Demadts,  ha:l  solten- 
ed  his  temper,  and  introduced  him  to  a  familiar  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Attic  graces.  HP  dismissed  nil 
the  Athenian  captives  without  any  ransom,  and  gave 
the  greatest  part  of  them  clothes;  with  the  view  of 
acquiring,  by  this  favourable  treatment,  the  good  will 
of  so  powerful  a  commonwealth  as  Athens.  In  which, 
si\-  1'  .  ilybius,'  he  gained  a  second  triumph,  more 
glorious  "for  himself,  and  even  more  advantageous, 
than  the  first:  for  in  the  battle,  his  courage  had  pre- 
vailed over  none  but  tho«e  who  were  present  in  it; 
but  OR  this  occasion,  his  kindness  and  clemency  ac- 
quired him  a  whole  city,  and  subjected  every  heart 
to  him.  He  renewed  w'ith  the  Athenians  the  ancient 
treatj  of  friendship  and  alliance,  and  granted  the 
Hn'otUns  a  peace,  after  having  left  a  strong  garrison 
ill  Thebes. 

We  are  told  that  Isocrntes.*  the  most  celebrated 
rhetorician  of  that  age,  who  loved  his  country  with 
the  utmost  te:iderne«s,  cotil.l  not  survive  the  logs  and 
Ignominy  with  which  it  wns  covered,  by  the  event 
of  the  battle  of  Chwronea.  The  instant  "he  received 
the  new?  of  it,  being  uncertain  what  use  Philip  would 
make  of  his  victory,  and  determined  to  die  a  free- 
man  he  hastened  his  end  by  abstaining  from  food. 
He  was  fourscore  and  eighteen  years  of  "ge. 


•  Plut.  in  vit.  dcrem  Orat.  p  £45. 


. 

DioJ.  »  I'.'iyb.  I.  v.  p  359. 

VoL.  I—  60 


«  1'lu'   •»  Itocr.  p.  P37. 


Demosthenes  seemed  to  have  been  the  principa 
cause  of  the  terrible  shock  which  Athens  reciived  at 
this  time,  and  which  gave  its  power  such  a  wound  a« 
it  ntver  recovered.  But  at  the  very  in-iant  that  the 
Athenians  heard  of  this  bloody  overthrow,5  which  af- 
fected so  great  a  number  of  families,  when  it  would 
have  been  no  wonder,  and  the  multitude,  seized  with 
terror  and  alarms,  given  way  to  an  emotion  of  blind 
•»nger  against  the  man  whom  they  might  consider  in 
lome  measure  as  the  author  of  this  dreadful  calamity; 
iven  at  this  very  instant,  I  say,  the  people  submitted 
entirely  to  the  counsels  of  Demosthenes.  The  pre- 
cautions that  were  taken  to  post  guards,  to  raise  the 
walls,  and  to  repair  the  ditches,  were  all  in  conse- 
quence of  his  advice.  He  himself  was  appointed  to 
supply  the  city  with  provisions  and  to  repair  the 
walls,  which  latter  commission  he  executed  with  so 
much  generosity,  that  it  acquired  him  the  greatest 
honour;  and  for  which,  at  the  request  of  Ctesiphon, 
a  crown  of  gold  was  decreed  him,  a*  a  reward  for  hi* 
having  presented  the  commonwealth  with  a  sum  of 
money  out  of  his  own  estate,  sufficient  to  defray  what 
was  wanting  of  the  sums  for  repairing  the  wall*. 

On  the  present  occasion,  that  is,  alter  the  battle  of 
Ch.neronea,  the  orators  who  opposed  Demoathencs, 
havins:  all  risen  up  in  concert  ati*m»t  him,  and  having 
cited  him  to  take  his  trial  according  to  law,  the  peo- 
ple not  only  declared  him  innocent  of  the  several  ac- 
cusations laid  to  his  charge,  but  conferred  more  ho- 
nours upon  him  than  he  had  enjoyed  before;  so 
strongly  did  the  veneration  which  they  had  for  his 
zeal  and  fidelity  overbalance  the  efforts  of  calumny 
and  malice. 

The  Athenians  (a  fickle  wavering  people,  and  apt 
to  punish  their  own  errors  and  omissions  in  the  per- 
sons of  those  whose  projects  were  often  redered  abor- 
tive, for  no  other  reason  but  because  they  had  exe 
cuted  then)  too  slowly)  in  thus  crowning  Demosthe 
nes,  in  the  midst  of  a  public  calamity  which  he  alone 
seemed  to  have  brought  upon  them,  pay  the  most 
glorious  homage  to  his  abilities  and  integrity.  By 
this  wise  and  brave  conduct,  they  seem  in  some  mea- 
sure to  confess  their  own  error,  in  not  having  follow- 
ed his  counsel  neither  fully  or  early  enough:  and  •« 
•onfess  themselves  alone  guilty  of  all  the  evils  whi 


d  to 
ich 


had   befallen  them. 

But  the  people  did  not  stop  here.8  The  bones  of 
such  as  had  keen  killed  in  the  battle  of  Chaeronea, 
having  been  brought  to  Athens  to  he  interred,  they 
appointed  Demosthenes  to  pronounce  the  eulogiuiu 
of  those  brave  men;  a  manifest  proof  thnt  they  did 
not  ascribe  to  him  the  ill  success  of  the  battle,  but  to 
Divine  Providence  only,  who  disposes  of  humaa 
events  at  pleasure;  a  circumstance  which  was  ex- 
pres-lv  mentioned  in  the  inscription  engraved  on  the 
•  onument  of  those  illustrious  deceased  warriors. 

Thi*  earth  entomb*  those  victims  to  the  itato 
Who  Tell  a  glorious  sacrifice  to  zeal. 
Cri'cri\on  the  point  of  wearing  tyrant  chains. 
Dtil,  by  their  deaths  alone,  escape  ihe  voke. 
Thin  Jupiter  decreed  :  no  effort,  mortal*. 
Can  save  you  from  the  mighty  will  of  fate. 
To  god*  alone  belong  the  attribute 
Of  being  free  from  crime*,  with  never-ending  joy. 

Demosthenes  opposed  jEsrhines,7  who  wasperpetu 
ally  reproaching  him  with  having  occasioned  the  ]os« 
of  the  battle  in  question,  with  this  solid  answer: 
"Censure  me,"  says  he,  "for  the  counsels  1  gave, 
but  do  not  calumniate  me  for  the  ill  success  of  them. 
For  it  is  the  Supreme  Being  who  conducts  and  ter- 
minates all  things;  whereas  it  is  from  the  nature  of 
the  counsel  iutlf,  that  we  are  to  juilire  of  the  inten- 
tion of  him  who  offers  it.  If  therefore  the  event  has 
declared  in  favour  of  Philip,  impute  it  not  to  mr  as 
a  crime;  since  it  is  God,  and  nut  myself,  who  dis- 
posed of  the  victory.  But  if  you  can  prove  that  I  did 
not  exert  myself  with  probity,  vigilance,  nnd  an  ac- 
tivity indefatigable,  and  superior  to  my  strength:  if 
with  these  I  did  not  seek,  I  did  not  employ,  every 

•  Doinoslh.  proCten.  p.  514      Plui.  in  Demwih.  p.  855. 

•  Plut.   in  Di-mn-tli.  p.  J-i"i.     rVrm.*th.   prn  Oes.  p.  519 
520.  '  Demosth   pro  Cte*.  p.  505 


522 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


method  which  human  prudence  could  suggest;  and 
did  not  inspire  the  most  necessary  and  noble  resolu- 
tions, such  as  were  truly  worthy  of  Athenians;  show 
me  tills,  and  then  give  what  scope  you  please  to  your 
accusations." 

He  afterwards  uses  that  bold  and  sublime  figure,1 
which  is  looked  upon  as  the  most  beautiful  passage 
in  his  oration,  and  is  so  highly  applauded  by  Longi- 
nus.*  Demosthenes  endeavours  to  justify  his  own 
conduct,  and  prove  to  the  Athenians  that  they  did 
not  do  wrong  in  giving  Philip  battle.  He  is  not  sa- 
tisfied with  merely  citing  in  a  frigid  manner,  the  ex- 
ample of  the  great  man  who  had  fought  for  the  same 
cause  in  the  plains  of  Marathon,  at  Salamis,  and  be- 
fore Plataeae.  No,  he  makes  a  quite  different  use  of 
them,  says  this  rhetorician;  and,  or  a  sudden,  as  if 
inspired  by  some  god,  and  possessed  with  the  spirit 
of  Apollo  himself,  cries  out,  swearing  by  those  brave 
defenders  of  Greece:  "  .No,  Athenians,  you  have  not 
erred.  I  swear  by  those  illustrious  men  who  fought 
by  land  at  Marathon  and  Plala;ae;  by  sea  before  Sa- 
lamis and  Artemissium;  and  all  those  who  have  been 
honoured  by  the  commonwealth  with  the  solemn 
rites  of  burial;  and  not  those  only  who  have  been 
crowned  with  success.and  came  off  victorious."  Would 
not  one  conclude,  adds  Longinus,  that  by  changing 
the  natural  air  of  the  proof  into  this  grand  and  pa- 
thetic manner  of  affirming  by  oaths  of  so  extraordi- 
nary a  nature,  he  deifies,  in  some  measure,  those  an- 
cient citizens;  and  makes  all  who  die  in  the  same 
glorious  manner  so  many  gods,  by  whose  names  it  is 
proper  to  swear? 

I  have  already  observed  in  another  place,  how  na- 
turally apt  these  orations  (spoken  in  a  most  solemn 
manner,3  to  the  glory  of  those  who  lost  their  lives  in 
fighting  for  the  cause  of  liberty)  were  to  inspire  the 
Athenian  youth  with  an  ardent  zeal  for  their  country, 
and  a  warm  desire  to  signalize  themselves  in  battle. 
Another  ceremony  observed  with  regard  to  those 
children  whose  fathers  had  died  in  the  bed  of  ho- 
nour,* was  no  less  efficacious  to  inspire  them  with  the 
love  of  virtue,  (n  a  celebrated  festival,  in  which 
shows  were  exhibited  to  the  whole  people,  a  herald 
came  upon  the  stage,  and  producing  the  young  or- 
phans drest  in  complete  armour,  proclaimed  with  a 
loud  voice:  "  These  young  orphans  whom  an  untime- 
ly death  in  the  midst  of  dangers  has  deprived  of  their 
illustrious  fathers,  have  found  in  the  people  a  parent, 
who  has  taken  care  of  them  till  no  longer  in  a  state 
of  infancy.  And  now  they  send  them  back,  armed 
cap-a-pie  to  follow  under  the  most  happy  auspices, 
their  own  affairs;  and  invite  them  to  emulate  one 
another  in  deserving  the  chief  employments  of  the 
state."  By  such  methods  martial  bravery,  the  love 
of  one's  country,  and  the  taste  for  virtue  and  solid 
glory,  are  perpetuated  in  a  state. 

It  was  the  very  year  of  the  battle  of  Chajronea,  and 
two  years  before  the  death  of  Philip,  that  ./Eschines, 
jealous  of  the  glory  of  his  rival,  impugned  the  decree 
which  had  granted  him  a  crown  of  gold,  and  drew 
up  an  accusation  against  Ctesiphon,  or  rather  against 
Demosthenes.  But  the  cause  was  not  pleaded  till 
seven  or  eight  years  after,  about  the  fifth  or  sixth 
year  of  the  reign  of  Alexander.  I  shall  relate  the 
event  of  it  in  this  place,  to  avoid  breaking  in  upon 
the  history  of  the  life  and  actions  of  that  prince. 

No  cause  ever  excited  so  much  curiosity,  nor  was 


pleaded  with  so  much  pomp.  People  flocked  to  it 
from  all  parts  (says  Cicero:5)  and  they  had  great 
reason  for  so  doing;  for  what  sight  could  be  nobler, 


«  Demosth.  pro  Cles.  p.  508. 
»  Longin.  de  Rudlim.  c  xiv. 

•  Deinostliciicx,  in  liis  oration   against  Leptines,  p.  CPi2, 
fili-i-rvcs,   that  the    Athenian*  were  the  only   people   who 
r.auKcd  funeral  orations  to  be  spoken  in  honour  nf surd  per- 
gons,  an  hud  lost  their  lives  in  nYfnnce  of  their  country. 

«  .<fNcliiti.  contra  Cteniph.  p.  45'i. 

*  Art  quod  judir.ium  concuraim  dicitur  6  fotfi  GriRcia  fac- 
tUDesce.     Cluid  enim   aut  tarn  visendum.aut  tarn  audten- 
dutn  full,  quam  nummorum  oratorum,  in  grtivissima  causa, 
arruraia  el  inimicitiis  inc.cnsa  coutcnliu?     Cicer.  tit  opt.  gtn. 
Ornt.  n.  22. 


cellcnt  in  his  way;  both  formed  by  nature,  i 

by  art,  and  animated  by  perpetual  dissensions  and  r.n 

implacable  animosity  against  each  other? 

These  two  orations  have  always  been  considered 
as  the  master-pieces  of  antiquity,  especially  that  of 
Demosthenes.  Cicero  had  translated  the  \v!iole  of 
it,'  a  strong  proof  of  the  high  opinion  he  entertained 
of  it.  Unhappily  for  us,  the  preamble  only  to  that 
performance  is  now  extant,  which  is  sufficient  to  iaak«? 
us  very  much  regret  the  loss  of  the  rest. 

Amidst  the  numberless  beauties  which  are  conspi- 
cuous in  every  part  of  these  two  orations,  nit  thinks 
there  appears  (if  I  may  be  allowed  to  censure  the 
writings  of  such  great  men)  a  considerable  defect 
that  very  much  lessens  their  perfection,  and  "vhicb, 
appears  to  me  directly  repugnant  to  the  rules  of  solid 
and  just  eloquence;  and  that  is,  the  gross,  injurious 
terms  in  which  the  two  orators  reproach  one  another. 
The  same  objection  has  been  made  to  Cicero,  with 
regard  to  his  orations  against  Antony.  1  have  alrea- 
dy declared,  that  this  style,  this  assemblage  of  gross, 
opprobrious  expressions,  are  the  very  reverse  of  solid 
eloquence;  and  indeed,  every  speech,  which  is  die 
tated  by  passion  and  revenge,  never  failsof  being  sus- 
pected by  those  who  judge  of  it;  whereas  an  oration 
that  is  strong  and  invincible  from  its  reason  and  argu- 
ment, and  which  at  the  same  time  is  conducted  with 
reserve  and  moderation,  wins  the  heart,  whilst  it  in- 
forms the  understanding;  and  persuades  no  less  by 
the  esteem  it  inspires  for  the  orator,  than  by  the 
force  of  his  arguments. 

The  times  seemed  to  favour  jEschines  very  much; 
for  the  Macedonian  party,  whom  he  always  befriend- 
ed, was  very  powerful  in  Athens,  especially  after  the 
ruin  of  Thebes.  Nevertheless,  jEschines  lost  his 
cause,  and  was  justly  sentenced  to  banishment  for  his 
rash  accusation.  He  thereupon  went  and  settled  him- 
self in  Rhodes,  where  he  opened  a  school  of  eloquence, 
the  fame  and  glory  of  which  continued  for  many 
ages.  He  began  his  lectures  with  the  two  orations 
that  had  occasioned  his  banishment.  Great  encomi- 
umsjwere  given  to  that  of  jEschines:  but  when  they 
heard  that  of  Demosthenes,  the  plaudits  and  acclama- 
tions were  redoubled.  And  it  was  then  that  he  spoke 
these  words,  so  highly  worthy  of  praise  in  the  mouth 
of  an  enemy  and  a  rival:  "  Hut  what  applauses  would 
you  not  have  bestowed,  had  you  heard  Demosthenes 
speak  it  himself." 

To  conclude,  the  victor  made  a  good  use  of  his 
conquest.  For  at  the  time  that  ^schines  was  lea- 
ving Athens,  in  order  to  embark  for  Rhodes,  Demos- 
thenes ran  after  him,  and  forced  him  to  accept  of  a 
purse  of  money;  an  offer  which  must  have  obliged 
him  so  much  the  more,  as  he  had  less  room  to  expect 
it.  On  this  occasion  jEschincs  cried  out:  "  How  will 
it  be  possible  for  me  not  to  regret  a  country,7  in 
which  I  leave  an  enemy  more  generous,  than  I  can 
hope  to  find  friends  in  any  other  part  of  the  world!" 

SUCTION  VII.— PHILIP,  IN  THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  THE 
AMPHICTYONS    IS    DECLARED    GENERAL    (IF    THE 
GREEKS  AGAINST  THE  PERSIANS,  AND    PREPARE! 
FOR  THAT   IMPORTANT  EXPEDITION.      DOMESTIC 
TROUBLES    IN    HIS    HOTT8EHOLD.       HE    DIVORCES 
OLYMPIAS,   AND   MARRIES   ANOTHER    WIFE.       HK 
SOLEMNIZES   THE   MARRIAGE  OF  CLEOPATRA   III 
DAUGHTER   WITH   ALEXANDER  KING  OF  EPIRU3 
AND  IS  KILLED  AT  THE  NUPTIALS. 
THE  battle  of   Chaeronea  may  be 
said  to  have  enslaved   Greece.     Ma-        A.  M.  f-667 
cedon  at  that  time,  with  no  more  than  Ant.  J.  C.  337 
30,000  soldiers,  gained  a  point  which 
Persia,  with  millions  of  mm,  had  attempted  unsuc- 
cessfully at    Platasae,  at    Salamis,  and  at    Marathon 
Philip,  in   the  first  years  of  his  reign,  had    repulsed 
divided,  and  disarmed   his  enemies.     In  the  succeed- 
ing ones,  he   had   subjected,  by  artifice  or   force,  the 
most  powerful   states  of  Greece,  and   had  made  him- 
self its  arbiter;  but   now  he  prepares  to  revenge  th» 

•  De  opt.  pen.  Oral. 

*  Some    a  u i  dors   ascribe   these  -vords   to  Domosthene" 
when,  three  years  afler,  he  mi't  wit.*'  the  same  fate  as  JB« 
chines,  and  was  also  banished  frcm  Athens. 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


523 


injuries  whirl)  Greece  had  received  from  the  Barba- 
rian-, and  meditates  no  less  a  design  than  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  empire.  The  greatest  advantage  he 
gained  by  his  last  victory,1  (and  this  was  the  object 
he  long  had  in  view,  and  never  lost  sight  of)  was  to 
get  himself  appointed,  in  the  assembly  of  the  Greeks, 
their  generalissimo  against  the  Persians.  In  this 
quality  he  made  preparations,  in  order  to  invade  that 
mighty  empire.  He  nominated,  as  leaders  of  part  of 
bis  forces,  Attains  and  Pamienio,  two  of  his  captains, 
on  whose  valour  and  wisdom  he  chiefly  relied,  and 
niadc  them  set  out  for  Asia  Minor. 

But  whilst  every  thing  abroad  was  glorious  and 
happy  for  Philip,2  he  found  the  utmost  uneasiness  at 
home:  division  and  trouble  reigning  in  every  part  of 
his  family.  The  ill  temper  of  Olympias,  who  was 
naturally  jealous,  choleric,  and  vindictive,  raised  dis- 
sensions perpetually  in  it,  which  made  Philip  almost 
out  of  love  with  life:  not  to  mention  that,  as  he  him- 
self was  not  a  faithful  husband,  it  is  said  that  he  expe- 
rienced, on  his  wife's  part,  the  infidelity  he  had  so 
justly  deserved.  But  whether  he  had  a  just  subject 
of  complaint,  or  whether  it  was  from  fickleness  and 
inconstancy,  it  is  certain  he  proceeded  so  far  as  to 
divorce  her.  Alexander,  who  had  been  disgusted 
upon  several  other  accounts,  was  highly  offended  at 
this  treatment  of  his  mother. 

Philip,  after  divorcing  Olympias,  married  Cleopa- 
tra, niece  to  Attalus,  a  very  young  lady,  whose  beau- 
ty, however,  was  so  exquisite  that  he  could  not  resist 
its  charms.  In  the  midst  of  their  rejoicings  upon  oc- 
casion of  the  nuptials,  and  in  the  heat  of  wine,-Atta- 
lus,  who  was  uncle  to  the  new  queen  by  the  mother's 
side,  took  it  into  his  head  to  say  that  the  Macedoni- 
ans ought  to  beseech  the  gods  to  give  them  a  lawful 
successor  for  their  king.  Upon  this  Alexander,  who 
was  naturally  choleric,  exasperated  at  such  an  insult, 
cried  out,  "  Wretch,  dost  thou  then  take  me  for  a 
Dastard?"  and  at  the  same  time  flung  the  cup  at  his 
bead.  Attalus  returned  the  compliment;  upon 
which  the  quarrel  grew  warmer.  Philip,  who  sat  at 
another  table,  was  very  much  offended  to  see  the 
feast  interrupted  in  this  manner;  and  not  recollecting 
that  he  WHS  lame,  drew  his  sword,  and  ran  directly  at 
bis  son.  Happily  the  father  fell,  so  that  the  guests 
had  an  opportunity  of  stepping  in  between  them. 
The  greatest  difficulty  was.  to  keep  Alexander  from 
rushing  upon  his  ruin.  Exasperated  at  a  succes- 
sion of  such  heinous  affronts,  in  spite  of  all  the  guests 
could  say,  concerning  the  duty  he  owed  Philip  as  his 
father  and  his  sovereign,  he  vented  his  resentments 
in  this  bitter  sneer:  "  The  Macedonians  indeed,  have 
a  captain  there,  vastly  able  to  cross  from  F.urope  into 
Asia;  he  who  cannot  step  from  one  table  to  another, 
without  running  the  hazard  of  breaking  his  nerk!" 
After  these  words,  he  left  the  hall;  and  taking  Olym- 
pias, his  mother,  along  with  him,  who  had  been  so 
highly  affronted,  he  conducted  her  to  Epirus,  and 
himself  went  over  to  the  Ilyirians. 

In  the  mean  time,  Demaratus  of  Corinth,  who  was 
connected  with  Philip  by  the  ties  of  friendship  and 
h\>spit;ilitv,  and  was  very  free  and  familiar  with  him, 
arrived  at  his  court.  After  the  first  civilities  and  ca- 
resses were  over,  Philip  asked  him  whether  the  Greeks 
were  at  peace  among  themselves?  "  It  indeed  be- 
comes you.  Sir,"  replied  Demaralus,  "  to  be  concern- 
ed about  Greece,  who  have  filled  your  own  house 
with  feuds  and  dissensions."  The  prince,  sensibly 
affected  with  this  reproach,  came  to  himself,  acknow- 
ledged his  error,  and  sent  Demaratus  to  Alexander 
to  persuade  him  to  return  home. 

Philip    did    not    lose  sight  of  the 

A.  M.  3668.  conquest  of  Asia.  Full  of  the  mighty 
Ant.  J.  C.  336.  project  which  he  was  revolving  in  his 
mind,  he  consults  the  gods  to  know 
what  would  be  the  event  of  it.  The  priestess  replied. 
"The  victim  is  already  crowned,  hi*  end  draws  nigh, 
and  he  will  soon  be  sacrificed."  Philip  hearing  this, 
did  not  hesitate  a  moment,  but  interpreted  an  oracle  in 
his  own  favour,  the  ambiguity  of  which  ought  at  least 
to  have  kept  him  in  some  suspense.  In  order,  there- 
fore, that  he  might  be  in  a  condition  to  apply  himself 


•  Diod.  I.  xvi.  p. 479. 


•  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  669. 


entirely  to  his  expedition  against  the  Persians,  and 
devote  himself  solely  to  the  conquest  of  Asia,  ha 
despatches  with  all  possible  diligence  hi*  domestic  af- 
fairs. After  this,  he  offers  up  a  solemn  sacrifice  to 
the  gods;  and  prepares  to  celebrate,  with  incredible 
magnificence,  in  ./Egae,  a  city  of  Macedonia,  the  nup- 
tials of  Cleopatra,  his  daughter,  whom  he  gave  in 
marriage  to  Alexander  king  of  Epirus,  and  brother 
to  Olympias  his  queen.  He  had  invited  to  it  the 
most  considerable  persons  of  Greece;  and  heaped 
upon  them  every  mark  of  friendship  and  honour,  to 
testify  his  gratitude  for  their  having  elected  him 
generalissimo  of  the  Greeks.  The  cities  mau'e  theii 
court  to  him  in  emulation  of  each  other,  by  sending 
him  golden  crowns;  and  Athens  distinguished  her- 
self above  all  the  rest  by  her  zeal.  IXeoptolemus  the 
poet  had  written,  purposely  for  that  festival,  a  trage- 
Jy,  entitled  Cinyras,8  in  which,  under  borrowed 
names,  he  represented  this  prince  as  already  victor 
over  Darius,  and  master  of  Asia.  Philip  listened  to 
these  happy  presage*  with  joy;  and,  comparing  them 
with  the  answer  ol  the  oracle,  assured  himself  of  con- 
quest. The  day  after  the  nuptials,  games  and  shows 
were  solemnized.  As  these  formed  part  of  the  reli- 
gious worship,  there  were  carried  in  it,  with  great 
pomp  and  ceremony,  twelve  statues  of  the  gods, 
carved  with  inimitable  art.  A  thirteenth,  that  sur 
passed  them  all  in  magnificence,  was  that  of  Philip, 
which  represented  him  as  a  god.  The  hour  for  his 
leaving  the  palace  being  arrived,  he  went  forth  in  a 
white  robe;  and  advanced  with  a  majestic  air  in  the 
midst  of  acclamations,  towards  the  theatre,  where  an 
infinite  multitude  of  Macedonians,  as  well  as  foreign- 
ers, waited  his  coming  with  impatience.  His  guards 
marched  before  and  behind  him,  leaving,  by  his  or- 
der, a  considerable  space  between  themselves  and 
him,  to  give  the  spectators  a  better  opportunity  of 
surveying  him;  and  also  to  show  that  he  considered 
the  affection  which  the  Grecians  bore  him  as  his  safest 
guard. 

But  all  the  festivity  and  pomp  of  these  nuptials 
ended  in  the  murder  of  Philip;  and  it  was  his  refusal 
to  do  an  act  of  justice  that  occasioned  his  death. 
Some  time  before,  Attalus,  inflamed  with  wine  at  an 
entertainment,  had  insulted,  in  the  most  shocking 
manner,  Pausnnias,  a  young  Macedonian  nobleman. 
The  latter  had  long  endeavoured  to  revenge  the  cruel 
affront,  and  was  perpetually  imploring  the  king  to  in- 
terpose his  power.  But  Philip,  unwilling  to  disgust 
Attalus,  uncle  to  Cleopatra,  whom,  as  was  before  ob- 
served, he  had  married  after  having  divorced  Olym- 
pias his  first  queen,  would  never  listen  to  Pauaamas's 
complaints.  However,  to  console  him  in  some  mea- 
sure, and  express  the  high  esteem  and  the  great  con- 
fidence he  reposed  in  him,  he  made  him  one  of  the 
chief  officers  of  his  life-guard.  But  this  was  not  what 
the  young  Macedonian  required,  whose  anger  now 
swefling  to  fury  directs  itself  against  his  judge,  and 
he  forms  the  design  of  wiping  out  his  shame  by  im- 
bruing his  handsel)  a  most  horrid  murder. 

When  once  a  man  is  determined  to  die,  he  is  vast- 
ly strong  and  formidable.  Pausanias,  the  better  to 
put  his  bloody  design  in  execution,  chose  the  instant 
of  that  pompous  ceremony;  when  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  multitude  were  fixed  on  the  prince;  doubtless 
to  make  his  vengeance  more  conspicuous,  and  pro- 
portion it  to  the  gieatness  of  the  injury  which  he 
had  received,  and  for  which  he  conceived  he  had  a 
right  to  make  the  king  responsible,  as  he  had  long  so- 
licited that  prince  in  vain  for  the  satisfaction  due  to 
him.  Seeing  him  therefore  alone,  in  the  space  which 
his  guards  left  round  him,  he  advances  forwards, 
stubs  him  with  a  dagger,  and  lays  him  dead  at  his  feet. 

Diodorus  observes,  that  he  wa«  assassinated  the 
very  instant  his  statue  entered  the  theatre.  The  as- 
sas-in  had  prepared  horses  ready  for  his  » scope,  f,i,d 
would  have  got  off,  had  not  an  accident  happened 
which  stopped  him.  and  gave  the  pursuc-r*  time  to 


524 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


overtake  him.  Pausamas  was  immediately  cut  to  pie- 
ces upon  tiie  spot.  Thus  died  Philip,' 

A.  M.  3668.  at  forty-seven  }ears  of  age,  alter 
Ant.  J.C.  336.  having  reigned  twenty-four.  Arta- 
xerxes  Ochus,  king  of  Persia,  died 
also  the  same  year. 

Demosthenes  had  private  notice  sent  hint  of 
Philip's  death;  and  in  order  to  prepare  the  Athe- 
nians to  resume  their  courage,  he  went  to  the  council 
with  an  air  ol joy,  and  said,  that  the  night  before  he 
had  had  a  dream,  winch  promised  some  great  felicity 
to  the  Athenians.  A  little  after,  couriers  arrived 
with  the  news  of  Philip's  death,  on  which  occasion 
the  people,  abandoned  themselves  to  the  transports 
of  immoderate  joy,  which  far  exceeded  all  bounds  of 
decency.  Demosthenes  particularly  had  inspired  them 
with  these  sentiments;  lor  he  himself  appeared  in 
public  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  flowers,  and  dressed 
with  the  utmost  niagni licence,  though  his  daughter 
had  been  dead  but  seven  da^s.  He  also  engaged  the 
Athenians  to  offer  sacrifices,  to  thank  the  gods  for 
the  good  news;  and,  by  a  decree,  ordained  a  crown 
to  Pausanias,  who  had  committed  the  murder. 

On  this  occasion  we  do  not  recognize  either  De- 
mosthenes or  the  Athenians;  and  we  can  scarce  con- 
ceive how  it  came  to  pass  that,  in  so  detestable  a 
Clime  as  the  murder  of  a  king,  policy,  at  least,  did 
not  induce  them  to  dissemble  such  sentiments  as 
reflected  dishonour  on  them,  without  being  at  all  to 
their  advantage;  and  which  showed  that  honour  and 
probity  were  utterly  extinct  in  their  minds. 

SECTION  VIII. — MEMORABLE  ACTIONS  AND  SAY- 
INGS OF  PHILIP.  GOOD  AND  BAD  QUALITIES  OF 
THAT  PRINCE. 

THERE  are,  in  the  lives  of  great  men,  certain  facts 
and  expressions,  which  often  give  us  a  better  idea  of 
their  character  than  their  most  shining  actions;  be- 
cause in  the  latter  they  generally  study  their  conduct, 
act  a  borrowed  part,  and  propose  themselves  to  the 
view  of  the  world;  whereas  in  the  former,  as  they 
speak  and  act  from  nature,  they  exhibit  themselves 
such  as  they  really  are,  without  art  and  disguise. 
M.  de  Tourreil  has  collected  with  sufficient  industry 
most  of  the  memorable  actions  and  sayings  of  Philip, 
and  he  has  been  particularly  careful  to  draw  the 
character  of  this  prince.  The  reader  is  not  to  expect 
much  order  and  connection  in  the  recital  of  these 
detached  actions  and  sayings. 

Though  Philip  loved  flattery  so  far  as  to  reward 
the  adulation  of  Thrasideus  with  the  title  of  king  in 
Thessalv,  he,  however,  at  some  intervals  loved  truth. 
He  permitted  Aristotle*  to  give  him  precepts  on  the 
art  of  reigning.  He  declared,  that  he  was  obliged  to 
the  Athenian  orators  for  having  corrected  him  of  his 
errors,  by  frequently  reproaching  him  with  them. 
He  kept  a  man  in  his  service  to  tell  him  every  dav, 
before  he  gaie  audience,  "Philip,  remember  thou 
art  mortal." 

He3  discoverd  great  moderation,*  even  when  he 
was  spoken  to  in  offensive  and  injurious  terms;  and 
a  No,  which  is  no  less  worthy  of  admiration,  when 
truth  was  told  him;  a  great  quality,  says  Seneca,  in 
kings  ;iin!  highly  conducive  to  the  happiness  of  their 
reign.  At  the  close  of  HII  audience  which  he  gave  to 
Kniie  Athenian  ainlms-adors,  who  were  come  to  com- 
plain of  some  act  of  hostility,  he,  asked,  whether  he 
Could  do  them  any  service?  "The  greatest  service 
then  coul.lst  do  us,"  said  Demochares,  ''would  be  to 
hang  liiy-ilf."  Philip,  without  the  least  emoli.ni, 
though  lie  perceived  all  the  persons  present  were 
highly  offended  at  these  words,  made  the  following 
Ji'i-wer-  "(Jo,  tell  your  superior*,  that  those  who 
tlure  to  make  u«e  of  such  insolent  language  are  more 
haughty,  and  It  ss  peaceably  inclined,  than  they  who 
can  forgive  them." 

Bein;:  present,*  in  an  indecent  posture,  at  the  sale 

t  ^E*clii;i    nmtrii  Ot«st|>li.  p.  440. 

•  Arisi.  EpUt.     l'lutari:li..in  A|>o|>li.  p.  177.     yEIiun.  lib. 
\iii.i-    15 

«  S'livc  ,\t-  \rn,  '    iii  c  23 

*  Si  i|ii:i'   aim  in    l'hili|>|Mi  virius,   fun  ct  rontumeliarum 
(>.-.iii'inii.,  irj.'i-ii!i  inalrumontum  ad  tutclum  regui. 


of  some  captives,  one  of  them,  going  up  to  him 
whispered  in  his  ear,  "Let  down  the  lappet  of  youl 
robe;"  upon  which  Philip  replied,  "Set  the  man  al 
liberty;  I  did  not  know  till  now  that  he  was  one  of 
my  friends.*' 

The  whole  court  soliciting  him  to  punish  tho 
ingratitude  of  the  Peloponnesians.6  who  had  hi-seil 
him  publicly  in  the  Olympic  games:  "What  won't 
they  attempt,"  replied  Philip,  "  should  I  do  tiicm  any 
injury,  since  they  laugh  at  me,  after  having  received 
so  many  favours  at  my  hand  .'" 

His  courtiers  advising  him  to  drive  from  him  a 
certain  person  who  spoke  ill  of  him:  7  "  Yes,  indeed 
said  he,  "and  so  he'll  go  and  speak  injuriously  of  me 
every  where."  Another  time,  when  they  advised 
him  to  dismiss  a  man  of  probit)  ,  who  had  reproached 
him:  "  L.et  us  first  lake  care,"  says  he,  "  thtit  we 
have  not  given  him  reason  to  do  so."  Hearing  after- 
wards that  the  person  in  question  was  but  in  poor 
circumstances,  and  in  no  favour  with  tlie,  courtiers, 
he  was  very  bountiful  to  him:  on  which  occasion  his 
reproaches  were  (hanged  into  applauses,  which  occa- 
sioned another  line  saying  of  this  prince's:  "  It  is  in 
the  power  of  kings  to  make  themselves  beloved 
or  hated." 

Being  urged  to  assist,8  with  the  influence  and 
authority  he  had  with  the  judges,  a  person  whose 
reputation  would  be  quite  lost,  by  the  sentence  \\hich 
was  going  to  l)e  pronounced  against  him;  "1  had 
rather,"  says  he,  "he  should  lose  his  reputation, 
than  I  mine.'' 

Philip9  rising  from  an  entertainment  at  which  he 
had  sillen  several  hours,  was  addressed  by  a  woman, 
who  begged  him  to  examine  her  cause,  and  to  hear 
several  reasons  she  had  toalKdge,  which  were  not 
pleasing  to  him.  He.  accordingly  heard  it,  mid  gave 
sentence  against  her;  upon  which  she  replied  very 
calmlv,  "I  appeal."  "How!"  says  Philip,  "from 
your  king?  To  whom  then?"  "To  Philip  when 
fasting,"  replied  the  woman.  The  manner  in  which 
he  received  this  answer  would  do  honour  to  the  most 
sober  prince.  He  gave  the  cause  a  second  hearing; 
acknowledged  the  injustice  of  his  sentence,  and  con- 
demned himself  to  make  amends  for  it. 

A  poor  woman  used  to  appear  often  before  him," 
to  sue  for  audience,  and  to  beseech  him  to  put  an 
end  to  her  law-suit;  but  Philip  always  told  her  he 
hail  no  time  Exasperated  at  these  refusals,  whi''n 
had  been  so  often  repeated,  she  replied  one  di.y  with 
emotion:  "  If  you  have  not  time  to  do  me  justice,  be 
no  longer  king."  Philip  was  strongly  affected  with 
this  rebuke,  which  a  just  indignation  had  extorted 
from  this  poor  woman;  and  far  from  being  ollended 
at  it,  he.  satisfied  her  that  instant,  and  afterwards 
became  more  punctual  in  giving  audience.  He  was 
sensible,  that  in  fact  a  king  and  a  judge  are  the  same 
thing;  that  the  throne  is  a  tribunal;  that  the  sove- 
reign authority  is  a  supreme  power,  and  at  the  same 
time  an  indi-pcnsahle  obligation  to  do  ju-ti(le :  that  to 
distribute  it  to  his  subjects,  and  to  grant  them  the 
time  nece-sary  for  that  purpose,  was  not  a  favour,  but 
a  duty  and  a  debt;  that  he  ought  to  appoint  persons 
to  assist  him  in  this  function,  but  not  to  disburden 
himself  absolutely  from  it;  and  that  he  was  no  less 
obliged  to  be  H  judge  than  a  king.  All  these  circum- 
stances are  included  in  this  natural,  unaffected,  and 
very  sensible  cxpres-ion,  "  Be  no  longer  kins; ;''  "  and 
Philip  comprehended  »ll  its  force. 

He  understood  raillery,12  was  very  fond  of  smart 
savings,  and  very  happy  at  them  himself.  Having 
received  a  wound  near  the  throat,  and  his  surgeon 
importuning  him  dully  with  some  new  request 
"Take  what  thou  wilt,"  says  he,  "for  thou  hast  me 
by  the  throat." 

"  It  is  also  related,"  that  after  hearing  two  villain* 
who  accused  each  other  of  various  crimes,  he  banish 
ed  the  one  and  sentenced  the  other  to  follow  him. 

Menernitrs.  l4  the  physician  who  was  so  mad  as  to 
fancy  himself  Jupiter,  wrote  to  Philip  in  these  terms. 
"  Menecrntes  Jupiter,  to  Philip  greeting."  Philip 


•     Pint.  '    I'lllt.     'I    \|K)|>lltll.  •    I'lut 

»  Ibid.  10  Plut  ««  K*J  pi  ,2*T,'A...,i 

«»  Plut  '*  Id  •«  Julian,  lib.  xii.  cap.  .11 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


•nswei«d,  "Philip  o  Menecrates,  health  and  reo- 
ton."  >  But  this  king  did  not  stop  here;  for  he  hit 
upon  a  pleasant  remedy  for  his  visionary  corre- 
spondent. Philip  invited  hiiu  to  a  grand  eiitertain- 
uient.  .Menecrates  had  a  separate  table,  wlure 
nothing  WHS  served  up  to  him  but  iucense  and  per- 
fume, whilst  nil  the  other  guests  fed  upon  the  must 
exquisite  dainties.  The  first  transports  of  joy  with 
which  he  was  seited,  when  he  found  his  divinity 
acknowledged,  made  him  forget  that  he  was  a  man; 
but  hunger  afterwards  forcing  him  to  recollect  his 
being  so,  he  was  quite  tired  with  the  character  of 
Jupiter,  and  took  leave  of  the  company  abruptly. 

Philip  made  an  answer  which  redounded  highly  to 
the  honour  of  his  prime  minister.2  That  prince 
being  one  diy  reproached  with  devoting  too  many 
nours  to  sleep;  "I  indeed  sleep,"  sa  \  s  he,  "but 
Antipater  wakes." 

Parmenio,3  hearing  the  ambassadors  of  all  Greece 
murmuring  one  day  because  Philip  lay  too  long  in 
bed,  and  did  not  give  them  audience:  "Do  not 
wonder,"  says  he,  "if  he  sleeps  whilst  you  wake;  for 
he  waked  whilst  you  slept."  By  this  he  wittily 
reproached  them  for  their  supineness  in  neglecting 
their  interest  whilst  Philip  was  very  vigilant  in 
regard  to  his.  This  Demosthenes  was  perpetually 
observing  to  them  with  his  usual  freedom. 

Every  one  of  the  ten  tribes  of  Athens  used  to  elect 
t  new  general  every  year.*  These  did  their  duty  by 
turns,  and  every  general  for  the  day  commanded  as 
generalissimo.  But  Philip  joked  upon  this  multi- 
plicity of  chiefs,  and  said,  "  In  my  whole  life  I  could 
lev*  r  find  but  one  general  (Parmenio,)  whereas  the 
Athenian?  cmi  find  ten  every  year  at  the  very  instant 
lhe>  want  them." 

The  letter  which  Philip  wrote  to  Aristotle  on  the 
birth  of  his  son,  proves  the  regard  that  prince  paid 
to  learned  men;  and  at  the  same  time,  the  taste  he 
himstlf  had  for  the  polite  arts  and  sciences.  The 
other  letters  of  his,  which  are  still  extant,  do  him  no 
less  honour.  But  his  great  talent  was  that  of  war 
and  policy,  in  which  he  was  equalled  by  few;  and  it 
is  time  to  consider  him  under  this  double  character. 
I  beg  the  reader  to  remember,  that  M.  de  Tourreil 
is  the  author  of  most  of  the  subsequent  particulars, 
and  that  it  is  he  who  is  going  to  give  the  picture  of 
king  Philip. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  determine  whether  this 
prince  were  greater  as  a  warrior  or  a  statesman. 
Surrounded  from  the  very  beginning  of  his  reign, 
both  at  home  and  abroad,  with  powerful  and  formi- 
dable enemies,  he  employed  sometimes  artifice,  and 
torn*  times  force,  to  defeat  them.  He  uses  his  en- 
deavours with  success  to  divide  his  opponents.  To 
strike  the  surer,  he  eludes  and  wards  otf  the  blows 
which  were  aimed  at  himself;  equally  prudent  in 
good  and  ill  fortune,  he  does  not  abuse  victory; 
equiilly  ready  to  pursue  or  wait  for  it,  he  either 
hastens  his  |»ce  or  slackens  it,  as  necessity  requires; 
he  leaves  nothing  to  the  caprice  of  chance,  but  what 
cannot  be  directed  by  wisdom:  in  fine,  he  is  ever 
inmioveable,  ever  fixed  within  the  just  bounds  which 
divide  boldness  from  temerity. 

In  Philip  we  perceive  a  king  nearly  as  much  master 
of  his  allies  as  of  his  own  subjects,  and  no  less  formi- 
dable in  treaties  than  in  battles;  a  vigilant  and  active 
monarch,  who  is  his  own  superintendent,  his  own 
prime  minister  and  generalissimo.  We  see  him  fired 
with  an  insatiable  thirst  of  glory,  searching  for  it 
where  it  i*  sold  at  the  highest  price;  making  fatigue 
and  danger  hi*  dearest  delights;  forming  incessantly 
that  just,  that  speedy  harmony  of  reflection  and 
action  which  military  expeditions  require;  and  with 
all  these  advantages  turning  the  fury  of  his  arms 
against  commonwealths,  exna  isted  by  long  wars, 
torn  by  intestine  divisions,  sold  by  their  own,  citi- 
zens served  by  a  body  of  mercenary  or  undisciplined 
troops;  obstinately  deaf  to  good  advice,  and  seem- 
ingly determined  "on  their  ruin. 

He  unites  in  himself  two  qualities  which  are  cora- 

>  Th<-  Greek  word  •Jj-'»1'""  «i?nifi'.is  bulb  th«M  tbingi. 

•  Plutarch.  •  Id. 

•  Plutarch  ii  Apoph.  p.  177. 


monly  found  incompatible,  n'r.  a  steadiness  and 
calmness  of  soul  that  rendered  him  attentive  to  take 
advantage  of  every  juncture,  and  to  seize  the  favou- 
able  moment  without  being  disconcerted  by  disap 
poiiitmtnts;  this  calmness,  1  say,  was  united  with  an 
activity,  ardour,  and  vivacity,  which  were  regardless 
of  intervals  for  rest,  of  the  difference  of  seasons,  or 
the  greatest  of  dangers.  IS'o  warrior  was  ever  bolder, 
or  more  intrepid  in  fight.  Demosthenes,  who  cannot 
be  suspected  of  flatteiing  him,  gives  a  glorious  testi- 
mony of  him  on  this  head:  for  which  reason  1  will 
cite  his  own  words.  "1  saw,"5  says  this  orator, 
"this  very  Philip,  with  whom  we  disputed  fur 
sovereignty  and  empire;  I  saw  him,  though  cove-ed 
with  wounds,  his  eye  struck  out,  his  collar-bone 
broken,  maimed  both  in  his  hands  and  feet,  still  reso- 
lute ly  rush  into  the  midst  of  dangers,  and  ready  to 
deliver  up  to  fortune  any  other  part  of  his  body  she 
might  desire,  provided  he  might  live  honourably  and 
gloriously  with  the  rest  of  it." 

Philip  was  not  only  brave  himself,  but  inspired  hi* 
whole  army  with  the  same  valour.  Instructed  by 
able  masters  in  the  science  of  war,  as  the  reader  has 
seen,  he  had  brought  his  troops  to  the  most  exact, 
regular  discipline;  and  trained  up  nun  capable  of 
seconding  him  in  his  great  enterprises.  He  well 
knew  how,  without  lessening  his  own  authority,  to 
familiarize  himself  With  his  soldiers;  and  commanded 
rather  as  a  father  of  a  family,  than  as  the  general  of 
an  army,  whenever  it  was  <  onsistent  with  discipline. 
And  indeed  from  tlii*  allMjilitv,  which  merited  to 
much  the  greater  submission  and  respect,  as  he 
required  less,  and  seemed  to  dispense  with  it,  his 
soldiers  were  always  ready  to  follow  him  to  the 
greatest  dangers,  and  paid  him  the  most  implicit 
obedience. 

Xo  general  ever  made  a  greater  use  of  military 
stratagems  than  Philip.  The  dangers  to  which  he 
had  been  exposed  in  his  youth,  had  taught  him  the 
necessity  of  precautions,  and  the  art  of  resources.  A 
wise  diffidence,  which  is  of  service,  as  it  shows  dan- 
ger in  its  true  light,  made  him  not  fearful  and  irre- 
solute, but  cautious  and  prudent.  What  reason  soe- 
ver he  might  have  to  Ratter  himself  with  the  hope  of 
success,  he  never  depended  upon  it;  and  thought 
himself  superior  to  the  enemy  only  in  vigilance. 
Ever  accurate  in  his  projects,  and  inexhaustible  in 
exjiedients:  his  views  were  unbounded;  his  genius 
was  wonderful,  in  fixing  upon  proper  junctures  for 
the  executing  of  his  designs:  and  his  dexterity  in  not 
suffering  his  designs  to  be  discovered  no  less  admi- 
rable. Impenetrable  as  to  his  secrets,  even  to  his 
best  friends,  he  was  capable  of  attempting  or  conceal- 
ing any  thing.  The  reader  may  have  observed,  that 
he  strenuously  endeavoured  to  lull  the  Athenians 
asleep,  by  a  specious  outside  of  peace;  and  to  lay  si- 
lently the  foundations  of  his  grandeur,  in  their  ere 
dulous  security  and  blind  indolence. 

But  these  exalted  qualities  were  not  without  im 
perfections.  Not  to  mention  his  excess  in  eating  ana 
carousing,  to  which  he  abandoned  himstlf'  with  the 
utmost  intemperance;  he  also  has  bet-n  reproached 
with  the  most  dissolute  and  abandoned  manners.  We 
may  form  a  judgment  of  this  from  those  who  were 
most  intimate  with  him,  and  the  company  which  usu- 
ally frequented  his  palace.  A  set  of  profligate  de- 
bauchees, buffoons,  pantomimes,  and  wretche-  wo:** 
than  these,  flatterers  I  mean,  whom  avarice  and  am 
biliun  draw  in  crowds  round  the  great  and  powerful; 
such  were  the  people  who  had  the  greatest  share  in 
his  confidence  and  bounty.  Demosthenes  is  n;\  the 
only  person  who  reproaches  Philip  with  the-> 
for  thi*  might  be  suspected  in  so  avowed  an  enemy 
but  Theopompus,  a  famous  historian,8  who  had  writ- 
ten the  history  of  that  prince  in  fifty-eight  books,  of 
which  unhappily  a  few  frament*  only  are  extant, 
give*  a  still  more  disadvantageous  character  of  him. 
"Philip,"  says  he, '  "despised  modesty  and  regu- 
larity of  life."  He  lavished  his  esteem  a'nd  liberality 
on  men  abandoned  to  debauchery  and  the  last  ex» 


•  Dcmo*th.  pro  Cle*.  p.  4-3. 

•  Died.  Sirul.I.  xvi.  p.  4UP. 

•  Theooom-}  a  .ud.  Alhen.  I.  »i.  o-  360 


HISTORY  OF  PHILIP. 


cesses  of  licentiousness.  He  was  pleased  to  see  the 
companions  of  his  pleasures  excel  no  less  in  the 
abominable  arts  of  injustice  and  malignity,  than  in 
the  science  of  debauchery.  What  species  of  infamy, 
what  sort  of  crimes,  did  they  not  commit!"  &c. 

But  a  circumstance,  in  my  opinion,  which  reflects 
the  greatest  dishonour  on  Philip,  is  that  very  one  for 
whirli  he  is  chiefly  esteemed  by  many  persons;  1 
mean  his  politics.  He  is  considered  in  this  respect 
as  a  prince  of  the  greatest  abilities  that  ever  lived. 
And,  indeed,  the  reader  may  have  observed,  by  the 
history  of  his  actions,  that  in  the  very  beginning;  of 
bis  reign,  he  had  laid  down  a  plan,  from  which  he 
never  deviated;  and  this  was  to  raise  himself  to  the 
sovereignty  of  Greece.  When  scarce  seated  on  his 
hrone,  and  surrounded  on  every  side  with  powerful 
nemies,  what  probability  was  there  that  he  could 
form,  at  least  that  he  could  execute,  such  a  project 
as  this?  However,  he  did  not  once  lose  sight  of  it. 
Wars,  battles,  treaties  of  peace,  alliances,  confede- 
racies; in  short,  every  thing  terminated  in  that  point. 
He  was  very  lavish  ot  his  gold  and  silver,  merely  to 
engage  creatures  in  his  service.  He  carried  on  a 

Crivate  intelligence  with  all  the  cities  of  Greece;  and 
V  the  assistance  of  pensioners,  on  whom  he  had 
settled  very  large  stipends,  he  was  informed  very 
exactly  of  all  the  resolutions  taken  in  them,  and 
generally  succeeded  in  causing  the  deliberations  to 
take  a  turn  in  his  own  favour.  By  this  means,  he 
deceived  the  prudence,  eluded  the  efforts,  and  lulled 
asleep  the  vigilance  of  spates,  who  till  then  h=d  been 
looked  upon  as  the  most  active,  the  wisest  a.,d  most 
penetrating,  of  all  Greece.  In  treading  in  these  steps 
for  twenty  years  together,  we  see  him  proceeding 
with  great  order,  and  advancing  regularly  towards 
the  mark'  on  which  his  eye  was  fixed;  but  always  by 
windings  and  subterraneous  passages,  the  outlets 
alone  of  which  discovered  the  design. 

Polyasnus  shows  us  evidently  the  methods  whereby 
he  subjected  Thessaly, '  which  was  of  great  advan- 
tage to  the  completing  of  his  other  designs.  "  He 
did  not,"  gays  he,  "carry  on  an  open  war  against  the 
Thessalians,  but  took  advantage  of  the  discord  that 
divided  the  cities  and  the  whole  country  into  dif- 
ferent factions.  He  succoured  those  who  sued  for 
his  assistance;  and  whenever  he  had  conquered,  he 
did  not  entirely  ruin  the  vanquished,  he  did  not  dis- 
arm them,  nor  raze  their  walls;  on  the  contrary,  he 
protected  the  weakest,  and  endeavoured  to  weaken 
and  subject  the  strongest:  in  a  word,  he  rather 
fomented  than  appeased  their  divisions,  having  in 
every  place  orators  in  his  pay,  those  artificers  of  dis- 
cord, those  firebrands  of  commonwealths.  And  it 
was  by  these  stratagems,  not  by  his  arms,  that  Philip 
subdued  Thessaly." 

All  this  is  a  masterpiece,*  a  miracle,  in  point  of 
politics.  But  what  engines  does  this  art  set  to  work, 
what  methods  does  it  employ  to  compass  its  designs? 
Deceit,  craft,  fraud,  falsehood,  perfidy,  and  perjury. 
Are  these  the  weapons  of  virtue?  We  see  in  this 
prince  a  boundless  ambition,  conducted  by  an  artful, 
insinuating:,  knavish,  subtle  genius;  but  we.  do  not 
find  him  possessed  of  the  qualities  which  form  the 
truly  great  man.  Philip  had  neither  faith  nor  honour; 
every  thing  that  could  contribute  to  the  aggrandizing 
of  his  power,  was  in  his  opinion  just  and  lawful.  He 
gave  his  word  with  a  firm  resolution  to  break  it;  and 
made  promises  which  he  would  have  been  very  sorry 
to  keep.  He  thought  himself  skilful  in  proportion  as 
he  was  perfidious,  and  made  his  glory  consist  in  de- 
ceiving all  with  whom  he  treated.  He  did  not  blush 


>  Pulycn.  1.  iv.  e.  I'.l. 
n.  1.  rii  c.  12. 


»  Demo»th.  Olynth.  ii.  p.  22. 


to  say,3   "That   children  were   amused   with   play 
things,  and  men  with  oaths." 

How  shameful  was  it  for  a  prince  to  be  distinguish 
ed  by  being  more  artful,  a  greater  dissembler,  more 
profound  in  malice,  and  more  a  knave  than  any  other 
person  of  his  age,  and  to  leave  so  infamous  an  idea 
of  himself  to  all  posterity!  What  idea  should  we 
form  to  ourselves  in  our  intercourse  with  the  world, 
of  a  man  who  should  value  himself  upon  tricking 
others,  and  rank  insincerity  and  fraud  among  virtues  * 
Such  a  character  in  private  life  is  detested  as  the  bane 
and  ru!n  of  society.  How  then  can  it  become  an 
object  of  esteem  and  admiration  in  princes  and  IL '/lis- 
ters of  state,  persons  who  are  bound  by  stronger  tie* 
than  the  rest  of  men  (because  of  the  eminence  cf 
their  stations,  and  the  importance  of  the  employ- 
ments they  fill)  to  revere  sincerity,  justice,  and  above 
all,  the  sanctity  of  treaties  and  oaths;  to  bind  which 
they  invoke  the  name  and  majesty  of  a  God,  the 
inexorable  avenger  of  perfidy  and  impiety?  A  bare 
promise  among  private  persons  ought  to  be  sacred 
and  inviolable,  if  they  have  the  least  sense  of  honour; 
but  how  much  more  ought  it  to  be  so  among  princes? 
"We  are  bound,"  says  a  celejyated  writer,*  "in 
speak  truth  to  our  neighbour;  for  the  use  and  appli- 
cation of  speech  imply  a  tacit  promise  of  truth, 
speech  having  been  given  us  for  no  other  purpose. 
It  is  not  a  compact  between  one  private  man  with 
another;  it  is  a  common  compact  of  mankind  in 
general,  and  a  kind  of  right  of  nations,  or  rather  a 
law  of  nature.  IS'ow,  whoever  tells  an  untruth,  vio- 
lates this  law  and  common  compact."  How  greatly 
is  this  enormity  increased,  when  the  sanctity  of  an 
oath  has  intervened,  and  the  name  of  God  been  called 
upon  to  witness  it,  as  is  the  custom  always  in  treaties! 
"Were  sincerity  and  truth  banished  from  every  part 
of  the  earth,"5  said  John  I.  king  of  France,  upon  hi« 
being  solicited  to  \iolate  a  treaty,  "  they  ought  to  b« 
found  in  the  hearts  and  in  the  mouths  of  kings." 

The  circumstance  which  prompts  politicians  to  act 
in  this  manner,  is,  their  being  persuaded  that  it  is  the 
only  means  to  make  a  negotiation  succeed.  But 
though  this  were  the  case,  yet  can  it  ever  be  lawful 
to  purchase  such  success  at  the  expense  of  probitj 
honour,  and  religion?  "  If  your  father-in-law* 
(Ferdinand  the  Catholic,6)  said  Lewis  XII.  to  Philip 
archduke  of  Austria,  "  has  acted  perfidiously,  1  ana 
determined  not  to  imitate  him;  and  I  am  much  more 
pleased  in  having  lost  a  kingdom  (Naples)  which  I 
am  able  to  recover,  than  1  should  have  been  had  I 
lost  my  honour,  which  can  never  be  recovered." 

But  those  politicians  who  have  neither  honour  nor 
religion,  deceive  themselves  even  in  this  very  par- 
ticular. I  shall  not  have  recourse  to  the  Christian 
world  for  princes  and  ministers,  whose  notions  of 
policy  were  very  different  from  these.  To  go  no 
farther  than  our  Greek  history,  how  many  great  men 
have  we  seen  perfectly  successful  in  the  administra- 
tion of  public  affairs,  in  treaties  of  peace  and  war;  in 
a  word,  in  the  most  important  negotiations,  without 
once  making  use  of  artifice  and  deceit!  An  Aristides, 
a  Cimon,  a  Phocion,  and  so  many  more,  some  of 
whom  were  so  very  scrupulous  in  matters  relating  to 
truth,  as  to  believe  they  were  not  allowed  to  tell  a 
falsehood,  even  laugh'ng  «nd  in  sport.  Cyrus,  the 
most  famous  conqueror  of  tLe  east,  thought  nothing 
was  more  unworthy  of  a  prince,  nor  more  capable  of 
drawing  upon  him  the  contempt  «nd  hatred  of  his  sub- 
jects, than  lying  and  deceit.  Ic  therefore  ought  to  be 
looked  upon  as  a  certain  truth,  ti.ot  no  success,  ho\r 
brilliant  soever,  can  or  ought  to  CO»-°,  t!  e  shame  and 
ignominy  which  arise  from  breaoh  of  faith  and  perjury. 


«  M.   Nicole,  on  the  epistle  of  t.V   !<>t*  Ps»-U»  »fter 
Whitiumide.  t  Meserai.  *  1W*. 


THE 


HISTORY    OF    ALEXANDER. 


BOOK  XV 


SECTION.  I. — ALEXANDER'S  BIRTH.  THE  TEM- 
PLE OF  El-HESU*  IS  BURNED  THE  SAME  DAY. 
THE  HAPPV  NATURAL  INCLINATIONS  OF  THAT 
PRINCE.  ARISTOTLE  IS  APPOINTED  HIS  PRECEP- 
TOR, WHO  INSPIRES  HIM  WITH  A  SURPRISING 
TASTE  FOR  LEARNING.  HE  BREAKS  BUCEPHA- 
V.US. 

ALEXANDER   was   born   in    the 

A.  M.  3648.  first  year  of  the  106th  Olympiad.' 
Ant.  J.  C.356.  The  very  day  he  came  into  the 
world,  the  celebrated  temple  of  Diana 
at  Ephesus  was  burned.  It  is  well  known  that  this 
temple  was  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world. 
It  had  been  built  in  the  name  and  at  the  expense  of 
all  Asia  Minor.  A  great  number  of  year?2  were  em- 
ployed in  building  it.  Its  length  was  425  feet,  and 
Its  breadth  220.  It  was  supported  by  127  columns, 
threescore  feet  high,  which  as  many  kings3  had  caused 
to  be  wrought  at  a  great  expense,  and  by  the  most 
excellent  arlists,  who  endeavoured  to  excel  one  ano- 
ther on  this  occasion.  The  rest  of  the  temple  corre- 
sponded in  magnificence  with  these  columns. 

Hegesias  *  of  Magnesia,*  according  to  Plutarch, 
tays,  "  That  it  was  no  wonder  the  temple  was  burned, 
because  Diana  was  that  dav  employed  at  the  d<  livery 
of  Olympian,  to  facilitate  the  birth  of  Alexander:"  a 
reflection,  says  our  author,  so  very  cold,8  that  it  misrht 
have  extinguished  the  fire.  Cicero,7  who  ascribes 
this  saying  to  Timaeus,  declares  it  a  very  smart  one, 
at  which  I  am  very  much  surprised.  Possiblv  the 
fondness  he  had  for  jokes,  made  him  not  very  delicate 
in  things  of  this  kind. 

One  Erostratai*  had  set  fire  to  the  temple  on  pur- 
pose. Being  put  to  the  torture,  in  order  to  force 
him  to  confess  his  motive  for  committing  so  infamous 
an  action,  he  owned  that  it  was  with  the  view  of  ma- 
king himself  known  to  posterity,  and  to  immortalize 
his  name,  by  destroying  so  noble  a  structure.  The 
states  general  of  Asia  imagined  they  should  prevent 
the  success  of  his  view,  bv  publishing  a  decree,  pro- 
hibiting the  mention  of  his  name.  However,  their 
prohibition  only  excited  a  greater  curiosity;  for 
scarce  one  of  the  historians  of  that  age  has  omitted 
to  mention  so  monstrous  an  extravagance,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  tell  u«  the  name  of  the  criminal. 

The  ruling  passion  in  Alexander,9  even  from  his 
tender  years,  was  ambition,  and  an  ardent  de«ire  of 
glory;  but  not  for  every  species  of  glory.  Philip, 
like  a  sophist,  valued  himself  upon  hig  eloquence  and 
the  beauty  of  his  style;  and  had  the  vanity  to  cau»e 
to  be  engraved  upon  his  coins  the  several  victories 
he  had  won  at  the  Olympic  games  in  the  chariot- 
race.  But  it  was  not  to  this  his  son  aspired.  His 
friends  asking  him  one  day,  whether  he  would  not 


i  Plin.  I.  xxxvi.  c.  14. 

»  Fliny  says  'i-0  years,  which  in  not  probable. 

»  Anciently  almost  every  city  was  governed  by  ill  parti- 
cular kin;.  *  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  6T>5. 

i  He  was  an  historian,  and  lived  in  the  tim«  of  Ptolemy 
ton  of  I,a»u». 

•  I  do  not  know  whether  Plutarch's  reflection  be  not  still 

Cold.T. 

'  ConcinnS,  ut  mtilta,  Timsus  ;  qui,  c2m  in  histcria  dix- 
t'set,  (<ua  nocte  natun  Alexander  esset,  <  adorn  Diane  Ephe- 
»i«E  tomplum  dcflagravUse,  adjunxit  :  minim6  id  es«e  mi- 
randum.  quod  Diana,  cdm  in  partu  Olympiad!*  adeue  volu- 
i«et.  ahfuieoet  domo.  De  nut  dear.  \. "ii.  n.  09. 

•  Valer.  Max.  I.  viii.  c.  14. 

•  Plut.  in  vit.  Alex.  p.  664—668,    Id.  de  Fortum.  Alex. 
p  343. 


be  present  at  the  games  above  mentioned,  in  older 
to  dispute  the  prize,  for  he  was  very  swift  of  foot; 
he  answered,  "That  he  would  contend  in  them,  pro- 
vided kings  were  to  be  his  antagonists." 

Every  time  newt  was  brought  him,  that  his  father 
had  taken  some  city,  or  gained  some  great  battle, 
Alexander,  far  from  sharing  in  the  general  joy,  used 
to  say,  in  a  plaintive  tone  of  voice,  to  the  young 
persons  that  were  brought  up  with  him,  "  Friends, 
my  father  will  possess  himself  of  every  thing,  and 
leave  nothing  for  us  to  do." 

One  day  some  ambassadors  from  the  king  of  Per- 
sia being  arrived  at  the  court  during  Philip's  absence, 
Alexander  gave  them  so  courteons  and  so  polite  a 
reception,  and  regaled  them  in  so  noble  and  generous 
a  manner,  as  charmed  them  all.  But  that  which  most 
surprised  them  was,  the  good  sense  and  judgment 
which  he  discovered  in  the  several  conversations  they 
had  with  him.  He  did  not  propose  to  them  any 
thing  that  was  trifling,  as  might  be  expected  from  one 
of  his  age;  such,  for  instance,  as  inquiring  about  the 
so-miich-boasted  gardens  suspended  in  the  air,  the 
riches  and  magnificence  of  the  palace  and  court  of  the 
king  of  Persia,  which  excited  the  admiration  of  the 
whole  world;  the  famous  golden  plane-tree;  and 
that  Golden  vine,10  the  grapes  of  which  were  of  eme- 
ralds, carbuncles,  rubies,  and  all  sorts  of  precious 
stones,  under  which  the  Persian  monarch  was  said 
frequently  to  give  audience  to  ambassadors:  Alexan- 
der asked  them  questions  of  a  quite  different  nature 
inquiring  which  was  the  road  to  Upper  Asia;  the  dis- 
tance of  the  several  places:  in  what  the  strength  and 
power  of  the  king  of  Persia  consisted;  in  what  part 
of  the  battle  he  fought;  how  he  behaved  towards  his 
enemies;  and  in  what  manner  he  governed  his  sub- 
jects. These  ambassadors  admired  him  all  the  while: 
and  perceiving  even  at  that  time  what  he  might  one  day 
become,  they  pointed  out,  in  a  few  words,  the  differ- 
ence they  found  between  Alexanderand  Artaxerxes," 
by  saying  one  to  another,  "This  young  prince  » 
great  and  ours  is  rich."12  That  man  must  be  very  in- 
significant, who  has  no  other  merit  than  his  riches! 

So  ripe  a  judgment  in  this  young  prince,  was  owing 
as  much  to  the  good  education  which  had  been  given 
him  as  to  the  excellence  of  his  natural  abilities.  Se 
veral  preceptors  were  appointed  to  teach  him  what- 
soever was  worthy  the  heir  to  a  great  kingdom;  and 
the  chief  of  these  was  Leonidas,  a  relation  of  the 
queen,  and  a  person  of  the  most  severe  morals.  Alex- 
ander himselt  related  afterwards,  that  this  Leonidas, 
in  their  journeys  together,  used  frequently  to  look 
into  the  trunks  where  his  bed  and  clothes  were  laid, 
in  order  to  see  if  Olympias  his  mother  had  not  put 
something  superfluous  into  them,  which  might  adml 
ntster  to  delicacy  and  luxury.  But  the  greatest  ser 
vice  Philip  did  his  son,  was  appointing  Aristotle  his 
preceptor,  the  most  famous  and  the  most  learned  phi- 
losopher of  his  age,  whom  he  intrusted  with  the 
whole  care  of  his  education.  One  of  the  reasons" 
which  prompted  Philip  to  choose  him  a  master  of  so 
conspicuous  a  reputation  and  merit  was,  as  he  himself 
said,  that  his  son  might  avoid  committing  a  great  ma 
ny  faults,  of  which  he  himself  had  been  guilty. 

Philip  was  sensible,  how  great  a  treasure  he  pos- 
sessed in  the  person  of  Aristotle;  for  which  reason  h« 


>•  Athen  1.  xii.  p.  530.  "  Art«»erxe«  Ochut. 

t»  'O  »»7{  euTO(.£ai<Xivc  ^i'y««'»  f«W»lT«C*»,  w*.tvr.tt 
«»  Plut.  in  Apophthej.p.  178. 

£27 


528 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


settled  a  very  considerable  stipend  upon  him,  and 
afterwards  rewarded  his  pains  and  care  in  an  infinite- 
ly more  glorious  manner;  for  having  destroyed  and 
laid  waste  the  city  of  Siagira.i  the  native  prace  of 
that  philosopher,  he  rebuilt  it,  purely  out  of  affection 
for  him:  reinstated  the  inhabitants  who  had  fled  from 
it,  or  wire  made  slaves;  and  gave  them  a  fine  park  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Stagira,  as  a  place  for  their 
studies  and  assemblies.  Even  in  Plutarch's  time,  the 
stone  seats  which  Aristotle  had  placed  there  were 
standing;  as  also  spacious  avenues  of  trees,  under 
which  those  who  walked  were  shaded  from  the  sun- 
beams. 

Alexander  likewise  discovered  no  less  esteem  for 
his  ma-ter,  whom  he  believed  himself  bound  to  love 
as  much  as  if  he  had  been  his  father;  declaring. 

That  he  was  indebted  to  the  one  for  living,  and  to 
the  other  for  living  well."8  The  progress  of  the  pu- 
pil was  <qual  to  the  care  and  abilities  of  the  precep- 
tor. He  grew  passionately  fond  of  philosophy  ,3  and 
learned  the  several  branches  of  it,  but  with  the  discri- 
mination suitable  to  his  birth.  Aristotle  endeavoured 
to  improve  his  judgement  bv  laying  down  sure  and 
certain  rules,  by  which  he  might  distinguish  just  and 
solid  reasoning  from  what  is  merely  specious;  and  by 
accustoming  him  to  separate  in  discourse  all  such  pans 
as  only  dazzle,  from  those  which  are  truly  solid,  and 
should  constitute  its  whole  value.  He  also  exercised 
him  in  metaphysics,  which  may  be  of  great  benefit  to 
a  prince,  provided  he  applies  himself  to  them  with 
moderation,  as  they  explain  to  him  the  nature  of  the 
human  mind;  how  greatly  it  differs  from  matter;  in 
what  manner  he  perceives  spiritual  things;  how  he  is 
sensible  of  the  impression  ol  those  that  surround  him, 
and  many  other  questions  of  the  like  import.  The 
reader  will  naturally  suppose,  that  he  did  not  omit 
either  the  mathematics,  which  are  so  well  calculated 
to  give  the  mind  a  just  turn  of  thinking;  or  the  won- 
ders of  nature,  the  study  of  which,  besides  a  great 
many  other  advantages,  shows  how  very  incapable 
the  mind  of  man  is  to  discover  the  secret  principles 
of  the  things  to  which  he  is  daily  an  eye'  witness. 
But  Alexander  applied  himself  chiefly  to  morality, 
which  is  properly  the  science  of  kings,  because  it  is 
the  knowledge  of  mankind,  and  of  all  their  duties. 
This  he  made  his  serious  and  profound  study;  and 
considered  it,  even  at  that  time,  as  the  foundation  of 
prudence  and  wise  policy.  How  much  must  such  an 
education  contribute  to  enable  a  prince  to  conduct 
himsell  well  with  regard  to  his  own  interests  uud  the 
government  of  his  people! 

The  greatest  master  of  rhetoric*  that  antiquity 
could  ever  boast,  and  who  has  left  so  excellent  a  trea- 
tise on  that  subject,  took  care  to  make  that  science 
part  of  his  pupil  s  education:  and  we  find  that  Alex- 
ander, even  in  the  midst  of  his  conquests,  was  often 
very  urgent  with  Aristotle  to  send  him  a  treatise  on 
that  sufject.  To  this  we  owe  the  work  entitled 
Alexander's  Rhetoric;  in  the  beginning  of  which, 
Aristotle  proves  to  him  the  vast  advantages  a  prince 
may  reap  from  eloquence,  as  it  gives  him  the  greatest 
ascendant  over  the  minds  of  men,  which  he  ought  to 
acquire  as  well  by  his  wisdom  as  authority.  Some- 
answers  and  letters  of  Alexander,  which  are  still  ex- 
tant, show  that  he  possessed  in  its  greatest  perfection, 
that  strong,  that  manly  eloquence,  which  abound? 
with  sense  and  ideas;  and  which  is  so  entirelv  free 
from  superfluous  expressions,  that  every  single  word 
has  its  meaning;  which,  properly  speaking,  is  the  elo- 
quence of  kings.* 

His  esteem,  or  rather  his  passion,  for  Homer,  shows 
not  only  with  what  figure  and  success  he  applied 
himself  to  polite  literature,  but  the  judicious  use  he 
made  of  it.  and  the  solid  advantages  he  proposed  to 
himself  from  it.  He  was  not  prompted  to  ptruse  this 
poet  merely  out  of  curiosity,  or  to  unbend  his  mind, 
ur  from  a  pre»t  fondness  for  poesy;  but  his  view  in 
itudvin?  this  admirable  writer  was,  in  order  to  bor- 


i   A  rny  of  Marcilnn,  near  the  S<M  shore. 
»  'i!f  ii*  iinn»  p.v  £*»,  *•»  T-.VT-,  5,  «» 
>  R'-tinuit  ex  «apientii  modum.     Tacit. 
«  Anoint,  in  Rhetor,  ad  Alex.  p.  606,  009 
1   laijKTRioria  brevitate.     Ttcit, 


row  such  sentiments  from  him  as  are  worthy  a 
king  and  a  conqueror;  courage,  intrepidity,  magnani- 
mity, temperance,  prudence,  the  art  of  commnndins: 
well  in  war,  and  governing  well  in  peace.  And,  in- 
deed, the  verse  which  pleased  him  most  in  Homer.* 
was  that  where  Agamemnon  is  represented  as  agoud 
king  and  a  brave  warrior. 

Alter  this  it  is  no  wonder  that  Alexander  should 
have  so  high  an  esteem  for  this  poet.  Thus,  when 
after  the  battle  of  Arbtla,  the  Macedonians  had  found 
among  the  spoils  of  Dnriiis  a  gold  ca?ket  (enriched 
with  precious  stone*,)  hi  which  the  exquisite  per- 
fumes used  by  that  prince  were  put;  Altxar.t:  A  ho 
was  quite  covered  with  dust,  and  regarrle-is.  c  f  es 
sences  and  perfumes,  destined  this  rich  casket  to  hold 
Homer'?  poems,  which  he  considered  the  most  per 
feet  and  the  most  precious  production  of  the  human 
mind.7  He  admired  particularly  the  Iliad,  which  he 
called.  The  best  provision  for  a  warrior*  He  al- 
ways had  with  him  that  edition  ol  Homer  which 
Aristotle  had  revised  and  corrected,  and  to  which 
the  title  of  the  Edition  of  the  Casket  was  givm;  »i>d 
he  laid  it,  with  bis  sword,  every  night,  under  his 
pillow. 

Fond,9  even  to  excess,  of  every  kind  of  glory,  he 
was  displeased  with  Aristotle,  his  master,  for  having 
published,  in  his  absence,  certain  airtaphygical  puces 
which  he  himstlf  desired  to  possess  alone;  am)  e-ver 
at  the  time  when  he  was  employed  in  the  conquest  o 
Asia,  and  the  pursuit  of  Darius,  he  wrote  to  him  a 
letter  which  is  still  extant,  wherein  he  com)  lain*  up- 
on that  very  account.  Alexander  says  in  it.  that  "he 
had  much  rather  surpass  the  rest  of  men  in  the 
knowledge  of  sublime  and  excellent  things,  than  in 
the  greatness  aud  extent  of  his  power."  lo  He  in  like 
manner  requested  Aristotle,"  not  to  show  the  treatise 
of  rhetoric  above  mentioned  to  anv  person  but  him- 
self. I  will  confess,  that  there  is  anexce-s  in  this 
strong  de.«ire  of  glory,  which  prompts  him  to  sup- 
press the  merit  of  others,  in  order  that  his  alone  may 
appear;  but  then  we  at  least  mu«t  confess,  tl  at  it  dis- 
covers such  a  passion  for  study  as  is  very  laudable  in 
a  prince;  and  the  very  reverse  of  that  inditli  n  nee, 
not  to  say  contempt  and  aversion,  which  most  toung 
persons  of  high  birth  express  for  all  things  that  re- 
late to  learning  and  studv. 

I'lntarch  points  out  to  us,  in  a  few  words,  the  infi- 
nite advantage  that  Alexander  reaped  from  this  taste, 
with  which  his  master  (than  whom  no  man  possess- 
ed irreater  talents  for  the  education  of  youth)  had  in- 
spired him  from  his  most  tender  infancy.  "He  lo\e<!," 
savs  that  author,  "  to  converse  with  learned  men,  to 
improve  himself  in  knowledge,  and  to  study  ;"12  it  ne 
sources  of  a  monarch's  happiness,  which  e-nabie  him 
to  secure  himself  from  numberless  difficulties;  three 
certain  and  infallible  methods  of  learning  to  leign 
without  the  assistance  of  others.  The  conversation 
of  persons  of  fine  sense  instructs  a  prince  while  it 
amu-ps  him.  and  teaches  him  a  thousand  curious  and 
use-fill  things  without  costing  him  the  1<  a-t  trouble. 
The  lessons  which  able  masters  give  him,  on  the 
most  exalted  sciences,  and  partici'larly  on  politics, 
improve  his  mind  wonderfully,  and  furnish  him  with 
rules  to  govern  his  subjects  with  wi-i'om.  AnJ 
lastlv,  study,  especially  that  of  historv,  crown*  all  the 
rest,  and  is  to  him  a  preceptor  for  all  sea? DPS  and  for 
all  honr«,  who,  without  ever  growing  tiouhlesome, 
acquaints  him  with  truths  which  no  one  el-e  would 
dare  to  ttll  him.  anil,  under  fictitious  names,  «  N!  I  i's 
the  prince  to  himself;  teaches  him  to  know  himself. 
as  well  as  mankind,  who  are  the  same  in  all  ane-s. 


lfc;  T»  =. 
Iliad.  ?.  v.  171 1. 


I'mu.  .  .  *  .   i  .  ". 

*  Pretio«is»imum  humani  animi  opus.     Plin.  I.  vii.i .  •?.'. 

•  -fij;  •>'.*.,••,**;    i(ir,f    i;.Jic».      The    word,    winch    I 
ba»e  not  been  able  to  render  better,  nisnitirs.  tliat  injhe  Ili- 
ad are  found  whatever   relates  to  the  an  of  war,  and  Ibo 
qualities  of  a  general:  in  a  word,  all   tilings  necessary  u 


form  a  good  commander. 
»  Aul.  Gel.  I.  xx.  r.  5 

10  "E^i  i.  i;v>.:,u,v 
r* .;  JUI»/IIT.V  Xixfift 
ti   Ari«t.   p  l'tr!>. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


529 


A«exandor  owed  all  these  advantages  to  the  excellent 
education  which  Aristotle  gave  him. 

He  had  also  a  taste  for  the  whole  circle  of  arts,1 
out  such  as  becomes  a  prince;  that  is,  he  knew  the 
value  and  usefulness  of  then).  Music,  painting,  sculp- 
ture, architecture,  flourished  in  his  reign,  because  they 
found  in  him  b  -th  a  skilful  judge  and  a  generous  pro- 
tector,'  who  was  able  to  distinguish  and  reward  merit 
wherever  displayed. 

But  he  despised  certain  trifling  feats  of  dexterity,3 
that  were  of  no  use.  Much  admiration  was  lavished  on 
a  man,  who  employed  himself  very  earnestly  in  throw- 
ing sr.iall  ptas  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,4  which  he 
would  do  at  a  considerable  distance,  and  without 
once  missing.  Alexander  seeing  him  thus  engaged, 
ordered  him,  as  we  are  told,  a  present  suitable  to  his 
employment,  viz.  a  basket  of  pease. 

Alexander  was  of  a  lively  disposition;  resolute,  and 
very  tenacious  of  his  opinion,  which  never  gave  way 
to  compulsion,  but  at  tin-  same  time  would  submit  im- 
mediately to  reason  and  good  sense.  It  requires  great 
judgment  and  delicacy  to  manage  such  a  disposition. 
Philip  accordingly,  notwithstanding  his  double  au- 
thority of  king  and  father,  believed  it  necessary  to 
em;>l  >\  pei>u;isioii  rather  than  constraint  with  respect 
to  his  «on,  and  endeavoured  to  make  himself  beloved 
ratlur  than  feared  by  him. 

An  accidental  occurrence  made  him  entertain  a  very 
advantageous  opinion  of  Alexander.  There  had  been 
sent  from  The-saly  to  Philip  a  war-horse,  a  noble, 
fiery  irenerous  beast,  called  Bucephalus.*  The  ow- 
ner ortered  to  sell  him  for  thirteen  talents,  about 
1900/.  st,  i-ling.  The  king  went  into  the  plains,  at- 
tended bv  his  courtiers,  in  order  to  make  trial  of  this 
horse;  but  he  appeared  so  very  fierce,  and  reared  so 
when  any  one  came  near  him,  that  no  one  dared  to 
mount  him.  Philip,  being  angry  that  so  furious  and 
unmanageable  a  creature  had  been  sent  him,  ordered 
him  ba--k  again.  Alexander,  who  was  present,  cried 
out,  "  What  a  noble  horse  they  aro  going  to  lose,  for 
want  of  addnss  and  boldness  to  back  him!"  Philip, 
at  lir>t,  comidervd  these  words  as  the  effect  of  folly 
and  nishr.  jss,  so  common  to  young  men:  but  as  Alex- 
ander insisted  still  more  upon  what  he  had  said,  and 
was  very  much  vexed 'to  see  so  noble  a  creature  just 
going  to  be  sent  home  ag'ain,  his  father  gave  him 
leave  to  try  what  he  could  do.  The  young  prince, 
over), .veil  at  this  permission,  goes  up  to  Bucephalus, 
takes  hold  of  his  bridle,  and  turns  his  head  to  the 
sun;  having  observed  that  what  frightened  him  was 
his  own  shadow,  he  seeing  it  dance  about,  or  sink 
down,  in  proportion  as  he  moved.  He,  therefore, 
firsi  -troked  him  gently  with  his  hand,  and  soothed 
him  with  his  voice;  then  seeing  hii  fierceness  abate, 
and  artfully  taking  his  opportunity,  he  let  fall  his 
cloak,  and  springing  swiftly  upon  his  back,  first  slack- 
ened the  rein,  without  once  striking  or  vexing  him: 
and  when  he  perceived  that  his  fire  was  cooled,  that 
he  was  no  longer  so  furious  and  violent,  and  wanted 
only  to  move  forward,  he  gave  him  the  rein,  and  spur- 
ring him  with  great  vigour,  animated  him  with  his 
voice  to  his  full  speed.  While  this  was  doing,  Phi- 
lip and  his  whole  court  trembled  for  fear,  and  did  not 
once  open  lluir  lips;  but  when  the  prince,  after  hav- 
ing run  hi?  first  heat,  returned  with  joy  and  pride,  at 
his  having  broken  a  horse  whim  was  judged  absolute- 
ly ungovernable,  all  the  courtiers  in  general  endea- 
voured to  outvie  one  another  in  their  applauses  and 
congratulations;  and,  we  are  told,  Philip  shed  tears 
ofjoj  on  this  occasion,  and  embracing  Alexander  af- 
ter he  was  alighted, and  kissing  his  head. said  to  him, 
'•  My  sun  set  k  a  kingdom  more  worthy  of  thee,  for 
Macedon  is  below  thy  merit." 

We  are  told  a  great  many  surprising  particulars  of 
'his  Bucephalus;  for  whatever  had  any  relation  to 


«  Pint.  Je  F..rtun.  Alex.  Serm.  ii.  p.  333. 

- 


*  (iuintil.  lib.  ii.  rap.  21. 

<  \V.   may  suppose  it  was  come  instrument  in  the  shape 
if  a  nemle. 

•  Some  tnmk  h<!  was  called  to  became  hii  head  was  like 
that  uf  an  ox. 

Vol.  I—  <57 


Alexander,  was  to  be  of  the  marvellous  kind.  When 
this  creature  was  saddled  and  equipped  for  battle."  h* 
would  surt'er  no  one  to  back  him  but  his  master;  HIH! 
it  would  not  have  been  safe  for  any  ether  person  to 
go  ntar  him.  Whenever  Alexanderwanted  to  mount 
him,  he  would  knetl  down  upon  his  fore-leet.  Ac- 
cording to  some  historians,  in  the  battle  against  Po- 
rn-, where  Alexander  had  plunged  too  imprudently 
amidst  a  body  of  the  enemy,  his  horse,  though  cover- 
ed with  wounds,  did  however  exert  himself  in  so  vi- 
gorous a  manner  that  he  saved  his  master's  life;  and 
notwithstanding  the  deep  wounds  he  had  received, 
and  though  almost  spent  through  the  great  effusion 
of  blood,  he  brought  oft  Alexander  from  among  the 
combatants,  and  carried  him  with  inexpressible  vi-nur 
to  a  place  of  security;  where,  perceiving7  the  king 

r  J  '  I      .  O  O 

was  no  longer  in  clanger,  and  overjoyed  iu«ome  mea- 
sure to  die  after  the  service  he  hr.d  done  him,  he  ex- 
pired. This  indeed  is  a  very  noble  end  for  a  horse. 
Others  say,  that  Bucephalus,  quite  worn  out,  died  at 
thirty  years  of  age.  Alexander  bewailed  his  death 
bitterly,  believing  that  he  had  lost  in  him  a  most 
faithful  and  affectionate  friend;  and  afterwards  built 
a  city  on  the  very  spot  where  he  was  buried,  near  the 
river  Hydaspes,  and  called  it  Euceplialia,  in  honour 
of  him. 

1  have  related  efeewhere  that  Alexander,  at  six- 
teen years  of  age,  was  appointed  regent  of  Macedo- 
nia, and  invested  with  absolute  authority  during  hii 
father's  absence,  that  he  behaved  with  great  pru- 
dence and  bravery;  and  that  afterwards  he  distin- 
guished himself  in  a  most  signal  manner  at  the  battle 
of  Charonea. 

SECTION  II.— ALEXANDER,  AFTER  THE  DEATH 
OF  PHILIP,  ASCENDS  THE  TffRONE  AT  TWENTY 
YEARS  OF  AGE.  HE  SUBJECTS  AND  REDUCES  THE 
NATIONS  CONTIGUOUS  TO  MACEDON,  WHO  HAD 
REVOLTED.  HE  GOES  INTO  GREECE,  TO  DISSOLVE 
THE  ALLIANCE  FORMED  AGAINST  HIM.  HF  CAP- 
TURKS  AND  T'ESTROYS  THEBES,  AND  PARDONS 
THE  ATHENIANS.  HE  PROCURES  HIMSELF  TO 
BE  NOMINATED,  IN  THE  DIET  OR  ASSEMBLY  AT 
CORINTH,  GENERALISSIMO  OF  THE  GREEKS 
AGAINST  PERSIA.  HE  RETURNS  TO  MACEDON 
AND  MAKES  PREPARATIONS  FOR  CARRYLNiV  HIS 
ARMS  INTO  ASIA. 

DARIUS   and   Alexander  began  to 
reign  the  same  year:1  the   latter  was        A.  M.  3668. 
but  twenty  when  he  succeeded  to  the    Ant.  J.  C.  336. 
crown.     His   first  care  was  to  solem- 
nize the   funeral  obsequies  of  his  father  with  the  ut- 
most pomp,  and  to  revenge  his  death. 

Upon  his  accession  to  the  throne,  he  saw  himself 
surrounded  on  every  side  with  extreme  dangers.  The 
barbarous  nations  against  whom  Philip  had  fought 
during  his  whole  reign,  and  from  whom  he  had  made 
several  conquests,  which  he  had  united  to  his  cr,wn, 
after  having  dethroned  their  natural  kings;  thought 
proper  to  take  advantage  of  this  juncture,  in  which  a 
new  prince,  who  was  but  young,  had  ascended  the 
throne,  for  recovering  their  liberty,  and  uniting  against 
the  common  usurper.  Nor  was  he  under  less  appre. 
hensions  from  Greece.  Philip,  though  he  had  per- 
mitted the  several  cities  and  commonwealths  to  con- 
tinue to  all  outward  appearance  their  ancient  form  of 
government,  had  however  entirely  changed  it  in  re- 
aliiy.  and  made  himself  absolute  master  of  it.  Though 
absent,  he  nevertheless  predominated  in  all  the  as- 
semblies; and  not  a  single  resolution  was  taken,  but 
in  subordination  to  his  will.  Though  he  had  sub- 
dued all  Greece,  either  by  the  terror  of  his  arms,  or 
the  secret  machinations  of  policy,  he  had  not  had 
time  sufficient  to  subject  and  accustom  it  to  h.»  pow- 
er, but  had  left  all  things  in  it  in  great  ferment  and 
disorder,  the  minds  of  the  vanquished  not  being  yet 
calmed  nor  moulded  to  subjection. 

The  Macedonians  reflecting  on  this  precarious  «itu- 


•  Aul.  Gel.  I.  v.  r.  ". 

'  Et  iliimini  jam  auperstitiasecurus.  qua«i  cum  »en»lnh«- 
mani  snlatio,  animam  expiravit.     Attl.  Oell. 

*  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  67«.  672.      Diml   I.  x?ii.  p.  486—488 
Arrian.  I.  i.  de  Expedit.  Alex.  p.  2—23. 

2  U 


530 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


at'ion  of  things,  advised  Alexander  to  relinquish 
Greece,  and  not  to  persist  in  his  resolution  of  subdu- 
ing it  by  force;  to  recover  by  gentle  methods  the 
barbarians  who  had  taken  anus,  and  to  soothe, 1  as  it 
were,  those  glimmerings  of  revolt  and  innovation  by- 
prudent  reserve,  complacency  and  insinuations,  in  or- 
der to  conciliate  Bisection.  However,  Alexander 
would  not  listen  to  these  timorous  counsels,  but  re- 
solved to  secure  and  support  his  affairs  by  boldness 
and  magnanimity:  firmly  persuaded,  that  should  he 
relax  in  any  point  at  first,  all  his  neighbours  would 
fall  upon  him;  and  that  were  he  to  endeavour  to  com- 
promise matters,  he  should  be  obliged  to  give  up  all 
Philip's  conquests,  and  thus  to  confine  his  dominions 
to  the  narrow  limits  of  Macedon.  He  therefore  made 
all  possible  haste  to  check  the  arms  of  the  barbarians, 
by  marching  his  troops  with  the  greatest  expedition 
to  the  banks  of  the  Danube,  which  he  crossed  in  one 
night.  He  defeated  the  king  of  the  Triballi  in  a 
great  battle:  made  the  Geta?  fly  at  his  approach;  sub- 
dued several  barbarous  nations,  some  by  the  terror 
of  his  name,  and  others  by  force  of  arms;  and  not- 
withstanding the  arrogant  answer  of  their  ambassa- 
dors,* he  taught  them  to  dread  a  danger  still  more 
near  them  than  the  falling  of  the  sky  and  planets. 

Whilst  Alexander  was  thus  employed  at  a  distance 
against  the  barbarians,  all  the  cities  of  Greece,  who 
were  animated  more  particularly  by  Demosthenes, 
formed  a  powerful  alliance  against  that  prince.  A 
false  report  which  prevailed  of  his  death,  inspired  the 
Theoans  with  a  boldness  that  proved  their  ruin. 
They  cut  to  pieces  part  of  the  Macedonian  garrison 
in  their  citadel.  Demosthenes,3  on  the  other  side, 
was  every  day  haranguing  the  people;  and  fired  with 
contempt  for  Alexander,  whom  he  called  a  child,* 
and  a  hair-brained  boy,  he  assured  the  Athenians,  with 
a  decisive  tone  of  voice,  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear 
from  the  new  king  of  Macedon,  who  did  not  dare  to 
stir  out  of  his  kingdom;  but  would  think  himself  vast- 
ly happy  could  he  sit  peaceably  on  his  throne.  At 
the  same  time  he  wrote  letters  upon  letters  to  Atta- 
lus,  one  of  Philip's  lieutenants  in  Asia  Minor,  to  ex- 
cite him  to  rebel.  This  Attains  was  uncle  to  Cleo- 
patra, Philip's  second  wife,  and  was  very  much  dis- 
posed to  listen  to  Demosthenes's  proposals.  Never- 
theless, as  Alexander  was  grown  very  diffident  of  him, 
for  which  he  knew  there  was  but  too  much  reason; 
h°.  therefore,  to  eradicate  from  his  mind  all  the  sus- 
picions which  he  might  entertain,  and  the  better  to 
screen  his  designs,  sent  all  Demosthenes's  letters  to 
that  prince.  But  Alexander  saw  through  all  his  ar- 
tifices, and  thereupon  ordered  Hecatajus,  one  of  his 
commanders,  whom  he  had  sent  into  Asia  for  that 
purpose,  to  have  him  assassinated,  which  was  execu- 
ted accordingly.  Attalus's  death  restored  tranqnil- 
lity  to  the  army,  and  entirely  destroyed  the  seeds  of 
discord  and  rebellion. 

When  Alexander  had  secured  his 
A.  M.  3669.  kingdom  from  the  barbarians,  he 
Ant.  J.  C.  335.  marched  with  the  utmost  expedition 
towards  Greece,  and  passed  Ther- 
mopylae. He  then  said  to  those  who  accompanied 
him:  "Demosthenes  called  me,  in  his  orations,  a 
child,  when  1  was  in  Illy ria,  and  among  the  Triballi; 
he  called  me  a  young  man  when  I  was  in  Thessaly; 
and  I  must  now  show  him,  before  the  walls  of  Athens 
that  I  am  a  man  grown."  He  appeared  so  suddenly 
in  Bajotia,  that  the  Thebans  could  scarce  believe  their 
eyes.*  When  he  came  before  their  walls  he  was  wil- 


»  Alexander,  imagining  that  his  name  only  had  struck 
these  people  with  terror,  asked  their  ambassadors  what 
things  they  dreaded  most?  They  replied,  with  a  haushty 
tone  of  voice,  that  they  were  afraid  of  nothing  but  the  fall- 
ing of  the  sky  and  stars. 

»  jEs<;hin.  contra  Ctesiph,  p.  453. 

«  It  is  fixcy-lir,!  in  Greek,  a  word  which  has  many  signi- 
firat;ons  in  that  language. 

•  [The  Tiiballi  inhabited  what  is  now  called  Bulgaria,  or 
the  tract  between  Mount  HcEmus  and  the  Danube,  after- 
ward* denominated  Lower  Mcrsia.  Strubo  indeed  places 
them  in  Thrace  ;  but  the  ancient  geographers,  as  Pliny  and 
others,  extei.led  it  to  tha  Ister  or  Danube ;  aud  Heridntus 
tali.id  it  the  largnat  country  in  the  world  except  India.  This 


ling  to  give  them  time  to  repent,  and  only  demanded 
to  have  Phoenix  and  Prothutes,  the  two  chief  ring- 
leaders of  the  revolt,  delivered  up  to  him;  and  pub- 
lished by  sound  of  trumpet,  a  general  pardon  to  all 
who  should  come  over  to  him.  But  the  Thebans,  by 
way  of  insult,  demanded  to  have  Philotas  and  Anti- 
pater  delivered  to  them;  and  invited,  in  the  same 
manner,  all  who  were  solicitous  lor  the  liberty  of 
Greece,  to  join  with  them  in  its  defence. 

Alexander,  finding  it  impossible  for  him  to  get  the 
better  of  their  obstinacy  by  oilers  of  peace,  saw  with 
grief  that  he  should  be  forced  to  employ  his  power, 
and  decide  the  affair  by  force  of  arms.  A  great  battle 
was  thereupon  fought,  in  which  the  Thebans  exerted 
themselves  with  a  bravery  arid  ardour  much  beyond 
their  strength,  for  the  enemy  exceeded  them  vastly 
in  numbers:  but  after  a  long  and  vigorous  resistance, 
such  as  survived  of  the  Macedonian  garrison  hi  the 
citadel,  coming  down  from  it  and  charging  the  The- 
bans in  the  rear,  being  thus  surrounded  on  all  sides, 
the  greatest  part  of  them  were  cut  to  pieces,  and  the 
city  was  taken  and  plundered. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  words  to  express  the 
dreadful  calamities  which  the  Thebans  suffered  on 
the  occasion.  Some  Thracians  having  pulled  down 
the  house  of  a  virtuous  lady  of  quality,  Timoclea  by- 
name, carried  off  all  her  goods  and  treasures;  and 
their  captain  having  seized  the  lady,  and  satiated  his 
brutal  lust  with  her,  afterwards  inquired  whether  she 
had  not  concealed  gold  and  silver.  Timoclt  a,  ani- 
mated by  an  ardent  desire  of  revenge,  replying  that 
she  had  hid  some,  took  him  with  herself  only  into 
her  garden,  and  showing  him  a  well,  told  him,  that 
the  instant  she  saw  the  enemy  enter  the  city,  she  her- 
self had  thrown  into  it  the  most  valuable  things  in 
her  possession.  The  officer,  overjoyed  at  what  he 
heard,  drew  near  the  well,  and  stooping  clown  to  see 
its  depth,  Timoclea,  who  was  behind,  pushing  him 
with  all  her  strength,  threw  him  into  the  well,  and 
afterwards  killed  him  with  great  stones  which  she 
threw  upon  him.  She  was  instantly  seized  by  the 
Tkracians,  and  being  bound  in  chain?,  was  carried 
before  Alexander.  The  prince  peiceived  immedi- 
ately by  her  mien,  that  she  was  a  woman  of  quality 
and  great  spirit,  for  she  followed  those  brutal  wretch- 
es with  a  haughty  air,  and  without  discovering  the 
least  astonishment  or  fear.  Alexander  asking  her 
who  she  was,  Timoclea  replied,  1  am  sister  to  Thea- 
genes,  who  fought  against  Philip  for  the  liberty  of 
Greece,  and  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  Chferonea, 
where  he  commanded.  The  prince  admiring  the 
generous  answer  of  the  lady,  and  still  more  the  action 
that  she  had  done,  gave  orders  that  she  should  have 
leave  to  retire  wherever  she  pleased  with  her  chil- 
dren. 

Alexander  then  debated  in  council,  how  to  act  with 
regard  to  Thebes.  The  Phocaeans  and  the  people  of 
Plataeae,  Thespiw,  and  Orchomenus,  who  wtre  all  in 
alliance  with  Alexander,  and  had  shared  in  his  vic- 
tory, represented  to  him  the  cruel  treatment  they  had 
met  with  from  the  Thebans,  who  had  destroyed  their 
several  cities;  and  reproached  them  with  the  -zeal 


first  expedition  of  Alexander  was  an  eminent  instance  of  that 
promptitude  and  vigour  which  he  ever  alter  displayed,  and 
which  qualified  him  to  be  the  greatest  conqueror  that  ever 
appeared  in  theanciem  wwM.  Thnt  lie  should  have  march- 
ed  in  thirteen  days  to  the  most  northern  mouth  of  the  Dan- 
ube from  Philip]. i.  and  across  the  lofty  and  rugged  ridge  of 
the  Bulkhan,  aii'l  in  three  days  from  the  summit  of  that 
range  to  the  embouchure  of  the  stream  mentioned  nbovn, 
was  an  astonishing  instance  of  that  rapidity  of  military 
movements  which  subsequently  distinguished  the  campaigns 
of  a  Caesar  and  a  Buonaparte.  The  distance  from  the  Hae- 
mus  or  Balkhan,  to  the  most  northern  branch  of  the  Danube, 
is  200  British  miles — a  distance  so  great  to  be  traversed  in 
that  short  space  of  time,  is  hardly  credible,  and  would  iiv 
duce  a  suspicion  of  exaggeration  in  the  historian  or  corrup- 
tion in  the  texl.  It  seems  impossible  that  he  should  have 
marched  nigh  70  miles  a  day.  The  isle  of  Pence  lies  off  the 
most  northern  month  at  a  small  distance:  and  is,  according 
to  Dr.  Clark,  placed  J5  minutes  too  far  north  in  all  the  mo- 
dern maps.  The  Illyrians,  whom  Alexander  reduced  on  hii 
return  from  the  hanks  of  the  Danube,  lay  to  the  N.  W.  of 
Macedonia,  and  inhabited  the  tract  now  caMed  Upper  o* 
Northern  Albania.] 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 


531 


which  they  had  always  discovered  in  favour  of  the 
Persians  against  the  Greeks,  who  held  them  in  the 
utmost  detestation;  the  proof  of  which  was,  the  oath 
they  had  all  taken  to  destroy  Thebes,  after  they  should 
have  vanquished  the  Persians. 

Cleans  one  of  the  prisoners,  being  permitted  to 
speak,  endeavoured  ar  excuse,  in  some  measure,  the 
revolt  of  the  Thebans;  a  fault  which,  in  his  opinion, 
should  be  imputed  to  a  rash  and  credulous  itnpru- 
d<  nre,  ra;ht-r  than  to  depravity  of  will  and  declared 
perfidy.  He  demonstrated,  that  his  countrymen, 
upon  a  false  report  of  Alexander's  death,  which  they 
had  too  eagerly  credited,  had  indeed  broke  into 
rebellion,  net  sgainst  the  king,  but  against  his  suc- 
cessors; that  whit  crimes  soever  they  might  have 
committed,  they  had  been  punished  for  them  with 
the  utmost  severity,  by  the  dreadful  calamity  which 
had  befallen  theii  city:  that  there  now  remained  in  it 
none  but  women,  children,  and  old  men,  from  whom 
nothing  was  to  be  feared;  and  who  were  so  much 
the  greater  objects  of  compassion,  as  they  had  been 
no  ways  concerned  in  the  revolt.  He  concluded 
with  reminding  Alexander,  that  Thebes,  which  had 
given  birth  to  so  many  gods  and  heroes,  several  of 
whom  were  that  king's  ancestors,  had  also  been  the 
cradle  of  his  father  Philip's  rising  glory,  and  like  a 
second  native  country  to  him. 

These  motives,  wtiich  Cleades  urged,  were  very 
strong  and  powerful;  nevertheless,  the  anger  of  the 
conqueror  prevailed,  and  the  city  was  destroyed. 
However,  he  set  at  liberty  the  priests;  all  such  as 
had  right  of  hospitality  with  the  Macedonians;  the 
descendants  of  Pindar,  the  famous  poet,  who  had 
done  so  much  honour  to  Greece;  and  such  as  had 
opposed  the  revolt:  but  all  the  rest,  in  number  about 
30,000,  he  sold,  and  upwards  of  6000  had  been  killed 
in  battle.  The  Athenians  were  so  sensibly  afflicted 
at  the  sad  disaster  which  had  befallen  Thebes,  that 
being  about  to  solemnize  the  festival  of  the  great 
mysteries,  they  suspended  them,  upon  account  of 
tlit  ir  extreme  grief,  and  received  with  the  greatest 
1/uiiKiciitv  all  those  who  had  fled  from  the  battle  and 
the  sack  of  Thebes,  and  made  Athens  their  asylum. 

Alexander's  so  sudden  arrival  in  Greece,  had  very 
much  abated  the  haughtiness  of  the  Athenians,  and 
extinguished  Demosthenes's  vehemence  and  fire;  but 
the  ruin  of  Thebes,  which  was  still  more  sudden, 
threw  them  into  the  utmost  consternation.  They, 
therefore,  had  recourse  to  entreaties,  and  sent  a 
deputation  to  Alexander,  to  implore  his  clemency. 
DeinMthene*  was  among  the  deputies;  but  he  was 
no  sooner  arrived  at  mount  Cytheron,  than  dreading 
the  anger  of  that  prince,  he  quitted  the  embassy,  and 
returned  home. 

Immediately  Alexander  sent  to  Athens,  requiring 
the  citizens  to  deliver  up  to  him  ten  orators,  whom 
he  supposed  to  have  been  the  chief  instruments  in 
forming  the  league  which  Philip  his  father  had  de- 
feated at  Chasronea.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that 
Demosthenes  related  !o  the  people  the  fable  of  the 
wolves  and  dogs,  in  which  it  is  supposed,  "That  the 
wolves  one  day  told  the  sheep,  that  in  case  they 
desired  to  be  at  ptace  with  them,  they  must  deliver 
up  to  them  the  dogs  who  were  their  guard."  The 
application  was  easy  and  natural,  especially  with 
respect  to  the  orators,  who  were  justly  compared  to 
dogs,  whose  duty  is  to  watch,  to  bark,  and  to  fight,  in 
order  to  save  the  lives  of  the  Hock. 

In  this  extreme  difficulty  in  which  the  Athenians 
were  involved,  who  could  not  prevail  with  them- 
ielves  to  deliver  up  their  orators  to  certain  death, 
though  they  had  no  other  way  to  save  their  city, 
Demades,  whom  Alexander  had  honoured  with  his 
friendship,  offered  to  undertake  the  embassy  alone, 
and  intercede  for  them.  The  king,  whether  he  had 
satiated  his  revenge,  or  endeavoured  to  blot  out,  if 
possible,  by  some  act  of  clemency,  the  barbarous 
action  he  had  just  before  committed;  or  rather 
willing  to  remove  the  fCter»  obstacles  which  might 
retard  the  execution  cf  «.".s  g".«nd  design,  and  by  that 
means  not  leave,  during  his  absence,  the  least  ground 
or  pretence  for  murmurs,  waved  his  demand  with 
regard  to  the  delivery  of  the  orators,  and  was  paci- 


fied by  their  sending  Caridemus  into  banishment, 
who  being  a  native  ol  Orea,'  had  been  piest  nted  bv 
the  Athenians  with  the  freedom  of  their  city,  for  the 
services  he  had  done  the  republic.  He  was  sori-m- 
law  to  Chersobleptiis,  king  of  Thrace;  hati  learned 
the  art  of  war  under  Iphicrates,  and  had  himself 
frequently  commanded  the  Athenian  armies.  To 
avoid  the  persecution  of  Alexander,  he  took  refuge 
with  the  king  of  Persia. 

As  for  the  Athenians,  he  not  only  forgave  them  the 
several  injuries  he  pretended  to  have  received,  but 
expressed  a  particular  regard  for  them,  exhorting 
them  to  apply  themselves  vigorously  to  public  affairs, 
and  to  keep  a  wati  hful  eye  over  the  several  tru'i-ar- 
tions  which  might  happen;  because,  in  casi  of  his 
death,  their  city  was  to  give  laws  to  the  rest  of 
Greece.  Historians  relate,  that  many  years  after 
this  expedition,  he  was  seized  with  deep  remofse  for 
the  calamity  he  had  brought  upon  the  Thehans,  and 
that  this  made  him  behave  with  much  greater 
humanity  towards  many  other  nations. 

So  dreadful  an  example  of  severity  towards  sa 
powerful  a  city  as  Thebts,  spread  the  terror  of  hii 
arms  through  all  Greece,  and  made  all  things  give 
way  before  him.  He  summoned,  at  Corinth,  the 
assembly  of  the  several  states  and  free  cities  of 
Greece,2  to  obtain  from  them  the  same  supreme 
command  against  the  Persians  as  had  been  granted 
his  father  a  little  before  his  death.  Ko  diet  ever 
debated  on  a  more  important  subject.  It  was  the 
Western  world  deliberating  upon  the  ruin  of  the 
Fast,  and  the  methods  for  executing  a  revenge  that 
had  been  suspended  more  than  an  age.  The  assembly 
he'd  at  this  time  will  give  rise  to  events,  the  relation 
of  which  will  appear  astonishing  and  almost  in'  redi- 
ble;  and  to  revolutions  which  will  change  the  ap- 
pearance of  things  nearly  throughout  the  world. 

To  form  such  a  design  required  a  prince,  bold, 
enterprising,  and  experienced  in  war;  one  of  en- 
larged views,  who  had  acquired  a  great  name  by  his 
exploits,  was  not  to  be  intimidated  by  dangers  nor 
checked  by  obstacles;  but  above  all,  a  monarch  who 
had  a  supreme  authority  over  all  the  states  of  Gr«  <  re, 
none  of  which  singly  was  powerful  enough  to  make 
«o  arduous  an  attempt;  and  which  required,  in  order 
to  their  acting  in  concert,  to  be  subject  to  one  chief, 
who  might  give  motion  to  the  several  parts  of  that 
great  body,  by  making  them  all  concur  to  the  same 
end.  Such  a  prince  was  Alexander.  It  was  not  dif- 
ficult for  him  to  rekindle  in  the  minds  of  the  people 
their  ancient  hatred  of  the  Persians,  their  perpetual 
and  irreconcilable  enemies;  whose  destruction  they 
had  more  than  once  sworn,  and  whom  they  had 
determined  to  extirpate,  in  case  nn  opportunity 
should  ever  present  itself  for  that  purpose;  a  hatred 
which  the  intestine  feuds  of  the  Greeks  might  indeed 
have  suspended,  but  could  never  extinguish.  Th« 
immortal  retreat  of  the  10,000  Greeks,  notwith- 
standing the  vigorous  opposition  of  the  prodigious 
army  of  the  Persians;  the  terror  which  Ai;esilaus, 
with  a  handful  of  men,  had  struck  even  BS  far  as 
Susa;  showed  plainly  what  might  be  expected  from 
an  army,  composed  of  the  flower  of  the  forces  of  all 
the  cities  of  Greece  and  those  of  Macedon,  com- 
manded by  generals  and  officers  formed  under  Philip; 
and,  to  say  all  in  a  word,  led  by  Alexander.  The 
deliberations  of  the  assembly  were  therefore  very 
short,  and  that  prince  was  unanimously  appointed 
generalissimo  against  the  Persians. 

Immediately  a  great  number  of  officers  and  go»ei- 
nors  of  cities,  with  many  philosophers,  waited  upon 
Alexander,  to  congratulate  him  upon  his  election. 
He  flattered  himself,  that  Diogenes  of  Sinope,  who 
was  then  at  Corinth,  would  also  come  like  the  rest, 
and  pay  his  compliments.  This  philosopher,  who 
entertained  a  very  mean  idea  of  grandeur,  thought  it 
improper  to  congratulate  men  just  upon  their  extra- 
tion  to  any  dignity;  but  that  mankind  ought  to  wait 
till  those  persons  have  worthily  fulfilled  the  dutie* 

i  A  city  of  Euboea. 

»  Plula'rch  places  this  diet  or  assembly  here,  but  otben 
fix  it  e-arlier;  whence  Dr.  Prideaux  luppogcd  that  it  C^ 
summoned  twice. 


532 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


attached  lo  their  station.  Diogenes  therefore  did 
not  stir  out  of  his  house:  upon  which  Alexander, 
attended  bv  all  his  com  tiers,  made  him  a  visit.  The 
philosopher  was  at  that  lime  lying  down  in  the  sun; 
but  seeing  so  great  a  crowd  of  people  advancing 
towards  him,  he  sat  up,  and  fixed  his  ev<s  on  AK\- 
ander.  This  prince,  surprised  to  see  so  f.mious  a 
philosopher  reduced  to  such  extreme  poverty,  »t'ur 
saluting  him  in  the  kimlest  manner,  asked  whether 
he  wanted  any  thing?  Diogenes  replied,  "Yes,  that 
vnu  woulu  stand  a  little  out  of  my  sun-shine."  This 
answer  raised  the  contempt  am:  indignation  of  all 
the  cuurtiers;  but  the  monarch,  struck  with  the 
philosopher's  greatness  of  soul,  "Were  I  not  Alex- 
amle»  '  «avs  he,  "  I  woulJ  be  Diogenes."  A  very 
proLs;hi  sense  lies  hid  in  this  expression,  which 
•hows  perfectly  the  bent  and  disposition  of  the  heart 
of  man.  Alexander  is  sensible  that  he  is  formed  to 
po--t-s  all  things;  such  is  his  destiny,  in  which  he 
makes  his  happiness  consist:  but  then,  in  case  he 
should  not  be  able  to  compass  his  ends,  he  is  also 
sensible,  that  to  be  happy,  he  must  endeavour  to 
bring  his  mind  to  such  a  frame  as  to  want  nothing. 
In  a  word,  all  or  nothing'  presents  us  with  the  true 
image  of  Alexander  and  Diogenes.  How  great  and 
powerful  soever  that  prince  might  think  himself,  he 
could  not  on  this  occasion  deny  himself  to  be  inferior 
to  a  man,  to  whom  he  could  give,  and  from  whom 
he  could  take,  nothing. ' 

Alexander,  before  he  set  out  for  Asia,  was  de- 
termined to  consult  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  on  the 
event  of  the  war.  He  therefore  went  to  Delphi;  but 
happened  to  arrive  there  during  those  da\s  which 
are  called  unlucky,  a  season  in  which  people  were 
forbid  consulting  the  oracle;  and  accordingly  the 
priestess  refused  to  go  to  the  temple.  But  Alexan- 
der, who  could  not  bear  any  contradiction  to  his  will, 
took  In  r  forcibly  by  the  arm;  and,  as  he  was  leading 
her  to  the  temple,  she  cried  out,  "  My  son,  thou  art 
irresistible."1  This  was  all  he  desired:  and  catc.h- 
ing  at  these  words,  which  he  considered  as  spoken 
by  the  orarle,  he  set  out  for  Macedonia,  in  order  to 
make  preparations  for  his  great  expedition. 

I  shall  here  give,  in  one  view,  a  short  account  of 
those  countries  through  which  Alexander  passed,  till 
his  return  from  India. 

Alexander  sets  out  from  Macedonia,  which  is  part 
of  Turkey  in  Europe,  and  crosses  the  Hellespont,  or 
the  Straits  of  the  Dardanelles. 

He  crosses  Asia  Minor  (Natolia.)  where  he  fights 
two  battles;  the  first  at  the  passage  of  the  river  Gra- 
nicus,  and  the  second  near  the  city  of  Is-us. 

After  this  second  battle,  he  enters  Syria  and  Pales- 
tine; goes  into  Egypt,  where  he  builds  Alexandria, 
on  one  of  the  arms  of  the  Nile;  advances  as  far  as 
Libya  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Ammon;  whence  he 
returns  back,  arrives  at  Tyre,  and  from  thence 
inarches  towards  the  Euphrates. 

He  crosses  that  river,  then  the  Tigris,  and  gains 
the  celebrated  victory  of  Arbela;  possesses  himself 
of  Babylon,3  and  Ectabana,  the  chief  city  of  Media. 

From  thence  he  passes  into  Hyrcania,  to  the  sea 
which  goes  by  that  name,  otherwise  called  the  Cas- 
pian Sea;  and  enters  Parthia,  Drangiana,  and  the 
country  of  Paropamisus. 

He  afterwards  goes  into  Bactriana  and  Sogdiana; 
advances  as  far  as  the  river  laxarthes,  called  by 
Q'lintus  Curtius  the  Tanais,  the  farther  side  of  which 
is  inhabited  by  the  Scythians,  whose  country  forms 
part  of  Great  Tartary. 

Alexander,  after  having  gone  through  .various 
countries,  crosses  the  river  Indus;  enters  India  which 
lies  on  this  side  the  Ganges,  and  forms  part  of  the 
Great  Mogul's  empire,  and  advances  very  near  the 
river  Ganges,  which  he  also  intended  to"  pass,  had 
not  his  army  refused  to  follow  him.  He  therefore 
contents  himself  with  marching  to  view  the  ocean, 
and  goes  down  the  river  Indus  to  its  mouth. 


>  Homo  supra  mensuram  human*  •uprrbia;  lumens,  vulit 
aliooem.  cui  nee  dare  quidnuam  posccl,  nee  eriuere.  Seme. 
it  Bt»i'  I.  r.  c.  6. 

«  'AF/«,TS«  ,r  a  **~. 

•  The  <-jipit»l  of  Babylonia. 


From  Macedonia  to  the  Ganges,  very  near  «.• 
which  river  Alexander  marched,  is  computed  at  least 
1100  leagues. 

Add  to  this  the  various  turnings  in  Alexander's 
marches,  first,  from  the  extremity  of  Cilicia,  when; 
the  battle  of  Issus  was  fought,  to  the  temple  of 
Jupiter  Ammon  in  Libya;  and  his  returning  from 
thence  to  Tyre,  a  journey  of  300  leagues  at  l<a«t 
and  as  much  space  at  least  for  the  windings  of  his 
route  in  different  places;  we  shall  find  tli^t  Alex- 
ander, in  less  than  tight  years,  marched  his  army 
upwards  of  1700  league*,  without  including  his  rttura 
to  Babylon. 

SECTION      III. — ALEXANDER      SETS      OUT      FROM 
MACEDON    UPON   HIS    EXPEDITION    AGAINST    THE 
PERSIANS.      HE    ARRIVES     AT     H.ID.N,     AND     PAYS 
GREAT    HONOUR    TO    THE    TOMB    OF    ACHU.I.ES. 
HE     FIGHTS    THE     FIRST    BATTLE    AGAINST   THE 
PERSIANS    AT    THE    RIVER    GRANICUS,    AND    OB- 
TAINS   A    FAMOUS    VICTORY. 
ALEXANDER*  being  arrived  in  his 
kingdom,    held    a   council    with    the        A.  M.  3670 
chief  officers    of  his  army    and    the    Ant.  J.  C.  334. 
grandees  of  his  court,  on  the  expedi- 
tion   which   he    meditated    against    Persia,    and    the 
measures    to  be    t»ken  in    order  to    ensure    success. 
The  whole  assembly  was  unanimous,  except  on  one 
article.     Antipater   and    Parmt-nio    were  of  opinion, 
that  the    king,   before   he  engaged  in  an  enterprise 
which    would    necessarily    be  a  lung   one,    ought  to 
make  choice  of  a  consort  in  order  (a  secure  himself  a 
successor  to  his  throne.     But  Alexander,    who  was 
of  a   violent,  fiery    temper,  did   not  approve  of  this 
advice;  and   believed,  that  after  he  had  bten  nomi- 
nated generalissimo  of  tlie  Greeks,  and  that  his  father 
had  left  him  an  invincible  army,  it  would  be  a  shame 
for  him  to   lose  his  time  in  solemnizing  his  nnptuiU, 
and  waiting  for  the  fruils  of  it;  for  which  reason  he 
determined  to  set  out  immediately. 

Accordingly  he  offered  up  very  splendid  sacrifices 
to  the  gods,  and  caused  to  be  celebrated  at  Dia,  a 
city  of  Mact-don,  scenical  games,  that  had  been  insti- 
tuud  by  one  of  his  ancestors  in  honour  of  Jupiter 
and  the  Muses.5  This  festival  continued  nine  dart, 
agreeable  to  the  number  of  those  goddesses.  He 
had  a  tent  raised  large  enough  to  hold  a  hundred 
tables,  on  which,  consequently,  900  covers  might  b« 
laid.  To  this  feasl,  the  several  princes  of  his  family, 
all  the  ambassadors,  generals,  and  officer?,  were 
invited.  He  also  treated  his  whole  army.  It  wai 
then  he  had  the  famous  vision,  in  which  he  was 
exhorted  to  march  speedily  into  Asia,  of  which 
mention  will  be  made  in  the  sequel.8 

Before  he  set  out  on  his  expedition,  he  settled  the 
affairs  of  Macedon,  over  which  he  appointed  Anti- 
pater  as  viceroy,  with  12,000  foot,  and  nearly  tb« 
same  number  ot'  horse. 

He  also  inquired  into  the  domestic  affairs  of  hit 
friends,  giving  to  one  an  estate  in  land,  to  another  a 
village,  to  a  third  the  revenues  of  a  town,  to  a  fourth 
the  toll  of  a  harbour.  And  as  all  the  revenues  of  his 
demesnes  were  already  employed  and  exhausted  by 
his  donations,  Perdiccas  said  to  him,  "  My  lord,  what 
is  it  you  reserve  for  yourself?"  Alexander  replying, 
"Hope;"  "The  same  hope,"  says  Perdiccas,  "  ouscht 
therefore  to  satisfy  us;"  and  very  generously  refused 
to  accept  of  what  the  king  had  assigned  to  him. 

The  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  and  the  art  of 
gaining  it,  is  of  great  importance  to  a  prince.  Now 
Alexander  was  sensible  that  this  art  consists  in 
making  it  the  interest  of  every  individual  to  promote 
his  grandeur;  and  in  governing  hi*  subjects  in  such  a 
manner,  that  they  should  feel  his  power  by  no  other 
marks  than  his  bounty.  It  is  then  the  interest  of 
every  person  unites  with  that  of  the  prince.  The* 
are  one'*  own  possessions,  one's  own  happiness,  which 
we  love  in  his  person;  and  we  are  so  many  times 
attached  to  him  (and  by  as  close  ties)  as  there  are 

«  Diod.  I.  xvii.  p.  499— 503.    Arrian.  I.  i.  p.  23— 38.    Pl«t 
in  A  IP*,  p.  672,  67X    Justin.  1.  ji.  c.  5,  6. 
>  Theatrical  representations  were  to  called 
•  Joteph.  Antiq.  lib.  xi. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


533 


things  we  love  and  receive  from  him.  All  the  sequel 
of  (his  history  will  show,  thai  no  person  ever  made 
a  more  happy  use  of  this  maxim  than  Alexander,  who 
(bought  liimselt  raised  to  the  throne,  inertly  that  he 
n>i;;lu  do  pood;  and  indeed  his  liberality,  which  was 
truly  ro\al,  was  neither  satisfied  nor  exhausted  by 
the  noblest  acts  of  beneficence. 

Alexander,  after  having  completely  settled  affairs 
in  Macedonia,  and  used  all  the  precautions  imagina- 
ble, to  prevent  any  troubles  from  arising  in  it  du;ing 
his  absence,  set  out  for  Asia  in  the  beginning  of  the 
spring.  His  army  consisted  of  little  more  than  30,- 
000  loot  and  4  or  5000  horse;  but  then  they  were  all 
brave  men;  were  will  disciplined,  and  inured  to  fa- 
tigues; had  made  several  campaigns  under  Philip; 
in:!  were  each  of  them,  in  case  of  necessity,  capable 
of  commanding.1  Mo-.t  of  the  officers  were  near 
threescore  year*  of  age;  and  when  they  were  either 
assembled,  or  drawn  up  at  the  head  of  a  camp,  they 
had  the  air  of  a  venerable  senate.*  Farmenio  com- 
manded the  inlantry.  Phi  lotas,  his  son,  had  1,800 
lioi>»s  under  him;  and  Callus,  the  ton  of  Harpalus, 
lire  -ame  number  of  Thessalian  cavalry.  The  rest  of 
the  horse,  who  were  composed  of  natives  of  the  seve- 
ral slates  of  Greece,  and  amounted  to  600,  had  their 
particular  commander.  The  Thracians  and  Paeoni- 
ons,  who  were  always  in  front,  were  headed  by  Gas- 
sattiler.  Alexander  began  his  route  along  the  lake 
of  Cercina,  towards  Amphipolis;  crossed  the  river 
Strvnioii  near  its  mouth;  afterwards  the  Hebrus, and 
arrived  at  Sestu*  after  twenty  days'  inarch.  He  then 
commanded  Parmenio  to  cross  over  from  Sestus  to 
Abydos,  with  all  the  horse,  and  part  of  the  foot; 
which  he  accordingly  did  by  the  assistance  of  160 
galleys  and  several  flat-bottomed  vessels.  As  for  Alex- 
ander, he  went  from  Kleontum  to  the  port  of  the 
Achaians,  himself  steering  hi"  own  galley;  and  being 
got  t.)  the  middle  of  the  Hellespont,  he  sacrificed  a 
bull  to  iS'eptune  and  the  Nereides,  and  made  liba- 
tion* in  the  sea  from  a  golden  cup.  It  is  also  related, 
that  after  having  thrown  a  javelin  at  the  land,  as  if 
thereby  to  take  possession  of  it,  he  landed  the  first  in 
Asia!  and  leaping  from  the  ship,  completely  armed, 
and  in  the  highest  transports  of  jov,  he  erected  altars 
on  the  shore  to  Jupiter,  to  Minerva,  and  to  Hercules, 
for  having  favoured  him  with  so  propitious  a  descent. 
He  had  done  the  same  at  his  leaving  I-'. u rope.  He 
depended  so  entirely  on  the  happy  success  of  his 
arm",  .^nd  the  rich  spoils  he  should  find  in  Asia,  that 
he  hnd  made  very  little  provision  for  so  great  an  ex- 
pedition; persuaded  that  war,  when  carried  on  suc- 
c< •->;!. My,  would  supply  all  things  necessary  for  war. 
He  had  but  seventy  talents*  in  money  to  pay  his  ar- 
my, and  only  a  month's  provision.  1  before  observed, 
that  on  leaving  Macedon  he  had  divided  his  patrimo- 
ny among  his  generals  and  officers;  and  a  circum- 
stance of  still  greater  importance  is,  that  he  had  in- 
spired his  soldiers  with  so  much  courage  and  confi- 
dence, that  they  fancied  they  marched,  not  to  preca- 
riiin*  war,  but  certain  victory. 

When  he  came  within  a  short  distance  of  the  city 
of  Lampsacu",*  which  he  had  determined  to  destroy 
in  order  to  punish  the  rebellion  of  its  inhabitants,  he 
saw  Anaximenes,  a  native  of  that  place,  coming  to 
him.  This  man,  who  was  a  famous  historian,  had  been 
very  intimate  with  Philip  his  father;  and  Alexander 
tiim-i  li'  had  a  great  esteem  for  him,  having  been  his 
pupil.  The  king,  suspecting  the  business  he  was 
come  upon,  to  be  beforehand  with  him,  swore,  in  ex- 
presa  terms,  that  he  would  never  grant  his  request. 
"The  favour  I  have  to  desire  of  you,"  says  Anaxi- 
mcne«,  "  is.  that  you  would  destroy  Lampsacus."  By 
this  wifty  evasion,  the  historian  saved  hi«  country. 

From  thence  Alexander  arriwi  at  Illion,  where 
he  paid  great  honours  to  the  names  of  Achilles,  and 
caused  games  to  be  celebrated  round  his  tomb.  He 


•  Ut  non  tain  militcs,  quirr-  magistros  militia:  electo*  pu 
tares.    Justin.  I.  xi.  c.  6. 

*  L't,  <i  principia  ramorum  <~«rnore«,  tenat'jm  tc  alicujus 
prisrae  rcip.  videre  d'cere*.     Id. 

I  Thuse  were  all  Macedonian* 

Seventy  thousand  crown*. 
»  Val.  Max.  1.  vii.  c.  3 


admired  and  envied  the  dou  tie  felicity  of  that  re 
nowned  Grecian,  in  having  found,  during  his  lilt  time, 
a  faithful  friend  in  Patroclus;  nnd,  after  his  dentil,  n 
herald,  worthy  the  greatness  of  his  exploits,  in  Ho- 
mer. And,  indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  Iliad,* 
the  name  of  Achilles  would  have  perished  in  the  same 
grave  with  his  body. 

At  last  Alexander  arrived  on  the  banks  of  tl.e  Gra- 
nicus.7  a  river  of  Phrygia.  The  satrapce,  or  deputy- 
lieutenants,  waited  his  coming  on  the  other  side  of 
it,  firmly  resolved  to  dispute  the  passage  with  him. 
Their  army  consisted  of  100,000  foot,  and  upwards  of 
10,000  horse.8  Memnon,  who  was  a  Rhodian.  a:id 
commanded  under  Darius  all  the  coast  of  Asia,  had 
advised  the  generals  D^t  to  venture  a  battle;  but  to 
lay  wa-te  the  plains,  and  even  the  cities,  thereby  to 
starve  Alexander's  army,  and  oblige  him  to  rtturn 
back  into  Kurope.  Memnon  wa«  the  most  able  of  all 
Darius's  generals,  and  had  been  the  principal  agent  in 
his  victories.  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  whnt  we 
ought  to  admire  most  in  him;  whether  his  great  win 
dom  in  council,  his  courage  and  capacity  in  the  lit  M, 
or  his  zeal  and  attachment  to  his  sovereign.  The 
council  he  gave  on  this  occasion  was  excellent,  \\\x-r 
we  consider  that  his  enemy  was  fiery  and  impetuous, 
had  neither  town,  magazine,  nor  place  of  retreat'  ilia- 
he  was  entering  a  country  to  which  he  was  absolutely 
a  stranger,  inhabited  by  enemies;  that  delays  alone 
would  weaken  and  ruin  him;  and  that  his  only  hope 
and  resource  lay  in  gaining  a  battle  immediately.  I5ut 
A rsites,  satrap  of  Phrygia,  opposed  the  opinion  of 
Memnon,  and  protested  he  would  never  sutler  'he 
Grecians  to  make  such  havoc  in  the  territories  he  go- 
verned. This  bad  advice  prevailed  over  the  judicious 
counsel  of  the  foreigner  (Memnon,)  whom  the  Per- 
sians, to  their  great  prejudice,  suspected  of  a  design 
to  protract  the  war,  and  by  that  means  make  himself 
necessary  to  Darius. 

Alexander,  in  the  mean  time,  marched  on  at  the 
head  of  his  heavy-armed  infantry,  drawn  up  in  t««o 
lints,  with  the  cavalry  in  the  wings:  the  baggage  nr- 
lowed  in  the  rear.  Being  arrived  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Granicus,  Parmenio,  advised  him  to  encamp  there 
in  battle  array,  in  order  that  his  forces  might  have 
time  to  rest  themselves,  and  not  to  pass  the  river  till 
next  morning,  because  the  enemy  would  then  be  less 
able  to  prevent  him.  He  added,  that  it  would  ht  tof 
dangerous  to  attempt  crossing  a  river  in  *ight  at  an 
enemy,  especially  as  that  before  them  was  deep,  and 
its  banks  very  craggy:  so  that  the  Persian  cavalry, 
who  waited  their  coming  in  battle  array  on  the  other 
side,  might  easily  defeat  them  before  they  were  drawn 
up:  that  besides  the  loss  which  would  be  sustained 
on  this  occasion,  this  enterprise,  in  case  it  should 
prove  unsuccessful,  would  be  of  dangerous  conse- 
quence to  their  future  affairs;  the  fame  and  glory  of 
arms  depending  on  the  first  actions. 

However,  these  reasons  were  not  able  to  make  the 
least  impression  on  Alexander,  who  declared,  thnt  it 
would  be  a  shame,  should  he,  after  crossing  the  Hel- 
lespont, suffer  his  progress  to  be  retarded  by  a  rivu- 
let, for  so  he  called  the  Grnnicus  out  of  contempt: 
that  they  ought  to  take  advantage  of  the  terror, 
which  the  suddenness  of  his  arrival,  and  the  boldness 

•  Cfim  in  Sigwond  Atrhiliiii  tumulum  constitigsct  •  O  for- 
lunate,  inquit,  adolescfn?,  cgui  lust  virtutU  Homcrurn  prB- 
wneiii  invrneris!     Et  vt-re.     Nam,  nisi  Ilias  ilia  exiitiscet, 
idem,  tumulus,  qui    corpus   CJUK   contcxcrat,  ctinm   nomen 
obruisset.     Cie.  pro  Arch.  n.  24, 

'  [The  Granicm  is  a  narrow,  deep,  nnd  rapid  si  ream,  ori- 
jjinatins  in  the  northern  slope  of  the  range  of  Ida.  anil  run- 
ning n  N  E.  cour-e  ol  •lO  ireojrrnphicnl  miles  to  the  Propon* 
tiit.  Its  western  banks  are  reported  liy  travellers  In  be  high, 
(steep,  and  rushed.  Ii*  modern  name  \»  the  Oo»trola,  nn.l 
not  BouMMijrliirli,  as  affirmed  in  the  Ancient  Universal  His- 
tory, vol.  5th.  This  latter  appellation  beliins*  to  tl-f  Rliyn- 
dar'us.a  river  that  falls  inlo  ihe  Proponlit.  80  BritUl  mile* 
ea<t  of  the  Granirun—  the  JF ffpin  runnms  between  The 
Gr.iniru-i  lay  35  British  mile*  to  the  cast  ol  Lampsncui  in 
direct  dmnnoo.J 

•  According  in  JnMin,  their  army  conniiied  of  (WU100  fool, 
whereas  Arrinn  declares  there  were  no  more  20  (100.     Both 
the^e  aci'ounuare  improbable,  and  there   i«  doubtlen  cone 
fault  in  the  text,  and  therefore  t  follow  Diudorus  Siculus. 

ZV2 


534 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 


of  his  attempt,  had  spread  among  the  Persians:  and 
answer  the  high  opinion  the  world  conceived  of  his 
courage,  and  the  valour  of  the  Macedonians.  The 
enemy's  horse,  which  was  very  numerous,  lined  the 
whole  shore,  and  formed  an  extended  front,  in  order 
to  oppose  Alexander,  wherever  he  should  endeavour 
to  pass:  and  the  foot,  which  consisted  chiefly  of  Greeks 
in  Darius's  service,  was  posted  behind,  upon  an  easy 
ascent. 

The  two  armies  continued  a  long  time  in  sight  of 
oach  other,  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  as  if  dreading 
the  event.  The  Persians  waited  till  the  Macedonians 
should  enter  the  river,  in  order  to  charge  them  to 
advantage  upon  their  landing:  and  the  latter  seemed 
to  be  making  choice  of  a  place  proper  fur  crossing, 
and  observing  the  disposition  of  their  enemies.  Up- 
on this,  Alexander,  having  ordered  his  horse  to  be 
brought,  commanded  the  noblemen  of  the  court  to 
follow  him,  and  behave  gallantly.  He  himself  com- 
manded the  right  wing,  and  Parmenio  the  left.  The 
ki;<g  first  caused  a  strong  detachment  to  march  into 
the  river,  himself  following  it  with  the  rest  of  the 
forces.  He  made  Parmenio  advance  afterwards 
with  the  left  wing.  He  himself  led  on  the  right 
wing  into  the  river,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  troops; 
the  trumpets  sounding,  and  the  whole  army  raising 
cries  ol  joy. 

The  Persians  seeing  this  detachment  advance  for- 
ward, began  to  let  (ly  their  arrows,  ami  march  to  a 
place  where  the  declivity  was  not  so  great,  in  order 
to  keep  the  Macedonians  from  landing.  And  now 
the  horse  engaged  with  great  fury;  one  part  endea- 
vouring to  land,  and  the  other  striving  to  prevent 
them.  The -Macedonians,  whose  cavalry  was  far  in- 
ferior in  number,  besides  the  disadvantage  of  the 
ground,  were  wounded  with  the  darts  that  were  shot 
trom  the  eminence ;  not  to  mention  that  the  flower  of 
the  Persian  horse  were  drawn  together  in  this  place; 
ami  that  Memnon,  in  concert  with  his  sons,  command- 
ed ihere.  The  Macedonians  therefore  at  first  gave 
ground,  after  having  lost  the  first  ranks,  which  made 
a  vigorous  defence.  Alexander,  who  had  followed 
them  close,  and  reinforced  them  with  his  best  troops, 
puts  himself  at  their  head,  animates  them  by  his  pre- 
sence, pushes  the  Persians,  and  routs  them;  upon 
which  the  whole  army  follow  after,  cross  the  river, 
and  attack  the  enemy  on  all  sides. 

Alexander  first  charged  the  thickest  part  of  the  en- 
emy's horse,  in  which  the  generals  fought.  He  him- 
self was  particularly  conspicuous  by  his  shield,  and 
the  plume  of  feathers  that  over-shadowed  his  helmet, 
on  the  two  sides  of  which  there  rose  two  wings,  as  it 
were,  of  a  great  length,  and  so  vastly  white,  that  they 
dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  beholder.  The  charge  was 
very  furious  about  his  person:  and  though  only  horse 
engaged,  they  fought  like  foot,  man  to  man,  without 
giving  way  On  either  side:  every  one  striving  to  re- 
pulse his  adversary,  and  gain  ground  of  him.  Spi- 
throbates,  lieutenant-governor  of  Ionia,  and  son-in- 
law  to  Darius,  distinguished  himself  above  the  rest  of 
the  generals  by  his  superior  bravery.  Being  sur- 
rounded by  forty  Persian  lords,  all  of  them  his  rela- 
tions, of  experienced  valour,  and  who  never  moved 
from  his  side,  he  carried  terror  wherever  he  moved. 
Alexander  observing  in  how  gallant  a  manner  he  sig- 
nalized himself,  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  ad- 
vanced towards  him.  Immediately  they  engage,  and 
each  having  thrown  a  javelin,  wounded  the  other, 
though  but  slightly.  Spithrobates  falls  furiously, 
sword  in  hand,  upon  Alexander,  who  being  prepared 
for  him,  thrusts  his  pike  into  his  face,  and  lays  him 
dead  at  his  feet.  At  that  very  moment.  Rosaces,  bro- 
ther to  that  nobleman, charging  him  on  the  side,  sjives 
him  so  furious  a  blow  on  the  head  with  his  battle-axe, 
that  he  beat  oil'  his  plume,  but  went  no  deeper  than 
the  hair.  As  he  was  going  to  repeat  his  blow  on  the 
head,  which  now  appeared  through  his  fractured  hel- 
met, Olitus  cut  off  Rosaces's  hand  wii  h  one  stroke  of 
his  scimitar,  and  by  that  mean*  saves  his  sovereign's 
life.  Thfi  danger  to  which  Alexander  had  been  ex- 
posed, greatly  animated  the  courage  of  his  soldiers, 
who  now  perform  wonders.  The  Persians  in  the  cen- 
tre o*  the  cavalry  upon  whom  the  light-armed  troops, 


who  had  been  posted  in  the  intervals  of  the  norse 
poured  a  perpetual  discharge  of  darts,  being  uuablt 
to  sustain  any  longer  the  attack  of  the  Macedonians, 
who  struck  them  all  in  the/ace,  began  to  give  ground 
and  the  two  wings  were  immediately  broke  and  put 
to  flight.  Alexander  did  not  pursue  them  long,  but 
turned  about  immediately  to  charge  the  foot. 

These,  says  the  historian,  at  first  stood  their  ground, 
which  was  owing  to  the  surprise  they  were  seiz-.  d  with, 
rather  than  bravery.  But  when  they  saw  themselveg 
attacked  at  the  same  time  by  the  cavalry  and  the  Ma- 
cedonian phalanx,  which  had  crossed  the  river,  and 
that  the  battalions  were  now  engaged;  those  of  the 
Persians  did  not  make  either  a  long  or  a  vigorous  re- 
sistance, and  were  soon  put  to  flight,  the  Grecian  in- 
fantry in  Darius's  service  excepted.  This  body  of 
foot,  retiring  to  a  hill,  demanded  a  promise  from 
Alexander  to  let  them  march  away  unmolested;  but 
following  the  dictates  of  his  wrath,  rather  than  those 
of  reason,  he  rushed  into  the  midst  of  this  body  of 
foot,  and  presently  lost  his  horse  (not  Bucephalus,) 
who  was  killed  with  the  thrust  of  a  sword.  The  bat- 
tle was  so  hot  around  him,  that  most  of  the  Macedo- 
nians who  lost  their  lives  on  this  occasion,  fell  here; 
for  they  fought  against  a  body  of  men  who  were  well 
disciplined,  had  been  inured  to  war,  and  fought  in 
despair.  They  were  all  cut  to  pieces,  2000  excepted, 
who  were  taken  prisoners. 

A  great  number  of  the  chief  Persian  commanders 
lay  dead  on  the  spot.  Arsites  fled  into  Phrygia,  where 
it  is  said  he  laid  violent  hands  upon  himselt,  through 
regret  that  he  had  been  the  cause  that  the  battle  was 
fought.  It  would  have  been  more  glorious  for  him 
had  he  died  in  the  field.  Twenty  thousand  foot,  and 
2500  horse  were  killed  in  this  engagement,  on  the 
side  of  the  barbarians;  and  on  that  of  the  Macedoni- 
ans, twenty-five  of  the  royal  horse  were  killed  at  the 
first  attack.  Alexander  ordered  Lysippus  to  make 
their  statues  in  brass,  all  of  which  were  set  up  in  a 
city  of  Macedon  called  Dunn,  from  whence  they  were 
many  years  after  carried  to  Rome  by  Q.  Metellus. 
About  threescore  of  the  other  horse  were  killed,  and 
near  thirty  foot,  who,  the  next  day,  were  all  laid, 
with  their  arms  and  equipage  in  one  grave;  and  the 
king  granted  an  exemption  to  their  fathers  and  chil- 
dren from  every  kind  of  tribute  and  service. 

He  also  took  the  utmost  care  of  the  wounded,  visit- 
ed them,  and  saw  their  wounds  dressed.  He  inquired 
very  particularly  into  their  ad  ventures,  and  permitted 
every  one  of  them  to  relate  his  actions  in  the  battle, 
and  boast  his  bravery.  A  prince  gains  many  advan- 
tages by  such  a  familiarity  and  condescension.  He 
also  granted  the  rites  of  sepulture  to  the  grandees  of 
Persia,  and  did  not  even  refuse  it  to  such  Greeks  as 
died  in  the  Persian  service;  but  all  those  whom  he 
took  prisoners,  he  laid  in  chains,  and  sent  them  to 
work  as  slaves  in  Macedonia,  for  having  fought  under 
the  barbarian  standards  against  their  country,  con- 
trary to  the  express  prohibition  made  by  Greece  up- 
on that  head. 

Alexander-made  it  his  duty  and  pleasure  to  share 
the  honour  of  his  victory  with  the  Greeks;  and  sent 
particularly  to  the  Athenians  300  shields,  being  part 
of  the  plunder  taken  from  the  enemy,  and  caused  the 
glorious  inscription  following  to  be  inscribed  on  the 
rest  of  the  spoils:  A'cximdtr,  son  of  Philip, with  th» 
Greeks,  (the  Lacedamonian.3  excepted,)  gnined  tliest 
spoils  from  the  Barbarians  who  inhabit  Jlsin.  A 
conduct  of  this  kind  evinces  a  very  uncommon  and 
amiable  greatness  of  soul  in  a  conqueror,  who  gene- 
rally cannot,  without  great  reluctance,  admit  others 
to  share  in  his  glory.  The  greatest  part  of  the  gold 
and  silver  plate,  the  purple  carpets,  and  other  arti- 
cles of  Persian  luxury,  he  sent  to  his  mother. 

SECTION  IV.— ALEXANDER  CONQUERS  TUB 
GREATEST  PART  OF  ASIA  MINOR.  HE  IS  SI)t/.ED 
WITH  A  DANGEROUS  DISEASE,  OCCASIONED  11V 
BATHING  IN  THE  RIVER  CYDMTS.  PH1LH'  TUB 
PHYSICIAN  CURES  HIM  IN  A  FEW  DAYS.  ALEX- 
ANDER PASSES  THE  DEFILES  OF  CILICIA.  DARI 
US  ADVANCES  AT  THE  SAME  TIME.  THE  HOL1 
AND  FREE  ANSWER  OF  CARIDEIUUS  T^  THY  I 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


535 


PRINCE,   WHICH   COST  HIM   HIS   LIFE.       DESCRIP- 
TION  OF    DARIUS'S  MARCH. 

THE  success  of  the  battle  of  the 
A.  M.  3G70  Granicus,1  had  all  the  happy  conse- 
Ant.  J.  C.  334  ouenc«-i:  hat  could  naturally  be  ex- 
pected from  it.  Sardis,*  which  wax 
in  a  manner  the  bulwark  of  the  barbarian  empire  on 
the  side  next  the  sea,  surrendered  to  Alexander,  who 
gave  the  citizens  their  liberty,  and  permitted  them 
to  live  after  their  own  laws.  Four  days  al'ter  he 
arrived  at  Ephesus,  earning:  with  him  those  who 
had  been  banished  from  thence  for  being  his  adhe- 
rents, and  restored  its  popular  form  of  government. 
He  assigned  to  the  temple  of  Diana  the  tributes 
which  were  paid  to  the  kings  of  Persia.  He  offered  a 
great  number  of  sacrifices  to  that  goddess,  solemnized 
Tier  mysteries  with  the  utmost  pomp,  and  conducted 
the  ceremony  with  his  whole  arinv  drawn  up  in  bat- 
tle array.  The  Ephesians  had  begun  to  rebuild  the 
temple  ol  Diana,  which  had  been  burned  the  very 
night  of  Alexander's  birth,  as  was  before  observed, 
and  the  work  was  now  very  far  advanced.  Dino- 
crates,  a  famous  architect,  who  superintended  the 
building  of  the  temple,  was  afterwards  employed  by 
this  king  to  build  Alexandria  in  Flsrvpt.  Alexander 
offered  to  nay  the  Ephesians,  all  the  expenses  they 
had  already  been  at,  and  to  furnish  the  remainder, 
provided  they  would  inscribe  the  temple  with  his 
name  alone;  for  he  was  fond,  or  rather  insatiable,  of 
every  kind  of  gl>Ty.  The  inhabitants  of  Ephesus, 
not  being:  willing  to  consent  to  it,  and  nevertheless 
afraid  to  refuse  him  that  honour  openly,  had  recourse 
to  an  artful  (lattery,  to  enable  them  to  evade  this  re- 
que>t.  They  told  him  that  it  was  inconsistent  for 
one  god  to  erect  monuments  to  another.  Before  he 
left  Kphesus,  the  deputies  of  the  cities  of  Tralles 
and  Magnesia  waited  upon  him  with  the  keys  of  those 
places. 

He  afterwards  marched  to  Miletu?,8  which  city, 
flattered  with  the  hopes  of  a  sudden  and  powerful  sup- 
port, shut  tin  ir  gntes  against  him,  and,  indeed,  the 
IVrsian  rleet,  which  was  verv  considerable,  made  a 
show  as  if  it  would  succour  that  city:  but  after  ha- 
ving made  several  fruitless  attempts"  to  engage  that 
of  the  enemy,  it  was  forced  to  sail  away.  •HfMon 
hud  s-hnt  himself  up  in  this  fostre-s,  with  a  great  num- 
ber of  his  soldiers  who  had  escaped  the  battle,  and 
n  as  determined  to  make  a  good  defence.  Alexander, 
who  would  not  lose  a  moment's  time,  attacked  it,  and 
planting  scaling-ladders  on  all  sides,  the  scalado  was 
carried  on  with  no  less  intrepidity,  though  Alexander 
sent  fresh  troops  to  relieve  one  another  without  the 
ta«t  intermi««.ion;  and  this  lasted  several  days.  At 
•ait,  finding  his  *oliiiers  were  every  where  repulsed, 
and  that  the  citv  was  provided  with  every  requisite  for 
a  long  siege,  he  planted  all  his  machines  against  it, 
made  a  great  number  of  breaches,  and  whenever  these 
were  attacked,  a  new  scalado  was  attempted.  The 
besieged,  alter  sustaining:  all  these  efforts  with  pro- 
digi'ius  bravery,  capitulated,  for  fear  of  beinsr  taken 
by  storm.  Alexander  treated  all  the  Melisians  with 
the  utmost  humanity,  and  sold  all  the  foreigners  who 
were  found  in  it.  The  historians  do  not  make  any 
mention  of  Memnon,  but  we  may  reasonably  suppose 
thit  he  marched  out  with  the  garrison. 

Alexander,  seeing  that  the  enemy's  fleet  had  sailed 
•way.  resolved  to  destroy  his  own,  the  expense  of  it 
being  too  great,  not  to  mention  that  he  wanted 

•  DioH.  I.  xvii  p.  503—511.  Arrian  1.  i.  p.  ?0.— 5!>.  pt  1. 
U.  p.  GO— M.  Plut.  in  Alex  p.  f,7:!.  iiT-4.  Q.  Curt.  1.  iii.  r. 
]— :f  Justin.  I.  xi  c.  7.  R  Strab.  1.  xiv.  p.lUO.  J-vlin  c.  \\. 
»  l:i>  :i!..,ut  l-.1l  ^i-o^raphiral.  or  13^  British  miles, 
hi  direct  distance.  S  K.  iif  llie  Granicus  ;  to  which  place  Al- 
exander march, -d  directk  after  his  victory.  From  lhi«  a^-ain 
lie  man-lied  S  \V.  to  Ephesus,  about  li.'!  Roman  miles  in  di- 
rett  i!i-tancr.] 

»  [Miletus  lay  5?  R  mile*  S.  E.  of  Ephesus.  in  direct  dis- 
tance, on  the  Lnlmiun  Gulf,  now  supposed  lobe  the  Lake  of 
Ufa  Ua<hee  ;  the  low  grounds  between  that  lake  and  the  s.-u. 
be'nff  consid 'red  a*  alluvial  matter,  formed  by  the  inunda- 
t-ons  ofthe  M,tander  At  any  ra'o.  the  I.almtan  Gulf  u  no 
longer  in  beiof  ;  and  the  ruins'  of  Miletus  have  not  yet  lx.cn 
to  clearly  recognised,  as  to  fix  with  precision  the  exact  cite 
•filial  ome  celebrated  city.] 


money  for  things  of  greater  importance.  Some 
historians  are  even  of  opinion,  that  he  was  upon  the 
point  of  coming  to  a  battle  with  Darius,  which  w::j 
to  determine  the  fate  of  the  two  empires,  he  wai 
resolved  to  deprive  his  soldiers  of  all  hopes  of  re- 
treat, and  to  leave  them  no  other  resource  than  that 
ol  victory.  He  therefore  retained  such  vessels  only 
ol  his  fleet,  as  were  absolutely  necessary  for  transport 
ing  the  military  engines,  and  a  small  number  of  other 
galleys. 

After  possessing  himself  of  Miletus,  he  marched 
into  Cana,  in  order  to  lay  siege  to  Halicarnassus.* 
The  city  was  of  most  difficult  access  from  its  happy 
situation,  and  had  been  strongly  fortified.  Besides, 
Mernnon,  the  ablest  as  well  as  the  most  valiant  of  all 
Darius's  commanders,  had  thrown  himself  into  it  with 
a  body  of  choice  soldiers,  with  design  to  signalize  his 
courage  and  fidelity  to  his  sovereign.  He  accord- 
ingly made  a  very  noble  deltnce,  in  which  ne  was 
seconded  by  Ephialtes,  another  general  of  great 
merit.  Whatever  could  be  expected  from  the  most 
intrepid  bravery,  and  the  most  consummate  knowl 
edge  in  the  science  of  war,  was  conspicuous  on  both 
side*  on  this  occasion.  After  the  besiegers  had,  with 
incredible  labour,  filled  up  part  of  the  ditches,  and 
brought  their  engines  near  the  walls,  they  had  the 
grief  to  see  their  works  demolished  in  an  iiistant,  and 
their  engines  set  on  fire,  by  the  frequent  vigorous 
sallies  of  the  besieged.  After  l>eating  down  part  of 
the  wall  with  their  batteriii^rnms,  they  wire  aston- 
ished to  see  a  new  one  beh,.)J  it;  which  was  so  sud- 
denly built  up,  that  it  seemed  to  rise  out  of  the 
ground.  The  attack  of  these  walls,  which  were  built 
in  a  semi-circular  form,  destroyed  a  prodigious  num- 
ber of  men,  because  the  besieged,  from  the  top  of  the 
towers  that  were  raised  on  the  several  sides,  took  the 
enemy  in  flank.  It  was  evidently  seen  at  this  siege, 
that  the  strongest  fortifications  of  a  city  are  the 
valour  and  courage  of  its  defenders.  The  r>i. 
long,  and  attended  with  such  surprising  difficulties 
as  would  have  discouraged  any  warrior  but  an  Alex- 
ander; yet  the  view  of  danger  served  only  to  animate 
his  troops,  and  their  patience  was  at  last  successful. 
Memiioii,  finding  it  impossible  for  him  to  hold  out 
any  longer,  was  forced  to  abandon  the  city.  As  the 
sea  was  open  to  him,  after  having  put  a  strong  garri- 
son into  the  citadel,  which  was  well  stored  with 
provisions,  he  took  with  him  the  surviving  inhabi- 
tants, with  all  their  riches,  and  conveyed  them  into 
the  island  of  Cos,  which  was  not  far  from  Halicar- 
nassus. Alexander  did  not  think  proper  to  besiege 
the  citadel,  it  being  of  little  importance  after  the  city 
was  destroyed,  which  he  demolished  to  the  very 
foundations.  He  thought  it  sufficient  to  encompass 
it  with  strong  walls,  and  left  some  good  troops  in  the 
country. 

After  the  death  of  Artemisia,  queen  of  Caria, 
Idrieus  her  brother  reigned  in  her  stead.  The  scep- 
tre, according  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  devolved 
upon  Ada,  sister  and  wife  of  Idrieus;  but  she  was 
dethroned  by  Pexodorus.  whose  successor,  by  Da- 
Vius's  command,  was  Orontobatcs,  his  son-in-law. 
Ada.  however,  was  still  possessed  of  a  fortress  called 
Altndae,  the  keys  of  which  she  had  curried  to  Alex- 
ander, the  instant  she  heard  of  his  arrival  in  Caria, 
and  had  adopted  him  for  her  son.  The  king  was  so 
far  from  contemning  this  honour,  that  he  left  her  the 
quiet  possession  of  her  own  city;  and  after  having 
taken  Halicarnassus,  as  he  bv  that  means  was  u. aster 


*  [Halirarnassus  lav  40  British  mile*  south-east  of  Mile- 
tus, in  direct  distance;  nothing  but  a  mass  of  ruins  attest! 
its  former  grandeur  and  ancient  cite.  It  lay  between  the 
Ceramic  and  Jusinn  bays,  and  was  famous  for  the  mately 
mausoleum,  or  tomb,  erected  in  honour  of  her  liiuJtaml, 
Mau*o!u«.  by  Artemisia  his  widowed  queen.  Mnusoluj 
reigned  over  Caria.  of  which  this  city  was  the  capital.  It 
wns.  however,  still  more  honoured  in  beir>£  the  birth  plnce 
of  Herodotus,  the  father  of  history,  and  Diouysius  the  Greek 
historian  of  Rome;  but  of  whose  work  the  creator  part  tms 
been  unfortunately  lost.  The  poets  llcrsclitus  and  Calli- 
mnchuft  were  also"  natives  of  this  city.  The  peninsula  be- 
twepn  the  two  hays  formed  the  ancient  Doris  and  maritime 
Caria.  and  is  about  40  British  miles  in  length  from  west  U 
east,  and  about  15  from  norlh  to  *oulh.] 


536 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 


of  the  whole  country,  he  restored  the  government 
to  Ada. 

This  lady,1  as  a  testimony  of  the  deep  sense  she 
had  of  tne  favours  received  from  Alexander,  sent 
him  every  dav  meats  dressed  in  the  most  exquisite 
manner;  delirious  pastry  of  fall  sorts;  and  the  most 
excellent  rooks  of  every  kind.  Alexander  answered 
the  queen  on  this  occasion,  "That  all  this  train  WHS 
of  no  service  to  him,  for  that  he  was  possessed  of 
much  better  cooks,  whom  Leonidas 2  his  governor 
had  given  him;  one  of  whom  prepared  him  a  good 
diniu-r,  and  that  was,  walking  a  great  deal  in  the 
morning  very  early;  and  the  other  prepared  him  an 
excellent  supper,  and  that  was,  dining  very  mode- 
rately. 

Several  kings  of  Asia  Minor  submitted  voluntarily 
to  Alexander.  Mithridatts,  king  of  Pontus,  was  one 
of  these,  who  afterwards  adhered  to  this  prince,  and 
followed  him  in  his  expeditions.  He  was  son  to 
Aricbananes,  governor  ot  Phrygia,  and  king  of  Pon- 
tus,  of  i\  horn  mention  hns  been  made  elsewhere.  He 
is  computed  to  be  ihe  sixth  king  from  Artabazus,3 
who  is  considered  as  the  founder  of  that  kingdom, 
of  which  he  was  put  in  possession  by  Darius,  son  of 
Hystaspes,  his  father.  The  famous  iMithndates,  who 
so  long  employed  the  Roman  armies,  Has  one  of  his 
successors. 

Alexander,  before  he  went  into  winter  quarters, 
permitted  all  such  of  his  soldiers  as  had  married  that 
year  to  return  into  Macedonia,  there  to  spend  their 
winter  with  their  wives,  upon  condition  that  they 
would  return  in  the  spring.  He  appointed  three 
officers  to  lead  them  thither  and  to  bring  them  back. 
This  agrees  exactly  with  the  law  of  Moses;*  and,  as 
we  do  not  find  that  this  law  or  custom  was  used  by 
any  other  nation,  it  is  very  probable  that  Aristotle 
had  learned  it  from  some  Jew,  with  whom  he  became 
acquainted  in  Ana;  and  that  approving  it  as  a  very 
wise  and  just  custom,  he  therefore  had  recommended 
it  to  his  pupil,  who  remembered  it  on  this  occasion. 
The  next  year  Alexander  began 

A,  M.  3671.  the  campaign  very  early.  He  had 
Ant.  J.  C.  333.  debated,  whether  he  should  march 
directly  against  Darius,  or  should 
first  subdue  the  rest  of  the  maritime  provinces.  The 
latter  plan  appeared  the  safest,  since  he  thereby 
would  not  be  molested  by  such  nations  as  he  should 
leave  behind  him.  His  progress  was  a  little  inter- 
rupted at  first.5  .Near  I  Imselis,  a  city  situated  be- 
tween Lydia  and  Pamphylia,  is  a  detile  along  the 
sea-shore,  which  is  always  dry  at  low  water,  so  that 
travellers  may  pass  it  at  that  time;  but  when  the  sea 
rises,  it  is  all  under  water.  As  it  was  now  winter, 
Alexander,  whom  nothing  could  daunt,  was  desirous 
of  passing  it  before  the  waters  fell.  His  forces  were, 
therefore,  obliged  to  march  a  whole  day  in  the  water, 
which  came  up  to  their  waist.  Some  historians, 
purely  to  embellish  this  incident,  relate  that  the  sea, 
by  the  Divine  command,  had  submitted  spontaneously 
to  Alexander,  and  had  opened  a  way  to  him,  contrary 
to  the  usual  course  of  nature;  among  these  writers  fs 
Quintus  Curtius.  It  is  surprising  that  Josephus,  the 
historian,  to  weaken  the  authority  of  the  miracle  of 
the  Jews  passing  through  the  Red  Sea  on  dry  land, 
should  have  cited  this  circumstance  by  way  of  ex- 
ample, the  falsity  of  which  Alexander  himself  had 
refuted.  For  Plutarch  relates,  that  he  merely  wrote 
in  one  of  his  letters,  "That  when  lie  left  the  city  of 
Phaselis  he  marched  on  foot  through  the  pass  ol  the 
mountain  called  Climax:"  and  it  is  very  well  known 
that  this  prince,  who  was  vastly  fond  of  the  marvel- 
lous, never  let  slip  any  opportunity  of  persuading  the 
people,  that  the  gods  protected  him  in  a  very  singu- 
lar manner. 

While  he  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Phaselis, 
he  discovered  a  conspiracy  which  was  carrying  on 
by  Alexander,  son  of  Eropus,  whom  he  had  a  little 


«  Plul.  In  Alex.  p. 677. 

•  Bo.Ti'fiu;  yif  Syoirsieof  Tx"»  viri  rev  sraija^  ,.}  ov 
fit*,*  i  Sail  ilSifiiv.v;  xii-ru.'  Jrfii  pi*  T&  kfirrtr  IVHTO.TS 
f,'*v,  -rft;  it  TO  ?(i-r»c»  iXi^af  irTi'mr. 

>  Floras.  I.  iii.  r.  5.  «  Dout.  xxir  5. 

•  Suab.  I.  xiv.  p.  066. 


Before  appointed  general  of  the  Thessalian  cavalry 
in  the  room  of  Galas,  whom  he  had  made  governor 
of  a  province.  Darius,  upon  the  receipt  ol  a  letter 
which  this  traitor  had  sent  him,  promised  him  » 
reward  of  1000  tal«-nts,6  of  gold,  with  the  kingdom 
of  Macedonia,  in  case  he  could  murder  Alexander; 
thinking  that  he  could  not  pay  too  clear  for  a  crime 
which  would  rid  him  of  so  formidable  a>i  enemy. 
The  messenger  who  carried  the  king's  answer  being 
seized,  made  a  full  confession,  by  which  means  the 
traitor  was  brought  to  condign  punishment. 

Alexander,  after  having  settled  allairs  in  Cilicia, 
and  Pamphylia,  marched  his  army  to  Cela?n;r,  £.  city 
of  Phrygia,  watered  by  the  river  Marsvas,  which  the 
fictions  of  poets  have  made  so  famous.  He  sum- 
moned the  garrison  of  the  citadtl,  whither  the 
inhabitants  were  retired,  to  surrender;  but  these 
believing  it  impregnable,  answered  haughtily,  that 
ihey  would  first  die.  However,  finding  the  attack 
carried  on  with  great  vigour,  they  desired  a  truce 
of  sixty  day?,  at  the  expiration  of  which  they 
promised  to  open  their  gates,  in  case  they  were  not 
sufcoured;  and  accordingly,  no  aid  arriving,  they 
urrendered  themselves  upon  the  clay  fixed. 

From  thence  the  king  marched  into  Phrygia,  the 
capital  of  which  was  called  Gordium,  the  ancitnt  and 
famous  residence  of  king  Midas,  situated  on  the  river 
Sangarius.  Having  taken  the  city,  he  was  de-irous 
of  seeing  the  famous  chariot,  to  which  the  Goidian 
knot  was  tied.  This  knot,  which  fastened  the  yoke 
to  the  beam,  was  tied  with  so  much  art,  and  the 
strings  were  twisted  in  so  intricate  a  manner,  thut  it 
was  impossible  to  discover  where  it  began  or  ended. 
According  to  an  ancient  tradition  o(  the  country,  an 
oracle  had  foretold,  that  the  man  who  could  untie  it, 
should  possess  the  empire  of  Asia.  As  Alexander 
was  firmly  persuaded  that  this  promise  related  to 
himself,  after  many  fruitless  trials,  he  cried,  "I 
no  matter  which  way  it  be  untied,""  and  thereu 
cut  it  with  the  sword,  and  by  that  means,  says  t 
historian,  either  eluded  o,r  fulfilled  the  oracle.8 

In  the  mean  time  Darius  was  setting  every  engine 
at  work,  in  order  to  make  a  vigorous  defence.  Men>- 
non  the  Rhodian  advised  him  to  carry  the  war  into 
Macedonia,  which  counsel  seemed  the  most  proper 
to  extricate  him  fr  in  the  present  danger:  for  the 
Lacedaemonians,  and  several  other  Greek  nations, 
who  had  no  affection  for  the  Macedonian*,  would 
have  been  ready  to  join  him;  by  which  means  Alex- 
ander must  have  been  forced  to  feove  Asia,  and  return 
suddenly  over  the  sea,  to  defend  his  own  country. 
Darius  approved  this  counsel,  and  having  determined 
to  follow  it,  committed  the  execution  of  it  to  the 


It  is 
pon 
the 


•  About  1,500.0007.  sterling. 

'  Sorlem  oraculi  vel  flush,  vel  implevit.     Quint.  Curt. 

•  [Gordium,  according  to   Rennel's  map.    M.  2.  lay   103 
geographical,  or  upwards  of  120  British  miles  north,  n  liitlo 
east  of  Oelffne.     In  his  march  thither.   AI>'X«nilrr  h:id  lo 
cross  the    lofty  chain,    now  called   the    Mciraj;h    Dash,  the 
south   boundary  of  Pliryj.-ia    Parorias,  or   the  crial   inland 
tract  nf  Asia  Minor,     li  is  difficult   precis,  ly  to  tii  the  site 
of  Gorditim,  the  ancient  capital  of  Phrygia      That   it  stood 
on  the  Suncarius  all  agree      Kinnicr.  IhcMjrn  hi«  route  lay 
near  the  supposed  site  of  that  city,  was  unable  to  sain  any 
information  rejecting  it.  bul  places  il  in  hi*  map  near  the 
modern  Beylmzaar,  considerably  to  the  east  of  Bvvrr  llisi'ir 
All  we  know  is,  that  it  stood  somewhere  on  tin-  S-iiigaricg, 
not   far   from   its  source.     Renn<  1    identifier  It   in  his   mep, 
with  the  modern  Sever  Hissar.  built  on  the  side  of  a  range 
of  craL't-y   rocks,  opening  towards  the   soiiili   on   the   great 
plain  of  i'hrysia  Salmans,   whereas  Kinni-  r  n>nki-s  it  to  be 
the  ancient   Abroslola.     The  whole  of  this  part  of  I'hr,  ria, 
once  covered   with   towns  and   villages.   i<   now   a    treeleM 
desolate  plain.     Gordium,  though  founded  by  Gnrdius.  did 
not  long  retain  it*  honours,  hut  wag  soon  reduced  to  a   poor, 
mean  village,  as  Si rabo  informs   us.     It  however  reoovi  red 
its  importance  in  the  time  of  (he  Triumvirate  when  il  wa» 
aijain  made   a  city,   and  called   Juliopoii*.  in  honour  of  Au- 
:MI«II>S  Osar,  by  one  Cleo,  a  noted  robber,  and  native  of 
that  place. 

This  Ktory  of  the  Gordian  knot  is  taken  from  Ciirtiim,  but 
big  authority  is  not  to  be  compared  lo  that  of  Aristobulu*, 
who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  fact,  and  who  e^;m  <-lv  rle- 
clarea  that  Al.  jcander  did  not  rut  it.  to  which  Plutarch 
airrecg.  Ariatnhiilus  fissures  us  that  he  wn^ird  a  woo  'e» 
pin  out  of  the  beam  ot"  the  wnjiron,  which  bein«  driven  if 
ucroij  the  beam,  held  it  up,  and  so  took  '.he  vole  from  it.J 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


537 


original  proposer.  Accordingly  Memnon  was  de- 
clared aiiinir.il  of  the  fleet,  and  captain-general  of  all 
the  forces  designed  for  that  expedition. 

Darius  could  not  possibly  have  made  a  better 
choice.  M«  union  was  the  ablest  general  in  his  ser- 
vice, had  fought  a  great  many  ytars  under  the  Per- 
ii.iu  standards  with  Hie  utmost  tide  lily.  Had  his  ad- 
vice been  taki  n,  the  battle  ol  Granicus  bad  not 
been  fought.  He  did  not  abandon  his  master's  inte- 
rests alter  Ilia*  misfortune,  but  had  assembled  the  scat- 
tered reccjin*  of  the  army,  and  immediately  withdrew 
6is(  to  Miletus,  from  thence  to  Halicarnassus,  and  last- 
ly into  the  island  of  Cos,  where  he  was  when  he  re- 
ceived his  new  commission.  This  place  was  the  ren- 
d-.zvoiis  for  the  Heet:  and  Memnon  was  now  medita- 
ting wholly  upon  the  manner  how  to  put  his  design 
into  execution.  He  made  himself  master  of  the  island 
Of  Chios, and  all  Lesbos,  the  city  of  Mit.tlene  except- 
ed.  From  thence  he  was  preparing  to  pass  over  into 
Euboea,  aiul  to  make  Greece  and  Macedonia  the  seat 
of  the  war,  but  died  before  Mitylene,  which  'city  he 
had  been  forced  to  besiege.  His  death  was  the  great- 
est misfortune  that  cojIJ  possibly  have  happened  to 
Persia.  We  see  on  this  occasion  the  inestimable 
worth  of  a  man  of  merit,  whose  death  is  SQinetimes 
the  ruin  of  a  state.  The  loss  of  Memnon  frustrated 
the  execution  of  the  plan  he  had  formed:  for  Darius 
not  having  one  general  in  his  army  who  was  able  to 
supply  Meinnon's  place,  abandoned  entirely  the  only 
enterprise  which  could  have  saved  his  empire.  His 
»o.e  resource,  therefore,  now  lay  in  the  armies  of  the 
East.  Darius,  dissatisfied  with  all  his  generals,  re- 
solved to  command  in  person,  and  appointed  Babylon 
lor  the  rendezvous  of  his  army:  where,  upon  being 
mustered,  they  were  found  to  be  about  4,  5,  or  600,- 
000  men,  for  historians  differ  very  much  with  respect 
to  the  number. 

Alexander,  having  left  Gordium.  marched  into  Pa- 
ph]  !_'  Mii.i  and  Cappadocia,  which  he  subdued.  It 
was  there  he  heard  of  Memnon'g  death,  the  news 
whereof  confirmed  him  in  the  resolution  he  had  taken 
of  marching  immediately  into  the  provinces  of  Upper 
Asia.  Accordingly  he  advanced  by  hasty  marches  in- 
to Cilicia,  and  arrived  in  the  country  called  Cyrus's 
camp.1  From  thence  there  is  no  more  than  fifty  sta- 
dia (two  leagues  and  a  half)  to  the  pass  of  Cilicia, 
which  is  a  very  narrow  defile,  through  which  persons 
are  obliged  to  go  from  Cappadocia  to  Tarsus.  The 
officer  who  guarded  it  in  Darius's  name,  had  left  but 
few  «oldiers  In  it,  and  those  fled  (he  ins-tant  they  heard 
of  the  enemy's  arrival.  Upon  this,  Alexander  enter- 
ed the  pass,  and  alter  viewing  very  attentively  the 
situation  of  the  place,  he  admired  his  own  good  for- 
tune; and  confessed  that  he  might  have  been  very 
easily  stopped  and  defeated  there,  merely  by  the 
thiowing  of  stones;  for.  not  to  mention  that  this  pass 
was  so  narrow,  that  four  men  completely  armed  could 
scarcely  walk  abreast  in  it;  the  top  of  the  mountain 
hung  over  the  road,  which  was  not  only  narrow,  but 
broken  up  in  several  places,  by  the  fall  of  torrents 
from  the  mountains. 

Alexander  marched  his  whole  army  to  the  city  of 
Tarsus  where  it  arrived  the  very  instant  the  Persian* 
were  selling  fire,  to  that  place,  to  prevent  his  deriving 
any  benefit  irom  the  plunder  of  so  opulent  a  city.  But 
Par  nenio,  whom  the  king  had  sent  thither  with  a  de- 
tachment of  horse,  arrived  very  seasonably  to  stop  the 
progress  of  the  fire,  and  marched  into  the  city,  which 
tie  saved ;  the  Barbarians  having  fled  the  moment 
they  heard  of  his  arrival. 

Through  this  city  the  Cydnus  runs,  a  river  not  so 
remarkable  for  ihe  breadth  of  it«  channel,  as  for  the 
beauty  ol  its  waters,  which  are  clear  and  limpid;  but 
at  the  same  lime  excessively  cold,  because  of  the  tuft- 
ed trees  with  which  its  banks  are  overshadowed.  It 
was  now  about  the  end  of  summer,  which  is  exces- 
sivelv  -iiltry  in  Cilicia,  and  in  the  holiest  part  of  the 
day,  when  the  king,  who  was  quite  covered  with  -\\eat 
and  dust,  arriving  on  its  trmks,  had  a  mind  to  bathe 


I  Quintus  Curtius  supposes  it  to  be  to  railed  from  Cyrus 
(lie  Grrat.  and   Arrian  from  the  younger  Cyrus,  which  opi 
niun  appears  ihe  ihogt  probable 
V'uu  1—68 


tn  that  river,  invited  by  the  beauty  nnd  clearness  ol 
the  stream.  However,  ihe  instant  he  plunged  into 
it,  he  was  seiied  with  so  violent  a  shivering,  that  all 
the  slanders  by  fancied  he  was  dying.  Upon  this  he 
was  carried  to  his  tent,  al'ter  tainting  away.  The 
news  of  this  sad  disaster  threw  the  whole  ai::iy  into 
the  utmost  consternation.  They  nil  burst  into  tears, 
and  breathed  their  plaints  in  the  following  words: 
"  The  greatest  prince  that  ever  lived  i«  torn  from  us 
in  ihe  midsl  of  his  prosperity  and  conquests;  not  in  p 
battle,  or  at  the  storming  ot  a  city,  but  dies  by  his 
bathing  in  a  river.  Darius,  who  is  coming  up  with 
us,  will  conquer  before  he  has  seen  his  enemy.  We 
hall  be  forced  to  retire,  like  so  many  fugitives, 
through  those  very  rountrie*  which  we  entered  wi'h 
triumph;  and  as  the  places  through  which  we  must 
pass  are  either  desert  or  depopulated,  hunger  alone, 
should  we  meet  no  other  enemy,  will  itself  de- 
troy  us.  But  who  shall  guide  us  in  our  (light,  or 
dare  to  set  himself  up  in  Alexander's  stead?  And 
should  we  be  so  happy  as  to  arrive  :it  the  Hellespont, 
how  shall  we  furnish  ourselves  with  vessels  to  cross 
it?"  After  this,  directing  thtir  whole  thoughts  to 
the  prince,  and  forgetting  themselves,  they  cried 
aloud.  '•  Alas,  how  sad  is  it  that  he  was  our  king, and 
the  companion  of  our  toils;  a  king  in  the  flower  of 
his  youth,  and  in  the  course  of  his  greatest  prosperi- 
ty, should  be  taken  off,  and  in  a  manner  torn  from 
our  arms!" 

At  last  the  king  recovered  his  senses  by  degrees, 
and  began  to  know  the  persons  who  stood  round  him; 
though  the  only  svmplom  he  gave  of  his  recovery 
WHS,  his  being  sensible  of  his  illness.  But  he  was 
more  indisposed  in  mind  than  in  body,  for  new?  was 
brought  that  Darius  might-soon  arrive.  Alexander 
bewailed  perpetually  his  hard  fate,  in  being  thus  ex- 
posed naked  and  defenceless  to  his  enemy,  and  robbed 
of  so  noble  a  victory,  since  he  was  now  reduced  to 
the  melancholy  condition  of  dying  obscurely  in  his 
tent,  and  far  from  having  attained  the  glory  he  had 
promised  himself.  Having  ordered  his  confidential 
friends  and  physicians  to  come  into  his  tent,  "  You 
see,"  said  he,  "  my  (riends,  the  sad  extremity  to  which 
fortune  reduces  me.  Methinks  I  already  hear  the 
sound  of  the  enemy's  arms,  and  see  Darius  advancing, 
He  undoubtedly  held  intelligence  with  mv  evil  ge- 
nius,2 when  he  wrote  letters  to  his  lieutenants  in  so 
lofty  and  contemptuous  a  strain;  however,  he  shall 
not  obtain  his  desire,  provided  my  physicians  will  at- 
tempt to  cure  me  in  the  manner  I  desire.  The  pre- 
sent condition  of  my  affairs  will  not  admit  either  of 
slow  remedies  or  fearful  physicians.  A  speedy  death 
is  more  eligible  to  me  than  a  slow  cure.  In  case  the 
physicians  think  it  is  in  their  power  to  do  me  any  good, 
they  are  to  know  that  I  do  not  to  much  wish  to  live 
as  to  fight." 

This  sudden  impatience  of  the  king  spread  a  uni- 
versal alarm.  The  physicians,  who  were  sensible 
they  should  be  answerable  for  the  event,  did  not  dare 
to  hazard  violent  and  extraordinary  remedies;  espe- 
cially as  Darius  had  published,  that  he  would  reward 
with  1000  talents9  the  man  who  should  kill  Alexan- 
der. However,  Philip,  an  Acarnanian,  one  of  his  phy- 
sicians, who  had  always  attended  upon  him  from  his 
youth,  loved  him  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  not  only 
as  his  sovereign,  but  his  child:  raising  himself  (mere- 
ly out  of  affection  to  Alexander)  above  all  prudential 
considerations,  offered  to  give  him  a  dose,  which, 
though  not  very  violent,  would  nevertheless  be  speedy 
in  its  effects;  nnd  desired  three  days  to  prepare  it. 
At  this  proposal  every  one  trembled,  but  he  alone 
whom  it  most  concerned ;  Alexander  being  afflicted 
upon  no  other  account,  than  because  it  would  keep 
him  three  days  from  appearing  at  the  head  of  his  army. 

While  these  things  were  doing,  Alexander  received 
n  letter  fro«i  Parmenio,  who  was  left  behind  in  Cap- 


•  Darius,  who  imagined  himnclf  lure  of  ovorcomins  Alt'* 
under,  had  written  to  hi*  lieutenant*,  that  they  should  chat 
l\fc  I hi«  young  madman  ;  nnd  after  clothing  him  in  puiiil*, 
out  of  derision,  they  nhould  .fnd  him,  hound   hand  acd  tool 
to  the  court.     Frrinsheim.  in  Quint.  Curt. 

*  About  145.000/.  sterling 


538 


HISTORY  O*   ALEXANDER. 


padocia,  in  whom  Alexander  put  greater  confidence 
than  in  any  other  of  his  courtiers;  the  purport  of 
which  was,  to  bid  him  beware  of  Philip,  for  that  Da- 
rius had  bribed  him,  by  the  promise  of  1000  talents 
and  his  sister  in  marriage.  This  letter  gave  him  great 
uneasiness,1  for  he  was  now  at  full  leisure  to  weigh 
all  the  reasons  he  might  have  to  hope  or  to  fear.  But 
the  confidence  in  a  physician,  whose  sincere  attach- 
ment and  fidelity  he  had  proved  from  his  infancy, 
soon  prevailed,  and  removed  all  his  doubts.  He  fold- 
ed up  the  letter,  and  put  it  under  his  bolster,  without 
acquainting  any  one  with  the  contents  of  it. 

The  day  being  come,  Philip  enters  the  tent  with 
his  medicine,  when  Alexander,  taking  the  letter  from 
under  the  bolster,  gives  it  Philip  to  read.  At  the 
came  time  he  takes  the  cup,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the 
physician,  swallows  the  draught  without  the  least  he- 
sitation, or  without  discovering  the  slightest  suspicion 
or  uneasiness.  Philip,  as  he  perused  the  letter,  had 
showed  greater  signs  of  indignation  than  of  fear  or 
surprise;  and  throwing  himself  upon  the  king's  bed — 
"  Royal  Sir,"  says  he,  with  a  resolute  tone  of  voice, 
your  recovery  will  soon  clear  me  ot  the  guilt  of  par- 
ricide with  which  I  am  charged.  The  only  favour  I 
beg  is,  that  you  would  be  easy  in  your  own  mind; 
and  sutler  the  draught  to  operate,  and  not  regard  the 
intelligence  you  have  received  from  servants,  who  in- 
deed have  shown  their  zeal  for  your  welfare;  a  zeal, 
however,  very  indiscreet  and  unseasonable."  These 
words  did  not  only  revive  the  king,  but  filled  him 
with  hope  and  joy;  so,  taking  Philip  by  the  band, 
"  Be  you  yourself  easy,"  says  he  to  him,  "for  1  be- 
lieve you  are  disquieted  upon  a  double  account;  first, 
for  my  recovery,  and  secondly,  for  your  own  justifi- 
cation." 

In  the  mean  time,  the  physic  worked  so  violently, 
that  the  accidents  which  attended  it  strengthened 
Pamieiiio's  accusation;  for  the  king  lost  his  speech, 
and  was  seized  with  such  strong  fainting  fits,  that  he 
had  hardly  any  pulse  left,  or  the  least  symptoms  of 
life.  Philip  employed  all  the  powers  of  physic  to  re- 
cover him,  and  in  every  lucid  interval  diverted  him 
with  agreeable  subjects;  conversing  with  him  at  one 
time  about  his  mother  and  sisters,  and  another  about 
the  mighty  victory  which  was  advancing,  with  hasty 
steps,  to  crown  his  past  triumphs.  At  last  the  physi- 
cian's art  having  gained  the  ascendant,  and  diffused 
through  every  vein  a  salutary  and  vivific  virtue;  his 
mind  first  began  to  resume  its  former  vigour,  and  af- 
terwards his  body,  much  sooner  than  had  been  ex- 
pected. Three  days  after,  ho  showed  himself  to  the 
arnn1,  who  were  never  satisfied  with  gazing  upon  him, 
and  could  scarce  believe  their  eyes;  so  much  had  the 
greatness  of  the  danger  terrified  and  dejected  them. 
jSfo  caresses  were  enough  for  the  phy>ician;  every 
one  embracing  him  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  and 
returning  him  thanks  as  to  a  god,  who  had  saved  the 
life  of  their  sovereign. 

Besides  the  respect  which  these  people  had  natu- 
rally for  their  kings,  words  can  never  express  how 
greatly  they  admired  this  monarch  more  than  any 
other,  and  the  strong  affection  they  bore  him. 

They  were  persuaded,  that  he  did  not  undertake 
any  thing  without  the  immediate  assistance  of  the 
pods;  and  as  success  always  attended  his  designs, 
even  his  rashness  conduced  to  his  glory,  and  seemed 
to  have  something  divine  jn  it.  His  youth,  which  one 
would  have  concluded  incapable  of'such  mighty  en- 
terprises, and  which,  however,  overcame  all  dith'cul- 
ties,  gave  a  fresh  merit  and  a  brighter  lustre  to  his 
action*.*  Besides,  certain  advantages  that  generally 
are  little  regarded,  which  yet  engage  in  a  wonderful 
manner  the  hearts  of  the  soldiery,  greatly  augmented 
the  merit  of  Alexander;  such  as'  his  taking  delight  in 
bodily  exercises;  his  discovering  a  skill  and  excellen- 
cy in  them;  his  going  clothed  like  the  common  sol- 
diers,  and  knowing  how  to  familiarize  him-elf  with 
Inferiors,  without  lessening  his  dignity  :  his  sharing  in 


toils  and  dangers  with  the  most  laborious  and  intre- 
pid; qualities  which,  whether  Akxander  owed  them 
to  nature,  or  had  acquired  them  by  rt  fled  ion,  mad* 
him  equally  beloved  and  respected  by  his  soldiers. 

During  this  interval,  Darius  was  on  his  march,  full 
of  vain  confidence  in  the  immense  nun>b«-r  of  hi* 
troop*,  and  forming  a  judgment  of  the  two  armiei 
merely  from  their  disparity  in  that  point.  The  plain* 
of  Assyria,  in  which  he  w-as  encamped,  gave  him  an 
opportunity  of  extending  his  horse  as  he  pleased,  and 
of  availing  himself  of  the  advantage  which  numbers 
gave  him.  But,  led  astray  by  his  arrogance,  he  en- 
tangles himself  in  narrow  passes,  where  his  cavs-.lry 
and  the  multitude  of  his  troops,  so  far  from  doing  him 
any  service,  would  only  encumber  one  another;  and 
advances  towards  the  enemy,  for  whom  he  should 
have  waited,  and  runs  visibly  to  his  own  destruction. 
Nevertheless,  the  grandees  of  his  court,  whose  cus- 
tom it  was  to  flatter  and  applaud  his  every  action, 
congratulated  him  beforehand  on  the  victory  he 
would  soon  obtain,  as  if  it  had  been  certain  and  ine- 
vitable. There  was  at  that  time,  in  the  army  of  Da- 
rius, one  Caridemus,  an  Athenian,  a  man  of  great  ex- 
perience in  war,  who  personally  hated  Alexander, 
for  having  caused  him  to  be  banished  fiom  Athens. 
Darius,  turning  to  this  Athenian,  a-ked  him,  whether 
he  believed  him  powerful  enough  to  det*  at  his  enemy. 
Caridemus,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  bosom 
of  liberty,  forgetting  that  he  was  in  a  country  of 
slavery,  where  to  oppose  the  inclination  of  a  prince 
is  of  the  most  dangerous  consequence,  replied  as  fol- 
lows: "  Possibly,  Sir,  you  may  not  be  pleased  with 
my  telling  you  the  truth;  but,  in  case  I  do  not  do  it 
now.it  will  be  too  late  hereafter.  This  splendid  parade 
of  war,  this  prodigious  number  of  men  which  has 
drained  all  the  East,  might  indeed  be  formidable  to 
your  neighbours.  Gold  and  purple  glitter  in  every 
part  of  your  army,  which  is  so  prodigiously  sj  lemiid, 
that  those  who  have  not  seen  it,  could  never  form  an 
idea  of  its  magnificence.  But  the  soldiers  who  com- 
pose the  Macedonian  army,  terrible  to  behold,  and 
bristling  in  every  part  with  arms,  do  not  amuse  them- 
selves with  such  idle  show.  Their  only  care  is  to 
draw  up  in  a  regular  manner  their  battalions,  and  to 
cover  themselves  close  with  their  bucklers  and  pike*. 
Their  phn!anx  is  a  body  of  infantry,  which  engages 
without  flinching;  and  keeps  so  close  in  their  ranks, 
that  the  soldiers  and  their  arms  form  a  kind  of  im- 
penetrable work.  In  a  word,  every  single  man  among 
them,  the  officers  as  well  as  soldiers,  are  so  well  train- 
ed, so  attentive  to  the  command  of  their  leaders,  thit, 
whether  they  are  to  assemble  under  their  standards 
to  turn  to  th'e  right  or  left,  to  double  their  ranks,  and 
face  about  to  the  enemy  on  all  sides,  at  the  leh.-t  *\z- 
nal  they  make  every  motion  and  evolution  of  the  art 
of  war.  But  that  you  may  be  persuaded,  the-e  Ma- 
cedonians are  not  invited"^  hither  from  the  hopes  of 
gaining  gold  and  silver;'  know,  that  this  excellent 
discipline  has  sub.-isted  hitherto  by  the  sole  aids  and 
precepts  of  poverty.  Are  they  hungry?  they  satisfy 
their  appetite  with  any  kind  of  food.  Are  they  wea- 
ry? they  repose  themselves  on  the  bare  ground,  and 
in  the  day-time  nre  always  upon  their  feet.  Do  you 
fancy  that  the  Thessalian  cavalry,  and  that  of  Acar- 
nania  and  jEtolia,  who  are  all  armed  cap-a-pie,  are  to 
be  repulsed  by  stones  hurleti  from  slinks,  nnd  with 
sticks  burnt  nt  the  end?  Troops  {ike  themsel\e«  will 
be  necessary  to  check  theircareer;  and  succours  must 
be  procured  from  their  country  to  oppose  them.  Send 
therefore  thither  all  the  useless  go.'d  an  J  silver  whit  h 
I  see  here,  and  purchase  with  it  formidable  so!;!itr?.' 
Darius*  was  naturally  of  a  miid.  tractnble  di?po»i- 
tion;  but  good  fortune  will  corrupt  tSe  most  harpy 
temper.  Few  monarchs  are  resolute  and  courngecui 
enough  to  withstand  their  own  power,  to  repcl-e  th« 
flnttery  of  the  many  people  who  are  perjwtuallv  in- 
flaming their  passions,  and  to  ester m  R  man  wl.o  love* 
them  so  well,  as  to  contradict  am)  di*t  Uw-e  them,  by 


i  1  ir.err  animn  lolicitudinrm  liters  inruraerant ;  et 
qa'<-cju:il  in  ulramquc  parlem  aut  metuaauupe*  nubjecerat, 
•ecrria  a-stm'jiiorir  peimahat.  Q.  Curt 

•  Qu:,>  It-viuru  lialicri  sclent,  plcruiuque  in  re  militari  gra- 
tiora  vui;;c  tunt.  Q,  Curt 


*  Et  ne  auri  areenti^ue   studio   teneri  fute.i,  adhuc  ill 
discipline,  patpertate  nia»i.«tra  strtit.     Q    Curl. 

*  Erat  Dario  mite  nc  tractabiicinpenium.  nisi  etiam  sua 
naturam  pk-rumque  furiuna  corrumpcret.     Ci.  Curt      *  tut 
peel  the  particle  suam. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


539 


telling  them  the  genuine  truth,  Darius,  not  having 
Strength  of  mind  sufficient  for  this,  gives  orders  for 
dragging  to  execution  a  man  who  had  fled  to  him  for 
protection,  was  at  that  time  his  guest,  and  gave  him 
at  tliat  time  the  best  counsel  that  could  have  been 
proposed  to  him.  However,  as  this  cruel  treatment 
could  not  silence  Caridemus,  he  cried  aloud,  with  his 
usual  freedom:  "My  avenger  is  at  hand,  in  the  per- 
son of  that  very  man  in  opposition  to  whom  I  gave 
you  counsel,  and  he  will  soon  punish  you  for  despis- 
ing it.  As  for  you,  Darius,1  in  whom  sovereign  power 
has  wrought  so  sudden  a  change,  you  will  teach  pos- 
terity, that  when  once  men  abandon  themselves  to 
the  delusion  of  fortune,  she  erases  from  their  minds 
kit  the  seeds  of  goodness  implanted  in  them  by  na- 
ture." Darius  soon  repented  his  having  put  to  death 
§o  valuable  a  person;  and  experienced,  but  too  late, 
the  truth  of  all  he  had  told  him. 

The  king  advanced  with  his  troops  towards  the 
Euphrates.  It  was  a  custom  long  used  by  the  Per- 
sians, never  to  set  out  upon  a  march  till  alter  sunrise, 
at  which  time  the  trumpet  was  sounded  for  that  pur- 
pose from  the  king's  tent.  Over  this  tent  was  exhibi- 
ted to  the  view  ol  the  whole  army,  the  image  of  the 
•uu  set  in  crystal.  The  order  they  observed  in  their 
march  was  this. 

First,  were  carried  silver  altars,  on  which  lay  the 
fire,  called  by  them  sacred  and  eternal;  and  these 
were  followed  by  the  Magi,  singing  hymns  after  the 
manner  of  their  country.  They  were  accompanied 
by  365  youths  (agreeable  to  the  number  of  days  in  a 
year)  clothed  in  purple  robes.  Afterwards  came  a 
car  consecrated  to  Jupiter,*  drawn  by  white  horses, 
and  followed  by  a  courser  of  prodigious  size,  to  which 
they  gave  the  name  of  the  sun's  horse;  nnd  the  equer- 
ries were  dressed  in  white,  each  having  a  golden  rod 
in  his  hand. 

Ten  chariots,  adorned  with  sculptures  in  gold  and 
silver,  followed  after.  Then  marched  a  body  of  horse, 
composed  of  twelve  nations,  whose  manners  and 
customs  were  various,  and  all  armed  in  a  different 
•lanner.  Next  advanced  those  whom  the  Persians 
called  The  Immortals,  amounting  to  10,000,  who 
surpassed  the  rest  of  the  Barbarians  in  the  sumptu- 
ousness  of  their  apparel.  They  all  wore  golden  col- 
Jars,  were  clothed  in  robes  of  gold  tissue,  with  sur- 
touts  (having  sleeves  to  them)  adorned  with  precious 
stones. 

Thirty  paces  from  them,  followed  those  called  the 
king's  cousins  or  relations,3  to  the  number  of  15,000, 
in  habits  very  much  resembling  those  of  women,  and 
more  remarkable  for  the  vain  pomp  of  their  dress  than 
the  glitter  of  their  arms. 

Those  called  the  Doryphori  <  came  after:  they  car- 
ried the  king's  cloak  and  walked  before  his  chariot, 
in  which  he  appeared  seated  as  on  a  high  throne. 
This  chariot  was  enriched  on  both  sides  with  images 
ol  the  gods  in  gold  and  silver;  and  from  the  middle 
of  the  yoke,  which  was  covered  with  jewels,  rose 
two  statues  a  cubit  in  height,  the  one  representing 
War,  the  other  Peace,  having  a  golden  eagle  between 
them,  with  wings  extended,  as  ready  to  take  its  flight. 

Hut  nothing  could  equal  the  magnificence  of  the 
king.  Hi-  was  clothed  in  a  vest  of  purple,  striped 
with  silver,  and  ov«  r  it  a  long  robe  glittering  all  over 
with  gold  and  precious  stones,  on  which  were  repre- 
sented two  falcons  rushing  from  the  clouds,  and  peck- 
ing at  one  another.  Around  his  waist  he  wore  a  gold- 
en gird  It,3  after  the  manner  ol"  women,  whence  his 
scimitar  hung,  the  srabbard  of  which  (lamed  all  over 
with  gen's  On  his  head  he  wore  a  tiiira  or  mitre, 
round  whicn  was  a  fillet  of  blue  mixed  with  white. 

On  each  side  of  him  walked  200  of  his  nearest  re- 

»  Tu  quiclem  lirentia  ro^ni  iubitd  mutatu',  Hocumentum 
criii  postp ri>.  homin-s.  rum  se  pcrmisere  fortune,  etiam  na- 
lor  a  in  dedisrere.  Q.  Curt. 

*  Jupiter  wa<  a  god  unknown   to  the  Persian*     Cluintus 
Curliua,    therotVrp,    in   ull   probability,   calls   tlie   first   and 
greatpst  ot'thfir  pods  by  that  name. 

»  This  was  a  tiile  of  dignity.     Possibly  a  great  number 
•f  the  kiiij's  rcl-i'i.'iii  vvr<>  in  this  body. 
«  The*!  were  guards  wbo  carried  a  half-pike 

•  Cidarin 


lations,  followed  by  10,000  pikeman,  whost  pikes  were 
adorned  with  silver  and  tipped  with  gold;  and  lastly, 
30,000  infantry,  who  composed  the  rearguard.  These 
were  followed  by  the  king's  horses,  (400  in  number,) 
all  which  were  led. 

About  100,  or  120  paces  from  thence,  came  Syai- 
gambis,  Darius's  mother,  seated  on  a  chariot,  and  his 
consort  on  another,  with  the  several  female  attendants 
of  both  queens  riding  on  horse-back.  Afterwards 
came  fifteen  large  chariots,  in  which  were  the  king's 
children,  and  those  who  had  the  care  of  their  educa- 
tion, with  a  band  of  eunuchs,  who  are  to  this  day  in 
great  esteem  with  those  nations.  Then  marched  the 
concubines,  to  the  number  of  360,  in  the  equipage  of 
queens,  followed  by  600  mules  and  300  camels,  which 
carried  the  king's  treasure,  and  were  guarded  by  a 
great  body  of  archers. 

After  these  came  the  wives  of  the  crown  officers, 
and  of  the  greatest  lords  of  the  court;  then  the  sut- 
lers, and  servants  of  the  army,  seated  also  in  chariots. 

In  the  rear  were  a  body  ol  light  armed  troops,  with 
their  commanders,  who  closed  the  whole  march. 

Would  not  the  reader  believe,  that  he  had  been 
reading  the  description  of  a  tournament,  not  the 
march  of  an  army?  Could  he  imagine  that  princes 
of  the  least  reason  would  have  been  so  stupid,  as  to 
incorporate  with  their  forces  so  cumbersome  a  train 
of  women,  princesses,  concubines,  eunuchs,  and  do- 
mestics of  both  sexes?  But  the  custom  of  the  coun- 
try was  reason  sufficient.  Darius,  at  the  head  of  600- 
000  men,  and  surrounded  with  this  mighty  pomp, 
prepared  for  himself  alone,  fancied  he  was  great,  and 
formed  still  higher  notions  of  himself.  Yet  should 
we  reduce  him  to  his  just  proportion  and  his  personal 
worth,  how  little  would  he  appear!  But  he  is  not 
the  only  one  in  this  way  of  thinking,  and  of  whom 
we  may  form  the  same  judgment.  But  it  is  time  for 
us  to  bring  the  two  monarchs  to  blows. 

SECTIOiNT  V. — AIJCXANDER  GAINS  A  FAMOUS  VIC- 
TORY OVER  DARIUS,  NEAR  THE  CITV  OF  ISSUS. 
THE  CONSEQUENCES  OF  THAT  VICTORY. 
FOR  the  clearer  understanding  of 
Alexander's  march,  and  that  of  Dari-  A.  M.  3671. 
us,  and  the  better  fixing  the  situation  Ant.  J.  C.  333. 
of  the  spot  where  the  second  battle 
was  fought,  we  must  distinguish  three  defiles  or  jwss- 
es.  The  first  of  these  is  immediately  at  the  descent 
from  mount  Taurus,8  in  the  way  to  the  city  of  Tarsus, 
through  which,  as  has  been  already  seen,  Alexander 
marched  from  Cappadocia  into  Cilicia.  The  second 
is  the  pass  of  Cilicia  or  Syria,  leading  from  Cilicia 
into  Syria;  and  the  third  is  the  pass  of  Amanus,  so 
called  from  that  mountain.  This  pass,  which  leads 
into  Cilicia  from  Assyria,  is  much  higher  than  the 
pass  of  Syria,  northward. 

Alexander  had  detached  Parmenio  with  part  of  the 
army  to  seize  the  pass  of  Syria,  in  order  to  secure  a 
free  passage  for  his  army.  As  for  himself,  after  march- 
ing from  Tarsus  he  arrived  the  next  day  at  Anchiala, 
a  city  which  Sardanapalus  is  said  to  have  built.  His 
tomb  was  still  to  be  seen  in  that  city  with  this  inscrip- 
tion. "  Sanlannpnlns  built  Anchiala  and  Tarsus  in 
one  day:  GO,  PASSENGER,  EAT,  DRINK,  AND  REJOICE, 
FOR  THE  REST  is  NOTHING."  From  hence  he  came 
to  Soli,  where  he  ottered  sacrifices  to  Escnlapius,  in 
gratitude  for  the  recovery  of  his  health.  Alexander 
himself  headed  the  ceremony  with  lighted  tapers,  fol- 
lowed by  the  whole  army,  and  he  there  solemnized 
games;  after  which  he  returned  to  Tarsus.  Having 
commanded  Philotas  to  march  the  cavalry  through 
the  Aleian  plains,  towards  the  river  Pyrnmus,  he  him- 
self  went  with  the  infantry  and  his  life-guards  to  Ma- 
srHrsus.  whence  he  arrived  Ht  Mallos,  and  afterwards 
at  Ca<ta!«da.  Advice  had  been  brought  him,  that 
Darius,  with  his  whole  army,  was  encamped  at  Sochos 
in  A--\ria,  two  days' journey  from  Cilicia.  Alexan- 
der he'li)  a  council  of  war  upon  that  news;  when  all 
his  general*  and  officers  entreating  him  to  It  ad  them 

•  Diod.  I.  ivii.  p.  512—318.  Arrian  i.  ii.  p.  6B— 83L 
Plut  ici  Alex.  p.  075,  676.  G.  Curt.  I.  iii  e  4—12.  Juitin. 
1.  xi.  c.  9.  &  19. 


540 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


against  the  enemy,  he  set  out  the  next  day  to  meet 
the  Persians.  Parmenio  had  taken  the  little  city  of 
Issus,  and  after  possessing  himself  of  the  pas*  of  Syria, 
had  left  a  body  of  forces  to  secure  it.  The  king  left 
the.  sick  in  Issus,  inarched  his  whole  army  through 
the  pa-is,  and  encamped  near  the  city  of  Myriandros, 
where  the  badness  of  the  weather  obliged  him  to 
halt. 

In  the  mean  time,  Darius  wax  in  the  plains  of 
Assyria,  which  were  of  great  extent.  The  Grecian 
commanders  who  were  in  his  service,  and  formed  the 
chief  suength  of  his  army,  advised  him  to  wait  there 
the  coming  up  of  the  enemy.  For,  besides  that  this 
spot  wiis  open  on  all  sides,  and  very  advantageous 
for  his  horse,  it  was  spacious  enough  to  contain  his 
numerous  host,  whh  all  the  baggage  and  other  things 
belonging  to  the  arm}'.  However,  if  he  should  not 
approve  of  their  counsel,  they  then  advised  him  to 
separate  this  multitude,  and  select  such  onlv  as  were 
the  (lower  of  his  troops;  and  consequently  not 
venture  his  whole  army  upon  a  single  battle,  which 
perhaps  might  be  decisive.  However,  the  courtiers, 
with  whom  the  courts  of  monarch?,  as  A  man 
observe*,  for  ever  abound,  called  these  Greeks  an 
unfaithful  nation,  and  venal  wretches;  and  hinted  to 
Darius,  that  the  only  motive  of  their  counselling  the 
king  to  divide  his  troops  was,  that,  after  they  should 
once  be  separated  from  the  rest,  they  might  have  an 
easier  opportunity  of  delivering  up  into  the  enemy's 
hands  whatever  might  be  in  their  power;  but  that 
the  safest  way  would  be,  to  surround  them  with  the 
whole  nrmv,  and  cut  them  to  pieces,  as  a  memorable 
example  of  the  punishment  due  to  traitors.  This 
propos:-.!  was  shocking  to  Darius,  who  was  naturally 
of  a  very  ruild  and  humane  disposition.  He  therefore 
answered,  "  That  he  was  far  from  ever  designing  to 
commit  so  horrible  a  crime;  that  should  he  be  guilty 
of  it,  no  nation  would  afterwards  give  the  least  credit 
to  his  promises;  that  it  was  never  known'  that  a 
person  Had  been  put  to  death  for  giving  imprudent 
counsel;1  that  no  man  would  ever  venture  to  give 
his  opinion,  if  it  were  attended  with  such  danger,  a 
circumstance  that  would  be  of  the  most  fatal  conse- 
quence to  princes."  He  then  thanked  the  Greeks 
for  their  zeal  and  good  will,  and  condescended  to  lay 
before  them  the  reasons  which  prompted  him  not  to 
follow  their  advice. 

The  courtiers  had  persuaded  Darius,  that  Alexan- 
der's long  delay  in  coming  up  with  them,  was  a 
proof  and  an  effect  of  the  terror  with  which  the 
approach  of  the  Persian  army  had  filled  him  (for 
they  had  irot  heard  a  word  of  his  indisposition;)  that 
fortune,  merely  for  their  sake,  had  led  Alexander 
into  defiles  and  narrow  passes,  whence  it  would  be 
impossible  for  him  to  get  out,  in  case  they  should 
fall  upon  him  immediately;  that  they  ought  to  seize 
this  favourable  opportunity,  for  fear  the  enemy 
should  lly,  by  which  means  Alexander  would  escape 
them.  Upon  this,  it  was  resolved  in  council,  that 
the  army  should  inmrch  in  search  of  him;  the  gods, 
•ays  an  historian,2  blinding  the  eyes  of  that  prince, 
that  lie  might  rush  down  the  precipice  they  had 
prepared  for  him,  and  thereby  make  way  for  the 
destruction  of  the  Persian  monnrchy. 

Darius,  having  sent  his  treasure  with  his  most 
precious  effects  to  Damascus,  a  city  of  Syria,  under 
a  small  convoy,  marched  the  main  body  of  the  army 
towards  Cilicia,  and  entered  it  bv  the  pa-s  of 
Aniami',  which  lies  far  above  Che  passes  of  Syria. 
His  queen  and  mother,  with  the  princt«-r-  hi-, 
daughters,  and  the  litlle  prince  his  son.  followed  the 
•rmy.  according  to  the  cn-iorn  of  the  Persians,  but 
remained  in  the  camp  during  the  bailie.  \Vhenhe 
had  advanced  a  little  way  into  Cilicia  (from  east 
westward)  he  turned  short  towards  Nsus.  not  know- 
ing that  Alexander  was  behind;  for  he  had  been 
assured  that  this  prince  fled  before  him.  ai.d  was 
retiring  in  ffreat  disorder  into  Syria:  and  therefore 
Darius  was  now  con-iderinsr  how  he  might  best 
pursue  him  Me  tnr'>Ri-ou-ly  put  to  Henih  all  the 

i  Mominrm  nt.iliilum  rmmiliuin  rapiie  Im-re  druure  ilefu- 
tnroh  enim  qui  (uadcrcnt,  s\  »uasi«*e  |>crlculijra  tssct.  Q 
Curt.  »  Arrun. 


I  sick  who  were  in  the  city  »f  Is«us,  a  few  goldien 
txcepted,  whom  he  dismiss td  alter  making  then 
\  lew  <  vt  rv  part  of  his  camp,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  spectators  of  the  prodigious  multitude  of  hi» 
forces.  These  soldiers  accordingly  brought  Alex- 
antler  word  of  Danus's  approach,  which  he  could 
scarce  believe,  from  its  great  improbability,  though 
there  was  nothing  he  desired  more  earnestly.  But 
he  himself  WHS  soon  an  eye-witness  to  the  truth  of  it, 
upon  which  he  began  to  think  seriously  of  preparing 
for  battle. 

Alexander  fearing,  as  the  Barbarians  were  so 
numerous,  that  tiny  would  attack  him  in  his  camp, 
fortified  it  with  ditches  and  palisadoes,  discovering 
an  incredible  joy  to  see  his  desire  fulfilled,  which 
was  to  engage  in  those  passes,  whither  the  g'odi 
seemed  to  have  led  Darius  exprexsly  to  deliver  him 
into  his  hands. 

And,  indeed,  this  spot  of  ground,  which  was  but 
wide  enough  for  a  small  army  to  act  and  move  at 
liberty  in,  reduced,  in  some  measure,  the  two  armien 
to  an  equality.  By  this  means  the  Macedonians 
had  sp;ice  sufficient  to  employ  their  whole  army; 
whereas  the  Persians  had  not  room  for  the  twentieth 
part  of  theirs. 

Nevertheless,  Alexander,  as  frequently  happens 
even  to  the  greatest  captains,  felt  some  emotion 
when  he  saw,  that  he  was  going  to  hazard  all  at  one 
blow.  The  more  fortune  had  favoured  him  hitherto, 
the  more  he  now  dreaded  her  frowns;  the  moment 
approaching  which  was  to  determine  his  late.  But, 
on  the  other  side,  his  courage  revived  from  the  reflec- 
tion, that  the  rewards  of  his  toils  exceeded  the  dan- 
gers of  them;  and  though  he  was  uncertain  with 
legard  to  the  victory,  he  at  least  hoped  to  die  glori- 
ously, and  like  Alexander.  However,  he  did  not 
divulge  these  thoughts  to  any  one,  well  knowing,  that 
upon  the  approach  of  a  battle,  a  general  ought  not  to 
discover  the  least  marks  of  sadness  or  perplexity; 
and  that  the  troops  should  read  nothing  but  resolu- 
tion and  intrepidity  in  the  conntenance  of  their  com- 
mander. 

Having  made  his  soldiers  refresh  themselves,  and 
ordered  thtm  to  be  ready  for  the  third  watch  of  the 
night,  which  began  at  twelve,  he  went  to  tlie  top  of  a 
mountain,3  and  there,  by  torch-light,  sacrificed  aftet 
the  manner  of  his  country,  to  the  gods  of  the  place 
As  soon  as  the  signal  was  given,  his  army,  which  was 
ready  to  march  mid  ri»ht.  being  commanded  to  make 
greater  speed,  arrived  by  da\  break  at  the  several  posts 
assigned  them;  but  now  the  couriers  bringing  word 
that  Darius  was  not  above  thirty  furlongs  from  them, 
the  kinj;  caused  his  army  to  halt,  and  then  drew  it  up 
in  battle  array.  The  peasants  in  the  greatest  terror 
came  also  and  acquainted  Darius  with  the  arrival  of 
the  enemy,  which  he  would  not  at  first  believe,  ima- 
gining, as  we  have  observed  that  Alexander  fled  be- 
fore him,  and  was  endeavouring  to  escape.  Thil 
news  threw  h'e  troops  into  the  utmost  confusion,  who 
in  that  surprise  ran  to  their  arms  with  great  precipi- 
tation and  disorder. 

The  spot  where  the  battle  was  fought  lay  near  the 
city  »f  Issns,  and  was  bounded  by  mountains  on  on* 
side,  and  the  sea  on  the  oilier.     The  plain,  that  w»s 
situated   between  them  both,  must  have  been  of  con- 
siderable extent,  as   the  two  armies  encamped   in  it; 
and  i  before  observed,  that  Darius's  was  vastly  nume- 
rous.    The  river  Pinarus  ran  through  the  middle  of 
i  this  plain  from  the  mountain  to  the  sea.  and  divided 
I  it   very    near  into   two   equal  parts.     The  mountain 
!  formed  a  hollow  like  «  gulf,  the   extremity  of  which 
i  in  a  curve  line  bounded  part  of  the  plain. 

Alexander  drew.up  his  army  in  the  following  order. 

He  posted  at  the  * xtremitv  of  the  ri»ht  winsr,  which 

i  stood    near   the   mountain,   the   Argvraspid.  s.<  roiu- 

!  msnded   by   Nicanor:  then  the   phalanx   of  Coenus, 

;  Biul  afterwards  that  of  Perdiccas,  which  terminated  in 

the  centre  of  the   main  army.     On    the  extremity  of 

the  left  wins:  he  potted  the  |ih.»lanx  of  Ann  nta«,  then 

*  The  anrirni*  used  to  offer  up  their  sarririron  upon  emi- 
nence*. 

«  Thin  WH«  a  body  of  infantry.  riigtinguiiihpd  hy  their  ui 
i  vcr  shields,  but  more  so  by  their  great  bravery. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


541 


that  of  Ptolemy,  and  lastly,  that  of  Meleager.  Thus 
the  famous  Macedonian  phalanx  was  formed,  which 
We  find  was  composed  of  six  distinct  corps  or  brigades. 
Each  of  those  brigades  was  headed  by  able  generals; 
but  Alexander  was  always  commander-in-chief,  and 
directed  all  the  movements.  The  horse  were  placed 
on  the  two  wings;  the  Macedonians  with  the  Thessa- 
lians,  on  the  right,  and  those  of  Peloponnesus,  with 
the  other  ailies,  on  the  left.  Crattrus  commanded 
all  the  foot  of  the  left  wing,  and  Parmcnio  the  whole 
wing.  Alexander  had  reserved  to  himself  the  com- 
mand of  the  right.  He  had  desired  Parmenio  to  keep 
as  near  the  sea  as  possible,  to  prevent  the  Barbarians 
from  surrounding  him;  and  Nicanor,  on  the  contrary, 
was  ordered  to  keep  at  some  distance  from  the  moun- 
tains, in  order  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  the  arrows 
discharged  by  those  who  were  posted  on  them.  He 
Covered  the  horse  of  his  right  wing  with  the  light 
horse  of  Protomachus  and  the  Pasonians,  and  his  foot 
with  the  bowmen  of  Antiochus.  He  reserved  the 
Agrians  '  (commanded  by  Attains,}  who  were  greatly 
«isteemed,  and  some  forces  that  were  newly  arrived 
from  Greece,  to  oppose  those  which  Darius  had  post- 
ed on  the  mountains. 

As  for  Darius's  army,  it  was  drawn  up  in  the  fol- 
,owing_  order.  Having  heard  that  Alexander  was 
marching  towards  him  in  battle  array,  he  commanded 
30,000  horse  and  20,000  bowmen  to  cross  the  river 
Pinarus,  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  to  draw 
up  his  army  in  a  commodious  manner  on  the  hither 
side.  In  the  centre  he  posted  the  30,000  Greeks  in 
his  service,  who,  doubtless,  were  the  flower  and  chief 
strength  of  his  army,  and  were  not  at  all  inferior  in 
bravery  to  the  Macedonian  phalanx,  with  30,000  Car- 
daciani  on  their  right,  and  as  many  on  their  left;  the 
field  of  battle  not  being  able  to  contain  a  greater  num- 
ber. These  were  all  heavily  armed.  The  rest  of  the 
infantry,  distinguished  by  (heir  several  nations,  were 
ranged  behind  the  first  line.  It  were  to  be  wished 
that  Arrian  had  told  us  the  depth  of  those  two  lines; 
but  it  must  have  been  prodigious,  if  we  consider  the 
extreme  narrowness  of  the  pass,  and  the  amazing 
multitude  of  the  Persian  forces.  On  the  mountain 
which  lay  to  their  left,  against  Alexander's  right 
wing,  Darius  posted  20,000  men,  who  were  so  ranged 
(in  consequence  of  the  several  windings  of  the  moun- 
tain) that  some  were  behind  Alexander's  army,  and 
Others  before  it. 

Darius,  after  having  set  his  army  in  battle  array, 
made  his  horse  cros«  the  river  again,  and  despatched 
the  greatest  part  of  them  towards  the  sea  against  Par- 
menio, because  they  could  fight  on  that  spot  with  the 
greates'.  hd vantage:  the  rest  of  his  cavalry  he  sent  to 
the  left  towards  the  mountain.  However,  finding  that 
tl«ese  would  be  of  no  service  on  that  side,  because  of 
the  too  great  narrowness  of  the  spot,  he  caused  a  great 
part  of  them  to  wheel  about  to  the  right.  As  for 
himself,  he  took  his  post  in  the  centre  of  his  army, 
pursuant  to  the  custom  of  the  Persian  monarchs. 

Alexander,  observing  that  most  of  the  enemy's  horse 
was  to  oppose  his  left  wing,  which  consisted  only  of 
those  of  Peloponnesus,  and  of  some  other  allies,  de- 
tached Immediately  to  it  the  Thessalian  cavalry, 
which  he  caused  to  wheel  round  behind  his  batta'l- 
Jons,  to  prevent  their  being  seen  by  the  Parbarians. 
On  the  same  side  (the  left)  he  posted  befr  re  his  foot, 
the  Cretan  bowmen,  and  the  Thracians  of  Sitalces  (a 
king  of  Thrace,)  who  were  covered  by  the  horse. 
The  foreigners  in  his  service  were  behind  all  the  rest. 

Perceiving  that  his  right  wing  did  not  extend  so 
far  as  the  left  of  the  Persians,  which  might  surround 
and  attack  it  in  flank,  he  drew  from  the  centre  of  his 
army  Vvo  regiments  of  foot,  which  he  detached  thi- 
ther, v'.h  orders  for  them  to  march  behind,  to  pre- 
rent  their  being  seen  by  the  enemy.  He  also  rein- 
forced that  wing  with  the  forces  which  he  had  op- 
posed to  the  Barbariann  on  the  mountains;  for,  seeing 
they  did  not  come  down,  he  made  the  Agrians  and 
some  other  bowmen  attack  them,  and  drive  them  to- 
wards the  summit  of  it ;  so  that  he  left  only  300  horse 
to  keep  them  in  check,  and  sent  the  rest,  as  I  ob- 


i  Agria  ww  a  city  between  the  mountain!  Hamas  and 
Rhodope. 


served,  to  reinforce  his  right  wing,  which  by  this 
means  extended  farther  than  that  of  the  Persians. 

The  two  armies  being  thus  drawn  up  in  order  of 
battle,  Alexander  marched  very  slowly,  that  hi*  sol- 
diers might  take  a  little  breath;  so  that  it  was  sup- 
posed they  would  not  engage  till  very  late:  for  Da- 
rius still  continued  with  hi:;  army  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  in  order  not  to  lose  the  advantageous  situa- 
tion of  his  post;  and  even  caused  such  parts  of  the 
shore  as  were  not  craggy  to  be  secured  with  palisa- 
does,  whence  the  Macedonians  concluded  lh»t  he  was 
already  afraid  of  being  defeated.  The  two  armies 
being  come  in  sight,  Alexander,  riding  along  the 
ranks,  called,  by  their  several  names,  the  principal 
officers  both  of  the  Macedonians  and  foreigners;  and 
exhorted  the  soldiers  to  signalize  themselves,  speak- 
ing to  tach  nation  according  to  its  peculiar  genius 
and  disposition.  To  the  Macedonians  he  represent- 
ed, "  the  victories  they  had  formerly  gained  in  Eu- 
rope; the  still  recent  glory  of  the  battle  of  the  Gra- 
nicus;  the  great  number  of  cities  and  provinces  they 
had  left  behind  them,  all  which  they  had  subdued." 

He  added,  that  "one  single  victory  would  make 
them  masters  of  the  Persian  empire;  and  that  the 
spoils  of  the  Fast  would  be  the  reward  of  their  brave- 
ry and  toils."  The  Greeks  he  animated,  "  by  the  re- 
membrance of  the  many  calamities  the  Persians  (those 
irreconcilable  enemies  to  Greece)  had  brought  upon 
them;  and  set  before  them  the  famous  battles  of  Ma- 
rathon, of  Thermopylae,  of  Salami*,  of  Platrene,  and 
the  many  others  by  which  they  had  acquired  immor- 
tal glory."  He  bid  the  lllyrians  and  Thracians.  na- 
tions who  used  to  subsist  by  plunder  and  rapine, 
"  view  the  enemy's  army,  every  part  of  which  shone 
with  gold  and  purple,  and  was  not  loaded  so  much 
with  arms  as  with  booty:  that  they  therefore  should 
push  forward  (they  who  were  men,)  and  strip  all  those 
women  of  their  ornaments;  and  exchange  their  moun- 
tain?, covered  perpetually  with  ice  and  snow,  for  the 
smiling  plains  and  rich  fields  of  Persia."  The  mo- 
ment he  had  ended,  the  whole  array  set  up  a  shout, 
and  eagerly  desired  to  be  led  on  directly  against  the 
enemy. 

Alexander  had  advanced  at  first  very  slowly,  to 
prevent  the  ranks,  or  the  front  of  his  phalanx,  from 
breaking,  and  halted  by  intervals:  but  when  he  was 
got  within  bow-shot,  he  commanded  all  his  right  wing 
to  plunge  impetuously  into  the  river,  purposely  that 
they  might  surpise  the  barbarians,  come  sooner  to  a 
close  engagement,  and  be  less  exposed  to  the  enemy's 
arrows;  in  all  of  which  he  was  very  successful.  Both 
sides  fought  with  the  utmost  bravery  and  resolution; 
and  being  now  forced  to  fight  close,  they  charged  on 
both  sides  sword  in  hand,  when  a  dreadful  slaughter 
ensued;  for  they  engaged  man  to  man,  each  aiming 
the"  point  of  his  sword  at  the  face  of  his  opponent. 
Alexander,  who  performed  the  duty  both  of  a  private 
soldier  and  of  a  commander,  wishing  nothing  so  ar- 
dently as  the  glory  of  killing,  with  his  own  hand,  Da- 
rius, who  being  seated  on  a  high  chariot,  was  conspi- 
cuous to  the  whole  arm}';  and  by  that  means  was  a 
powerful  object,  both  to  encourage  his  own  soldiers 
to  defend,  and  the  enemy  to  attack  him.  And  now 
the  battle  grew  more  furious  and  bloody  than  before; 
so  that  a  great  number  of  Persian  noblemen  wer« 
killed.  Each  side  fought  with  incredible  bravery. 
Oxathres,  brother  to  Darius,  observing  that  Alexan- 
der was  going  to  charge  that  monarch  with  the  utmost 
vigour,  rushed  before  his  chariot  with  the  horse  under 
his  command,  and  distinguished  himself  above  all  th« 
rest.  The  horses  that  drew  Darius's  chariot,  being 
quite  covered  with  wounds,  began  to  prance  about; 
and  shook  the  yoke  so  violently,  that  they  were  upon 
the  point  of  overturning  the  king,  who,  afraid  of  falling 
alive  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  leaped  down,  and 
mounted  another  chariot.  The  rest,  observing  this, 
fled  as  fast  as  possible,  and  throwing  down  their  arms, 
made  the  best  of  their  wny.  Alexander  had  received 
a  slight  wound  in  his  thigh,  but  happily  it  was  not 
attended  with  ill  consequences. 

Whilit  part  of  the  Macedonian  infantry  (posted  to 
the  right)  were  pursuing  the  advantage  they  had 
0-ained  against  the  Persians,  the  remainder  ol  them 
2  V 


642 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


who  engnged  the  Greeks  met  with  greater  resistance. 
These  observing  that  the  body  of  inlantry  in  question 
were  no  longer  covered  by  the  right  wing  of  Alexan- 
der's arinv  which  was  pursuing  the  enemy,  came  and 
attacked  "it  in  flank.  The  engagement  was  very 
bloody,  a..d  victory  a  long  time  doubtful.  The  Greek* 
endeavoured  to  push  the  Macedonians  into  the  river. 
and  to  recover  the  disorder  into  which  the  It  ft  wing 
had  been  thrown.  The  Macedonians  also  signalized 
themselves  with  the  utmost  bravery,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve the  advantage  which  Alexander  had  just  before 
gamed  and  support  the  honour  of  their  phalanx,  which 
had  always  been  considered  as  invincible.  There 
was  also  a  |>«rpetual  jealousy  between  these  two  na- 
tions (the  Greeks  and  Macedonian*)  whirh  greatly 
ncreased  their  courage,  and  made  the  resistance  on 
ach  side  very  vigorous.  On  Alexander's  side,  Ptole- 
my the  ton  of  Seleucus  lost  his  life,  with  120  other 
considerable  officers,  who  all  had  behaved  with  the 
utmost  gallantry. 

In  the  mean  time  the  right  wing,  which  was  victo- 
rious under  its  monarch,  after  defeating  all  who  op- 
posed it,  wheeled  to  the  left  against  those  Greeks 
who  were  fighting  with  the  rest  of  the  Macedonian 
phalanx,  charged  them  vigorously;  and  attacking 
them  in  flank,  entirely  routed  them. 

At  the  very  beginning  of  the  engagement,  the  Per- 
sian cavalry  which  was  in  the  right  wing  (without 
waiting  for  their  being  attacked  by  the  Macedonians) 
had  crossed  the  river,  and  rushed  upon  the  Thessalian 
horse,  several  of  whose  squadrons  were  broken  by  it. 
Upon  this,  the  remainder  of  the  latter,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  impetuosity  of  the  first  charge,  and  induce 
the  Persians  to  break  their  ranks,  made  a  feint  of  re- 
tiring, as  if  terrified  bv  the  prodigious  numbers  of 
the  enemv.  The  Persians  seeing  this,  were  filled 
with  bold  ness  and  confidence,  and  thereupon  the  great- 
«5l  part  of  them  advancing  without  order  or  precau- 
tion, as  to  a  certain  victory,  had  no  thoughts  but  of 
pursuing  the  enemy.  Upon  this,  the  Thessalians 
teeing  them  in  such  confusion,  faced  about  on  a  sud- 
den, and  renewed  the  fight  with  fresh  ardour.  The 
Persians  made  a  brave  defence,  till  they  saw  Darius 

Cut  to  flight,  and  the  Greeks  cut  to  pieces  by  the  pha- 
mx 

The  routing  of  the  Persian  cavalry  completed  the 
defeat  of  the  army.  The  Persian  horse  suffered  very 
much  in  the  retreat,  from  the  great  weight  of  the 
arms  of  their  riders;  not  to  mention,  that  as  they 
retired  in  disorder,  and  crowded  in  great  numbers 
through  the  defiles,  they  bruised  and  unhorsed  one 
another,  and  were  more  annoyed  bv  their  own  sol- 
diers than  bv  the  enemy.  Besides  the  Thessalian 
cavalry  pursued  them  with  so  much  fury,  that  they 
were  as  much  shattered  as  the  infantry  and  lost  as  ma- 
ny men. 

"With  regard  to  Darius,  as  we  before  observed,  the 
instant  he  saw  his  left  wing  broke,  he  was  one  of  the 
first  who  fled  in  his  chariot;  but  getting  afterwards 
into  craggy  rugged  places,  he  mounted  on  horseback, 
throwing  down  his  bow,  shield,  and  royal  mantle. 
Alexander,  however,  did  not  attempt  to  pursue  him, 
till  he  saw  his  phalanx  had  conquered  the  Greeks, 
and  the  Persian  horse  put  to  flight;  and  this  allowed 
the  fugitive  monarch  to  gain  the  start  of  his  pursuers 
considerably. 

About  8000  of  the  Greeks  that  were  in  Darius's 
•en-ice  (with  their  officers  at  their  head,  who  were  ve- 
ry brave,)  retired  over  the  mountains,  towards  Tripoli 
iu  Syria,  where,  finding  the  transports  which  had 
brought  them  from  Lesbos  upon  dry  ground,  they  fit- 
ted out  as  many  of  them  «s  suited  their  purpose,  and 
ournt  the  rest,  to  prevent  their  being  pursued. 

As  for  the  Barbarians,  having  exerted  themselves 
with  bravery  enough  in  the  first  attack,  they  after- 
wards gave  way  in  the  most  shameful  manner;  and 
being  intent  upon  nothing  but  saving  themselves,  they 
took  different  wavs.  Some  struck  into  the  high  road 
which  led  directly  to  Persia,  other*  ran  into  wood* 
and  lonely  mountains;  and  a  small  number  returned 
to  their  camp,  which  the  victorious  enemy  had  alrea- 
dy taken  and  plundered. 

Sysigaiubis,  Dariu*'*  mother,  and  that  monarch's 


queen,  who  was  also  his  sister,  had  remained  in  M 
with  two  of  the  king's  daughters,  a  son  of  his  (a  child) 
and  some  Persian  ladies.  For  the  rest  of  the  women 
had  been  carried  to  Damascus,  with  part  of  Darius'f 
treasure,  and  all  such  things  as  contributed  onlv  to 
the  luxury  and  magnificence  of  his  court.  No  nior* 
than  3000  talents'  were  found  in  his  camp;  but  lh« 
rest  of  the  treasme  fell  afterwards  into  the  hands  of 
Parmenio,  at  his  Inking  the  city  of  Damascus. 

Alexander,  wearv  of  pursuing  Darius,  seeing  night 
draw  on,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  bin   to 
overtake  that  monarch,  returned  to  the  enemy  s -"amp, 
which  his  soldiers  had  just  before  plundered.     Such 
was  the    end    of  this    memorable   battle,  fcught  th« 
fourth    year   of  Alexander's    reign. 
The  Persians,*  either  in  the  engage-         A.  M.  3672. 
inent  or  the  rout,  lost  a  great  num-     Ant.  J.  C.  332 
ber  of  thj^ir  forces,  both  horse  and 
foot:  but  very  few  were  killed  on  Alexander's  side. 

That  very  evening  he  invited  the  grandees  of  his 
court,  and  his  chief  officers,  to  a  feast,  at  which  he 
himself  was  present,  notwithstanding  the  wound  he 
had  received,  it  having  only  grazed  the  skin.  But 
thev  were  no  sooner  set  down  at  table,  than  they  heard 
from  a  neighbouring  tent,  a  great  noise,  intermixed 
with  groans,  which  frighted  all  the  company;  inso- 
much that  the  soldiers,  who  were  upon  guard  before 
the  king's  tent,  ran  to  their  arms,  being  afraid  of  an 
insurrection.  But  it  was  found,  that  the  persons  who 
made  this  clamour  were  the  mother  awl  wife  of  Da- 
rius, and  the  rest  of  the  captive  ladies,  who,  supposing 
that  prince  dead,  bewailed  his  loss,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  Barbarians,  with  dreadful  cries  and 
howlings.  A  eunuch,  who  had  seen  Darius's  rloak 
in  the  hands  of  a  soldier,  imagining  he  had  killed 
him,  and  afterwards  stript  him  of  that  garment,  had 
carried  them  that  false  account. 

It  is  said  that  Alexander,  upon  being  told  the  rea- 
son of  this  false  alarm,  could  not  retrain  from  tears, 
when  he  considered  the  sad  calamity  of  Darius,  and 
the  tender  disposition  of  those  princesses,  who  seem- 
ed to  have  forgotten  their  own  misfortunes,  and  to  b« 
sensible  of  his  alone.  He  thereupon  sent  Leonatus, 
one  of  his  chief  courtiers,  to  assure  them,  that  the 
man  whose  death  they  bewailed  was  alive.  Leonatus 
taking  some  soldiers  with  him,  came  to  the  tent  of 
the  princesses,  and  sent  word,  that  he  was  come  to  pay 
them  a  visit  in  the  king's  name.  The  persons  who 
were  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  seeing  a  band 
of  armed  men.  imagined  that  their  mistresses  were 
undone;  and  accordingly  ran  into  the  tent,  crving 
aloud,  that  their  last  hour  was  come,  and  that  sol- 
diers were  despatched  to  murder  them;  so  that  these 
princesses  being  seized  with  the  utmost  distraction, 
did  not  make  the  least  answer,  but  waited  in  deep 
silence  for  the  orders  of  the  conqueror.  At  last, 
Leonatus  having  staid  a  long  time,  and  seeing  no  one 
appear,  left  his  soldiers  at  the  door,  and  came  into  the 
tent;  but  their  terror  increased  when  they  saw  a  man 
enter  among  them  without  being  introduced.  They 
thereupon  threw  themselves  at  his  feet,  and  entreateJ, 
that  "before  he  put  them  to  death,  they  might  be  al- 
lowed to  bury  Darius  after  the  manner  of  their  coun- 
try; and  that  when  they  had  paid  this  last  duty  to 
their  king,  they  should  die  contented."  Leonatus 
answered,  that  "  Darius  was  living;  and  that,  so  far 
from  giving  them  any  offence,  they  should  be  treated 
as  queens,  and  live  in  their  former  splendour."  Sy- 
sigambis  hearing  this,  began  to  recover  her  spirits, 
and  permitted  Leonatus  to  give  her  his  hand,  to  raise 
her  from  the  ground. 

The  next  day  Alexander,  after  visiting  the  wound- 
ed, caused  the  last  honours  to  be  paid  to  the  dead, 
in  presence  of  the  whole  army,  drawn  up  :n  order 
of  battle,  in  their  richest  accoutrements.  He  treated 
the  Persians  of  distinction  in  the  same  manner,  nnd 
permitted  Darius's  mother  to  bury  whatever  persons 


«  About  440.000/.  storlin?. 

»  Acrcirdin™  toQuintus  Curtius  and  Arrian,  the  Persians 
lo*t  100.00(1  f.xit,  nnd  10.000  horse.  Arid  the  former  hiato. 
rian  relate*,  that  no  more  than  150  liorse  and  300  foot  were 
lost  on  Alexander's  side,  which  docs  not  seem  rerr  pro- 
bable. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


the  pleased,  according  to  the  customs  and  ceremonies 
•jractised  in  her  country.  However,  this  prudent 
princess  used  that  permission  in  regard  only  to  a  few 
who  were  her  near  relations;  and  that  with  such  o 
modesty  and  reserve  as  she  thought  suited  her 
pre-«  nl  condition.  The  king  testified  his  joy  a'id 
gratitude  to  the  whole  army,  especially  to  the  chief 
otiVrrs,  whose  actions  he  applauded  in  the  strongest 
terms,  as  well  those  of  which  he  himself  had  been 
an  e\e-\\itness,  as  those  which  had  been  only  related 
to  him;  and  he  made  presents  to  all,  according  to 
their  inert  and  rank. 

After  Alexander  had  performed  these  several 
doties,  truly  worthy  of  a  great  monarch,  he  sent  a 
message  to  the  queens,  to  inform  them  that  he  was 
coming  to  pay  them  a  visit;  and  accordingly,  com- 
manoir.g  all  his  train  to  withdraw,  he  entered  the 
tent,  accompanied  onU  by  Hephxstion.  He  was  his 
favourite;  and  as  they  had  been  brought  up  together, 
the  king  revealed  all  his  secrets  to  him;  and  nobody 
else  dared  to  speak  so  freely  to  him;'  but  even 
Heph.e.-lion  made  so  cautious  and  discreet  a  use  of 
that  liberty,  that  he  seemed  to  take  it,  not  so  much 
out  of  inclination,  as  from  a  desire  to  obey  the  king, 
who  would  have  it  so.  They  were  of  the  same  age, 
hut  Hephaestion  was  taller,  so  that  the  queens  took 
him  at  fir«t  for  the  king,  and  paid  him  their  respects 
as  such:  but  some  captive  eunuchs  showing  them 
Alexander,  Sysigambis  fell  prostrate  before  him,  and 
begged  his  pardon;  declaring,  that  as  she  had  nevt  r 
seen  him,  she  hoped  that  consideration  would  plead 
her  apology.  The  king,  raising  her  fror.i  the  ground, 
replied,  "  Dear  mother,  you  are  not  mistaken,  for  he 
also  is  Alexander:"  a  tine  expression,*  which  dots 
honour  to  both!  Had  Alexander  always  thought  and 
acted  in  this  manner,  he  would  have  justly  merited 
the  title  of  Great;  but  fortune  had  not  yet  corrupted 
his  mind.9  He  bore  her  at  first  with  moderation  and 
wisdom;  but  at  last  she  overpowered  him,  and  he 
became  unable  to  resist  her. 

>m!)is,  strongly  affected  with  these  marks  of 
toothless  and  humanity,  could  not  forbear  testifying 
her  gratitude  upon  that  account. — "Great  prince," 
said  she  to  him,  "what  words  shall  I  find  to  express 
my  thank*,  in  such  a  manner  as  may  answer  your 
generosity!  You  call  me  your  mother,  and  honour 
me  still  with  the  title  of  queen,  whereas  I  confess 
myself  your  captive.  I  know  what  I  have  been,  and 
what  I  now  am.*  I  know  the  whole  extent  of  my 
pa<st  grandeur,  and  find  I  can  support  all  the  weigh't 
of  my  present  ill  fortune.  But  it  will  be  glorious  for 
you,  as  you  now  have  an  absolute  power  over  us,  to 
make  us  feel  it  by  your  clemency  only,  and  not  by- 
ill  treatment." 

The  king,  after  comforting  the  princesses,  took 
Darius's  son  in  his  arms.  The  little  child,  without 
discovering  the  least  terror,  embraced  Alexander, 
who  being  affected  with  his  confidence,  and  turning 
about  to  Hephaestion,  said  to  him:  "O  that  Darius 
had  had  some  portion  of  his  tender  disposition!'" 

It  is  certain  that  Alexander,  in  this  beginning  of 
bis  career,  behaved  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  sur- 
passed, in  clemency  and  goodness,  all  the  kings  his 
predecessors;  and  proved  himself  superior  to  a 
passion  which  conquers  and  enslaves  the  strongest. 
Darius's  consort  was  the  most  lively  princess  in  the 
worl  I,  as  Darius  himself  was  the  most  beautiful  of 
princes,  and  of  a  vi  TV  tall  and  mo^t  majestic  shape; 
and  the  princesses  their  daughters  resembled  thfin. 
They  were,  says  Plutarch,  in  Alexander's  camp,  not 
•s  in  that  of  an  enemy,  but  as  in  a  sacred  temple, 
•nd  a  sanctuary  assigned  for  the  a«ylum  of  chastity 
and  modesty,  in  which  all  the  princesses  lived  so 


>  Libertntis  quoque  in  eo  admunendo  non  alius  jus  habe- 
bat ;  quod  lamcu  ita  usurpabat,  at  masi*  t,  rr<re  permitsum 
qusm  vindicatum  nb  eo  videretur.  Quint.  Curt. 

»  O  donum  inclytse  vocis,  danti  pariler  aique  accipienti 
«peoio«um  !  Val.  Max.  I.  iv.  c.  7. 

»  Sed  nondum  fortuna  se  animoejux  infuderat.  Ilaque 
•rientem  earn  moderate  et  prudenter  tulit :  ad  ullimum  mag- 
nitudincm  cju«  non  cepit.  Quint.  Curt. 

*  Et   pr«eteritcB  fortune   fasti<rium    cap;o,   et 
Jugum  pati  possum.     Quint   Curt. 


praentia 


retired,  that  they  were  not  seen  by  any  person,  not 
i!id  any  one  dare  to  approach  their  apartments. 

\Ve  even  find,  that  after  the  first  visit  above 
mentioned,  which  was  a  respectful  and  cernnunious 
one,  Alexander,  to  avoid  exposing  himstli'to  the 
dangers  of  human  frailty,  took  a  solemn  resolution 
never  to  visit  Darius's  queen  any  more.  He  himself 
informs  us  of  this  memorable  circumslance,*  in  a 
letur  written  by  him  to  Parmenio,  in  which  he  com- 
manded him  to  put  to  death  certain  Macedonians 
wlio  had  forced  the  wives  of  some  foreign  soldiers. 
In  this  letter,  the  following  words  occur:  "  ]-\>r,  as 
to  myself,  it  will  be  found  that  I  neither  evt-n  -;iw, 
nor  would  see,  the  wife  of  Darius;  and  did  not  suffer 
any  person  to  speak  of  her  beauty  before  me."  We 
are  to  remember  that  Alexander'was  young,  victor*, 
ous,  and  tree,  that  is,  not  engaged  in  marriage,  as  has 
been  observed  of  the  first  Scipio  on  a  like  occa- 
sion.6 Eljnvenis,  et  ccelebs,  et  victor. 

To  conclude,  he  treated  these  princesses  with  such 
humanity,  that  nothing  hut  the  remembrance  that 
they  were  captives,  could  have  made  them  sensible 
of  their  calamity;  and  of  all  the  advantages  they 
possessed  before,  nothing  was  wanting  with  regard 
to  Alexander,  but  that  trust  and  confidence,  which 
no  one  can  repose  in  an  enemy,  how  kindly  soever 
he  behaves. 

SECTION  VI.— ALEXANDER  MARCHES  VICTORIOUS 
INTO  SYRIA.  THE  TREASURES  DEPOSITED  IN  DA- 
MASCUS ARE  DELIVERED  TO  HIM.  DARIUS  WRITES 
A  LETTER  TO  ALEXANDER  IN  THE  MOST  HAUGHTY 
TERMS.  WHICH  HE  ANSWERS  IN  THE  SAM E  STYLE. 
THE  GATES  OF  THE  CITY  OF  SIDON  ARE  OPENED  TO 
HIM.  AIUXIU  NYMUSIS  PLACED  UPON  THE  THRONE 
AGAINST  HIS  WILL.  ALEXANDER  LAYS  SIEGE  TO 
TYRE,  WHICH,  AFTER  HAVING  MADE  A  VIGOROUS 
DEFENCE  OF  SEVEN  MONTHS,  IS  TAKEN  BY  STURM. 
THE  FULFILLING  OF  DIFFERENT  PROPHECIES  RE- 
LATING TO  TYRE. 

ALEXANDER  set  out  towards  Syria,' 
after  having  consecrated  three  altars  A..  M.  3672 
on  the  river  Pinarus,  the  first  to  Jupi-  Ant.  J.  C.  332 
ter,  the  second  to  Hercules,  and  the 
third  to  Minerva,  as  so  many  monuments  of  his  vic- 
tory. He  had  sent  Parmenio  to  Damascus,  in  which 
Darius's  treasure  was  deposited.8  The  governor  of 
the  city,  betraying  his  sovereign,  from  whom  he  had 
now  no  farther  expectations,  wrote  to  Alexander  to 
acquaint  him,  that  he  was  ready  to  deliver  up  into 
his  hands  all  the  treasure  and  other  rich  stores  of 
Darius.  But  being  desirous  of  covering  his  treason 
with  a  specious  pretext,  he  pretended  that  he  was  not 
secure  in  the  city,  so  caused,  by  day-break,  all  the 
money  and  the  richest  things  in  it  to  be  put  on  nien'i 
backs,  and  fled  away  with  the  whole,  seemingly  with 
intention  to  secure  them,  but  in  reality  to  deliver 
them  up  to  the  enemy,  as  he  had  agreed  with  Par- 
menio, who  had  opened  the  letter  addressed  to  the 
king.  At  the  first  sight  of  the  forces  which  this 
general  headed,  those  who  carried  the  burdens  being 
frighted,  threw  them  down,  and  fled  away,  as  did  the 
soldiers  who  convoyed  them,  and  the  governor  him- 
self, who  appeared  more  terrified  than  the  rest.  On 
this  occasion  immense  riches  were  seen  scattered  op 
and  down  the  fields;  all  the  gold  and  silver  designed 
to  pay  so  great  an  army:  the  splendid  equipages  of 
so  many  great  lords  and  ladies;  the  golden  vases  and 
bridles,  magnificent  tents,  and  carriages  abandoned  bj 
their  drivers;  in  a  word,  whatever  the  long  pros- 
perity and  frugality  of  so  many  kings  had  amassed 
during  many  ages,  was  abandoned  to  the  conqueror. 

But  the  most  moving  part  of  this  sad  scene  was  to 
see  the  wives  of  the  satraps  and  grandees  of  Persia, 
most  of  whom  dragged  their  little  children  after 
them;  so  much  the  greater  objects  of  compassion,  as 
they  were  less  sensible  of  their  misfortune.  Among 


»  Plot,  in  Alex.  •  Val.  Max.  I.  iv.  c.  3. 

'  Died.  I.  xvii.  p.  517,  518.  Arrian.  1.  ii.  p.  83—86.  Plot 
in  Alex.  p.  t>?>*.  Quint.  Curt.  I.  iv  c.  1.  Justin.  I.  n.  c.  10. 

•  [The  march  of  Parmenio  to  Darnavru*  must  have  bean 
very  rapid,  as  he  accomplished  it  in  four  days,  the  direct 
distance  from  Iuu*  being  at  least  '.-JO  British  uiliu.j 


M4 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


these  were  three  young  princesses,  daughters  of 
Orhus,  who  had  reigned  before  Darius;  the  widow 
of  this  Ochus;  the  daughter  of  Oxathres,  brother  to 
Darius;  the  wife  of  Artabazus.  the  greatest  lord  of  the 
court,  and  his  son  llioneus.  There  were  also  taken  pri- 
soner* the  wife  and  son  of  Pharnabazus,  whom  the  king 
had  appointed  admiral  of  all  the  coasts;  three  daugh- 
ters of  Mentor;  the  wife  and  son  of  Meinnon,  that  il- 
lustrious general ;  indeed,  there  was  scarcely  one  noble 
family  in  all  Persia  but  shared  in  this  calamity. 

There  also  were  found  in  Damascus  the  ambassa- 
dors of  the  Grecian  cities,  particularly  those  of  Lace- 
daemon  and  Athens,  whom  Darius  thought  he  had 
lodged  in  a  safe  asylum,  when  he  put  thtm  under  the 
protection  of  that  traitor. 

Besides  money  and  r'ate,  which  was  afterwards 
coined  and  amounted  to  immense  sums,  30,000  men 
•and  7000  beasts  laden  with  baggage  were  taken.  Par- 
menin.1  in  his  letter  to  Alexander,  informs  him  that 
he  found  in  Damascus  329  of  Darius's  concubines,  all 
admirably  well  skilled  in  music;  and  also  a  multi- 
tude of  officers,  whose  business  was  to  regulate  and 
prepare  every  thing  relating  to  entertainments;  such 
as  to  make  wreathes,  to  prepare  perfumes  and  essen- 
ces, to  dress  viands,  to  make  the  pastry,  to  preside 
over  the  wine  cellars,  to  give  out  the  wine,  and 
similar  offices.  There  were  492  of  these  officers;  a 
train  worthy  a  prince  who  runs  to  meet  his  ruin! 

Darius,  who  a  few  hours  before  was  at  the  head  of 
so  mighty  and  splendid  an  army,  and  who  came  into 
the  field  mounted  on  a  chariot,  with  the  pride  of  a 
conqueror,  rather  than  with  the  equipnge  of  a  war- 
rior, was  flying  over  plains,  which,  from  being  before 
covered  with  the  infinite  multitude  of  his  forces,  now 
appeared  like  a  desert  of  vast  solitude.  This  ill-fated 
prince  rode  swiftly  the  whole  night,  accompanied  by 
a  very  few  attendants:  for  all  had  not  taken  the  same 
road,  and  most  of  those  who  accompanied  him  could 
not  keep  up  with  him,  as  he  often  changed  his  horses. 
At  last  he  arrived  at  Sochos,2  where  he  assembled 
the  remains  of  his  army,  which  amounted  only  to  4000 
men,  including  Persians  as  well  as  foreigners ;  and  from 
hence  he  made  all  possible  haste  to  Thapsacus,  in  order 
to  have  the  Euphrates  ix-tween  him  and  Alexander. 

In  the  mean  tim»  Parmenio  having  carried  all  the 
booty  into  Damascus,  the  king  commanded  him  to 
take  care  of  it,  and  likewise  of  the  captives.  Most 
of  the  cities  of  Syria  surrendered  at  the  first  approach 
of  the  conqueror.  Being  arrived  at  Marathos,  he  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Darius,  in  which  he  stvled  hiru- 
sel/"  king,  without  bestowing  that  title  on  Alexander. 
He  commanded  rather  than  entreated  him,  "  to  ask 
any  sum  of  money  he  should  think  proper,  by  way  of 
ransom  for  his  mother,  his  wile,  and  children:  that 
with  regard  to  their  dispute  for  the  empire,  he  might, 
if  he  thought  proper,  decide  it  in  one  general  battle, 
to  which  both  parties  should  bring  an  equal  number 
of  troops;  but  that  in  case  he  were  still  capable  of 
complying  with  good  advice,  he  would  recommend 
to  him  to  rest  contented  with  the  kingdom  of  his  ances- 
tors, and  not  invade  that  of  another;  that  they  might 
henceforward  live  as  good  friends  and  faithful  allies; 
that  he  himself  was  ready  to  swear  to  the  observance 
of  these  article*,  and  to  receive  Alexander's  oath." 

This  letter,  which  breathed  so  unseasonable  a  pride 
•nd  haughtiness,  exceedingly  offended  Alexander. 
He  therefore  wrote  the  following  answer:  "Alexan- 
der the  king  to  Darius,  the  ancient  Darius,  whose 
name  you  assume,  in  former  times  entirely  ruined  the 
Greeks,  who  inhabit  the  coasts  of  the  Heflespont,  anH 
the  lonians.  our  ancient  colonies.  He  next  crossed 
the  sea  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  army,  and  carried 
the  war  into  the  very  heart  of  Macedonia  and  Greece. 
After  him,  Xerxes  made  another  descent  with  a  dread- 
ful number  of  Barbarians,  in  order  to  fight  us:  and 
having  been  overcome  in  a  naval  engagement,  he  left, 
at  his  retiring,  Mardonius  in  Greece,  who  plundered 
o:ir  citif*.  and  laid  waste  our  plains.  But  who  ha? 
M"t  hearJ  that  Philip,  my  father,  was  assassinated  by 
wretches  suborned  thereto  by  your  partisans,  in  hope's 


i   AthiMi.  I.  xiii.  p.  007. 

*  This  pity  was  two  or  three  days'  journey  from  the  plac 
where  the  battle  was  fought. 


of  a  great  reward?  For  it  is  customary  with  the  Pel 
sians  to  undertake  impious  wars,  and  when  armed  ia 
the  field,  to  set  a  price  upon  the  heads  of  their  ene- 
mies. And  even  you  yourself,  very  lately ,  though  at 
the  head  of  a  vast  army,  promised"  nevertheless  1000 
talents  to  any  person  who  should  kill  me.  I  therefore 
only  defend  myself,  and  am  not  the  aggressor.  And 
consequently  the  gods,  who  always  declare  for  th« 
just  cause,  have  lavoured  my  anus;  and,  aided  by 
their  protection,  I'  have  subjected  a  great  part  of  Asia, 
and  defeated  you,  Darius,  in  a  pitched  battle.  How- 
ever, though  I  ought  not  to  grant  any  request  you 
make,  since  yon  have  not  acted  fairly  in  this  war' 
nevertheless,  in  case  you  will  appear  before  me  in  a 
supplicating  posture,  1  will  give  you  my  word,  that  1 
will  restore  to  you,  without  any  ransom,  your  mother, 
your  wife,  and  children.  I  will  let  you  see  that  I 
know  how  to  conquer,  and  to  oblige  the  conquered.' 
If  you  are  afraid  of  surrendering  yourself  to  me,  I 
now  assure  you,  upon  my  honour,  that  you  may  do  it 
without  the  least  danger.  But  remember,  when  vou 
next  write  to  me,  that  you  write  not  only  to  a  king, 
but  to  your  king."  Thersippus  was  ordered  to  carry 
this  let'ter. 

Alexander,  marching  from  thence  into  Phoenicia,  the 
citizens  of  Byblos  opened  their  gates  to  him.  Every 
one  submitted  as  he  advanced,  but  no  people  did  this 
with  greater  pleasure  than  the  Sidonians.  \Ve  have 
seen  in  what  manner  Ochns  had  destroyed  their  city 
eighteen  years  before,  and  put  all  the  inhabitants  oi  it 
to  the  sword.  After  he  was  returned  into  Persia, 
those  of  the  citizens,  who,  upon  account  of  their  traf- 
fic, or  for  some  other  cause,  had  been  absent,  and  by 
that  means  had  escaped  the  massacre,  returned  hither, 
and  rebuilt  their  city.  But  they  had  retained  such  an 
abhorrence  of  the  Persians,  on  account  of  this  baiba- 
rous  act,  that  they  were  overjoyed  at  this  opportunity 
to  throw  off  their  yoke:  and  consequently  they  wire 
the  first  in  that  country  who  sent  to  make  their  sub- 
mission to  the  conqueror,  in  opposition  to  Strato 
their  king,  who  had  declared  in  favour  of  Darius. 
Alexander  dethroned  him,  and  permitted  Hephxstion 
to  elect  in  his  stead  whomsoever  of  the  Skionians  lie 
should  judge  worthy  of  so  exalted  a  station. 

This  favourite  was  quartered  at  the  house  of  twc 
young  men  who  were  brothers,  and  of  the  most  con- 
siderable family  in  that  city;  to  these  he  offered  the 
crown;  but  they  refused  it,  telling  him,  that  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  their  country,  no  person  could  as- 
cend the  throne  unles«  he  were  of  the  blood  roral. 
Hephrestion  admiring  this  greatness  of  soul,  which 
could  contemn  what  others  strive  to  obtain  by  fire  and 
sword :  "  Continue,"  says  he  to  them,  "  in  this  way  of 
thinking:  you,  who  are  the  first  that  ever  were  sensi- 
ble that  it  is  much  more  glorious  to  refuse  a  diadem 
than  to  accept  it.  However,  name  me  some  person 
of  the  royal  family,  who  may  remember,  when  he  is 
king,  that  it  was  you  who  set  the  crown  on  his  Iw^ad." 
The  brothers  observing  that  several  through  excessive 
ambition  aspired  to  this  high  station,  and  to  obtain  it 
paid  a  servile  court  to  Alexander's  favourites,  declar- 
ed that  they  did  not  know  any  person  mote  worthy 
of  the  diadeni  than  one  Abdolonymu.-i,  descended, 
though  remotely,  from  the  royal  line;  but  who  at  lh« 
same  time  was  so  poor,  that  he  was  obliged  to  get  h'w 
bread  by  day  labour  in  a  garden  without  the  city. 
His  honesty  and  integrity  had  reduced  him,  as  well 
as  many  more,  to  such  extreme  poverty.  Solely  in- 
tent upon  his  labour  he  did  not  hear  the  clashing  of 
the  arms  which  had  shaken  all  Asia. 

Immediately  the  two  brothers  went  in  search  of 
Abdolonymus,  with  the  royal  garments,  and  found  him 
weeding  his  garden.  They  then  saluted  him  king, 
and  one  of  them  addressed  him  thus:  "You  must 
now  change  your  tatters  for  a  dress  I  have  brought  you. 
Put  off  the  mean  and  contemptible  habit  in  which 
you  have  grown  old  ;*  assume  the  sentiments  of  a 


*  El  vinirere  et  con&nlere  victia  scio.     Q.  Curt. 

«  Cape  Regis  animum.  et  in  earn  fortunam  qua  Hijjnus  ei, 
i.itam  nominemiam  prufrr.  Ei.cuin  in  regali  »olii>  resiHY'rii, 
vila*  rii  risijin-  omnium  rivium  dominas,  cave  oblivisrarii 
hujus  stum<  in  quo  accipis  regoum,  imd  herrulc,  proi>u»T 
quern.  Quint.  Curt. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


545 


prince ;  but  when  you  ere  seated  on  the  throne,  con- 
tinue lo  preserve  the  virtue  which  made  you  worthy 
of  it.  And  when  you  shall  have  ascended  it,  and  by 
that  means  become  the  supreme  dispencer  of  life  and 
death  over  all  your  citizens,  be  sure  never  to  forget 
the  condition  in  which,  or  rather  for  which,  you  were 
elected."  Abdolonjmni  looked  upon  the  whole  as 
a  dream,  and,  unable  to  guess  the  meaning  of  it,  asked 
it'thev  were  not  ashamed  to  ridicule  him  in  that  man- 
ner. But,  as  he  made  a  greater  resistance  than  suited 
their  inclinations  they  themselves  washed  him,  and 
threw  over  his  shoulders  a  purple  robe,  richly  em- 
broidered with  gold;  then,  alter  repeated  oaths  of 
their  being  in  earnest,  they  conducted  him  to  the  pa- 
lace. 

The.  news  of  this  was  immediately  spread  over  the 
whole  city.  Most  of  the  inhabitants  were  overjoyed 
*t  it,  but  some  murmured,  especially  the  rich,  who, 
despising  Abdolnnymus's  former  abject  state,  could 
oot  forbear  showing  their  resentment  upon  that  ac- 
count in  the  king's  court.  Alexander  commanded 
the  new  elected  prince  to  be  sent  for,  and  after  sur- 
veying hi.n  attentively  a  long  time,  spoke  thus: 
"Thv1  air  and  mif-n  do  not  contradict  what  is  related 
of  thy  extraction;  but  I  should  be  glad  to  know  with 
what  frame  of  mind  thou  didst  bear  thy  poverty?" 
"Would  to  the  gods,"  replied  he,  "that  I  may  bear 
this  crown  with  equal  fortitude.  These  hands  have 
procured  me  all  1  desired;  and  whilst  I  possessed 
nothing,  I  xvanted  nothing."  This  answergave  Alex- 
ander a  high  idea  of  Abdolonymus's  virtue;  so  that 
he  presented  him  not  only  with  all  the  rich  furniture 
which  had  belonged  to  Strato,  but  with  part  of  the 
Persian  plunder,  and  likewise  annexed  one  of  the 
neighbouring  provinces  to  his  dominions. 

Syria  and  Phoenicia  were  already  subdued  b}'  the 
Macedonians,  the  city  of  Tyre  excepted.*  This  city 
vtas  justly  entitled  the  queen  of  the  sea,  that  element 
bringing  to  it  the  tribute  of  all  nations.  She  boasted 
^Hieing  the  first  that  invented  navigation, and  taught 
mankind  the  art  of  braving  the  wind  and  waves  by 
the  B--i-tance  of  a  frail  bark.  The  happy  situation 
ct  i  yre,  the  convenience  and  extent  of  its  ports,  the 
character  of  its  inhabitants,  who  were  industrious,  la- 
borious, patient,  and  extremely  courteous  to  stran- 
ger*, invited  thither  merchants  from  all  parts  of  the 
globe;  so  that  it  might  be  tonsidered,  not  so  much 
as  a  city  belonging  to  any  particular  nation,  as  the 
common  city  of  all  nations,  and  the  centre  of  their 
commerce. 

Upon  Alexander's  advancing  towards  it,  the  Tyri- 
ans  sent  him  an  embassy  with  presents  for  himself, 
and  refreshments  for  his  army.  They  were  willing  to 
have  him  for  their  friend,  but  not  tor  their  master; 
to  that  when  he  discovered  a  desire  of  entering  their 
city,  in  order  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  Hercules,  its  tute- 
lar god,  they  refused  him  admission.  Bnt  this  con- 
queror, alter  gaining  so  many  victories,  had  too  haugh- 
ty a  spirit  to  put  up  with  such  an  affront,  and  there- 
upon was  resolved  to  force  them  to  it  by  siege,  which 
they,  on  the  other  side,  were  determined  to  sustain 
with  the  utmost  vigour.  The  spring  was  now  coining 
on.  Tyre  vvas  at  that  time  seated  in  an  island  of  the 
•ea,  about  a  quarter  of  a  league*  from  the  continent. 
It  was  surrounded  with  a  strong  wall  150  feet  high, 
which  the  wives  of  the  sea  washed:  and  the  Cartha- 
ginians (a  colony  from  Tyre.)  a  mighty  people,  and 
sovereigns  of  the  ocean,  whose  ambassadors  were  at 
that  time  in  the  city,  offering  to  Hercules,  according 
to  ancient  custom,  an  annual  sacrifice,  had  engaged 
themselves  to  succour  the  Tyrians.  It  was  this  that 
made  them  so  haughty.  Firmly  determined  not  to 


»  Corporis,  inquit.  habitus  famae  generis  non  repugn.it. 
Bed  libet  scire,  inopiam  qua  pationtia  tuleria.  Turn  Hit; 
U:inam.  inquit,  eodom  nnimo  rejnum*  pati  pogsirn  !  Hae 
manus  mff-rere  desiderio  meo.  Nihil  habeuti,  nihil  defuit. 
Q*int.  Curt. 

»  Diod.  I.  xvii.  p.  51&-S25.  Arrian  1.  ii.  p.  87—100. 
Plut.  in  Alex  p.  678  «t  679.  <l«int.  Curt.  1.  iv.  c.  2,  3,  4. 
Justin.  I.  xi.  i-  10. 

»  Four  furlongs. 

•  The  thought  a  be»utifnl  »nd  jmL  He  coin-den  the  regil  power  u  i  bar- 
tn,  mm  difficult  to  be  home  3j.-«  pcmnj  •  rrfiwm  «at>. 


surrender,  they  fix  machines  on  the  ramparts  and  on 
the  towers,  arm  their  young  men,  and  build  work- 
house? for  the  artificers, of  whom  there  were  great  num- 
bers in  the  city ;  go  that  every  part  resounded  with  the 
noise  of  warlike  preparations.  They  likewise  made 
iron  grapples  to  throw  on  the  enemy's  works,  and  tear 
them  away;  as  also  cramp-irons,  and  such  like  instru- 
ments, invented  for  the  defence  of  cities. 

Alexander  imagined  that  there  were  essential  rea- 
sons why  he  should  possess  himself  of  Tyre.  He  wai 
sensfble  that  he  could  not  invade  Egypt  easily,  »o 
long  as  the  Persians  should  be  masters  of  the  sea,  nor 
pursue  Darius  with  safety,  in  case  he  should  leave  be- 
hind him  so  large  an  extent  of  country,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  which  were  either  enemies,  or  suspected  to 
be  so.  He  likewise  was  afraid,  lest  some  insurrection 
should  break  out  in  Greece;  and  that  his  enemies, 
after  having  retaken  in  his  absence  the  maritime  cities 
of  Asia  Minor,  and  increased  their -fleet,  might  make 
his  country  the  seat  of  war  while  he  was  employed  in 
pursuing  Darius  in  the  plains  of  Babylon.  These 
apprehensions  were  the  more  justly  grounded,  as  the 
Lacedaemonian*  had  declared  openly  against  him, 
and  the  Athenians  sided  with  him  more  out  of  fear 
than  affection.  But,  in  case  he  should  conquer  Tyre, all 
Phoenicia  being  then  subject  to  him,  he  would  be  able 
to  dispossess  the  Persians  of  half  their  naval  army, 
which  consisted  of  the  fleet  of  that  province;  and 
would  soon  make  himself  master  of  the  island  of  Cy- 
prus and  of  Egypt,  which  could  nut  resist  him  the  in- 
stant he  was  become  master  at  sea. 

On  the  other  side,  it  should  seem,  that,  according 
to  all  the  rules  of  war,  Alexander,  after  the  battle  of 
Issus,  ought  to  have  pursued  DT'VI  r:gcr«usly,  nnd 
neither  given  him  an  opportunity  of  recovering  from 
the  fright  into  which  his  defeat  had  thrown  him  nor 
allowed  him  time  to  raise  a  new  arinv;  the  success  of 
the  enterprise,  which  appeared  infallible,  being  the 
only  thing  that  could  make  him  formidable  and  supe- 
rior to  all  his  enemies.  Add  lo  this, that  in  case  Alex- 
ander should  fail  in  his  attempt  to  take  this  city  (which 
was  not  very  unlikely,)  he  would  discredit  his  own 
arms,  would  lose  the  fruit  of  his  victories,  and  prove 
to  the  enemy  that  he  was  not  invincible.  But  God, 
who  had  appointed  this  monarch  to  chastise  the  pride 
of  Tyre,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  did  not  once  per- 
mit those  thoughts  to  enter  mind;  but  determined 
him  to  lay  siege  to  the  place,  in  spite  of  all  the  diffi- 
culties which  opposed  so  hazardous  a  design,  and  the 
many  reasons  which  should  have  prompted  him  to 
pursue  quite  different  measures. 

It  was  impossible  to  come  near  this  city  in  order  to 
storm  it,  without  making  a  causeway  which  would 
reach  from  the  continent  to  the  island;  and  an  at- 
tempt of  this  kind  would  be  attended  with  difficulties 
that  were  seemingly  insurmountable.  The  little  arm 
of  the  sea,  which  separated  the  island  from  the  conti- 
nent, was  exposed  to  the  west  wind,  which  often 
raised  such  dreadful  storms  there,  that  the  waves 
would  in  an  instant  sweap  away  all  his  works.  Be- 
sides, aa  the  city  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the 
sea,  there  was  no  fixing  scaling-ladder*,  nor  erecting 
batteries,  but  at  a  distance  in  the  ships;  and  the  wall 
which  projected  into  the  sea  towards  the  lower  part, 
prevented  people  from  landing:  not  to  mention  that 
the  military  engines,  which  might  have  been  put  on 
board  the  galleys,  could  not  do  much  execution  the 
wave?  were  so  very  tumultuous. 

But  nothing  was  capable  of  checking  or  vanquish- 
ing the  resolution  of  Alexander,  who  was  determined 
to  carry  the  city  at  any  rate.  However,  as  the  few 
vessels  he  possessed  lay  at  a  great  distance  from  him, 
and  the  siege  of  so  strong  a  place  might  |K>s«ibly  last 
a  long  time,  and  so  retard  his  other  enterprises,  he 
thought  proper  first  to  attempt  an  accommodation. 
Accordingly,  he  sent  heralds,  who  proposed  a  peace 
between  Afexander  and  their  city;  but  these  the  Ty- 
rians killed,  contrary  to  the  law  of  nations,  and  threw 
them  from  the  top  of  the  walls  into  the  sea.  Alex- 
ander, exasperated  at  so  cruel  an  outrage,  formed  • 
resolution  at  once,  and  employed  his  whole  attentioc 
in  raising  a  dike.  He  found  in  the  ruins  of  old  Tyre, 
which  stood  on  the  continent,  and  was  called  Palap 
2v2 


540 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


Tyrus,  materials  to  make  piers,  and  he  took  all  the 
atones  and  rubbish  from  it.  Mount  Libanus,  which 
was  not  far  distant  from  it,  so  famous  in  Scripture  for 
its  cedars,  furnished  him  with  wood  for  piles  and  other 
timber  work. 

The  soldiers  began  the  pier  with  great  filycrity, 
being  animated  by  the  presence  of  their  sovereign, 
who  himself  gave  out  all  the  orders;  and  who,  know- 
ing perfectly  how  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  good 
will.1  and  to  gain  the  affections  of  his  troops,  excited 
somii  by  praises,  and  others  by  slight  reprimands,  in- 
termixed with  kind  expressions, and  softened  by  pro- 
mises. At  first  they  advanced  with  pretiy  great  speed, 
the  piles  being  easily  driven  into  the  slime,  which 
served  as  mortar  for  the  stones;  and  as  the  place 
where  these  works  were  carry  ing  on  was  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  city,  they  went  on  without  interrup- 
tion. But  the  farther  they  went  from  the  shore,  the 
greater  difficulties  they  met  with:  because  the  sea 
was  deeper,  and  the  workmen  were  very  much  an- 
noyed bv  the  darts  discharged  from  the  top  of  the 
walls,  The  enemy  who  were  masters  of  the  sea, 
coming  forward  in  boats,  and  raking  the  dike  on 
each  side,  prevented  the  Macedonians  from  carrying 
it  on  with  vigour.  Then  adding  insults  to  their  at- 
tacks, they  cried  aloud  to  Alexander's  soldiers,  "  That 
it  was  a  noble  sight  to  see  those  conquerors,  whose 
names  were  so  renowned  all  the  world  over,  carrying 
burdens  on  their  backs  like  so  many  beasts."  Ana 
they  would  afterwards  ask  them  in  a  contemptuous 
tone  of  voice,  "  Whether  Alexander  were  greater 
than  Neptune;  and  whether  he  pretended  to  prevail 
over  that  god?" 

But  these  taunts  did  but  inflame  the  courage  of  the 
soldiers.  At  last  the  causeway  appeared  above  water, 
began  to  show  a  level  of  considerable  breadth,  and  to 
approach  the  city.  Then  the  besieged  perceiving 
with  terror  the  vastness  of  the  work,  which  the  sea 
had  till  then  kept  from  their  sight,  came  in  barks  in 
order  to  view  the  bank,  which  was  not  yet  firm. 
These  barks  were  full  of  slingers,  bowmen,  and 
others,  who  hurled  Javelin?,  and  even  fire;  and  being 
spread  to  the  right  and  left  about  the  bank,  they  shot 
on  all  sides  upon  the  workmen,  several  of  whom  were 
wounded;  it  not  being;  possible  for  them  to  ward  off 
the  blows,  because  of  the  great  ease  and  swiftness 
with  which  the  boats  moved  backwards  and  forwards; 
»o  that  they  were  obliged  to  leave  the  work  to  de- 
fend themselves.  It  was  therefore  resolved,  that 
fkins  and  sails  should  be  spread  to  cover  the  work- 
men; and  that  two  wooden  towers  should  be  raised 
at  the  head  of  the  bank,  to  prevent  the  approaches  of 
ihe  enemy. 

On  the  other  side,  the  Tvrians  made  a  descent  on 
the  shore,  out  of  the  view  of  the  camp,  where  they 
landed  some  soldiers,  who  cut  to  pieces  those  that 
carried  the  stones;  and  on  mount  Libanus  there  also 
were  some  Arabian  peasants,  who  meeting  the  Mace- 
donians straggling  up  and  down,  killed  near  thirty 
of  them,  and  took  prisoners  very  near  the  same  num- 
ber. These  small  losses  obliged  Alexander  to  sepa- 
r»:e  his  troops  into  different  bodies. 

The  besieged,  in  the  mean  time  employed  every 
invention,  every  stratagem  that  could  be  devised,  to 
ruin  the  enemy's  works.  They  took  a  transport-ves- 
sel, and  ailing  it  with  vine-branches  and  other  dry 
materials,  made  a  large  enclosure  near  the  prow, 
wherein  they  threw  all  these  thing?,  with  sulphur  and 
pitch,  and  other  combustible  matters.  In  the  middle 
of  this  enclosure  they  set  up  two  masts,  to  each  of 
which  they  fixed  two  sail-yards,  on  which  were  hung 
kettles  full  of  oil,  and  such  like  unctuous  substances. 
They  afterwards  loaded  the  hinder  part  of  the  vessel 
with  stones  and  sand,  in  order  to  raise  the  prow;  and 
taking  advantage  of  a  favourable  wind,  they  towed  it 
to  sea  by  the  assistance  of  their  galleys.  As  soon  as 
they  were  come  near  the  towers,  they  set  fire  to  the 
vessel,  and  drew  it  towards  the  extremity  of  the 
causeway.  In  the  mean  time,  the  sailors,  who  were 
in  it,  leaped  into  the  sea  and  swam  away.  Immedi- 


ately the  fire  catched,  with  great  violence,  the  tc  wen, 
and  the  rest  of  the  works  which  were  at  the  head  of 
the  causeway;  and  the  sail-yards  being  ciriren  back- 
ward and  forward,  threw  oil  upon  the  firr,  and  in- 
creased the  flame.  And,  to  prevent  the  Macedonians 
Irom  extinguishing  it,  the  Tvrians,  who  wee*  in  their 
galleys,  were  perpetually  hurling  at  the  to- rers  fiery 
darts  and  burning  torches,  insomuch  th:it  here  was 
no  approaching  them.  Several  Macedonians  lost 
their  lives  in  a  miserable  manner  on  the  i  auseway : 
being  either  shot  through  with  arrows,  or  turned  to 
death ;  whilst  others,  throwing  down  their  t  mis,  lean- 
ed into  the  sea.  But  as  they  were  swimn  ing  aw&j 
the  Tyrians,  choosing  to  take  them  alive,  r  ther  than 
kill  them,  maimed  their  hands  with  clubs  8  id  atones; 
and  after  disabling  them,  carried  them  of .  At  fn« 
same  time,  the.  besieged,  coming  out  of  t  \e  city  in 
little  boats,  beat  down  the  edges  of  the  jausev.ay, 
tore  up  its  stakes,  and  burned  the  rest  of  ib  >.  engines 

Alexander,  though  he  saw  most  of  his  d  :signs  de- 
feated, and  his  works  demolished,  was  not  at  all  de- 
jected with  his  loss  and  disappointment.  W  ,s  soldiers 
endeavoured,  with  redoubled  vigour,  to  repair  the 
ruins  of  the  causeway;  and  made  and  plr  ited  new 
machines  with  such  incredible  celerity,  as  quite  aston- 
ished the  enemy.  Alexander  himself  was  present  on 
all  occasions,  and  superintended  every  prrt  of  the 
works.  His  presence  and  great  abilities  cai  seJ  them 
to  advance  still  more  than  the  multitude  of  !.a'»Js  em- 
ployed in  them.  The  whole  was  near  finuVd,  and 
brought  almost  to  the  wall  of  the  city,  wher  there 
arose  on  a  sudden  an  impetuous  wind,  which  drove 
the  waves  with  so  much  fury  against  the  ba.ik  thai 
the  cement  and  other  things  that  buunc!  it  gave  way 
and  the  water  rushing  through  the  stones,  t  x>ke  it 
in  the  middle.  As  soon  as  the  great  heap  of  stones 
which  supported  the  earth  was  thrown  do*n,  the 
whole  sunk  at  once,  as  into  an  abyss. 

Any  other  than  Alexander  would  that  instart  hav» 
quite  laid  aside  his  enterprise;  and  indeed  he  hu.utlf 
debated  whether  he  should  not  raise  the  siege.  But  a 
superior  power,  who  had  foretold  and  sworn  the  ruin 
of  Tyre,  and  whose  orders,  without  being  conscious 
of  it,"  this  prince  only  executed,  prompted  him  to 
continue  the  siege,  and  dispelling  all  his  fear  and 
anxietv,  inspired  him  with  courage  and  confidence, 
and  fired  the  breasts  of  his  whole  army  with  the  sam« 
sentiments.  For  now  the  soldiers,  as  if  but  that  mo- 
ment arrived  before  the  city,  forgetting  all  the  toils 
they  had  undergone,  began  to  raise  a  new  mole,  al 
which  they  worked  incessantly. 

Alexander  was  sensible  that  it  would  not  be  possi 
ble  for  him  either  to  complete  the  causeway,  or  take 
the  city,  as  long  as  the  Tyrians  should  continue  mas- 
ters at  sea.  He  therefore  resolved  to  assemble  before 
Sidon  his  few  remaining  galleys.  At  the  same  time, 
the  kings  of  Aradus  and  Byblos,2  hearing  that  Alex- 
ander had  conquered  their  cities,  abandoned  the  Per- 
sian fleet,  and  joined  him  with  their  vessels,  ant!  those 
of  the  Sidonians,  which  made  in  all  eighty  suit.  There 
arrived  also,  much  about  the  same  time,  ten  galleys 
from  Rhodes,  three  from  Soli  and  M .ill. is.  ten  from 
Lycia,  and  one  from  Macedonia  of  fifty  oars.  A 
little  after,  the  kings  of  Cyprus,  hearing  that  the  Per- 
sian army  had  been  defeated  near  the  city  of  Issus, 
and  that  Alexender  had  possessed  himself  of  Phoe- 
nicia-, brought  him  a  reinforcement  of  upwards  of  120 
galleys. 

The  king,  whilst  his  soldiers  were  preparing  the 
ships  and  engines,  took  some  troops  of  bom  ,  with 
his  own  regiment  of  guards,  and  marched  towards  a 
mountain  of  Arabia,  called  Antilibaaoi  *  The  ten- 


>  Hauclquaquara   rwiii  tricundi   mililmrei   animo«.     Q. 
Om. 


»  Cities  of  Phoenicia. 

•  [Antililianus  i*  not  a  mountain  of  Arabia,  though  new 
inhabited  hy  many  Arah  tribes,  but  the  ridge  that  sepurav>s 
Palestine  Irom  Syria.  Opposite  Tyre.the  river  El.-ntheru«, 
the  modern  Teitane,  discharges  itself  into  the  gra.  This 
stream,  which  rise*  a  little  to  the  north  of  Balbcc,  cr  the 
•nnient  Heliopnlis,  divides  the  two  chains  of  Lihanus  and 
Antilibanui!,  during  its  whole  course  of  70  pposrapbi-ral 
mi*,  from  north-east  to  xouih-WPSt ;  the  former  btin»  th« 
chain  that  run*  (.long  the  whole  coaxt  of  Phieniria.  from 
south  to  north;  and  the  latter  running  a  parallel  cnurM 
with  the  former,  terminating  near  llie  shore,  a  little  to  tJ>« 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 


547 


d«r  jcgard  he  had  for  his  old  tutor,  who  was  abso- 
lutely r'-solved  to  follow  his  pupil,  exposed  Alexan- 
der to  vrrv  great  danger.  This  was  Lysimachus,  who 
rttve  the  name  of  Achilles  to  his  scholar,  and  called 
himself  Phoenix.'  When  the  king  WHS  got  to  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  he  leaped  from  his  horse,  and 
r.egan  to  walk.  His  troops  got  a  considerable  way 
Defore  him.  It  was  already  late,  and  Alexander  not 
Dei.-.g  willing  to  leave  his  preceptor,  who  was  very 
corpulent,  and  scarce  able  to  walk,  was  by  that  means 
separated  from  his  little  army,  accompanied  only  by 
a  very  few  soldiers;  and  in  this  manner  spent  the 
whole  night  very  near  the  enemy,  who  were  so  nume- 
rous, that  they  might  easily  have  overpowered  him. 
However,  his  usual  good  fortune  and  courage  extri- 
cated him  fr  >m  this  danger;  so  that,  coming  up  after- 
wards with  his  forces,  he  advanced  forward  into  the 
Counlrv,  took  all  the  strong  places,  either  by  force  or 
capitulation,  and  returned  the  eleventh  day  to  Sidon, 
where  he  found  Alexander,  son  of  Ptolemocrates,  who 
had  bought  him  a  reinforcement  of  4000  Greeks  from 
Pelopoi' 

The  fleet  being  ready,  Alexander  took  some  sol- 
diers from  among  his  guards,  and  these  he  embarked 
with  him,  in  order  to  employ  them  in  close  fight  with 
Ihe  enemy;  and  then  set  sail  towards  Tyre  in  order 
of  battle.  He  himself  was  on  the  extremity  of  the 
right  wins:,  which  extended  itself  towards  the  main 
ocean,  being  accompanied  by  the  kings  of  Cyprus 
Bnd  Phoenicia;  the  left  was  commanded  by  Craterus. 
The  Tyrians  were  at  first  determined  to  give  battle; 
but  alter  they  heard  of  the  uniting  of  these  forces, 
and  saw  the  army  a3vance,  which  made  a  grand  ap- 
pearance (for  Alexander  had  halted  to  wait  the  com- 
ing up  of  his  left  wing,)  they  kept  all  their  galleys  in 
the  harbours,  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  entering 
them.  When  the  king  saw  this,  he  advanced  nearer 
the  city;  and  finding  it  would  be  impossible  for  him 
to  force  the  port  which  lay  towards  Sidon,  because 
ot  the  extreme  narrowness  of  the  entrance,  and  its 
teing  defended  bv  a  large  number  of  galleys,  all 
whose  prows  were  turned  towards  the  main  ocean,  he 
only  sunk  thr%$  of  them  which  lay  without,  and  af- 
terwards came  toananch-jrwith  his  whole  fleet,  pretty- 
near  the  mole,  along  the  shore,  where  his  ships  rode 
in  safety. 

Whilst  all  these  things  were  doing,  the  new  mole 
was  carried  on  with  great  vigour.  The  workmen 
threw  into  the  sea  whole  trees  with  all  their  branches 
on  them:  and  laid  great  stones  over  these,  on  which 
tin  y  put  other  trees,  and  the  latter  they  covered  with 
a  kiiid  of  unctuous  e&rth,  which  served  instead  of 
mortar.  Afterwards  heaping  more  trees  and  stones 
on  these,  the  whole  thus  joined  together  formed  one 
entire  body.  This  causeway  was  made  wider  than 
the  former,  in  order  that  the  towers  that  were  built 
in  the  middle  might  be  out  of  the  reach  of  such  ar- 
rows as  should  be  shot  from  those  ships  which  might 
attempt  to  break  down  the  edges  of  the  hank.  The 
besieged,  on  the  other  side,  exerted  themselves  with 
extraordinary  bravery,  and  did  all  that  lay  in  their 
power  to  stop  the  progress  of  the  work.  But  nothing 
was  of  so  much  service  to  them  as  their  divers,  who 
swimming  under  water,  came  unperceived  quite  up 
to  the  bank,  and  with  hooks  drew  such  branches  to 
them  as  projected  beyond  the  work;  and  pulling  for- 
ward with  great  strength,  forced  away  everything 
that  was  over  them.  This  was  one  expedient  by  which 
the  work  was  retarded;  however,  after  many  delays, 
the  patience  of  the  workmen  surmounting  every  ob- 
starle.  it  was  at  last  finished  in  its  utmost  perfection. 
The  Macedonians  placed  military  engines  of  all  kinds 
on  the  causeway,  in  order  to  shake  the  walls  with  bat- 
tering-ram*, and  hurl  on  the  besieged  arrows,  stones, 
and  burning  torches. 


south  of  Tyre.  The  space  between  there  parallel  ranges 
forms  the  valley  of  Syria,  called  hy  the  Greek  writer*  C<plo- 
Syria,  or  the  Hollow  Syria.  To  the  north-emit  of  Balbec 
•nd  the  source  of  the  Eleutluru*,  rises  the  Orontes,  the 
greatest  river  of  Syria,  which  v--Mcred  the  once  famed  city 
gf  Aitiorh.  It  was  the  ransi1  on  the  opposite  bide  of  Eleu- 
U>etk>  which  Alexander  visited.] 
I  I  fa  vreJi  known  that  Phenix  wag  governor  to  Achilles 


At  the  same  time,  Alexander  ordered  the  Cyprian 
fleet,  commanded  by  Andromnchus.  to  take  its  station 
before  the  harbour  which  lay  towards  Sidon;  and 
that  of  Phoenicia  before  the  harbour  on  the  other  side 
of  the  causeway  facing  Egypt;  towards  tliat  part 
where  his  own  tent  was  pitched,  and  made  prepara- 
tions for  attacking  the  city  or;  every  side.  The  Ty- 
nans, in  their  turn,  prepared  (or  a  vigorous  defence. 
On  that  side  which  lay  towards  the  causeway,  they 
had  erected  towers  on  the  wall,  which  was  of  a  pro- 
digious height,  and  of  a  proportional  breadth,  the 
whole  built  with  great  stones  cemented  together  with 
mortar  The  access  to  any  other  part  was  very  near 
as  difficult,  the  enemy  having  fenced  the  foot  of  the 
wall  with  great  stones,  to  keep  the  enemy  from  ap- 
proaching it.  The  business  then  was,  first  to  draw 
these  away,  which  could  not  be  done  but  with  the 
utmost  ditliculty,  because  the  soldiers  could  not  keep 
very  firm  on  their  legs  in  the  ships.  Besides,  the 
Tyrians  advanced  with  covered  galleys,  and  cut  the 
cables  which  held  the  ships  at  anchor:  so  that  Alex- 
ander was  obliged  to  cover,  in  like  manner,  several 
vessels  of  thirty  rowers  each,  and  to  station  these 
across,  to  secure  the  anchors  from  the  attacks  of  the 
Tyrian  galleys.  But  still  the  divers  came  and  cut 
them  unperceived,  so  that  they  were  at  last  forced  to 
fix  them  with  iron  chains.  Alter  this,  they  drew 
these  stones  with  cable-ropes,  and  carrying  them  off 
with  engines,  they  were  thrown  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea,  where  it  was  not  possible  for  them  to  do  any  far- 
ther mischief.  The  foot  of  the  wall  being  thus  clear- 
ed, the  vessels  had  very  easy  access  to  it.  In  this  man- 
ner the  Tyrians  were  invested  on  all  sides,  and  at- 
tacked at  the  same  time  both  by  sea  and  land. 

The  Macedonians  had  joined  (two  and  two)  galleys 
of  four  banks  of  oars  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  prows 
were  fastened,  and  the  sterns  go  far  distant  one  from 
the  other,  as  was  necessary  for  the  pieces  of  timber 
between  them  to  be  of  a  proper  length.  After  this  they 
threw  from  one  stern  to  the  other  sail-yards,  which 
were  fastened  together  by  planks  laid  across,  in  order 
for  the  soldiers  to  stand  fast  on  that  space.  The  gal- 
leys being  thus  equipped,  they  rowed  towards  thp 
citv,  and  shot  (under  covert)  against  those  who  de- 
fended the  walls,  the  prows  serving  them  as  «o  many 
parapets.  The  king  caused  them  to  advance  about 
midnight,  in  order  to  surround  the  walls,  and  make  a 
general  assault.  The  Tyrians  now  gave  themselves 
up  for  lost,  when  on  a  sudden  the  sky  wasoversprea*. 
with  such  thick  clouds,  as  quite  tool;  away  the  faint 
glimmerings  of  light  which  before  darted  through  the 
iiloom.  The  sea  rises  by  insensible  degrees;  and  the 
billows  being  swelled  by  the  fury  of  the  winds,  raise 
a  dreadful  storm.  The  vessels  dash  one  against  the 
other  with  so  much  violence,  that  the  cables,  which 
before  fastened  them  together,  are  either  loosened 
or  break  to  pieces;  the  planks  split,  and,  making  a 
horrible  crash,  carry  off  the  soldiers  with  them;  for 
the  tempest  was  so  furious,  that  it  was  not  possible  tc 
manage  or  steer  galleys  thus  fastened  together.  Tho 
soldier  was  a  hinderance  to  the  sailor,  and  the  sailor 
to  the  soldier;  and,  as  happens  on  such  occasions, 
those  took  the  command  whose  business  it  was  to 
obey;  fear  and  anxiety  throwing  all  things  into  con- 
fusion. But  now  the  rowers  exerted  themselves  with 
so  much  vigour,  that  they  got  the  better  of  the  sea, 
and  seemed  to  rescue  by  main  force  the.  •  ships  from 
the  waves.  At  last  they  brought  them  ~>ear  the 
shore,  but  the  greatest  part  in  a  shattered  condition. 

At  the  same,  time  there  arrived  at  Tyre  thirty  an« 
bassadors  from  Carthage,  who  did  not  bring  the  least 
succours,  though  they  had  promised  such  might* 
things.  Instead  of  this,  they  only  made  excuses,  de- 
claring that  it  wa«  with  the  greatest  grief  the  Cai  tha- 
ginians  found  themselves  absolutely  unable  to  as»ia< 
the  Tyrians  in  any  manner;  for  that  they  themselves 
were  engaged  in" a  war,  not  as  before  for  empire, 
but  to  save  their  country.  And  indeed  the  Syraco 
sans  were  laying  waste  all  Africa  at  that  time  with 
powerful  army,  and  had  pitched  their  camp  not  fa 
from  the  walls  of  Cartnage.  The  Tyrians,  thoujr* 


•  See  the  faulorr  of  Carthage. 


548 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


the  great  hopes  thry  had  conceived  were  thus  frus 
tratt-d,  were  no  ways  dejected.  They  only  took  the 
wNe  precaution  of  sending  most  of  their  women  and 
children  to  Carthage,  in  order  that  they  themselves 
might  he  in  a  condition  to  defend  themselves  to  the 
ln-l  t  xtreuiitv,  and  hear  more  courageously  the 
gie:ite?i  calamities  which  might  befall  them,  when 
they  had  once  lodged,  in  a  secure  asylum,  what  they 
most  valued  in  the  world. 

There  was  in  the  city  a  brazen  stiitue  of  Apollo,  of 
an  enormous  size.  This  colossus  had  formerly  stood 
in  the  cily  of  Gela  in  Sicily.  The  Carthaginians 
having  taken  it  about  the  year  412  before  Christ,1 
bad  given  it,  by  way  of  present,  to  the  city  of  Tyre, 
which  they  always  considered  as  the  mother  of  Car- 
thage. The  Tyrians  had  set  it  up  in  their  city,  and 
worship  was  paid  to  it.  During  the  siege,  in  conse- 
quence of  a  dream  which  one  of  the  citizens  had,  the 
Tyrians  imagined  that  Apollo  was  determined  to 
leave  them,  and  go  over  to  Alexander.  Immediately 
they  fastened  with  a  gold  chttin  his  statue  to  Hercu- 
les's  altar,  to  prevent  the  deity  from  leaving  them. 
For  these  people  were  silly  enough  to  believe,  that 
after  his  statue  was  thus  fastened  down.it  would  not 
be  possible  for  him  to  make  his  escape;  and  that  he 
would  be  prevented  from  doing  so  by  Hercules,  the 
tutelar  god  of  the  city.  What  a  strange  idea  the 
heathens  had  of  their  divinities! 

Some  of  the  Tyrians  proposed  the  restoring  of  a 
sacrifice  which  had  been  discontinued  for  many  ages; 
an-1  this  was,  to  sacrifice  a  child  born  of  free  parents 
to  Saturn.  The  Carthaginians,  who  had  borrowed 
this  sacrilegious  custom  from  their  founders,  pre- 
served it  till  the  destruction  of  their  city;  and  had 
not  the  old  men,  who  were  invested  with  the  great- 
est authority  in  Tvre,  opposed  the  design,  this  cruel- 
ly superstitious  custom  would  have  prevailed  over 
every  sentiment  of  humanity. 

The  Tyrians,  finding  their  city  exposed  every  mo- 
ment to  he  taken  by  storm,  resolved  to  fall  upon  the 
Cyprian  fleet,  which  lay  at  anchor  on  the  side  towards 
Sidon.  They  took  the  opportunity  to  do  this  at  a 
time  when  the  seamen  of  Alexander's  fleet  were  dis- 
persed upanddown;  and  when  he  himself  was  with- 
drawn to  his  tent,  pitched  on  the  sea-shore.  Accord- 
ingly they  came  out,  about  noon,  with  thirteen  gal- 
leys, all  manned  with  choice  soldiers  who  were  used 
to  sea-fights;  and  rowing  with  all  their  might,  came 
thundering  on  the  enemy's  vt-ssels.  Part  of  them 
they  found  empty,  and  the  rest  had  been  manned  in 
great  haste.  Some  of  these  they  sunk,  and  drove  se- 
veral of  them  against  the  shores,  where  they  were 
dashed  to  pieces.  The  loss  would  have  been  still 
greater,  had  n<5t  Alexander,  the  instant  he  heard  of 
this  sallv,  advanced  at  the  head  of  his  whole  fleet 
with  all  imaginable  despatch  against  the  Tyrians. 
However,  these  did  not  wait  his  coming  up,  but 
withdrew  into  the  harbour,  after  having  also  lost 
,  tome  of  their  ships. 

And  now  the  engines  playing,  the  city  was  warmly 
attacked  on  all  sides,  and  as  vigorously  defended. 
The  besieged,  taught  and  animated  by  the  imminent 
danger,  and  the  extreme  necessity  to  which  they 
were  reduced,  invented  daily  new  arts  todefentl  them- 
selves, and  repulse  the  enemy.  They  warded  off  all  the 
darts  discharged  from  the  balistas  against  them  by  the 
assistance  of  turning-wheels,  which  either  broke  them 
to  pieces,  or  carried  them  another  way.  They  dead- 
ened the  violence  of  the  stones  that  were  hurled  at 
them,  by  setting  up  a  kind  of  sails  and  curtains  made 
of  a  soft  substance,  which  easily  gave  way.  To  annoy 
the  ships  which  advanced  against  their  walls, they  fix- 
ed cranes,  grappling-irons,  and  scythes,  to  joists  or 
beams;  then  straining  their  catapultas  (an  enormous 
kind  of  cross-bows,)  they  laid  those  great  nieces  of 
timber  upon  them  instead  of  arrows,  and  shot  them 
off"  on  a  sudden  at  the  enemy.  These  crushed  some 
to  pieces  by  their  great  weight;  and  the  hooks  or 
pensile  scythes,  with  which  they  were  armed,  tore 
Others  to  pieces,  and  did  considerable  damage  to  their 
•hips.  1  hey  also  had  brazen  shields,  which  they 


t  Diod.l  liii  p.93* 


drew  red-hot  out  of  the  fire;  and  fi.ling  Ai?+t  wit* 
burning  sand,  hurled  them  in  an  instant  frrn.  the  top 
of  the  wall  upon  the  enemy.  There  was  nothing  the 
Macedonians  so  much  dreaded  as  this  last  invention; 
for 'the  moment  this  burning  sand  got  to  the  flcs^ 
through  the  crevices  in  the  armour,  it  pierced  to  th» 
very  bone,  and  stuck  so  close,  that  there  was  no  pull 
ing  it  off;  so  that  the  soldiers,  throwing  down  their 
arms,  and  tearing  their  clothes  to  pieces,  were  in  thii 
manner  exposed,  naked  and  deteiC3'est>,  to  the  siiot 
of  the  enemy. 

It  was  then  that  Alexander,  discouraged  at  so  vigo- 
rous a  defence,  debated  seriously,  whether  it  would 
not  be  proper  for  him  to  raise  the  siege,  and  go  into 
Egypt:  for  after  having  overrun  Asia  with  prodigious 
rapidity,  he  found  his  progress  unhappily  /etarded; 
and  lost,  before  a  single  city,  the  opportunity  of  exe- 
cuting a  great  many  projects  of  infinitely  greater  im- 
portance. On  the  other  side,  he  considered  that  it 
would  be  a  great  blemish  to  his  reputation,  which 
had  done  him  greater  service  than  his  arm?,  should 
he  leave  Tyre  behind  him,  ns  a  proof  to  the  woild 
that  he  was  not  invincible.  He  therefore  resolved  to 
make  a  last  effort  with  a  greater  number  of  ships 
which  he  manned  with  the  flower  of  his  army.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  second  naval  engagement  was  fought,  in 
which  the  Tyrians,  after  fighting  with  intrepklity 
were  obliged  to  draw  oft  their  whole  fleet  towards 
the  city.  The  king  pursued  their  rear  very  cloxf,  bu> 
was  not  able  to  enter  the  harbour,  being  repnl-td  by 
arrows  shot  from  the  walls:  however,  he  eitner  tool 
or  sunk  a  great  number  of  their  ships. 

Alexander,  after  letting  his  forces  repose  themselves 
two  days,  brought  forward  his  fleet  and  Kis  engines 
in  order  to  attempt  a  general  assault.  Both  tne  at- 
tack and  defence  were  now  more  vigorous  than  ever. 
The  courage  of  the  combatants  increased  with  th« 
danger;  and  each  side,  animated  by  the  most  power- 
ful motives,  fought  like  lions.  Wherever  the  batter- 
ins-rams  had  beat  down  any  part  of  the  wall,  and  the 
bridges  were  thrown  out,  instantly  the  Argyraspidet 
mounted  the  breach  with  the  utmost  valour,  being 
headed  by  Admetus,  one  of  the  bravest  officers  in  tht 
army,  who  was  killed  by  the  thrust  of  a  partisan,*  a» 
he  was  encouraging  his  soldiers.  The  pres<  nee  of 
the  king,  and  especially  the  example  he  set,  fired  his 
troops  with  unusual  bravery.  He  himself  ascer.dr.d 
one  of  the  towers,  which  was  of  a  prodigious  height, 
and  there  was  exposed  to  the  greatest  danger  liii 
courage  had  ever  made  him  hazard:  for,  being  imme- 
diately known  by  his  insignia  and  the  richness  ot  hii 
armour,  he  served  as  a  mark  for  all  the  arrows  of  the 
enemy.  On  this  occasion  he  performed  wonders; 
killing,  with  javelins,  several  of  those  who  defended 
the  wall;  then  advancing  nearer  to  them,  he  forced 
some  with  his  sword,  and  others  with  his  shield, 
either  into  the  city  or  the  sea;  the  tower  where  h* 
fought  almost  touching  the  wall.  He  soon  went  over 
it,  by  the  assistance  of  floating  bridges,  and,  followed 
by  the  nobility,  possessed  himself  of  two  towers,  and 
the  space  between  them.  The  battering-rams  had 
already  made  several  breaches;  the  fleet  had  forced 
the  harbour;  and  some  of  the  Macedonians  had  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  the  towers  which  were  abandon- 
ed.  The  Tyrians,  seeing  the  enemy  master  of  their 
rampart,  retired  towards  an  open  place,  called  the 
square  of  Agenor,  nnd  there  stood  their  ground;  but 
Alexander  marching  up  with  his  regiment  of  body- 
guards, killed  part  of  them,  and  obliged  the  rest  to  fly. 
At  the  same  time,  the  city  being  taken  on  that  sid«i 
which  lay  towards  the  harbour,  the  Macedoni  ins  ran 
up  and  down  in  every  quarter,  sparing  no  person 
who  came  in  their  way.  beinsr  highly  exasperated  at 
the  long  resistance  of  the  besieged,  and  the  barbari- 
ties they  had  exercised  towards  some  of  their  rom- 
rades,  who  had  been  taken  in  their  return  from  Sidon, 
and  thrown  from  the  battlements,  after  their  throati 
had  been  cut  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  army. 

The  Tyrians,  seeing  themselves  overpowered  on  all 
•ides,  some  fly  to  the  temples,  to  implore  the  assist 
•nee  of  the  gods;  others,  shutting  themselves  in  their 


•  A  kind  of  halbert. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


549 


houses,  escape  the  sword  of  the  conqueror  by  a  volun-  ' 
tary  death;  others  rush  upon  the  enemv,  firmlv  re- 
solved to  sell  their  lives  at  the  dearest  ra'te.  Most  of  j 
the  citizens  were  got  on  the  house-tops,  whence 
they  threw  stones,  and  whatever  came  first  to  hand, 
upon  such  as  advanced  forward  into  the  citv.  The 
king  g;"e  orders  to  kill  all  the  inhabitants  (those  ex- 
cepted  who  had  sheltered  themselves  in  the  temples,) 
•  nd  to  set  fire  to  every  part  of  Tyre.  Although  this 
order  was  published  by  sound  of  trumpet,  \et  not 
one  person  who  carried  arms  fled  to  the  asylums. 
The  temples  were  filled  with  such  young  women 
and  children  only  as  had  remained  in  the  city. 
The  old  mtn  waited  at  the  doors  of  their  houses,  in 
expectation  every  instant  of  being  sacrificed  to  the 
rage  of  the  soldiers.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  Si- 
donian  soldiers,  who  wtre  in  Alexander's  camp, saved 
jreat  numbers  of  them.  For.  having  entered  the  city 
indiscriminately  with  the  conquerors,  and  calling  to 
mind  their  ancient  affinity  with  the  Tyrians  (Agenor 
hai'iiitr  founded  both  Tyre  and  Sidon,)  they  carried 
off  great  numbers  privately  on  board  their  ships,  and 
C"ii\<yed  them  to  Sidon.  By  this  kind  deceit  15.000 
were  saved  from  the  rage  ol  the  conqueror;  and  we 
may  judge  of  the  greatness  of  the  slaughter,  from  the 
number  of  the  soldiers  v.  ho  were  cut  to  pieces  on  the 
rampart  of  the  city  only,  who  amounted  to  6000. 
However  the  king's  anger  not  being  fully  appeased, 
he  exhibited  a  scene,  which  appeared  dreadlul  even 
to  the  conquerors;  for,  2000  men  remaining  alter  the 
soldiers  had  been  glutted  with  slaughter,  Alexander 
caused  them  to  be  fixed  upon  crosses  along  the  sea- 
shore. He  pardoned  the  ambassadors  of  Carthage, 
wh->  were  come  to  their  metropolis  to  offer  up  a  sacri- 
fice to  Hen  ules  according  to  annual  custom.  The 
number  of  prisoners,  both  foreigners  and  citizens, 
amounted  to  30,000,  who  were  all  sold.  As  for  the 
Macedonians,  their  loss  was  very  inconsiderable. 

Alexander   offered    a   sacrifice    to 

A.  M.  3672.  Hercules,  and  conducted  the  cere- 
Ant.  J.  C'  332.  mony  with  aH  his  land  forces  under 
arms,  in  concert  with  the  fleet.  He 
also  solemnized  gymnastic  exercises  in  honour  of  the 
same  god,  in  the  temple  dedicated  to  him.  With  re- 
gard to  the  statue  of  Apollo,  above-mentioned,  he 
took  off  the  chains  from  it,  restored  it  to  its  former 
liberty,  and  commanded  that  this  god  should  thence- 
forward be  adored  under  the  name  of  PhilalexanJer, 
that  is  the  friend  of  Alexander.  If  we  may  believe 
Timaeus,  to  Greeks  began  to  pay  him  this  solemn 
worship,  for  having  occasioned  the  taking  of  Tyre, 
which  happened  the  day  and  hour  that  the  Cartha- 
ginians had  carried  off  this  statue  from  Gela.  The 
city  of  T\  re  was  taken  about  the  end  of  September, 
after  having  sustained  a  seven  months'  siege. 

Thus  were  fully  accomplished  the  menaces  which 
God  had  pronounced  by  the  mouth  of  his  prophets 
against  the  city  of  Tyre.  IS'abuchodonosor  had  be- 
gun to  execute  those  threats'  by  besieging  and  taking 
it;  and  they  were  completed  by  the  sad  catastrophe 
we  have  here  described.  As  this  double  event  forms 
one  of  the  most  considerable  passages  in  history,  and 
as  the  Scriptures  have  given  us  several  very  remark- 
able circumstances  of  it.  I  shall  endeavour  to  unite 
here,  in  one  view,  all  that  they  relate  concerning  the 
city  of  Tyre,  its  power,  riches,  haughtiness,  and  irre- 
liglon;  the  different  punishments  with  which  God 
chastised  its  pride  and  other  vices:  and  at  length  its 
last  ^-establishment,  but  in  a  manner  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  the  former.  Methinks  I  revive  on  a  sud- 
den, when,  through  the  multitude  of  profane  histori- 
an* which  heathen  antiquity  furnishes,  and  in  every 
part  whereof  there  reigns  an  entire  oblivion,  not  to 
say  more,  of  the  Almighty,  the  sa'red  Scriptures  ex- 
hibit themselves,  and  unfold  to  me  the  secret  designs 
of  God  over  kingdoms  and  empires;  and  tench  me 
what  idea  we  are  to  form  of  those  things  which  ap- 
pear the  most  worthy  of  esteem,  the  most  august  in 
the  eyes  of  men. 

But  before  I  relate  the  prophecies  concerning  Tyre, 
I  shall  here  present  the  reader  with  a  little  abstract 

t  Or  Nebadjadoezzar,  a*  be  Is  called  in  our  version. 


of  the  history  of  that  Jauious  city,  by  whicn  he  wiU 
be  the  better  enabled  to  underhand  the  propheciea, 

Tvre*  was  built  by  the  Sidojiians,3 
Mt  MM  before  the  building  of  the        A.  M.  2752. 
temple  of  Jerusalem:  for  this  reason   Ant.  J.  C.  1262. 
it  is  called  by  I-aiah,   The  daughter 
of  Sidon.     It  soon  surpassed   its  an  ther-city  in  ex 
tent,  power,  and  riches. 

It  was  besieged  by   Shalmanezer,* 
and  alone   resisted   the  united   fleets        A    M.  3285. 
of  the   Assyrians  and    Phoenicians;  a    Ant.  I.  C.  719. 
circumstance  which  greatly  heighten- 
ed its  pride. 

Xabuchodonosor  laid  siege  to 
Tyre.*  at  the  time  that  Ilhobalus  A.  M.  343t 
was  king  of  that  city;  but  did  not  Ant-J.  C.572 
take  it  till  thirteen  years  after.  But 
before  it  was  conquered,  the  inhabitants  had  retired 
with  most  of  their  effects,  into  a  neighbouring  island 
where  they  built  a  new  city.  The  old  one  was  raiet 
to  the  very  foundation,  and  has  since  been  no  more 
than  a  village,  known  by  the  name  of  Palce-Tyna 
or  Ancient  Tyre:  but  the  new  one  rose  to  greatei 
power  than  ever. 

It  was  in  this  great  and  flourishing  condition,  whec 
Alexander  besieged  and  took  it.  And  here  beirin  the 
sevi  ntv  years'  obscurity  and  oblivion,  in  which  it  wal 
to  lie,  according  to  Isaiah.  It  was  indeed  soon  re* 
paired,  because  the  Sidomans,  who  entered  the  city 
with  Alexander's  army,  saved  15,000  of  their  citizens 
(as  was  before  observed,)  who  alter  their  return,  ap- 
plied themselves  to  commerce,  and  repaired  the  ruin* 
of  their  country  with  incredible  application;  beside* 
which,  the  women  and  children,  who  had  been  sent 
to  Carthage,  and  lodged  in  a  place  of  safety,  returned 
to  it  at  the  same  time.  But  Tyre  was  conbned  to  th« 
island  in  which  it  stood.  Its  trade  extended  no  far- 
ther than  the  neighbouring  cities,  and  it  had  lost  the 
empire  of  the  sea.  And  when  eighteen  yean  after 
Antigonus  besieged  it  with  a  strong  fleet,  we  do  not 
find  that  the  Tyrians  had  any  maritime  forces  to  op- 
pose him.  This  second  siege,  which  reduced  it  a 
second  time  to  captivity,  plunged  it  again  into  th« 
state  of  oblivion  from  which  it  endeavoured  to  extri- 
cate itself;  and  this  oblivion  continued  the  exact 
time  foretold  by  Isaiah. 

This  term  of  years  being  expired.  Tyre  recovered 
its  former  credit;  and,  at  the  same  time,  resumed  its 
former  vices;  till  at  last,  converted  by  the  preaching 
of  the  Gospel,  it  became  a  holy  and  religious  city. 


*  Joseph.  Antiq   1.  viii.  c.  3. 

*  [There   were  t'.mr   different  places   in. Phoenicia  whiO 
bore  the  name  uf  Tyre,  as  we  are  informed  by  Scylax  ;  bat 

;  the  Tyre  so  famous  in  ancient  history,  stood  200  furlong* 
south  of  Sidon.  and  wan  denominated  the  daughter  of  Sid., n. 
Tyre  must  be  distinguished  into  three  cities,  in  order  of 
time;  namely,  continental,  or  old  Tyre;  insular  Tyre;  and 
peninsular  Tyre.  The  origin  of  the  name  Tyre,  U  from  the 
Phoenician  word  Tor,  signifying  a  lock,  according  to  Hoc-hart. 
Canaan,  lib.  xi.  rap.  17.  p.  rtl.  And  the  island  onwliicfa 
the  second  Tyre  was  built,  i«  encircled  with  rook*  The 
Syrians  pronounced  this  Tor,  Tur,  Tyre;  hence  the  Greeks, 
adding  their  termination,  fornvd  TV;:;,  and  hence  the 
Latin,  Tyrus.  The  peninsular  Tyre  was  built  after  th« 
island  was  joined  with  the  main  land.  The  wle  itself  pa 
which  the  city  taken  by  Alexander  was  built,  i*  of  an  ir- 
regular form,  and  not  exceeding  half  a  mile  where  broadest; 
to  that  its  whole  circumference  could  not  exceed  a  mile  and 
a  half.  The  ports  are  still  pretty  large,  and  in  part  defend- 
ed from  the  s.  a.  each  by  a  long  ridge  resembling  t  mote, 

|  stretching  out  directly  on  both  side*  from  the  head  of  the 
island.  lit  modern  name  is  Tur.  It  afterwards  stood  • 
five  months'  siege,  in  A.  D  1 12-4.  when  the  Crusaders  re- 
duced it  by  starvation  to  a  surrender.  It  was  retaken  from 
them  in  the  year  li'I.  by  the  Mamaluk  Sultan  of  Eiypt 
After  this,  it" fell  to  decay,  and  became,  as  it  were,  buried 
in  its  own  ruins;  an  exact  completion  of  Ezekiel'*  prophe- 
cies respecting  it  The  isle  is  now  desert  and  rocky,  desti 
tute  even  of  shrubs  and  grass.  The  wretched  fifhermea 
who  frequent  the  «pot,  and  dry  their  nets  on  its  now  soli- 
tary shore,  are  qnile  unconscious  of  the  clastic  ground  nsj 
which  they  tread  ;  of  that  spot,  where  were  collected,  as  into 
one  common  storehouse,  the  amber  of  Prussia,  and  the  t  n 
of  Britain  ;  the  linen  of  Ezypt,  and  the  >pices  of  Arabia ;  the 
slaves  of  Caucasus,  and  the  horses  of  Scythia.l 
«  Joseph.  Antiq.  1.  U.  c.  14.  •  Ibid  I  x.  e.  11 


550 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


The  sacred  writings  acquaint  us  with  part  of  these 
revolutions,  and  this  is  what  we  are  now  to  show. 

Tyre,1  before  the  captivity  of  the  Jews  in  Babylon, 
was  considered  as  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  flou- 
rishing cities  in  the  world.  Its  industry  and  very  ad- 
vantageous situation  had  raised  it  to  the  sovereignty 
of  the  sea,  and  made  it  the  centre  of  the  trade  of  the 
whole  universe.  From  the  extreme  parts  of  Arabia, 
Persia,  and  India,  to  the  most  remote  western  coasts; 
from  Scythia  and  the  northern  regions,  to  Egypt, 
Ethiopia,  and  the  southern  countries;  all  nations 
contributed  to  the  increase  of  its  riches,  splendour, 
and  power.  Not  only  the  several  things  useful  and 
necessary  to  society,  which  those  various  regions 
produced;  but  whatever  they  had  that  was  rare,  cu- 
rious, magnificent,  or  precious,  and  best  adapted  to 
the  support  of  luxury  and  pride;  all  these  were 
brought  to  its  markets.  And  Tyre,  on  the  other 
side,  as  from  a  common  source,  dispersed  this  varied 
abundance  over  all  kingdoms,  and  infected  them 
with  its  corrupt  manners,  by  inspiring  them  with  a 
love  for  ease,  vanity,  luxury,  and  voluptuousness. 

A  long,  uninterrupted  series  of  prosperity  had 
swelled  the  pride  of  Tyre.*  She  delighted  to  con- 
sider herself  as  the  queen  of  cities;  a  queen  whose 
head  is  adorned  with  a  diadem;  whose  correspond- 
ents are  illustrious  princes;  whose  rich  traders  dis- 
pute for  superiority  with  kings;  who  sees  every 
maritime  power,  either  her  allies  or  dependants;  and 
who  has  made  herself  necessary  or  formidable  to  all 
nations. 

Tyre  had  now  filled  up  the  measure  of  her  iniquity, 
by  her  impiety  against  God,  and  her  barbarity  exer- 
cised against  his  people.  She  had  rejoiced  over  the 
ruins  of  Jerusalem,  exclaiming  in  an  insulting  tone: 
"Behold  then  the  gates  of  this  so  populous  city  are 
broken  down.3  Her  inhabitants  shall  come  to  me, 
and  I  will  enrich  myself  with  her  spoils,  now  she  is 
laid  waste."  She  was  not  satisfied  with  having  re- 
duced the  Jews  to  a  state  of  captivity,*  notwithstand- 
ing the  alliance  between  them;  with  selling  them  to 
the  Gentiles,  and  delivering  them  up  to  their  most 
cruel  enemies:  she  likewise  had  seized  upon  the  in- 
heritance of  the  Lord,5  and  carried  away  from  his 
temple  the  most  precious  things,  to  enrich  therewith 
the  temples  of  her  idols. 

This  profanation  and  cruelty  drew  down  the  ven- 
geance of  God  upon  Tyre.6  God  is  resolved  to  de- 
stroy her,  because  she  relied  so  much  upon  her  own 
strength,  her  wisdom,  her  riches,  and  her  alliances. 
He  therefore  will  bring  against  her  Nebuchodonosor, 
that  king  of  kings,  to  overwhelm  her  with  his  mighty 
hosts,  as  with  waters  that  overspread  their  banks,  to 
demolish  her  ramparts,  to  ruin  her  proud  palaces,  to 
deliver  up  her  merchandise  and  treasures  to  the  sol- 
diers, and  to  raze  Tyre  to  the  very  foundations,  after 
having  set  fire  to  it,  and  either  extirpated  or  dispersed 
all  its  inhabitants. 

By  this  so  unexpected  a  fall,7  the  Almighty  will 
teach  the  astonished  nations,  that  he  more  evidently 
displays  his  providence  by  the  most  incredible  revo- 
lutions of  states;  and  that  his  will  alone  directs  the 
enterprises  of  men,  and  guides  them  as  he  pleases,  in 
order  to  humble  the  proud. 

But  Tyre,  after  she  had  recovered  her  losses  and 
repaired  her  ruins,  forgot  her  former  state  of  humilia- 
tion, and  the  guilt  which  had  reduced  her  to  it. 

She  still  was  pufl'ed  up  with  the  glory  of  possessing 
the  empire  of  the  sea;8  of  being  the  seat  of  univer- 
sal commerce;  of  giving  birth  to  the  most  famous 
colonies;  of  having  within  her  walls  merchants, 
whose  credit,  riches,  and  splendour,  rendered  them 
equal  to  the  princes  and  great  men  of  the  earth;  of 
being  governed  by  a  monarch,9  who  might  justly  be 


entitled  god  of  the  sea;  of  tracing  back  her  origin  ta 
the  most  remote  antiquity;  of  having  acquired,  by  a 
long  series  of  ages,  a  kind  of  eternity;  and  of  having 
a  right  to  promise  herself  another  such  eternity  in 
times  to  come. 

But  since  this  city,10  corrupted  by  pride,  by  ava- 
rice and  luxury,  has  not  profited    by   the  first  lesson 


which  God  has  given  her  by   the  hands  of  the  king 

ppressed  by  all 
the  forces  of  the  East,  she  has  not  yet  learned  not  to 


of  Babylon;  and  since,  after  being  oppressed  by  al 


confide  any  longer  in  the  false  and  imaginary  sup- 
port of  her  own  greatness:  God  foretells  her  anothei 
chastisement,"  which  he  will  send  upon  her  from  the 
West,  near  400  years  after  the  first.  Her  destruction 
will  come  from  Chittim,12  that  is  Macedonia;  from  a 
kingdom  so  weak  and  obscure,  that  it  had  beeu  de- 
spised a  few  years  before;  a  kingdom  whence  she 
could  never  have  expected  such  a  blow,  "Tyre  pos- 
sessed with  an  opinion  of  her  own  wisdom,  and  proud 
of  her  (leets,  of  her  immense  riches,  which  she  heap- 
ed up  as  mire  in  the  streets,"  and  also  protected  by 
the  whole  power  of  the  Persian  empire,  does  not  ima 
gine  she  has  any  thing  to  fear  from  those  new  ene- 
mies, who,  being  situated  at  a  great  distance  from 
her,  without  either  money,  strength,  or  reputation, 
having  neither  harbours  nor  ships,  and  being  quite 
unskilled  in  navigation;  cannot  therefore,  as  she 
imagines,  annoy  her  with  their  land  forces.  Tyre 
looks  upon  herself  as  impregnable,13  because  she  is 
defended  by  lofiy  fortifications,  and  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  the  sea  as  with  a  moat  and  a  girdle: 
nevertheless  Alexander,  by  filling  up  the  arm  of  the 
sea  which  separates  her  from  the  continent,  will  force 
off  her  girdle,  and  demolish  those  ramparts  which 
served  her  as  a  second  enclosure. 

Tyre,  thus  dispossessed  of  her  dignity  as  queen  and 
as  a  free  city,  boasting  no  more  her  diadem  nor  her 
girdle,  will  be  reduced,  during  seventy  years,  to  the 
mean  condition  of  a  slave.  "The  Lord  hath  pur- 
posed it,14  to  stain  the  pride  of  all  glory,  and  to  bring 
into  contempt  all  the  honourable  of  the  earth."  Her 
fall  will  drag  after  it  the  ruin  of  trade  in  general;1* 
and  she  will  prove  to  all  maritime  cities  a  subject  of 
sorrow  and  lamentation,  bv  making  them  lose  the 
present  means  and  the  future  hopes  of  enriching 
themselves. 

To  prove,1*  in  a  sensible  manner,  to  Tyre,  that 
the  prophecy  concerning  her  ruin  is  not  incredible 
and  that  all  the  strength  and  wisdom  of  man  can  no 
ways  ward  off  or  suspend  the  punishment  which  God 
has  prepared  for  the  pride  and  the  abuse  of  riches, 
Isaiah  sets  before  her  the  example  of  Babylon,  whose 
destruction  ought  to  have  been  a  lesson  to  her.  This 
city,  '7  in  which  Niinrod  laid  the  foundations  of  his 
empire,  was  the  most  ancient,  the  most  populous,  and 
embellished  with  more  edihces,  both  public  and  pri- 
vate, than  any  other  city.  She  was  the  capital  of  the 
first  empire  that  ever  existed,  and  was  founded  in 
order  to  command  over  the  whole  earth,  which  seem- 
ed to  be  inhabited  only  by  families  which  she  had 
brought  forth  and  sent  out  as  so  many  colonies,  whose 
common  parent  she  was.  Nevertheless,  says  the 
prophet,  she  is  no  more,  neither  Babylon  nor  her  em- 
pire. The  citizens  of  Babylon  had  multiplied  their 
ramparts  and  citadels,  to  render  even  the  besieging  it 
impracticable.  The  inhabitants  had  raised  pompous 
palaces,  to  make  their  names  immortal;  but  all  these 
fortifications  were  but  as  so  many  dens,  in  the  eyes 
of  Providence,  for  wild  beasts  to  dwell  in;  and  these 
edifices  were  doomed  to  fall  to  dust,  or  else  to  sink 
to  humble  cottages. 

After  so  signal  an  example,  continues  the  prophet, 
shall  Tyre,  which  is  so  much  inferior  to  Bain  Ion  in 
many  respects,  dare  to  hope  that  the  menaces  pro- 
nounced bv  Heaven  Birainst  her,  viz.  to  deprive  her 


i  Ezek.  xxvi.  and  xxvii.  throuehout.    Ezek.  xxvii.  4 — 25. 
»  Ezek.  xxvi.  17.  xxvii.  3,  4.  25—33. 

•  Iliiil.  xxvi.  2.  «  Joel  iii.  2—8.     Amos  i.  9, 10. 

•  Joel  iii.  2,  5.     Amosi.  9.  13. 

«  Ji^rem.  xlvii.  2--7.     Ezek    xxvi.  3—12.  19—21.  xxvii. 
87.34. 

'  Ezek.  XXTI.  15—  18.  xxvii.  33—36.    Isa.  xxiii.  8,  9. 

•  Isa.  xxiii.  3,  4,  7,  8,  12.  »  Ezek.  xxviii.  2. 


»•  l-a.  xxiii.  17.  ««  Ibid.  11,  12. 

i*  Macitnb.  i.  1.     Z»>rh.  ix.  2,  5. 

i»  Ii-a.  xxiii.  JO,  11,  IX  "  Ibid.  ver.  9. 

»»  Ibid    ver.  1.  11.  H.  >«  Isa   xxiii.  13,  14. 

11  Beliold  the  land  of  the  Chaldeans;  Una  people  was  no 
till  the  Assyrians  founded  it  for  them  that  dwell  in  ilir  wil 
derneea:  they  set  up  the  towers  thereof,  they  rained  up  thl 
pnlnre.x  thereof;  and  lie  brought  it  to  ruin.  Howl,  yo  ship 
of  Tarshiah :  for  your  strength  It  laid  waste.  Isa.  xiiii  13. 14 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


551 


of  the  empire  of  the  sea,  and  destroy  her  fleets,  will 
Dot  be  lultilled? 

To  make  her  the  more  strongly  sensible  how  much 
the  has  abused  her  prosperity,'  God  will  reduce  her 
to  a  stale  of  humiliation  and  oblivion  during  three- 
•core  and  ten.years.  But  after  this  season  of  obscu-' 
nty,2she  will  again  endeavour  to  appear  with  the  air 
of  a  harlot,  full  of  charms  and  artifices,  whose  sole 
endeavours  are  to  corrupt  youth,  and  sooth  their  pas- 
fions.  T'J  promote  her  commerce,  she  will  use  fraud, 
deceit,  and  the  most  insiduousarts.  She  will  visit  •  v<  - 
ry  part  of  the  world,  to  collect  the  most  rare  and  most 
delicious  products  of  every  country;  to  inspire  the 
various  nations  of  the  universe  with  a  love  and  admi- 
ration for  superfluities  and  splendour,  and  fill  them 
with  an  aversion  for  the  simplicity  and  frugality  of 
their  ancient  mariners.  And  she  will  set  every  engine 
•t  work,  to  renew  her  ancient  treaties;  to  recover  the 
confidence  of  her  former  correspondents;  and  to  com- 
pensate, by  a  speedy  abundance,  the  sterility  of  seven- 
ty years. 

Thus,3  in  proportion  as  the  Almighty  shall  give 
Tyre  an  opportunity  of  recovering  her  trade  and  cre- 
dit, she  will  return  to  her  former  shameful  traffic, 
which  God  had  ruined,  by  stripping  her  of  the  great 
possessions  which  she  had  applied  to  such  pernicious 
jses. 

But  at  last,*  Tyre,  converted  by  the  Gospel,  shall 
no  more  be  n  scandal  and  a  stumbling-block  to  na- 
tions. She  shall  no  longer  sacrifice  her  labour  to  the 
idolatry  of  wealth,  but  to  the  worship  of  the  Lord, 
and  the  comfort  of  those  that  serve  him.  She  shall 
no  longer  render  her  riches  barren  and  useless  by  de- 
taining them,  but  shall  scatter  them,  like  fruitful  seed, 
from  the  hands  of  believers  and  ministers  of  the 
Gospel. 

One  of  God's  designs,  in  the  prophecies  just  now 
cited,  is  to  give  us  a  just  idea  of  a  trafic,  whose  only 
motive  is  avarice,  and  whose  fruits  are  pleasures,  va- 
nity., and  the  corruption  of  morals.  Mankind  look 
upon  cities  enriched  by  a  commerce  like  that  of  Tyre 
(and  it  is  the  same  with  private  persons,)  as  happier 
than  any  other;  as  worthy  of  envy,  and  as  fit,  (from 
tht  ir  industry,  labour,  and  the  success  of  their  appli- 
cation and  conduct)  to  be  proposed  as  patterns  for  the 
rest  to  copy  after;  but  God,  on  the  contrary,  exhi- 
bi's  them  to  us  under  the  shameful  image  of  a  woman 
lost  to  all  sense  of  virtue;  whose  only  view  is  to  se- 
duce and  corrupt  youth ;  who  only  sooths  the  passions 
and  tlatters  thfc  senses;  who  abhors  modesty  and  eve- 
ry sentiment  of  honour;  and  who,  banishing  from  her 
countenance  every  indication  of  shame,  glories  in  her 
Ignominy.  We  are  not  to  infer  from  hence,  that  traf- 
fic is.  sinful  in  itself;  hut  we  should  separate  from  the 
essential  foundation  of  trade,  which  is  just  and  lawful 
when  rightly  used,  the  passions  of  men  which  inter- 
mix with,  and  bv  that  means  .pervert  the  order  and 
end  of  it.  Tyre,  converted  to  Christianity,  teaches 
merchants  in  what  manner  they  are  to  carry  on  their 
traffic,  and  the  uses  to  which  they  ought  to  apply 
their  profits. 

SECTION  VII.— DARIUS  WRITES  A  SECOND  LET- 
TER TO  AI.KXANDKR.  JOURNEY  OF  THE  LATTER 
TO  JERUSALEM.  THE  HONOUR  WHICH  HE  PAYS 
TO  JADDUS  THE  HIGH-PRIEST.  HE  IS  SHOWN 
THOSE  PROPHECIF-I  OF  DAINEL  WHICH  RELATE  TO 
HIMSELF.  THE  KING  GRANTS  GREAT  PRIVILEGES 
TO  THE  JEWS,  HUT  REFUSES  THEM  TO  THE  SA- 
MARITANS HK  KESIEGES  AND  TAKES  GAZA,  EN- 
TERS EGYPT,  AND  SUBDUES  THAT  COUNTRY.  HE 
THERE  LAYS  THE  FOUNDATIONS  OF  ALEXANDRIA. 
THEN  GOES  INTO  LYBIA,  WHERE  HE  VISITS  THE 
TEMPLE  OF  JUPITER  AMMON,  AND  CAUSES  HIM- 
SELF TO  BE  DECLARED  THE  SON  OF  THAT  GOD. 
HIS  RETURN  INTO  EGYPT. 

WHILST  Alexander  was  carrying  on  the  siege  of 
Tyre,5  he  had  received  a  second  letter  from  Darius, 
who  at  last  gave  him  the  title  of  king.  "  He  offered 


i  I<n.  xxiii.  15.  »  Ibul.  ver.  IB. 

•  Ibid   ver.  17.  4  Ibid,  xxiii.  18. 

•  Plut.  in  Alex,  p  681.    ftuiut.  Curt.  1.  iv.  c.5.      Arrian 
11  p.   101. 


him  10,000  talents  (about  1,500,000!.;  as  a  ransom 
for  th-i  captive  princesses,  and  his  daughter  Statira  ir, 
marriage,  with  all  the  country  he  hud  conquered  as 
far  as  the  Euphrates.  Darius  hinted  to  him  the  in- 
constancy of  fortune;  and  described,  in  the  most 
pompous  terms,  the  numberless  troops  who  were  etill 
under  his  command.  Conld  he  (Alexander)  think 
that  it  was  so  very  easy  to  cross  the  Euphrates,  the 
Tigris,  the  Araxes,  and  the  Hydaspes,  which  were  as 
so  many  bulwarks  to  the  Persian  empire?  That  he 
should  not  be  always  shut  up  between  rocks  and  He- 
files:  that  they  ought  both  to  appear  in  an  open  plain, 
and  that  then'Alexander  would  be  ashamed  to  come 
before  him  with  only  a  handful  of  men."  The  king 
thereupon  summoned  a  council,  in  which  I'armenio 
was  of  opinion,  that  he  ought  to  accept  of  these  of- 
fers, declaring  he  himself  would  agree  to  them,  were 
he  Alexander.  "And  so  would  I,"  replied  Alexan- 
der, "  were  I  Farmenio."  He  therefore  returned  the 
following  answer:  "  That  he  did  not  want  the  money 
Darius  offered  him:  that  it  did  not  become  Darius  to 
offer  a  thing  fie  no  longer  possessed,  or  to  pretend  to 
share  what  he  had  entirely  lost:  that  in  case  he  was 
the  only  person  who  did  not  know  which  of  them 
was  superior,  a  battle  would  soon  determine  it:  that 
he  should  not  think  to  intimidate  with  rivers,  a  man 
who  had  crossed  so  many  seas:  that  to  whatsoever 
place  he  might  find  it  proper  to  retire,  Alexander 
would  not  fail  to  find  him  out."  Darius,  upon  receiving; 
this  answer,  lost  nil  hopes  of  an  accommodation,  and 
prepared  again  for  war. 

From  Tyre,6  Alexander  marched  to  Jerusalem 
firmly  resolved  to  show  it  no  more  favour  than  he  had 
the  former  city:  and  for  this  reason.  The  Tyriang 
were  so  much  employed  in  trade,  that  they  quite  ne- 
glected husbandry,  and  brought  most  of  their  corn  and 
other  provisions  from  the  countries  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Galilee,7  Samaria,  and  Judea,  furnished  them 
with  the  greatest  quantities.  At  the  time  that  Alex- 
ander laid  siege  to  their  city,  he  himself  was  obliged 
to  send  for  provisions  from  those  countries:  he  there- 
fore sent  commissaries  to  summon  the  inhabitants  to 
submit,  and  furnish  his  army  with  whatever  they 
might  want.  The  Jews,  however,  desired  to  be  ex- 
cused, alledging,  that  they  had  taken  an  oath  of  fideli- 
ty to  Darius;  and  persisted  in  answering  that  they 
would  never  acknowledge  any  other  sovereign  at 
long  as  he  was  living;  a  rare  example  of  fidelity,  and 
worjhj  of  the  only  people  who  in  that  age  acknow- 
ledged the  true  God  !  The  Samaritans,  however,  did 
not  imitate  them  in  this  particular;  for  they  submit- 
ted with  cheerfulness  to  Alexander,  and  even  sent  him 
8000  men  to  serve  at  the  siege  of  Tyre,  and  in  other 
places.  For  the  better  understanding  of  what  fol- 
lows, it  may  be  necessary  for  us  to  present  the  reader, 
in  few  words,  with  the  state  of  the  Samaritans  at  that 
time,  and  the  cause  of  the  strong  antipathy  which  ex- 
isted between  them  nnd  the  Jews. 

I  observed,  elsewhere,8  that  the  Samaritans  did  not 
descend  from  the  Israelites,  but  were  a  colony  of 
idolaters,  taken  from  the  countries  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Euphrates,  whom  Esarhaddttn,  king  of  the  As- 
syrians, had  sent  to  inhabit  the  cities  of  Samaria,  af- 
ter the  ruin  of  the  kingdom  of  the  ten  tribes.  These 
people,  who  were  called  Citthcfi,  blended  the  worship 
of  the  God  of  Israel  with  that  of  their  idols;  and  on 
all  occasions  discovered  an  enmity  to  the  Jews.  This 
hatred  was  much  stronger  after  the  return  of  the  Jews 
from  the  Babylonish  captivity,  before  and  after  the 
restoration  of  the  temple. 

Notwithstanding  the  reformation  which  the  holy 
man,  Nehemiah,  had  wrought  in  Jerusalem,  with  re- 
gard to  the  marrying  of  strange  or  foreign  women, 
the  evil  had  spread  so  far,  that  the  high-priest's  house, 
which  ought  to  have  been  pure  more  than  any  other 
from  these  criminal  mixtures,  was  itself  polluted  with 
them.  One  of  the  sons  of  Jehoiada  the  high-priest,* 
whom  Josephus  calls  Mannsseh,  had  married  the 
daughter  of  Sanballat  the  Horonite;  and  many  more 
had  followed  his  example.  But  Neheminh,  zealoul 
for  the  law  of  God,  which  was  so  shamefully  violated, 


•  Joseph.  Antiq.  1.  xi.e.  8. 

•  Vol.  II.  Hilt,  of  the  Assyri*ni' 


t  Arts  xii.  20. 
•  Nch.  xiii.aa. 


552 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


commanded,  without  exception,  all  who  had  married 
•trance  women,  either  to  put  them  away  immediately, 
or  to  depart  the  country.  Manasseh  chose  to  go  into 
banishment  rather  than  to  separate  himself  from  his 
'wilt,1  and  accordingly  withdrew  to  Samaria,  whither 
he  was  followed  by  great  numbers  as  obstinate  in  re- 
bellion as  himself;  he  there  settled  them  under  the 
protection  of  Sanbailat,  his  father-in-law,  who  was 
governor  of  that  country. 

The  latter  obtained  of  Darius  Nothus  (whom  pro- 
bably the  war  which  broke  out  between  Egypt  and 
Persia  had  brought  into  Phoenicia,)  leave  to  build  on 
mount  Gerizim,  near  Samaria,  a  temple  like  that  of 
Jerusalem,  and  to  appoint  Manasseh,  his  son-in-law, 
prie.«t  thereof.  From  that  time,  Samaria  became  the 
esvlum  of  all  the  malcontents  of  Judea.  And  it  was 
this  which  raised  the  hatred  of  the  Jews  against  the 
Samaritans  to  its  greatest  height,  when  they  saw 
that  the  latter,  notwithstanding  the  express  prohibi- 
tion of  the  law,  which  fixed  the  solemn  worship  of 
the  God  of  Israel  in  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  had  never- 
theless raised  altar  against  altar,  and  temple  against 
temple,  and  afforded  a  refuge  to  all  who  fled  from 
Jerusalem,  to  screen  themselves  from  the  punishment 
which  would  have  been  indicted  on  them  for  violating 
the  law. 

Such  was  the  state  of  Judea,  when  Alexander  laid 
siege  to  Tyre.  The  Samaritans,  as  we  before  ob- 
served, sent  him  a  considerable  body  of  troops,  where- 
as the  Jews  thought  they  could  not  submit  to  him,  as 
long  as  Darius,  to  whom  they  had  taken  an  oath  of 
allegiance,  should  be  alive. 

Alexander,  being  little  used  to  such  an  answer, 
particularly  after  he  had  obtained  so  many  victories, 
and  thinking  that  all  things  ought  to  bow  before  him, 
resolved,  the  instant  he  had  conquered  Tyre,  to 
march  against  the  Jews,  and  punish  their  disobedi- 
ence as  rigorously  as  he  had  punished  that  of  the 
Tyrians. 

In  this  imminent  danger,  Jaddus,  the  high-priest, 
who  governed  under  the  Persians,  seeing  himself  ex- 
posed with  all  the  inhabitants,  to  the  wrath  of  the 
conqueror,  had  recourse  to  the  protection  of  the  Al- 
mighty, gave  orders  that  public  pravers  should  be 
made  to  implore  his  assistance,  and  offered  sacrifices. 
The  night  after,  God  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream, 
and  bid  him,  "To  cause  flowers  to  be  scattered  up 
and  down  the  city;  to  sot  open  all  the  gates,  and  go, 
clothed  in  his  pontifical  robes,  with  all  the  priests, 
dressed  also  in  their  vestments,  and  all  the  rest  clothed 
in  white,  to  meet  Alexander,  and  not  to  fear  any  evil 
from  that  king,  inasmuch  as  He  would  protect  them." 
This  demand  was  punctually  obeyed;  and  accord- 
ingly this  august  procession,  the  very  day  after, 
marched  out  ot  the  city  to  an  eminence  called  Sop/in,2 
whence  there  was  a  view  of  all  the  plain,  as  well  as 
of  the  temple  ar>d  city  of  Jerusalem.  Here  the  whole 
procession  waited  the  arrival  of  Alexander. 

The  Syrians  of  Phoenicia,  who  were  in  his  army, 
were  persuaded  that  the  wrath  of  this  prince  was  so 
great,  that  he  would  certainly  punish  the  high-priest 
in  an  exemplary  manner,  and  destroy  that  city  in  the 
game  manner  as  he  had  done  Tyre;  and  flushed  with 
joy  on  that  account,  they  waited  in  expectation  of 
glutting  their  eyes  with  the  calamities  of  a  people  to 
whom  they  bore  a  mortal  hatred.  As  soon  as  the 
Jews  heard  of  the  king's  apporach,  they  set  out  to 
meet  him  with  all  the  pomp  before  described.  Alex- 
ander was  struck  at  the  sight  of  the  high-priest,  in 
whose  mitre  and  forehead  a  golden  plate  w:is  fixed, 
on  which  the  name  of  God  was  written.  The  mo- 
ment the  king  perceived  the  high-priest,  he  advanced 
towards  him  with  an  air  of  the  most  profound  respect; 
bowed  his  body,  adored  the  ausrust  name  upon  his 
front,  and  saluted  him  who  wore  it  with  a  religious 
Tenemtion.  Then  the  Jews,  surrounding  Alexander, 
raised  their  voices  to  wish  him  every  kind  of  prospe- 
rity. All  the  spectators  were  seized  with  inex- 
pressible surprise;  they  could  scarce  believe  their 
eyes,  and  did  not  know  how  to  account  for  a  sight 


so    contrary   to    their   expectation,  and   so  very   .u 
irobalile. 

Parmenio,  who  could  not  yet  recover  from  his  as- 
tonishment, asked  the  king  how  it  came  to  pass  that 
he,  who  was  adored  by  every  one,  adored  the  high- 
priest  of  the  Jews.  "  1  do  not,"  replied  Alexander, 
"adore  the  high-priest,  but  the  God  whose  minister 
he  is;  for  whilst  1  was  at  Dium  in  Macedonia  (my 
mind  wholly  fixed  on  the  great  design  of  the  Ptr-ian 
war,)  us  I  was  revolving  by  what  means  I  should  con- 
qutr  Asia,  this  very  man,  dressed  in  the  same  robes, 
appeared  to  me  in  a  dream;  exhorted  me  to  banish 
every  fear,  bid  me  cross  the  Hellespont  boldly;  and 
•assured  me  that  his  God  would  march  at  the  head  of 
my  army,  and  give  me  the  victory  over  that  of  the 
Persians."  Alexander  added,  that  the  instant  he  saw 
this  priest,  he  knew  him  by  his  habit,  his  stature,  hi* 
air,  and  his  face,  to  be  tiie  same  person  whom  he  had 
seen  at  Dium;  that  he  was  firmly  persuaded,  it  was 
by  the  command,  and  under  the  immediate  conduct 
of  Heaven  that  he  had  undertaken  this  war;  tliat  he 
was  sure  he  should  overcome  Darius  hereafter,  and 
destroy  the  empire  of  the  Persians;  and  that  this  wai 
the  reason  why  he  adored  this  God  is:  the  person  of 
his  priest.  Alexander,  after  having  thus  answered 
Parmenio,  embracd  the  high-priest,  and  all  his  breth- 
ren; then  walking  in  the  midst  of  them,  he  arrived 
at  Jerusalem,  where  he  offered  sacrifices  to  God,  in 
the  temple,  after  the  manner  prescribed  to  him  by  the 
high-priest. 

The  high-priest,  afterwards,  showed  him  those  pas- 
sages in  the  prophecy  of  Daniel,  which  are  spoken  of 
that  monarch.  I  shall  here  give  an  abstract  of  them, 
which  will  plainly  show  how  the  most  distant  event* 
are  present  to  the  Almighty. 

God  declares  by  the  prophet  Daniel,3  that  grandeur, 
empire,  and  glory,  are  his;  that  he  bestows  them  on 
whomsoever  he  pleases,  and  withdraws  them  in  like 
manner,  to  punish  the  abuse  of  them;  that  his  wis- 
dom and  power  solely  determine  the  course  ot  events 
in  all  ages;  that  he  changes,  according  to  his  will,  the 
whole  face  of  human  affairs;4  that  he  sets  up  new 
kingdoms,  overthrows  the  ancient  ones,  and  effaces 
even  the  very  footsteps  of  them,  with  the  same  ease 
as  the  wind  carries  off  the  smallest  chaff  from  the 
threshing-lloor. 

God's  design,  in  subjecting  states  to  such  astonish- 
ing revolutions,5  is  to  teach  men,  that  they  are  in  his 
presence  as  nothing;  that  he  alone  is  the  Most  High, 
the  eternal  King,  the  sovereign  arbiter,  who  doth 
whatsoever  he  will  with  supreme  power,  both  in  hea- 
ven and  earth,  for  the  putting  this  design  in  execu- 
tion,6 the  prophet  sees  an  august  council,  in  which 
the  angels,  who  are  appointed  as  inspectors  and  guar- 
dians of  governments  and  kings,  inquire  into  the  use 
which  they  make  of  the  authority  that  Heaven 
intrusted  them  with,  as  his  ministers;  and  when  they 
abuse  it,  these  spirits,7  zealous  for  the  glory  of  their 
sovereign,  beseech  God  to  punish  their  injustice  and 
ingratitude;  and  to  humble  their  pride,  by  casting 
them  from  the  throne,  and  causing  the  most  abject 
among  mankind  to  ascend  it  in  their  stead. 

God,8  to  make  these  important  truths  still  more 
sensible,  shows  Daniel  four  dreadful  beasts  who  rise 
from  a  vast  sea,  in  which  the  four  winds  combat  to- 
gether with  fury  ;  and  under  these  s\  mboU,  he  repre- 
sents to  the  prophet  the  origin,  the  characteristics, 
and  fall,  of  the  four  great  empires,  which  are  to  go- 
vern the  whole  world  successively.  A  dreadful,  but 
too  real  image!  For  empires  rise  out  of  tumult  and 
confusion;  they  subsist  by  blood  and  slaughter;  they 
exercise  their  power  with  violence  and  cruelly;  they 
think  it  glorious  to  carry  terror  and  desolation  into 
all  places ;  but  yet  in  spite  of  their  utmost  efforts,  they 
are  subject  to  continual  vicissitudes  and  unforeseen 
reverses  of  fortune. 

The  prophet  then  relates  more  particularly  the 
character  of  each  of  these  empires.10  After  having 


>   tfOwpli.    Anliquit. 

•  The  Hebrew  word  Sapha  signifies  to  discover  from  far 
U  from  a  tcwer  or  sentry-box. 


*  Dan   ii.  W,  21.  37.  *  Ibid,  ii  35 

•  Ibid.  iv.  32.  34—36.  •  ll>id.  ver    17. 

'  It  was  at  the  dpsire  of  these  angels,  that  \cliurlia('.ne«- 
zar  was  driven  from  the  socicly  of  men  to  herd  viilt-  wiW 
beatu.  •  Dan.  vii.  2,  3.  •'  Dan.  vcr,  4-  •. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


553 


represented  the  empire  of  the  Babylonians  under  the 
image  of  a  lioness,  and  that  of  the  Medes.  and  Pe r- 
lians  under  the  form  of  a  bear  greedy  of  prey,  lie 
draws  the  picture  of  the  Grecian  monarchy,  by  pre- 
senting us  with  some  of  its  most  striking  iV:itur«s. 
Under  the  image  of  a  spotted  leopard,  with  four 
beads  and  four  wings  he  depicts  Alexander,  in  whom 
£ood  and  bad  qualm?:  are  intermixed;  rash  and  im- 
petuous in  his  resolutions,  rapid  in  his  conquests;  Hy- 
ing with  the  swiftness  of  a  bird  of  prey,  rather  than 
marching  with  the  weight  of  an  army  laden  with  the 
whole  equipage  of  war;  supported  by  the  valour  and 
capacity  of  Ins  generals,  four  of  whom,  after  having 
•ssiitul  him  in  conquering  his  empire, divide  it  among 
themselves. 

To  this  picture  the  prophet  adds  elsewhere  new 
touch.--!.1  He  enumerates  the  order  of  the  succession 
of  the  kings  of  Persia;  he  declares,  in  precise  terms, 
that  afier  the  first  three  kings,  viz.  Cyrus,  Cambyses, 
and  Darius,  a  fourth  monarch  will  arise,  who  is  Xer- 
xes; anil  that  he  will  exceed  all  his  predecessors  in 
power  ar.d  in  riches;  tlmt  this  prince,  puffed  up  with 
the  idea  of  his  own  grandeur,  which  shall  have  risen 
to  its  highest  pitch,  will  assemble  all  the  people  in  his 
boundless  dominions,  and  lead  them  to  the  conquest 
of  Greece.  But  as  the  prophet  takes  notice  only  of 
the  march  <  f  this  multitude,  and  does  not  tell  us  ivhat 
success  I  he  7  met  with,  he  thereby  gives  us  pretty 
clearlv  to  uiderstand,  that  Xerxes,  an  effeminate,  in- 
judicious, and  fearful  prince,  will  not  have  the  least 
success  in  ai  v  of  his  vast  projects. 

On  the  c(  ntrary.  from  among  these  very  Greeks,2 
attacked  unsuccessfully  by  the  Persians,  there  will 
arise  a  king  rcrv  different  from  Xerxes:  and  this  is 
Alexander  tie  Gnat.  He  shall  be  a  bold,  valiant 
monarch;  he  ihall  succeed  in  all  his  enterprise-:  he 
shall  extend  his  dominion  far  and  wide,  and  shall  es- 
tablish an  irresistible  power  on  the  ruins  of  the  van- 
quished natious;  but  at  a  time  wk  en  he  shall  imagine 
himself  to  be  most  firmly  seateo  on  the  throne,  he 
shall  lose  his  life,  with  the  rega,  dignity,  and  not 
leave  anv  posterity  to  succeed  him  in  it.  This  new 
monarchy,  los.ng  on  a  sudden  the  splendour  and 
power  for  whi-oh  it  was  so  renowned  under  Alexan- 
der, shall  divide  itself  towards  the  four  winds  of  hea- 
ven. From  its  ruins  there  shall  arise  not  only  the 
four  great  kingdoms  of  Egypt,  Syria,  Asia  Minor,  and 
Macedon,  but  also  several  other  foreigners,  or  barba- 
rians, shall  usurp  its  provinces,  and  form  kingdoms 
out  of  these. 

At  length,8  in  the  eighth  chapter,  the  prophet  com- 
pletes the  description  in  still  stronger  colours,  of  the 
character,  the  battles,  the  series  of  successes,  the  rise 
and  fall  of  these  two  rival  empires.  By  the  image  he 
(fives  of  a  powerful  ram,  having  two  horns  of  an  une- 
qual length,  he  declares  that  the  first  of  these  empires 
snail  be  composed  of  Persians  and  Medes;  that  its 
strength  shall  consist  in  the  union  of  these  two  na- 
tion?; that  the  Persians  shall  nevertheless  exceed  the 
Medes  in  authority;  that  they  shall  have  n  series  of 
conquests,  without  meeting  with  any  opposition;  that 
they  shall  first  extend  them  towards  the  west,  by  sub- 
duing the  Lydians,  the  provinces  of  Asia  Minor  and 
Thrace;  'hat  they  shall  afterwards  turn  their  arms 
towards  the  north,  in  order  to  subdue  part  of  Scy- 
thia,  and  the  nations  bordering  on  the  Caspian  sea; 
that  at  length  they  shall  endeavour  to  enlarge  their 
dominions  towards  the  south,  by  subjecting  Egypt  and 
Arabia,  but  that  they  shall  not  invade  the  nations  of 
the  east. 

The  monarchy  of  the  Greeks  is  afterward*  exhibit- 
ed to  Daniel,  under  the  symbol  of  a  he-soat  of  a  pro- 
digious sire:  he  perceive?  that  the  Macedonian  army 
will  march  from  the  west,  in  order  to  invade  the  em- 
pire of  the  Persians;  that  it  will  be  headed  by  a  war- 
rior famous  for  his  power  and  glory;  that  it  willnmke 
immense  marches,  it*  quest  of  the  enemy,  even  into 
the  very  heart  of  his  dominions:  that  it  will  advance 
towards  the  enemy  with  such  rapidity,  as  to  seem  not 
to  touch  the  ground;  that  it  will  give  this  empire  its 
mortal  wound;  entirely  subvert  it  by  repeated  victo- 


t  Dan.xi.  2. 
Yd.  1—70 


•  Ibid  vcr.  3,  4. 


•  Ibid  viii. 


ries,  and  destroy  the  double  power  of  the  Persians 
and  Medes;  during  which  not  one  monarch,  whether 
its  ally  or  neighbour,  shall  give  it  the  least  succour. 

But  as  soon  as  this  monarchy  shall  have  risen  to  iU 
•_']'•<  i -I  height,  Alexander  who  farmed  its  greate»t 
strength,  S!IH||  be  snatched  from  it,  and  then  there 
will  arise,  towards  the  four  parts  of  the  world,  four 
Grecian  monarchies,  which,  though  vastly  inferior  to 
that  of  Alexander,  will  however.be  very  considerable. 

Can  any  thing  be  more  wonderful,  more  divine, 
than  a  series  ol  prophecies,  all  of  them  so  clear,  so 
exact,  and  so  circumstantial;  prophecies  which  go  so 
far  as  to  point  out,  that  a  prince  shall  die  without 
leaving  a  single  successor  from  among  his  own  family, 
and  that  four  of  his  generals  will  divide  his  empire 
between  them'.'  But  we  must  peruse  these  prophe- 
cies in  the  Scriptures  themselves.  The  Vulgate 
agrees  pretty  nearly  with  the  Hebrew,  excej  t  in  a 
tew  pi. ices,  which  1  shall  translate  agreeable  to  the 
original  text.4 

"  In  the  third  year  of  the  reign  of  king  Belshazzar,* 
a  vision  appeared  unto  me,  even  unto  mi:  Daniel,  af- 
ter that  which  appeared  unto  me  at  the  first.  And  I 
saw  in  a  vision  (and  it  came  to  pass  when  I  saw,  thai 
I  was  at  Shushan  in  the  palace,  which  is  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Khun,)  and  1  saw  in  a  vision,  and  I  was  by 
the  river  of  Ulai.  Then  I  lifted  up  mine  eyes,  anil 
saw,  and  behold  there  stood  before  the  river  a  ram, 
which  had  two  horns;  and  the  two  horns  were  high; 
but  one  was  higher  than  the  other,  and  the  higher 
came  up  last.  I  saw  the  ram  pushing  westward,  and 
northward,  and  southward;  so  that  no  beast  might 
stand  before  him,  neither  was  there  any  that  could 
deliver  out  of  his  hand;  but  he  did  according  to  his 
will,  and  became  great.  And  as  I  was  considering, 
behold  an  he-goat  came  from  the  west,  on  the  face 
of  the  whole  earth,  and  touched  not  the  ground;  and 
the  goat  had  a  notable  horn  between  his  eyes.  And 
he  came  to  the  ram  that  had  two  horns,  which  I  had 
seen  standing  before  the  river,  and  ran  unto  him  in 
the  fury  of  his  power.  And  I  saw  him  come  close 
unto  the  ram,  and  he  was  moved  with  choler  against 
him,  and  smote  the  ram, and  brake  his  two  horns;  and 
there  was  no  power  in  the  ram  to  stand  before  him, 
but  he  cast  him  down  to  the  ground,  and  stamped 
upon  him;  and  there  was  none  that  could  uei'vi  r  the 
ram  out  of  his  hand.  Therefore  the  he-goat  waxed 
very  great;  and  when  he  was  strong,  the  great  horn 
was  broken;  and  for  it  came  up  four  notable  ones  to- 
wards the  four  winds  of  heaven." 

A  great  number  of  very  important  reflections  might 
be  made  on  the  prophecies  I  have  now  repeated;  but 
these  I  shall  leave  to  the  reader's  understand  ing  and 
religion,  and  will  make  but  one  remark;  on  which, 
however,  I  shall  not  expatiate  to  much  as  the  subject 
miirtil  deserve. 

The  Almighty  presides  in  general  over  all  events 
which  happen  in  the  world;  and  rules, with  absolute 
sway  the  fate  of  all  men  in  particular,  of  all  cities, 
and  of  all  empires;  but  he  conceals  the  o|>erations  of 
his  wisdom,  and  the  wonders  of  his  providence,  be* 
neath  the  veil  of  natural  causes  and  ordinary  events. 
In  all  that  profane  history  exhibits  to  us,  whether 
sieges,  or  the  rapture  of  cities;  battles  won  or  lost, 
empires  established  or  overthrown;  there  bppears 
nothing  but  what  is  human  and  natural:  God  seems 
to  have  no  concern  in  these  things,  and  we  should  be 
tempted  to  believe  that  he  abandons  men  entirely  to 
their  views,  their  talents,  and  their  passions;  if  we 
perhaps,  except  the  Jewish  nation,  whom  he  consi- 
dered as  his  own  peculiar  people,  and  as  his  own  he- 
ritage. 

To  prevent  our  falling  into  a  temptation  so  repug 
nant  to  religion  and  even  reason  itself  God  occasion 
ally  breaks  silence,  ciiperse*  the  clouds  which  hide 
him,  and  condescends  to  discover  to  us  the  secret 
springs  of  his  providence,  by  causing  his  prophets  to 
forrttll.  long  before  the  event,  the  fate  he  has  pre- 
pared for  the  different  nations  of  the  earth.  He  re 
veals  to  Daniel  the  order,  thf-  succession,  and  the  dif- 

«  We  have  not  followed  M.  Rullin'i  translation  here,  bv 
lievin''  it  more  proper  toius.kc  uaeofour  own  version  of  it* 
Bible.  '  Dan.  viii.  1—3 

2  VV 


554 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


feront  characteristics  of  the  four  great  empires  to 
which  he  has  determined  to  subject  to  all  the  nations 
of  the  universe,  viz,  that  of  the  Babylonians,  of  the 
Persians  and  Medes,  of  the  Greeks,  and  lastly,  that 
of  the  Romans. 

It  is  with  the  same  view  that  he  dwells  very  forci- 
bly on  the  two  most  famous  conquerors  that  ever  ex- 
isted: I  mean  Cyrus  and  Alexander,  the  one  the 
founder,  the  other  the  destroyer,  of  the  powerful  em- 
prie  of  Persia.  He  causes  the  former  to  be  called  by 
his  inline  two  hundred  years  before  his  birth;  fore- 
•tells,  by  the  month  of  Isaiah,  his  victories;  and  par- 
ticularizes the  several  circumstances  of  the  taking  of 
Babylon,  the  like  of  which  had  never  been  seen  be- 
fore. On  this  occasion,  he  points  out  Alexander,  by 
the  mouth  of  Daniel,  and  ascribes  such  qualities 
and  characteristics  as  can  agree  with  none  but  him, 
and  which  denote  him  as  plainly  as  if  he  had  called 
him  by  his  name. 

These  passages  of  Scripture,  in  which  God  explains 
himself  clearly,  should  be  considered  as  very  precious, 
and  serve  as  so  many  keys  to  open  to  our  understanding 
the  secret  methods  by  which  he  governs  the  world. 
These  bright  rays  of  light  should  enable  a  rational 
and  religious  man  to  see  every  thing  else  clearly ;  and 
make  him  conclude,  from  what  is  said  of  the  four 
great  empires,  of  Cyrus  and  Alexander,  of  Babylon 
and  Tyre,  that  we  ought  to  acknowledge  and  admire, 
in  the'several  events  of  profane  history,  God's  perpe- 
tual care  and  regard  for  all  men  and  all  states,  whose 
destiny  depends  entirely  on  hi*  wisdom,  his  power, 
and  his  pleasure. 

We  may  easily  figure  to  ourselves  the  great  joy 
and  admiration  with  which  Alexander  was  filled,  up- 
on hearing  such  clear,  such  circumstantial,  and  ad- 
vantageous promises.  Before  he  left  Jerusalem,  he 
assembled  the  Jews,  and  bade  them  ask  any  favour 
whatsoever.  They  answered,  that  their  request  was, 
to  be  allowed  to  live  according  to  the  law  of  their  fa- 
thers, and  to  be  exempt,  every  seventh  year,  from 
their  usual  tribute;  and  for  this  reason,  because  they 
were  forbidden,  by  their  laws,  in  that  year,  to  sow 
their  fields,  and  consequently  could  have  no  harvest. 
Alexander  granted  theirrequest:  and,  upon  the  high- 
priest's  beseeching  him  to  suffer  the  Jews,  who  were 
resident  in  Babylonia  and  Media,  to  live  likewise 
agreeable  to  their  own  laws,  he  also  indulged  them 
in  this  particular  with  the  utmost  humanity  ;  and  said 
farther,  that  in  case  any  of  them  were  willing  to  serve 
under  his  standards,  he  would  give  them  leave  to 
follow  their  own  way  of  worship,  and  to  observe  their 
peculiar  customs;  upon  which  offer  great  numbers 
enlisted  themselves. 

He  had  scarce  left  Jerusalem,  when  the  Samaritans 
waited  upon  him  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony, 
humbly  entreating  him  to  do  them  also  the  honour 
to  visit  their  temple.  As  they  had  submitted  volun- 
tarily to  Alexander,  and  sent  him  succours,  they  ima- 
gined that  they  deserved  his  favour  much  more  than 
the  Jews;  and  flattered  themselves  that  they  should 
obtain  the  same,  and  even  much  greater  indulgence. 
It  was  in  this  view  they  made  this  pompous  proces- 
sion, in  order  to  invite  Alexander  to  their  city;  and 
the  8000  men  they  had  sent  to  serve  under  him,  join- 
ed in  the  request  made  by  their  countrymen.  Alex- 
ander thanked  them  courteously,  but  said,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  march  into  Egypt,  and  therefore  had 
no  time  to  lose;  however,  that  he  would  visit  their 
city  at  his  return,  in  case  he  had  opportunity.  They 
then  besought  him  to  exempt  them  from  paying  tri- 
bute every  seventh  year;  upon  which  Alexander 
asked  them,  whether  they  were  Jews?  They  made 
an  ambiguous  answer,  which  the  king  not  having  time 
to  examine,  suspended  this  matter  also  till  his  return, 
and  immediately  continued  his  march  towards  Gaza. 

Upon  his  arrival  before  that  city,1  he  found  it  pro- 
vided with  a  strong  garrison,  commanded  by  Betis, 
one  of  Darius's  eunuchs.  This  governor,  who  was  a 
brave  man,  and  very  faithful  to  his  sovereign,  defend- 
ed it  with  great  vigour  against  Alexander.  As  this 


i  Ui.,.1. 1  zvii  p.  .WO.     Arrinn.  l.ii.  p.  101—103.     Flut. 
i  Alex.  f.  079.    duiiit  Curt.  I.  iv.  c.  6. 


was  the  only  inlet  or  pass  into  Egypt,  it  was  «bs»? 
lutely  necessary  for  him  to  conquer  it,  and  therefor* 
he  was  obliged  to  besiege  it.  But  although  every 
art  of  war  was  employed,  notwithstanding  his  soldier* 
fought  with  the  utmost  intrepidity,  he  was  however 
forced  to  lie  two  months  before  it.  F.xasperateii  at 
its  holding  out  so  long,  and  his  receiving  two  wounds, 
he  was  resolved  to  treat  the  governor,  the  inhabitants, 
and  soldiers,  with  a  barbarity  absolutely  inexcusable; 
for  he  cut  10,000  men  to  pieces,  and  sold  all  the  rest, 
with  their  wives  and  children,  for  slaves.  \Vhen  Be- 
tis, who  had  been  taken  prisoner  in  the  la-t  assault, 
was  brought  before  him  covered  with  honourable 
wounds,  instead  of  using  him  kindly,  as  his  vaLlui 
and  fidelity  justly  merited,  this  young  monarch,  who 
at  other  times  esteemed  bravery  even  in  an  enemy, 
fired  on  this  occasion  with  an  insolent  joy,  spok<>.  thus 
to  him:  "Betis,  thou  shall  not  die  the  death  thou 
desiredst.  Prepare  therefore  to  suffer  all  those  tor- 
ments which  vengeance  can  invent."  Betis,  looking 
upon  the  king  with  not  only  a  firm,  but  a  haughty 
air,  did  not  make  the  least  reply  to  his  menaces;  up- 
on which  the  king,  more  enraged  by  this  disdainful 
silence — "Observe,"  said  he,  "  I  beseech  you,  that 
dumb  arrogance.  Has  he  bended  the  knee?  Has  he 
spoke  so  much  as  one  submissive  word?  But  1  will 
conquer  this  obstinate  silence,  and  will  force  groans 
from  him,  if  I  can  draw  nothing  else."  At  last  Alex- 
ander's anger  rose  to  fury;*  his  conduct  now  begin- 
ning to  change  with  his  fortune;  he  ordered  a  hole 
to  be  made  through  his  heels,  when,  a  rope  being  put 
through  them,  and  tied  to  a  chariot,  he  caused  Beti» 
to  be  dragged  round  the  city  till  he  died.  He  boast- 
ed his  having  imitated  on  this  occasion,  Achilles,  from 
whom  he  was  descended;  who,  as  Homer  relates, 
caused  the  dead  body  of  Hector  to  be  dragged  in  the 
same  manner  round  the  w*lls  of  Troy;3  as  if  a  man 
ought  ever  to  pride  himself  on  having  imitated  a  bad 
example.  Both  were  very  barbarous;  but  Alexander 
was  much  more  so  in  causing  Betis  to  be  dragged 
alive;  and  for  no  other  reason,  but  because  he  had 
served  his  sovereign  with  bravery  imd  fidelity,  by 
defending  a  city  with  which  he  had  intrusted  him;  a 
fidelity,  that  ought  to  have  been  admired,  and  even 
rewarded  by  an  enemy,  rather  than  punished  in  go 
cruel  a  manner. 

He  sent  the  greatest  part  of  the  plunder  he  found 
in  Gaza  to  his  mother  Olympian,  to  Cleopatra  his  sis- 
ter, and  to  his  friends.  He  also  presented  I.eonidas, 
his  preceptor,  with  500  quintals*  of  frankincense, 
and  100  quintals  of  myrrh;  calling  to  mind  a  caution 
Leonidas  had  given  him  when  but  a  child,  and  which 
seemed,  even  at  that  time,  to  presage  the  conquests 
this  monarch  had  lately  achieved.  For  Leonidas, 
observing  Alexander  taking  up  whole  handfuls  of  in- 
cense at  a  sacrifice,  and  throw  it  into  the  fire,  said  to 
him:  "Alexander,  when  you  shall  have  conquered 
the  country  which  produces  these  spices,  you  (hen 
may  be  as  profuse  of  inrrnse  as  you  please;  but  till 
that  day  conies,  be  spari-i;^  of  what  you  have."  The 
monarch  therefore  writ  to  Leonidas  as  follow*:  "I 
send  you  n  large  quant  ty  of  incense  and  myrrh,  in 
order  that  you  may  no  longer  be  so  reserved  and 
sparing  in  your  sacrifices  to  the  gods." 

As  soon  as  Alexnndei    had   ended 
the  siege  of  Gaza,5  he  lelt  a  garrison         A.  M.  3673 
there,  and  turned  the  whole  power  of    Ant.  J.  C.  331 
his  arms  towards  Fgypt.      In  seren 
days'  march  he   arrived  I -Afore  Pe!u=mim,  whither  • 
great  number  of  EgypflWM  had  assembled,  with  all 
imaginable  diligence,  to  re.  .'ionize  him  for  their  scve- 
reiirn,  and  make  their  stibm  ision. 

The  haired  these  people  lx>re  to  the  Persians  wa§ 
*o  «Tra»,  thpt  it  wn?  of  little  i.v.isrquen~e  to  thf  m  who 
should  be  their  kinsr,  provided  they  could  but  meet 
with  an  avenger  who  would  roM:c  them  from  the  in- 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 


555 


science  and  indignity  with  which  themselves  and  their 
religion  were  treated.  For,  how  false  soever  a  religion 
may  be  (and  it  is  scarce  possible  to  imagine  one  more 
absurd  than  that  of  the  Egyptians,)  so  long  as  it  con- 
tinues to  be  the  established  religion,  the  people  will 
not  sutler  it  to  be  insulted;  nothing  affecting  their 
minds  so  strongly,  nor  inflaming  them  to  a  greater  de- 
gree. Ochus  had  caused  their  god  Apis  to  be  mur- 
dered, in  a  manner  highly  offensive  to  themselves  and 
their  religion;  and  the  Persians,  to  whom  he  had  left 
the  government,  continued  in  like  manner  to  ridicule 
th*t  deity.  Thus  several  circumstances  had  rendered 
the  Persians  so  odious,  that,  upon  Amyntas's  coining 
•  ttle  before  with  a  handful  of  men,  he  found  tin  in 
prepared  to  join  and  assist  him  in  expelling  the  Per- 
sians. 

This  Amyntas  had  deserted  from  Alexander,  and 
entered  into  the  service  of  Darius.  He  had  com- 
manded the  Grecian  forces  at  the  battle  of  Issus;  and 
having  escaped  into  Syria,  by  the  way  of  Tripoli, 
with  4000  men,  he  had  there  seized  upon  as  many 
\<  -.1  N  as  he  wanted,  burned  the  rest,  and  immediate- 
ly set  SHI!  towards  the  island  of  Cyprus,  and  after- 
wards towards  Pelusium,  which  he  took  by  surprise, 
upon,  feigning  that  he  had  a  commission  from  Darius., 
appointing  him  governor  of  Egypt,  in  the  room  of 
Sabaces,  killed  in  the  battle  of  Usus.  As  soon  as  he 
found  himself  possessed  of  this  important  city,  he 
threw  oti  the  mask,  and  made  public  pretensions  to 
the  crown  of  Egypt;  declaring,  that  the  motive  of 
his  coming  was  to  expel  the  Persians.  Upon  this  a 
multitude  of  Egyptians,  who  wished  for  nothing  so 
earnestly  as  to  free  themselves  from  these  insupport- 
able tyrants,  went  over  to  him.  He  then  marched 
directly  for  Memphis,  the  capital  of  the  kingdom; 
when,  coming  to  a  battle,  he  defeated  the  Persians, 
and  shut  them  up  in  the  city.  But,  after  he  had 
gained  this  victory,  having  neglected  to  keep  his 
soldiers  together,  they  straggled  up  and  down  in 
search  of  plunder;  which  the  enemy  seeing,  sallied 
out  upon  such  as  remained,  and  cut  them  to  pieces, 
with  Amyntas  their  leader. 

This  event,  so  far  from  lessening  the  aversion  the 
Egyptians  had  for  the  Persians,  increased  it  still 
more;  so  that  the  moment  Alexander  appeared  upon 
the  frontiers,  the  people,  who  were  all  disposed  to  re- 
ceive that  monarch,  ran  in  crowds  to  submit  to  him. 
His  arrival,  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  army,  pre- 
sented them  with  a  secure  protection,  which  Amyn- 
tas could  not  all'ord  them;  and,  from  this  con- 
sideration, they  all  declared  openly  in  his  favour. 
Mazu'iis,  who  commanded  in  Memphis,  finding  it 
would  be  to  no  purpose  for  him  tu  resist  so  great  a 
force,  and  that  Darius,  his  sovereign  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  succour  him,  set  open  the  gates  of  the 
citv  to  the  conqueror,  and  gave  up  800  talents,  about 
120.000/.  and  all  the  king's  furniture.  Thus,  Alex- 
ander possessed  himself  of  all  Egypt,  without  meet- 
ing with  the  least  opposition. 

At  Memphis  he  formed  a  design  of  visiting  the 
temple  of  Jupiter-Ammon.  This  temple  '  was  situated 
in  the  midst  of  the  sandy  deserts  of  Libya,  and  twelve 
days' journey  from  Memphis.  Ham,  the  son  of  Noah, 
first  peopled"  Egypt  and  Lib) a,  alter  the  flood;  and 
when  idolatry  began  to  gain  ground  in  the  world 
some  time  atier,  he  was  the  chief  deity  of  these  two 
countries,  in  which  his  descendants  had  continued. 
A  temple  wag  built  to  his  honour  in  the  midst  of 
these  deserts,  upon  a  spot  of  pretty  good  ground, 
•bout  two  leagues  broad.1  which  formed  a  kind  of 
inland  in  a  sea  i.f  sand.  It  is  he  whom  the  Greeks 
called  <bv<,  Jupiter.3  and  the  Egyptians  Amman.  In 
pr  >cess  of  time  these  two  names  were  joined,  and  he 
wais  called  Jtipiter-Jlmmon. 

The  motive  of  this  journey,  which  was  equally  rash 
•nd  dangerous,  was  owing  to  a  ridiculous  vanity.  Al- 
exander having  read  in  Homer,  and  other  fabulous 
•uthors  of  antiquity,  that  most  of  their  heroes  were 


>  Plin.  lib.  T.  e.9  •  Forty  furlonpi. 

»  For  lliis  reason  the  city  of  Kftfft.  which  the  Scripture** 
«il  Wo-AmnicH.  (Ike  city  of  Ham  or  of  .1m man)  it  called  by 
'tte  Greeks  ^'-.<r--.\i;,  or  the  city  of  Jupiter. 

•   erea.  ilvi.  25.    E»k.  xxx.  li.    Nihnm  iii.  I 


represented  as  sons  of  somede'ty;  and,  as  he  himself 
was  desirous  of  passing  for  a  hero,  he  was  determined 
to  have  some  god  for  his  lather.  Accordingly  he  fixed 
upon  Jupiter-Ammon  for  this  purpose,  ana  began  \>y 
bribing  the  pritsts,  and  teaching  them  the  part  they 
were  to  act. 

It  would  hare  been  to  no  purpose,  had  any  one  en- 
deavoured to  divert  him  from  a  design  which  wa* 
great  in  no  other  circumstance  than  the  pride  and  ex- 
travagance that  gave  birth  to  it.  Pulled  up  nith  his 
victories,  he  had  already  begun  to  assume,  as  Plutarch 
observes,  that  character  of  tcnaciousness  and  inflexi- 
bility which  will  do  nothing  but  command;  which 
cannot  sutler  advice,  and  much  less  bear  opposition; 
which  knows  neither  obstacles  nor  dangers;  which 
makes  the  beautiful  to  consist  in  impossibility;  in  a 
word,  which  fancies  itself  able  to  overcome,  not  oulj 
enemies,  but  time,  place,  and  the  whole  order  of  na- 
ture; the  usual  effect  of  a  long  series  of  prosperity, 
which  subdues  the  strongest,  and  make*  them  at 
length  forget  that  they  are  men.  \Ve  ourselves  have 
seen  a  famous  conqueror,4  who  prided  himself  upon 
treading  in  the  steps  of  Alexander,  carrying  farther 
than  he  had  ever  done  this  kind  of  savage  heroism; 
and  lay  it  down  as  a  maxim  to  himself,  never  to  re- 
cede from  his  resolution. 

Alexander  therefore  sets  out;  and 
going  down  the  river  from  Memphis  A.  M.  3673. 
till  he  came  to  the  sea,  he  coasts  along  Ant.  J.  C.  331. 
it;  and,  after  having  passed  Canopus, 
he  observes,  opposite  to  the  island  of  Pharos,  a  spot 
which  seemed  to  him  very  well  situated  for  the 
building  of  a  city.  He  himstlf  drew  the  plan  of  it, 
and  marked  out  the  several  places  where  the  temples 
and  public  squares  were  to  be  erected.  For  the 
building  it,  he  employed  Dinocrates  the  architect, 
who  had  acquired  great  reputation  by  his  rebuilding, 
at  Ephesus,  the  temple  of  Diana,  which  Herostratus 
had  burnt.  This  city  he  called  after  his  own  name 
Alexandria,  and  it  afterwards  rose  to  be  the  capital 
of  the  kingdom.  As  its  harbour,  which  was  very 
commodious,  had  the  Mediterranean  on  one  side,  and 
the  Kile  and  the  Red  Sea  in  its  neighbourhood,  it 
drew  all  the  traffic  of  the  east  and  west;  and  thereby 
became,  in  a  very  little  time,  one  of  the  most  flou- 
rishing cities  in  the  universe. 

Alexander  had  a  journey  to  go  of  1600  stadia,  or 
fourscore  French  leagues  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter- 
Ammon  ;s  and  most  of  the  way  was  through  sandy 
deserts.  The  soldiers  were  patient  enough  for  the 
first  two  days'  march,  before  they  arrived  in  the  ex- 
tensive dreadful  solitudes;  but  as  soon  as  they  found 
themselves  in  vast  plains,  covered  with  sand  of  a  pro- 
digious depth,  they  were  seized  with  terror.  Sur- 
rounded, as  with  a  sea,  they  gazed  round  as  far  as 
their  sight  could  extend,  to  discover,  if  possible,  some 
place  that  was  inhabited;  but  all  in  vain,  for  they 
could  not  perceive  so  much  as  a  single  tree,  nor  the 
least  footsteps  of  any  land  that  had  been  cultivated. 
To  increase  their  calamity,  the  water,  that  they  had 
brought  in  goat-skins,  upon  camels,  now  failed;  and 
there  was  not  so  much  as  a  single  drop  in  all  that 
sandy  desert.  They  therefore  were  reduced  to  th« 
sad  condition  of  dying  almost  with  thirst ;  not  to  men- 
tion the  danger  they  were  in  of  being  buried  under 
mountains  oTsand,  that  are  sometimes  raised  by  the 
winds,  and  which  had  formerly  destroyed  50,000  of 
Cambyses's  troops.  Every  thing  was  by  this  time 
scorched  to  so  violent  a  degree,  and  the  air  became 
so  hot.  that  the  men  could  scarcely  breathe;  when, 
on  a  sudden,  whether  by  chance,  say  the  historians, 
or  the  immediate  indulgence  of  Heaven,  the  sky  was 
so  completely  overspread  with  thick  clouds,  that  they 
hid  the  sun,  which  was  a  great  relief  to  the  army; 
though  they  were  still  in  want  of  water.  But  the 
storm  having  discharged  itself  in  a  violent  rain,  every 
soldier  got  as  much  a«  he  wanted;  and  some  were  so 
parched  with  thirst,  that  they  stood  with  their^months 
open,  and  calched  the  rein  as  it  fell.  The  judicious 
reader  know*  what  judgment  he  is  to  form  of  then 

*  Charle*  XII.  kin-  of  Sweden. 

•  [See  a  previous  note  on  ih«  geographical  litutlioocf 
thu  temple.] 


550 


HISTORY   OF  ALEXANDER. 


marvellous  incidents,  with  which  historians  have 
thought  proper  to  embellish  this  relation. 

They  ivere  several  (lays  in  crossing  these  deserts; 
and  upon  their  arriving  near  the  place  where  the 
oracle  stood,  they  perceived  a  great  number  ol  ravens 
flying  before  the  most  advanced  standard.  These 
ravens,  sometimes,  flew  to  the  ground  when  the  army 
marched  slowly;  and,  at  other  times,  advanced  for- 
ward, as  it' it  were  to  serve  them  as  guides,  till  they, 
at  last,  came  to  the  temple  of  the  god.  A  very  sur- 
prising circumstance  is,  that  although  this  oracle  be 
situated  in  the  midst  of  an  almost  boundless  solitude, 
it  nevertheless  is  surrounded  with  a  grove,  so  very 
shady,  that  the  sun-beams  can  scarcely  pierce  it;  not 
to  mention  that  this  grove  is  watered  with  several 
springs  of  fresh  water,  which  preserve  it  in  perpetual 
verdure.  It  is  related,  that  near  this  grove  there  is 
another,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  a  fountain,  called 
the  water,  or  fountain  of  the  gun.  At  day-break  it  is 
lukewarm,  at  noon  cold;  but  in  the  evening  it  grows 
warm*  r,  by  degrees,  and  at  midnight  is  boiling  hot; 
after  this,  as  day  approaches,  it  decreases  in  heat,  and 
continues  this  vicissitude  for  ewr. 

The  god,  who  is  worshipped  in  this  temple,  is  not 
represented  under  the  form  which  painters  and  sculp- 
tures generally  give  to  gods;  for  he  is  made  of  eme- 
ralds, and  other  precious  stones,  and  from  the  head 
to  the  navel  resembles  a  ram.1  The  king  being  come 
into  the  temple,  the  senior  priest  declared  him  to  be 
the  son  of  Jupiter;  and  assured  him,  that  the  god 
himself  bestowed  this  name  upon  him.  Alexander 
accepted  it  with  joy,  and  acknowledged  Jupiter  as 
his  father.  He  afterwards  asked  the  priest,  whether 
his  father  Jupiter  had  not  allotted  him  the  empire  of 
the  whole  world?  To  which  the  priest,  who  was 
as  much  a  flatterer  as  the  king  was  vain-glorious, 
answered,  that  he  should  be  monarch  of  the  universe. 
At  last  he  inquired,  whether  all  his  father's  murderers 
had  been  punished;  but  the  priest  replied,  that  he 
blasphemed;  that  his  father  was  immortal;  but  that 
with  regard  to  the  murderers  at"  Philip,  they  had  all 
been  extirpated;  adding,  that  he  should  be  invinci- 
ble, and  afterwards  take  his  seat  among  the  deities. 
Having  ended  his  sacrifice,  he  offered  magnificent 
presents  to  the  god,  and  did  not  forget  the  priests, 
who  had  served  his  purpose  so  well. 

Decorated  with  the  splendid  title  of  the  son  of  Ju- 
piter, and  fancying  hiinse.lf  raised  above  the  human 
species,  he  returned  from  his  journey  as  from  a  tri- 
umph, from  that  time,  in  all  his  letters,  his  orders, 
and  decrees,  he  always  assumed  this  title:  ALEXAN- 
DER KING,  SON  OFJ'UPITER-AM.MON:*  in  answer  to 
which,  Olvinpias,  his  mother,  one  day  made  a  very- 
witty  remonstrance  in  few  words,  by  desiring  him 
not  to  engage  her  in  any  quarrels  with  Juno. 

Whilst  Alexander  was  indulging  himself  in  these 
chimeras,  and  tasting  the  great  pleasure  his  vanity 
made  him  conceive  from  this  pompous  title,  every 
one  derided  him  in  secret;  ana  some,  who  had  not 
yet  put  on  the  yoke  of  abject  flattery,  ventured  to 
reproach  him  up'on  that  account;  but  they  paid  very 
dear  for  that  liberty,  as  the  sequel  will  show.  Not 
satisfied  with  endeavouring  to  pass  for  the  son  of  a 
goJ,  and  of  being  himself  persuaded,  if  indeed  this 
were  possible,  that  lie  really  was  such,  he  would  also 
pass  lor  a  god  himself;  till  at  last,  Providence  having 
brought  to  pass  through  him  the  events  of  -vhich  he 
was  chosen  to  hi  tire  instrument,  brought  him  to  his 
end,  and  thereby  levelled  him  with  the  rest  of  mortals. 

Alexander,  upon  his  return  from  the  temple  of  Ju- 
piter-Ammon,  being  arrived  at  the  Pains  Jlareotis, 
which  was  nut  far  from  the  island  of  Pharos,  made  a 
visit  to  his  new  city,  the  building  of  which  was  al- 
ready far  advanced.  He  took  the  best  methods  pos- 
sible to  people  it.  inviting  thither  persons  from  all 
quarters,  to  whom  he  offered  the  most  advantageous 
condili  .ns.  He  drew  to  it,s  among  others  a  con- 
siderable number  of  Jews,  by  allowing  them  very 


i  TliU  pH«»a?c  in  Quintn*  Purlin*  is  pretty  difficult,  and 
M  variou*ly  explained  liv  inirrjin  ii-ra. 

•  Vjirrn'apud  A.  (Ji-ll"  I.  xiii.  c.  4. 

•  Jiweph.  contra  Appiftn. 


great  privileges;  for  he  not  only  !eft  them  tne  iie» 
exercise  of  their  religion  and  laws,  but  put  them  on 
the  same  foot  in  every  respect  with  the  Macedonians 
whom  he  settled  there.  From  thence  he  went  to 
Memphis,  where  he  spent  the  wintt-r. 

Varro  observes,  that  at  the  time  this  king  built  Al- 
exandria, the  use  of  papyrut  (lor  writing)  WHS  found 
in  Egypt. 

During  Alexander's  stay  in  Memphis,*  he  settled 
the  a  (fairs  of  Egypt,  suffering  none  but  Macedonians 
to  command  the  troops.  He  divided  the  country  into 
districts,  over  each  of  which  he  appointed  a  lieutenant, 
who  received  orders  from  himself  only ;  not  thinking 
it  safe  to  intrust  the  general  command  of  all  the  troops 
to  one  single  person,  in  so  large  and  populous  a  coun- 
try. With  regard  to  the  civil  government,  he  invested 
one  Doloaspes,  an  Egyptian,  with  the  whole  power  of 
it;  for  being  desirous  that  Egypt  should  still  be  go- 
verned by  its  ancient  laws  and  customs,  he  wa*  of 
opinion  that  a  native  of  Egypt,  to  whom  they  must  he 
familiar,  was  fitter  for  that  office  than  any  foreigner 
whatsoever. 

To  hasten  the  building  of  his  new  city,  he  appointed 
Cleomenes  inspector  of  it;  with  orders  for  him  to  levy 
the  tribute  which  Arabia  was  to  pay.  But  this  (tleo- 
menes  was  a  very  wicked  wretch,  who  abused  his  au- 
thority, and  oppressed  the  people  with  the  utmost  bar- 
barity. 

SECTION  VIII. — ALEXANDER,  AFTER  HIS  RETURN 
FROM  EG  VPT,  RESOLVES  TO  GO  IN  PURSL'IT  OF  DA- 
RIUS. AT  HIS  SETTING  OUT  HE  HEARS  GK  THE 
DEATH  OF  THAT  MONARCH'S  QUEEN.  HE  CAUSES 
TO  BE  PAID  HER  THE  HONOURS  WHICH  VVERL  DUE 
TO  HER  RANK.  HE  PASSES  THE  EUPHRATES  AND 
TIGRIS,  AND  COMES  UP  WITH  DARIUS.  THE  FA- 
MOUS BATTLE  OF  ARBELA. 

ALEXANDER  having  settled  the  affairs  of  Egypt,* 
set  out  from  thence  in  the  spring,  to  march  into  ihe 
East  against  Darius.  In  his  way  through  Palestine, 
he  heard  news  which  gave  him  great  uneasint?-.  At 
his  going  into  F.gypt,  he  had  appointed  AndrDiuarhus, 
whom  he  highly  esteemed,  governor  of  Syria  and  Pa- 
lestine. Andromachus  coming  to  Samaria  to  settle 
some  affairs  in  that  country,  the  Sannaritans  mutinied ; 
and  setting  fire  to  the  house  in  which  he  was,  burned 
him  alive.  It  is  very  probable,  that  this  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  rage  with  which  that  people  were  fired, 
at  their  having  been  denied  the  same  privileges  that 
had  been  granted  the  Jews,  their  enemies.  Alexan- 
der was  highly  exasperated  against  them  for  this  cruel 
action,  and  accordingly  he  put  to  death  all  those  who 
had  any  hand  in  it,  banished  the  rest  from  the  city 
of  Samaria,  supplying  their  room  with  a  colony  of 
Macedonians,  and  divided  th«  rest  of  their  lands 
among  the  Jews. 

He  made  some  stay  in  Tyre,  to  settle  the  various 
affairs  of  the  countries  he  left  behind  him,  in  his  pro- 
gress towards  new  conquests. 

He  was  scarce  set  out,  when  an 
eunuch  brought  word,  that  Darius's  A.  M.  3673. 
consort  was  just  dead.  Hearing  this.  Ant.  J.C.331. 
he  returned  back,  and  went  into  the 
tent  of  Svsigambis,  whom  he  found  bathed  in  tears, 
and  lying  on  the  ground,  in  the  midst  of  the  young 
princesses,  who  also  were  weeping;  and  near  them 
the  son  of  Darius,  a  child,  who  was  the  more  worthy 
of  compassion,*  as  he  was  less  sensible  to  evils,  which 
concerned  him  more  than  any  other.  Alexander  con- 
soled them  in  so  kind  and  tender  a  manner,  as  plain! 
showed  that  he  himself  was  deeply  and  sincert.lv  af- 
fected. He  caused  her  funeral  obsequies  to  be  per- 
formed with  the  utmost  splendour  and  magnificence. 
One  of  the  eunuch*  who  superintended  the  chamber 
and  who  had  been  taken  with  the  princesses,  fled  from 
'the  camp,  and  ran  to  Darius,  whom  he  informed  of  his 

«  Arrian.  1.  iii.  p.  108—110.     Q.  Curt.  I.  iv.  c.  8. 

•  Diod.  1.  xvii    p.  530— 53ti.     Arrian.  I.  iii.  p.  111—127 
Plutnrcli.  in  Alex.   p.  681— CS5.     Q.  Curt.  1.  iv.  c.  9—16 

Justin.  I.  xi   r.  12 — 14. 

•  Oli  id   ipo'irn  mirarabilii,  ouoil  nondum  *pn>ir>hat  cai» 
mitattm,   maxima  ex   pane  ad   ipsum  redundamem.    Q 
Curt. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


557 


consort's  death.  The  Persian  monarch  was  seized 
with  the  most  violent  affliction  upon  hearing  thi* 
news,  particularly,  at  he  supposed  she  would  not  be 
allowed  the  funeral  i.eremonies  due  to  her  exalted 
rank.  But  th*  eunuch  undeceived  him  on  this  occn- 
lion,  I  v  telling  k'iin  the  honours  which  Alexander  had 
paid  his  queen  a'ter  her  death,  and  the  civilities  he 
had  always  shown  her  in  her  lifetime.  Darius,  upon 
hearing  these  words,  was  fired  with  suspicions  of  so 
bonii  a  kind,  that  they  did  not  leave  him  a  mo- 
ment'* quiet. 

Taking  the  eunuch  aside,  he  spoke  to  him  as  fol- 
ows:  "  If  thou  (lost  still  acknowledge  Darius  for  thy 
.ord  and  sovereign,  tell  me,  by  the  respect  and  vene- 
ration thou  owest  to  that  great  splendour  of  Mithres  ' 
which  enlighten*  us,  and  to  this  hand  which  the  king 
stretcheth  out  to  thee;  tell  me,  1  say,  whether,  in  be- 
moaning the  death  of  Statira,  I  do  not  bewail  the 
lea.Tt  of  her  evils;  and  whether,  as  she  fell  into  the 
hands  of  a  young  monarch,  she  did  not  first  lose  her 
honour,  and  afterwards  her  life."  The  eunuch, 
throwing  himself  at  Darius's  feet,  besought  him  not 
to  think  so  injuriously  of  Alexander's  virtue;  nor  dis- 
honour his  wife  and  sister  after  her  death ;  and  not  to 
deprive  himself  of  the  greatest  consolation  he  could 
possibly  have  in  his  misfortunes,  viz.  to  be  firmly  per- 
luaded,  that  the  prince,  who  had  triumphed  over  him, 
was  superior  to  the  frailties  of  other  men;  that  he 
ought  rather  to  admire  Alexander,  as  he  had  given 
the  Persian  ladies  much  stronger  proofs  of  his  virtue 
and  continence,  than  he  had  given  the  Persians  them- 
selves of  his  valour.  After  this,  he  confirmed  all  he 
had  before  said,  by  the  most  dreadful  oaths  and  im- 
precations; and  then  gave  him  a  particular  account 
of  what  public  fame  had  related,  concerning  the  wis- 
dom, temperance,  and  magnanimity  of  Alexander. 

Darius,  returning  into  the  hall  where  his  courtiers 
Were  assembled,  and  lilting  up  his  hands  to  heaven, 
broke  into  the  following  praver:  "  Ye  gods,  who  pre- 
»ide  over  the  birth  of  men,  and  who  dispose  of  kings 
mnd  empires,  grant  that,  after  having  raised  the  for- 
tune of  Persia  from  its  dejected  stale,  I  may  transmit 
it  to  my  descendants  with  the  same  luMre  in  which  1 
received  it;  in  order  that,  after  having  triumphed 
over  my  enemies,  I  may  acknowledge  the  favours 
which  Alexander  has  shown  in  mv  calamity  to  per- 
lons  who,  of  all  others,  are  ijiost  dear  to  me:  or,  in 
case  the  time  ordained  by  the  fates  is  at  last  come, 
when  it  must  necessarily  happen,  from  the  anger  of 
the  gods,  or  the  ordinary  vicissitudes  of  human  af- 
fairs, that  the  empire  of  Persia  must  end;  grant, 
great  gods,  that  none  but  Alexander  may  ascend  the 
throne  of  Cyrus." 

In  the  mean  time,  Alexander  having  set  out  upon 
his  mar<h,  arrived  \vith  his  whole  army  at  Thapsacus, 
where  he  passed  a  bridge  that  lay  across  the  Euphra- 
tes, and  continued  his  journey  towards  the  Tigris, 
where  he  expected  to  come  up  with  the  enemy.  Da- 
rius had  already  made  overtures  of  peace  to  him 
twice;  but  finding  at  last  that  there  were  no  hopes 
of  their  concluding  one,  unless  he  resigned  the  whole 
empire  to  him,  he  therefore  prepared  himself  again 
for  battle.  For  this  purpose,  he  assembled  in  Baby- 
lon an  army  half  as  numerous  again  as  that  which  he 
had  at  Issus,  and  marched  it  towards  Nineveh;  hi« 
forces  covered  all  the  plains  of  Mesopotamia.  Advire 
being  brought,  that  the  enemy  was  not  far  off,  he 
caused  Satropates,  colonel  of  the  cavalrv,  to  advance 
•  t  the  head  of  1000  chosen  horse:  and  likewise  gave 
6000  to  Mazneus,  governor  of  the  province;  to  prevent 
Alexander  from  crossing  the  river,  and  to  lay  wa-te 
the  country  through  winch  that  monarch  was  to  pass: 
but  he  arrived  too  late. 

Of  all  the  rivers  of  the  East,  this  is  the  most  rapid ; 
and  it  not  only  receives  a  great  number  of  rivulets  in 
lit  waves,  but  drags  along  with  it  great  stones;  so 
that  it  is  named  Tigris,  on  account  of  its  prodigious 
rapidity,  an  arrow  being  so  called  in  the  Persian 
tongue.  Alexander  sounded  those  parts  of  the  river 
which  were  fordable,  and  there  the  water,  at  the  en- 

>  The  Persians  worshipped  the  tun  under  the  name  of  Mi- 
tMrtf,  and  the  moon  under  that  of  .Wit  Ara. 


trance,  came  up  to  the  horses' bellits,  and  in  the  mid 
die  to  their  breasts.  Having  drawn  up  his  'nfantry 
in  the  form  of  a  half  moon,  and  posted  his  cavalry  on 
the  wings,  they  advanced  to  the  current  of  the  water 
•>vilh  no  great  difficulty,  carry  ing  their  arm?  over  their 
heads.  The  king  waded  on  foot  among  the  infantry, 
and  was  the  first  who  appeared  on  the  opposite  shore, 
where  he  pointed  out  with  his  hand  the  ford  to 
the  soldiers;  it  not  being  possible  for  him  to  make 
them  hear  him.  But  it  was  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty they  kept  their  footing;  because  of  the  t>lip;>e- 
riness  of  the  stones,  and  the  impetuosity  of  the  stream. 
Such  soldiers  as  not  only  carried  their  arms,  but  their 
clothes  also,  were  much  more  embarrassed ;  for  be- 
ing unable  to  support  themselves,  they  were  carried 
into  whirlpool*,  unless  they  threw  away  their  bur- 
dens. At  the  same  time,  the  heaps  of  clothes,  float- 
ing up  and  down,  beat  down  several;  and,  as  every 
man  endeavoured  to  catch  at  his  own  things,  they 
annoyed  one  another  more  than  the  river  did.  It  was 
to  no  purpose  that  the  king  commanded  them,  with  a 
loud  voice,  to  save  nothing  but  their  arm*;  and  as- 
sured them,  that  lie  himself  would  compensate  their 
other  losses;  for  not  one  of  them  could  hear  his 
admonitions  or  orders,  so  great  was  the  noi*e  and 
tumult.  At  last,  they  all  passed  over  that  part  of  the 
ford  where  the  water  was  shallowest,  and  the  stream 
less  impetuous,  and  their  chief  loss  was  only  that  of  a 
small  part  of  their  baggage. 

It  is  certain,  that  this  armv  might  easily  have  been 
cut  to  pieces,  had  they  been  opposed  by  a  general 
who  dared  to  conquer;  that  is,  to  make  ever  so  little 
opposition  to  their  passage.  But  Mazaeus,  who  might 
easily  have  defeated  them  had  he  come  up  when  they 
were  crossing  the  river  in  disorder  and  confusion,  did 
not  arrive  till  they  were  drawn  up  in  battle  array. 
A  like  good  fortune  had  always  atte.ided  this  prince 
hitherto,  both  when  he  passed  the  Granicus  in  sight 
of  so  prodigious  a  multitude  of  horse  and  foot,  who 
waited  his  coming  on  the  shore;  and  also  in  the  rocks 
of  Cilicia,  when  he  found  the  passes  and  straits  quite 
open  and  defenceless,  where  a  small  number  of  troops 
might  have  checked  his  progress.  This  circumstance 
may  lessen  our  surprise  at  that  excess  of  boldness,' 
which  was  his  peculiar  characteristic,  and  which  per- 
petually prompted  him  to  encounter  blindly  the 
greatest  dangers:  since,  as  he  was  alwavs  fortunate, 
he  never  had  once  room  to  suspect  himself  guilty 
of  rashness. 

The  king,  having  encamped  two  days  near  the  ri- 
ver, commanded  his  soldiers  to  be  ready  for  marching 
on  the  morrow;  but  about  nine  or  ten  in  the  evening, 
when  the  sky  was  calm  ar.d  clear,  the  moon  first  lost 
its  light,  and  appeared  afterwards  quite  sullied,  and 
as  it  were  tinged  with  blood.  Now  as  this  hapfiened 
just  before  a  great  battle  was  going  to  be  fought,  the 
doubtful  success  of  which  had  already  filled  the  army 
with  sufficient  disquietude,  they  were  first  struck  with 
*  religious  awe,  and  afterwards  seized  with  fear. 
They  cried  out,  "  That  heaven  displayed  the  marks 
of  its  anger;  and  that  they  were  dragged,  against  the 
will  of  the  gods,  to  the  extremities  oi  the  earth:  that 
rivers  opposed  their  passage;  that  the  stars  refused 
to  lend  their  usual  light;  ami  that  they  could  now 
see  nothing  but  deserts  and  solitudes:  th'at  merely  to 
satisfy  the  ambition  of  one  man,  so  many  thousands 
shed  their  blood;  and  that  fora  man  who  contemned 
his  own  country,  disowned  his  father,  and  pretended 
to  pass  for  a  pod." 

These  murmers  were  rising  to  an  open  insurrection, 
when  Alexander,  whom  nothing  could  intimidate, 
summoned  the  officers  of  his  army  into  his  tent,  and 
commanded  such  of  the  Egyptian  soothsayers  who 
were  best  skilled  in  the  knowledge  of  the  stars,  to 
declare  what  they  thought  of  this  phenomenon. 
These  knew  very  well  the  natural  causes  of  eclipses 
of  the  moon;  but,  without  entering  into  physical  HT- 
guments,  they  contented  themselves  with  saying,  that 
the  sun  was  on  the  side  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  mooa 

*  Audacis  quoque,  quS  mnximJ  vifuit,  ratio  minui  no- 
ten  •  quia  nunquam  in  diwrimcn  venit,  an  temcre  fcciiMb 


558 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


on  that  of  Ine  Persians,  and  that,  whenever  il  suffered 
an  eclipse,  it  always  threatened  the  latter  with  some 
grievous  calamity,  whereof  they  mentioned  several 
examples,  all  which  they  adduced  as  true  and  indis- 
putable. Superstition  has  a  surprising  influence  over 
the  minds  of  the  vulgar.  How  headstrong  and  in- 
consistent soever  they  may  be,  yet  if  they  are  once 
struck  with  a  vain  image  of  religion,  they  will  sooner 
obey  soothsayers  than  their  leaders.  The  answer 
made  bv  the  Egyptians  being  dispersed  among  the  sol- 
diers, if  revived  their  hopes  and  courage. 

The  king,  purposely  to  take  advantage  of  this  ar- 
dour, began  his  march  after  midnight.  On  his  right 
hand  lay  the  Tigris,  and  on  his  left  the  mountains 
called  Cordycei.  At  day-break  the  scouts,  whom  he 
bad  sent  to  view  the  enemy,  brought  word  that  Da- 
rius was  marching  towards  him;  upon  which  hr  im-  , 
mediately  drew  up  his  forces  in  battle  array,  and  set 
himself  at  their  head.  However,  it  was  afterwards 
found,  that  they  were  only  a  detachment  of  1000  horse 
that  were  sent  out  to  reconnoitre,  and  which  soon  re- 
tired to  the  main  army.  Nevertheless,  news  was 
brought  the  king,  that  Darius  was  now  but  150  sta- 
dia,1 from  the  place  where  they  then  were. 

Not  long  before  this  some  letters  had  been  inter- 
cepted in  which  Darius  solicited  the  Grecian  soldiers 
either  to  kill  or  betray  Alexander.  Nothing  can  re- 
flect so  great  an  odium  on  the  memory  of  this  prince 
as  an  attempt  of  that  kind;  an  attempt  so  cowardly 
and  black,  and  more  than  once  repeated.  Alexander 
was  in  doubt  with  himself,  whether  it  would  be  pro- 
per for  him  to  read  these  letters  in  a  full  assembly, 
relying  as  much  on  the  affection  and  fidelity  of  the 
Greeks,  as  on  that  of  the  Macedonians.  But  Parme- 
nio  dissuaded  him  from  it;  declaring,  that  it  would 
be  dangerous  even  to  awake  such  thoughts  in  the 
minds  of  soldiers;  that  one  only  was  sufficient  to 
strike  the  blow;  and  that  avarice  wag  capable  of  at- 
tempting the  most  enormous  crimes.  The  king  fol- 
lowed this  prudent  counsel,  and  ordered  his  army  to 
march  forward. 

Although  Darius  had  twice  sued  in  vain  for  peace, 
and  imagined  that  he  had  nothing  to  trust  to  but  his 
arms;  nevertheless,  being  overcome  by  the  advanta- 
geous reports  which  had  been  made  to  him  of  Alex- 
ander's tenderness  and  humanity  towards  his  family, 
he  despatched  ten  of  his  chief  relations,  who  were  to 
offer  him  fresh  conditions  of  peace,  more  advantageous 
than  the  former;  and  to  thank  him  for  the  kind  treat- 
ment he  had  given  his  family.  Darius  had,  in  the 
former  proposals,  given  him  up  all  the  provinces  as  far 
as  the  river  Halys;  but  now  he  added  the  several  ter- 
ritories situated  between  the  Hellespont  and  the  Eu- 
phrates, that  is,  all  he  already  possessed.  Alexander 
made  the  following  answer:  "Tell  your  sovereign, 
that  thanks,  between  persons  that  make  war  against 
each  other,  are  superfluous;  and  that  in  case  I  have 
behaved  with  clemency  towards  his  family,  it  was  for 
my  own  sake,  and  not  for  his;  to  gratify  my  own  in- 
clination, and  not  to  please  him.  To  insult  the  un- 
happy is  a  thing  to  me  unknown.  I  do  not  attack 
either  prisoners  or  women,  and  turn  my  rage  against 
such  only  as  are  armed  for  the  fight.  If  Darius  were 
sincere  in  his  demand  for  peace,  I  then  would  debate 
on  what  was  to  be  <!  ne;  but  since  he  still  continues 
by  letters  and  by  money,  to  spirit  up  my  soldiers  to 
betray  me,  and  my  friends  to  murder  me,  1  therefore 
am  determined  to  pursue  him  with  the  utmost  vigour; 
and  that  not  as  an  enemy,  but  a  poisoner  and  an  as- 
tassin.  It  indeed  becomes  him  to  offer  to  yield  up  to 
me  what  I  am  already  possessed  of !  Would  he  be 
satisfied  with  ranking  second  to  me,  without  pretend- 
ing to  be  my  equal,  I  might  possibly  then  hear  him. 
Tell  him  that  the  world  will  not  permit  two  suns,  nor 
Iwo  sovereigns.  Let  him  therefore  choose,  either  to 
surrender  to  day,  or  fight  me  to-morrow,  and  not 
flatter  h'mself  with  the  hopes  of  better  success  than 
he  hag  hitherto  had."  Darius's  proposals  are  certain- 
r  not  reasonable;  but  then,  is  Alexanoer's  answer 
much  more  so?  In  the  former  we  behold  a  prince, 
who  is  not  yet  sensible  of  his  own  weakness,  or  at 


i  Keren  or  sight  league*. 


least  who  cannot  prevail  with  himself  to  own  it;  and 
in  llu  latter,  we  see  a  monarch  quite  intoxicated  with 
his  ^ood  fortune,  and  carrying  his  pride  to  such  an 
excess  of  folly,  as  is  not  to  be  paralleled:  "  The  world 
will  not  permit  two  suns,  nor  two  sovereigns."  If 
this  be  greatness,  and  not  bombast,  I  do  not  know 
what  can  ever  deserve  the  latter  name.  The  ambas- 
sadors having  leave  to  depart,  returned  back,  and 
told  Darius  that  he  must  now  prepare  for  battle. 
The  latter  pitched  his  camp  near  a  village  called 
Gaugamela,  and  the  river  liumellus,  in  a  plain  at  a 
considerable  distance  from  Arbela.  He  had  before 
levelled  the  spot  which  he  pitched  upon  for  the  field 
of  battle,  MI  order  that  his  chariots  and  cavalry  might 
have  full  room  to  act;  recollecting,  thrft  his  engaging 
in  the  straits  of  Cilicia  had  lost  him  the  battle  fought 
there.  At  the  same  time,  he  had  prepared  caltraps,* 
to  annoy  the  enemy's  horse. 

Alexander,  upon  hearing  this  news,  continued  foul 
clays  in  the  place  he  then  was,  to  rest  his  army,  and 
surrounded  his  camp  with  trenches  and  palisades;  foi 
he  was  determined  to  leave  all  his  baggage  and  the 
useless  soldier;  in  it,  and  march  the  remainder  against 
the  enemy,  with  no  other  equipage  than  the  arms  they 
carried.  Accordingly,  he  set  out  about  nine  in  the 
evening,  in  order  to  fight  Darius  at  day-break;  win» 
upon  this  news,  had  drawn  up  his  army  in  order  of 
battle.  Alexander  also  marched  in  battle  array;  for 
both  armies  were  within  two  or  three  leagues  of  each 
other.  When  he  was  arrived  at  the  mountains, 
where  he  could  discover  the  enemy's  whole  army,  he 
halted;  and  having  assembled  his  general  officers,  as 
well  Macedonians  as  foreigners,  he  debated  whether 
they  should  engage  immediate];-,  or  pitch  their  camp 
in  that  place.  The  latter  opinion  being  followed, 
because  it  was  judged  proper  for  them  to  view  the 
field  of  battle,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  enemy 
was  drawn  up,  the  army  encamped  in  the  same  order 
in  which  it  had  marched;  during  which,  Alexander, 
at  the  head  of  his  light  infantry,  and  his  royal  regi- 
ments, marched  round  the  plain  in  which  the  battle 
was  to  be  fought. 

Being  returned,  he  assembled  his  general  officers  a 
second  time,  and  told  them,  that  there  was  no  occa 
sion  for  his  making  a  speech,  because  their  courage 
and  great  actions  were  alone  sufficient  to  excite  them 
to  glory;  that  he  desired  them  only  to  represent  to 
the  soldiers,  that  they  were  not  to  fight,  on  this  occa- 
sion, for  Phoenicia  or  E<rypt,  but  for  all  Asia;  which 
would  be  possessed  by  him  who  should  conquer;  and 
that,  after  having  gone  through  so  man}'  provinces,  and 
left  behind  them  so  great  a  number  of  rivers  and 
mountains,  they  could  secure  their  retreat  no  other- 
wise than  by  gaining  a  complete  victory.  After  this 
speech,  he  ordered  them  to  take  some  repose. 

It  is  said  that  Parmenio  advised  him  to  attack  the 
enemy  in  the  night  time  alleging  that  they  might  easily 
be  defeated,  if  fallen  upon  by  surprise,  and  in  the 
dark;  but  the  king  answered, so  loud,  that  all  present 
might  hear  him,  that  it  did  not  become  Alexander  to 
steal  a  victory,  and  therefore  he  was  resolved  to  fight 
and  conquer  in  broad  day-light.  This  was  a  haughty 
but,  at  the  same  time,  a  prudent  answer;  for  it  was 
running  great  hazard,  to  fall  upon  so  numerous  aa 
army  in  the  night  time,  and  in  an  unknown  country. 
Darius,  fearing  he  should  be  attacked  at  unawares, 
because  he  had  not  intrenched  himself,  obliged  his 
soldiers  to  continue  the  whole  night  under  arms, 
which  proved  of  the  highest  prejudice  to  him  in  the 
engagement. 

Alexander,  who  in  the  crisis  of  affairs  used  always 
to  consult  the  soothsayers,  observing  very  exactly 
whatever  they  enjoined,  in  order  to  obtain  the  favour 
of  the^gods,  finding  himself  upon  the  point  of  fighting 
a  battle,  the  success  of  which  was  to  give  empire  to 
the  conqueror,  sent  for  Aristander,  in  whom  he  reposed 
the  greatest  confidence.  He  then  shut  himself  up  with 
the  soothsayer,  to  make  some  secret  sacrifices;  and 
afterwards  offered  up  victims  to  Fear,3  which  he 


•  A  caltrap  is  nn  instrument  composed  of  spikes.    Seve- 
ral of  these  are  laid  in  the  fields  through  which  the  cavalry 
u  to  march,  in  ordnr  that  they  may  run  into  the  horseg'  feet 

*  We  must  read  in  Plutarch  ?i/3»>  instead  of  foi'/Sw. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


559 


doubtless  did  to  prevent  his  troop*  from  being  seized 
with  dread,  at  the  sight  of  the  formidable  army  of 
Darius.  The  soothsayer,  dressed  in  his  \eatmt  nt<*. 
Holding  vervain,  with  his  head  veiled,  first  repeated 
the  prayers  which  the  king  was  to  address  to  Jupiter, 
to  Minerva,  and  to  Victory.  The  whole  being  end- 
•ed,  Alexander  went  to  bed,  to  repose  himself  during 
the  remaining  part  of  the  night.  As  he  revolved  in 
bis  mind,  not  without  some  emotion,  the  consequence 
of  the  battle  which  was  upon  the  point  of  being 
fought,  he  could  not  sleep  immediately.  But  his  bo- 
dy being  oppressed,  in  a  manner,  by  the  anxiety  of 
his  ir.md,  he  slept  soundly  the  whole  night,  contrary 
to  his  usual  custom:  so  that  when  his  gtiier.il>  were 
assembled  at  day-break  before  his  tent,  to  receive  his 
orders,  they  were  greatly  surprised  to  find  he  wa«  not 
awake;  upon  which  they  themselves  commanded  the 
sokiiers  to  take  some  refreshment.  Parmenio,  having 
at  last  awakened  him,  and  seeming  surprised  to  find 
him  in  so  calm  and  sweet  a  sleep,  just  as  he  was  going 
to  fight  a  battle,  in  which  his  whole  fortune  lay  at 
stake:  "  How  is  it  possible,"  said  Alexander,  "  for  us 
not  to  be  calm  since  the  enemy  is  coming  to  deliver 
himself  into  our  hands?''  Immediately  he  took  up 
his  arms,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  up  and  down 
the  ranks,  exhorting  the  tioops  to  maintain,  and,  if 
possible,  to  surpass,  their  ancient  fame,  and  the  glory 
they  had  hitherto  acquired.  Soldiers,  en  the  day  of 
battle,  imagine  they  see  the  fate  of  the  engagement 
painted  in  the  face  of  their  general.  As  for  Alexan- 
der, he  had  never  appeared  so  calm,  so  gay,  nor  so 
resolute.  The  serenity  and  security  which  they  ob- 
served in  him,  were  in  a  manner  so  many  assurances 
of  the  victory . 

There  was  a  great  difference  between  the  two  ar- 
mies with  respect  to  numbers,  but  much  more  so  with 
regard  to  courage.  That  of  Darius  consisted  at  least 
or600,000  foot,  and  40,000  horse;'  and  the  other  of 
DO  more  than  40,000  foot,  and  7  or  8,000  horse:  but 
the  latter  was  all  fire  and  strength;  whereas,  on  the 
side  of  the  Persians,  it  was  a  prodigious  assemblage 
of  nit n,  not  of  soldiers;  an  empty  phantom  rather 
than  a  real  army.* 

Both  sides  were  disposed  in  very  near  the  same 
array.  The  forces  were  drawn  up  in  two  lines,  the 
cavalry  on  the  two  wings,  and  the  infantry  in  the 
middle;  the  one  and  the  other  being  under  the  parti- 
cular condui  t  of  the  chiefs  of  each  of  the  different- 
nations  that  composed  them,  and  commanded  in  ge- 
neral by  the  principal  crown-officers.  The  front  of 
the  battle  (under  Darius)  was  covered  with  200  cha- 
riots armed  with  scythes,  and  with  fifteen  elephants, 
that  king  taking  his  post  in  the  centre  of  the  first  line. 
Besides  the  guards,  which  were  the  flower  of  his 
forcw,  he  also  had  fortified  himself  with  the  Grecian 
infantry,  whom  he  had  drawn  up  near  his  person;  be- 
lieving'this  body  only  capable  of  opposing  the  Mace- 
donian phalanx.  As  his  army  spread  over  a  much 
greater  space  of  ground  than  that  of  the  enemy,  he 
intended  to  surround,  and  to  charge  them,  at  one 
•  nd  the  same  time,  both  in  front  and  flank. 

But  Alexander  had  guarded  against  this,  by  giving 
orders  to  the  commanders  of  the  second  line,  that  in 
case  they  should  be  charged  in  their  rear,  to  face 
about  to  that  side;  or  else  to  draw  up  their  troops  in 
form  of  a  gibbet,  and  cover  their  wings,  in  rase  the 
enemy  should  charge  them  in  (lank.  He  had  post- 
ed, in"  the  front  of  his  first  line,  the  greatest  part  of 
his  bowmen,  shngers,  hurlers  of  javelins,  in  order  that 
these  might  make  head  against  the  chariots  armed 
with  scythes;  and  frighten  the  horses,  by  discharging 
at  them  a  shower  of  arrows,  ja»elins.  and  stone*. 
Those  who  led  on  the  wings,  were  ordered  to  extend 
them  as  wide  as  possible;  but  in  such  a  manner 
as  not  to  weaken  the  main  body.  As  for  the  bag- 
gage and  the  captives,  among  whom  were  Darius'* 
mother  and  children,  they  were  left  in  the  camp,  un- 
der a  small  guard.  Parmenio  commanded,  n»  he  had 
always  done,  the  left  wing,  and  Alexander  the  right. 
When  the  two  armies  came  in  M^ht,  Alexander, 


*  According  to  several  historians  it  amounted  to  upward) 
W  1, 000.000  men. 

Noonna  veriea  quam  auiilia.     Q.  Curt. 


who  had  been  shown  the  several  places  where  the 
callraps  were  hid,  extended  more  and  more  towards 
the  right  to  avoid  them;  and  the  Persians  amanced 
forward  in  pro|>ortion.  Darius,  being  afraid  leal  ihe 
Macedonians  should  draw  him  iroiu  the  spot  ol  ground 
he  had  levelled,  and  carry  him  into  another  that  wai 
rough  and  uneven,  where  his  armed  chariots  could  not 
act,  commanded  the  cavalry  in  his  left  wing,  which 
spread  miuh  farther  than  that  of  the  enemy's  right, 
to  march  right  forward,  and  wheel  about  upon  the 
Macedonians  in  Hank,  to  prevent  them  from  extending 
their  line  farther.  Then  Alexander  despatched  agiiiist 
them  the  body  of  horse  in  his  service  commanded  by 
Menidas;  but  ai  these  were  not  able  to  make  head 
against  the  enr-mv.  because  of  their  prodigious  num- 
bers, he  reinforced  them  with  the  Paeomans,  whom 
Aretas  commanded,  and  with  the  foreign  cavalry. 
The  Barbarians  gave  way  at  first,  but  soon  returned 
to  the  charge.  Besides  the  advantage  of  numbers, 
they  had  that  also  of  their  coats  of  mail,  which  se- 
cured themselves  and  their  horses  much  more.  Alex- 
ander's cavalry  was  much  annoyed;  however,  they 
sustained  the  charge  with  great  bravery,  and  at  last 
put  them  to  flight. 

Upon  this  the  Persians  drove  the  chariots  armed 
ith  scythes  against  the  Macedonian  phalanx,  in  order 
to  break  it,  but  with  little  success.  The  noise  which 
the  soldiers  who  formed  that  body  made,  by  strik- 
ing their  swords  against  their  bucklers,  and  the  ar- 
rows which  rtew  on  all  sides,  frightened  the  horses, 
and  made  a  great  number  of  them  turn  back  against 
their  own  troops.  Others,  laying  hold  of  the  horses' 
bridles,  pulled  the  riders  down,  and  cut  them  to  pie- 
ces. Part  of  the  chariots  drove  between  the  batta- 
lions, which  opened  to  make  way  for  them,  as  they 
had  been  ordered  to  do,  by  which  means  they  did  lit- 
tle or  no  execution. 

Alexander,  seeing  Darius  set  his  whole  army  in 
motion  in  order  to  charge  him,  employed  a  stratagem 
to  encourage  his  soldiers.  When  the  buttle  was  at 
the  hottest,  and  the  Macedonians  were  in  the  greatest 
danger,  Aristander,  the  soothsayer,  clothed  in  his 
white  robes,  holding  a  branch  of  laurel  in  his  hand, 
advances  among  the  troops,  as  he  had  been  instruct- 
ed by  the  king:  and,  cry  ing  that  he  saw  an  eaule  ho- 
vering over  Alexander's  head  (a  sure  omen  of  victo- 
ry.) he  showed  with  his  finger  the  pretended  bird  to 
the  soldiers;  who,  relying  upon  the  sincerity  of  the 
soothsayer,  fancied  they  also  saw  it;  and  thereup- 
on renewed  the  attack  with  greater  cheerfulness  and 
ardour  than  ever.  Then  the  king  perceiving  that 
Aretas,  after  having  charged  the  cavalry,  and  put  them 
into  disorder,  upon  their  advancing  to  surround  his 
right  wing,  had  begun  to  break  the  foremost  ranks  of 
the  main  body  of  the  Barbarian  army;  marched  to* 
support  him  with  the  flower  of  his  troops,  when  he 
quite  broke  the  enemy's  left  wing,  which  had  already 
begun  to  give  way;  and  without  pursuing  the  force* 
which  he  had  thrown  into  disorder,  he  wheeled  to  the 
left,  in  order  to  fall  upon  the  body  in  which  Dariu-s 
had  posted  himself.  The  presence  of  the  two  kings 
inspired  both  sides  with  new  vigour.  Darius  was 
mounted  on  a  chariot,  and  Alexander  on  horseback; 
both  surrounded  with  their  bravest  officers  and  sol- 
dier), whose  only  endeavour  was  to  save  the  lives  of 
their  respective  princes,  at  the  hazard  of  their  vwn. 
The  battle  was  ob-tinate  and  bloody.  Alexander  hav 
ing  wounded  Darius's  equerry  with  a  javelin,  the  Per- 
sians, as  well  as  the  Macedonians,  imagined  that  the 
king  was  killed;  upon  which  the  former,  breaking 
aloud  into  the  most  dismal  lamentation*,  the  whole 
army  was  seized  with  the  greatest  consternation.  The 
relations  of  Darius,  who  were  at  his  left  hand,  fled 
away  with  the  guards,  and  so  abandoned  the  chariot; 
but  those  who  were  at  his  right,  took  him  into  the 
centre  of  their  body.  Historians  relate,  that  this 
prince,  having  drawn  his  scimetar,  reflected  whether 
he  ought  not  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  hitnsell  rather 
than  Ilv  in  an  ignominious  manner:  but,  perceiving 
from  his  chariot  that  his  soldiers  still  fought,  he  was 
ashamed  to  forsake  them;  and,  us  he  was  waver- 
ing between  hope  and  despair,  the  Persians  retired 
insensibly,  and  thinned  their  ranks;  when  it  could 


560 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


no  longet  je  called  a  battle,  Liri  a  slaughter.  Then 
Darius,  turning  about  his  chariot,  fled  with  the  rest; 
and  the  conqueror  was  now  wholly  employed  in  pur- 
suing him. 

Whilst  all  this  was  doing  in  the  right  wing  of  the 
Macedonian?,  where  the  victory  was  not  doubtful; 
the  left  wing,  commanded  by  Parmenio,  was  in  great 
danger.  A  detachment  of  the  Persian,  Indian,  and 
Parthian  horse,  which  were  the  best  in  all  the  Persian 
itrmv,  having  broke  through  the  infantry  on  the  left, 
advanced  to  the  very  baggage.  The  moment  the 
captives  saw  them  arrive  in  the  camp,  they  armed 
themselves  with  every  ihing  that  came  first  to  hand, 
and  joining  the  cavalry,  rushed  upon  the  Macedoni- 
ans, who  were  now  charged  both  before  and  behind. 
They,  at  the  same  time,  told  Sysigambis,  that  Darius 
had  won  the  battle  (for  this  they  believed;)  that  the 
whole  baggage  was  plundered,  and  that  she  was  now 
going  to  rocover  her  liberty.  But  this  princess,  who 
was  a  woman  of  great  wisdom,  though  this  news  af- 
fected her  in  the  strongest  manner,  could  not  easily 
give  credit  to  it;  and  being  unwilling  to  exasperate, 
by  loo  hasty  a  joy,  a  conqueror  who  had  treated  her 
with  so  much  humanity,  xlid  not  discover  the  least 
emotion;  did  not  once  change  countenance,  nor  Ut 
drop  a  single  word;  but  in  her  usual  posture,  calmly 
waited  till  the  event  should  denounce  her  fate. 

Parmenio,  upon  the  first  report  of  this  attack,  had 
despatched  a  messenger  to  Alexander  to  acquaint  him 
with  the  clanger  to  which  the  ramp  was  exposed,  and 
to  receive  his  orders.  "Above  all  things,"  said  the 
prim:*-,  "  let  him  not  weaken  his  main  body;  let  him 
not  mind  the  baggage,  but  apply  himself  wholly  to 
the  engagement;  lor  victory  will  not  only  restore  at 
our  own  possessions,  but  also  give  those  of  the  enemy 
into  our  hands."  The  general  officers,  who  com- 
manded the  infantry  which  formed  the  centre  of  the 
second  line,  seeing  the  enemy,  were  eroing  to  make 
themselves  masters  of  the  camp  and  baggage,  made 
a  half- '.urn  to  the  right,  in  obedience  to  the  order 
which  had  been  given,  and  fell  upon  the  Persians  be- 
hind, many  of  whom  were  cut  to  pieces,  and  the  rest 
obliged  to  retire;  but  as  these  were  horse,  the  Mace- 
donian foot  could  not  follow  them. 

Soon  after,  Parmenio  himself  was  exposed  to  much 
greater  peril.  Mazaeus,  having  rushed  upon  him  with 
all  his  cavalry,  charged  the  Macedonians  in  flank,  and 
began  to  surround  them.  Immediately  Parmenio 
sent  Alexander  advice  of  the  danger  he  was  in;  de- 
claring, that  in  case  he  were  not  immediately  suc- 
coured, it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  keep  his 
soldiers  together.  The  prince  was  actually  in  pursuit 
of  Darius,  and  fancying  he  was  almost  come  up  with 
him,  rode  with  the'utmost  speed.  He  flattered  him- 
self, that  he  should  absolutely  put  an  end  to  the  war, 
in  case  he  could  but  seize  his  person.  But,  upon  this 
news,  he  turned  about  in  order  to  succour  his  left 
wing,  shuddering  with  rage  to  see  his  prey  and  victo- 
ry torn  in  this  manner  from  him;  and  complaining 
arainst  fortune,  for  having  favoured  Darius  more  in 
hTs  flight,  than  himself  in  the  pursuit  of  that  monarch. 

Alexander,  in  his  march,  met  the  enemy's  horse 
who  had  plundered  the  baggage,  returning:  in  good 
order,  and  retiring,  not  as  soldiers  who  had  been  de- 
feated, but  almost  as  if  they  had  gained  the  victory. 
And  now  the  battle  became  more  obstinnte  than  be- 
fore; for  the  Barbarians  marching  close  in  columns, 
not  in  order  of  battle  but  of  march,  it  was  very  diffi- 
cult to  break  through  them;  and  they  did  not  amuse 
themselves  with  throwing  javelins,  nor  with  wheeling 
about  according  to  their  usual  custom;  but  man  en- 
paging  a«ninst  man,  each  d  id  all  that  lay  in  his  power 
to  unhorse  his  enemy.  Alexander  lost  threescore  of 
his  guards  in  this  attack.  Hepha-stion,  Co>nus,  and 
Menidas.were  wounded  in  it;  however  he  triumphed 
on  this  occasion,  and  all  the  Barbarians  were  cut  to 
puces,  except  such  BJ  forced  their  way  through  his 
squadrons. 

During  this,  news  had  been  brought  Mazaeus  that 
Darius  was  defeated;  upon  which,  being  greatly 
alarmed  and  dejected  by  «he  ill  success  of  that  mo- 
narch, though  the  advantage  was  entirely  on  his  side, 
be  ceased  to  charge  the  enemy,  who  were  now  in  dis- 


j  order,  so  briskly  as  before.  Parmenio  could  not  con 
reive  how  it  came  to  pass,  that  the  battle,  which  be 
fore  was  carried  on  so  warmly,  should  slacken  on  a 
sudden;  however,  like  an  able  commander,  who  seizes 
every  advantage,  solely  intent  upon  inspiring  his  sol- 
diers with  fresh  vigour,  he  observed  to  them,  that 
the  terror  which  spread  throughout  the  enemy's* 
ranks,  was  the  forerunner  of  their  defeat;  mid  fired 
them  with  the  notion  how  glorious  it  would  he  f)r 
them  to  put  the  last  hand  to  the  victory.  Upon  this 
exhortation,  they  recovered  their  former  hopes  and 
bravery;  and  transformed  on  a  sudden,  as  it  were 
into  other  men,  they  gave  the  horses  the  rtin,  and 
charged  the  enemy  with  so  much  fury,  a*  threw  them 
into  the  greatest  disorder,  and  obliged  them- to  fly 
Alexander  came  up  at  that  instant,  anr!  overjoyed  to 
find  the  scale  turned  in  his  favour,  and  ibe  enemy  en 
tirely  defeated,  he  renewed  (in  concert  with  1'arnie- 
nio)  the  pursuit  of  Darius.  He  rode  as  far  asArbela 
where  he  fancied  he  thould  come  up  with  that  mo 
narch  and  all  his  baggage;  but  Darius  had  only  just 
passed  by  it,  and  left  his  treasure  a  prey  ta  the  ene 
my,  with  his  bow  and  shield. 

Such  was  the  success  of  this  famous  battle,  which 
gave  empire  to  the  conqueror.  According  to  Arrian, 
the  Persians  lost  300,000  men,  besides  those  who  were 
taken  prisoners;  which,  at  least,  is  a  proof  that  the 
loss  was  very  great  on  their  side.  That  of  Alexander 
was  very  inconsiderable,  he  not  losing,  according  to 
the  last  mentioned  author,  1200  men,  most  of  whom 
were  horse. 

This  engagement  was  fought  in  the 
month  of  October,1  about  the  same        A.  M.  3674. 
time  that,  two  years  before,  the   bat-    Ant.  J.  C.  330. 
tie  of  Issus  was   fought.     As  Gau£a- 
mela.  in  Assyria,  the  spot  where  the  two  armies  en- 
gaged, was  a  small  place  of  very  little  note,  this  was 
called  the  battle  of  Arbela,  that  being  the  nearest  city 
to  the  field  of  battle. 

SECTION  IX. — ALEXANDER  POSSESSES  HT.VSEI.F 
OF  ARBELA,  BABYLON,  SUSA.  PERSEPOLIS,  AND 
FINDS  IMMENSE  RICHES  IN  THCSE  CITIFS.  AT  A 
BANQUET  HE  SETS  FIRE  TO  THE  PALACE  GF  PER- 
SEPOLIS. 

ALEXANDER'S  first  care,8  after  his  obtaining  the 
victory,  was  to  offer  magnificent  sacrifices  to  the  god* 
by  way  of  thanksgiving.  He  afterwards  reward*!4 
such  as  had  signalized  themselves  remarkably  in  the 
batile;  bestowed  riches  upon  them  with  a  vtrv  libe- 
ral hand,  and  gave  to  each  of  lh«m  houses,  employ- 
ments, and  governments.  But,  being  desirous  of  ex- 
pressing more  particularly  his  gratitude  to  the  Greeks, 
for  having  appointed  him  generalissimo,  against  the 
Persians,  ne  gave  orders  for  abolishing  the  several  ty- 
rannical institutions  that  had  started  up  in  Greece; 
that  the  cities  should  be  restored  to  their  libertit*.  end 
all  their  rights  and  privileges.  He  wrote  particularly 
to  the  Plataeans,  declaring,  that  it  was  his  desire  their 
city  should  be  rebuilt,  to  reward  the  zeal  and  bravery 
by  which  their  ancestors  had  distinguished  them- 
selves, in  defending  the  common  liberties  of  Greece. 
He  also  sent  part  of  the  spoils  to  the  people  of  Cro- 
tona  in  Italy;  to  honour,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many 
years,  the  good-will  and  courage  of  Phaylliis  the 
wrestler,  h  native  of  their  country.3  who  (whilst  war 
was  carrying  on  by  the  Medes,  and  when  all  the  re.it 
of  the  Greeks  that  were  settled  in  Italy  had  abandon- 
ed the  true  Grecians,  imagining  they  were  entirtly 
j  undone)  fitted  out  a  galley  at  his  own  expense,  and 
'  sailed  to  Salamis,  to  partake  of  the  dansrer  to  which 
j  his  countrymen  were  at  that  time  exposed.  So  great 
I  a  friend  and  enconrager,  says  Plutarch,  was  Alexan- 
der, of  every  kind  of  virtue;  considering  liinixt  If 
obliged  in  a  manner  to  perpetuate  the  remembrance 
of  all  great  actions,  to  give  them  the  immortality  they 


t  The  month,  called  by  the  Greeks  Boedromion,  answer* 
partly  to  our  month  nf  October. 

•  OioH.  I.  xvii.  p.  538— WO.    Arrian.  I.  iii.  p.  1°7— 133 
Plot,  in  Alex.  p.  685—688.     Q.  Curt.  I.  v.  c.  1—7.     Justin 
1.  xi.c.  14. 

•  Ilerodotur  relates  this  history  in  very  few  words,  ]   riii 
c.  47 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


50 


merited,  and  propose  them  to  posterity  as  so  many 
modeK  for  their  imitation. 

Dariua,  after  his  defeat,  with  very  few  attendants, 
had  rode  toward?  the  river  Lycus.  After  crossing  it, 
several  advised  him  to  break  down  the  bridge,  be- 
cause tne  enemy  pursued  him.  But  he  made  this  ge- 
nerous answer:'  "  That  life  was  not  *o  dear  to  him,  as 
to  make  him  desire  to  preserve  it  by  the  destruction 
of  so  many  thousands  of  his  subjects  and  faithful  allies, 
who,  by  that  means,  would  be  delivered  up  to  the 
mercy  of  the  enemy;  that  they  had  as  much  right  to 
pass  over  this  bridge  as  their  sovereign,  and  conse- 
quently that  it  ought  to  be  as  open  to  them  as  to  him- 
self "  After  riding  a  great  number  of  leagues  full 
•po.cd,  he  arrived  at  midnight  at  Arbela.  From 
thence  he  (ltd  towards  Media,  over  the  Armenian 
mountain*,  followed  by  his  nobility  and  a  few  of  his 
guards.  The  reason  of  his  going  that  way  was,  his 
supposing  that  Alexander  would  proceed  towards  Ba- 
bylon and  Susa,  there  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  victo- 
ry: l>i -ides,  a  numerous  army  could  not  pursue  him 
by  this  road  ;  whereas,  in  the  other,  horses  and  chari- 
ots might  advance  with  great  ease;  not  to  mention 
that  the  country  xvas  very  fruitful. 

A  few  days  after,  Arbela  surrendered  to  Alexan- 
der, who  found  in  it  a  great  quantity  of  furniture  be- 
longing to  the  crown,  rich  clothes,  and  other  precious 
articles,  with  4(K)0  talents,  (about  775.000/.,)  and  all 
the  riches  of  the  army,  which  Darius  had  left  there 
•t  hi?  setting  out  agamst  Alexander,  as  was  before  ob- 
served. But  he  was  soon  obliged  to  leave  that  place, 
because  of  the  diseases  that  spread  in  his  camp,  oc- 
casioned by  the  infection  of  the  dead  bodies  which 
covered  all  the  field  of  battle.  This  prince  advanced 
therefore  over  the  plains  towards  Babylon,  and,  after 
four  days'  march, arrived  at  Memnis,  where,  in  a  cave, 
is  seen  the  celebrated  fountain  which  throws  out  bitu- 
men, in  Mich  quantities,  that,  we  are  told,  it  was  used 
as  cement  ill  building  the  walls  of  Babylon. 

But  what  Alexander  admired  most,  was  a  great  gulf, 
which  streamed  perpetually  rivulets  of  fire,  as  from 
an  inexhaustible  spring ;  and  a  flood  of  naphtha,  which 
overflowing,  from  the  prodigious  quantities  of  it, 
formed  a  great  lake  pretty  near  the  gulf.  This  naph- 
tha is  exactly  like  bitumen,  but  has  one  quality  more, 
viz.  its  catching  fire  so  very  suddenly,  that,  before  it 
touches  a  flame,  it  takes  fire  merely  from  the  light 
that  surrounds  the  flame,  and  sets  the  air  between  both 
on  fire.  The  [Barbarians  being  desirous  of  showing 
the  kins:  the  strength  and  subtle  nature  of  this  com- 
bustible substance,  scattered  several  drops  of  it  up 
and  down  after  his  arrival  in  Babylon,  in  that  street 
which  went  up  to  the  house  he  had  chosen  for  his  re- 
sidence. After  this,  going  to  the  other  end  of  the 
street,  they  brought  torches  near  the  places  where 
those  drops  were  fallen  (for  it  was  night,)  and  the 
drops  which  were  nighest  the  torches  taking  fire  on  a 
sudden,  the  flame  ran  in  an  instant  to  the  other  end; 
by  which  means  the  whole  street  seemed  in  one  ge- 
neral conflagration.2  • 

When  Alexander  drew  near  Babylon,  MazaBus, 
who  had  retired  thither  after  the  battle  of  Arbela, 
surrendered  himself,  with  his  children,  who  were 
grown  up,  and  gave  the  city  into  his  hands.  The 
kinsr  was  very  well  pleased  with  his  arrival;  for  he 
would  have  met  with  great  difficulties  in  besieging  a 
city  of  such  importance,  and  so  well  provided  with 
every  thing.  Besides  his  being  a  person  of  quality, 
and  very  brave,  he  had  nlso  acquired  great  honour  in 
the  last  battle;  and  others  might  be  prompted,  from 
the  example  he  set  them,  to  imitate  him.  Alexander 


»  Ncn  its  «"  ssluti  sun>  vello  cnnsullnm,  ut  tot  millia  soci- 
orum  hosti  objiciat :  debere  et  aliis  fugse  viam  patere  qu«e 
patyrrit  sibi  Justin. 

«  [This  place  is  mlled  Mom  mi  urn  by  other*.  It  is  placed 
by  Kennel  on  the  t/iltln  7ab,  anil  ^8  eeocraphical  mile?  S. 
in  Hirer!  disunn-  from  Irbil,  ainl  5  N.  of  the  modern  Kir- 
kook.  Its  modern  appellation  is  Korkor  Baha,  and  answers 
to  the  Corrura  of  I'lolemv,  if  Kirkiwik  be  not  it.  In  Kin- 
nier's  maps  Kirkook  is  placed  GO  British  miles  S.  of  Trhil, 
and  15  miles  S  \V.  of  Martinis.  A  number  of  naphtha  piti 
(till  fxisi  at  Memnis  or  Korkor  Baha.  The  bitumen  used 
for  cement  in  the  erection  of  the  walls  might  be  got  here  or 
•  •  Haditha  on  the  Euphrates,  N.  YV.  of  Babylon.] 


entered  the  city  at  tht  Dead  of  his  whole  vrmy,  ns  H 
he  had  been  marching  10  a  battle.  The  walls  of  Ba 
by  Ion  were  lined  with  people,  notwithstanding  th« 
greatest  part  of  the  citizens  were  gone  out  to  meet 
him,  from  the  impatient  desire  they  had  to  see  their 
new  sovereign,  tvhose  renown  had  far  outstripped  his 
march.  Bagoplnnes,  governor  of  the  forties  and 
guardian  of  the  treasure,  unwilling  to  discover  Uss 
zeal  than  Mazieus.  strewed  the  streets  with  flowers, 
and  raUeti  on  both  sides  of  the  way  silver  altars, 
which  smoked  not  only  with  frankincense,  but  the 
most  fragrant  perfumes  of  every  kind.  Last  of  all 
came  the  presents  which  were  to  be  made  to  the  king, 
viz.  herds  of  cattle,  and  a  great  number  of  horses  M 
also  lions  and  panthers,  which  were  carried  in  cages. 
After  these  the  magi  walked,  singing  hymns  after  the 
manner  of  their  country ;  then  the  Chaldeans,  accom 
panied  by  the  Babylonish  sooths  r,  era  and  musician?: 
it  was  customary  for  the  latter  to  sing  the  pt; .> 
their  kings  to  their  instruments;  and  the  Chaldeans 
to  observe  the  motion  of  the  planets,  and  the  vicissi- 
tude of  the  seasons.  The  rear  was  brought  up  by  the 
Babylonish  cavalry,  of  which  both  men  and  hoix  ? 
were  so  sumptuous,  that  imagination  can  scarce  con- 
ceive their  magnificence.  The  king  caused  the  people 
to  walk  afttr  his  infantry,  and  himself,  surrounded 
with  his  guards,  and  seated  on  a  chariot,  entered  the 
city;  and  from  thence  rode  to  the  palace,  as  in  a  kind 
of  triumph.  The  next  day  he  took  a  view  of  all  Da- 
rius's  money  and  moveables.  Of  the  moneys  which 
he  found  in  Babylon,  he  gave,  by  way  of  extraordi- 
nary recompense,  to  each  Macedonian  horseman  six 
minat  (about  15/. ;)  to  each  foreign  horseman  two 
mince  (about  51. ;)  to  every  Macedonian  foot  sol- 
dier, two  minte;  and  to  every  one  of  the  rest,  two 
months  of  their  ordinary  pay.  He  gave  orders  pur- 
suant to  the  advice  of  the  magi,  with  whom  he  had 
several  conferences,  for  the  rebuilding  the  temples 
which  Xerxes  had  demolished;  and,  among  others, 
that  of  Belus,  who  was  held  in  greater  veneration  at 
Babylon  than  any  other  deity.  He  gave  the  govern- 
ment of  the  province  to  Mazaeus,  and  the  command 
of  the  forces  he  left  there  to  Apollodorus  of  Amplii- 
polis. 

Alexander,  in  the  midst  of  the  hurry  and  tumult  of 
war,  still  preserved  a  love  for  the  sciences.  He  used 
often  to  converse  with  the  Chaldeans,  who  had  al- 
ways applied  themselves  to  the  study  of  astronomy 
from  the  earliest  times,  and  gained  great  fame  by 
their  knowledge  in  it.s  They  presented  him  with 
astronomical  observations,  taken  by  their  predeces- 
sors during  the  space  of  1903  years,  which  conse- 
quently went  a*  far  backward  HS  the  age  of  JVimrod. 
These  were  sent  by  Callisthencs,  who  accompanied 
Alexander,  to  Aristotle. 

The  king  resided  longer  in  Babylon  than  he  had 
done  in  any  other  city,  which  was  of  great  prejudice 
to  the  discipline  of  his  forces.  The  people,  even  from 
a  religious  motive,  abandoned  themselves  to  pleasures, 
to  voluptuousness,  and  the  most  infamous  excesses; 
nor  did  ladies,  though  of  the  highest  quality,  observe 
any  decorum,  or  show  the  least  reserve  in  their  licen- 
tiousness, but  gloried  therein,  so  far  from  endeavour- 
ing to  conceal  it,  or  blushing  at  their  enormity.  It 
must  be  confessed,  that  this  army  of  soldiers,  which 
had  triumphed  over  Asia,  after  having  thus  enervated 
themselves,  and  rioted,  as  it  were,  in  the  sloth  and 
luxury  of  the  city  of  Baby  Ion,  for  thirty-four  days  to- 
gether, would  have  been  scarce  able  to  complete  their 
exploits,  had  they  been  opposed  by  an  enemy.  But, 
as  they  were  reinforced  from  time  to  time,  these  irre- 
gularities were  not  so  visible;  for  Amyntas  brought 
6000  foot  and  500  Macedonian  horse,  which  wer« 
sent  by  Antipater;  and  600  Thraciao  horse,  with 
3500  foot  of  the  same  nation ;  besides  4000  mercena- 
ries from  Peloponnesus,  with  near  400  horses. 

The  above-mentioned  Amyntas  had  also  brought 
the  king  fifty  Macedonian  youths,  sons  to  noblemen 
of  the  highest  quality  in  the  country,  to  serve  as  hil 
guards.  "These  youths  waited  upon  him  at  table, 
brought  him  his  horses  when  in  the  field,  attended 


•  Porphyr.  apud  Simplic.  In  lib.  ii.  da  Ca-lo. 


5ti2 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


upon  him  in  parties  of  hunting,  and  kept  guard  at  the 
door  of  his  apartment  by  turns;  and  these  were  the 
first  steps  to  the  highest  employments  both  in  the  army 
and  the  state. 

After  Alexander  had  left  Babylon,  he  entered  the 
province  of  Sitacena,  the  soil  of  which  is  very  fruit- 
ful, and  productive  of  every  thing  valuable,  which 
made  him  continue  the  longer  in  it.  But  lest  indo- 
lence should  enervate  the  courage  of  his  soldiers,  he 
proposed  prizes  for  such  of  them  as  should  exert  the 
greatest  bravery;  and  appointed  as  judges  of  the  ac- 
tions of  those  who  should  dispute  this  honour,  persons, 
who  themselves  had  been  eye-witnesses  of  the  proofs 
of  bravery  which  each  soldier  had  given  in  the  former 
battles,  for  on  these  only  the  prizes  were  to  be  be- 
stowed To  each  of  the  eight  men  who  were  pro- 
nounced most  valiant,  he  gave  a  regiment,  consisting 
of  1000  men:  whence  those  officers  were  called  Chi- 
liarchi.  This  was  the  first  time  that  regiments  were 
composed  of  so  great  a  number  of  soldiers,  as  they 
consisted  before  but  of  500,  and  had  not  yet  been  the 
reward  of  valour.  The  soldiers  ran  in  crowds  to 
view  this  illustrious  sight,  not  only  as  eye-witnesses 
of  the  actions  of  all,  but  as  judges  over  the  judges 
themselves;  because  they  might  perceive  very  easily 
whether  rewards  were  bestowed  on  merit,  or  merely 
by  favour;  a  circumstance  in  which  soldiers  can  never 
be  imposed  upon.  The  prizes  seem  to  have  been  dis- 
tributed with  the  utmost  equity  and  justice. 

He  likewise  made  several  very  advantageous  changes 
in  military  discipline,  as  established  by  his  prede- 
cessors; lor  he  formed  one  single  body  of  his  whole 
cavalry,  without  showing  any  regard  to  the  difference 
of  nations,  and  appointed  such  officers  to  command 
them,  as  they  themselves  thought  fit  to  nominate; 
whereas  before,  the  horse  of  every  nation  used  to  fight 
under  its  own  particular  standard,  and  was  command- 
ed by  a  colonel  of  its  country.  The  trumpet's  sound 
used  to  be  the  signal  for  the  inarch;  but  as  it  very  fre- 
quently could  not  be  well  heard,  because  of  the  great 
noise  that  is  made  in  decamping,  he  gave  orders  that 
a  standard  should  be  set  up  over  his  tent,  which  might 
be  seen  by  his  whole  army.  He  also  appointed  fire 
to  be  the  signal  in  the  night-time,  and  smoke  in  the  day. 

Alexander  marched  afterwards  towards  Susa,  where 
he  arrived  twenty  days  after  his  leaving  Babylon.  As 
he  came  near  it,  Abutites,  governor  of  the  province, 
gent  his  son  to  meet  him,  with  a  promise  to  surrender 
the  city  into  his  hands;  whether  he  was  prompted  to 
this  from  his  own  inclination,  or  did  it  in  obedience 
to  the  orders  of  Darius,  to  amuse  Alexander  with  the 
hopes  of  plunder,  the  king  gave  this  young  nobleman 
a  very  gracious  reception,  who  conducted  him  to  the 
river  Choaspes,  the  waters  of  which  are  so  famous, 
upon  account  of  their  exquisite  taste.1  The  kings  of 
Persia  never  drank  of  any  other,  and,  whithersoever 
they  went,  a  quantity  of  it,  after  having  been  put  over 
the  fire,  was  always  carried  after  them  in  silver  vases. 
It  was  here  that  Abutites  came  to  wait  upon  hicn, 
bringing  presents  worthy  of  a  king;  among  which 
were  dromedaries  of  incredible  swiftness,  and  twelve 
elephants  which  Darius  had  sent  for  from  India.  Be- 
ing come  into  the  city,  he  took  immense  sums  out  of 
the  treasury,  with  50,000  talents  of  silver*  in  ore  and 
ingots,  besides  moveables,  and  a  thousand  other  things 
of  infinite  value.  This  wealth  was  the  produce  of  the 
exactions  imposed  for  several  centuries  upon  the  com- 
mon people,  from  whose  sweat  and  poverty  immense 
revenues  were  raised.  The  Persian  monarchs  fancied 
they  had  amassed  them  for  their  children  and  poste- 
rity; but.  in  one  hour,  they  fell  into  the  hands  of  a 
foreign  king,  who  was  able  to  make  a  right  use  of 
them;  for  Alexander  seemed  to  be  merely  the  guar- 
dian or  trustee  of  the  immense  riches  which  he  found 
hoarded  up  in  Persia;  and  applied  them  to  no  other 
use  than  the  rewarding  of  merit  and  courage. 
Among  other  things,  there  were  found  SOOOquintals 


:  Herod,  lib.  i.  c.  188. 

*  About  neveii  million*  five  hundred  thounnd  pounds, 
»  The  reader  will  have  an  idea  of  the  prodigious  value  of 
thin,  when  ho  is  told,  that  thin  purple  wni  gold  at  the  rate 
of  a  hundred  crowns  a  pound.    The  quintal  u  a  hundrec 
weight  of  Paru, 


>f  Hermione*  purple,  the  finest  in  the  world,  wmrkt 
lad  been  treasured  up  there  during  ihe  spare  of  190 
r'ears;  notwithstanding  which,  its  beauty  and  lustre 
were  nowise  diminished. 

Here  likewise  was  found  a  part  of  the  rarities  which 
Xerxes  had  brought  from  Greece;  and,  among  other*, 
he  brazen  statues  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton, 
which  Alexander  sent  afterwards  to  Athens,  where 
hey  were  standing  in  Arrian's  time.5 

The  king  being  resolved  to  marcN  into  Persia  ap 
>ointed  Archelaus  governor  of  the  city  of  Susa,  •Mth 

garrison  of  3000  men;  Mezarus,  one  of  the  locus  of 

is  court,  was  made  governor  of  the  citadel,  with  10' 0 

Macedonian  soldiers,  who  could  not   follow   him   ty 

reason  of  their  great  age.     He  gave  the  government 

of  Susiana  to  Abutites. 

He  left  Darius's  mother  and  children  in  Susa;  and 
laving  received  from  Macedonia  a  great  quantity  of 
mrple  stuffs  and  rich  habits,  made  after  the  fashion 
>f  the  country,  he  presented  them  to  Sysigambis,  to- 
gether with  the  artificers  who  had  wrought  them;  fur 
le  had  paid  her  every  kind  of  honour,  and  loved  her 
as  tenderly  as  if  she  nad  been  his  molher.  He  like- 
vise  commanded  the  messengers  to  tell  her,  that  in 
case  she  was  pleased  with  those  stuffs,  she  might  make 
ler  grandchildren  learn  the  art  of  weaving  them,  by 
way  of  amusement;  and  to  give  them  as  presents  to 
whomsoever  they  should  think  proper.  At  these 
words,  the  tears  which  fell  from  her  eyes  showed  but 
:oo  evidently  how  greatly  she  was  displeased  with 
:hese  gifts,  and  how  insulting  she  considered  the  mes- 
sage; the  working  in  wool  being  considered  by  the 
Persian  women  as  the  highest  ignominy.  Those  who 
carried  these  presents,  having  told  the  king  that  Sy- 
sigambis was  very  much  dissatisfied,  he  thought  him- 
self obliged  to  make  an  apology  for  what  he  had  done, 
and  administer  some  consolation  to  her.  According- 
ly, he  paid  her  a  visit,  when  ht  spoke  thus:  "  Mother, 
the  stuff  in  which  you  see  me  clothed,  was  not  only  a 
present  from  my  sisters,  but  wrought  by  their  fingers. 
Hence  I  be^  you  to  believe,  that  the  custom  ol  my 
country  misled  me;  and  do  not  consider  that  as  in 
suit,  which  was  owing  entirely  to  ignorance.  I  be- 
lieve I  have  not  as  yet  clone  any  thing  which  I  knew 
nterfered  with  your  manners  and  customs  I  was 
told,  that  among  the  Persians  it  is  a  sort  of  rrime  for 
a  son  to  seat  himself  in  his  mother's  presence,  with- 
out first  obtaining  her  leave.  You  are  sensible  how 
cautious  I  have  always  been  in  this  particular;  and 
that  I  never  sat  down,  till  you  had  first  laid  your  com- 
mands upon  me  to  do  so.  And  every  time  that  you 
were  going  to  fall  prostrate  before  me,  '  only  ask  you 
whether  I  would  suffer  it?  As  the  highest  testimony 
of  the  veneration  I  have  for  you,  I  have  always  called 
you  by  the  tender  name  of  mother,  though  this  be- 
longs properly  to  Olympias  alone,  to  whom  I  owe  my 
birth." 

What  I  have  just  now  related,  ntny  suggest  two  re- 
flections, both  which,  in  ni"  opinion,  are  very  natu- 
ral, and  at  the  same  time  of  the  utmost  importance. 

First,  we  see  to  how  great  a  height  the  Persians  (so 
vain  and  haughty  in  other  respects)  carried  the  vene- 
ration they  showed  their  parents.  The  leader,  doubt- 
less remembers,  that  Cyrus  the  Great,  in  the  midst  ot 
his  conquests,  and  at  the  most  brilliant  era  of  his, 
good  fortune,  would  not  accept  of  the  advantageous 
offer  made  him  by  Cyaxares,  his  uncle,  of  giving  him 
his  daughter  in  marriage,  and  Media  for  her  dowry, 
till  he  had  first  advised  with  his  father  and  mother 
and  obtained  their  consent.  History  informs  us,* 
here,  that  among  the  Persians,  a  son,  how  great  and 
powerful  soever  he  might  be,  never  dared  to  «eat  him- 
self before  his  mother,  till  he  had  first  obtained  her 
leave;  and  that  to  do  otherwise  was  considered  a»  a 
crime.  Alas!  how  widely  different  are  our  manners. 
Secondly,  I  discover  in  the  same  relation,  several 


«  Hermione  was  a  city  of  Argolis,  where  the  bent  purpla 
was  dvd. 

•  What  Arr'mn  ascribes  here  to  Alexander,  in  regard  t« 
the  statues  of  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton,  is  attributed  by 
other  hiitorians  to  other  princes. 

<  Scio  iipml  vos,  (ilium  in  conepectu  mntris  nefasessecon 
sidere.  nisi  cum  ilia  pcrmisit.  Quint.  Curt 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


503 


valuable  footsteps  of  that  happy  simplicity  which  pre- 
vailed in  ancient  times,  when  it  was  the  custom  for 
Aii' its,  though  of  the  greatest  distinction,  to  employ 
themselves  in  useful  and  sometimes  laborious  works. 
Every  one  knows  what  is  told  us  in  Scripture  to  lint 
purpose  concerning  Rebekah,  Rachel,  and  several 
others.  We  read  in  Homer,  of  princesses  themselves 
drawing  water  from  springs,  and  washing,  with  their 
own  hands,  the  linen  of  their  respective  families. 
Here  the  sisters  of  Alexander,1  that  is,  the  daughters 
of  a  po.verful  prince,  are  employed  in  making  clothes 
for  their  brother.  The  celebrated  Lucrelia  used  to 
ipm  in  the  midst  of  her  female  attendants.  Augustus, 
who  was  sovereign  of  the  world,  wore,  for  several 
yeare  together.no  other  clothes  but  what  hit  wife  anil 
iisler  rjade  him.  It  was  a  custom  in  the  northern 
parts  of  the  world,  not  many  years  since,  for  the 
princes,  who  then  sat  upon  the  throne,  to  prepare 
several  of  the  dishes  at  every  meal.  In  a  word, 
needle-work,  the  care  of  domestic  affairs,  a  serious 
and  retired  life,  is  the  proper  function  of  women,  and 
for  this  they  were  designed  by  Providence.  The  de- 
pravitv  of  the  Hge  ha*  indeed  affixed  to  these  customs, 
which  are  very  near  as  old  as  the  creation,  an  idea  of 
meanness  and  contempt:  but  then,  what  has  it  sub- 
stituted in  the  room  of  the  hardy  and  vigorous  exer- 
cises which  a  proper  education  enabled  the  sex  to  un- 
dertake, in  the  room  of  that  laborious  and  useful  life 
which  was  spent  at  home?  A  languid  indolence,  a 
stupid  idleness,  frivolous  convocation,  vain  amuse- 
ment-, a  strong  passion  for  public  shows,  and  a  frantic 
love  for  gaming.  Let  u«  compare  these  two  charac- 
ters, and  then  pronounce  which  of  them  may  justly 
boast  its  being  founded  on  good  sense,  solid  judgment, 
and  a  taste  lor  truth  and  nature.  It  must,  neverthe- 
less, be  confessed,  in  honour  of  the  fair  sex  and  of  our 
nation,  that  several  ladies  among  us,  and  those  of  the 
highest  quality,  make  it  not  only  a  duty,  but  a  plea- 
sure, to  employ  themselves  in  works,  not  of  a  trifling, 
but  of  the  most  useful  kind  ;  and  to  make  part  of  their 
furniture  with  their  own  hands.  I  also  might  add, 
that  great  numbers  of  these  adorn  their  minds  with 
agreeable,  and,  at  the  same  time,  serious  and  useful 
Studies. 

Alexander,  having  taken  his  leave  of  Sysigambis, 
wno  now  was  extremely  well  satisfied,  arrived  on  the 
banks  of  a  river,  called  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  coun- 
try Pa*i-Tigris.*  3  Having  crossed  it  with  9000  foot 
and  3000  hor«e,  consisting  of  Agrians,  as  well  as  of 
Grecian  mercenaries,  and  a  reinforcement  of  3000 
Thracians,  he  entered  the  country  of  the  Uxii.  This 
region  lies  near  Susa  and  extend's  to  the  frontiers  of 
Persia;  a  narrow  pass  only  lying  between  it  and 
Susiana.  Made  tea  commanded  this  province.  This 
man  was  not  a  time  server,*  not  a  follower  of  fortune; 
but  faithful  to  his  sovereign,  he  resolved  to  hold  out  to 
the  last  extremity;  and  for  this  purpose  had  withdrawn 
Into  his  own  city,  which  stood  in  the  midst  of  craggy 
rocks,  and  was  surrounded  with  precipices.  Having 
been  forced  from  thence,  he  retired  into  the  citadel, 
whence  the  besieged  sent  thirty  deputies  to  Alexan- 
der, to  sue  for  quarter;  which  they  obtained,  at  'ast, 
by  the  intercession  of  Sysigambia.  The  king  not  on- 
ly pardoned  Madetes,  who  was  a  near  relation  of  that 
princess,  but  likewise  set  all  the  captives,  and  those 
who  had  surrendered  themselves,  at  liberty;  permit- 
ted them  to  enjoy  their  several  rights  and  privileges; 
would  not  sutler  the  city  to  be  plundered,  and  per- 
mitted them  to  plough  their  lands  without  paying  any 
tax  or  tribute.  Could  Sysigambis  have  p>js*ibly  ob- 
tained more  from  her  own  son  on  this  occasion,  had 
he  been  the  victor? 

The  Uxii  being  subdued,  Alexander  gave  part  of 
hit  army  to  Parmenio,  ajtd  commanded  him  to  march 
it  through  the  plain:  whilst  himself,  at  the  head  of 
his  light-armed  troops,  crossed  the  mountains,  which 


'  Mater,  limnc  vestem.  qua  indulus  torn,  nororum  non  10- 
him  donum,  wd  etiam  opus  rides.     Quint.  Curt, 

•  Tliia  n  a  different  river  from  the  Tijris. 

»  [This  rivrr  is  the  modern  Jerahi.    See  a  former  note  on 
Busa  and  lh«  river  Gyndei.] 

*  Hand  cane  temporum  homo:  qnippe  ultima  pro  fide  ez- 
periri  decreverat     Q«iiU.  Curt 


extend  as  far  as  Persia.  The  fifth  day  he  arrived  at 
the  pass  of  Susa.  Ariobananes,  with  -1000  foot  ana 
700  horse,  had  taken  possession  ol  those  rocks  which 
are  craggy  on  all  sides,  and  posted  the  Barbarians  at 
the  summit,  out  of  the  reach  ol  arrows.  He  also  had 
built  a  wall  in  those  passes,  and  encamped  his  forces 
under  it.  As  soon  as  Alexander  advanced  in  order  to 
attack  him,  the  Barbarians  rolled,  from  the  top  ol  the 
mountain?,  stones  of  a  prodigious  size,  which  lading 
Irom  rock  to  rock,  rushed  forward  with  the  greater 
violence,  and  at  once  crushed  to  pieces  whole  bands 
of  soldiers.  The  king  being  very  much  tei  rifted  at 
this  sight;  commanded  a  retreat  to  be  sounded;  and 
it  was  with  the  utmost  grief  he  saw  himself  not  only 
stopped  at  this  pass,  but  deprived  of  all  hopes  of  ever 
being  able  to  force  it. 

Whilst  he  was  revolving  these  gloomy  thoughts,  a 
Grecian  prisoner  presented  himsell  to  Alexander,  and 
promised  to  conduct  him  to  the  top  of  the  mountain 
by  another  way.  The  king  accepted  of  the  offer,  and 
leaving  the  superintendence  of  the  camp  and  of  the 
army  to  Craterus,  he  commanded  him  to  cause  a  great 
number  of  tires  to  be  lighted,  in  order  that  the  Bar- 
barians might  thereby  be  more  strongly  induced  to 
believe,  that  Alexander  was  there  in  person.  After 
this,  taking  some  chosen  troops  with  him,  he  set  out, 
going  through  all  the  by-ways  as  bis  guide  directed. 
But,  besides  that  these  paths  were  very  craggy,  and 
the  rocks  so  slippery  that  their  feet  would  -rarce 
stand  upon  them;  the  soldiers  were  also  very  much 
•  .-;n  --id  by  the  snows  whick<the  winds  had  brought 
together,  and  which  were  so  deep,  that  the  men  fell 
into  them,  as  into  so  many  ditches;  and  when  their 
comrades  endeavoured  to  draw  them  out,  they  thi-m- 
-ii\i-  would  likewise  sink  into  them;  nut  to  mention, 
that  their  fears  were  greatly  increased  by  the  horrors 
ol  the  night,  by  their  being  in  an  unknown  country, 
and  conducted  by  a  guide  whose  fidelity  was  doubt- 
ful. After  having  gone  through  many  difficulties  and 
dangers,  they  at  last  got  to  the  top  of  the  mountain. 
Then  going  down,  they  discovered  the  enemy's  corps- 
de-garde,  and  appeared  behind  them  sword  in  hand, 
at  a  time  when  they  least  expected  it.  Such  as  made 
the  least  defence,  who  were  but  few,  were  cut  ti> 
pieces;  by  which  means  the  cries  of  the  dying  on  onu 
side,  and  on  the  other  the  fright  of  those  who  were 
retiring  to  their  main  body,  spread  so  great  a  terror, 
that  they  fled,  without  striking  a  blow.  At  this  noise 
Craterus  advanced,  as  Alexander  had  commanded 
when  he  left  him,  and  seized  the  pass,  which,  till 
then,  had  resisted  his  attacks;  and  at  the  same  time 
Philotas  advanced  forwards  by  another  way^  with 
Aiuyntas,  Cuenus,  and  Polysperchon,  and  broke  quite 
through  the  Barbarians,  who  now  were  attacked  on 
every  side.  The  greatest  part  of  them  were  cut  to 
pieces,  and  those  who  fled,  fell  into  precipices.  Ari- 
obarzanes,  with  part  of  the  cavalry,  escaped  through 
mountains. 

Alexander,  in  consequence  of  the  good  fortune 
which  constantly  attended  him  in  all  his  undertak- 
ings, having  extricated  himself  happily  out  of  the  dan- 
ger to  which  he  was  so  lately  exposed,  marched  im- 
mediately towards  Persia.  On  the  road  he  received 
letters  from  Tiridates,  governor  of  Persepolis,  which 
informed  him.  that  the  inhabitants  of  that  city,  upon 
the  report  of  his  advancing  towards  him,  were  deter- 
mined to  plunder  Dariusjy  treasures,  with  which  be 
was  intrusted,  and  therefore  that  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  make  all  the  haste  imaginable  to  seize  them 
himself;  that  he  had  only  the  A  raxes5  to  en,--,  .-:ttr 
which  the  n-ad  was  smooth  and  easy.  Alexander, 
upon  this  news,  leaving  his  infantry  behind,  marched 
the  whole  night  at  the  head  of  bis  cavalry,  who  were 
very  much  harassed  by  the  length  and  swiftness  of 
this  march,  and  passed  the  A  raxes  on  a  bridge,  which 
by  his  order,  had  been  built  some  days  before. 

But,  as  he  drew  near  the  city,  he  perceived  *  large 
body  of  men,  who  exhibited  a  memorable  example 
of  the  extremes!  misery.  These  were  about  800 
Greeks,  very  far  advanced  in  years,  who,  having  bee» 
made  prisoners  of  war,  had  suffered  all  the  tor.ueoU 


This  it  not  the  taue  river  with  that  in  Armeat 


5(»4 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


which  the  Persian  tyranny  could  inflict.  They  haH 
cut  ort  the  hands  of  some,  the  feet  of  others;  the  noses 
and  ears  of  others;  alter  which,  having  impressed,  by 
fire,  barbarous  chiirarters  on  their  faces,  they  had  the 
iiihiiin.inity  to  keep  them  as  so  many  laughing-Mocks, 
with  wtiirh  they  ft.jtted  iheir  eyes  and  their  cruelty. 
They  appeared  like  so  ninny  shadows,  rather  than  like 
men;  speech  being  almost  the  only  thing  by  which 
they  w.  re  known  to  be  such.  Alexander  could  not 
refrain  fr,>m  tears  at  this  sight ;  and  as  they  unanimous- 
ly be.-ouglit  him  to  commiserHte  their  condition,  he 
bid  them,  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  not  to  despond, 
and  assured  them  that  they  should  again  see  their 
wives  and  country.  This  "proposal,  which  one 
might  suppose  should  naturally  have  tilled  them  with 
joy,  perplexed  them  very  much,  various  opinions 
arising  on  the  occasion.  "  How  will  it  be  possible," 
said  one  of  them,  "for  us  to  appear  publicly  before 
all  Greece,  in  the  dreadful  condition  to  which  we  are 
reduced;  a  condition  still  more  shameful  than  dissa- 
tisfactory? The  best  way  to  bear  misery  is  to  conceal 
it;  and  no  country  is  so  sweet  to  the  wretched  as  so- 
litude, and  an  oblivion  of  their  past  happiness.  Be- 
sides, how  will  it  be  possible  for  us  to  undertake  so 
long  a  journey?  Driven  to  a  great  distance  from  Eu- 
rope, banished  to  the  mosl  remote  parts  of  the  east, 
worn  out  with  age,  and  most  of  our  limbs  maimed, 
can  we  pretend  to  undergo  faligueg,  which  have  wea- 
ried even  a  triumphant  army?  The  only  thing  that 
now  remains  for  us,  is  to  hide  our  misery,  and  to  end 
our  days  among  those  who  are  already  so  accustomed 
to  our  misfortunes."  Others,  in  whom  the  love  of 
their  conutry  extinguished  all  other  sentiments,  re- 
presented, "  that  the  gods  offered  them  what  they 
should  not  even  have  dared  to  ask,  viz.  their  country, 
their  wives,  their  children,  and  all  those  things  for 
u hose  sake  men  are  fond  of  life,  and  despise  death; 
that  they  had  long  enough  borne  the  sad  yoke  of 
slavery;  and  that  nothing  happier  could  present  it- 
self than  their  being  indulged  the  bliss  of  going  at 
last  to  breathe  the  air  of  liberty,  to  resume  their  an- 
cient manners,  laws,  and  sacrifices,  and  to  die  in  the 
presence  of  their  wives  and  children." 

However  the  former  opinion  prevailed;  and  ac- 
cordingly they  besought  the  king  to  permit  them  to 
continue,  in  a  country  where  they  had  spent  so  many 
years.  He  granted  their  request,  and  presented  each 
of  them  3000  drachmas;1  five  men's  suits  of  clothes, 
and  the  same  number  for  women;  two  couple  of  oxen 
to  plough  their  lands,  and  corn  to  sow  them.  He 
commanded  the  governor  of  the  province  not  to  suf- 
fer them  to  be  molested  in  any  manner,  and  ordered 
that  they  should  be  free  from  taxes  and  tributes  of 
every  kind.  Such  behaviour  as  this  was  truly  royal. 
It  was,  indeed,  impossible  for  Alexander  to  restore 
them  the  limbs,  of  which  the  Persians  had  so  cruelly- 
deprived  them;  but  he  restored  them  to  liberty,  tran- 
quillity, and  abundance.  Thrice  happy  those  princes, 
who  are  affected  with  the  pleasure  which  arises  from 
the  doing  of  good  actions,  and  who  melt  with  pity 
for  the  unfortunate  ! 

Alexander,  having  called  together,  the  next  day, 
the  generaU  of  his  army,  represented  to  them,  "That 
no  city  in  the  world  had  ever  been  more  fatal  to  the 
Greeks  than  Persepolis,  the  ancient  residence  of  the 
Persian  monarch*,  and  the  capital  of  their  empire: 
that  it  was  from  thence  all^hose  mighty  armies  pour- 
ed, which  had  overflowed  Greece;  and  whence  Da- 
riuj  first,  and  afterwards  Xerxes,  had  carried  the  fire- 
brand of  the  most  accursed  war,  which  had  laid  waste 
•II  F.nrope;  and  therefore  that  it  was  incumbent  OR 
them  to  revenge  the  manes  of  their  ancestors."  It 
was  already  abandoned  by  the  Persians,  who  all  fled 
as  fear  directed  them.  Alexander  entered  it  with  his 
phalanx,  when  the  victorious  soldiers  soon  met  with 
riches  sufficient  to  satiate  their  avarice,  and  immedi- 
ately cut  to  pieces  all  those  who*  still  remained  in  the 
city.  However,  the  king  soon  put  an  end  to  the  mas- 
sacre, and  nublisned  an  order,  by  which  his  soldiers 
were  forbid  to  violate  the  chastity  of  the  women. 
Alexander  had  before  possessed  himself,  either  by 


force  or  capitulation,  of  a  great  number  of  incredibh 
rich  cities;  but  all  this  was  a  tiille  compared  with  th« 
treasn'es  he  found  here.  The  Barbarians  had  laid  up 
at  Persepolis,  as  in  a  storehouse,  all  the  wealth  of 
Persia.  Gold  and  silver  were  never  seen  here  but  in 
heap*,  not  to  mention  the  clothes  and  furniture  of  in- 
estimable value;  for  this  was  the  seat  of  luxury. 
There  were  found  in  the  treasury  120,000  talent*,' 
which  were  designed  to  defray  the  exj>e:ise  of  the 
war.  To  this  prodigious  sum  he  added  6000  talt-nts,' 
taken  from  Pasargada.  This  was  a  city  which  Cyrus 
had  built,  wherein  the  kings  of  Persia  used  to  b-« 
crowned. 

During  Alexander's  stay  in  Persepolis,  a  little  be- 
fore he  set  out  upon  his  march  against  Darius,  he  en- 
tertained his  friends  at  a  banquet,  at  which  the  guexti 
drank  to  excess.  Among  the  women,  who  were  ad- 
mitted to  it,  was  Thais  the  courtesan,  a  native  of  At- 
tica, and  at  that  time  mistress  to  Ptolemy,  who  after- 
wards was  king  of  Egypt.  About  the  end  of  the 
feast,  during  which  she  had  studiously  endeavoured 
to  praise  the  king  in  the  most  artful  and  delicate  man- 
ner (a  stratagem  too  often  practised  by  women  of  that 
character,)  she  said,  with  a  gay  tone  of  voice,  "  Ttiat 
it  would  be  matter  of  inexpressible  joy  to  her,  were 
she  permitted  (in  order  to  end  this  lestival  noblv)  to 
burn  the  magnificent  palace  of  Xerxes,  who  had  burn- 
ed^Athens;  and  to  set  it  on  fire  with  her  own  hand, 
in  presence  of  the  king,  in  order  that  it  might  be  said 
in  all  parts  of  the  world,  that  the  women  who  had  fol- 
lowed Alexander  in  his  expedition  to  Asia,  had  taken 
much  better  vengeance  of  the  Persians,  for  the  many 
calamities  they  had  brought  upon  the  Grecians,  than 
all  the  generals  who  had  fought  for  them  both  by  sea 
and  land."  All  the  guests  applauded  the  discourse; 
when  immediately  the  king  rose  from  the  table  (his 
head  being  crowned  with  Howers,)  and  taking  a  torch 
in  his  hand,  he  advanced  forward  to  execute  thit 
mighty  exploit.  The  whole  company  follow  him. 
breaking  into  loud  acclamations,  and  afterwards,  si ng- 
ng  and  dancing,  they  surround  the  palace.  All  th« 
rest  of  the  Macedonians,  at  this  noise,  ran  in  crowds, 
with  lighted  torches,  and  set  fire  to  every  part  of  it 
However,  Alexander  was  sorry,  not  long  a;ti  r,  tot 
what  he  had  done;  and  thereupon  gave  orders  lot 
extinguishing  the  fire,  but  it  was  too  late. 

As  he  was  naturally  very  bountiful,  his  great  succes 
ses  increased  this  benificent  disposition;  and  he  ac- 
companied the  presents  he  made  with  such  testimo- 
nies of  humanity  and  kindness,  and  so  obliging  a  de- 
meanour, as  very  much  enhanced  their  value.  He 
acted  thus  in  a  particular  manner  towards  fifty  Mace- 
donian young  noblemen,  who  served  under  him  as 
guards,  Olympias  his  mother,  thinking  him  too  pro- 
fuse, wrote  to  him  as  follows:  "  I  do  not  blame  you," 
said  she,  "for  being  beneficent  towards  your  friends, 
for  that  is  acting  like  a  king;  but  then  a  medium 
ought  to  be  observed  in  your  magnificence.  You 
equal  them  all  with  kings,  and  by  heaping  riches  on 
them,  you  give  them  an  opportunity  of  making  a 
great  number  of  friends,  of  all  whom  you  deprive 
yourself."  As  she  often  wrote  the  same  advice  to 
him,  he  always  kept  her  letters  very  secret,  and  did 
not  show  them  to  any  person;  but  happening  to  open 
one  of  them,  and  beginning  to  read  it,  Hepluestion 
drew  near  to  him,  and  read  it  over  his  shoulder,  which 
the  king  observing,  did  not  offer  to  hinder  him;  but 
only  taking  the  ring  from  his  finger,  he  put  the  seal 
of  it  upon  the  lips  of  his  favourite,  as  an  admonition 
to  him  not  to  divulge  what  he  had  read. 

He  used  to  send  magnificent  presents  to  his  mother; 
but  then  he  never  would  let  her  have  any  concern  in 
the  affairs  of  the  government.  She  used  frequently 
to  make  very  severe  complaints  upon  that  account; 
but  he  always  submitted  to  her  ill  humour  with  great 
mildness  and  patience.  Antipater  having  one  day 
written  a  long  letter  against  her,  the  king,  after  read/- 
ing  it,  replied,  "  A ntipater  does  not  know  that  one 
single  tear  shed  bv  a  mother,  will  obliterate  10.000 
such  letters  as  this."  A  behaviour  like  this,  and  snch 
an  answer  shoxv,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  that  Alex- 


I  About  75i 


>  About  16.000.000/  .terling. 


•  About  WO.OOOJ. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


565 


incer  was  both  a  kind  von  and  an  able  politician;  and 
(hat  he  was  perfectly  sensible  how  dangerous  it 
T<juld  have  been,  had  he  invested  a  woman  ol  Olym- 
Dias's  character  with  lue  supreme  authority. 

5  f.CTlON  X. — IMKIUS  LEAVES  ECBATANA.  HE 
IS  1JETKAYED  .AND  I'UT  IN  CHAINS  BV  11ESSUS, 
GGVERNCR  OF  BACTRIANA.  THE  LATTER,  UI-ON 
ALEXANDER'S  ADVANCING  TOWARD  HIM,  FLIES, 
AFTER  HAVING  COVERED  DARICS  WITH  WOUNDS, 
WHO  EXPIRES  A  FEW  MOMENTS  JiEFORE  ALEX- 
ANDER'S ARRIVAL.  HE  SENDS  HIS  CORl'SE  TO 
6VS1GAMBIS. 

ALEXANDER.'  after  he  had  taken 
A.  M.  3674.  Persepolis  and  Pasargada, resolved 
Ant.  J.  C.  330.  to  pursue  Darius,  who  was  arrived 
by  this  time  at  Kcbatana,  the  capi- 
tal of  Media.  There  remained  still  wilh  this  fugi- 
tive prince  30,000  foot,  among  whom  were  4000 
Greeks,  who  were  faithful  lo  him  lo  the  last.  Be- 
tides  these  he  had  4000  stingers,  and  upwards  of  3000 
taMilr}  ,  most  of  them  Bactnans,  commanded  by  Bes- 
sus, governor  of  Bactriana.  Darius  marched  his 
forces  a  little  out  of  the  common  road,  having  order- 
ed his  baggage  to  go  before;  then  assembling  his 
principal  otiicers,  he  spoke  to  them  as  follows:  "  Dear 
companions,  among  so  many  thousand  men  who  com- 
posed my  army,  you  alone  have  not  abandon*  d  me 
during  the  whole  course  of  my  ill  fortune;  and  in  a 
little  time,  nothing  but  your  lidelitv  and  constancy 
will  be  able  to  make  me  fancy  myself  a  king.  De- 
serter* and  traitors  now  govern  in  my  cities;  not 
that  they  are  thought  worthy  of  the  honour  bestow- 
ed upon  them,  but  that  the  rewards  which  are  given 
them  may  tempt  you  to  follow  their  example,  and 
stagger  your  perseverance.  You  have,  however, 
still  chosen  to  follow  my  fortune  rather  than  that  of 
the  conqueror,  for  which  you  certainly  have  merited 
a  recompense  from  the  gods;  and  do  not  doubt  but 
lliev  "ill  prove  beneficent  towards  you,  in  case  that 
power  is  denied  me.  With  such  soldiers  and  officers 
I  would  brave,  without  the  least  dread,  the  enemy, 
how  formidable  soever  he  may  be.  What !  would  any 
one  have  me  surrender  myself  up  to  the  im-rcy  ol 
the  conqueror,  and  expect  Irom  him,  as  a  reward  of 
my  baseness  and  meanness  ol  spirit,  the  government 
ol  sonic  province  which  he  may  condescend  to  leave 
me?  .No — It  never  shall  be  in  the  powerof  any  man, 
either  to  take  away,  or  fix  upon  my  head,  the  dia- 
dem 1  wear;  the  same  hour  shall  put  a  period  to  my 
reign  and  life.  If  you  have  all  the  same  courage  and 
resolution,  which  1  can  no  ways  doubt,  I  will  engage 
that  you  shall  retain  your  liberty,  and  not  lit-  expos- 
ed to  the  pride  and  insults  of  the  Macedonians.  You 
have  in  3 our  hands  the  means  either  to  revenge  or 
terminate  all  your  evils."  Having  ended  his  speech, 
the  whole  body  of  soldiers  replied  with  shouts,  that 
they  were  ready  to  follow  him  withersoever  he  should 
go,  and  would  shed  !he  last  drop  of  their  blood  in 
his  defence. 

Such  was  the  resolution  of  the  soldiery;  but  Na- 
barzanes,  one  of  the  greatest  lords  of  Persia,  and  ge- 
neral of  the  horse,  had  conspired  with  Bessus,  ge- 
neral of  the  Hadrian-,  to  commit  the  blackest  of  all 
crime?,  to  seize  upon  the  person  of  the  king,  and 
lay  him  in  chains;  which  they  might  easily  do,  as 
«•;!<  h  iii"  llit  in  had  a  great  number  of  soldiers  under 
bis  command.  Theirdesign  was,  if  Alexander  should 
pursue  them,  to  secure  themselves  by  giving  up  Da- 
rius alive  into  his  hands;  and,  in  case  they  escaped, 
to  murder  that  prince,  and  afterwards  usurp  his 
crown,  and  begin  a  new  war.  These  traitors  soon 
won  over  the  troops,  by  representing  to  them,  that 
they  were  going  to  their  destruction;  that  they 
would  soon  be  crushed  under  the  ruins  of  an  empire 
which  was  just  ready  to  fall;  at  the  same  time  that 
Bactriana  was  open  to  them,  and  offered  them  im- 
mense riches.  Though  these  intrigues  were  carried 
on  very  secretly,  they  came  however  to  the  ear  of 


•  DioJ.  1.  xvii.  p.  WO— 5-10.  Arrian.  1.  iii.  p.  133— 137. 
Hut.  in  Alex  p  WJt  a  Curt.  L  v. c.  B— 14.  Justin.  1.  xi. 
•  13. 


Darius,  who  could  not  bc:".eve  them.  Patron,  who 
COBinwnded  the  Greeks,  intreated  him,  but  in  vain, 
to  pilch  his  tent  among  them,  and  to  trust  the  guard 
of  his  person  to  men,  on  whose  fidelity  he  might  de- 
pend. Darius  could  not  prevail  with  hin<.-e  li  to  pot 
so  great  an  affront  upon  the  Persians,  and  therefore 
made  answer:  "That  it  would  be  a  less  affliction  to 
him  lo  be  deceived  by,  than  to  condemn  them:  that 
he  would  suffer  the.  worst  of  evils  amidst  those  of  his 
own  nation,  rather  than  seek  for  security  among 
stranger?,  how  lailhful  and  affectionate  soever  he 
might  belie ve  them:  and  that  he  could  not  but  die 
too  late,  in  case  the  Persian  soldiers  thought  him  un- 
worthy of  lile."  It  was  not  long  before  Darius  ex- 
perienced the  truth  of  this  information;  for  the  trai- 
tors seized  him,  bound  him  in  chains  of  gold,  l>, 
way  of  honour,  as  he  was  a  king,  and  then  laying 
him  in  a  covered  chariot,  they  set  out  towards  Bac- 
triana. 

Alexander,  being  arrived  at  Ecbatann,  was  inform- 
ed that  Darius  had  left  that  city  five  days  before. 
He  then  commanded  Parmenio  to  lav  upal'l  the  trea- 
sures of  Persia  in  the  castle  of  Kcbatana,  under  a 
strong  guard  which  he  left  there.  According  to 
Strabo,2  these  treasures  amounted  to  180,000  talent* 
(about  27.000.000/.  sterling;)  and,  according  to  Jut- 
tin,3  10,000  talents  (about  l.oOO.OOO/.)  more.  He  or- 
dered him  to  march  afterwards  towards  Hy  tcariia,  by 
the  country  of  the  Caelu*ian<,  with  the  Thracian?,  Ihe 
foreigners,  and  the  rest  of  the  cavalry,  the  royal  com- 
panies excepted.  He  sent  orders  to  Clitns,  who  <taid 
behind  in  Susa,  where  he  lay  sick,  that  as  soon  ag  he 
was  arrived  at  Ecbatana,  he  should  take  the  forcei 
which  were  left  in  that  city,  and  come  to  him  in 
Paithia. 

Alexander,  with  the  rest  of  hisarmv,  pursued  Da- 
rius, and  arrived  the  eleventh  day  at  fthages  *  which 
is  a  long  day's  journey  from  the  Caspian  straits:  but 
Darius  I. ad  already  passed  through  them.  Alexander 
now  despairing  to  » v  ertake  him,  what  despatch  soever 
he  might  make,  stayed  there  five  days  to  rest  his  for* 
ces.  He  then  marched  against  the  Parthians,  and 
the  first  day  pitched  his  camp  near  the  Caspian 
straits,  and  passed  them  the  next.  News  wag  soon 
brought  him,  that  Darius  had  been  seized  by  the  trai- 
tois;  that  Bessus  had  caused  him  to  be  drawn  in  a 
chariot,  and  had  sent  the  unhappy  monarch  before, 
in  order  to  be  the  surer  of  his  person;  that  the  whole 
army  obeyed  that  wretch,  Artabazug  and  the  Greek* 
excepted.  who,  not  having  a  soul  base  enough  tc 
consent  to  so  abominable  a  deed,  and  being  too  weak 
to  prevent  it,  had  therefore  left  the  high  road,  anc 
marched  towards  the  mountains. 

This  was  a  fresh  motive  for  him  to  hasten  hit 
march.  The  Barbarians  at  his  arrival  were  seized 
with  dread;  though  the  match  would  not  have  been 
equal,  had  Bessns  been  as  resolute  lor  fighting  as  for 
putting  in  execution  the  eielestable  act  abo\"e-men- 
tioned:  for  his  troops  exceeded  the  enemy  both  in 
number  and  strength,  and  were  all  cool  and  ready 
for  the  combat;  whereas  Alexander's  troops  were 
quite  fatigued  wilh  the  length  of  their  march.  But 
the  name  and  reputation  ol  Alexander  (a  motive  all 
powerful  in  war)  filled  them  with  such  terror,  that 
they  all  fled.  Bessus  and  his  accomplices  being  come 
up  with  Darius,  requested  him  to  mount  his  horse,  and 
fly  from  the  enemy;  but  he  replied  that  the  gods 
were  ready  to  avenge  the  evils  he  had  suffered;  and 
beseeching  Alexander  to  do  him  justice,  he  refused 
to  follow  a  band  of  traitorg.  At  these  words  they 
fell  into  such  a  fury,  that  throwing  their  darts  at 
him,  they  left  him  covered  with  wounels.  After  ha- 
ving perpetrated  this  horrid  crime,  they  separated, 
in  order  to  leave  different  footsteps  of  their  flight, 
and  thereby  elude  the  pursuits  of  the  enemy,  in  ca«e 
he  should  iollow  them;  oral  least  oblige  him  to  di- 
vide hie  forces.  IS'abarMiies  took  the  way  of  Ihica- 
nia,  and  Bestus  that  of  Uactriana,  both  being  follow- 
eel  by  a  very  few  horsemen;  and  at  the  Barbarian* 
were  by  this  means  elestitute  of  leaders,  they  disjier 


*  Strab.l.  xv.  p.  741.  *  -I""'"  I-  »"•  e,  L 

*  This  it  the  city  mentioned  in  Tobit,  iv.  1. 

2  X 


56C 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


»fcd  themselves  up  and  down,  as  fear  or  hope  directed 
iheir  steps. 

Alter  searching  about  in  different  places,  Darius 
was  at  last  found,  in  a  retired  spot,  his  body  run 
through  with  spears,  lying  in  a  chariot,  and  drawing 
near  his  end.  However,  he  had  strength  enough  be- 
fore he  died,  to  call  for  drink,  which  a  Macedonian, 
named  Polystratus,  brought  him.  He  had  with  him 
a  Persian  prisoner,  whom  he  employed  as  interpreter. 
Darius,  alter  drinking  the  liquor  that  had  been  given 
him,  turned  to  the  Macedonian  and  said,  "That  in 
the  deplorable  state  to  which  he  was  reduced,  he 
however  should  have  the  comfort  to  speak  to  one 
who  could  understand  him,  and  that  his  last  words 
would  not  be  lost.  He  therefore  charged  him  to  tell 
Alexander,  that  he  died  in  his  debt,  without  having 
had  the  power  of  returning  his  obligations:  that  he 
gave  him  infinite  thanks  for  the  great  kindness  he 
had  shown  towards  his  mother,  his  wife,  and  his 
children,  not  only  sparing  their  lives,  but  permitting 
them  to  continue  in  their  former  splendour:  that  he 
besought  the  gods  to  give  victory  to  his  arms,  and 
make  him  monarch  of  the  universe;  that  he  thought 
he  need  not  entreat  him  to  revenge  the  execrable 
murder  committed  on  his  person,  as  this  was  the 
common  cause  of  kings." 

After  this,  taking  Polystratus  by  the  hand,  "  Give 
him,"  said  he,  ''thy  hand,  as  I  give  thee  mine;  and 
carry  him,  in  my  name,  the  only  pledge  I  am  able  to 
give  of  my  gratitude  and  affection."  Saying  these 
words,  he  breathed  his  last,  Alexander  coming  up  a 
moment  after,  and  seeing  Daiius's  body,  wept  bitter- 
ly; and,  by  the  strongest  testimonies  of  grief  that 
could  be  shown,  proved  how  intimately  he  was  affec- 
ted \fith  the  unhappmess  of  a  prince  who  deserved  a 
better  fate.  He  immediately  pulled  off  his  military 
cloak,  and  threw  it  on  Darius's  body;  then  causing  it 
to  be  embalmed,  and  his  coffin  to  be  adorned  with  a 
«oyal  magnificence,  he  sent  it  to  Sysigambis,  in  order 
j1;it  it  might  be  interred  with  the  honours  usually 
paid  to  the  deceased  Persian  monarchs,  and  be  en- 
tombed with  his  ancestors. 

Thus  died  Darius,  the  third  year 
A.  M.  3674.  of  the  112th  Olympiad,  at  about 
Ant.  J.  C.  330.  fifty  years  of  age,  six  of  which  he 
had  reigned.  He  was  a  gentle  and 
pacific  prince;  his  reign,  with  the  exception  of  the 
death  of  Caridemus,  having  been  unsullied  with  in- 
justice or  cruelty,  which  was  owing  either  to  his  na- 
tural lenity,  or  to  his  not  having  had  an  opportunity 
of  acting  otherwise  from  the  perpetual  war  in  which 
he  had  been  engaged  against  Alexander  ever  since 
his  accession  to  the  throne.  In  him  the  Persian  em- 
pire ended,  after  having  existed  206  years,  compu- 
ting from  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Cyrus  the 
Great  (the  founder  of  it)  under  thirteen  kings:  viz. 
Cyrus,  Cambyses,  Smerdis  the  Magian,  Darius  the 
son  of  Hystaspes,  Xerxes  I.,  Artaxerxes  Longimanus, 
Xerxes  II.,  Sogdianus,  Darius  Nothus,  Artaxerxes 
"Mnemon,  Artaxerxes  Ochus,  Arses,  and  Darius  Co- 
domanus. 

SECTION  XL — VICES  WHICH  FIRST  CAUSED  THE 

DECLINE,  AND  AT  LAST  THE    RUIN   OK  THE   PER- 
SIAN EMPIRE. 

THE  death  of  Darius  Codomanus,  may  very  justly 
be  considered  as  the  era,  but  not  as  the  soie  cause,  of 
the  destruction  of  the  Persian  monarchy.  When 
we  take  a  general  view  of  the  history  of  the  kings 
above-mentioned,  and  consider  with  some  attention 
their  different  characters  and  methods  of  governing, 
whether  in  peace  or  war,  we  easily  perceive  that  this 
decline  was  prepared  at  it  great  distance, and  carried 
on  to  its  end  by  visible  step*  which  denoted  a  total 
ruin. 

We  may  declare  at  first  sight,  that  the  declension 
of  the  Persian  empire  and  its  full,  are  owing  to  its 
very  origin  and  primitive  institution.  It  had  been 
formed  by  the  union  of  two  nations,  who  differed 
very  much  in  manners  and  inclinations.  The  Per- 
lians  were  a  sober,  lab /rious,  modest  people;  but 
the  Me-leg  were  wholly  devoted  to  pomp,  luxury, 
loft  ness  »nu  voluptuousness.  The  example  of  fru- 


gality and  simplicity  which  Cyrus  had  set  thern,  ar.et 
their  being  obliged  to  be  always  under  arms  to  gain 
so  many  victories,  and  support  themselves  in  the 
midst  of  so  many  enemies,  prevented  those  vices 
from  spreading  for  some  time;  but  vvlitn  all  was  sub- 
dued and  in  subjection  to  them,  the  fondness  which 
the  Medes  had  naturally  for  pleasure:  and  magnifi- 
cence, soon  lessened  the  temperance  of  the  Pers.ans, 
and  became  in  a  little  time  the  prevailing  taste  of  the 
two  nations. 

Several  other  causes  conspired  to  this.  Babylon, 
when  conquered,  intoxicated  her  victors  with  her 
poisoned  cup,  and  enchanted  them  with  the  charms 
of  pleasure.  She  furnished  them  with  such  minister* 
and  instruments,  as  were  adapted  to  promote  luxury, 
and  to  foment  and  cherish  voluptuousness  with  art 
and  delicacy;  and  the  wealth  of  the  richest  provinces 
in  the  world  being  at  the  entire  disposal  of  new  so- 
vereigns, they  thereby  were  enabled  to  satiate  all  their 
desires. 

Even  Cyrus  himself,  as  I  have  observed  elsewhere, 
contributed  to  this,  without  foreseeing  the  conse- 
quences of  it;  and  prepared  men's  minds  for  it  by  the 
splendid  festival  which  he  gave,  after  having  ended  his 
conquests;  at  which  he  showed  himself  in  the  midst 
of  his  troops,  who  had  shared  in  his  victories,  with 
such  a  pomp  and  ostentation  as  were  most  capable  of 
dazzling  the  eye.  He  first  inspired  them  with  an  ad- 
miration for  pomp  and  show,  which  they  had  hither- 
to despised.  He  suggested  to  them,  that  magnifi- 
cence and  riches  were  worthy  of  crowning  the  most 
glorious  exploits,  and  the  end  and  fruit  ol  them:  and 
by  thus  inspiring  his  subjects  with  a  strong  desire 
for  things  they  saw  so  highly  esteemed  by  a  most 
accomplished  prince,  his  example  authorized  them 
to  abandon  themselves  to  that  inclination  without 
reserve.  • 

He  spread  this  evil  still  further  by  obliging  h;s 
judges,  officers,  and  govenors  of  provinces,  to  appear 
with  splendour  before  the  people,  the  better  to  repre- 
sent the  majesty  of  the  prince.  On  one  side,  these 
magistrates  and  commanders  easily  mistook  these 
ornaments  and  trappings  of  their  employments  for 
the  most  essential  parts  of  them,  endeavouring  to 
distinguish  themselves  by  nothing  but  this  glittering 
outside;  and,  on  the  other,  men  of  the  greatest 
wealth  in  the  provinces  proposed  them  as  so  many 
patterns  for  their  imitation,  and  were  soon  followed 
by  persons  of  moderate  fortune,  whom  those  in  the 
lowest  stations  of  life  strove  to  equal. 

So  many  causes  of  degeneracy  uniting  together, 
and  being  authorized  publicly,  soon  destroyed  the 
ancient  virtue  of  the  Persians.  They  did  not  sink, 
like  the  Romans,  by  imperceptible  decays,  which  had 
been  long  foreseen  and  often  opposed.  Scarce  was 
Cyrus  dead,  but  there  rose  up  as  it  were  another  na- 
tion, and  kings  of  a  quite  different  genius  and  cha- 
racter Mention  was  no  longer  made  of  that  manly, 
that  severe  education  which  was  bestowed  on  the 
Persian  youth;  of  those  public  schools  of  sobriety, 
patience,  and  emulation  for  virtue,  nor  of  those  labo- 
rious and  warlike  exercises;  of  all  these  there  did 
not  remain  the  smallest  traces;  the  young  men  being 
brought  up  in  splendour  and  effeminacy,  which  they 
now  saw  was  had  in  honour,  immediately  began  to 
despise  the  happy  simplicity  of  their  forefathers  and 
formed,  in  the  space  of  one  generation,  :i;i  entire 
new  set  of  people,  whose  manners,  inclinations,  and 
maxims,  were  directly  opposite  to  those  of  ancient 
times.  They  grew  haughty,  vain,  effeminate,  in- 
human, and  perfidious  in  treaties:  and  acquired  lint 
peculiar  character,  that  thev,  of  all  people,  were  the 
most  abandoned  to  splendour,  luxury,  feasting,  snd 
even  to  drunkenness;  so  that  we  may  all'mn  that  the 
empire  of  thft  Persians  was  almost  at  its  birth,  what 
other  empires  became  through  length  of  time  nlcne, 
and  began  where  others  end.  It  bore  the  pr  nciple 
of  it*  destruction  in  its  own  bosom,  and  this  internal 
vice  increased  in  every  successive  reign. 

Afler  the  unsuccessful  expeditions  of  Darius  and 
Xerxes  against  Scythia  and  Greece,  the  princes  their 
successors  became  insensible  to  the  ambition  of 
making  conquests,  and  gave  themselves  up  a  prey  tt 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


507 


oieness  and  effeminacy;  they  grew  careless  of  mili- 
tary discipline,  and  substituted  in  the  place  of  regu- 
ar  soldiers,  inured  to  the  toils  of  war,  a  confused 
multitude  of  men,  who  were  taken  by  force  out  of 
heir  respective  countries.  The  reader  may  have  ob- 
served, on  more  than  one  occasion,  that  the  whole 
strength,  and  .almost  the  only  resource  of  the  Per- 
sian armv,  lav  in  the  Greeks  whom  they  retained 
in  their  service;  that,  properly  speaking,  they  de- 
pended on  them  only,  and  always  took  great  care  to 
oppose  them  to  the  best  troops  of  the  enemy:  they 
were  the  only  soldiers  in  Darius's  army  who  per- 
formed their  duty,  and  continued  faithful  to  him  to 
the  last;  and  we  have  seen  that  Memnon  the  Rho- 
dian  was  the  sole  great  general  who  made  head 
Bgain't  Alexander. 

Instead  of  choosing  for  the  command  of  their  for- 
ces officers  of  skill  and  experience,  they  used  to  ap- 
pcint  persons  of  the  greatest  quality  of'every  nation, 
who  frequently  had  no  other  merit  than  theirexalted 
birth,  their  riches  and  credit;  and  who  were  distin- 
guished by  nothing  but  the  suinptuousness  of  their 
leasts  and  entertainments,  by  the  magnificence  of 
their  equipages,  and  by  the  crowd  with  which  they 
were  ever  surrounded,  of  guards,  domestics,  eunuchs, 
and  women ;  such  an  assemblage,  formed  merely  for 
rain  show  and  ostentation,  rather  than  for  warlike 
expeditions,  encumbered  an  army  (already  but  too 
numerous)  with  useless  soldiers,  made  it  slow  in  its 
marches  and  movements  by  its  too  heavy  baggage, 
and  rendered  it  incapable  of  subsisting  long  in  a 
country,  and  of  following  up  great  enterprises  in 
sight  of  an  enemy. 

The  Persian  monarchs  shutting  themselyes  up  in 
their  palaces  in  order  to  abandon  themselves  to  plea- 
sures, and  appearing  seldom  abroad,  placed  their 
whole  confidence,  and  by  that  means  all  their  autho- 
rity, in  eunuchs,  in  women,  in  slaves,  and  in  flattering 
courtiers,  whose  sole  thoughts  and  endeavours  were 
to  banish  true  merit,  which  was  offensive  to  them; 
to  give  the  rewards  appointed  for  services  to  their 
own  creatures;  and  to  entrust  the  greatest  employ- 
ments of  the  stale  to  persons  devoted  to  their  inte- 
rested and  ambitious  views,  rather  than  to  such 
whose  abilities  rendered  them  capable  of  serving 
their  country. 

Another  characteristic  of  these  princes,  which  is 
but  too  frequent  in  that  high  sphere,  contributed  very 
much  to  the  ruin  of  the  empire.  They  were  accus- 
tomed from  their  infancy  to  have  their  ears  soothed 
with  false  praises  and  the  most  extravagant  compli- 
ments, and  to  have  a  blind  submission  paid, to  their 
will.  They  were  educated  in  so  exalted  an  idea  of 
their  own  grandeur,  that  they  readily  persuaded 
themst  lyes  that  the  rest  of  men  were  formed  merely 
to  serve  them,  and  administer  to  their  pleasures. 
They  were  not  taught  their  duties,  nor  the  maxims 
of  a  wise  and  good  government;  the  principles  by 
which  men  should  judge  of  solid  merit,  ami  select 
persons  able  to  govern  under  them.  They  did  not 
know  (hat  they  were  raised  to  sovereign  power  mere- 
ly to  protect  their  subjects  and  make  them  happy. 
Tht  \  were  not  made  sensible  of  the  exquisite  plea- 
sure that  a  monarch  feels  who  is  the  delight  of  his 
subjects,  and  the  public  source  of  the  felicity  of  so 
vast  an  empire,  as  Cyrus  the  Great  had  been,  who 
was  so  dear  to  his  people,  that  every  individual  fami- 
ly considered  him  as  their  father,  and  bewailed  his 
tfesth  as  a  public  calamity.  So  far  from  this,  a  mon- 
arch's grandeur  was  declared  to  consist  in  making 
him-.  If  feared,  and  in  his  being  able  to  gratify  all  his 
passion*  with  impunity. 

So  ill  judged  an  education  must  necessarily  form 
either  weak  or  vicious  princes.  They  were  not  able 
to  su>tain  the  weight  of  so  mighty  an  empire,  nor  to 
grar-f)  t'.e  «.  veral  parts  of  so  extensive  and  laborious 
an  administration.  Idleness,  and  a  love  for  pleasure, 
made  them  careless  and  averse  to  business;  and  they 
sacrificed  matters  of  the  highest  importance  to  their 
vain  amusements.  Some  of  them  were  born  with 
such  happy  dispositions,  that  they  would  have  become 
good  princes,  had  they  not  been  enervated  by  the 
charms  of  a  voluptuous  life;  and  abandoned  them- 


selves to  the  allurements  of  a  too  despotic  power,  and 
an  over  great  prosperity.  By  flattery,  they  were  ren- 
dered incapable  ol  listening,  in  their  counsels,  to  anj 
expressions  delivered  with  freedom,  or  of  sulk-ring 
the  least  opposition  to  their  wills. 

It  is  no  wonder  they  were  not  beloved  by  their 
subjects,  since  their  whole  study  was  to  aggrandize 
themselves,  and  to  sacrifice  all  considerations  to  tiiat 
alone.  Darius,  in  his  misfortunes,  was  abandoned  by 
the  generals  of  his  armies,  by  the  governors  of  his 
provinces,  by  his  officers,  domestics,  and  subjects;  and 
did  not  find  any  where  a  sincere  affection,  nor  a  real 
attachment  to  his  person  and  interest.  The  dazzling 
splendour  of  the  Persian  monarchy  concealed  a  real 
weakness;  and  this  unwieldy  power,  heightened  by 
so  much  pomp  and  pride,  had  no  support  in  the  heart* 
of  the  people;  so  that  this  colossus,  at  the  very  first 
blow,  fell  to  the  ground. 

SECTION  XII.—  LACED.CMON  REVOLTS  FROM  THE 
MACEDONIANS,  WITH  ALMOST  ALL  PELOPONNESUS. 
ANTIPATER  .MARCHES  OUT  ON  THIS  OCCASION.  DE- 
FEATS THE  ENEMY  IN  A  BATTLE,  JN  WHICH  AG19 
IS  KILLED.  ALEXANDER  .MARCHES  AGAINST  BES- 
SUS. THALESTRIS,  QUEEN  OF  THE  AMAZON'S, 
COMES  TO  MSIT  HIM  FROM  A  FAR  COUNTRY. 
ALEXANDER,  AT  HIS  RETURN  FKcM  J'ARTHIA, 
ABANDONS  HIMSELF  TO  PLEASURE  AND  EXCESS. 
HE  CONTIMJES  HIS  MARCH  AGAINST  BESSUS.  A 
PRETENDED  CONSPIRACY  OF  PHILOTAS  AGAINST 
THE  KING.  HE,  AND  PARMENIO  HIS  FATHER,  ARK 
PUT  TO  DEATH.  ALEXANDER  SUBDUES  SEVERAL 
NATIONS.  HE  AT  LAST  ARRIVES  IN  BACTRLAKA, 
WHITHER  BESSUS  IS  BROUGHT  TO  HIM. 

WHILST  things  passed   in  Asia 

as   we    have    seen,'    some    tumults  A.  M.  3674. 

broke  out  in  Greece  and  Macedo-  Ant.  J.  C.  330. 
nia.  Memnon,  whom  Alexander 
had  sent  into  Thrace,  having  revolted  there,  and 
thereby  drawn  the  forces  of  Antipater  on  that  side; 
the  Lacedaemonians  thought  this  a  proper  opportunity 
to  throw  off  the  Macedonian  yoke,  and  engaged  al- 
most all  Peloponnesus  in  their  design.  Upon  this 
news,  Antipater,  after  having  settled  to  the  best  of 
his  power  the  affairs  of  Thrace,  returned  with  the 
utmost  expedition  into  Greece,  whence  he  immedi- 
ately despatched  couriers,  in  order  to  give  Alexander 
an  account  of  these  several  transactions.  As  soon  at 
Antipater  was  come  up  with  the  enemy,  he  resolved 
to  give  them  battle.  The  Lacedaemonian  army  con- 
sisted of  no  more  than  20,000  foot  and  2000  horse, 
under  the  command  of  Agis,  their  king;  whereas 
that  of  Antijiater  was  twice  that  number.  Agis,  in 
order  to  make  the  superiority  of  numbers  of  no  effect, 
had  made  choice  of  a  narrow  spot  of  ground.  The 
battle  began  with  great  vigour,  each  party  endeavour- 
ing to  signalize  themselves  in  an  extraordinary  man- 
ner for  the  honour  of  their  res|>ective  countries,  the 
one  fired  with  the  remembrance  of  their  pristine  glo- 
ry, and  the  other  animated  by  their  present  greatness, 
fought  with  equal  courage;  the  Lacedaemonians  for 
liberty,  and  the  Macedonians  for  empire.  So  long 
as  the  armies  continued  on  the  spot  u  here  the  battle 
began,  Agis  had  the  advantage;  but  Antipater,  by 
pretending  to  fly,  drew  the  enemy  into  the  plaint; 
after  which,  extending  his  whole  army,  he  gained  a 
superiority,  and  made  a  proper  use  of  his  advantage. 
Agis  was  distinguished  by  his  suit  of  armour,  his  no- 
ble mien,  and  still  more  so  by  his  valour.  The  battle 
was  hottest  round  his  person,  and  he  himself  perform- 
ed the  most  astonishing  acts  of  bravery.  At  last, 
after  having  been  wounded  in  several  parts  of  hi* 
body,  his  soldiers  carried  him  off  upon  his  shield. 
However  this  did  not  damp  their  courage;  for  having 
seized  an  advantageous  post,  where  they  kept  close  to 
their  ranks,  they  resisted  with  great  rigour  the  at- 
tacks of  the  enemy.  After  having  withstood  them  a 
long  time,  the  Lacedaemonians  began  to  give  ground 
being  scarce  able  to  hold  their  anus,  which  were  all 
covered  with  sweat;  they  afterwards  retired  very  fast, 
and  at  last  ran  quite  away.  The  king,  seeing  himself 


<  DiuJ.  1.  xvi'i.  p.  537.    Q.  Curt.  1.  vi  c  1 


5C8 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


:lose:ly  pursued,  still  made  gome  efforts,  notwithstand- 
ing the  weak  condition  to  which  he  was  reduced,  in 
iju;<  r  1')  oppose  the  enemy.  Intrepid  and  invincible 
to  the  last  oppressed  by  numbers,  he  died  sivoui  in 
hi.nd. 

In  this  engagement  upwards  of  3000  Lacedaemoni- 
ans lost  ihtir  lives,  and  1000  Macedonians  at  most; 
but  \  t TV  f»  w  ol  the  latter  returned  home  unwounded. 
This  vii  lory  not  only  ruined  the  power  of  Sparta  and 
its  allies,  but  also  the  hopes  ol  those  who  only  waited 
the  i;sue  of  thi«  war,  to  declare  themselves.  Antipa- 
ter  immediate  ly  sent  the  news  of  this  success  to  Alex- 
ander: but,  like  an  experienced  courtier,  he  drew  up 
the  account  of  it  in  the  most  modtst  and  circumspect 
terms;  and  such  as  were  best  adapted  to  dimmish  the 
lustre  of  a  victory  which  might  expose  him  to  envy. 
He  was  sensible  that  Alexander's  delicacy  on  the 
point  of  honour  was  so  very  great,  that  he  looked 
upon  the  glorv  which  another  person  obtained  as  a 
diminution  of  his  own.  And  indeed  he  could  not  for- 
bear,1 when  this  news  was  brought  him,  to  let  drop 
some  words  which  discovered  his  jealousy.  Antipa- 
ter  did  not  dare  to  dispose  of  any  thing  by  his  own 

Jirivate-  authority,  and  only  gave  the  Lacedaemonians 
cave  to  send  an  embassy  to  the  king,  in  order  that 
they  themselves  might  learn  their  fate  from  his  own 
mouth.  Alexander  paidoned  them,  some  of  those 
who  had  occasioned  the  revolt  excepted,  and  these 
be  punished. 

Darius's  death  did  not  hinder  Alexander  from  pur- 
suing Bessus,8  who  had  withdrawn  into  Bactriana, 
where  he  had  assumed  the  title  of  king,  by  the  name 
of  Artaxerxes.  But,  finding  at  last  that  it  would  be 
impossible  for  him  to  come  up  with  him,  he  returned 
into  Parthia;  and  resting  his  troops  some  Hays  in 
Hecatompylos,  commanded  provision*  to  be  brought 
thither  from  all  quarters. 

During  his  stay  there,  a  report  prevailed  through- 
out the  whole  army,  that  the  king,  content  with  the 
conquests  he  had  achieved,  was  preparing  to  return 
into  Macedonia.  That  very  instant  the  soldiers,  as  if 
•  signal  had  been  made  for  their  setting  out,  ran  like 
madmen  to  their  tents,  began  to  pack  up  their  bag- 
gage, load  their  waggons  with  the  utmost  despatch, 
and  £11  the  whole  camp  with  noise  and  tumult.  The 
noise  soon  reached  the  cars  of  Alexander,  when  ter- 
rified at  the  disorder,  he  summoned  the  officers  to  his 
tent,  where,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  complained, 
that  in  the  midst  of  so  glorious  a  career,  he  was  slop- 
ped on  a  sudden,  and  forced  to  return  back  into  his 
own  country, rather  like  one  who  had  been  overcome, 
than  as  a  conqueror.  The  officers  comforted  him,  by 
representing,  that  this  sudden  motion  was  a  mere 
sally,  and  a  transient  gust  of  passion,  which  would 
not  be  attended  with  any  ill  consequences;  and  assu- 
red him,  that  the  soldiers,  to  a  man,  would  obey  him, 
provided  he  himself  would  address  them  but  with 
mildness  and  tenderness.  He  promised  to  do  it. 
The  circumstance  which  had  given  occasion  to  this 
false  report,  was  his  having  disbanded  some  Grecian 
soldiers,  after  rewarding  them  in  a  very  bountiful 
manner;  so  that  the  Macedonians  imagined  they  also 
were  to  fight  no  more. 

Alexander  having  summoned  the  army,  made  the 
following  speech:  "  I  am  not  surprised,  0  soldiers,  if, 
after  the  mighty  things  we  have  hitherto  performed 
you  should  be  satiated  with  glory,  and  have  no  other 
view?  bet  ease  and  repose.  1  will  not  now  enumerate 
the  various  nations  we  have  conquered.  We  have 
subdued  more  provinces  than  others  have  cities. 
Could  I  persuade  myself,  that  our  conquests  were 
well  secured,  over  nations  who  were  so  soon  over 
cnuie,  I  would  think  as  you  do  (for  I  will  not  dissent 
ble  my  thoughts,)  and  would  make  all  the  haste  ima- 
ginable to  revisit  my  household-gods,  my  mother, 
my  sister?,  and  my  subjects,  and  enjoy  in'the  midst 
of  my  country  the  glory  I  hive  acquired  in  concert 
with  you.  But  this  glory  will  all  vanish  very  soon. 


«  AU'ianderhoMeg  Tinci  voloernt :  Antipatrum  vicisup,  ne 
lacitu*  quidem  indirnabatur.  cue  dempium  gloria:  t-xisli 
mttn*.  cum-quid  i-ps*isset  alieue.  Q.  Curt. 

»  U  Curt.  L  ri.  c.  9—4. 


if  we  do  not  put  the  last  hand  to  the  work.  Do  you 
imagine,  that  so  many  nations,  accustomed  to  other 
sovereigns,  and  who  have  no  manner  ot  agreement 
with  us  either  in  their  religion, manners,  or  language, 
were  entirely  subdued  the  moment  they  were  con- 
quered; and  that  they  will  nut  take  up  arms,  in  case 
we  return  bai  k  with  so  much  precipitation'?  What 
will  become  of  the  rest  who  still  remain  nnconquer- 
ed  ?  What!  shall  we  leave  our  victory  imperfect, 
inertly  lor  want  of  courage?  But  that  which  touch 
es  me  much  more;  shall  we  suffer  the  detestable 
crime  of  Bessus  to  go  unpunished?  Can  you  bep.r  to 
see  the  sceptre  of  Darius  transferred  to  the  sangui- 
nary hands  of  that  monster,  who,  alter  having  loaded 
him  will)  chains,  as  a  captive,  at  last  assassinated  his 
sovereign,  in  order  to  deprive  us  of  the  glory  of  sa- 
ving him?  As  for  myself,  1  shall  not  be  ea.«y  till  I  see 
that  infamous  wretch  hanging  on  a  gibbet,  there 
to  pay,  to  all  kings  and.  nations  ot  the  eaith,  the 
just  punishment  due  to  his  execrable -crime.  1  do  not 
know  whether  I  am  mistaken;  but  methinks  I  read 
his  sentence  of  death  in  your  countenances:  and  that 
the  anger  which  spaiklts  in  your  eyes,  declare*  von 
will  soon  imbrue  your  hands  in  that  traitor's  blood." 

The  soldiers  would  not  suffer  Alexander  to  pro- 
ceed; but  clapping  their  hands  they  all  cried  aloud, 
that  they  wtre  ready  to  follow  wherever  he  would 
le-ad  them.  All  the  speeches  of  this  prince  generally 
produced  this  effect.  How  desponding  soever  they 
might  be,  one  single  word  from  him  revived  their 
courage  in  an  instant,  and  inspired  them  with  that 
martial  alacrity  and  ardour,  which  appeared  always 
in  his  face.  The  king,  taking  advantage  of  this  ta 
vourable  disposition  of  the  whole  army,  crossed  Par- 
thia,  and  in  three  days  arrived  on  the  frontiers  oi 
Hyrcania,  which  submitted  to  his  arms.  He  after- 
wards submitted  the  Mardi,  the  Arii,  the  Drangas 
the  Arachosii,  and  several  other  nations,  into  which 
his  army  marched,  with  greater  speed  than  people 
generally  travel.  He  ficqutntlv  would  pur-ue  an 
enemy  for  whole  days  and  nights  together,  almost 
without  suffering  his  troops  to  take  any  rest.  By 
this  prodigious  rapidity,  he  came  unawares  i.pon  na- 
tions who  thought  him  still  at  a  great  distance,  and 
subdued  them  before  they  had  lime  to  put  thimselvei 
in  a  posture  of  defence.  Under  this  image  Daniel 
the  prophet  designated  Alexander  many  a>;es  before 
his  birth,  by  representing  him  as  a  panther,  a  leo- 
pard, anil  a  he-goat,  w  ho  rushed  forward  w  ith  so  much 
sw  iiiiu  «•.«,  tli at  his  leet  se<  med  not  to  touch  the  ground. 

JSabananes,3  oneof  Bes?us's  accomplices, who  had 
written  before  to  Alexander,  came  and  surrendered 
himself,  upon  promise  of  a  pardon,  when  he  heard 
that  he  was  arrived  at  Zadracarta,  the  capital  of  Hyr- 
cania; and,  among  other  presents,  brought  him  Ba- 
goas  the  eunuch,  who  afterwards  gained  great  influ- 
ence over  the:  mind  of  Alexander,  as  he  had  formerly 
over  that  of  Darius. 

At  the  same  time  arrived  Thalestris.  queen  of  the 
Amazons.  A  violent  desire  of  seeing  Alexander  had 
prompted  that  princess  to  leave  her  dominion:,  and 
travel  through  a  great  number  of  countries  to  gratify 
her  curiosity.  Being  come  pretty  near  his  camp,  she 
sent  word  that  a  queen  was  con.e  to  visit  him;  and 
that  she  had  a  prodigious  inclination  to  cultivate  his 
acquaintance,  and  accordingly  was  arrived  within  a 
little  distance  from  that  place.  Alexander  havint:  re- 
turned her  a  favourable  answer,  she-  commanded  her 
tiain  to  stop,  and  herself  came  forward  with  3110  wo- 
men; and  the  moment  she  prrceivtd  the  kins;-,  she 
leaped  from  her  horse,  hating  two  hmces  in  her  right 
hand.  The  dress  the  Amazons  used  to  wear,  did  not 
quite  rover  the  body;  for  their  bosom  was  uncovered 
on  the  left  side,  while  every  other  part  of  their  body 
was  bid;  except  that  their  gowns  being  tucke-d  up 
with  a  knot,  fell  down  no  farther  than  the  knee.  They 
preserved  their  left  breast  to  suckle  their  leinale  off- 
spring, but  used  to  burn  their  right,  that  they  migh* 
be  the  better  enabled  to  bend  the  bow  and  throw  the 
dart,  whence  they  were  called  Jlmatons.* 


•  Quint.  Curt,  lib  ri.  cap.  5. 

4  Tins  is  a  Greek  word,  signifying  rit^out  t 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


5G9 


Thalestris1  looked  upon  the  king  without  discover- 
Jng  the  least  sign  of  admiration,  and  surveying  him 
lUentively,  did  not  think  his  stature  answerable  to  his 
"ante;  tor  the  Barbarians  are  very  much  t-lrui  k  vvith  a 
majestic  air,  and  think  those  only  capable  of  mighty 
aciue temeiiLs,  on  whom  nature  lias  bi  stowed  bodily 
advantages.  She  urd  not  scruple  to  tell  him,  that  trie 
rhiel  molne  ol  lit  r  journey  was  to  have  posterity  bv 
him;  adding,  that  she  thought  herse  ll 'worthy  ol  giving 
heir*  lo  his  empire.  Alexander,  upon  this  request, 
«va>  obliged  lo  make  some  stay  in  this  place;  alter 
which  'Jhblestris  returned  to  her  own  kingdom,  and 
the  king  into  the  province  inhabited  by  the  Parthian*. 
This  story,  and  whatever  is  related  ol  the  Amazons,  is 
looked  upon  by  some  very  judicious  authors  as  entirely 
fabulous. 

Alexander  abandoned  himself  afterwards  wholly  to 
>iis  |v.:siu;>»,2  changing  into  pride  and  excess  the 
moderation  and  continence  for  which  lie  had  hitherto 
been  so  greatly  admired;  virtues  so  very  necessary  in 
an  exalted  station  of  life,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  series 
of  prosperities.  He  was  now  no  longer  the  same  man. 
Though  he  WHS  invincible  with  regard  to  the  dangers 
and  toils  ol  war,  he  WHS  far  otherwise  with  respect  to 
the  charms  of  ease.  The  instant  he  enjoyed  a  little 
repose,  he  abandoned  himself  to  sensuality;  and  he, 
w  horn  the  arms  ot  the  Persians  could  not  conquer,  fell 
n  victim  to  their  \ices.  Nothing  was  now  to  be  seen 
but  games,  parlies  ot  pleasure,  women, and  disorderly 
banquets,  in  which  he  used  lo  pass  whole  days  and 
nights  in  drinking.  j\ot  satisfied  with  the  bullions, 
and  the  performers  on  instrumental  music,  whom  he 
had  brought  with  him  out  of  Greece,  he  obliged  the 
captue  wuinen,  whom  he  carried  along  with  nini,  lo 
ting  songs  alter  the  manner  of  their  country.  He  hap- 
pened, among  these  women,  to  perceive  one  who  ap- 
peared in  deeper  affliction  than  the  rest,  and  who,  by 
a  modest,  and  at  the  same  time  a  dignified  confusion, 
discov  tred  a  greater  reluctance  than  the  others,  to  ap- 
pear in  public.  She  was  a  perfect  beauty,  which  was 
very  much  heightened  by  her  bashtulness,  whilst  she 
threw  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  did  all  in  her  power 
to  conceal  her  face.  The  king  soon  imagined  bv  her 
air  and  mien  that  .'lie  was  nol  of  vulgar  birth;  and  in- 
quiring of  the  lady  herself,  she  answered  that  she  was 
grand-daughter  to  Ochus,  who  not  long  before  had 
swayed  the  Persian  sceptic,  and  daughter  of  his  son; 
that  she  married  Hystaspes.who  was  related  to  Darius, 
and  general  of  a  great  army.  Alexander  being  touched 
ivith  compassion  at  the  unhappy  fate  of  a  princess  of 
the  blood  royal,  and  the  sad  condition  to  which  she 
was  reduced,  not  only  gave  her  liberty,  but  reinstated 
her  in  all  her  possessions,  and  caused  her  husband  to 
be  sought  lor,  in  order  that  she  might  be  restored  to 
him. 

This  prince  was  naturally  of  a  tender  and  humane 
disposition,  which  made  him  sensible  of  the  artliction 
of  persons  in  the  lowest  condition.  A  poor  Macedo- 
nian3 was  one  day  driving  before  him  a  mule  laden 
with  gold  for  the  king's  use:  the  beast  being  so  tired 
that  he  was  not  able  either  to  go  on  or  sustain  the 
load,  the  mule-driver  took  it  up  and  carried  it,  but 
with  great  ciniicultv ,  a  considerable  way.  Alexander, 
seeing  him  jtist  sinking  under  his  burden,  and  going 
to  throw  it  on  the  ground,  in  order  to  ease  himself, 
cried  out,  "Friend,  do  not  be  weary  yet;  trv  and 
carry  it  quite  through  to  thy  tent,  for  it  is  all  thy 
or.  n.1' 

Alexander,*  in  a  forced  march  through  a  barren 
country,  at  the  head  of  a  small  body  of  horse,  when  he 
was  pursuing  Darius,  met  some  Macedonians  who 
were  carrying  water  in  goatskins  upon  mules.  These 
Macedonians,  perceiving  their  prince  was  almost 
with  thirst  occasioned  by  the  raging  heat  (the 
sun  being  then  at  the  meridian.)  immediately  filled  a 


i  Inlerrito  vultu  rejifm  Thalestris  intuebatur,  habitum 
ejus  hauil<|ua()uam  rerum  fanm-  (lart-m  oculis  porluslran*. 
UuipfK.'  omnibus  barbaria  in  cor|mrum  maje-grate  vcnerario 
et\  ',  ma°niirum(|ue  <>|>rrurn  nun  all. is  tapace's  putanl,  quam 
quos  eximia  specie  dor.are  natura  dijjnata  eit.  Quint.  Curt, 
tb.  vi.  rap.  5. 

*  Quint.  Curt.  lib.  T!.  cip.  G. 

•  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  &J7.  4  Ibid. 
Vol.  1—72 


helnret  with  water,  and  were  running  to  present  him 
with  it.  Alexander  asking  to  whom  they  were  carry- 
ing that  water,  they  replied,  "  \Ve  were  going  to  carry 
it  to  our  children,  but  do  not  let  your  majesty  be  un- 
easy, for  il  your  life  is  but  saved,  we  shall  get  children 
enough,  in  case  we  should  lose  these."  At  these 
woros  Alexander  takes  the  helmet,  and  looking  quite 
round  him,  he  saw  all  hit  horsemen  hanging  down 
their  heads,  and,  with  eyes  fixed  earnestly  on  the 
liquor  he  held,  swallowing  it,  as  it  were,  with  their 
glances  :  upon  which  he  returned  it,  with  thanks,  to 
those  who  offered  it  him,  and  did  not  drink  so  much 
as  a  single  drop,  but  cried,  "There  is  not  enough  for 
inv  whole  company;  and  should  I  drink  alone,  rl  would 
make  the  rest  be  thirstier,  and  they  would  die  with 
laintness  and  fatigue."  The  officers,  who  were  on 
horseback  round  him,  struck  in  the  most  sensible  man- 
ner with  his  wonderful  temperance  and  magnanimity, 
entreated  him  with  shouts  to  carry  them  wherever  he 
thought  fit,  and  not  to  spare  them;  that  they  were  not 
in  the  least  tired,  nor  felt  the  least  thirst;  and  that  as 
long  as  they  should  be  commanded  by  such  a  king, 
they  could  not  think  themselves  mortal  nun. 

Such  sentiments  as  these,  which  arise  from  a  gene- 
rous and  tender  disposition,  reflect  greater  honour  on 
a  prince  than  all  his  victories  and  conquest.-.  Had 
Alexander  always  retained  them,  he  would  justly  have 
merited  the  title  of  Great ;  but  too  brilliant  and  un- 
interrupted series  of  prosperity,  which  is  a  burden  too 
heavy  lor  mortals  to  sustain,  insensibly  effaced  them 
from  his  mind,  and  made  him  forget  that  he  was  a 
man  :  for  now,  contemning  the  customs  of  his  own 
country,  as  no  longer  worthy  the  sovereign  ol  the  uni- 
verse, he  laid  aside  the  dress,  the  manners,  and  way 
of  life  of  the  Macedonian  monarchs  ;  looking  upon 
them  as  too  plain  and  simple,  and  derogatory  to  his 
grandeur.  He  even  went  so  far  as  lo  imitate  the 
pomp  of  the  Persian  kings,  in  that  very  circumstance 
in  which  they  seemed  to  equal  themselves  to  the  gods; 
1  mean,  by  requiring  those  who  bad  conquered  nations 
to  fall  prostrate  at  his  feet,  and  pay  him  a  kind  of 
homage  which  becomes  only  «)aves.  He  had  turned 
his  palace  into  a  seraglio,  filling  it  with  360  concubines 
(the  same  number  as  Darius  kept,)  and  with  bands 
of  eunuchs,  of  all  mankind  the  most  infamous.  .Not 
satisfied  with  wearing  a  Persian  robe  himself,  he  al-o 
obliged  his  general:,  his  friends,  and  ell  the  giancee* 
of  his  court,  to  put  on  the  same  dress,  winch  gave  them 
the  greatest  mortification,  not  one  of  them  however 

daring  to  speak  against -this  innovation,  or  contradict 
o.         r          D 

the  prince. 

The  veteran  soldiers,  who  had  fought  under  Philip, 
not  having  the  least  idea  of  sensuality,  inveighed  pub- 
licly against  this  prodigious  luxury,  and  the  numerous 
vices  which  the  army  had  learned  in  Susa  and  Ecba 
tana.  The  soldiers  would  frequently  complain 
"That  they  had  lost  more  by  victory  than  they  had 
gained:  that  as  the  Macedonians  had  thus  assumed 
(he  manners  and  customs  of  foreigners,  they  might 
properly  be  said  to  be  conquered :  that  therefore  ths 
only  benefit  they  should  reap  from  their  long  absence 
would  be,  to  return  back  into  their  country  in  the  habit 
of  Barbarians:  that  Alexander  was  ashamed  of,  and 
despised  them;  that  he  chose  to  resemble  the  van* 
quished  rather  than  the  victorious;  and  that  he,  who 
had  before  been  king  of  Macedonia,  was  now  become 
one  of  Darius's  lieutenants." 

The  king  was  not  ignorant  of  the  discontent  whi^h 
reigned  both  in  his  court  and  army,  and  endeavoured 
to  recover  the  esteem  and  friendship  of  both  by  his 
beneficence;  but  slavery,5  though  purchased  at  ever 
go  high  a  rate,  must  necessarily  be  odious  to  free-born 
men.  He  therefore  thought,  that  the  safest  remedy 
would  be  to  employ  them;  and  for  that  purp  -•  l<  : 
them  against  Bessus.  But  as  the  army  w  as  «o  encum- 
bered with  booty  and  a  useless  train  of  baegage,  that 
it  could  scarce  move,  he  first  caused  all  his  own  ha^- 
gKije  to  be  carried  into  a  treat  square,  and  alterwarci 
trial  of  the  army  (retaining  only  such  things  as  were  ab- 
solute I  v  necessary ;)  and  then  ordered  the  whole  to  b« 
carnecf  from  thence  in  carls  to  a  large  plain.  Kvt-ry 


•  SVd  ut  opinorTliberi*  pretium  •ertitnti*  injr&mm  en 
Q.  Curt. 

2x2 


570 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


one  was  in  great  pain  to  know  the  meaning  of  all  this; 
of*  alter  he  had  sent  away  the  horses,  he  set  fire  to 
ins  own  tilings,  and  commanded  every  one  to  follow 
his  example.  Upon  this  the  Macedonians  lighted  up 
the  fire  with  their  own  hands,  and  burned  the  rich 
spoils  they  had  purchased  with  their  blood,  and  often 
forced  out  of  the  midst  of  the  flames.  Such  a  sacrifice 
must  certainly  have  been  made  with  the  utmost  reluc- 
tance; but  the  example  the  king  set  them  silenced  all 
their  complaints,  and  they  seemed  less  affected  at  the 
loss  of  their  baggage  than  at  their  neglect  of  military 
discipline.  A  short  speech  the  king  made,  soothed 
all  their  uneasiness;  and  being  now  more  able  to  ex- 
ert themselves  hereafter,  they  set  out  with  joy,  and 
marched  towards  Bactriana.  In  this  march  they  met 
with  difficulties  which  would  have  quite  damped  any 
one  but  Alexander:  but  nothing  could  daunt  his  soul, 
or  check  his  progress;  for  he  put  the  strongest  confi- 
dence in  his  good  fortune,  which  indeed  never  forsook 
thttt  hero,  but  extricated  him  from  a  thousand  perils, 
wherein  one  would  have  naturally  supposed  both  him- 
self ami  his  army  must  have  perished. 

Being  arrived  among  the  Drangaj,'  a  danger  to 
which  he  had  not  been  accustomed,  gave  him  very 
great  uneasiness;  and  this  was,  the  report  of  a  con- 
spiracy that  was  formed  against  his  person.  One 
Dyiiinus,  a  man  of  no  figure  at  court,  was  the  con- 
triver of  this  treason;  and  the  motive  of  it  was, some 
private  disgust  which  he  had  received.  He  had  com- 
•numcated  his  design  to  a  young  man  named  Nicho- 
machus,  who  revealed  it  to  Cebalinus,  his  brother. 
The  latter  immediately  discovered  it  to  Philotas,  ear- 
nestly entreating  him  to  acquaint  the  king  with  it,  be- 
cause every  moment  was  ot  the  utmost  consequence, 
and  the  conspirators  were  to  execute  the  horrid  deed 
in  three  days.  Philotas,  after  applauding  his  fidelity, 
waited  immediately  upon  the  king,  and  discoursed  on 
a  great  variety  of  sujects,  but  without  taking  the  least 
notice  of  the  plot.  In  the  evening  Cebalinus  meeting 
him  as  he  was  coming  out,  and  asking  whether  he  had 
done  as  he  requested,  he  answered,  that  he  had  not 
found  an  opportunity  of  mentioning  it  to  his  majesty, 
and  went  away.  The  next  day  this  young  man  went 
up  to  him  as  he  was  going  into  the  palace,  and  con- 
jured him  not  to  forget  what  he  had  told  him  the  day 
before.  Philotas  replied,  that  he  would  be  sure  not  to 
forget  it;  but  however  he  did  not  perform  his  pro- 
mise. This  made  Cebalinus  suspect  him;  and  fearing 
that  in  case  the  conspiracy  should  be  discovered  by 
any  other  person,  his  silencejwould  be  interpreted  as 
criminal,  he  therefore  got  another  person  to  disclose 
it  to  Alexander.  The  prince  having  heard  the  whole 
from  Cebalinus  himself,  and  being  told  how  earnestly 
be  had  conjured  Philotas  to  acquaint  him  with  it,  first 
commanded  Dymnus  to  be  brought  before  him.  The 
latter  guessing  upon  what  account  he  was  sent  for  by 
the  king,  ran  himself  through  with  his  sword;  but  the 
guards  having  prevented  him  from  completing  the 
deed,  he  was  carried  to  the  palace.  The  king  asked 
him  why  he  thought  Philotas  more  worthy  than  he 
was  of  the  kingdom  of  Macedon  ?  but  he  was  quite 
speechless  :  so  that,  after  fetching  a  deep  sigh,  he 
turned  his  head  aside,  and  breathed  his  last. 

The  king  afterwards  sent  for  Philotas,  and  (having 
first  commanded  every  one  to  withdraw)  inquired 
whether  Cebalinus  had  reallv  urged  him  several  limes 
to  tell  him  of  a  plot  which  was  carrying  on  against 
him.  Philotas.  without  discovering  the  least  confusion 
in  his  countenance,  confessed  ingenuously  that  he 
had  ;  but  made  his  apology,  by  saying,  that  the  person 
who  had  given  him  information,  did  not  appear  to  him 
worthy  of  the  least  credit.  He  confessed,  however, 
that  Dymnus's  death  convinced  him  that  he  had  acted 
yery  imprudently,  in  concealing  so  long  a  design  ofso 
black  a  nature  :  upon  which, acknowledges  his  fault, 
be  fell  at  the  king's  feet  ;  and  embracing  them,  be- 
sought him  to  consider  his  past  life,  rather  than  the 
fault  he  had  now  committed,  which  did  not  proceed 
from  any  bad  design,  but  from  the  fear  he  was  under 

«  DioH.  I.  xvii.  p.  550,551.  Quint.  Curt.  1.  vi.  c.  7.  11.  el 
u  »ii.  o.  1,  2.  Arrmn.  1.  iii.  p.  HI,  1*2.  Tlut.  iu  Alex.  p. 
£8,693. 


of  unseasonably  alarming  the  king,  should  he  com- 
municate a  design  which  he  really  supposed  was  with- 
out foundation.  It  is  no  ta«y  matter  to  say  whetner 
Alexander  believed  what  Philotas  said,  or  only  dis- 
sembled his  anger.  But  however  this  be,  he  ga\  e  him 
his  hand  in  token  of  reconciliation  ;  and  told  him,  that 
he  was  persuaded  he  had  despised  rather  than  conctnl- 
ed  the  affair. 

Philotns  was  both  envied  and  hated  by  a  great  num- 
ber of  courtiers  ;  and  indeed  it  was  hardly  possible  il 
should  be  otherwise,  because  none  of  them. was  more 
familiar  with  the  king,  or  more  esteemed  by  hiiu.  In- 
stead of  softening  and  moderating  the  lustre  of  tlie 
distinguished  favour  he  enjoyed,  by  an  airof  mildness 
and  humanity,  and  a  prudent  modesty  of  demeanour; 
he  seemed,  on  the  contrary,  to  endeavour  only  to  ex- 
cite the  envy  of  others,  by  affecting  a  silly  pride,  which 
generally  displayed  itself  in  his  dress,  his  retinue,  his 
equipage,  and  his  table  ;  and  still  more  so,  by  the 
haughty  airs  he  assumed,  which  made  him  universally 
hated.  Parmenio,  his  father,  disgusted  at  his  super- 
cilious behaviour,  said  one  day  to  him,  "  My  son, 
make  thyselt  less.'"2  The  strongest  sense  is  couched 
under  these  words  ;  and  it  is  evident,  that  the  man 
who  uttered  them  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the 
genius  of  courts.  He  used  often  to  give  Philotas  ad- 
vice to  this  effect;  but  too  exalted  a  prosperity  is  apt 
to  make  men  both  deaf  and  blind;  and  they  cannot 
persuade  themselves  that  favour,  which  is  established 
on  so  seemingly  solid  a  foundation, can  ever  change; 
the  contrary  of  which  Philolas  found  to  his  sorrow. 

His  former  conduct,8  with  regard  to  Alexander  had 
given  the  king  just  reason  to  complain  of  him;  for  he 
used  to  take  the  liberty  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  his 
sovereign,  and  applaud  himself  in  the  most  haughty 
terms.  Opening  one  day  his  heart  to  a  woman  named 
Antigona,  with  whom  he  was  in  love,  he  began  to 
boast,  in  a  very  insolent  manner,  of  his  father's  ser- 
vices and  his  own  :  "What  would  Philip,"  said  he, 
"  have  been,  had  it  not  been  for  Parmenio  1  and  what 
would  Alexander  he,  were  it  not  for  Philotas  1  what 
would  become  of  his  pretended  divinity,  and  his  father 
Ammon,  should  we  undertake  to  expose  this  ficlion?" 
All  these  things  were  repeated  to  Alexander;  and 
Antigona  herself  made  oath,  that  such  words  had  been 
spoken.  The  king  had  nevertheless  taken  no  notice 
of  all  this,  nor  so  much  as  once  let  drop  the  least  word 
which  might  show  his  resentment  upon  that  account, 
even  when  he  was  most  intoxicated  with  liquor:  he 
had  not  so  much  as  hinted  it  to  his  friends,  not  even 
to  Hephaestion,  from  whom  he  scarce  concealed  any 
thing.  But  the  crime  Philotas  was  now  accused  of, 
recalled  to  his  memory  the  disgust  be  had  formerly 
entertained. 

Immediately  after  the  conversation  he  had  with  Phi- 
Iotas,  he  held  a  council  composed  of  his  chief  confi- 
dants. Craterus,  for  whom  Alexander  had  a  great 
esteem,  and  who  envied  Philotas  the  more  upon  that 
very  account,  looked  upon  this  as  a  very  happy  occa- 
sion for  supplanting  his  rival.  Concealing  therefore 
his  hatred  under  a  specious  pretence  of  zeal,  he  sug- 
gested to  the  king,  "  The  apprehensions  he  might 
justly  be  under,  both  from  Philotas  himself,  berau-e 
mercy  is  not  apt  to  work  any  change  on  a  heart  which 
could  be  corrupt  enough  to  entertain  so  detestable  a 
crime;  and  from  Parmenio,  his  father,  who,"  said  he, 
"  will  never  be  able  to  bear  the  thoughts  of  his  owing 
his  son's  life  to  the  king's  clemency.  Some  beneficial 
acts  are  so  great,  that  they  become  a  burden  to  those 
on  whom  they  are  conferred,  for  which  reason  they  do 
all  in  their  power  to  erase  them  from  their  memory. 
Besides,  who  can  assure  u«,  that  both  lather  and  son 
are  not  engaged  in  the  conspiracy?  When  a  prince's 
life  is  in  danger,  every  thing  is  o?  importance;  and  all 
things,  even  to  the  slightest  suspicions,  are  so  many 
proofs.  Can  we  conceive  it  possible,  that  a  favourite 
on  whom  his  sovereign  has  bestowed  the  most  shining 
marks  of  his  bent  ficence,  should  be  calm  and  undis- 
turbed, upon  his  being  told  an  affair  of  such  impor 
tance?  But  we  are  told,  that  this  design  was  com 


>  Flut.de  Furtun.  Alex.  0.9.  p  339. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


571 


municated  by  young  people,  who  deserved  very  little 
credit.  Wherefore  then  did  he  keep  then"  in  suspense 
two  davs,  as  if  lie  really  believed  what  they  told  him, 
and  still  promise  them  that  he  would  reveal  the 
tvnoic  affair  to  the  king?  Who  Hoes  not  see,  that  he 
did  this  merely  to  prevent  their  having  access  by 
mother  way  to  -his  majesty?  Sir,"  continued  he,  "  it 
is  necessary  for  your  own  sake  and  that  of  the  state, 
that  Philotas  should  be  put  to  the  torture;  in  order  to 
force  from  his  own  mouth  an  account  of  this  plot,  and 
the  several  persons  who  are  his  accomplices  in  it." 
This  being  the  opinion  of  all  the  members  of  the  coun- 
cil, the  king  acceded  to  it.  He  then  dismissed  the 
assembly,  having  first  enjoined  them  secrecy;  and 
the  better  to  conceal  his  resolution,  gave  orders  for 
the  army's  marching  the  next  day,  and  even  invited 
Philotus  to  supper  with  him. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  uight,  various  parties  of 
guards  having  been  posted  in  the  several  places  ne- 
cessary, some  entered  the  tent  of  Philotas,  who  was 
then  in  a  deep  sleep;  when,  starling  from  his  slum- 
bers, as  they  were  putting  manacles  on  his  hands,  he 
cried,  "  Alas!  my  sovereign,  the  inveteracy  of  my 
enemies  has  got  the  better  of  your  goodness."  After 
this,  they  covered  his  face,  and  brought  him  to  the 
palace  without  uttering  a  single  word.  The  next 
morning,  the  Macedonians,  according  to  an  order 
published  for  that  purpo-e,  came  thither  under  arms, 
in  number  about  6000.  It  was  a  very  ancient  custom 
for  the  army,  in  the  time  of  war,  to  take  cognizance  of 
capital  crimes;  and,  in  times  of  peace,  for  the  people 
to  do  so;  so  that  the  prince  had  no  power  on  these 
occasions,  unless  a  sanction  were  given  to  it  by  the 
consent  of  one  or  other  of  these  bodies;  and  the  king 
was  forced  to  have  recourse  to  persuasion,  before  he 
employed  his  authority.1 

First,  the  body  of  Dymnus  was  brought  out;  very 
few  then  present  knowing  either  what  he  had  done, 
or  how  he  came  by  his  death.  Afterwards  the  king 
came  into  the  assembly;  an  air  of  sorrow  appearing 
in  his  countenance,  as  well  as  in  his  whole  court, 
while  every  one  waited  with  impatience  the  issue  of 
this  gloomy  scene.  Alexander  continued  a  long  time 
with  his  eyes  cast  on  the  ground,  as  if  in  the  utmost 
dejection;  but  at  last,  having  recovered  his  spirits,  he 
made  the  following  speech :  "I  have  narrowly  escaped, 
O  soldiers,  being  torn  from  you,  by  the  treachery  of 
a  small  number  of  wretches;  but  by  the  providence 
and  mercy  of  the  gods,  I  now  again  appear  before  you 
alive:  and  I  protest  to  you,  that  nothing  encourages 
me  more  to  proceed  against  the  traitors,  than  the 
sight  of  this  assembly,  whose  welfare  is  much  dearer 
to  me  than  my  own;  for  I  desire  to  live  for  your  sakes 
only:  and  the  greatest  happiness  (should  find  in  living 
(not  to  say  the  only  one)  would  be  the  pleasure  1  should 
receive  in  having  it  in  my  power  to  reward  the  services 
of  so  many  brave  men,  to  whom  I  owe  every  thing." 
Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  cries  and  groans  of 
the  soldiers,  who  all  burst  into  tears.  "Ala*!  how 
will  you  behave,"  continued  he,  "  when  I  shall  name 
the  persons  who  formed  so  execrable  a  design?  I 
myself  cannot  think  of  it  without  shuddering.  They 
on  whom  I  have  been  most  lavish  of  mv  kindnesses: 
»n  whom  I  have  bestowed  the  greatest  marks  of  friend- 
ship: in  whom  I  had  put  my  whole  confidence,  and  in 
«hose  breasts  I  lodged  my  greatest  secrets — Parmenio 
and  Philotas."  At  these  names  the  soldiers  gazed  one 
upon  the  other,  not  daring  to  believe  their  eves  or 
*ars,  nor  to  give  credit  to  any  thin?  they  saw  or  heard. 
Thfn  jNicomachus,  Melron,  and  Cehalinus,  were  sent 
for,  who  made  the  several  depositions  of  what  they 
knew.  But  as  not  one  of  them  charged  Philotas  with 
ensuring  in  the  plot,  the  whole  assembly,  being 
seized  with  a  trouble  and  confusion  easier  conceived 
than  expressed,  continued  in  a  sad  and  gloomy  si- 
lence 

Philnta«  was  then  brought  in,  his  hands  tied  behind 
him,  and  hi*  head  covered  with  a  coarse  worn-out 
ciece  of  cloth.  How  shocking  a  sight!  Almost  de- 
prived of  his  senses,  he  did  not  dare  to  look  up  or 


>  Vhil  potoRtas  rcgum  v&lcbat,  nisi  priuo  valuinet  aue- 
toritas.     Q.  Curt. 


open  his  lips;  but  the  tears  streaming  from  his  ryes, 
he  fainted  away  in  the  arms  ol  the  man  who  held  him. 
As  the  slanders  by  wiped  of)' the  tears  in  which  his 
face  was  bathed,  recovering  his  spirits  and  his  voice 
by  degrees,  he  seemed  desirous  of  speaking.  The 
king  then  told  him,  that  he  should  be  judged  by  the 
Macedonians,  and  withdrew.  Philotas  might  have 
justified  himself  very  easily;  for  not  one  of  the  wit- 
nesses, and  those  who  had  been  put  on  the  rack,  had 
accused  him  of  being  an  accomplice  in  the  plot  Dym- 
nus, who  first  formed  it,  had  not  named  him  to  any  of 
the  conspirators;  and  had  Philotas  been  concerned 
in  it,  and  the  ring-leader,  as  was  pretended,  Dy  miuii 
would  certainly  have  named  him,  at  the  head  of  all 
the  rest,  in  order  to  engage  them  the  more  strongly. 
Had  Philotas  been  conscious  to  himself  of  guilt  in  this 
particular,  as  he  was  sensible  that  Cetjalinti-,  who 
knew  the  whole,  sought  earnestly  to  acquaint  the 
king  with  it,  was  it  probable  that  he  could  have  re- 
mained quiet  two  days  together,  without  once  endea- 
vouring either  to  despatch  Cebalinus,  or  to  put  his 
dark  design  in  execution,  which  he  might  very  easily 
have  done?  Philotas  set  these  proofs,  and  a  great 
many  more,  in  the  strongest  light;  and  did  not  omit 
to  mention  the  reasons  which  had  made  him  despise 
the  information  that  had  been  given  him,  as  groundless 
and  imaginary.  Then  directing  himself  on  a  sudden, 
to  Alexander,  as  if  he  had  been  present,  "O  king," 
says  he,  "  wheresoever  you  may  be,  (for  it  is  thought 
Alexander  heard  all  that  passed  from  behind  a  cur- 
tain) if  I  have  committed  a  fault  in  not  acquainting  you 
with  what  I  heard,  I  confessed  it  to  you,  and  you  par- 
doned me.  You  gave  me  your  royal  hand  as  a  pledge 
of  this;  and  you  did  me  the  honour  to  admit  me  at 
your  table.  If  you  believed  me,  I  am  innocent:  if  you 
pardoned  me,  I  am  cleared;  I  refer  all  this  to  your 
own  judgment.  What  new  crime  have  1  committed 
since  .'  1  was  in  a  deep  sleep  when  my  enemies  waked 
me,  and  loaded  me  with  chains.  Is  it  natural  for  a 
man,  who  is  conscious  that  he  is  guilty  of  the  most 
horrid  of  all  crimes,  to  be  thus  easy  and  undisturbed? 
The  innocence  of  my  own  conscience,  and  the  promise 
your  majesty  made  me,  gave  my  mind  this  calm.  Do 
not  let  the  envy  of  my  enemies  prevail  over  your  cle- 
mency and  justice." 

The  result  of  this  assembly  was,  that  Philotas 
should  be  put  on  the  rack.  The  persons  who  presided 
on  that  occasion  were  his  most  inveterate  enemies, 
and  they  made  him  sufferevery  kind  of  torture.  Phi- 
Iotas  at  first  discovered  the  utmost  resolution  and 
strenglh  of  mind;  the  torments  he  suffered  uot  being 
able  to  force  from  him  a  single  word,  nor  even  so 
much  as  a  sigh.  But  at  last,  conquered  by  pain, 
he  confessed  himself  to  be  guilty,  named  several  ac- 
complices, and  even  accused  his  own  father.  The 
next  day,  the  answers  of  Philotas  were  read  in  full 
assembly,  he  himself  being  present.  He  was  unani- 
mously sentenced  to  die;  immediately  after  which  he 
was  stoned,  according  to  the  custom  of  Macedonia, 
with  some  olher  of  the  conspirators. 

They  also  judged  at  the  same  time,  and  put  to  death 
Lyncestes  Alexander,  who  had  been  found  guilty  of 
conspiring  tin.-  death  of  the  king,  and  had  been  kept 
three  years  in  prison. 

The  condemnation  of  Philotas  brought  on  that  of 
Parmenio:  whether  it  were  that  Alexander  really  be- 
lieved him  guilty,  or  was  afraid  of  the  father  now  he 
had  put  the  son  to  death.  Poll  damas,  one  of  the  lords 
of  the  court,  was  appointed  to  see  the  execution  per- 
formed. He  had  been  one  of  Parmenio's  most  inti- 
mate friends,  if  we  may  give  that  name  to  rouiliers 
who  love  nothing  but  their  own  fortune.  This  was 
the  very  reason  of  his  being  nominated,  because  Par- 
menio could  not  entertain  any  suspicion  of  hi«  being 
sent  to  him  with  such  a  design.  He  therefore  set  nut 
for  Media,  where  that  general  commanded  the  army, 
and  was  minified  with  the  king's  treasure*,  which 
amounted  to  180.000  talent*,  about  27.000.000/.  ster- 
ling. Alexander  had  given  him  several  letters  for 
Cleander,  the  kind's  lieutenant  in  the  prtvince;  and 
for  the  principal  officers.  Two  were  for  Parmenio; 
one  of  them  from  Alexander,  and  the  olher  sealed  with 
1'hilotas's  seal,  as  if  »e  had  been  alive,  to  prevent  th« 


572 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


father  from  harbouring  the  least  suspicion.  Polvcla- 
mas  was  but  eleven  (lavs  on  his  journey,  and  alighted 
in  the  night-time  at  the  house  of  Cleander.  Afler 
having  taken  all  the  precautions  necessary,  the}'  went 
together  with  a  grei<t  number  of  attendants,  to  meet 
Parnienio,  who  at  this  time  was  walking  in  a  park  of 
his  own.  The  moment  Polydamas  spied  him,  though 
at  a  great  distance,  he  ran  to  embiace  him  with  an  air 
of  the  utmost  joy;  and  alter  compliments,  intermixed 
with  the  strongest  indications  of  friendship,  had  passed 
on  both  sides,  hegave  him  Alexander's  letter.  In  the 
opening  it,  he  asked  him  what  the  king  was  doing;  to 
which  1'olydamas  replied,  that  he  would  know  by  his 
majesty's  letter.  Parmenio,  alter  perusing  it,  said: 
•'The  king  is  preparing  to  march  against  the  Ara- 
chosii.  How  glorious  a  prince  is  this,  who  will  not 
sutler  himself  to  take  a  moment's  rest!  However, 
he  ought  to  be  a  little  tender  of  himself,  now  he  has 
acquired  so  much  glory."  He  afterwards  opened  the 
letter  which  was  written  in  Philutas's  name;  and,  by 
his  countenance,  seemed  pleased  with  the  contents  of 
it.  At  that  very  instant  (Meander  thrust  a  dagger  into 
his  side,  then  made  another  thrust  in  his  throat;  and 
the  rest  gave  him  several  wounds,  even  alter  he  was 
dead. 

Thus  this  great  man  ended  his  life;  a  man  illus- 
trious l>oth  in  peace  and  war;  who  had  performed 
many  glorious  actions  without  the  king,  whereas  the 
king  had  never  achieved  any  thing  conspicuous,  but  in 
concert  with  Parnienio.  He  was  a  person  of  great 
abilities,  both  in  forming  plans  and  carrying  them  into 
execution;  was  very  dear  to  the  grandees,  and  much 
more  to  the  officers  and  soldiers,  who  reposed  the 
highest  confidence  in  him;  and  looked  upon  them- 
selves as  assured  of  victory  when  be  was  at  their  head, 
so  firmly  they  relied  on  his  capacity  and  good  fortune. 
He  was  then  threescore  and  ten  y ears  ol  age;  and  had 
always  served  his  sovereign  with  inviolable  fidelity  and 
teal,  for  which  he  was  very  ill  rewarded ;  his  son  and 
himself  having  been  put  to  death,  merely  on  a  slight 
suspicion,  unsupported  by  any  real  proof,  which  ne- 
vertheless obliterated  in  a  moment  all  the  great  ser- 
vices both  had  done  their  country. 

Alexander  was  sensible '  that  such 

A.  M.  3675.  cruel  executions  might  alienate  the 
Ant  J.  C.  329.  affection*  of  the  (roops,  of  which  he 
had  a  proof,  by  the  letters  they  sent 
into  Macedonia,  which  were  intercepted  by  his  order; 
concluding,  therefore,  that  it  would  be  proper  for  him 
to  separate  from  the  rest  of  the  army  such  soldiers  as 
had  most  distinguished  themselves  by  their  murmurs 
and  complaints,  lest  their  seditious  discourses  should 
spread  the  same  spirit  of  discontent,  he  formed  a  sepa- 
rate body  of  these,  the  command  of  which  he  gave  to 
Leonidas;  this  kind  of  ignominy  being  the  only  pun- 
ishment he  inflicted  on  them.  But  they  were  so  strong- 
ly affected  with  it  that  they  endeavoured  to  wipe 
out  the  disgrace  it  brought  upon  them,  by  a  bravery, 
a  fidelity,  and  an  obedience,  which  they  observed  ever 
afterwards. 

To  prevent  the  ill  consequences  that  might  arise 
from  this  secret  discontent,  Alexander  set  out  upon 
his  march,  and  continued  to  pursue  Bessus;on  which 
occasion  he  exposed  himself  to  great  hardship?  and 
dangers.  After  having  passed  through  Diangiana, 
Arachosia,  and  th*-  country  of  the  Arimaspi,  where  all 
things  submitted  to  his  arms,  he  arrived  at  a  moun- 
tain, called  Paropamisiis  (a  part  of  Caucasus)  where 
liis  army  underwent  inexpressible  fatigues,  through 
weariness,  famine,  cold,  and  the  snows,  which  killed 
a  grtat  number  of  hi*  soldiers.  Bessns  laid  waste  all 
the  country  that  lay  between  him  and  mount  Cauca- 
»us,  in  order  that  the  want  of  provisions  end  forage 
might  deprive  Alexander  of  an  opportunity  of  pursu- 
ing him.  He  indeed  sullered  very  much,  but  nothing 
could  check  Kis  vigour.  Alter  making  hisaitnv  re- 
pose for  some  time  at  Drapsacn,  he  advanced  towards 
Aornoe  and  Baclria,  the  two  strongest  rilies  of  Bac- 
triana,  and  took  ihem  both.  At  Alexander's  ap- 
proach, about  7  or  8000  Bactrians,  who  till  then  had 

i  Arrinn  I.  hi.  p.  143.  148.  Quint.  Curt.  1.  vii.  c.  3—5. 
Diod.  1  xvii  p.  552.  554. 


adhered  very  firmly  to  Bessu_<,  ananuoned  him  to  • 
man,  and  retired  each  to  his  respective  home,  1><  ssua, 
at  the  head  of  the  small  number  of  forces  who  con 
tinued  faithful  to  him,  passed  the  river  Oxus,  burnt  all 
the  boats  he  himstll  made  use  of,  to  prevent  Alexao- 
der  from  crossing  it,  and  withdrew  to  JSaiuu  a,  a  city 
of  Sogdiana,  lull\  determined  to  raise  a  new  army 
there.  Alexander,  however, did  not  give  him  time  to 
do  this;  and  not  meeting  with  trees  or  timber  suffi- 
cient for  the  building  ol  boats  and  rafts,  he  sup  plied 
the  want  of  these  by  distributing  to  his  sokiiers  a 
great  number  of  skins  stulied  with  straw,  ard  such- 
like dry  and  light  materials;  upon  which  tin  \  placed 
themselves,  and  crossed  the  river  in  this  munBtr; 
those  w  ho  went  over  first,  drawing  up  in  battle  array, 
whilst  their  comrades  were  coming  after  tin  m.  In 
this  manner  his  whole  army  passed  over  in  six  days. 

In  the  mean  while  Spitaimnes,  who  was  liessus's 
chief  confidant,  formed  a  conspiracy  against  him,  in 
concert  with  two  more  of  his  principal  officers.  Hav- 
ing* seized  his  person,  they  put  him  in  chains,  forced 
his  diadem  from  his  head,  tore  to  pitces  the  roj  al  robe 
of  Darius  which  he  had  put  on,  and  set  him  on  horse- 
back, in  order  to  give  him  up  to  Alexander. 

That  prince  arrived  at  a  little  city  iiXiabited  by  the 
Branchidae.  These  were  the  descendants  of  a  family 
who  had  dwelt  in  Miletus,  whom  Xerxes,  at  his  re- 
turn from  Greece,  had  formerly  sent  into  Upper  Asia, 
where  he  had  settled  them  in  a  very  flourishing  condi- 
tion, in  return  for  their  having  delivered  up  to  him  th« 
treasure  of  the  temple  of  Apollo  Didymasus,  the  keep 
ers  of  which  they  were.  They  received  the  king  with 
the  highest  demonstrations  of  joy,  and  surrendered 
both  themsilves  and  their  city  to  him.  Alexander 
sent  for  such  Milesians  as  were  in  his  army,  who  pre- 
served an  hereditary  hatred  against  the  Biam  hidas, 
because  of  the  treachery  of  their  ancestors.  He  then 
left  them  the  choice,  either  of  revenging  the  injury 
they  had  formerly  done  them,  or  of  pardoning  the  in  in 
consideration  of  their  common  extraction.  The  Mi- 
lesians being  so  much  divided  in  opinion,  that  they 
could  not  agree  among  themselves,  Alexander  under- 
took the  decision  himself.  Accordingly,  the  next  day 
he  commanded  his  phalanx  to  surround  thecitv:  and 
a  signal  being  given,  tiny  were  ordered  to  plunder 
that  abode  of  traitors,  and  put  every  one  of  thtm  to 
the  sword:  which  inhuman  order  was  executed  with 
the  same  barbarity  as  it  had  been  given.  All  the  citi- 
zens, at  the  very  time  that  they  weie  going  to  pay 
homage  to  Alexander,  wi  re  murdered  in  the  streets 
and  in  their  houses;  no  manner  of  regard  being  paid 
to  their  cries  and  tears,  nor  the  least  distinction  made 
of  age  or  sex.  Thty  even  pulled  up  the  very  founda- 
tions of  the  walls,  that  not  the  least  traces  of  that 
city  might  remain.  But  of  what  crimes  were  those 
ill-fated  citizens  guilty?  Were  they  responsible  for 
those  their  fathers  had  committed  upwards  of  150 
years  before?  1  do  not  know  whether  history  fur- 
nishes another  example  of  no  brutal  and  frantic  a 
cruelty. 

A  little  after,  Bessus  was  brought  to  Alexander,not 
only  bound,  but  stark  naked.  Spitamenes  held  him 
In  a  chain,  which  went  round  his  neck;  and  it  wag 
ilifh'cult  to  say,  whether  that  object  was  more  agreea 
ble  to  the  Barbarians  or  Macedonians.  In  presenting 
him  to  the  king,  he  said:  "  I  have,  at  last,  rev«nged 
both  you  and  Darius,  my  kings  and  masters.  1  brine 
you  this  wretch,  who  assassinated  his  sovereign,  and 
who  is  now  treated  in  the  same  manner  as  heliimself 
gave  the  first  example  of.  Alas!  why  cannot  Darius 
himself  see  this  spectacle!"  Alexander,  after  having 
greatly  applaude:!  Spitamenes,  turned  about  to  Bes 
sus,  and  spoke  thus:  "Thou  surely  must  ha\  e  been 
inspired  with  the  rage  and  fury  of  a  tiger,  otherwise 
thou  wouldst  not  have  dared  to  load  a  king,  from  *  horn 
thou  hadst  received  so  many  instances  of  favoui.  witb 
chains,  and  afterwards  murder  him!  Begone  from  n\f 
sight,  thou  monster  of  cruelty  and  perfidiou«ne«s.*' 
The  king  raid  no  more,  but  sending  for  Oxatr«s,  Da 
miss  brother,  he  gave  Bessus  to  him,  in  ordt  i  thath* 
might  -nfler  all  the  ignominy  he  deserved;  suspend 
ing,  however,  his  execution,  lhat  he  might  be  judge* 
in  the  general  assembly  of  the  Persians. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


073 


g 

di 


SECTION  XI. J. — ALEXANDER,  AFTER  TAKING  A 
GREAT  MANY  CITIES  IN  KACTIUANA,  BUILDS 
ONE  NEAR  THE  RIVER  IAXARTES,  WHICH  HF 
CALLS  BY  HIS  OWN  NAME.  THE  SCYTHIANS 
ALARMED  AT  THE  BUILDING  OF  THIS  CITY,  AS 
IT  WOULD  BE  A  CHECK  UPON  THEM,  SEND  A.M 
BASSADORS  TO  THE  KING,  WHO  ADDRESS  THEM- 
SELVES TO  HIM  WITH  UNCOMMON  FREEDOM 
AFTER  HAVING  DISMISSED  THEM,  HE  PASSES 
THE  IAXARTES,  GAINS  A  SIGNAL  VICTORY  oVr.R 
THE  SCYTHIANS,  AND  BEHAVES  WITH  HUMANI- 
TY TOWARDS  THE  VANQUISHED.  HE  CHECKS 
AND  PUNISHES  THE  INSURRECTION  OF  THE 
SOGDIANS,  SENDS  BESSUS  TO  ECBATANA  TO  BE 
PUT  TO  DEATH,  AND  TAKES  THE  CITY  OF  PE- 
TRA,  WHICH  WAS  THOUGHT  IMPREGNABLE. 
ALEXANDER,1  insatiable  of  victory  and  conquest 
•till  marched  forward  in  search  of  new  nations  whom 
«e  might  subdue.  After  recruiting  his  cavalrv,  which 
had  suffered  very  much  by  their  long  and  dangerous 
marches,  he  advanced  to  the  laxartes.2 

Kol  far  from  this  river  the  Barbarians  rushing  sud 
denlv  from  their  mountains,  came  and  attacked  Alex- 
ander's forces;  and  having  carried  off  a  great  number 
of  prisoners,  retired  to  their  lurking  holes,  in  winch 
were  20,000  men,  who  fought  with  bows  and  slings. 
The  king  went  and  besieged  them,  in  person,  and 
being  one  of,  the  foremost  in  the  attack,  he  was  shot 
with  an  arrow  in  the  bone  of  his  leg,  and  the  iron  head 
stuck  in  the  wound.  The  Macedonians,  who  were 
reatly  alarmed  and  afflicted,  carried  him  off  inline- 
iattlv,  yet  not  so  secretly,  but  that  the  Barbarians 
knew  of  it;  for  they  saw  from  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain every  thing  that  was  doing  below.  The  next 
day  they  sent  ambassadors  to  the  king,  who  ordered 
them  to  be  immediately  brought  in,  when  taking  off 
the  bandage  which  covered  his  wound,  he  showed 
them  his  leg,  but  did  not  tell  them  how  much  he  had 
be.en  hurt.  They  assured  him,  that  as  soon  as  they 
heard  of  his  being  wounded,  they  were  as  much  afflict- 
ed as  the  Macedonians  could  possibly  he;  and,  that 
bad  it  been  possible  for  them  to  find  the  person  who 
had  shot  that  arrow,  they  would  have  delivered  him 
up  to  Alexander;  that  none  but  impious  wretches 
would  wage  war  against  the  gods;  in  a  word,  that  being 
vanquished  by  his  unparalleled  bravery,  they  surren- 
dered themselves  to  him  with  the  nations  who  followed 
them.  The  king,  having  engaged  his  faith  to  them, 
and  taken  back  his  prisoners,  accepted  of  their  homage. 
After  this  he  set  out  upon  his  march,  and  getting 
into  a  litter,  a  great  dispute  arose  between  the  horse 
and  fool  who  should  carry  it,  each  of  those  bodies 
pretending  that  this  honour  belonged  to  them  only: 
and  there  was  no  other  wav  of  reconciling  them,  but 
Oy  giving  orders  that  they  should  carry  it  in  turn. 

From  hence  he  got,  the  fourth  day,  to  Maracanda, 
a  very  considerable  city,  the  capital  of  Sogdiana, 
which  he  took;  and  after  leaving  a  considerable  gar- 
rison there,  he  burned  and  laid  waste  all  the  open 
country. 

Thefe  came  an  embassy  to  him  from  the  Abian 
Scythians,3  who  since  the  death  of  Cyrus  had  lived 
free  and  independent:  these  submitted  to  Alexander. 
They  were  considered  a«  the  most  equitable  of  all  the 
Barbarians;  never  making  war  but  to  defend  them- 
selves: and  the  liberty  established  among  them,  and 
which  they  no  ways  abused,  removed  all  distinction, 
and  equalled  the  meanest  among  them  with  the  great- 
est. A  love  of  poverty  and  justice  was  their  peculiar 
characteristic,  and  enabled  them  to  live  happy  to- 
gether without  wanting  either  kings  or  laws.  Alex- 
ander received  them  kindly,  and  sent  one  of  his  chief 
courtiers  to  take  a  view  of  their  country,  and  even  of 
the  Scythians  who  inhabit  beyond  the  Cimmerian 
Bospliorus. 

He  had  marked  out  a  spot  of  ground  proper  for 

»  Arrian.  I.  iii.  p.  148,  149.  et  1.  ir.  p.  150— 160.    a.  Curt. 


«nd  Arri»n  call  it  the   Tanait,   but 
The    Tanaii    lies    much    more  west- 


G — II. 

*  Quintal  Cirtiui 
they  are    mistaken. 

ward,  and  empties  it*elf  not  inlo  the  Caspian  Sea,  but  in 
(be  POII!  us  Euxinu.«,  and  is  no/r  called  tlio  Don. 

•  Abiigcytha. 


building  a  citv  on  the  river  laxartes,  in  order  to  curb 
the  nations  ne  had  already  conquered,  as  well  a.1 
thc.se  he  intended  to  subdue.  But  this  design  was 
retarded  by  the  rebellion  of  the  Sogdians,  which 
was  soon  after  followed  by  that  of  the  Bat-Irian*. 
Alexander  despatched  Spitanunes,  who  had  deliver- 
ed up  Bessus  into  his  hands,  believing  him  a  very  fit 
person  to  bring  them  back  to  th«ir  allegiance;  but 
he  himself  had  been  chiefly  instrumental  in  tiiis  in- 
surrection. The  king,  greatly  surprised  at  this  trea. 
chery,  wai  determined  to  take  vengeance  of  him  in 
the  most  signal  manner.  He  marched  in  person  to 
Cyropolis,  and  besieged  it.  This  was  the  laMrity  of 
the.  l'er>ian  empire,  and  had  been  built  by  Cyrus, 
whose  name  it  bore.  At  the  same  time  h*  sent  Cra- 
terus,  with  two  more  of  his  general  officers,  to  be- 
siege the  city  of  the  Memaceni,  to  whom  fifty  troop 
ers  were  sent,  to  desire  them  to  sue  for  Alexander' a 
clemency.  These  met  with  a  very  kind  reception  p.t 
first,  but  in  the  night-time  they  were  all  cut  to  pie- 
ces. Alexander  had  resolved  to  spare  Cyropolis, 
purely  for  the  sake  of  Cyrus;  for,  of  all  the  mon- 
arch* who  had  reigned  over  these  nations,  there  were 
none  he  admired  more  than  this  king  and  S<  mil-a- 
ims, because  they  had  surpassed  all  the  rest  in  cou- 
rage and  glorious  actions.  He  therefore  offered  verr 
advantageous  conditions  to  the  besieged,  but  they 
were  so  blindly  obstinate  as  to  reject  them,  and  tha't 
even  with  pride  and  insolence;  upon  which  he  storm- 
ed (he  city,  abandoning  the  plunder  of  it  to  his  sol- 
diers, and  razed  it  to  the  very  foundations.  From 
hence  he  went  to  the  other  city  which  Craterus  was 
besieging.  No  place  ever  made  a  more  vigorous  de- 
fence; for  Alexander  lost  his  best  soldiers  before  it, 
and  was  himself  exposed  to  very  great  danger;  a 
stone  striking  him  with  so  much  violence  on  the 
head,  that  it  deprived  him  of  his  senses.  The  whole 
army  indeed  lamented  him  as  dead;  but  this  prince, 
whom  no  danger  nor  disappointment  could  depv.  _-«s, 
pushed  on  the  siege  with  greater  vigour  than  before, 
the  instant  he  recovered,  without  staying  till  his 
wound  was  healed,  anger  adding  fresh  furl  to  his 
natural  ardour.  Having  therefore  caused  the  wall 
lo  be  sapped,  he  made  a  large  breach  in  it,  and  en- 
tered the  city,  which  he  burned  to  the  ground,  and 
nut  all  the  inhabitants  to  the  sword.  Several  other 
-ities  met  with  the  same  fate.  This  was  the  third  r«- 
jellion  of  the  Sogdians,  who  would  not  be  quirt, 
though  Alexander  had  pardoned  them  twice  before. 
They  lost  above  120,000  men  in  these  different  sieges. 
The  king  afterwards  sent  Menedemus  with  3000  loot 
and  800  norse  to  Maracanda,  whence  Spitamenes  had 
driven  the  Macedonian  garrison,  and  had  shut  himself 
up  there. 

With  regard  to  himself,  he  returned  back  and  en- 
camped on  the  laxartes,  where  he  surrounded  with 
wails  the  whole  spot  of  ground  which  his  army  had 
covered,  and  built  a  citv  on  it,  sixty  furlongs*  in  cir- 
cumference, which  he  also  called  Alexandria  ;  having 
selbre  built  several  of  that  name.  He  caused  the 
workmen  to  make  such  despatch,  that  in  less  than 
twenty  days  the  ramparts  were  raised,  and  the  houses 


built;  a 


jays  the 
nd  inde 


ed  there  was  a  great  emulation  among 


he  soldiers,  who  should  get  his  work  done  soonest, 
very  one  of  them  having  had  his  portion  allotted 
lim:  and  to  people  his  new  city,  he  ransomed  all  the 
jrisoners  he  could  meet  with,  settled  several  Macedo- 
lians  there  who  were  worn  out  in  the  service,  and 
>ermilted  many  natives  of  the  country,  at  their  own 
•equest,  to  inhabit  it. 

But  the  king  of  those  Scythians  who  live  on  the 
other  side  of  laxartes,  seeing  that  this  city,  built  on 
the  river,  was  a  kind  of  yoke  imposed  on  them,  sent  a 
:reat  body  of  soldiers  to  demolish  it,  and  to  drive  the 
Macedonians  to  a  greater  distance.  Alexander,  who 
tad  no  design  of  attacking  the  Scythians,  finding  them 
uake  several  incursions,  even  in"  his  night,  in  a  very 
nsolent  manner,  was  very  much  perplexed;  especially 
when  advice  was  brought  him  at  the  same  time,  that 
he  body  of  troops  he  had  ordered  to  Maracanda,  had 
>een  all, a  very  few  excepted.cut  to  pieces.  Such  I 


«  Three  leagues. 


574 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


number  of  obstacles  uniting  together  would  have  dis- 
couraged any  one  but  an  Alexander;  for  the  Sogdians 
had  taken  up  anus,  and  the  Bactrians  also;  his  army 
was  harassed  oy  (he  Scythians;  lie  himself  was  brought 
sc  low,  that  he  was  not  able  to  stand  upright,  to  mount 
on  horseback,  to  speak  to  his  forces,  or  give  a  single 
order.  To  increase  his  affliction,  he  found  his  army 
no  ways  inclined  to  attempt  the  passage  of  the  river 
in  ligM  of  the  enem}',  who  were  drawn  up  in  battle 
array  jn  the  other  side.  The  king  continued  in  the 
utmost  perplexity  all  night  long;  however,  his  cou- 
rage surmounted  every  difficulty.  Being  told  that  the 
auspices  were  not  propitious,  he  forced  the  soothsayer 
to  substitute  favourable  ones  in  their  stead.  At  day- 
break he  put  on  his  coat  of  mail,  and  showed  himself 
to  the  soldiers,  who  had  not  seen  him  since  the  last 
wound  he  had  received.  These  held  the  king  in  such 
high  veneration,  that  his  presence  alone  immediately 
removed  all  their  fears,  so  that  they  shed  tears  of  joy, 
and  went  unanimously  and  paid  him  their  respects; 
entreating  him  to  lead  them  against  the  enemy, against 
whom  they  before  had  refused  to  march.  They  work- 
ed so  hard  at  the  rafts  or  floats,  that  in  three  days'  time 
they  had  made  12,000;  and  also  prepared  a  great  num- 
ber of  skins  for  the  same  purpose. 

As  every  thing  was  ready  for  the  passage  of  the 
river,  several  Scythian  ambassadors  arrived,  to  the 
number  of  twenty,  according  to  the  custom  of  their 
country,  who  rode  through  the  camp,  desiring  to  speak 
wilh  the.  king.  Alexander  having  sent  for  them  into 
his  tent,  desired  them  to  sit  down.  They  gazed 
attentively  upon  him  a  long  time,  without  speaking  a 
single  word,  probably  being  surprised  (as  they  formed 
a  judgment  of  men  from  their  air  and  stature)  to  find 
that  his  did  not  answer  the  high  idea  they  entertained 
of  him  from  his  fame.  The  oldest  of  the  ambassa- 
dors addressed  him  in  a  speech,  which,  as  Quintus 
Curtius  relates  it,  is  pretty  long  ;  however,  as  it  is 
very  curious,  I  shall  present  my  readers  with  the 
greatest  part  of  it. 

"  Had  the  gods  given  thee  a  body  proportionable  to 
thy  ambition,  the  whole  universe  would  have  been  too 
little  for  thee.  With  one  hand  thou  wouldst  touch  the 
east,  and  with  the  other  the  west:  and  not  satisfied 
with  this,  thou  wouldst  follow  the  sun,  and  know 
where  he  hides  himself.  Such  as  thou  art,  thou  yet 
aspirest  after  what  it  will  be  impossible  for  thee  to  at- 
tain. Thou  crosses!  over  from  Europe  into  Asia;  arid 
ivhen  thou  shalt  have  subdued  all  the  race  of  men, 
then  thou  wilt  make  war  against  rivers,  forests,  and 
wild  beasts.  Dost  thou  not  know,  that  tall  trees  are 
many  years  a  growing,  but  may  be  torn  up  in  an 
hour's  time;  that  the  lion  serves  sometimes  for  food 
to  the  smallest  birds;  that  iron,  though  so  hard,  is 
consumed  by  rust;  in  a  word,  that  there  isnothingso 
ftrong,  which  may  not  be  destroyed  by  the  weakest 
thing'? 

"  What  have  we  to  do  with  thee1?  We  never  set 
foot  in  thy  country.  May  not  those  who  inhabit 
woods  be  allowed  to  live,  without  knowing  who  thou 
art, and  whence  thou  comest?  We  will  neither  com- 
mand over,  nor  submit  to,  any  man.  And  that  thou 
mayest  be  sensible  what  kind  of  people  the  Scythians 
are,  know  that  we  received  from  heaven,  as  a  rich  pre- 
sent, a  yoke  of  oxen,  a  plough-share,  an  arrow,  a  jave- 
lin, and  a  cup.  These  we  make  use  of,  both  with  our 
friends,  and  against  our  enemies.  To  our  friends  we 
give  corn,  which  we  procure  by  the  labour  of  our  oxen; 
with  them  we  offer  wine  to  the  gods  in  our  cup:  and 
with  regard  to  our  enemies,  we  combat  them  at  a  dis- 
tance with  our  arrows,  and  near  at  hand  with  our  jave- 
lins. It  is  with  these  we  formerly  conquered  the  most 
warlike  nations,'  subdued  the  most  powerful  kings, 
laid  waste  all  Asia,  and  opened  ourselves  a  \\a_-  into 
the  heart  of  Egypt. 

"  But  thou,  who  boastest  thy  coming  to  extiiytte 
robbers,  thou  thyself  art  the  greatest  robber  upon 


'  This  if  to  be  understood  of  the  famous  irruption  of 
the  Scythian*,  who  ad  vanned  it*  far  as  Egypt,  and  possessed 
thomxHves  of  Upper  Asia  for  twenty-eight  years.  See  the 
History  of  the  Assyrians.  I  have  not  followed  Quintus 
Curiius  littcrly  in  this  place,  the  text  being  much  embar- 


earth.  Thou  hast  plundered  all  the  nations  that  tho» 
hast  overcome,  Thou  hast  possessed  thyself  of  Lydio, 
invaded  Syria,  Persia, and  Bactriana;  thou  art  forming 
a  design  to  march  as  far  as  India,  and  thou  now 
comest  hither  to  seize  upon  our  herds  of  cattle.  The 
great  possessions  thou  hast,  only  make  ihee  covet  more 
eagerly  what  thou  hast  not.  Dost  thou  not  see  how 
long  the  Bactrians  have  checked  thy  progress?  Whilst 
thou  art  subduing  these,  the  Sogdians  revolt,  and  vic- 
tory is  to  thee  only  the  occasion  of  war. 

"Pass  but  the  laxartes,  and  thou  wilt  behold  the 
great  extent  of  our  plains.  It  will  be  in  vain  for  thee 
to  pursue  the  Scythians;  and  I  defy  thee  ever  to  over- 
take them.  Our  poverty  will  be  more  active  than  thy 
army,  laden  with  the  spoils  of  so  many  nations;  and, 
when  thou  shalt  fancy  us  at  a  great  distance,  thou 
wilt  see  us  rush  suddenly  on  thy  camp;  for  we  pur- 
sue, and  fly  from  our  enemies  with  equal  speed,  lam 
informed  that  the  Greeks  speak  jestingly  of  the  Scy- 
thiau  solitudes,  and  that  they  are  even  become  a  pro- 
verb; but  we  are  fonder  of  our  deserts,  than  of  your 
great  cities  and  fruitful  plains.  Let  me  observe  to 
thee,  that  fortune  is  slippery ;  hold  her  fast  therefore, 
for  fear  she  should  escape  thee.  Put  a  curb  to  thy 
felicity,  if  thou  desirest  to  continue  in  possession  of  it. 

"  If  thou  art  a  god,  thou  oughtest  to  do  good  to 
mortals,  and  not  to  deprive  them  of  their  possessions: 
if  thou  art  a  mere  man,  reflect  always  on  what  thou 
art.  They  whom  thou  shalt  not  molest,  will  be  thy 
true  friends;  the  strongest  friendships  being  contract- 
ed between  equals;  and  they  are  esteemed  equals, 
who  have  not  tried  their  strength  against  each  other: 
but  do  not  imagine,  that  those  whom  thou  conquerest 
can  love  thee;  for  thtre  is  no  such  thing  as  friendship 
between  a  master  and  his  .slave,  a:id  a  lorced  peace  is 
soon  followed  by  a  war. 

"  To  conclude,*  do  not  fancy  that  the  Scythians 
will  take  an  oath  in  their  concluding  an  allinnce. 
The  only  oath  among  them  is  to  keep  their  word  with- 
out swearing.  Such  cautions  as  these  do  indeed  be- 
come Greeks,  who  sign  their  treaties,  and  call  upon 
the  gods  to  witness  them;  but,  with  regard  to  us, our 
religion  consists  in  being  sincere,  and  in  keeping  the 
promises  we  have  made.  That  man  who  is  not  ashamed 
to  break  his  word  with  men,  is  not  afraid  of  deceiving 
the  gods;  and  of  what  use  could  friends  be  to  thee 
whom  thou  couldst  not  trust?  Consider  that  we  will 
guard  both  Europe  and  Asia  for  thee.  We  extend  as 
far  as  Thrace,  and  we  are  told,  that  Thrace  is  contigu- 
ous to  Macedonia.  The  river  laxartes  alone  divides 
us  from  Bactriana.  Thus  \ve  are  thy  neighbours  on 
both  sides.  Consider,  therefore,  whether  thou  wilt 
have  us  for  friends,  or  enemies." 

The  barbarian  spoke  thus;  to  whom  the  king  made 
but  a  very  short  answer:  "That  he  would  take  ad- 
vantage both  of  his  own  good  fortune,  and  of  theij 
counsel:  of  his  good  fortune,  by  still  continuing  to 
rely  upon  it;  and  of  their  counsel,  by  not  attempting 
any  thing  rashly."  Having  dismissed  the  ambassa- 
dors, his  army  embarked  on  the  rafts,  which  by  thi» 
lime  were  got  ready.  In  the  front,  he  placed  »uch  ai 
carried  bucklers,  and  made  them  kneel  clown,  the  bet- 
ter to  secure  themselves  from  the  arrows  of  the  enemy. 
Behind  these  were  those  who  worked  the  machines  for 
discharging  arrows  and  stones,  covered  on  all  sides 
with  soldiers  armed  cap-a-pie.  The  rest  who  followed 
the  engines,  had  their  shields  fixed  together  over  their 
heads,  in  form  of  a  tortoise,  by  which  they  defended 
the  sailors  who  wore  corslets.  The  like  order  and 
disposition  were  observed  in  the  other  rafts  which 
carried  the  horse. 

The  army  found  great  difficulty  in  crossing.  Every 
thing  conspired  to  intimidate  them:  the  clamour  and 
confusion  that  are  inseparable  from  such  an  enter- 
prise; the  rapidity  of  the  stream,  which  carried  »way 
every  thing  with  it;  and  the  sight  of  a  numerous 
army,  drawn  up  in  battle  array,  on  the  opposite  shore. 
However,  the  presence  of  Alexander,  who  was  ever 

•  Jurando  grntinm  Scythias  «ancire  ne  credidung  :  co- 
lendo  I'nlc'in  jurant.  Grirrorum  istn  cautiu  est,  qui  acift 
consonant,  fit  deos  iuvocant :  nos  rtlitionem  in  ipsfi  lido 
novimus.  Uui  non  revercntur  homines,  fallunt  deot 
Quint.  Curt. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


575 


the  foremost  in  encountering  dangers,  made  them  ne- 
glecl  ttitir  own  safety,  and  be  concerned  for  his  only. 
As  soon  as  the  Macedonians  began  to  draw  near  the 
ihoie,  they  who  carried  shields  rose  up  together,  when 
throwing  thtir  javelin*  with  a  steady  aim,  every  wea- 
pon di-l  execution.  When  they  perceived  that  the 
enemy,  overpowered  with  that  shower  of  darts,  began 
to  give  way,  and  draw  their  horses  back,  they  leaped 
en  the  shore  with  incredible  swii'tness,  and  animating 
one  another,  began  th«  charge  with  vigour.  In  this 
disorder,  the  troopers,  whose  horses  were  ready  bri- 
dled, rushed  upon  the  enemy,  and  quite  broke  them. 
The  king  could  not  be  heard,  by  reason  of  the 
famines*  of  his  voice,  but  the  example  he  set,  spoke 
for  him. 

And  now  nothing  was  heard  in  the  Macedonian 
army,  but  shouts  of  joy  and  victory,  whilst  they  con- 
tinued to  attack  the  Barbarians  with  the  utmost  fury. 
The  latter  not  being  able  to  stand  so  fierce  an  onset, 
fled  &i  last  as  their  horses  could  carry  them;  for  they 
consisted  of  cavalry  only.  Though  the  king  was  very 
weak,  he  nevertheless  pursued  them  briskly  a  long 
way,  till,  being  at  last  quite  spent,  he  was  obliged  to 
stop.  After  commanding  his  troops  to  pursue  them 
as  long  as  daylight  lasted,  he  withdrew  to  the  camp, 
in  order  to  repose  himself,  and  to  wait  the  return  of 
his  forces.  The  Macedonians  had  already  gone  be- 
vond  the  boundaries  of  Bacchus,  which  were  marked 
out  bv  sreat  stones  ranged  close  one  to  the  other, 
and  bv  great  trees,  the  trunks  of  which  were  covered 
with  ivv.  However,  the  heaf  of  the  pursuit  carried 
them  still  farther,  and  they  did  not  return  back  into 
the  camp  Ull  after  midnight;  having  killed  a  great 
rumber  of  the  enemy,  and  taken  many  more  prison- 
ers, with  1800  horses,  all  which  they  drove  before 
them.  On  Alexander's  side,  there  were  but  sixty 
troopers  slain,  and  about  100  foot,  with  one  thousand 
nounJed.  Alexander  sent  back  to  the  Scythians  all 
their  prisoners  without  ransom,  to  show,  that  not 
animosity,  but  a  thirst  of  glory  had  prompted  him  to 
make  war  against  so  valiant  a  nation. 

The  report  of  this  victory,  and  much  more  the  cle- 
mency  with  which  the  king  treated  the  vanquished, 
greaijy  increased  his  reputation.  The  Scythians  bad 
always  been  considered  as  invincible;  but  after  their 
defeat,  it  was  owned  that  every  nation  in  the  world 
ought  to  yield  to  the  Macedonians.  The  Sace,  who 
were  a  powerful  nation,  sent  an  embassy  to  Alexander, 
by  which  they  submitted  themselves  to  him,  and  re- 
quested his  friendship.  The  Scythians  themselves 
made  an  apology  by  their  ambassadors;  throwing  the 
whole  blame  of  what  had  happened  on  some  few  indi- 
viduals, and  declaring  that  they  were  ready  to  obey 
all  the  commands  of  the  victorious  prinre. 

Alexander,  being  so  happily  freed  from  the  care 
and  trouble  of  this  important  war,  bent  his  whole 
thoughts  on  Maracanda,  in  which  the  traitor  Spitame- 
nes  had  fortified  himself.  At  the  first  news  of  Alex- 
ander's approach,  he  had  fled  away,  and  withdrawn 
into  Bactriana.  The  king  pursued  him  thither,  but 
despairing  to  come  up  with  him,  he  returned  back  and 
plundered  Sogdiana,  which  is  watered  by  the  river 
roh  timetus. 

Among  the  Sogdians  that  were  taken  prisoners, 
there  were  thirty  young  men, all  well  shaped  and  very 
comely,  and  the  greatest  lords  of  the  country.  These 
being  told,  that  they  were  led  to  execution  by  Alex- 
ander's command,  began  to  sing  songs  of  joy,  to  leap 
and  dance,  discovering  all  the  indications  of  an  immo- 
derate jov.  The  king,  surprised  to  see  them  go  to 
death  with  so  much  gaietv,  had  them  brought  before 
him:  when  he  asked  them,  how  they  came  to  break 
into  such  transports  of  joy,  when  they  saw  death  be- 
fore their  eyes?  they  answered,  that  they  should 
have  been  afflicted,  had  any  other  person  but  himself 
put  them  to  death;  but  as  they  would  be  restored  to 
their  ancestors  by  the  command  of  so  great  a  monarch, 
who  had  vanquished  all  nations,  they  thought  them- 
selves happy  m  a  death  so  glorious,  that  the  bravest 
men  would  wish  to  die  the  same.  Alexander,  admir- 
ing their  magnanimity,  asked  whether  they  would  de- 
lire  to  be  pardoned,  upon  condition  that  they  should 
be  no  longer  his  enemies?  Tbej  answered,  he  might 


be  assured  they  had  never  been  his  enemies;  but  that, 
as  he  had  attacked  them,  they  had  defended  them- 
selves; and  that,  had  they  been  applied  to  in  a  gentle 
manner,  and  not  attacked  by  force  and  violence,  they 
would  have  vied  with  him  in  politeness  and  genero- 
silv.  The  king  asked  them  farther,  what  pledges 
they  would  give  him  of  their  faith  and  sincerity  .' 
"  ISo  other,"  answered  they,  "but  the  same  life  we 
receive  from  your  goodness,  and  which  we  shall  al- 
ways be  ready  to  give  back,  whenever  you  shall  re- 
quire it."  And,  indeed,  they  were  as  good  as  their 
word.  Four  of  them,  whom  he  took  into  his  body 
guard,  endeavoured  to  rival  the  Macedonians  in  leal 
and  fidelity. 

The  king,  after  having  left  a  small  number  of  forces 
in  Sogdiana,  marched  to  Bactria,  where,  having  as- 
sembled all  his  generals,  he  commanded  Bessus  to  be 
brought  before  them;  when,  after  reproaching  him  for 
his  treachery,  and  causing  his  nose  and  ears  to  be  cut 
off,  he.  sent  him  to  Kchatana,  there  to  sutler  the  most 
extreme  torture,  under  the  direction  of  Dariuj's  mo- 
ther. Plutarch  has  left  us  an  account  of  this  execu- 
tion. Four  trees  were  bent,  by  main  force,  one  to- 
wards the  other;  and  to  each  of  these  trees,  one  of 
the  limbs  of  this  traitor's  body  was  fastened.  After- 
wards, these  trees  being  suffered  to  return  to  their 
natural  position,  they  ilew  back  with  so  much  vio- 
lence, that  each  tore  away  the  limb  that  was  fixed  to 
it,  and  so  quartered  him.  The  same  punishment  is 
at  this  day  inflicted  on  pei sons  convicted  of  high  trea- 
son, who  are  torn  to  pieces  by  four  horses. 

Alexander  received  at  this  time,  both  from  Mace- 
donia and  Greece,  a  large  number  of  recruits,  amount- 
ing to  upwards  of  16,000  men.  By  this  considerable 
reinforcement,  he  was  enabled  to  subdue  all  those  who 
had  rebelled :  and,  to  curb  them  for  the  future,  he  built 
several  fortresses  in  Margiana. 

All  things  were  now  restored  to 
a  profound  tranquillity.    There  re-  A.  M.  3676. 

mained  but  one  strong  hold  called  Ant.  J.  C.  328. 
Petra  Oxiana,  or  the  rock  of  Oxus, 
which  was  defended  by  Arimazes.a  native  of  Sogdiana, 
with  30,000  soldiers  under  his  command, and  ammuni- 
tion and  provisions  for  two  years.  This  rock,  which 
was  very  high  and  craggy  on  all  sides,  was  accessible 
only  by  a  single  path  that  was  cut  in  it.  The  king,  after 
viewing  its  works,  was  a  long  time  in  suspense  whe- 
ther he  should  besiege  it;  but,  as  it  was  his  character 
to  aim  at  the  marvellous  in  all  things,  and  to  attempt 
impossibilities,  he  resolved  to  try,  if  he  could  not  over- 
come, on  this  occasion,  nature  itself,  which  seemed  to 
have  fortified  this  rock  in  such  a  manner  as  had  ren- 
dered it  absolutely  impregnable.  However,  before  he 
formed  the  siege,  he  summoned  those  Barbarians, 
but  in  mild  term?,  to  submit  to  him.  Arimazes  re- 
ceived this  offer  in  a  very  haughty  manner;  and  after 
using  several  insulting  expressions,  asked,  "  whether 
Alexander,  who  was  able  to  do  all  things,  could  fly 
also;  and  whether  nature  had,  on  a  sudden, given  him 
wings?" 

Alexander  was  highly  exasperated  at  this  insolent 
answer.  He  therefore  gave  orders  for  selecting,  from 
among  the  mountaineers  who  were  in  his  army,  300  of 
the  most  active  and  dexterous.  These  being  brought 
to  him,  he  addressed  them  thus:  ••  It  was  in  vour 
country,  braveyoung  men,  that  I  stormed  such  places 
as  were  thought  impregnable;  that  I  made  my  way 
over  mountains  covered  with  eternal  snows:  crossed 
rivers,  and  broke  through  the  passes  of  Cilicia.  Thii 
rock,  which  you  see,  has  but  one  outlet,  which  aloM* 
is  defended  by  the  Barbarians,  who  neglect  e\  err  other 
part.  There  is  no  watch  nor  sentinel,  except  on  that 
side  which  faces  our  camp.  If  you  search  very  nar 
rowly,  yon  certainly  will  meet  with  some  path  that 
leads  to  the  top  of  the  rock.  Nothing  has  been  made 
so  inaccessible  by  nature,  as  not  to  be  surmounted  by 
valour;  and  it  was  only  by  our  attempting,  what  no 
one  before  had  hopes  of  e'ffecting,  that  we  have  pos- 
sessed ourselves  of  Asia.  Get  up  to  the  summit,  and 
when  you  shall  have  made  yourselves  masters  of  it, 
set  up  a  white  standard  there  as  a  signal;  and  be  as- 
sured, that  I'then  will  certainly  disengage  you  from 
the  enemy,  and  draw  them  upon  myself,  by  making  • 


570 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


F 
li 


Diversion."  The  king  accompanied  this  order  with 
the  most  splendid  promises;  but  the  pleasing  him, 
was  considered  by  then)  as  the  greatest  of  all  rewards. 
Kim!  therefore  with  the  most  noble  ardour,  and  fan- 
cying ihey  had  already  reached  the  summit,  they  set 
out,  alter  having  provided  themselves  with  wedges  to 
drive  into  the  stones,  with  cramp-irons,  and  thick 
ropes. 

The  king  went  round  the  mountain  with  them,  and 
commanded  them  to  begin  their  march  '  at  the  second 
watch  of  the  night,  by  that  part  which  should  seem  to 
them  of  easiest  access;  beseeching  the  gods  to  guide 
their 'steps.  They  took  provisions  for  two  days;  and 
being  armed  with  swords  and  javelins  only,  they  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  mountain,  walking  some  time  on 
loot;  afterwards,  when  it  was  necessary  for  them  to 
climb,  some  clung  to  the  stones  which  projected  for- 
wards, and  by  that  means  raised  themselves;  others 
thrust  their  cramp-irons  into  the  snow  that  was  frozen, 
to  keep  themselves  from  falling  where  the  way  was 
slippery;  while  others,  driving  in  their  wedges  with 
jreat  strength,  made  them  serve  as  so  many  scaling- 
adders.  The}'  spent  the  whole  day  in  this  manner, 
hanging  against  the  rock,  and  exposed  to  numerous 
clangers  and  difficulties,  being  obliged  to  struggle  at 
the  same  time  with  snow,  cold,  and  wind.  Neverthe- 
less, the  hardest  (ask  was  yet  to  come;  and  the  far- 
ther they  advanced,  the  higher  the  rock  seemed  to 
rise.  But  that  which  terrified  them  most  was  the  sad 
spectacle  of  some  of  their  comrades  falling  down  pre- 
cipices, whose  unhappy  fate  was  a  warning  to  them 
of  what  they  themselves  might  expect.  Notwith- 
standing this,  they  still  advanced  forward,  and  ex- 
erted themselves  so  vigorously,  that,  in  spite  of  all 
these  difficulties,  they  at  last  got  to  th«  top  of  the 
rock.  But  they  were  all  inexpressibly  weary,  and 
many  of  them  even  lost  the  use  of  some  of  their  limbs. 
Night  and  drowsiness  came  upon  them  at  the  same 
time,  so  that  dispersing  themselves  in  such  parts  of 
the  rock  as  were  free  from  snows,  they  lay  down  in 
them,  and  slept  till  day-break.  At  last  waking  from 
a  deep  sleep,  and  looking  on  all  sides  to  discover  the 
place  where  so  many  people  could  lie  hid,  they  saw 
smoke  below  them,  which  showed  them  the  haunt  of 
the  enemy.  They  then  put  up  the  signal,  as  had 
been  agreed;  and  their  whole  company  being  drawn 
up,  thirty-two  were  found  wanting,  who  bad  lost  their 
lives  in  the  ascent. 

In  the  mean  time  the  king, equally  fired  with  a  de- 
tire  of  storming  the  fortress,  and  struck  with  the  visible 
dangers  to  which  those  men  were  exposed,  continued 
on  foot  the  whole  day,  gazing  upon  the  rock,  and  did 
not  retire  to  rest  till  dark  night.  The  next  morning, 
by  peep  of  day,  he  was  the  first  who  perceived  the 
signal.  Nevertheless  he  was  still  in  doubt  whether 
he  might  trust  his  eyes,  because  of  the  false  splendour 
which  takes  place  at  day-break;  but  the  lighnncreas- 
ing,  he  was  sure  of  what  he  saw.  Sending  therefore 
for  Cophes,  who  before,  by  his  command,  had  sounded 
the  Barbarians,  he  despatched  him  a  second  time,  to 
exhort  them  to  think  better  of  the  matter;  and  in  case 
they  should  still  depend  upon  the  strength  of  the  place, 
he  then  was  ordered  to  show  them  the  band  of  men 
behind  their  backs,  who  were  got  to  the  summit  of 
the  rock.  Cophes  employed  all  the  arguments  possi- 
ble, to  engage  Aritnazes  to  capitulate;  representing 
to  him,  that  he  would  gain  the  king's  favour,  in  case 
he  did  not  interrupt  the  great  designs  he  meditated, 
hy  obliging  him  to  make  some  farther  stay  before  that 
rock.  Arimazes  gent  a  haughtier  and  more  insolent 
answer  than  before,  and  commanded  him  to  retire. 
Then  Cophes  taking  him  by  the  hand,  desired  he 
would  come  out  of  the  cave  witn  him,  which  the  Bar- 
barian doing,  he  showed  him  the  Macedonians  posted 
over  his  head,  and  said  in  an  insulting  tone  of  voice, 
"  You  see  that  Alexander's  soldiers  have  wings."  In 
(he  mean  time  the  trumpets  were  heard  to  sound  in 
every  part  of  the  Macedonian  camp,  and  the  whole 
army  shouted  aloud,  and  cried,  Victory  !  These  thing?, 
though  of  little  consequence  in  themselves,  did  never- 
theless, as  often  happens,  throw  the  Barbarians  into  so 


i  About  nine  or  ten  o'clock. 


great  a  consternation,  that  without  once  reflecting  how 
lew  were  got  to  the  summit,  they  thought  themselves 
lost.  Upon  this,  Cophes  was  recalled,  and  thirtj  ^f 
the  chiefs  among  the  Barbarians  were  sent  back  with 
him,  who  agreed  to  surrender  up  the  place,  upon  con- 
dition that  their  lives  might  be  snared.  ']  i,-  king, 
notwithstanding  the  strong  opposition  ne  might  meet 
with,  was  however  so  exasperated  at  the  haughtiness 
of  Arimazes,  that  he  refused  to  grant  them  an\  Ui  IDS 
of  capitulation.  A  blind  and  rash  confidence  in  his 
own  good  fortune,  which  had  never  failed  him,  made 
him  insensible  to  every  danger.  Arimazes,  on  the 
other  side,  blinded  by  fear,  and  concluding  himself 
absolutely  lost,  came  down  with  his  relations  and  the 
principal  nobility  of  the  country  into  Alexander's 
camp.  But  this  prince,  who  was  not  master  of  his 
anger,  forgetting  what  the  faith  of  treaties  and  hu- 
manity required  on  this  occasion,  caused  them  all  to 
be  scourged  with  rods,  and  afterwards  be  fixed  to 
crosses,  at  the  foot  of  the.  rock.  The  multitude  of 
peopje  who  surrendered,  with  all  the  booty,  Here 
given  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities  which  had  been 
newly  founded  in  those  parts,  and  Artabazns  was 
left  governor  of  the  rock  and  the  whole  province 
round  it. 

SECTION  XIV.— THE  DEATH  OF  CLITUS.  SEVE- 
RAL EXPEDITIONS  OF  ALEXANDER.  HE  ENIJEA- 
VOURS  TO  PROCURE  WORSHIP  TO  BE  PAID  TO 
HIMSELF,  AFTER  THE  MANNER  OF  THE  PER- 
SIANS. DISCONTENTS  ARISE  AMuNG  THE  .MACE- 
DONIANS. DEATH  OF  CALLISTHENES  THE  PHILO- 
SOPHER. . 

ALEXANDER3  having  subdued  the  Massagetne  and 
the  Daha?,  entered  Bazaria.  In  this  province  are  a 
great  number  of  large  parks  stocked  with  deer.  Here 
the  king  took  the  diversion  of  hunting,  in  which  he 
was  exposed  to  very  great  peril;  for  a  lion  of  an  enor- 
mous size  advanced  directly  to  him,  but  he  killed  hii-i 
with  a  single  thrust.  Although  Alexander  came  off 
victorious  on  this  occasion,  yet  the  Macedonian; 
alarmed  at  the  danger  he  had  run,  anrl  the  whole 
army  in  his  person,  gave  orders,  pursuant  to  the  cus- 
tom of  their  country,  that  the  king  should  go  no  more 
a-hunling  on  foot,  without  being  attended  by  some  ol 
his  courtiers  and  officers.  They  were  sensible,  that  i 
king  is  not  born  for  his  own  sake,  but  for  that  of  hi. 
subjects;  that  he  ought  to  be  careful  of  his  own  per 
son  for  their  sakes,  and  reserve  his  courage  for  othei 
dangers;  and  that  the  being  famous  for  killing  btasts 
(a  reputation  unworthy  of  a  great  prince)  ought  no' 
to  be  purchased  so  dear. 

From  hence  he  returned  to  Maracanda,  where  he 
quelled  some  tumults  which  had  broken  out  in  that 
country.  Artabazus  requesting  to  be  discharged  from 
thegovernment  of  that  province,  by  reason  ol  lii*  great 
age,  he  appointed  Clitus  his  successor.  He  was  an 
old  officer,  who  had  fought  under  Philip,  and  signali- 
zed himself  on  manv  occasions.  It  was  he  who  at  the 
battle  of  the  Graiiicus,  as  Alexander  was  fighting 
bareheaded,  and  Rosaces  had  his  arm  raised,  in  ordef 
to  strike  him  behind,  covered  the  king  with  his  shield, 
and  cut  off  the  Barbarian's  hand.  Hellanice,  hi*  >-i-ter 
had  nursed  Alexander;  and  he  loved  her  with  a» 
much  tenderness  as  if  she  had  been  his  own  mother. 
As  the  king,  from  these  several  considerations,  had 
very  great  respect  for  Clitus,  he  intrusted  him  with 
the  government  of  one  of  the  most  important  provinces 
of  his  empire,  and  ordered  him  to  set  out  the  next 
day. 

Before  his  departure,  Clitus  was  invited  in  the  eve- 
ning to  an  entertainment,  in  which  the  king.3  alter 
drinking  immoderately,  began  to  cflehrate  his  own 
exploits;  and  was  so  lavish  in  his  praises  of  himself, 
that  he  even  shocked  those  very  persons  who  knew 
that  he  spoke  truth.  However,  the  oldest  men  in  the 
company  held  their  peace,  till  beginning  to  depreciate 
the  warlike  acts  of  Philip,  he  boasted,  "  That  the  fa 


«  Quint.  Curt.  I.  viii.  c.  1—*.  Arrion.  1.  iv.  p.  101—171 
I'lut,  in  Alex,  p  f>!»3— KM.  Justin.  I.  xii.  c.  6,  7. 

*  In  quo  rex,  rum  multo  inraluissct  mom,  immodieus  M 
timator  sui,  oelebrnre  qute  gesserat  ro?pit :  gravi?  eiiam  eo 
rum  auribus,  qui  scnliebant  vera  ir.cmorari.  Q.  Curt 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


577 


roous  victory  of  Chaeronea  was  won  by  his  means;  ' 
and  that  the  glory  of  that  celebrated  day  had  been 
torn  from  him  by  the  malice  and  jealousy  ol  his  father: 
th«t  in  tlie  insurrection  '  which  broke  out  between  the 
Macedonians  and  mercenary  Greeks,  Philip,  fainting  ; 
from  the  wounds  he  had  received  in  that  tumult,  had 
laid  himself  on  the  ground;  and  could  not  think  of  a 
better  method  to  save  himself,  than  by  lying;  along  as 
dead  :  that  on  this  occasion  he  had  covered  him  with  his 
•hield  Hint  killed  with  his  own  hands  those  who  at- 
tempted to  fail  upon  him;  but  that  his  father  could 
never  prevail  upon  himself  to  confess  this  circum- 
itance  ingenuously,  being  vexed  that  he  owed  his  life 
io  his  own  son:  that  in  the  war  against  the  Illyrians, 
he  alone  had  done  every  thing,  Philip  having  had  no 
manner  of  share  in  it;  and  hearing  of  the  defeat  of 
the  enemy,  no  otherwise  than  by  the  Utters  he  sent 
him:  that  the  persons  worthy  of  praise,  were  not  such 
M  initiated  themselves  in  the  mysteries*  of  the  Sa- 
nothracians,  when  they  ought  to  have  laid  waste  all 
fVsis.'.  with  fire  and  sword,  but  those  who  had  achiev- 
ed such  mighty  exploits  as  surpassed  all  belief." 

This  and  similar  discourse  was  very  pleasing  to 
Ihe  young  men,  hut  highly  offensive  to  those  ad- 
fanced  in  years;  especially  for  Philip's  sake,  under 
whom  they  had  fought  many  years.  Clilus,  who  also 
was  Hushed  with  wine,  turning  about  to  those  who 
(at  !)«•!. iw  him  at  table,  quoted  to  them  a  passage 
from  Euripide's3  but  in  such  a  manner  that  the  king 
eould  only  hear  his  vo'ce,  and  not  the  words  distinctly. 
The  sense  of  this  pnssage  was,  "  That  the  Greeks 
had  done  very  wrong  in  ordaining,  that  in  the  inscrip- 
tions engraved  oi>  '.rophies,  the  names  of  kings  only 
ihoulJ  he  mentioned ;  *  because,  by  these  means, 
brave  men  w«.re  robbed  of  the  glory  they  had  pur- 
chased with  th'.-ir  blood."  The  king,  suspecting  Cli- 
tus  had  let  drop  some  disobliging  expressions,  asked 
those  who  sat  nearest  him,  what  he  had  said?  As  no 
otie  answered,  Clitus,  raising  his  voice  by  degrees, 
be^an  to  relate  the  actions  of  Philip,  and  his  wars 
in  Greece,  preferring  them  to  whatever  was  doing  at 
that  time;  which  created  a  great  dispute  between  the 
jroung  and  old  men.  Whatever  vexiition  the  king 
mir,hl  inwardly  feel,  he  nevertheless  stifled  his  resent- 
ment, and  seemed  to  listen  very  patiently  to  all  Clitus 
s|>:>!<  •  to  his  prejudice.  It  is  probable  he  would  have 
quite  suppressed  hi*  passion,  had  Clitus  stopped  there; 
but  the  hitter,  growing  more  and  more  insolent,  as  if 
determined  to  exaipernle  and  insult  the  king,  went 
»uch  lengths,  as  openly  to  defend  Parmenio;  and  to 
ussert,  that  the  destroying  of  Thebes  was  but  trifling 
in  comparison  of  the  victory  which  Philip  had  gained 
over  the  Athenians;  and  that  the  old  Macedonians, 
though  sometimes  unsuccessful,  were  greatly  supe- 
rior to  those  who  were  so  rash  as  to  despise  them. 

Alexander  telling  him,  that  in  giving  cowardice  the 
name  of  ill  success,  he  was  pleading  his  own  cause; 
Clitus  rises  up,  with  his  eyes  sparkling  with  wine  and 
anger:  "  It  is  nevertheless  this  hand,"  said  he  to  him, 
extending  it  at  the  same  time,"  that  saved  your  life 
at  the  battle  of  the  Granicus.  It  is  the  blood  and 
wounds  of  these  very  Macedonians,  who  are  accused 
of  cowardice,  that  raised  you  to  this  grandeur.  Hut 
the  tragical  end  of  Parmenio  shows,  what  reward  they 
and  myself  may  expect  for  all  our  services."  This 
last  reproach  stung  Alexander:  however  he  still  re- 
strained his  passion,  and  only  commanded  him  to  leave 
the  table.  "  He  is  in  the  right,"  says  Clitus,  as  he 
rose  up,  "  not  to  hear  freeborn  men  at  his  table,  who 
can  only  tell  him  truth.  He  will  do  well  to  pass  his 
life  among  Barbarians  and  slaves,  who  will  be  proud 
to  p;iv  their  adoration  Io  his  Persian  girdle  and  his 
white  robe."  The  king,  now  no  longer  able  to  sup- 
press his  rage,  snatched  a  JHTelin  from  one  of  his 
guards,  and  would  have  killed  Clitus  on  the  spot,  had 


>  Tliis  sedition  in  not  mentioned  in  any  other  place. 

•  It  wa«  usual  for  general*,  before  they  i«t  out  on  their 
expedition*,  to   r.iuxe    themselves   In  be  initiated   in   lhe*a 
•  Tileries,  and  ofli-r  sacrifices  to  the  g»dx  who  prefidedorer 
them.     Possibly  Philip,  by  observing  thii  ceremony,  had  d«- 
fcyed  gome  enterprise. 

•  In  hii  Andromache. 

«  Alienoenim  (anguine  partam  jloriam  intereipi.  Q,  Curt, 
Vol.  1-78 


not  the  courtiers  withheld  hit  arm,  and  Clitus  bee* 
forced,  but  with  great  difficulty,  out  of  Ihe  hull.  How- 
ever, he  returned  into  it  immediately  by  another  door, 
singing,  with  on  air  of  insolence,  verses  reflecting 
highly  on  the  prince:  who  seeing  the  general  near 
him,  struck  him  with  his  javelin,  and  laid  him  dead 
at  his  feet,  crying  out  at  the  same  time,  "Go  now  to 
Philip,  to  Parmenio,  and  to  Attalus." 

The  king's  anger  being  in  a  manner  extinguished 
on  a  sudden  in  the  blood  of  Clitus,  his  crime  d  ispla\  ed 
itself  to  him  in  the  blackest  and  most  dreadful  light. 
He  had  murdered  a  man,  who  indeed  had  abused  his 
patience,  but  who  till  then  had  always  served  him 
with  the  utmost  zeal  and  fidelity,  and  saved  his  life, 
though  he  was  ashamed  to  own  it.  He  had  that  in- 
stant performed  the  vile  office  of  tin  executioner,  in 
punishing,  by  a  horrid  murder,  the  uHering  of  some 
indiscreet  words,  which  might  be  imputed  to  the  fumes 
of  wine.  With  what  face  could  he  appear  before  the 
sister  of  Clitus,  his  nurse,  mid  offer  her  a  hand  im- 
brued in  her  brother's  blood  ?  No  longer  able  to  sui»- 
port  these  melancholy  reflections,  he  threw  himself 
on  his  friend's  body,  forced  out  thejnvelin,  and  would 
have  despatched  himself  with  it,  had  not  the  guards 
who  rushed  in  upon  him,  laid  hold  of  his  hands,  and 
forcibly  carried  him  into  his  own  apartment. 

He  passed  that  night  and  the  next  dny  in  tears. 
After  that  groans  and  lamentations  had  quite  wasted 
his  spirits,  he  continued  speechless,  stretched  on  the 
ground,  and  only  venting  deep  sighs.  Hut  his  friends, 
fearing  this  silence  would  be  fatal,  forced  themselves 
into  his  chamber.  The  king  took  very  little  notice  of 
the  efforts  that  were  employed  to  comfort  him;  but 
Aristandtr,  the  soothsayer,  putting  him  in  mind  of  a 
dream,  in  which  he  had  imagined  he  gaw  Clitus, 
clothed  in  a  black  robe,  and  seated  at  table;  and  de- 
claring, that  all  which  had  then  happened,  was  ap- 
pointed by  the  eternal  decree  of  fate,  and  consequently 
unavoidable,  Alexander  appeared  a  little  easier  in  his 
mind.  He  ivxt  was  addressed  by  two  philosophers, 
Callisthenes  and  Anaxarchus.  The  former  went  up 
to  him  with  an  air  of  humanity  and  tenderness,  and 
endeavoured  to  suppress  his  grief,  by  agreeably  insin- 
uating himself,  and  endeavoured  to  make  him  recall 
bis  reason,  by  sound  reflections  drawn  from  the  very 
essence  of  philosophy,  and  by  carefully  shunning  all 
such  expressions  as  might  renew  Ins  affliction,  and 
fret  a  wound,  which,  as  it  was  still  bleeding,  required 
to  be  touched  with  the  gentlest  hand.  But  Anaxar- 
chus. was  not  so  considerate;  for  the  moment  he  en- 
tered, he  cried  aloud,  "  What!  is  this  Alexander,  on 
whom  the  eyes  of  the  world  are  fixed?  Behold  him 
here  extended  on  the  floor,  shedding  floods  of  tears. 
like  the  meanest  slave!  Does  not  he  know,  that  he 
himself  is  a  supreme  law  to  his  subjects;  that  he  con- 
quered merely  to  raise  himself  to  the  exalted  dignity 
of  lord  and  sovereign,  and  not  to  subject  himself  to* 
vain  opinion?"  The  king  wag  determined  to  starve 
himself;  so  that  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that 
his  friends  prevailed  with  him  to  take  a  little  suste- 
nance. The  Macedonians  declared  by  a  decree,  lhat 
Clitus  had  been  justly  killed;  to  which  decree  Anax- 
archus the  philosopher  had  given  occasion,  by  asserting 
that  the  will  of  princes  is  the  supreme  law  of  the  state. 
Alas!  how  weak  are  all  such  reflections  against  the 
cries  of  a  justly  alarmed  conscience,  which  can  never 
be  quieted  either  by  flattery  or  false  arguments! 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Clitus  had  committed  a 
great  and  inexcusable  fault,  it  was  indeed  his  duty, 
not  to  join  in  discourses  calculated  to  sully  the  glory 
of  Philip  his  benefactor;  but  to  show  his  dislike  of 
what  was  said,  by  a  mournful  but  modest  silence.  He 
possibly  might  have  been  allowed  to  have  given  his 
testimony  to  the  merits  of  the  late  monarch,  provided 
he  had  expressed  himself  with  prudence  and  modera- 
tion. Had  such  moderation  been  unsuccessful,  he 
might  justly  have  merited  pity,  and  would  not  have 
been  criminal.  But  by  breaking  into  injurious  and 
shocking  reproaches,  he  quite  forgot  the  veneration 
due  to  the  sacred  character  of  kings:  with  regard  to 
whom,  how  unjustly  soever  they  may  act,  not  onl/ 
every  contemptuous  and  insulting  expression  is  forbid, 
but  every  disrespectful  and  unguarded  word;  they 


578 


HISTOR/  OF  ALEXANDER. 


being  toward*  their  subjects  the  representatives  of 
God' himself. 

It  must  nevertheless  be  confessed,  that  the  circum- 
stance of  the  banquet  extenuates  very  much,  or 
throws,  in  some  measure,  a  veil  over  Clitos'l  fault. 
When  a  piince  invites  a  subject  to  his  table;  when 
he  makes  him  the  companion  of  a  debauch,  and  in 
person  excites  him  to  drink  immoderately;  a  king'  on 
*uch  an  occasion,  seems  to  forget  hig  dignity,  and  to 
permit  his  guests  to  forget  it  itlso;  he  gives  a  sanc- 
tion, as  it  were,  to  the  liberties,  familiarities,  and  sud- 
den flights,  which  wine  commonly  inspires:  and 
should  ne  be  displeased  with  a  subject  for  equalling 
himself  with  him,  he  ought  to  blame  himself,  for  hav- 
ing first  raised  a  subject  so  high.  A  fault  committed 
under  these  circumstances,  is  nevertheless  a  fault; 
but  then  it  does  not  deserve  to  be  expiated  by  the 
blood  of  the  offender. 

A  certain  author  compares  anger,1  when  united 
with  power,  to  thunder;  and,  indeed,  what  havoc  does 
it  not  then  make?  But  how  dreadful  must  it  be,  when 
joined  with  drunkenness!  We  see  this  in  Alexan- 
der. How  unhappy  was  that  prince,  not  to  have  en- 
deavoured to  subdue  those  two  vices  in  his  youth;  2 
but  even  to  have  been  confirmed  in  them,  from  the 
example  of  one  of  his  tutors?  For  it  is  asserted,  that 
both  were  the  consequences  of  his  education  But 
what  can  be  meaner,  or  more  unworthy  a  king,  than 
drinking  to  excess?  What  can  be  more  fatal  or 
bloody,  than  the  transports  of  anger?  Alexander,* 
who  had  overcome  so  many  nations,  was  himself  con- 
quered by  those  two  vices,  which  throw  a  shade  over 
Uie  glory  of  his  brightest  actions.  The  reason  of  this, 
gays  Seneca,  is,  he  endeavoured  more  to  vanquish 
others,  than  to  subdue  himself;  not  knowing,  that  to 
triumph  over  our  passions  is,  of  all  conquests,  the 
most  glorious. 

Alexander,  after  continuing  ten  days  in  Maracanda, 
in  order  to  recover  his  spirits,  marched  into  the  Xenip- 
oa.a  province  bordering  upon  Scythia;  whither  some 
rebels  were  retired,  all  whon  'ie  subjected, and  gave 
them  a  free  pardon.  From  thence  he  set  forward 
with  his  army  towards  the  Chorienian  rock,  of  which 
Sysimethres  was  governor.  All  access  to  it  seemed 
absolutely  impracticable;  nevertheless,  he  at  last  got 
near  it,  after  having  passed  through  numberless  diffi- 
culties, and,  by  the  mediation  of  Oxyartes,  a  prince 
of  that  country,  who  had  adhered  to  Alexander,  he 
prevailed  with  Sysimethres  to  surrender.  The  king 
after  this  left  him  the  government  of  that  place,  and 
promised  him  very  great  advantages  in  case  he  con- 
tinued faithful. 

Alexander  had  resolved  to  attack  the  Dahae,  be- 
cause  Spitamenes,  the  chief  of  the  rebels,  had  taken 
refuge  among  them;  but  the  good  fortune  which  al- 
ways attended  him,  spared  him  that  labour.  The 
wife  of  this  Barbarian,  being  no  longer  able  to  bear 
the  vagabond  wretched  life  her  husband  had  forced 
her  to  lead,  and  having  often  entreated  him,  but  in 
Tain,  to  surrender  himself  to  the  conqueror,  she  her- 
!H-lt  murdered  him  in  the  night;  and,  quite  covered 
with  his  blood,  went  and  carried  his  head  to  the  king. 
Alexander  was  shocked  at  so  horrid  a  spectacle,  and 
ordered  her  to  be  driven  ignominiously  from  the  camp. 

Alexander,  after  having  drawn  his  army  out  of  the 
garrisons,  where  they  had  wintered  three  months, 
marched  towards  a  country  called  Gabaza.  In  his 
way  he  met  with  a  dreadful  storm.  Flashes  of  light- 
ning coming  thick  one  upon  the  other,  dazzled  the  eyes 
of  the  soldiers,  and  entirely  discouraged  them.  It 
thundered  almost  incessantly,  and  the  thunderbolts 
fell  every  moment  at  the  feet  of  the  soldiers;  so  that 


i  Fulmen  eit,  ubi  cum  poteitate  habitat  iracundis. 
Pa*/.  Syr. 

»  Nee  minUi  error  eorum  nocet  moribu*,  si  quidem  Le- 
on  id  an  Alexamlri  pcdagogu*,  ul  a  Bitbylonio  Diojcne  tradi- 
tur,  nui!;v!-»!s.ti  eum  viliii  imbuit,  qua;  nibuetum  quoque  ei 
jam  maximum  regem  ab  ilia  institutions  puerili  sum  pruie- 
euu.  Quintil.  I.  i.  c.  1. 

•  Victor  lot  regum  atque  pofiulorum,  ire  inccnbuit.  Id 
•dim  egerat,  ul  omnia  potion  haberet  in  poter'ate,  quam 
affrr.tni — (mperare  libi,  maximum  imperium  rst.  Sentc. 
£fut.  exiii. 


they  did  not  dare  either  to  stand  still  or  advance  for- 
ward. On  a  sudden,  a  violent  shower  of  rain,  mixed 
with  hail,  came  pouring  down  like  a  flood;  and  BO 
extreme  was  the  cold  in  this  country,  that  it  froze  the 
rain  as  soon  as  it  fell.  The  sufferings  of  the  army 
on  this  occasion  were  almost  insupportable.  Th« 
king^whowas  the  only  person  invincible  by  these  ca- 
lamities, rode  up  anil  down  among  the  soldiers,  com- 
forted and  animated  them;  and  pointing  at  smoke 
which  issued  from  distant  huts,  urged  tin  in  to  march 
thither  with  all  the  speed  possible.  Having  given  or- 
ders for  the  felling  of  a  great  number  of  trees,  and 
laying  them  in  heaps  up  and  down,  he  had  fires  made 
in  different  places,  and  by  this  means  savec1  the  armj 
but  upwards  of  1000  men  lost  their  lives.  The  king 
made  up  to  the  officers  and  soldiers  the  several  losses 
they  had  sustained  during  this  fatal  storm. 

When  they  were  recovered  so  well  as  to  be  able  to 
march,  he  went  into  the  country  of  the  Sacse,  which 
he  soon  overran  and  laid  waste.  Soon  alter  this, 
Oxyartes  received  him  in  his  palace,  and  invited  him 
to  a  sumptuous  banquet,  in  which  he  displayed  all 
the  magnificence  of  the  Barbarians.  He  had  a  (laugh- 
ter called  Roxana,  whose  exquisite  beauty  was  heigh- 
tened by  all  the  charms  of  wit  and  good  sense.  Alex« 
ander  found  her  charms  irresistible,  and  made  her 
his  wife;  covering  his  passion  with  the  specious  pre- 
tence, of  uniting  the  two  nations  in  such  bands  at 
should  improve  their  mutual  harmony,  by  blending 
their  interests,  and  throwing  down  all  distinctions  be« 
tween  the  conquerors  and  the  conquered.  This  mar- 
riage displeased  the  Macedonians  very  much,  and  ex- 
asperated his  chief  courtiers,  to  see  him  make  one  of 


c  ue,        e        m  mae  on 

his  slaves  his  father-in-law:  but  as,  after  his  murder- 
ing Clitus,*  no  one  dared  to  speak  to  him  with  free- 
dom, they  applauded  what  he  did  with  their  eyes  and 
countenances,  which  can  adapt  themselves  wonder- 
fully to  flattery  and  servile  complaisance. 

In  fine;  having  resolved  to  march  into  India,  and 
embark  from  thence  on  the  ocean,  he  commanded  (in 
order  that  nothing  might  be  left  behind  to  check  nil 
designs)  that  30,000  young  men  should  be  brought 
him,  all  completely  armed,  out  of  the  several  pro- 
vinces, to  serve  him  at  the  same  time  for  hostages  ai 
well  as  soldiers.  In  the  meanwhile  he  sent  Cralenui 
against  some  of  the  rebels,  whom  he  easily  defeated 
Polysperchon  likewise  subdued  a  country  called  Bu 
bacenc;  so  that  all  things  being  in  perfect  tranquillity 
Alexander  bent  his  whole  thoughts  to  the  carrying  of 
war  with  India.  This  country  was  considered  as  th» 
richest  in  the  world,  not  only  in  gold,  but  in  pearli 
and  precious  stones,  with  which  the  inhabitants  adorn 
ed  themselves,  but  with  more  luxury  than  graceful 
ness.  It  was  related,  that  the  shields  of  the  soldier* 
"ere  of  gold  and  ivory;  and  the  king,  now  the  great 
t  monarch  in  the  world,  being  determined  not  to 


coats  01  limn  ornaiiienieu  wiui  goiu  nnu  silver,  HIIU 
prepared  to  march  for  this  enterprise,  at  the  head  of 
120,000  men,  all  equipped  thus  magnificently. 

All  things  being  ready  for  the.ir  setting  out,  he 
thought  proper  to  reveal  the  design  he  had  so  long 
meditated,  viz.  to  have  divine  honours  paid  him;  ana 
was  solely  intent  on  the  means  of  putting  that  design 
in  execution.  He  was  anxious,  not  only  to  be  called, 
but  to  be  believed,  the  son  of  Jupiter;  as  if  it  hud 
been  possible  for  him  to  command  absolutely  the 
mind  as  well  as  the  tongue,  and  that  the  Macedonian! 
should  fall  prostrate,  and  adore  him  after  the  Persian 
manner. 

To  soothe  and  cherish  these  ridiculous  pretensions,* 
there  were  not  wanting  flatterers,  (hose  common  pests 
of  courts,  who  are  more  dangerous  to  princes  than 
the  arms  of  their  enemies.  The  Macedonian*,  indeed, 
would  not  stoop  to  this  base  adulation;  all  of  them, 
to  a  man,  refusing  to  vary,  in  any  manner,  from  the 


•  Sed,  post.  Clyti  rirdrm,  libcrtate  sublati,  vultu  iji.i  maa- 
imi  servit,  aasemic'bantur   Q.  Curt. 

•  Non  decrat  taliu  roncupincenti  pernicio«a  aduU'w  per 
pi' t  ii u in    roalum   regum,   quorum    oper  c&'piui   au«n«atM 
quam  hoitif,  evcrtil.     Q.  Curl. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


579 


custom?  of  their  country.  The  whole  evil  was  owing 
to  some  Greeks,  whose  depraved  manners  were  a 
icandal  to  their  profession  of  teaching  virtue  and  the 
sciences.  These,  though  the  very  refuse  of  Greece, 
were  nevertheless  in  greater  credit  with  the  king,  than 
either  the  princes  of  his  blood,  or  the  generals  of  his 
Qitnv:  it  was  such  creatures  as  these  that  placed  him 
in  the  skies;  and  published,  wherever  they  came,  that 
Hercules,  Bacchus  Castor,  and  Pollux,  would  resign 
their  seat*  to  this  new  deity. 

He  therefore  appointed  »  festival,  and  made  an 
incredibly  pompous  banquet,  to  which  he  invited  the 
greati  st  lords  of  his  court,  both  Macedonians  and 
Greek,,  and  most  of  the  highest  quality  among  the 
Persians.  With  these  he  sat  down  at  table  for  some 
time,  after  which  he  withdrew.  Upon  this  Cleon,  one 
of  his  llatterers,  began  to  speak,  and  expatiated  very 
touch  on  the  praises  of  the  king,  as  had  before  been 
agreed  upon.  He  made  a  long  detail  of  the  high  obli- 
gations they  had  to  him,  all  which  (he  observed)  they 
might  acknowledge  and  repay  at  a  very  easy  expense, 
merely  with  two  grains  of  incense,  which  they  should 
r»ffer  to  him  as  to  a  god,  without  the  least  scruple, 
since  they  believed  him  such.  To  this  purpose  he 
cited  the'example  of  the  Persians.  He  took  notice, 
that  Hercules  himself,  and  Bacchus,  were  not  ranked 
among  the  deities  till  after  they  had  surmounted  the 
envy  of  their  contemporaries;  that  in  case  the  rest 
fhould  scruple  to  p*y  this  justice  to  Alexander's  merit, 
lie  himself  was  resolved  to  show  them  the  way,  and  to 
worship  him  if  he  should  come  into  the  hall:  but  that 
all  of  them  must  do  their  duty,  especially  those  that 
prof<s«ed  wisdom,  who  ought  to  set  the  others  an 
example  of  the  veneration  due  to  so  great  a  monarch. 

It  appeared  plainly  that  this  speech  was  directed  to 
Callisthenes.  Ht  was  related  to  Aristotle, 1  who  had 
presented  him  to  Alexander  his  pupil,  that  he  might 
attend  upon  that  monarch  in  the  war  of  Persia.  He 
was  considered,  upon  account  of  his  wisdom  and 
gravity,  as  the  fittest  person  to  give  him  such  whole- 
tonic  counsel  as  was  most  capable  of  preserving  him 
from  those  excesses,  into  which  his  youth  and  fiery- 
temper  might  hurrv  him;  but  he  was  accused  of  not 
"g  the  gentle,  insinuating  behaviour  of  courts; 
•nd  of  not  knowing  a  certain,  medium,*  between  gro- 
velling complaisance,  and  inflexible  obstinacy.  Ari- 
stotle had  attempted,  but  to  no  purpose,  to  soften  the 
severity  of  his  temper;  and  foreseeing  the  ill  conse- 
quences with  which  this  disagreeable  liberty  of  speak- 
ing his  mind  might  be  attended,  he  used  often  to 
repeat  the  following  verse  of  Homer  to  him:' 

Mr  ion,  thy  freedom  will  abridge  thy  day*. 

And  his  prediction  was  but  too  true. 

This  philosopher,  seeing  that  every  one,  on  this 
occasion,  continued  in  a  deep  silence,  and  that  the 
eyes  of  the  whole  assembly  were  fixed  on  him,  made 
a  speech,  which  appears  to  me  just  enough.  However, 
it  often  happens,  when  a  subject  is  bound  in  duty  to 
oppose  the  inclinations  of  his  sovereign,  that  the  most 
cautious  and  most  respectful  zeal  is  considered  at 
insolence  and  rebellion.  "  Had  the  king,"  said  he, 
*  bf  en  present  at  the  speech  which  thou  hast  just 
made,  none  among  us  would  have  attempted  to  answer 
thee.  for  he  himself  would  have  interrupted  thee,  and 
not  have  suffered  thee  to  prompt  him  to  assume  the 
customs  of  barbarians,  in  casting  an  odium  on  his  per- 
lon  and  glory,  bv  so  servile  an  adulation.  But  since 
he  is  absent.  I  w^ill  answer  thee  in  his  name.  I  con- 
•ider  Alexander  as  worthy  of  all  the  honours  that  can 
be  paid  a  mortal;  but  there  is  a  difference  between 
the  worship  of  the  gods  and  that  of  men.  The  former 
includes  temples,  altars,  prayers,  and  sacrifices;  the 
latter  is  confined  to  praise*  only,  and  awful  respect. 
We  salute  the  latter,  and  look  upon  it  as  glorious  to 
pay  them  submission,  obedience,  and  fidelity;  but  we 
•dore  the  former,  we  institute  festivals  to  their  honour, 

»  Dio?.  Laert.  in  Ariitot.lib.  T.  303. 

•  Inter  abruptam  contumaciam  et  deforme  obtequium 
pergere  iter  auibiliune  ac  periculis  vacuum.  TTteit.  Anntl. 
lib.  ir.  cap.  20. 

t     Uxvoifl;  tr.  ft:  i.  TIXO(.  *FTimi,t''  iytfiinf. 

II.  ITiii.Y.93. 


and  sing  hymns  and  anthems  to  their  glory.  The 
worship  of  the  gods  does  itself  vary,  according  to  their 
rank;  and  the  nomage  we  pay  to  Castor  and  Pollux, 
is  not  like  that  with  which  we  adore  Mercury  and 
Jupiter.  We  must  not  therefore  confound  all  distinc- 
tions, either  by  bringing  down  the  gods  to  the  condi- 
tion of  mortals,  or  by  raising  a  mortal  to  the  state  of  a 
god.  Alexander  would  be  justly  offended  should  we 
pay  to  another  person,  the  homage  due  to  his  sacred 
person  alone:  ought  we  not  to  diead  the  indignation 
of  the  gods  as  much,  should  we  bestow  upon  mortals 
the  honours  due  to  them  alone?  I  am  «en»iblr  that 
our  in  natch  is  vastly  superior  to  the  rest;  he  is  the 
greatest  of  kings,  and  the  most  glorious  of  conquerors: 
but  then  he  is  a  man,  not  a  god.  To  obtain  IMS  title, 
he  must  first  be  divested  of  his  mortal  frame:  but 
this  it  is  greatly  our  interest  to  wish  may  not  happen, 
but  as  late  as  possible.  The  Greeks  did  not  worship 
Hercules  till  niter  his  death:  and  that  not  till  the  ora- 
cle had  expressly  commanded  it.  The  Persian*  are 
cited  as  an  example  for  our  imitation:  hut  hott  long 
is  it  that  the  vanquished  have  given  law  to  the  \irtor* 
Can  we  forget  that  Alexander  crossed  the  Hellespont, 
not  to  subject  Greece  to  Asia,  but  Asia  to  Greece?'1 
The  deep  silence  which  all  the  company  observed 
whilst  Callisthenes  spoke,  was  a  sufficient  indication 
of  their  thoughts.  The  kinjj,  who  stood  behind  the 
ta|i<  -trr  all  the  time,  heard  whatever  had  passed.  He 
thtreupon  ordered  Cleon  to  be  told,  "That  without 
insisting  any  farther,  he  would  only  require  the  Per- 
sians to  fall  prostrate,  according  to  their  usual  custom." 
A  little  alter  this  he  came  in,  pretending  he  had  been 
busied  in  some  affair  of  importance,  and  immediately 
the  Persians  fell  prostrate  to  adoie  him.  Polysperchon, 
who  stood  near  him,  observing  that  one  of  them  bowed 
so  low  that  his  chin  touched  the  ground,  bid  him  in  a 
rallying  tone  of  voice,  to  strike  harder.  The  king, 
offended  at  this  joke,  threw  Poly sperchon  into  prison, 
and  broke  up  the  assembly.  However,  he  afterwards 
pardoned  him;  but  Callisthenes  was  not  so  fortunate. 
To  rid  himself  of  him,  belaid  to  his  charge  a  crime 
of  which  he  was  no  ways  guilty.  Hermolaus,  one  of 
the  young  officers  who  attended  upon  the  king  in  all 
places,  had,  upon  account  of  some  private  pique, 
formed  a  conspiracy  against  him;  but  it  was  very 
happily  discovered,  the  instant  it  was  to  be  put  in 
execution.  The  criminals  were  seized,  put  to  the 
torture,  and  executed.  Not  one  among  them  had 
accused  Callistbenes;  but  having  been  very  intimate 
with  Hermolaus,  that  alone  was  sufficient.  Accord- 
ingly he  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon,  loaded  with  irons 
and  the  most  grievous  torments  were  inflicted  on  him, 
in  order  to  extort  a  confession  of  guilt.  But  he  insis- 
ted upon  his  innocence  to  the  last,  and  expired  in  the 
midst  of  his  tortures. 

Nothing  has  reflected  so  much  Dishonour  on  Alex- 
ander's   memory   as  this  unjust  and  cruel  death  of 
Callisthene-i.     He  truly  merited  the  name  of  philoso- 
pher, from    the    solidity  of   his    understanding,  the 
extent  of  his  knowledge,  the  austerity  of  his  life,  the 
regularity  of  his  conduct,  and  above  all,  from    the 
hatred   he  so  evidently  manifested   for  dissimulation 
and    flattery  of  every   kind.     He  was  not    born  for 
court*,  (he  frequenters  of  which  must  have  a  supple, 
pUable,  flexible  temper:  sometimes  indeed  it  must  be 
of  a  knavish  and  treacherous,  at  least  of  a  hypocriti- 
cal, flattering  turn.     He  very  seldom  was  seen  at  the 
i  king's    table,  though    frequently   invited  to  it.    and 
|  whenever  he   prevailed  so  far  upon  himself  a«  to  go 
:  thither,  his  melancholy  silent  air  was  a  manifest  indica- 
'  tion,  that  he  disapproved  of  every  thing  that  was  said 
|  or  done  at  it.     With  this  humour,  which  was  a  little 
too  severe,  he  would  have  been  an   inestimable  trea- 
sure to  a  prince  who  hated  falsehood;  for  among  the 
many  thousands  who  surrounded  Alexander,  and  paid 
court  to  him,  Callisthenes  alone  had  courage  enough 
to  ttll   him   the  truth.     But  where  do  we  meet  with 
|  princes  who  know  the  value  of  such  a  treasure  and  the 
use  which  ought  to  be  made  of  it?     Truth  seldom 
pierces  those  clouds  which  are  raised  by  the  -minority 
of  the  great,  and  the  flattery  of  their  courtiers.    And 
indeed,  Alexander,  by  this  dreadful  example,  deprived 
all  virtuous  men  of  tbe  opportunity  of  pointing  out  £v» 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


true  interest  From  that  instant  no  one  spoke  with 
freedom  in  the  council;  even  those  who  had  the  great- 
est love  tor  the  public  welfare,  and  a  personal  affec- 
tion lor  Alexander,  thought  themselves  not  obliged  to 
undeceive  him.  After  this  nothing  was  listened  to 
but  (lattery  which  gained  such  an  ascendant  over  that 
prince,  as'entirely  depraved  him,  and  justly  punished 
bim  for  having  sacrificed  to  the  wild  ambition  of  having 
adoration  paid  him,  the  most  virtuous  man  about  his 
person. 

1  observe,  after  Seneca.1  that  the  death  of  Callis- 
theues  is  an  eternal  reproach  to  Alexander,  and  so 
horrid  a  crime,  that  no  quality,  how  beautiful  soever, 
no  military  exploit,  however  brilliant,  can  ever  e flare 
its  infamy.  If  it  is  said  in  favour  of  Alexander,  that 
he  killed  an  infinite  number  of  Persians;  that  he 
dethroned  and  slew  the  most  powerful  king  of  the 
earth;  conquered  innumerable  provinces  and  nations; 
penetrated  as  far  as  the  ocean,  and  extended  the 
bounds  of  his  empire  from  the  most  remote  part  of 
Thrace  to  the  extremities  of  the  East:  in  answer  to 
each  of  these  particulars,  "  Yes,"  says  Seneca,  "  but 
he  murdered  Callisthenes;"8  a  crime  of  such  magni- 
tude, that  it  entirely  obliterates  the  glory  of  all  his 
other  actions. 

SECTION  XV. — ALEXANDER  SETS  OUT  FOR  INDIA. 
A  DIGRESSION  WITH  REGARD  TO  THAT  COUNTRY. 
HE  BESIEGES  AND  TAKES  SEVERAL  CITIKS  WHICH 
APPEARED  IMPREGNABLE,  AND  IS  OFTEN  IN  DAN- 
GER OF  HIS  LIFE.  HE  CROSSES  THE  RIVER  INDUS, 
AND  AFTERWARDS  THE  HVDASPES,  AND  GAINS  A 
SIGNAL  VICTORY  OVER  PORUS,  WHOM  HE  RESTORES 
TO  HIS  THRONE. 

AlJCXANDER,  to  stop  the  murmurs  and  discontents 
which  arose  among  his  soldiers,  set  out  for  India.  He 
himself  wanted  action  and  motion,  for  he  always, 
when  unemployed,  lost  part  of  the  glory  he  had  ac- 
quired in  war.  An  excess  of  vanity  and  folly  promp- 
ted him  to  undertake  this  expedition;  a  project  quite 
useless  in  itself,  and  attended  with  very  dangerous 
ron«e«|ijences.  He  had  read  in  the  ancient  failles  of 
Greece,  that  Bacchus,  and  Hercules,  both  sons  of 
Jupiter,  like  himself,  had  marched  so  far.  He  was 
determined  not  to  be  surpassed  by  them:  and  there 
was  not  wanting  many  flatterers,  who  applauded  this 
wild,  chimerical  design. 

These  are  the  things  that  constitute  the  glory  and 
merit  of  such  pretended  heroes;  and  it  is  this  which 
many  people,  dazzled  by  a  false  splendour,  still  admire 
in  Alexander:  a  ridiculous  desire  of  rambling  up  and 
down  the  world;  of  disturbing  the  tranquillity  of  na- 
tions, who  were  not  bound  to  Vim  by  any  obligations; 
of  treating  nil  those  as  enemies,  who  should  refuse  to 
acknowledge  him  for  their  sovereign;  of  ransacking 
and  extirpating  such  as  should  presume  to  defend 
their  liberties,  their  possessions  and  their  lives,  against 
an  unjust  invader,  who  came  from  the  extremity  of  the 
earth  to  attack  them,  without  the  least  shadow  of  rea- 
son. Add  to  this  glaring  injustice,  the  rash  and  wild 
project  he  had  formed, ol  subduing  with  infinite  labour. 
Mid  the  utmost  hazard,  many  more  nations  than  it  was 
possible  for  him  to  keep  in  subjection;  and  the  sad 
necessity  to  which  he  was  reduced,  of  being  perpetu- 
alh  obliged  to  conquer  them  anew,  and  punish  them 
f.ir  their  rebellion.  This  is  a  sketch  of  what  the 
conquest  of  India  would  exhibit  to  us,  after  I  shall 
have  given  some  little  account  of  the  situation  and 
manners  of  that  country,  and  of  some  of  its  rarities. 

Ptolemy  divides  India  into  two  parts;  India  on  this, 
and  India  on  the  other  side  of  the  Ganges.  Alexan- 
der did  not  go  beyond  the  former,  nor  even  so  far 


•  Hoc  cut  Alexnndri  rrimen  teternum,  quod  nulla  virtus, 
nulla  bellorum  felicitag  redimet.  Nam  quotien*  quis  dixe 
rit  ocridit  Pernarum  mulla  millia,  npponetur,  et  Calluthe- 
nem  Uuotiens  dictum  erit,  ocoidit  Darium,  penen  quern 
tone  magnum  regnum  erat ;  npponetur,  et  Callisthcnem. 
Cliia'.icnft  dictum  erit,  uintiin  oreana  tcniis  tir.it,  i|isum 
quoque  tentavit  novia  rlaimbus,  et  imporium  ex  angu- 
lo  ThrariB  u.«quo  ad  orient  i*  termino*  prolulit;  flint ur, 
•ed  Cullisthenem  ocridit.  Omnia  licit  antiqua  ducum 
r«jrumi|ue  exempla  tnniierit.  ex  hi»  qua»  fecit,  nihil  tarn 
•Mgimm  erit,  quam  scwlui  Callisthenit.  Senee.  JVot.  quatt. 

vi  c.  23.  •  U.  Curt.l.  »iii.  c.'J. 


as  the  Ganges.  This  first  part  is  situated  betwetft 
two  great  ri>er»,  the  Indus,  whence  this  country  re- 
ceives its  name,  and  the  Giiuges.  Ptolemv  says,  the 
limits  ol  it  are,  to  the  west,  Paropamisus,  Arailiu-sia 
and  Gedrosia,  which  either  form  a  part,  or  are  u;>on 
the  confines  of  the  kingdom  of  Per»ia;  to  the  north, 
Mount  Imaus,  which  is  a  part  of  Great  Tartary  :  to 
the  east,  the  Ganges:  to  the  south,  the  Ocean  or 
Indian  Sea. 

All  the  Indians,8  according  to  Arrian,  are  free, 
and,  like  the  Lacedaemonians,  have  no  slaves  among 
them.  The  only  difference  is,  the  latter  m»ki  use  el 
foreign  slaves,  whereas  there  are  none  in  ludia.  Thti 
do  not  erect  any  monument*  in  honour  of  the  dead, 
but  are  of  opinion,  that  the  reputation  of  illustrious 
men  is  their  mausoleum. 

They  may  be  divided  into  seven  classes.  The  first 
and  most  honourable,  though  the  least  numerous,  is 
that  of  the  Hrahmans,  who  are,  as  it  were,  the  guar- 
dians of  religion.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  mention 
them  in  the  sequel. 

The  second  and  greatest  is  that  of  the  husband- 
men. These  are  hud  in  great  esteem.  Tlieir  only 
occupation  is  to  cultivate  the  fi*  Ids,  and  they  are  never 
taken  from  this  employment  to  carry  aims  and  serve 
in  the  fit  Id:  even  in  tune  of  war,  it  is  an  inviolable 
law,  never  to  molest  them  or  their  lands. 

The  third  is  that  of  herdsmen  and  shepherds,  who 
keep  herds  and  (locks,  and  never  come  into  cities. 
They  rove  up  and  down  the  mountains,  and  often 
exercise  themselves  in  hunting. 

The  fourth  is  of  traders  and  artificers,  among 
whom  pilots  and  seamen  are  included.  These  three 
lasti  orders  pay  a  tribute  to  the  king,  and  none  are 
exempt  from  it  but  those  that  make  arms,  who  in- 
stead of  paying  any  thing,  receive  a  stipend  from  the 
public. 

The  fifth  is  of  soldiers,  whose  only  improvement  U 
war:  they  are  furnished  with  all  sorts  of  necessaries; 
and,  in  lime  of  peace,  are  abundantly  supplied  with 
all  things.  Their  life,  at  all  times,  is  free  and  disen- 
gaged from  cares  of  every  kind. 

The  sixth  ordc  r  is  that  of  overseers  ('£»/«•»•••,) 
who  superintend  the  actions  of  others,  and  examine 
every  transaction,  either  in  cities  or  the  country,  and 
report  the  whole  to  the  prince.  The  virtues  and  quali- 
ties required  in  these  magistrates  are  exactnes-,  <m- 
cerity,  probity,  and  the  love  of  their  country.  None 
of  these  magistrates,  says  the  historian,  have  ever  been 
accused  of  telling  an  untruth.  Thrice  happy  nation, 
were  this  really  fact!  However,  this  observation 
proves  at  least  that  truth  and  justice  were  hail  in  greal 
honour  in  this  country,  and  that  knavery  and  in 
sincerity  were  detested  in  it. 

Lastly,  the  seventh  class  consists  of  persons  em 
ployed  in  the  public  councils,  and  who  share  the  care» 
of  the  government  with  the  sovereign.  From  thi» 
class  are  taken  magistrates,  intendants,  governors'  of 
provinces,  generals,  and  all  military  officers,  whethei 
ibr  land  or  sea;  comptrollers  of  the  treasury,  recei 
vers,  and  all  who  are  entrusted  with  the  public  mo 
neys. 

These  different  orders  of  the  state  never  intermix, 
by  marriage;  and  an  artificer,  for  instance,  is  not 
allowed  to  take  a  wife  from  among  the  class  of  hus- 
bandmen; and  so  of  the  rest.  None  of  these  can  fol- 
low two  professions  at  the  same  time,  nor  quit  one 
class  for  another.  It  is  natural  to  conclude,  that  this 
regulation  must  have  contributed  very  much  to  tii* 
improvement  of  all  arts  and  trades;  as  every  one  added 
his  own  industry  and  reflections  to  those  of  his  ances- 
tors, which  were  delivered  down  to  him  by  an  unin- 
terrupted tradition. 

Many  observations  might  be  made  on  these  Indian 
customs,  which  I  am  obliged  to  omit,  for  the  sake  of 
proceeding  in  uijr  history.  1  only  entreat  the  reader  to 
observe,  that  in  every  wise  government,  every  well, 
governed  state,  the  tilling  of  lands,  and  the  grazing  ol 
cattle  (two  perpetual  and  certain  sources  of  ric  lies  anJ 
abundance,)  have  always  been  one  of  the  chief  objecU 
of  the  care  of  those  who  preside  in  the  administration, 

•  Arrian.  d«  Indie,  p.  324—301 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


581 


«n<i  that  the  neglect  of  either  is  erring  against  one  of 
the  most  important  maxim?  in  policy. 

I  also  admire  very  much  that  custom  of  appointing 
Overseers,  whethtr  they  are  known  for  such  or  not, 
who  go  upon  the  spot,  in  order  to  inspect  the  conduct 
Ol  governors,  intendanls,  and  judges;  the  only  in<  thod 
to  prevent  the  rapine  and  outrages,  to  which  unlimited 
authority,  and  the  distance  fioiii  a  court,  frequently 
give  occasion;  the  only  method, at  the  same  time,  for 
a  sovereign  to  know  the  state  of  his  kingdom,  without 
which  it  it  impossible  for  him  to  govern  happily  the 
people  whom  Providence  has  entrusted  to  his  care. 
This  care  regard*  him  personally;  and  those  who  act 
under  him  can  no  more  dispense  with  the  discharge  of 
it,  than  they  CHII  usurp  his  diadem. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  in  India,  from  the  month  of 
Juiie  to  those  of  September  and  October,  • 
rains  fall  very  often,  whereby  the  crossing  of  rivers  is 
rendered  much  more  difficult,  and,  frequent  inunda- 
tions happen.  Hence  we  may  judge  how  greatlv,  during 
•II  this  season,  the.  armies  of  Alexander  must  have 
lutTered,  as  thc-y  were  at  that  time  in  the  field. 

Before  I  leave  what  relate*  in  general  to  India,  I 
shall  say  a  few  word*  concerning  the  elephant;-,  with 
which  that  country  abounds  more  than  any  other. 
The  elephant  exceeds  »ll  terrestrial  animals  in  gire. 
Some  are  thirteen  or  fifteen  feet  high.  The  female 
goes  a  wholes-ear  with  heryoung.  It  lives  sometimes 
to  the  a<je  ol  100  or  120  years;  nay  much  longer,  if 
•onie  ancient  writers  may  be  credited.  Its  nose,  called 
its  trunk  (pmboscit,)  it  long  and  hollow,  like  a  large 
trumpet,  and  serves  the  elephant  instead  of  a  hand,i 
which  it  moves  with  incredible  agililv  and  strength, 
and  thereby  is  of  prodigious  service  to  it.  The  ele- 
phant.2 notwithstanding  its  prodigious  size,  is  to 
tractable  and  industrious,  that  one  would  be  almost 
apt  to  conclude  it  were  formed  with  something  like 
human  reason.  It  is  susceptible  of  affection,  fond- 
nt •«,  and  gratitude,  so  far  as  to  pine  away  with  sor- 
row when  it  ha<  lost  its  master,  and  even  sometimes 
to  destroy  itself  when  it  happens  to  have  ill  used  or 
niun'»red  him  in  the  transport  of  its  fury.  There  is 
no  kind  of  thing  which  it  cannot  be  taught.  Arrian, 
who«e  authority  is  not  to  be  questioned,  relates, 
that  he  had  seen  an  elephant  dance  with  two  cym- 
bals fixed  to  his  legs,  which  he  struck  one  after  the 
Other  in  cadence  with  his  trunk;  while  the  rest  dan- 
ced round  him,  keeping  time  with  a  surprising  exact- 
ness. 

He  describes  very  particularly  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  taken.  The  Indians  inclose  a  large  spot  of 
rround.with  a  trench  of  about  twenty  feet  wide,  and 
fifteen  high,  to  which  there  is  acciss  but  in  one  part, 
and  this  is  abridge,  which  is  covered  with  turf;  in  order 
that  these  animals,  who  are  very  subtle,  may  not  sus- 
pect any  thing.  Of  the  earth  that  is  dug  out  of  the 
trtnch,  a  kind  of  wall  is  raised  on  the  outer  side,  of 
which  a  little  kind  of  chamber  is  made,  where  people 
conceal  themselves  in  order  to  watch  these  animals, 
leaving  a  very  small  opening.  In  this  enclosure  two 
or  three  tame  female  elephants  are  set.  The  instant 
the  wild  elephants  see  or  smell  them,  they  run  and 
whirl  about  so  much,  that  at  last  they  enter  the  en- 
closure, upon  which  the  bridge  is  immediately  broken 
down,  and  the  people  upon  the  watch  fly  to  the  neigh- 
bouring villages  for  help.  After  they  have  been  broke 
for  a  few  days  by  hunger  and  thirst,  people  enter  the 
enclosure  upon  tame  elephants,  and  with  these  they 
attack  them.  As  the  wild  ones  are  by  this  time  very 
much  weakened,  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  make  a 
long  resistance.  Alter  throwing  them  on  the  ground, 
men  tret  upon  their  backs,  having  first  made  a  deep 
wound  round  their  necks,  about  which  they  throw  a 
rope,  in  order  to  put  them  to  great  pain,  in  case  they 
attempt  to  stir.  Being1  tamed  in  this  manner,  they 
staffer  themselves  to  be  led  quietlr  to  the  houses  with 
the  rest,  where  they  are  fed  withgra»*and  green  corn, 
and  gradually  tamed  by  blows  ami  hunger,  till  such 

i  Manu«  data  flrphantig.  quia  prupter  mairniiudim-m  for- 
aori*  difficile*  ailiius  habvbant  ad  pastum.  Cie.  de  n*t.  deer. 
Fib  ii  n.  I-.'.X 

•  Ef>l>hanto  belluarum  nulls  provident ior  At  figure que 
•Mtk-  1  De  not.  de»r.  lib.  i.  n.  97. 


time  as  they  obey  readily  their  master's  voice,  and 
perfectly  understand  his  language. 

Every  one  knows  the  use  that  was  formerly  mad« 
of  these  animals  in  battle:  however,  they  frequently 
made  greater  haioc  in  the  army  to  which  they  belonged 
Omii  in  that  of  the  eneniy.  Their  teeth,  or  ralher 
tusks,  furnish  us  with  ivory.  But  it  is  time  to  return 
to  Alexander. 

This8  prince  having  entered  India,*  hll  the  petty 
kings  of  tnese  countries  came  to  meet  him,  and  make 
their  submissions.  They  declared  that  he  was  the 
third  son  of  Jupiter,5  who  had  arrived  in  their  coun- 
try: that  they  had  known  Bacchus  and  Hercules  no 
otherwise  than  by  fame;  but  as  for  Alexander,  they 
had  the  happiness  to  see  him,  and  to  enjoy  his  pre- 
sence. The  king  received  them  with  the  utmost 
courtesy,  commanding  them  to  accompany  him,  and 
serve  him  as  guides.  As  no  more  of  them  came  in  to 
pay  their  homage,  he  detached  Hephasstion  and  Per- 
diccas  with  part  of  his  forces,  to  subdue  all  who  should 
refuse  to  submit.  He  ordered  thwu  to  advance  as  far 
as  the  Indus,  and  to  prepare  boats  to  convey  his  army 
across  that  river.  But  finding  he  was  obliged  to  cross 
several  rivers,  he  caused  these  boats  to  be  built  in  such 
a  form,  that  they  could  be  taken  to  pieces;  the  «i  \e- 
ral  |mi  ts  of  them  carried  upon  waggons,  and  afterward* 
put  together  again.  Then,  having-  commanded  Cra- 
terus  to  follow  him  with  his  phalanx,  he  himself 
marched  before,  with  his  cavalry  and  light-armed 
troops;  and  after  a  slight  engagement,  he  defeated 
those  who  had  dared  to  make  head  against  him,  and 
pursued  them  to  the  next  city,  into  which  they  (led. 
Craterus  being  come  up,  the  ting,  in  order  to  terrify, 
at  the  first  onset,  those  nations  who  had  not  yet  ft  It 
the  nower  of  the  Macedonian  arms,  commanded  hi* 
soldiers  to  burn  down  the  fortifications  of  that  place, 
which  be  besieged  in  a  regular  way,  and  to  put  all  the 
inhabitants  to  the  sword.  But  as  he  was  going  round 
the  walls  on  horseback,  he  was  wounded  by  an  arrow. 
Notwithstanding  this  accident,  he  took  the  city,  after 
which  he  made  dreadful  havoc  of  all  the  soldiers  and 
inhabitants,  and  did  not  so  much  as  spare  the  houses. 

After  subduing  this  nation,  which  was  of  no  great 
consequence,  he  marched  towards  the  city  of  Nysa, 
and  encamped  pretty  near  its  walls,  behind  a  forest, 
that  hid  it.  In  the  mean  time.it  grew  so  very  cold  in 
the  night,  that  they  had  never  yet  felt  so  excessive  a 
chill;  but,  very  happily  for  them,  a  remedy  was  near 
at  hand.  They  felled  a  great  number  of  trees,  and 
lighted  up  stveral  fires,  which  proved  very  comforta- 
ble to  the  whole  army.  The  besieged  having  attempt- 
ed a  sally  with  ill  success,  a  faction  arose  in  the  city, 
some  being  of  opinion  that  it  would  be  best  for  them 
to  surrender,  whilst  others  were  for  holding  out. 
This  coming  to  the  king's  ear,  he  only  blocked  up 
the  city,  and  did  not  do  the  inhabitants  any  farther 
inj'irv;  till  at  last,  tired  out  with  the  length  of  the 
siege',  they  surrendered  at  discretion,  and  accordingly 
were  kimfly  treated  by  the  conqueror.  They  declared 
that  their  city  had  been  built  b)  Bacchus.  The  whole 
armv,  for  six  da\s  together,  celebrated  games,  and 
made  rejoicings  on  this  mountain,  in  honour  of  the 
god  who  wag  there  worshipped. 

He   marched    from    thence   to  a 

country  called  Dasoala,  which  had  A.  M.  3677. 
been  abandoned  by  the  inhabitant*.  Ant.  J.  C. '326. 
who  had  fled  for  shelter  to  inaccessi- 
ble mountains,  as  had  also  those  of  Acadera,  into  which 
he  afterwards  entered.  This  obliged  him  to  change 
hi*  method  of  war,  and  to  disperse  his  forces  in  diffe- 
rent places,  by  w  hich  means  the  enemy  were  all  de- 
feated at  once:  no  resistance  was  made  any  where, 
and  those  who  were  so  courageous  as  to  wait  the. 
coming  up  of  the  Macedonians,  were  all  cut  to  pieces. 
Ptolemy  took  several  little  cities  the  instant  he  set 


t  Quint.  Curt.  1.  »iii.  r.  9—14.  Arrian.  I.  iv.  n.  1P2— 105. 
I.  v.  p.  l!'.j-:E>1.  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  6H7— 699.  Diod.l.  xrii 
p  557— 55!».  Junlin.  I.  lii  c.  7.  t». 

*  Quintu*  Curtiuc  supposes,  that  ie»eral  conntriei on  thi* 
fide  »f  the  l.iilun.  hut  adjacent  to  that  ri»er,  belonged  to  la- 
din,  and  made  part  of  i:. 

•  Could  these  Greek  nstnei  of  gods  he  known  to  the  I» 
diani  1 


582 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


down  before  them.  Alexander  carried  the  large  ones, 
and,  after  uniting  all  his  forces,  passed  the  river  Cho- 
aspes,'  and  left  Coenus  to  besiege  a  rich  and  populous 
cit\ .  called  Bazira  bv  the  inhabitants. 

He  afterwards  marched  towards  Massaga,  whose 
ting,  railed  Assacanus,  was  lately  dead,  and  Cleophes, 
his  mother,  ruled  the  province  and  city.  There  were 
30.000  foot  in  it,  and  both  nature  and  art  seemed  to 
have  vied  with  each  other  in  raising  its  fortifications; 
for  towards  the  east,  it  was  surrounded  with  a  very 
rapid  river,  the  banks  of  which  were  steep,  and  diffi- 
cult of  access;  and  on  the  west  and  south  were  high 
craggy  rocks;  at  the  foot  whereof  were  caves,  which 
through  length  of  time  had  increased  into  a  kind  of 
abysses;  and  where  these  failed,  a  trench  of  an  asto- 
nishing depth  -was  digged  with  incredible  labour. 

\V  hlkt  Alexander  was  going  round  the  city,  to  view 
its  fortifications,  he  was  shot  by  an  arrow  in  the  calf 
of  his  leg;  but  he  only  pulled  out  the  weapon,  and, 
without  so  much  as  binding  up  the  wound,  mounted 
his  horse,  and  continued  to  view  the  outward  fortifica- 
tions of  the  city.  But  as  he  rode  with  his  leg  down- 
ward, and  the  congealing  of  the  blood  put  him  to  great 
pain,  it  is  related  that  he  cried,2  "  Every  one  swears 
that  I  am  the  son  of  Jupiter,  but  my  wound  makes 
me  sensible  that  I  am  a  man."  However,  he  did  not 
leave  the  place  till  he  had  seen  every  thing;  and  given 
all  the  necessary  orders.  Some  of  the  soldiers,  there- 
fore, demolished  such  houses  as  stood  without  the  city, 
and  with  the  rubbish,  filled  up  the  gulfs  above  men- 
tioned. Others  threw  great  trunks  of  trees  and  huge 
stones  into  them;  and  all  laboured  with  so  much  vi- 
gour, that  in  nine  days  the  works  were  completed,  and 
the  towers  were  raised  upon  them. 

The  king,  without  waiting  till  his  wound  was  healed, 
visited  the  works,  and  after  applauding  the  soldiers 
for  their  great  despatch,  caused  the  engines  to  be 
brought  forward,  whence  a  great  number  of  darts  were 
discharged  against  those  who  defended  the  walls.  But 
that  which  most  teirified  the  barbarians,  was  those 
towers  of  a  vast  height,  which  seemed  to  them  to 
move  of  themselves.  This  made  them  imagine,  that 
they  were  made  to  advance  by  the  gods;  and  that 
those  battering-rams  which  beat  down  walls,  and  the 
javelins  thrown  by  engines,  the  like  of  which  they  had 
never  seen, could  not  be  the  effect  of  human  strength: 
so  that,  persuaded  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  them 
to  defend  the  city, they  withdrew  into  the  citadel;  but 
not  finding  themselves  more  secure  there,  they  sent 
ambassadors  to  propose  a  surrender.  The  queen  af- 
terwards came  and  met  Alexander,  attended  by  a 
great  number  of  ladies,  who  all  brought  him  wine 
in  cups,  by  way  of  sacrifice.  The  king  gave  her  a 
very  gracious  reception,  and  restored  her  to  her 
kingdom. 

From  hence  Polysperchon  was  sent  with  an  army 
to  besiege  the  city  of  Ora,  which  he  soon  took.  Most 
of  it«  inhabitants  had  withdrawn  to  the  rock  called 
Aornos.  There  was  a  tradition,  that  Hercules  having 
besieged  this  rock,  an  earthquake  had  forced  him  to 
quit  the  siege.  There  are  not  on  this  rock,  as  on 
many  others,  gentle  declivities  of  easy  access;  but  it 
rises  like  a  bank;  and  being  very  wide  at  the  bottom, 
grows  narrower  all  the  way  to  the  top,  which  termi- 
nate* in  a  point.  The  river  Indus,  whose  source  it 
not  far  from  this  place,  flows  at  the  bottom,  its  banks 
being  perpendicular  and  high;  and  on  the  other  side 
were  vast  morasses,  which  it  was  necessary  to  fill  up 
before  the  rock  could  betaken.  Very  happily  for  the 
Macedonian?  they  were  near  a  forest.  This  the  king 
caused  to  be  cut  down,  commanding  the  soldiers  to 
carry  off  nothing  but  the  trunks,  the  branches  of 
which  were  lopped,  in  order  that  they  might  be  carried 
with  the  less  difficulty;  and  he  himself  threw  the  first 
trunk  into  the  morass.  The  army  seeing  this,  shouted 
for  joy,  and  every  soldier  labouring  with  incredible 
diligence,  the  work  was  finished  in  seven  days;  im- 
mediately after  which  the  attack  began.  The'oflficers 
were  of  opinion,  that  it  would  not  be  proper  for  the 

i  Thii  in  not  the  Chonsj>r!»  wnich  ran*  oy  Susa. 
•  Omnen  jurant  me  Jnvi*p*fe  (ilium,  »?d  vu'nua  hoc  hum! 
•em  eue  me  rlamat.     Senec.  Epist.  lix. 


king  to  expose  himself  on  this  occasion,  the  danger 
being  evidently  too  great.  However,  the  trumpet  had 
no  sooner  sounded,  than  this  prince,  who  \\as  not 
master  of  his  courage,  commanded  his  guaids  to  fol- 
low, himself  first  climbing  the  rock.  At  this  sight  it 
appeared  no  longer  inaccessible,  and  every  one  flew 
alter  him.  Never  were  soldiers  exposed  to  greater 
danger;  but  they  were  all  resolved  to  conquer  or  die. 
Several  fell  from  the  rock  into  the  river,  whose  whirl- 
pools swallowed  them  up.  The  barbarians  rolled 
great  stones  on  the  foremost,  who  being  scarce  able 
to  keep  upon  their  feet  (the  rock  was  so  slippery.)  fell 
down  the  precipices,  and  were  dashed  to  pieces.  No 
sight  could  possibly  be  more  dismal  than  this;  the 
king,  greatly  afflicted  at  the  loss  of  so  many  brave 
soldiers,  caused  a  retreat  to  be  sounded.  Neverthe- 
less, though  he  had  lost  all  hopes  of  taking  the  place, 
and  was  determined  to  raise  the  siege,  he  acted  as  if 
he  intended  to  continue,  and  accordingly  gave  order* 
for  bringing  forward  the  towers  and  other  engines. 
The  besieged,  by  way  of  insult,  made  great  rejoi- 
cings; and  continued  their  festivity  for  two  days  and 
two  nights,  making  the  rock  and  the  whole  neigh- 
bourhood echo  with  the  sound  of  their  drums  and 
cymbals.  But  the  third  night  they  were  not  heard, 
and  the  Macedonians  were  surprised  to  see  every 
part  of  the  rock  illuminated  with  torches.  The  king 
was  informed,  that  the  Indians  had  lighted  them  to 
assist  their  flight,  and  to  guide  them  the  more  easilj 
among  the  precipices,  during  the  obscurity  of  the 
night.  Immediately  the  whole  army,  by  Alexander'* 
order,  shouted  aloud,  which  terrified  the  fugitives  to 
much,  that  several  of  them  fancying  they  saw  the 
enemy,  flung  themselves  from  the  top  of  the  rock,  and 
perished  miserably.  The  king,  having  so  happily  and 
unexpectedly  possessed  himself  of  the  rock,  in  anal- 
most  miraculous  manner,  thanked  the  gods,  and  offer- 
ed sacrifices  in  their  honour. 

From  hence  he  marched  towards  Ecbolimus  which 
he  took,  and  after  sixteen  days'  march  arrived  at  the 
river  Indus,  where  he  found  that  Hephasstion  had 
got  all  things  ready  for  his  passage,  pursuant  to  th» 
orders  given  him.  The  king  of  the  country,  called 
Omphis,  whose  father  died  some  time  before,  had  sent 
to  Alexander,  to  know  whether  he  would  give  him 


leave  to  wear  the  crown.  Notwithstanding  he  had 
received  this  permission,  he  nevertheless  delayed  as- 
suming it  till  his  arrival.  He  then  went  to  meet  him 
with  his  whole  army;  and  when  Alexander  was  ad- 
vanced pretty  near,  he  pushed  forward  his  horse,  cam* 
Dp  singly  to  him,  and  the  king  did  the  same.  The 
Indian  then  told  him  by  an  interpreter,  "that  he  wa* 
come  to  meet  him  at  the  head  of  his  army,  in  order  to 
deliver  up  all  his  forces  into  his  hands;  that  he  sur- 
rendered his  person  and  kingdom  to  a  monarch,  who 
he  was  sensible,  fought  only  with  the  view  of  ac- 
quiring glory,  and  dreaded  nothing  so  luuch  as  trea- 
cherv."  The  king,  greatly  satisfied  with  the  frank- 
ness of  the  barbarian,  gave  him  his  hand,  and  restored 
him  to  his  kingdom.  He  then  made  Alexander  a  pre- 
sent of  fifty-six  elephants,  and  a  great  number  of 
other  animals  of  prodigious  size.  Alexander  ask- 
ing him  which  were  most  necessary  to  him,  husband- 
men or  soldiers?  he  replied,  that  as  he  was  at  war 
with  two  kings,  the  latter  were  of  greatest  service  to 
him.  Thf  se  two  monarch*  were  Abisares  and  Porus, 
the  latter  of  whom  was  the  most  powerful,  and  the 
dominions  of  both  were  situated  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Hvdaspes.  Omphis  assumed  the  diadem,  and 
took  the  name  of  Taxilu*.  by  which  the  kings  of  that 
country  were  usually  called.  He  made  magnificent 
presents  to  Alexander,  who  did  not  suffer  himself  to 
be  exceeded  in  generosity. 

The  next  day,  ambassadors  from  Abisares,  waiting 
upon  the  king,  surrendered  up  to  him,  pursuant  to  the 
power  given  them,  all  the  dominion?  of  their  sovereign; 
and  after  a  promise  of  fidelity  had  been  given  on  both 
sides,  they  returned  back. 

Alexander  expecting  that  Porn*,  astonished  with 
the  report  of  his  glory,  would  not  fail  to  submit  to  him, 
sent  a  message  to  that  prince,  us  if  he  hnd  been  hi* 
vassal,  requiring  him  to  pay  tribute,  and  meet  him 
u|x>n  the  frontier*  of  his  dominions.  Porus  answered 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


583 


With  great  composure,  thai  he  would  meet  him  upon 
the  frontiers,  but  it  should  be  sword  in  hand.  At  tlie 
tame  time,  n  reinforcement  of  thirty  elephants,  which 
were  of  great  service,  \vere  sent  to  Alexander.  He 
eave  the  superintendence  of  all  his  elephants  to  Taxi- 
lus,  and  advanced  as  far  as  the  hanksof  the  Hydaspeg. 
Porus  was  enramped  on  the  other  side  of  it,  in  order 
to  dispute  the  passage  with  him;  and  had  posted  at 
the  head  of  his  armv  eighty-five  elephants  of  a  prodi- 
gious size,  and  behind  them  300  chariots,  supported 
by  30,000  foot;  he  had  not  at  most  above  7000  horse. 
This  prince  was  mounted  on  an  elephant  much  larger 
than  any  of  the  rest,  and  be  himself  exceeded  the 
usual  suture  of  men;  so  that,  clothed  in  his  armour, 
glittering  with  gold  and  silver,  he  appeared  at  the 
same  time  terrible  and  majestic.  The  greatness  of 
his  courage  equalled  that  ol  his  stature,  and  lie  was 
•i  wi»e  and  prudent  as  it  was  possible  for  the  mon- 
arch of  so  barbarous  a  people  to  be. 

The  Macedonians  dreaded  not  only  the  enemy,  but 
the  river  they  were  obliged  to  pass.  It  was  four  fur- 
>ongs  wide  (about  400  fathoms,)  and  so  deep  in  every 
part,  that  it  looked  like  a  *t-a,  and  was  no  where  forda- 
Sle.  It  was  vastly  impetuous  notwithstanding  its 
great  breadth;  for  it  rolled  with  as  much  violence, as 
f  it  had  been  confined  to  a  narrow  channt  I:  and  its 
i»ging,  foaming  waves,  which  broke  in  many  places. 
discovere-d  that  it  was  full  of  stones  and  ruck-. 
However,  nothing  was  so  dreadful  a<  the  appearance 
of  tlit  shore,  which  was  quite  covered  with  men,  hor- 
ses, and  elephants.  Those  hideous  animals  stood  like 
go  many  towei  s,  and  the  Indians  exasperated  them, 
in  order  that  the  horrid  cry  they  madf:  might  fill  the 
enemy  with  great  terror.  However,  this  could  not  in- 
timidate an  army  of  men,  whose  courage  was  proof 
Bgain-t  all  attacks,  and  who  were  emboldened  by  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  prosperity;  but  then  they  did 
not  think  it  would  he  possible  for  them,  us  their  bark? 
were  sn  crazy,  to  surmount  the  rapidity  of  the  stream, 
or  land  with  sal't-tv. 

This  river  was  full  of  little  islands,  to  which  the 
Indians  and  Macedonians  used  to  swim,  with  their 
(rnis  over  their  heads;  and  slight  skirmishes  took 
(jla'-t-  evrrv  :lav  in  the  sight  of  the  two  kings,  who 
ivere  well  pleased  to  try  their  strength  in  these  small 
excursions,  and  to  form  a  judgment  from  such  skir- 
mishes of  the  success  of  a  general  battle.  There 
wn-t  two  young  officers  in  Alexander's  army.  Kge«i- 
machtu  and  jN'icanoi,  men  of  equal  intrepidity,  and 
who,  having  been  ever  successful,  despised  dangers 
ol  every  kind.  They  look  with  them  the  bravest 
youths  in  the  whole  nrmv;  and  with  no  other  wea- 
pons than  their  javtlins,  swam  to  an  island  in  which 
several  ol  the  enemy  were  landed;  where,  with  scarce 
anv  other  assistance  but  their  intiep'nlitv,  they  made 
a  great  slaughter.  Alter  this  bold  stroke,  they  might 
hait-  retired  with  glory,  were  it  possible  for  ra-hnt  ?-. 
win  n  siiccc-stnl.  to  keep  within  bounds.  But  a«  they 
waited  with  contempt,  and  an  insulting  air,  for  those 
who  came  to  succour  their  companions,  they  were 
surrounded  by  a  band  of  soldiers,  who  had  swam  un- 
perceived  to  the  island,  and  overwhelmed  with  the 
darts  which  were  shot  from  far.  Those  who  endea- 
voured to  save  themselves  by  swimming,  were  either 
carried  away  by  the  waves,  or  swallowed  up  by  the 
Whirlpool'.  The  courage  of  Porus,  who  saw  all  this 
from  the  shore,  was  surprisingly  increased  by  this 

•JKCCMb 

Alexander  was  in  great  perplexity:  and  finding  he 
Could  not  pass  the  Hvdaspc*  liy  force  of  anus,  he 
therefore  resolved  to  have  recourse  to  artifice.  Ac- 
cordingly he  caused  his  cavalry  to  attfmpt  several 
times  to  pass  it  in  the  night,  and  to  shout  as  il  they 
re-ally  intended  to  lord  the  rivt-r,  nil  things  beingpre- 
pared  for  that  purpose.  Immediately  I'orns  hurried 
thither  with  his  elephants,  but  Alexander  continued 
in  battle  array  on  the  bank.  Tbis  stratagem  having 
ttet  n  attempted  several  times,  and  Porn*  finding  the 
whole  but  mere  noise  and  empty  menac.  s.  hetnok  no 
farther  notice  of  these  motions,  and  only  «ent  .emit-  to 
every  part  of  the  shore.  Alexinder  being  nm\  no 
longet  apprehensive  of  having  the  whole  armv  of 
the  enemy  fa  upon  him,  in  his  attempting  Co  cross 


the   river  in   the   night,  began  to  resolv*  seriously  to 
pass  it. 

There  was  in  the  river,  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  Alexander's  camp,  an  island  of  a  greater  extent 
than  either  of  the  rest,  which  being  covered  with  tree* 
was  well  suited  to  conceal  his  design,  and  therefore 
he  resolved  to  attempt  the  passage  that  way.  How 
ever,  the  better  to  conceal  the  knowledge  of  it  from 
the  enemv,  and  deceive  them  on  this  occasion,  he  left 
Craterns  in  his  camp  with  a  great  part  of  the  army, 
with  orders  for  them  to  make  a  great  noise,  at  a  cer 
tain  time  which  should  be  appointed,  in  order  to  alarm 
the  Indians,  and  make  them  btlieve  that  he  was  pre- 
paring to  cross  the  river;  but  that  lit-  should  not  at- 
tempt this,  till  such  time  as  Porus  should  have  raised 
ins  camp,  and  marched  away  his  elephant*,  either  to 
withdraw  or  advance  towards  those  Macedonians  «  ho 
should  attempt  the  passage.  Between  the  camp  and 
the  island  he  had  posted  Meleager  and  Gorgias  with 
the  foreign  horse  and  foot,  with  orders  for  them  to 
pass  over  in  bodies,  the  instant  they  should  see  him 
engaged  in  battle. 

After  giving  these  orders,  he  took  the  rest  of  hit 
army,  as  well  cavalry  as  infantry;  and,  wheeling  off 
Irom  the  shore,  in  order  to  avoid  being  pt  ret  ived,  he 
advanced  in  the  night-time  towards  the  island  into 
which  he  wa?  resolved  to  go ;  and  the  better  to  deceive 
the  enemy,  Alexander  caused  his  tent  to  be  pitched  in 
the  camp  where  he  had  left  Craterns,  which  was  op- 
posite to  that  of  Porns.  His  life-guards  were  drawn 
up  round,  in  all  the  pomp  and  splendour  with  which 
the  majesty  of  a  great  king  is  usually  surrounded. 
He  also  caused  a  royal  robe  to  be  put  upon  Attnlus, 
who  was  of  the  some  age  with  himself,  and  so  much 
resembled  the  king,  both  in  stature  and  feature*, 
especially  at  so  great  a  distance  as  the  breadth  of  the 
river,  that  the  em-my  might  suppose  Alexander  him- 
self was  on  the  bank,  and  was  attempting1  the  pas-age 
in  that  place.  He,  however,  was  by  this  time  got  to 
the  island  above  mentioned;  and  immediately  landed 
upon  it  from  boats,  with  the  rest  of  his  troops,  whilst 
the  enemv  were  em|>Joyed  in  opposing  Craterus.  But 
on  a  sudden  a  furious  storm  arose,  which  seemed  as  if 
it  would  retard  the  execution  of  his  project,  vet  proved 
of  advantage  to  it;  for  so  fortunate  was  this  prince, 
that  obstacles  changed  into  advantages  and  succours 
in  his  favour.  The  storm  was  succeeded  by  a  very 
violent  shower,  with  impetuous  winds,  flashes  of  light- 
ning and  thunder,  insomuch  that  there  was  no  hearing 
or  seeing  any  thing.  Any  man  but  Alexander  would 
have  abandoned  his  design;  but  he,  on  the  contrary, 
was  animated  by  the  very  danger,  not  to  mention  that 
the  noise,  the  confusion,  and  the  darkness,  assisted  hi* 
passage.  He  thereupon  made  the  signal  for  the  em- 
barkation of  his  troops,  ruul  went  oil  himself  in  the 
first  boat.  It  is  reported  that  it  was  on  this  occasion 
he  cried  out,  "O  Athenians,  could  \  ou  btlieve  that  I 
would  expose  myself  to  such  dangers  to  merit  your 
applause!"  And,  indeed,  nothing  could  contribute 
more  to  eternir.e  his  name,  than  the  having  his  actions 
recorded  by  such  great  historians  as  Thucydides  and 
Xenophon,-'  and  so  anxious  was  he  about  the  charac- 
ter which  should  be  given  him  after  his  death,  that  he 
wished  it  were  possible  for  him  to  return  again  into 
the  world  only  so  long  as  was  necessary  to  know  what 
impression  the  p<  rusal  of  his  history  would  make  on 
the  minds  of  men. 

Scarce  any  person  appeared  to  oppose  their  landing, 
became  Porus  was  wholly  taken  up  with  Cratcrus, 
and  imagined  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  oppose  his 
passage.  Immediately  thi«  general,  pursuant  to  hi» 
orders,  made  a  prodigious  clamour,  and  seemed  dis- 
posed to  attempt  the  passage  of  the  river.  Upon  this 
all  the  boats  came  to  shore,  one  exrrpted,  which  the 
waves  da-hed  to  pieces  against  a  rock.  The  moment 
Alexander  was  landed,  he  drew  up  in  order  of  battle 
his  little  army,  consisting  of  6000  foot  and  5000  horse 
He  him«elf  headed  the  latter:  --m-l  having  commanded 
the  foot  to  make  all  imaginable  de«pa<ch  allerhim,  he 
marched  before.  It  was  hi*  firm  opinion,  that  in  caw 
the  Indians  should  oppose  him  with  their  whole  force 

»  Lurinn.  f»  -'r«rrib  hint    p  (N4. 


584 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


nig  rava.ry  wouid  give  him  infinite  advantage  over 
llit  in;  am!  that,  al  all  eve  nls,  he  might  e  asil>  continue 
fighting  (ill  his  foot  should  come  up;  01,  that  in  case 
the  enemy,  alarmed  at  ihe  news  of  his  having  passed 
llit  river,  should  lly,  it  won  Id  then  be  in  his  power 
to  pursue,  and  make  a  trial  slaughter  of  them. 

I'uni!-,  upon  hearing  that  Alexander  had  crossed  the 
river,  had  sent  against  him  a  detachment, commanded 
by  one  of  his  sons,  of  20(10  horse  and  120  chariots. 
Alexander  imagined  them  at  first  to  be  the  enemy's 
van-guard,  and.  that  the  whole  army  was  behind  them; 
but  being  informed  it  was  but  a  detachment,  he 
charged  th<  in  with  such  vigour,  that  Porus's  son  was 
killed  upon  the  spot,  with  400  horses,  and  all  the 
chariots  were  taken.  Each  of  these  chariots  carried 
fix  men;  two  were  armed  with  bucklers,  two  bowmen 
•al  on  each  side,  and  two  guided  the  chariot,  who 
nevertheless  always  fought  when  the  battle  grew 
warm,  having  a  great  number  of  darts  which  they 
discharged  at  the  ene  my.  But  all  these  did  little  exe- 
cution that  day,  because  the  rain,  which  had  fallen  in 
great  abundance,  had  moistened  the  earth  lo  such  a 


Torus,  upon  receiving  advice  of  the  death  of  his  son, 
the  defeat  of  the  delachme  nt,  and  of  Alexander's  ap- 
proach, was  in  doubt  whether  it  would  be  proper  for 
him  to  continue  in  his  )>nst.  In  cause  Craterus,  with  the 
rest  of  the  Macedonian  army,  made  a  feint  as  if  they 
intended  to  pass  the  river.  However  he  Ht  last  re- 
solved logo  and  meet  Alexander,  whom  he  justly  sup- 
posed to  be  at  the  head  of  the  choicest  troops  of  his 
army.  Accordingly,  leaving  onlv  a  few  elephanls  in 
his  camp,  lo  amuse  ihose  who  were  posted  on  the 
opposite  shore,  he  set  out  with  30,000  foot,  4000  hone, 
300  chariots,  anil  200  elephants.  Being  come  into  a 
firm,  sandy  soil,  into  which  his  horses  and  chariots 
might  wheel  about  with  ease,  he  drew  up  hit  army 
in  battle  array,  with  an  intent  to  wait  the  coming  up 
of  the  em  my.  He  posted  in  front,  and  on  the  first 
line,  all  the  elephants  at  100  feel  distance  one  from 
the  other,  in  order  that  they  mighl  serve  as  a  bul- 
wark lo  his  fool,  who  were  behind,  ll  was  his  opin- 
ion, lhal  the  enemy's  cavalry  would  not  dare  to  en- 
gage in  these  intervals,  because  of  the  fear  their  hor- 
ses would  have  of  the  elephanls;  and  much  less  the 
infantry,  when  they  should  see  thai  of  the  enemy 
posted  behind  the  elephanls,  and  themselves  in  dan- 
eer  of  being  Irod  lo  pieces  by  those  animals.  He 
had  posted  some  of  his  foot  on  the  same  line  with  the 
elephants,  in  order  to  cover  their  right  and  left; 
and  this  infantry  was  covered  by  his  two  wings  of 
horse,  before  which  his  chariols  were  posted.  Such 
was  ihe  order  and  disposition  of  Porus's  army. 

Alexander  being  come  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  halted 
to  wait  the  coming  of  his  foot,  which  marched  with  the 
Utmost  diligence,  and  arrived  a  little  after;  and  in 
order  that  they  mighl  have  lime  lo  lake  brealh,  and 
not  be  led,  fatigued  as  they  were,  against  the  enemy, 
he  caused  his  horse  to  make  a  great  many  evolutions, 
in  order  to  gain  lime.  But  now  every  thing  being 
ready,  and  the  infantry  having  sufficiently  recovered 
their  vigour,  Alexander  gave  the  signal  ol  battle.  He 
did  not  think  proper  to  begin  by  attacking  the  enemy's 
niain  body, where  the  infantry  and  the  elephants  were 
posted,  for  the  very  reason  which  had  made  I'orus 
craw  them  up  in  that  manner:  but  his  cavalry  being 
•tronger,  he  drew  out  the  greatesl  part  of  them;  and 
marching  against  the  left  wing,  sent  Cuenus  with  his 
own  regiment  of  horse,  and  that  of  Demetrius,  to 
charge  them  at  the  same  time;  ordering  him  to  attack 
the  cavalry  on  the  left,  in  the  rear,  while  he  himself 
would  charge  them  both  in  froi<t  and  llank.  Seleucus, 
Anligonus,  and  Tauron,  who  commanded  ihe  foot, 
were  ordered  nol  lo  stir  from  Iheir  posts,  till  Alex- 
ander's cavalry  had  put  thai  of  ihe  enemy,  as  well  as 
their  loot,  into  disorder. 

Being  come  within  arrow-shot,  he  detached  1000 

bowmen  on  horse-back,  with  orders  for  them  to  make 

their  discharge  on  the  horse  of  Poms'*  left  wing,  in 

•  order  to  throw  it  intodisorder,  whilst  he  himselfshould 

charge  this  body  in  dank,  before  il  had  lime  lo  rally. 


The  Indians,  having  closed  their  squadrons,  advanced 
against  Alexander.  At  thai  instant  Cojnus  charged 
them  in  the  rear,  according  to  the  orders  given  him{ 
so  thai  ihe  Indians  were  obliged  lo  face  about  on  all 
sides,  to  defend  themselves  from  the  1000  bowmen, 
and  against  Alexander  and  Coenus.  Alexander,  to 
make  the  best  advantage  of  the  confusion  into  which 
this  sudden  evolution  had  thrown  tht  in,  charged  with 
great  vigour  those  that  made  head  against  him.  who 
being  no  longer  able  to  stand  so  violent  an  attack, 
were  soon  broke, and  retired  behind  the  elephant*, a* 
lo  an  impregnable  rampart.  The  leaders  of  the  el»- 
phants  made  them  advance  against  the  enem\  '3  horse 
but  lhal  very  instant,  the  Macedonian  |>haliinx  moving 
on  a  sudden,  surrounded  those  animals,  and  charged 
with  their  pikes  the  elephants  themselves  and  their 
leaders.  This  battle  was  very  difierent  from  all  ihoM 
which  Alexander  had  hitherto  fought;  for  the  cJe- 
phant?  rushing  upon  the  battalions,  broke,  with  mex« 
pre»»ib|e  fury,  the  thickest  of  them;  when  the  Indian 
horse,  seeing  the  Macedonian  foot  stopped  by  I  he  ele- 
phants, returned  to  the  charge;  however,  that  of  Alex- 
ander being  stronger,  and  having  greater  experience 
in  war,  broke  this  body  a  second  time,  and  obliged  it 
again  to  retire  towards  the  elephants;  upon  wh'un  the 
Macedonian  horse  being  all  united  in  one  body,  spread 
terror  and  confusion  wherever  they  attacked.  The 
elephants  being  all  covered  with  wounds,  and  the 
greatest  part  having  lost  their  leaders,  no  longer  ob- 
served their  usual  order;  but,  frantic  a?  it  were  wilh 
pain,  no  longer  distinguished  friends  from  foes,  but 
running  about  from  place  to  place,  they  overthrew 
every  thing  that  came  in  their  way.  The  Macedo- 
nian;, who  had  purposely  left  a  greater  interval  be- 
tween their  battalions,  either  made  way  for  them 
wherever  they  came  forward,  or  charged  with  darts 
those  that  fear  and  the  tumult  obliged  to  retire.  Alex- 
ander, after  having  surrounded  the  enemy  with  his 
horse,  made  a  signal  to  his  foot  to  march  up  with  all 
imaginable  speed,  in  order  to  make  a  last  effort,  and 
to  fall  upon  them  with  his  whole  force;  all  which 
ihey  executed  very  successfully.  In  this  manner  the 
greatesl  parl  of  the  Indian  cavalry  were  cut  to  pieces; 
ami  a  body  of  their  foot,  which  sustained  no  Us-  loss, 
seeing  themselves  charged  on  all  sides,  at  last  tied. 
Craterus,  who  had  continued  in  the  camp,  with  the 
rest  of  his  army,  seeing  Alexander  engaged  with 
I'orus,  crossed  the  rivei'  and  charging  the  routed 
soldiers  with  his  troops,  who  were  fresh  and  vigorous, 
killed  as  many  enemies  in  the  retreat  as  had  fallen  in 
ihe  battle. 

The  Indians  lost  on  this  occasion  20,000  foot  and 
3000  horse;  not  to  mention  the  chariols  which  were 
all  broken  to  pieces,  and  the  elephants,  all  of  which 
were  either  killed  or  taken.  Porus's  two  sons  fell  in 
this  battle,  with  Spitacus,  governor  of  the  province: 
all  the  colonels  of  horse  and  foot,  and  MOM  who 
guided  the  elephants  and  chariots.  As  for  Alexander, 
he  lost  but  fourscore  of  the  6000  soldiers  who  were  at 
the  first  charge,  ten  bowmen  of  the  horse,  twenty  of 
his  horse  guards,  and  200  common  soldiers. 

Porus,  after  having  performed  all  the  duties  both  of 
a  soldier  and  a  general  in  the  battle,  and  fought  with 
intrepid  braverj  ,  seeing  all  his  horse  defeated  and  the 
greatest  part  of  his  loot,  did  nol  behave  like  the  great 
king  Darius,  who.  on  a  like  di?aster,  was  the  fust  that 
lied  ;  on  the  contrarv,  he  continued  in  the  lie  id  a-  long 
as  one  battalion  or  squadron  stood  their  ground;  but 
at  last,  having  received  a  wound  in  the  shoulder,  he 
retired  upon  his  elephant;  and  was  e-a>ilv  distin- 
guished Irom  ihe  rest,  by  the  greatness  ol  his  stature, 
and  his  unparalleled  bravery.  Alexander,  finding 
who  he  was  by  those  glorious  marks,  and  being  de- 
sirous of  saving  him,  sent  Taxllus  after  him,  because 
he  was  of  the  same  nation.  The  latter  advancing  af 
near  lo  him  as  he  might,  without  running  any  danger 
of  he  ing  wounded,  called  out  to  him  to  stop,  in  order 
to  hear  the  message  he  had  brought  him  lioin  Alex- 
ander. Porus  turning  hack,  and  se  eing  it  was  Tax- 
ilus,  his  old  enemy:  "How!"  says  he  "is  it  not 
Taxilu*  that  calls,  that  traitor  to  his  country  and 
kingdom?"  Immediate  ly  alter  which  he  would  have 
transfixed  him  wilh  his  dart,  hud  he  not  insiuuilj 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


585 


•Hired.     Notwithstanding  this,  Alexander  being  still 
desirous  to  save  so  brave  a  prince,  despatched  other 
Officers,  among  whom  was  Mi-roe,  one  of  his  intimate 
friends,  who  besought  him,  in  the  strongest  terms,  to 
wait  upon  a  conqueror   altogether  worthy  of   him. 
Alter   much   entreaty,  Porns  consented,  and   sccorti- 
inglv  ?ft  forward.     Alexander,  who  had  been  told  of 
his  coming,  advanced  forwards  in  order  to  receive  him 
with  some  of  his  train.     Being  come  pretty  near,  Alex- 
ander stopped,  purposely  to  take  a  view  of  his  stature 
and  noble  mien,  he  being  above  five  cubits  in  height.1 
Porus  did  not  seem  dejected  at  his  misfortune,  but 
ca:i:e    up  with  a  resolute  countenance,  like  a  valiant 
warrior,  whose  courage  in  defending  his  dominions 
ought  to  acquire  him  the  esteem  of  the  brave  prince  | 
who  had  conquered  him.     Alexander  spoke  first, and 
with  an  august  and  gracious  air,  asked   him  how  he  I 
desired  to  be  treated?     "Like  a   king,"  replied   Po-  I 
rus.      "  But,"    continued    Alexander,  "do   you   ask  ' 
nothing  more?"     "No,"  replied  Porus;  "all  things 
are  included  in  that  single  word."    Alexander,  struck 
with  this  greatness  of  soul,  which  seemed  heightened  | 
by  the  distress  of  that  prince,  did  not  only  restore  him 
his  kingdom,  but  annexed  other  provinces  to  it,  and  i 
treated   him  with  the  highest   testimonies  of  honour, 
esteem,  and  friendship.     Porus  was  faithful  to  him  till 
his  death.     It  is  hard  to  say,  whether  the  victor  or  the 
vanquished  best  deserved  praise  on  this  occasion. 

Alexander  built  a  city  on  the  spot  where  the  battle 
had  been  fought,  and  another  in  that  place  where  he 
had  crossed  the  river.  He  called  the  one  Nicaea,  from 
his  victory;  and  the  other  Bucephalia,  in  hon-iur  of 
his  horse,  who  died  there,  not  of  his  wounds,  but  of 
old  age.  Alter  having  paid  the  last  duties  to  such 
of  his  soldiers  as  had  Tost  their  lives  in  battle,  he  so- 
lemnized games,  and  offered  up  sacrifices  of  thanks, 
in  the  place  where  he  had  passed  th^e  Hydaspes. 

This  prince  did  not  know  to  whom  he  was  indebted 
for  hi*  victories.  We  are  astonished  at  the  rapidity 
of  Alexander's  conquests;  the  ease  with  which  he 
surmounts  the  greatest  obstacles,  and  forces  almost 
nipregnable  cities:  the  uninterrupted  and  unheard-of 
Vlicity  that  extricates  him  out  of  those  dangers  into 
which  his  rashness  plunges  him,  and  in  which,  one 
would  have  concluded,  he  must  a  hundred  times  have 
perished.  But  to  unravel  these  mysterious  kinds  of 
events,  several  of  which  are  repugnant  to  the  usual 
course  of  things,  we  must  go  back  to  a  superior  cause, 
unknown  to  the  profane  historians  and  to  Alexander 
himself.  This  monarch  was,  like  Cyrus,  the  minister 
and  instrument  of  the  Sovereign  Disposer  of  empires, 
who  raises  and  destroys  them  at  pleasure.  He  had 
received  the  same  commission  to  overthrow  the  Per- 
sian and  eastern  empires,  as  Cyrus  to  destroy  that  of 
Babylon.  The  same  Power  conducted  their  enter- 
prises, assured  them  of  success,  protected  and  pre- 
served thorn  from  all  dangers,  till  they  had  executed 
their  commission,  and  completed  their  ministry.  We 
may  apply  to  Alexander,  the  words  which  God  spake 
concerning  Cyrus  ii  Isaiah.*  "  Cyrus,  whose  right 
hand  I  have  holden,  to  subdue  nations  before  him; 
and  I  will  loose  the  loins  of  kings,  to  open  before  him 
the  two-leaved  gates;  and  the  gates  shall  not  be  shut: 
I  will  go  before  thee,  and  make  the  crooked  places 
straight:  I  will  break  in  pieces  the  gates  of  brass,  and 
jut  in  sunder  the  bars  of  iron.  And  I  will  give  thee  the 
treasuns  of  darkness,  and  hidden  riches  of  secret 
places.  —  I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hadst  not  known 
me."  This  is  the  true  and  only  cause  of  the  incredi- 
ble success  with  which  this  conqueror  was  attended; 
of  his  unparalleled  bravery;  the  affection  his  soldiers  j 
had  for  him;  that  anticipation  of  good  fortune,  and  ] 
that  assurance  of  success,  which  astonished  his  most 
intrepid  captains. 

SECTION  XVI.— ALEXANDER  ADVANCES  INTO  IN- 
DIA. A  DIGRESSION  RELATING  TO  THE  BRACH- 
MANS. THAT  PRINCE  RESOLVES  TO  MARCH  AS 
FAR  AS  THE  GANGES.  WHICH  RAISES  A  GKNER- 
AL  DISCONTENT  IN  HIS  ARMY.  REMONSTRAN- 
CES I  KING  MADE  TO  HIM  ON  THIS  ACCOUNT.  ' 
HE  LAVS  ASIDE  HIS  DESIGN.  AND  IS  CONTENTED 

«  Seven  foot  and  a  half.  »  Chap,  xlv.— 5. 

VOL.   I.— 74 


WITH  GOING  NO  FARTHER  THAN  THE  OCEAW 
HE  SUBDL'ES  ALL  OLSTACLES  IN  HIS  WAI 
THITHER,  AND  IS  EXPOSED  TO  GREAT  DANGER 
AT  THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  CITY  OE  THE  OXYDRA- 
CJE;  AND  ARRIVING  AT  LAST  AT  THE  OCEAN, 
HE  AFTERWARDS  PREPARES  FOR  HIS  RETURN 
INTO  EUROPE. 

ALEXANDER,9  after  his   famous 

victory  over  Porus,  advanced  into  A.  M.  3677. 
India,  where  he  subdued  agrtat  ma-  Ant.  J.  C.  327. 
ny  nations  and  cities.  He  looked 
upon  himself  as  a  conqueror  by  profession  as  well  HI 
by  his  dignity,  and  engaged  every  day  in  new  exploits 
with  so  much  ardour  ami  vivaiity,  that  he  seemed  to 
fancy  himself  invested  with  a  p<  r-nn.il  commission,  and 
that  there  was  an  immediate  obligation  upon  him  to 
storm  all  cities,  to  lay  waste  all  provinces,  to  extirpate 
all  nations,  which  should  refuse  his  yoke;  and  thbt  he 
should  have  considered  himself  as  guilty  of  a  crime, 
had  he  forborne  visiting  every  corner  of  the  earth,  and 
carrying  terror  and  desolation  wherever  he  went.  He 
passed  the  Acesines,  and  afterwards  the  Hydraotes, 
two  considerable  rivers.  Advice  was  then  brought 
him,  that  a  great  number  of  free  Indians  had  made  a 
confederacy  to  defend  their  liberties;  and  among  the 
rest,  the  Catha?ans,who  were  the  most  valiant  and  most 
skilful  ol  those  nations  in  the  art  of  war;  and  that  they 
were  encamped  near  a  strong  city,  called  Sangala. 
Alexander  set  out  against  these  Indians,  defeated  them 
in  a  pitched  battle,  took  the  city,  and  razed  it  to  the 
very  foundations. 

One  day,  as  he  was  riding  at  the  head  of  his  army, 
some  philosophers,4  called  Brachmans  in  the  language 
of  thai  country,  were  conversing  together  as  thej  were 
walking  in  a  meadow.  The  instant  they  perceived 
him,  they  all  stamped  against  the  ground  with  their 
feet.  Alexander,  surprised  at  this  extraordinary  ges- 
ture, demanded  the  cause  of  it.  They  answered,  point- 
ing to  the  ground  with  their  fingers,  "  That  no  man 
possessed  anymore  of  that  element  than  he  could  en- 
joy: that  the  only  diflerence  between  him  and  other 
men,  was,  that  he  was  more  restless  and  Mubilioua  than 
they ,  and  overran  all  seas  and  lands,  inert  ly  to  do  harm 
to  others  and  himself:  and  yet — he  would  die  at  last, 
and  possess  no  greater  part  of  the  earth  than  was  ne- 
cessary for  his  interment."  The  king  was  nut  dis- 
pleased at  this  answer:  but  he  was  hurried  on  by  the 
torrent  of  glory,  and  his  actions  were  the  very  reverse 
of  what  he  approved.  i 

These  Brachmans,  says  Arrian,  are  held  in  great 
veneration  in  their  country.  They  do  not  pay  any 
tribute  to  the  prince. but  assist  him  with  their  counsel, 
and  perform  the  same  offices  as  the  Magi  do  to  the 
kings  of  Persia.  They  assist  at  the  public  sacrifices; 
and  if  a  person  desires  to  sacrifice  in  private,  one  of 
these  must  he  present,  otherwise  the  Indians  are  per- 
suaded the  sacrifices  would  not  be  agreeable  to  the 
gods.  They  apply  themselves  particularly  to  consult- 
ing the  stars;  none  but  themselves  exercise  the  art  of 
divination;  and  they  foretell,  chiefly,  the  change  of 
the  weather  and  of  the  seasons.  If  a  Brachman  ha* 
failed  thrice  in  his  predictions,  he  is  silenced  forever. 

Their  sentiments,  according  to  Strabo,  are  not  very 
different  from  those  of  the  Greeks.  They  believe  tha't 
the  world  had  a  beginning;  that  it  will  end;  that  its 
forcn  is  circular;  that  it  was  created  by  God,  who 
presides  over  and  fills  it  with  his  majesty:  and  that 
water  is  the  principle  of  all  things.  With  regard  to 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  the  punishment  of  the 
wicked  in  hell,  they  follow  the  doctrine  of  Plato;  in- 
termixing with  it,  like  that  philosopher. some  fictions, 
in  order  to  express  or  describe  those  punishments. 

Several  among  them  go  always  naked,  whence  the 
Greeks  gave  them  the  name  ot'G\  mnosophists.  Many 
incredible  particulars  are  related  concerning  the  aus- 
terity ol  their  lives,  and  their  prodigious  patience. 
Their  only  meat  and  drink  is  roots  and  water.  As 
they  admit  the  metempsychosis,  and  believe  that  the 


•  a.  Curt,  lib  i*  rap.  1. 

«  Arrian.  lib.  vii.  p  'JT5.  2TC.  Id.  in  Indir.  p.  3S4 
Strah.  lib.  xv.  p.  715— *17.  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  701.  Uuint 
Curt.  lib.  viii  c.9. 


586 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


•mils  of  men  transmigrate  from  their  bodies  into  those 
of  beasts,  they  abstain  iroin  the  flesh  of  animal?.  It  is 
thought  that  Pythagoras  borrowed  this  doctrine  from 
the  Brachmans.  They  continue  whole  days  standing 
with  their  faces  towards  the  sun,  and  (hat  in  the  sea- 
son when  tin-  luminary  darts  its  ravswith  the  greatest 
violence.  Persuaded  that  it  is  beneath  the  dignity  of 
a  man  to  wait  calmly  for  death,  when  he  finds  himself 
oppressed  by  age  or  sickness,  they  hold  it  glorious  to 
anticipate  their  last  hour,  and  burn  themselves  alive; 
and,  indeed,  they  pay  no  honours  to  those  who  die 
merely  of  old  age;  and  imagine  they  would  pollute 
their  funeral  pile,  and  the  fire  that  is  to  burn  them  to 
ashes,  should  they  go  into  it  otherwise  than  full  of  life 
and  vigour.  Other  Brachmans,  more  judicious  and 
humane  than  the  former,  live  in  cities,  and  associate 
with  mankind:  and  so  far  from  considering  self-mur- 
der as  a  virtuous  or  brave  action,  they  look  upon  it  as 
a  weakness  in  man,  not  to  wait  patiently  the  stroke 
of  death,  and  as  a  crime  to  dare  to  anticipate  the  will 
of  the  gods. 

Cicero  admires,  in  his  Tusculan  questions,  the  in- 
vincible patience,  not  only  of  the  Indian  sages,  but 
also  of  the  women  of  that  country,1  who  used  to  con- 
test for  the  honour  of  dying  with  their  common  hus- 
band. This  privilege  was  reserved  for  that  wile  whom 
the  husband  had  loved  most  affectionately;  and  was 
given  in  her  favour  by  the  sentence  of  persons  ap- 
pointed for  that  purpose,  who  never  gave  judgment 
till  such  time  as  they  had  made  a  strict  examination, 
and  heard  the  allegations  on  all  sides.  The  wife  on 
whom  the  preference  was  bestowed,  ran  to  meet  death, 
and  ascended  the  funeral  pile  with  incredible  resolu- 
tion and  joy:  whilst  the  surviving  wives  withdrew  in 
the  deepest  transports  of  affliction,  and  with  their  eyes 
bathed  in  tears. 

The  description  which  Porphyryihas  left  us  of  these 
philosophers,  resembles  in  many  particulars  that  given 
above.  According  to  this  author,  the  Brachmans  live 
on  herbs,  roots,  and  fruits.  They  abstain  from  animals 
of  every  kind,  and  if  they  touch  any,  they  thereby 
render  themselves  unclean.  They  spend  thegreates't 
part  of  the  day  and  night  in  singing  hymns  in  honour 
of  their  gods.  They  fast  and  pray  perpetually.  The 
greatest  part  of  them  live  alone,  and  in  the  deepest 
solitude,  and  neither  marry  nor  possess  any  thing. 
They  wish  for  nothing  so  earnestly  as  death;  and 
considering  this  life  as  a  burden,  they  wait  impatiently 
for  the  moment  when  the  soul  will  be  separated  from 
the  body. 

These  philosophers  exist  still  in  India,  where  they 
are  called  Bramins:  and  retain,  in  many  points,  the 
tradition  and  tenets  of  the  ancient  Brachmans. 

AJe\Hn<!er  passing  near  a  city  wherein  several  of 
these  Brachmans  dwelt,  was  very  desirous  to  converse 
with  them,  and,  if  possible,  to  prevail  with  some  of 
them  to  follow  him.  Being  informed  that  these  philo- 
sophers never  made  visits,  but  that  those  who  had  an 
inclination  to  see  them  must  go  to  their  houses,  he 
concluded  that  it  would  be  beneath  his  dignity  to  go 
to  them,  and  not  just  to  force  these  sages  to  any  thing 
contrary  lo  their  IHWS  and  usages.  Onesicritus,  who 
was  a  great  philosopher,  and  had  been  a  disciple  of 
Diogenes  the  Cynic,  was  deputed  to  them.  He  met 
not  far  from  the  city  wjth  fifteen,  who  from  morning 
till  evening  stood  always  naked,  in  the  same  posture 
in  which  they  had  at  first  placed  themselves,  and 
afterwards  returned  to  the  city  at  night.  He  addressed 
himself  first  to  Calantis,  and  told  him  the  occasion  of 
his  coming.  The  latter,  gazing  upon  OMftcritOl'l 
clothes  and  shoes,  could  not  forbear  laughing;  after 
which  he  told  him,  "That  anciently  the  earth  had 
been  covered  with  barlev  and  wheat,  as  it  was  at  that 
time  with  dust;  that  beside*  water,  the  rivers  used  to 
flow  with  milk,  honey,  oil,  and  wine:  that  man's  guilt 
had  occasioned  a  change  of  this  happy  condition;  and 


>  Mulierei  in  India,  cum  cst  cujusque  rarum  vir  mor- 
tuu«,  in  cerlampn  juriiriumque  vcniunt,  qunm  plurimdm 
ille  dilexorit :  plurc*  enim  »inpuln  solrnl  egne  nuptc 
due  cut  victrix,  ei  Ida,  prosequtnlibuB  sui«  Una  cum 
»iru  in  rogum  imponitur  •  ilia  victa  iixrsta  discedit.  Tu*c. 
Qufst.  lib.  v  n.  ~K. 

•  Lib.  da  Abitin.  Aiiinal. 


that  Jupiter,  to  punish  their  ingratitude,  had  sentenced 
them  to  a  long,  painful  labour.  That  their  repentance 
afterwards  moving  him  to  compassion,  he  had  restored 
their  former  abundance;  however,  that  by  the  course 
ol  things,  they  setmed  to  be  returning  to  their  ancient 
confusion."  This  relation  shows  evidently,  that  these 
philosophers  had  some  notion  ol  the  felicity  ol  the  first 
man,  and  of  the  toil  to  which  he  had  been  sentenced 
for  his  sin. 

After  this  conversation,  Onesicritus  spoke  to  Man- 
danis,  the  eldest,  and,  as  it  were,  the  superior  of  the 
band.  This  Brachman  said,  "That  he  thought  Alex- 
cinder  worthy  of  admiration,  in  seeking  thus  lor  wis- 
dom in  the  midst  of  the  cares  of  his  government:  that 
he  was  the  first,8  who  had  e\er  united  in  himself  the 
two  characters  of  conqueror  and  philosopher;  that  it 
were  to  be  wished,  that  the  latter  character  were  the 
attribute  of  those  who  could  inspire  the  wisdom  which 
they  themselves  possessed,  and  enjoin  it  by  their  au- 
thority." He  added,  that  he  could  not  conceive  the 
motive  which  had  prompted  Alexander  to  undertake 
so  long  and  laborious  a  journey,  nor  what  he  came  in 
search  of,  in  so  remote  a  country. 

Onesicritus  was  very  urgent  with  both  of  them  to 
quit  their  austere  way  of  lite,  and  follow  the  fortune  of 
Alexander,  saying,  that  they  would  find  in  him  a  ge- 
nerous master  and  benefactor,  who  would  htap  upon 
them  honours  and  riches  of  all  kinds.  Then  Mancianis, 
assuming  a  haughty,  philosophical  tone,  answered, 
"  That  he  did  not  want  Alexander,  and  was  the  son 
of  Jupiter  as  well  as  himself:  that  he  was  exempted 
from  want,  desire,  or  fear;  that  so  long  as  he  should 
live,  the  earth  would  furnish  him  all  things  necessary 
for  his  subsistence,  and  that  death  would  rid  him  ol  a 
troublesome  companion  (meaning  his  body,)  and  set 
him  at  full  liberty."  Calanus  was  more  tractable; 
and,  notwithstanding  the  opposition,  and  even  the 
prohibition,  of  his  superior,  who  reproached  him  for 
his  abject  spirit,  in  stooping  so  low  as  to  serve  another 
master  besides  God,  he  followed  Onesicritus,  and 
went  to  Alexander's  court,  who  received  him  with 
great  demonstrations  of  joy. 

We  find  by  a  circumstance  which  history  has  re- 
corded, that  this  people  used  often  to  employ  parable! 
and  similitudes  lor  convej  ing  their  thoughts.  One 
day  as  he  was  discoursing  with  Alexander,  upon  the 
maxims  of  wise  policy  and  a  prudent  administration, 
he  exhibited  to  that  prince  a  sensible  image  and  a 
natural  emblem  of  his  empire.  He  laid  upon  the 
ifround  a  great  ox-hide,  which  was  very  dry  and 
shrunk  up,  and  then  set  his  foot  upon  one  end  of  it. 
The  hide  being  pressed  so  gave  way,  and  all  the  other 
ends  flew  up:  going  thus  quite  round  the  hide,  and 
pressing  the  several  edges  of  it,  he  made  him  observe, 
that  whilst  he  lowered  it  on  one  side  all  the  rest  rose 
up,  till  treading  at  last  upon  the  middle,  the  hide  fell 
equally  on  all  sides.  By  this  image  he  hinted  to  him 
that  it  would  be  proper  for  him  to  reside  in  the  centre 
of  his  dominions,  and  not  undertake  such  long  jour- 
neys. \Ve  shall  soon  show  the  reader  the  manner  in 
which  this  philosopher  ended  his  days. 

Alexander4  being  determined  to  continue  the  war 
as  long  as  he  should  meet  with  new  nations,  and  to 
look  upon  them  as  enemies  whilst  they  should  live 
independently  of  him,  was  meditating  about  |ins>ing 
the  Hvphasis.  He  was  told  that  after  passing  that 
river,  he  must  travel  eleven  days  through  deserts,  and 
that  then  he  would  arrive  at  the  Ganges,  thegreatert 
river  in  all  India.  That  farther  in  the  country  lived 
the  Gangaridae  and  the  Prasii,  whose  king  was  pre- 
paring to  oppose  his  entering  his  dominions,  at  the 
head  of  20,000  horse,  and  200,000  fool,  reinforced  by 
2000  chariots;  and,  which  struck  the  greatest  terror, 
with  3000  elephants.  A  report  of  this  bting  spread 
through  the  army,  struck  ali  the  soldiers  with  conster 
nation,  and  raised  a  general  murmur.  The  Mncedo 
nians,  who,  alter  having  traversed  so  many  countries 
and  being  grown  gray  in  the  field,  were  im-e-santly 
directing  their  eyes  and  wishes  towards  their  dtar 


. 

«  Quint.  Curt.  ).  ix.  c.  1—9.  Arrian.  I.  v.  p.  i!21— 234.  * 
1.  vi.  p  itS-aSi).  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  6UU.  701.  IJiod.  )  xvii 
p.  55'J— 570.  Ju-tin.  1.  xii.  c.  9.  ID. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


587 


»ativ«  country,  made  loud  complaints  that  Alexander 
•hould  every  day  heap  war  upon  war,  and  danger  on 
danger.  T&ey  had  undergone,  but  just  before,  inex- 
pressible fatigue;,  having  been  exposed  to  rain,  ac- 
companied with  storms  and  thunder,  for  above  two 
months.  Some  bewailed  their  calamities  in  such 
terms  as  raised  compassion;  others  insolently  cried 
•loud,  that  they  would  march  no  farther. 

Alexander,  being  informed  of  this  tumult,  and  learn- 
ing that  secret  assemblies  were  held  in  his  camp,  to 
prevent  the  ill  consequences  of  them,  gent  for  the 
officers  into  his  tent,  and  commanding  them  to  call 
the  soldiers  together,  he  m»de  the  following  speech: 
"  I  am  not  ignorant,  O  soldiers,  that  the  Indian?  have 
ipresd  abroad  many  reports,  pur|>osely  to  terrify  us; 
but  such  discourses  and  artifices  are  not  unusual  to 
you.  Thus  the  Persians  described  the  straits  of  Cili- 
cia,  the  vast  plains  of  Mesopotamia,  the  rivers  Tigris 
and  Euphrates,  as  so  many  insurmountable  difficul- 
ties, and  yet  your  bravery  conquered  them.  Do  you 
repent  you  have  followed  me  thus  far?  A*yourglo- 
rious  deeds  have  subdued  for  you  a  multitude  of  pro- 
vinces; as  you  hare  extended  your  conquests  beyond 
the  laxartes  and  mount  Caucasus;  as  you  see  the 
rivers  ol  India  flow  through  the  midst  ofyour  empire; 
why  are  you  afraid  of  crossing  the  Hvphasis,  and  of 
telling  up  your  trophies  on  the  banks  of  it,  as  on  those 
of  the  Hydaspeg?  What!  can  the  elephants,  whose 
number  is  so  falsely  augmented,  terrify  you  to  such  a 
degree?  But  has  not  experience  taught  vou,  that 
they  are  more  destructive  to  their  own  masters  than 
to  the  enemy?  Endeavours  are  used  to  intimidate 
you  by  the  dreadful  idea  of  innumerable  armies;  but 
are  they  more  numerous  than  those  of  Darius?  It  is 
sure  too  late  for  you  to  count  the  legions  of  the  ene- 
my, alter  your  victories  have  made  Asia  a  desert.  It 
was  when  you  crossed  the  Htllesp  nt  that  you  ought 
to  have  reflected  on  the  small  number  of  our  force*: 
but  now  the  Scythians  form  part  of  our  army;  the 
Bactrians,  the  Sogdians,  and  the  Dahse,  are  with  us, 
and  fight  for  our  glory.  I,  however,  do  not  depend  on 
those  barbarians.  It  is  on  you  only  that  I  rely;  your 
victorious  arms  alone  are  present  to  my  imagination: 
and  your  courage  alone  ensures  me  success.  So  long 
as  I  shall  be  surrounded  with  you  in  fight,  I  shall  not 
have  any  occasion  to  count  the  number  of  MV  troops 
nor  that  of  the  enemy,  provided  you  go  on  to  battle 
with  the  same  marks  of  joy  and  confidence  you  have 
hitherto  discovered.  Not  only  our  glory,  but  even  our 
iafety,  is  at  slake.  Should  we  now  retreat,  it  will  be 
supposed  that  we  fly  before  our  er.emies,  and  from 
that  moment  we  shall  appear  BS  mean  as  the  enemy 
will  be  judged  formidable;  for  you  are  sensible,  tha't 
in  war  reputation  is  every  thing.  It  is  in  my  |x>wer 
to  make  use  of  authority,  ami  yet  I  employ  entreaties 
only.  Do  not  abandon  (I  conjure  you,)  I  do  not  say 
your  king  and  master,  but  your  pupil  and  companion 
in  arms.  Do  not  break  to  pieces  in  my  hand  that 
glorious  palm,  which  will  soon,  units*  envy  rob  me  of 
•o  great  a  glory,  equal  me  to  Hercules  and  to  Bac- 
chus." As  the  soldier*  stood  with  their  eyes  cast  on 
the  ground,  and  did  not  once  open  their  lips,  "  What!" 
continued  he,  "do  I  then  speak  to  the  deaf?  Will  no 
one  li-ten  to  me,  nor  condescend  to  answer?  Alas! 
I  am  abandoned,  I  am  betrayed,  I  am  delivered  up  to 
the  enemy.  But — I  will  advance  still  farther,  though 
I  go  alone.  The  Scythians  and  Bactrians,  more  faith- 
ful than  you,  will  follow  me  withersoever  I  lead 
tlif  in.  Return  then  to  your  country,  and  boast,  ye 
cowardly  deserters  of  your  king,  that  you  hare  aban- 
doned him.  As  for  myself,  I  will  here  meet  either 
with  the  victory  you  despair  of.  or  with  a  glorious 
death,  which  henceforward*  ought  to  be  tl.e  sole  ob- 
ject of  my  wisht-s." 

Notwithstanding  this  lively,  pathftic  gpcech,  the 
ioldiers  still  kept  a  profound  silence  They  waited 
in  expectation  of  hearinsr  their  commiinders  and  chief 
officers  remonstrate  to  the  king,  that  their  a.lection 
was  as  strong  as  ever;  but  that  as  their  bodif  i  were 
covered  with  wounds,  and  worn  out  with  toiU,  it  would 
be  impossible  for  them  to  continue  vhe  war.  How- 
evrr,  not  one  of  them  presumed  to  addre«s  him  in  their 
favour.  The  example  of  Clitus,  and  that  of  Cullii- 


thenes,  were  still  recent.  The  officers,  who  were  thea 
with  him,  had  a  hundred  times  ventured  their  lives  in 
battle  for  their  prince;  but  they  had  not  the  courage 
to  hazard  the  losing  of  their  fortunes  by  telling  him 
the  truth.  Whilst  therefore  the  soldiers,  as  well  ai 
officers,  continued  dumb,  without  once  daring  to  lift 
up  their  eyes,  there  rose  on  a  sudden  a  murmur,  which 
increasing  by  insensible  degrees, broke  into  such  deep 
groans  and  floods  of  tears,  that  the  king  himself, 
whose  anger  was  now  changed  into  compassion, 
could  not  forbear  weeping. 

At  last,  whiUt  the  whole  assembly  were  in  tears, 
and  in  deep  silence,  Ccenus  took  courage,  and  drew 
near  to  the  throne,  discovering  by  his  air  and  action, 
that  be  desired  to  speak.  And  when  the  soldiers  saw 
him  take  off  his  helmet,  that  being  the  custom  when 
any  person  spoke  to  the  king,  they  besought  him  to 
plead  the  cause  of  the  army;  and  accordingly  he 
spolte  as  follows:  "  No,  Sir,  we  are  not  changed  wilt 
regard  to  our  affection  for  you:  God  forbid  that  so 
great  a  calamity  should  ever  befall  us.  We  still  have 
and  shall  always  retain  the  same  zeal,  the  same  affec- 
tion and  fidelity.  We  are  ready  to  follow  you  at  the 
hazard  of  our  lives,  and  to  march  whithersoever  you 
shall  think  fit  to  lead  us.  But  if  your  soldiers  may  he 
allowed  to  lay  before  you  their  sentiments  sincerely, 
and  without  disguise,  they  beseech  you  to  condescend 
so  far  as  to  give  ear  to  their  respectful  complaints, 
which  nothing  but  the  most  extreme  necessity  could 
have  extorted1  from  them.  The  greatness.  Sir,  ofyour 
exploits  has  conquered,  not  only  pur  enemies,  but 
even  your  soldiers  themselves.  We  have  clone  all 
that  it  was  possible  for  men  to  do.  We  have  crossed 
seas  and  land.  Wo  shall  soon  have  marched  to  the 
end  of  the  world;  and  you  are  meditating  the  con- 
quest of  another,  by  going  in  search  of  new  Indiat, 
unknown  to  the  Indians  themselves.  Such  a  thought 
may  be  worthy  of  your  valour,  but  it  surpasses  ours, 
and  our  strength  still  more.  Behold  those  ghastly 
faces,  and  those  bodies  covered  over  with  wounds  and 
scars.  You  are  sensible  how  numerous  we  were  at 
your  first  setting  out,  and  you  see  what  now  remains 
of  us.  The  few,  who  have  escaped  to  many  toils  and 
dangers,  have  neither  courage  nor  strength  enough  to 
followyou.  All  of  them  longto  revisit  their  relation! 
and  country,  and  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  fruit  of  their 
labours  and  your  victories.  Forgive  them  a  desire  na- 
tural to  all  nien.  I  twill  be  glorious,  Sir,  for  you  to  have 
fixed  such  boundaries  to  your  fortune,  as  only  your 
moderation  could  prescribe  you;  and  to  have  vanquish- 
ed yourself,  after  having  conquered  all  your  enemies." 

CUMIUS  had  no  sooner  spoken,  but  there  were  heard, 
on  all  sides,  cries  and  contused  voices,  intermixed 
with  tears,  calling  upon  the  king  as  their  lord  and  their 
father.  Afterwards  all  the  rest  of  the  officers,  espe- 
cially those  whose  age  gave  them  a  greater  authority, 
and  a  fairer  excuse  for  the  freedom  they  took,  made 
the  same  humble  request;  but  still  the  king  would 
not  comply  with  it.  It  must  cost  a  monarch  many 
panga,  before  he  can  prevail  wilh  himself  to  comply 
with  things  repugnant  to  his  inclination.  Alexander 
therefore  shut  himself  up  two  days  in  bis  tent,  without 
once  speaking  to  any  one,  not  even  to  his  most  fa- 
miliar friends,  in  order  to  see  whether  some  change 
might  not  be  wrought  in  the  army,  a*  frequently  hap- 
pen* on  such  occasions.  But  finding  it  would  be  im- 
possible io  rh^::ge  the  resolution  of  the  soldiers,  h« 
commanded  them  to  prepare  for  their  return.  This 
news  filled  the  whole  army  with  inexpressible  jdy; 
and  Alexander  never  appeared  greater,  or  more  glo- 
rious, than  on  this  day,  in  which  he  condescended,  for 
the  sake  of  his  subjects,  to  sacrifice  some  part  of  his 
glory  and  grandeur.  The  whole  camp  echoed  with 
praises  and  blessings  of  Alexander,  for  having  suffer- 
ed himself  to  be  overcome  by  hi*  own  arn.y,  who  waj 
invincible  by  the  lest  of  the  world.  No  triumph  i» 
comparable  'to  those  acclamations  and  applauses  that 
come  from  the  heart,  and  v.  hich  are  the  lively  and  sin- 
cere overflowings  of  It ;  and  it  is  great  pity  that  prince* 
are  not  more  affected  with  them. 

Alexander  had  not  spent  above 
three  or  four  months,  at    most,  in         A.    M.    3678, 
conquering  all  the  country  between     Ant.  J,  C.  3t& 


558 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


the  InJus  and  the  Hyphasis,  called  to  this  day  The 
Penjnh,  which  is,  the  Jive  water*,  from  the  five  rivers 
winch  water  it.  Bel'ore  his  getting  out,  he  raised 
twelve  altars,  to  serve  as  so  many  trophies  and 
thanksgivings  for  the  victories  he  hud  obtained. 

These  instances  of  gratitude  towards  the  gods,  were 
attended  with  n:»rks  of  vanity  carried  to  an  excess 
almost  incredible.  The  altars  which  he  erected  in 
their  honour  were  seventy-five  feet  high.  He  caused 
a  camp  to  be  marked  out,  three  times  as  large  again 
as  his  own,  and  surrounded  it  with  fosses  filly  feet  in 
depth  bv  ten  broad.  He  ordered  the  foot  to  prepare, 
and  leave  each  in  his  tent  two  beds,  seven  feet  and  a 
half  in  length;  and  the  cavalry  to  make  mangers  for 
the  horses  of  twice  the  usual  dimensions.  Every 
thing  else  was  in  proportion.  Alexander's  views  in 
these  orders,  which  flowed  from  an  extravagance  of 
vanity,  was  to  leave  posterity  monuments  of  his  heroic 
%nd  more  than  human  grandeur,  and  to  have  it  be- 
lieved, that  himself  and  big  followers  were  superior 
to  all  other  mortals. 

He  afterwards  crossed  the  Hydraotes,  and  left  Po- 
ms all  the  lands  he  had  conquered,  as  far  as  the  Hy- 
phasis. He  also  reconciled  this  monarch  with  Taxilus, 
and  settled  a  peace  between  them  by  means  of  an 
alliance  equally  advantageous  to  both.  From  thence 
he  went  and  encamped  on  the  banks  of  the  Acesines;1 
but  great  rains  having  made  this  rner  overflow  its 
banks,  and  the  adjacent  countries  being  underwater, 
he  was  obliged  to  remove  his  camp  to  a  higher  ground. 
Here  a  fit  of  sickness  carried  oft  Ccenus,  whose  loss 
was  bewailed  by  the  king  and  the  whole  army.  There 
was  not  a  greater  officer  among  the  Macedonians,  and 
he  had  distinguished  himself  in  a  very  peculiar  man- 
ner in  every  battle  in  which  he  engaged.  He  was  one 
of  those  singularly  good  men,  zealous  for  the  public 
welfare,  all  whose  actions  are  free  from  self-interested 
or  ambitious  views,  and  who  bear  so  great  a  love  to 
their  king,  as  to  dare  to  tell  him  the  truth,  be  the  con- 
sequence what  it  will.  But  now  Alexander  was  pre- 
paring for  his  departure. 

His  fleet  consisted  of  800  vessels,  as  well  galleys  ag 
boats,  to  carry  the  troops  and  provisions.  Every  thing 
being  ready,  the  whole  army  embarked,  about  the  set. 
ting  of  the  Pleiades,  or  seven  stars,  according  to  Aris- 
tobulus.  that  is,  about  the  end  of  October.  The  fifth 
day  the  fleet  arrived  where  the  Hydaspesand  Acesme* 
mix  their  streams.  Here  the  ships  were  very  much 
shuttered,  because  these  rivers  unite  with  such  prodi- 
gious rapidity,  that  as  great  storms  arise  in  this  part  as 
in  the  open  sea.  At  last  he  came  into  the  country  of 
the  Oxydracae  and  the  Malli,  the  most  valiant  people 
in  those  parts.  These  were  perpetually  at  war  one 
with  another;  but  having  united  for  their  mutual 
safety,  they  had  drawn  together  10,000  horse,  and 
80,000  foot,  all  vigorous  young  men,  with  900  chari- 
ots. However,  Alexander  defeated  them  in  several 
engagements,  dispossessed  them  of  some  strongholds, 
and  at  last  marched  against  the  city  of  the  Oxydracae, 
whither  the  greatest  part  were  retired.  Immediately 
he  causes  the  scaling-ladders  to  be  set  up;,  and,  ag 
they  were  not  nimble  enough  for  Alexander,  he  forces 
one  of  the  scaling-ladders  from  a  soldier;  runs  up  the 
first  (covered  with  hi<  shield)  and  gets  to  the  top  of  the 
wall,  followed  only  by  1'euct  stes  and  Limneus.  The 
soldiers  anxious  for  his  safety,  mounted  swiftly  to 
succour  him;  but  the  ladder  breaking,  the  king  was 
left  alone.  Alexander,  seeing  himself  the  mark  against 
which  all  the  darts  were  levelled,  both  from  the  towers 
•nd  from  the  rampart,  was  w  ra-h,  rather  than  valiant, 
4s  to  leap  into  the  rity,  which  was  crowded  with  the 
enemy,  having  nothing  to  expert  but  to  be  either  taken 
or  killed,  before  it  would  be  pos-ihle  for  him  to  rise, 
and  without  once  having  an  opportunity  to  defend 
himself,  or  revenge  his  death.  But,  happily  for  him, 
he  poised  his  body  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  fell  upon 
hit  feet:  and  finding  himnelt  standing,  sword  in  hand, 
he  repulsed  such  as  were  nearest  him,  and  even  killed 
the  general  of  the  enemv,  who  advanced  to  run  him 
through.  Happily  for  him  a  second  lime,  not  far  from 
thence  stood  a  great  tree,  against  the  trunk  of  which 


>   Arrinr  .  in  Inil.  p.  319      Strab.  lib.  xv.  p.  6U2. 


he  leaned. nis  shield  receiving  all  the  darts  that  wen 
shot  at  him  from  a  distance;  for  no  one  dared  to  ap- 
proach him,  so  gn-at  was  the  dread  which  the  bold- 
ness of  the  enterprise,  and  the  fire  which  shot  from  his 
eyes  had  struck  into  the  enemy.  At  last  an  Indian 
let  fly  an  arrow  three  feet  long  (ihatbting  the  length 
of  their  arrows,)  which  piercing  his  coat  of  mail  en- 
tered a  considerable  way  into  his  body,  a  little  above 
the  right  side.  So  grtat  a  quantity  of  blood  issued 
from  the  wound,  that  he  dropped  his  arms  nnd  lay  ai 
dead.  Behold  then  this  mighty  conqueror,?  this  van- 
quisher of  nations,  upon  the  point  ol  losing  his  life, 
not  at  the  head  of  his  armies,  not  at  the  siege  ot  snjr 
place  of  importance,  but  in  a  corner  of  an  obscure 
city,  into  which  his  rashness  had  thrown  him.  The 
Indian  who  had  wounded  A  It-  xander,  ran,  in  the  great- 
est transports  of  joy,  to  strip  him;  however,  Alexan- 
der no  sooner  felt  the  hand  ol  his  enemv  upon  him,  but 
fired  with  the  spirit  of  revenge,  he  recalled  his  spirits; 
and  grappling  with  the  Indian,  as  he  had  no  anus,  he 
plunged  nis  dagger  into  his  side.  Some  of  his  chief 
officers,  as  Peucestes,  Leonate*.  and  TiniEeus,  who  had 
got  to  the  top  ot  the  wall  with  some  soldiers,  came 
up  at  that  instant,  and  attempting  impossibilities  lor 
the  sake  of  saving  their  sovereign's  life,  they  form 
themselves  as  a  bulwark  round  his  body,  and  sustain 
the  whole  effort  of  the  enemy.  It  was  then  that  a 
mighty  battle  was  fought  round  him.  In  the  mean 
time  the  soldiers,  who  had  climbed  up  with  the  officers 
above-mentioned,  having  broken  the  bolts  ot  a  little 
gate,  standing  between  txvo  towers,  they  by  that 
means  let  in  the  Macedonians.  Soon  alter  the  town 
was  taken,  and  all  the  inhabitants  were  put  to  the 
sword,  without  distinction  of  age  or  sex, 

Their  first  care  wag  to  carry  Alexander  into  hii 
tent.  Being  got  into  it,  the  surgeons,3  cut  off,  so  very 
dexterously,  the  wood  of  the  «hait  which  had  been 
shot  into  his  body,  that  they  did  not  move  the  steel 
point;  and  after  undressing  him,  they  found  it  was 
a  bearded  arrow;4  and  that  it  could  not  be  pulled 
out,  without  danger,  unless  the  wound  were  widen- 
ed. The  king  bore  the  operation  with  incredible  re- 
solution, so  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  people  to 
hold  him.  The  incision  being  made,  and  the  arrow 
drawn  out,  so  great  an  etfusion  of  blood  ensued,  that 
th^  king  tainted  away.  Every  one  thought  him  dead  ; 
but  the  blood  being  slopped,  he  recovered  by  degrees, 
and  knew  the  persons  about  him.  All  that  day,  and 
the  whole  night  alter,  the  army  continued  under  arms 
round  his  tent;  and  would  not  stir  from  their  posts, 
till  certain  m  ws  was  brought  of  his  being  better,  and 
that  he  began  to  take  a  little  rest 

At  the  end  of  the  seven  days  he  had  employed  for 
his  recovery,  before  his  wound  was  closed,  as  he  knew 
that  the  report  of  his  death  gained  ground  among  the 
barbarians,  he  caused  two  vessels  to  be  joined  toge- 
ther, and  his  tent  pitched  in  the  middle,  in  sight 
of  every  one,  purposely  to  show  himself  to  those  who 
imagined  him  dead,  and  to  ruin,  by  this  means,  all 
their  projects  and  the  hopes  with  which  they  flat- 
tered themselves.  He  atlerwards  wt  nt  down  the 
river,  going  before  at  some  distance  from  the  rest  oi 
the  fleet,  tor  fear  lest  the  noise  of  the  oars  shoulc 
keep  him  from  sleep,  which  he  very  mucn  wanted. 
When  he  was  a  little  better,  ami  able  to  go  out,  the 
soldiers  who  were  upon  guard  brought  him  his  litter, 
but  he  refused  it,  and  calling  for  his  horse,  mounted 
him.  At  this  sight,  all  the  shore,  and  the  neighbour- 
ing forests,  echoed  with  the  acclamations  of  the  armjr, 
who  imagined  they  saw  him  rise,  in  a  manner,  from 
the  grave.  Being  come  near  his  tent,  he  alighted, and 
walked  a  little  way,  surrounded  with  a  great  number 
of  soldiers,  some  ol'whom  kissed  his  hands,  whiUt  oth- 
er* clasped  his  knees;  others  again  were  contented 
with  only  touching  his  clothes,  and  with  seeing  him; 
but  all  in  general  burst  into  tears,  and  calling  for  a 
thousand  blessings  from  heaven,  wished  him  long  life, 
and  an  uninterrupted  series  ot  prosperity. 


*  Plut.  de  fort u n.  Alex.  p.  3-14. 

•  In    those   ages   they   and    physician!   were  the   ran* 
thin;. 

«  So  arrows  arc  railed  that  have  heard*  nt  their  point! 
like  fUh-huoki      Jitiimadtfli  nt  fiamot  ineat  ttle. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


589 


At  th's  instant  deputies  came  from  Malli,  with 
.he  chiefs  of  the  Oxydracae,  to  the  number  of  150,  be- 
•ides  the  governors  of  the  cities  and  of  the  province, 
who  brought  him  presents,  and  paid  him  homage, 
pleading  in  excuse,  for  not  having  done  it  before,  their 
llrong  love  of  liberty.  They  declared  that  they 
were  ready  to  receive  for  their  governor  whomsoever 
he  pleased  to  nominate;  that  they  would  pay  him 
tribute,  and  give  him  l.ostages.  He  demanded  1000 
of  the  chief  persons  of  their  nation,  whom  he  also 
might  make  use  of  in  war,  till  he  had  subjected  all  the 
country.  They  put  into  his  hands  such  of  their  coun- 
trymen as  were  handsomest  and  best  shaped,  with 
500  chariots,  though  not  demanded  by  him;  at  which 
the  king  was  so  much  pleased,  that  he  gave  them 
oack  their  hostages,  and  appointed  Philip  their  go- 
vernor. 

Alexander,  who  was  overjoyed  at  this  embassy, 
•nd  found  his  strength  increase  daily,  tasted  with  so 
much  the  greater  pleasure  the  fruits  both  of  his  victory 
and  health,  as  he  had  like  to  have  lost  them  for  ever. 
Hischief  courtiers,  and  most  intimate  friends,  thought 
it  <\  proper  juncture,  during  this  calm  and  sereniu  of 
pind,  for  them  to  unbosom  themselves,  and  expose 
their  fears  to  him:  it  was  Craterus  spoke  on  this  oc- 
casion. "  We  begin,  royal  Sir,  to  breathe  and  live, 
now  we  find  you  in  the  condition  to  which  the  good- 
ness of  the  gods  has  restored  you.  But  how  great 
were  our  fears  and  our  griefs!  How  severely  did  we 
reproach  ourselves,  for  having  abandoned,  in  such  an 
extremity,  our  king,  our  father!  It  was  not  in  our 
power  to  follow  him;  but  this  did  not  extenuate  our 
guilt,  and  we  look  upon  ourselves  as  criminals,  in 
not  having  attempted  impossibilities  for  your  sake. 
But,  Sir,  never  plunge  us  in  such  deep  affliction  here- 
after. Does  a  wretched  paltry  town  deserve  to  be 
bought  at  so  dear  a  price  as  the  loss  of  your  life? 
Leave  those  petty  exploits  and  enterprises  to  us,  and 
preserve  your  person  for  such  occasions  only  as 
are  worthy  of  you.  We  still  shudder  with  horror, 
when  we  reflect  on  what  we  so  lately  were  spectators 
of.  We  have  seen  the  moment,  when  the  most  ab- 
ject hands  upon  earth  were  going  to  seize  the  greatest 
prince  in  the  universe,  and  despoil  him  of  his  royal 
robes.  Permit  us,  Sir,  to  say,  you  are  not  your  own 
master,  but  that  you  owe  yourself  to  us:  we  have  a 
right  over  your  life,  since  ours  depends  on  it;  and  we 
dare  take  the  freedom  to  conjure  you,  as  being  your 
subjects  and  your  children,  to  be  more  careful  of  so 
precious  a  life,  if  not  for  your  own  sake,  at  least  for 
ours  and  for  the  felicity  of  the  universe." 

The  king  was  strongly  touched  with  these  testimo- 
nies of  their  affection,  and  having  embraced  them  se- 
verally with  inexpressible  tenderness,  he  answered 
as  follows:  "I  cannot  enough  thank  all  present, 
who  are  the  flower  of  my  citizen*  and  friends,  not  only 
for  your  having  this  day  preferred  my  safety  to  your 
own,  but  also  for  the  strong  proofs  you  have  given 
nie  of  your  leal  and  affection,  from  the  beginning  of 
this  war;  and  if  any  thing  is  capable  of  making  me 
wish  for  a  longer  life,  it  i«  the  pleasure  of  enjoy  ins. 
for  years  to  come,  such  valuable  friends  as  you.  But 
give  me  leave  to  observe,  that  in  some  points  we  difl'i  r 

very  much  in  opinion.     You  wish  to  enjoy  me  long; 

f  •  •   t      f 

and  even,  were  it  possible,  for  ever;  but  as  to  my- 

»«lt.  I  compute  the  length  of  my  existence,  not  by 
years,  but  by  glory.  I  might  have  confined  my  am- 
bition within  the  narrow  limits  of  Macedonia:  and, 
contented  with  the  kingdom  my  ancestors  left  m.-, 
ha-e  waited,  in  the  midst  of  pleasures  and  indolence, 
an  inglorious  old  age.  I  own,  that  if  my  victories,  not 
my  years,  are  computed,  I  shall  seem  to  have  lived 
I'msr;  but  can  you  imagine,  that,  after  having  made 
Europe  and  Asia  but  one  empire,  after  having  con- 
quered the  two  noblest  parts  of  the  world,  in  the  tenth 
ytar  of  mv  reign,  and  the  thirtieth  of  my  f><je.  it  will 
become  me  to  stop  in  the  midst  of  so  brilliant  a  ca- 
reer, and  discontinue  the  pursuit  of  glory,  to  which  I 
nave  entirely  devoted  myself?  Know  that  th'u  glory 
ennobles  all  things,  and  gives  a  true  and  solid  gran- 
deur to  whatever  appears  insignificant.  In  what 
place  soever  I  may  nght.  I  shall  fancy  myself  upon 
the  stage  of  the  world  and  in  presence  of  all  man- 


kind.  I  confess  that  I  have  achieved  mighty  thing* 
hitherto;  but  the  country  we  are  now  in,  reproaches 
me  that  a  woman  has  done  still  greater.  It  is  Semir- 
HIIIIS  I  mean.  How  many  nations  did  she  conquer! 
How  many  cities  were  built  by  tier!  What  magnifi- 
cent and  stupendous  works  did  she  finish!  How 
•  halm  lul  is  it,  that  1  should  not  yet  have  attained  to 
her  pitch  of  glory!  L)o  but  second  my  ardour,  and  I 
soon  shall  surpass  her.  Defend  me  only  from  secret 
cabals,  and  domestic  treasons,  by  which  most  princes 
lose  their  lives.  I  take  the  rest  upon  myself,  and  will 
be  answerable  to  you  for  all  the  events  of  the  war." 

This  speech  gives  UP  a  perfect  idea  of  Alexander'* 
character.  He  had  no  notion  ol  true  glory.  He  did 
not  know  either  the  principle,  the  rule,  or  end  of  it. 
He  placed  it  where  it  certainly  was  not.  The  com- 
mon (rror  was  that  which  he  adopted  and  cherished. 
He  fancied  himself  born  merely  lor  glory;  and  that 
none  could  be  acquired  but  by  unbounded,  unjust, 
antl  irregular  conquests.  In  his  impttuous  sallies 
after  a  mistaken  glory,  he  followed  neither  reason, 
virtue,  nor  humanity;  and,  as  if  his  ambitious  ca- 
price ought  to  have  been  a  rule  and  standard  to  all 
other  men,  he  was  surprised  that  neither  his  otliceri 
nor  soldiers  would  enlei  into  his  views,  and  lent  them- 
selves very  unwillingly  to  support  his  ridiculous  enter- 
prises. 

Alexander,  after  having  ended  his  speech,  dis- 
missed the  assembly,  and  continued  encamped  for 
several  days  in  this  place.  He  afterwards  went  upon 
the  river,  and  his  armv  riarched  after  him  along  the 
banks.  He  then  came  among  the  Sabracie,  a  power- 
ful nation  of  Indians.  These  had  levied  00,000  foot 
and  6000  horse,  and  reinforced  them  with  500  cha- 
riots; howevei,  the  arrival  of  Alexander  spread  ter- 
ror through  the  whole  country, and  accordingly  they 
sent  ambassadors  to  make  their  submission.  After 
having  built  another  city,  which  he  also  called  Alex- 
andria, he  arrived  in  the  territories  of  MUSH  anus,  a 
very  rich  prince,  and  afterwards  in  those  of  king  Sa- 
uius.  At  the  siege  of  one  of  this  king's  towns,  Pto- 
li -my  was  very  dangerously  wounded;  for  the  Indians 
had  poisoned  all  their  arrows  and  swords, so  that  the 
wounds  they  made  were  mortal.  Alexander,  vho 
had  the  highest  love  and  esteem  for  Ptolemy,  was 
very  much  afflicted,  anil  caused  him  to  be  brought  in 
his  bed  near  him,  that  he  himself  might  have  an  eye 
to  his  cure.  He  was  his  near  relation,  and,  accord- 
ing to  sonfe  writers,  a  natural  son  of  Philip.  Ptolemy 
was  one  of  the  bravest  men  in  the  army,  was  highly 
esteemed  in  war,  and  had  still  greater  talents  for 
peace.  He  was  averse  to  luxury,  vastly  generous, 
and  e»sy  of  access,  and  did  nol  imitate  the  pomp, 
which  wealth  and  prosperity  had  made  the  rest  of 
the  Macedonian  noblemen  assume:  in  a  word,  it  is 
hard  to  say,  whether  he  were  more  ester  med  by  hi* 
sovereign  or  his  country.  We  are  told  there  appear- 
ed to  Alexander,  in  H  dream,  a  dragon,  which  present- 
ed him  an  herb,  as  an  effectual  remedy  for  his  friend'* 
wound;  and  that  upon  his  waking,  he  ordered  it  to 
be  sent  for;  when  laying  it  upon  the  wound,  it  «vai 
healed  in  a  few  days,  to  the  universal  joy  of  the  armv. 

The  king  continuing  his  voyage,!  arrived  at  Patala 
about  the  ruing  of  the  dog-star,  that  is,  about  the  end 
of  July,  so  that  the  fleet  was  nine  months  at  least  from 
its  setting  out,  till  its  arrival  at  that  place.  There 
the  river  Indus  divides  into  two  large  arms,  and  form* 
an  island,  toil  much  larger,  like  the  Delta  of  the  IViile; 
and  hence  the  city  above-mentioned  received  its  name, 
Pato/a,  according  to  Arrian,2  signifying,  in  the  Indian 
tongue,  the  same  as  Delta  in  (ireek.  Alexander 
caused  a  citadel  to  be  built  in  Palal.i,  as  al«o  a  har- 
bour, and  an  arsenal  for  the  shipping.  Thi»  being 
done,  he  embarked  on  the  right  arm  of  the  river,  in 
order  to  Kail  as  far  as  the  ocean,  exposing  in  (hi*  man- 
ner so  many  brave  men  to  the  mercy  of  a  river  with 
which  they  were  wholly  unacquainted.  The  only 
consolation  they  had  in  this  rush  enterprise, was  Alex- 
ander's uninterrupted  success.  When  he  had  sailed 
twenty  leagues,3  the  pilots  tol.l  him  that  they  began 


Strab.l.  XT.  p.  092. 
Four  hundred  furlungi. 


»  Arriaa.  m  hutto.  p  114 


. 
2  Z 


590 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


(o  perceive  the  sea-air,  and  therefore  believed  that  the 
ocean  cuulil  not  be  far  off.  Upon  this  news,  leaping 
or  joy,  he  besought  the  Bailors  to  row  with  all  their 
strength,  and  told  the  soldiers,  "That  they  at  last 
were  come  to  the  end  of  their  toils,  whk  .1  they  had  so 
earnestly  desired;  that  now  nothing  could  oppose 
their  valour,  nor  «dd  to  their  glor}  ;  that  without 
fighting  any  more,  or  spilling  of  blood,  they  were 
masters  of  the  universe;  that  their  exploits  had  the 
ranie  boundaries  with  nature;  and  that  they  would 
soon  In  spectators  of  things,  known  only  to  the  im- 
mortal gods." 

Hfing  come  nearer  the  sea,  a  circumstance  new 
and  unheard  of  bv  the  Macedonians,  threw  them  into 
the  utmost  confusion,  and  exposed  the  fleet  to  the 
greatest  danger;  and  this  was  the  ebbing  ami  (low- 
ing of  the  ocean.  Forming  a  judgment  of  this  vast 
sea,  from  that  of  the  Mediterranean,  the  only  one  they 
knew,  and  whose  tides  are  imperceptible,  they  were 
very  much  astonished  when  they  saw  it  rise  to  a 
great  height,  and  overflow  the  country;  and  consi- 
dered it  as  a  mark  of  the  anger  of  the  gods,  who  were 
disposed  to  punish  their  rashness.  They  were  no 
less  surprised  and  terrified,  some  hours  alter,  when 
they  saw  the  ebbing  of  the  sea,  which  now  withdrew 
as  it  had  before  advanced,  leaving  those  lands  unco- 
vered it  had  so  lately  overflowed.  The  fleet  was  very 
much  shattered,  and  the  ships  being  now  upon  dry 
land,  the  fields  were  covered  with  clothes,  with  broken 
oar*  and  planks,  as  after  a  great  storm. 

At  last  Alexander,  after  having  spent  full  nine 
months  in  coming  down  the  rivers,  arrived  at  the 
ocean;  where  gazing  with  th«  utmost  eagerness  upon 
that  vast  expanse  of  waters,  he  imagined  that  this 
sight,  worthy  of  so  great  a  conqueror  as  himself, 
greatly  overpaid  all  the  toils  he  had  undergone,  and 
the  many  thousand  men  he  had  lost,  to  arrive  at  it. 
He  then  offered  sacrifices  to  the  gods,  aud  particularly 
to  Neptune;  threw  into  the  sea  the  bulls  he  had 
slaughtered,  and  a  great  number  of  golden  cups; 
and  besought  the  gods  not  to  suffer  any  mortal  after 
him  to  exceed  the  bounds  of  his  expedition.  Finding 
that  he  had  extended  his  conquests  to  the  extremi- 
ties of  the  earth  on  that  side,  he  imagined  he  had  com- 
pleted his  mighty  design;  and,  highly  delighted  with 
himself,  he  returned  to  rejoin  the  rest  of  his  fleet  and 
army,  which  waited  for  him  at  Fatala,  and  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  that  place. 

SF.CTION  XVII. — ALEXANDER,  IN  HIS  MARCH 
THROUGH  DESERTS,  IS  GRIEVOUSLY  DISTRESSED 
BY  FAMINE.  HE  ARRIVES  AT  PASARGADA,  WHERE 
CYRUS'S  MONUMENT  STOOD.  ORSIISES,  A  POWER- 
FUL SATRAP,  IS  PUT  TO  DEATH  THROUGH  THE 
CLANDESTINE  INTRIGUES  OF  BAGOAS  THE  EU- 
NUCH. CALAMJS  THE  INDIAN  ASCENDS  A  FUNE- 
RAL PILE,  WHERE  HE  VOLUNTARILY  MEETS  HIS 
DEATH.  ALEXANDER  MARRIES  STATIRA,  THE 
DAUGHTER  OF  DARIUS.  HARPALUS  ARRIVES  AT 
ATHENS.  DEMOSTHENES  IS  BANISHED.  THE  MA- 
CEDONIAN SOLDIERS  MAKE  AN  INSURRECTION, 
WHICH  ALEXANDER  APPEASES.  HE  RECALLS  AN- 
TIPATER  FROM  MACEDONIA,  AND  SENDS  CRATE- 
RUS  IN  HIS  ROOM.  THE  KING'S  SORROW  FOR  THE 
DEATH  OF  HEPHJESTION. 

ALEXANDER  being  returned  to  Patala,  prepared  all 
things  for  the  departure  of  his  fleet.1  He  appointed 
Nearchus  admiral  of  it,  who  was  the  only  officer 
that  had  the  courage  to  accept  of  this  commission, 
which  was  a  very  hazardous  one,  because  they  were 
to  sail  over  a  sea  entirely  unknown  to  them.  The 
king  was  very  much  pleased  at  his  accepting  of  it; 
•pd,  after  testifying  his  acknowledgment  upon  that 
account  in  the  mo«t  obliging  terms,  he  commanded 
him  to  take  the  best  ships  in  the  fleet,  and  to  go  and 
observe  the  sea-coast,  extending  from  the  Indus  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Persian  gulf;  and,  after  having  given 
these  orders,  he  set  out  by  land  for  Babylon. 

Nearchus  did  not  leave  the  Indus  at  the  same  time 
with  Alexander.2  It  was  not  yet  the  season  proper 
V»r  sailing.  It  was  summer,  when  the  southern  sea- 


•  Arritn.  in  Indie,  p.  334. 


•  Arrian.  p.  335. 


winds  rise;  and  the  season  of  the  north-winds,  which 
blow  in  winter,  was  not  jet  come.  He  therefore  did 
not  set  sail  till  about  the  tndol  September,  and  even 
that  was  too  soon;  and  accordingly  he  was  incom 
moded  by  adverse  winds  some  days  after  his  depar- 
ture, aud  obliged  to  shelter  him-tlf  for  twenty-lour 
da  vs. 

\Ve  are  obliged  for  these  particulars  to  Arrian,  who 
has  given  us  an  exact  jouinal  1.1  this  voyage,  copied 
from  that  of  Nearchus  the  admiral. 

Alexander,  alter  having  left  Pataln,  marched 
through  the  counti  v  of  the  Oritae,  the  capita!  thereof 
was  called  Ora  or  rihambacis.  Here  he  was  in  such, 
want  of  provisions,  that  he  lost  a  great  number  oi  sol 
diers;  and  brought  back  from  India  scarce  the  fourth 
part  of  his  army,  which  had  corsisted  of  120,000  foott 
and  15,000  horse.  Sickness,  bad  food,  and  the  exce» 
sive  heats,  had  swept  them  aw;  v  in  multitudes;  but 
famine  made  a  still  greater  ha\oc  among  the  troops  in 
this  barren  country,  which  was  neither  ploughed  nor 
sowed;  its  inhabitant!  being  savages,  -vho  lared  very 
hard,  and  led  a  most  uncomlortable  liie.  After  they 
had  eaten  all  the  palm-tree  roots  that  could  be  met 
with,  they  were  obliged  to  feed  upon  the  beasts  of 
burden,  and  next  upon  their  war-horses;  and  when 
they  had  no  beasts  left  to  carry  their  baggage,  they 
were  forced  to  burn  those  rich  spoils,  for  the  sake  of 
which  the  Macedonians  had  run  to  the  extremities  of 
the  earth.  The  plague,  the  usual  attendant  upon 
famine,  completed  the  calamity  of  the  soldiers,  aud 
destroyed  great  numbers  of  them. 

Alter  marching  threescore  davs,  Alexanderarrived 
at  the  confines  of  Gedrosia,  where  he  found  plenty  of 
all  things:  for  not  only  the  soil  was  very  fruitful,  but 
the  king?  and  great  men,  who  lay  nearest  that  coun- 
try, sent  him  all  kinds  of  provisions.  He  continued 
some  time  here,  in  order  to  refresh  his  army.  The 
governors  of  India  having  sent,  by  his  order,  a  great 
number  of  horses,  and  all  kind  of  beasts  of  burden 
from  the  several  kingdoms  subject  to  him,  he  remount* 
ed  his  troops:  equipped  those  who  had  lost  every 
thing;  and  soon  alter  presented  all  of  them  with  arm* 
as  beautiful  as  those  they  had  before,  which  it  wa* 
very  easy  for  him  to  do,  as  they  were  upon  the  con- 
fines of  Persia,  at  that  time  in  peace,  and  in  a  vert 
nourishing  condition. 

He  arrived  in  Carmania,  now  cal- 
led Kerman,  and  went  through  it,  A.  M.  3679- 
not  with  the  air  and  equipage  of  a  Ant.  J.  C.  325. 
warrior  and  a  conqueror,  but  in  a 
kind  of  masquerade  and  Bacchanalian  festivity;  com* 
milting  the  most  riotous  and  extravagant  actions.  Ha 
was  drawn  by  eight  horses,  seated  on  a  magnificent 
chariot,  above  which  a  scaffold  was  raised,  in  the  form 
of  a  square  stage,  where  he  passed  the  days  and  nights 
in  feasts  and  carousing.  This  chariot  ivas  preceded 
and  followed  by  an  infinite  number  of  others,  some  of 
which,  in  the  shape  of  tents,  were  covered  with  rich 
carpets  and  purple  coverlets;  and  others,  shaped  like 
cradles,  were  overshadowed  with  branches  of  trees. 
On  the  sides  of  the  roads,  and  at  the  doors  of  houses, 
a  great  number  of  casks  ready  broached  were  placed, 
whence  the  soldiers  drew  wine  in  large  flagons,  cups, 
and  goblets,  prepared  for  that  purpose.  The  whole 
country  echoed  with  the  sound  of  instruments,  and 
the  howlings  of  the  Bacchanals,  who,  with  their  hair 
dishevelled,  and  like  so  many  frantic  creatures,  ran  up 
and  do«vn,  abandoning  themselves  to  every  kind  of 
licentiousness.  All  this  he  did  in  imitation  of  tha 
triumph  of  Bacchus,  who,  at  we  are  told,  crossed  all 
Asia,  in  this  equipage,  after  he  had  conquered  India. 
This  riotous,  dissolute  march  lasted  seven  days,  du- 
ring all  which  time  the  army  was  never  sober.  It  was 
very  happy,  says  Quintus  Curtius,  for  them,  that  tie 
conquered  nations  did  not  think  of  attacking  them  in 
this  condition;  for  1000  resolute  men,  well  armrd, 
might  with  great  ease  have  defeated  the  conquerort 
of  the  world,  whilst  thus  plunged  in  wine  and  ex- 
cess. 

Nearchus  8  still  keeping  along  th«  sea-coast,  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Indus,  came  at  last  into  the  Persian 

•  Arrian.  in  Indie.  34&-35S. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


591 


fo\f,  and  arrived  at  the  island  of  Harmusia,  now 
called  Ornius.  He  wa»  there  informed,  that  Alexan- 
der was  not  above  five  days'  journey  from  him.  Hav- 
ing left  the  fleet  in  a  secure  place,  he  went  to  meet 
Alexander,  accompanied  only  by  four  persons.  The 
king  was  very  anxious  about  his  Heel.  When  news 
was  brought  him  that  Nearchus  was  arrived  almost 
alone,  he  imagined  that  it  had  been  entirely  destroyed, 
and  that  Nearchus  had  been  so  very  happy  as  to  escape 
from  the  general  misfortune.  His  arrival  continued 
him  still  more  in  his  opinion,  when  he  beheld  a  com- 
pany of  pale,  lean  creatures,  whose  countenances 
were  so  much  changed,  that  it  was  scarce  possible  to 
know  them  again.  Taking  iS'earchus  aside,  he  told 
him,  that  he  was  overjoyed  at  his  return,  but  at  the 
•nine  time  was  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  his  fleet. 
"Your  fleet,  royal  Sir,"  cried  he  immediately,  "thanks 
to  the  gods,  is  not  lost:"  upon  which  he  related  the 
condition  in  which  he  had  left  it.  Alexander  could  not 
refrain  from  tears,  and  confessed  that  this  happy  news 
gave  him  greater  pleasure  than  the  conquest  of  all 
Asia.  He  heard,  with  uncommon  delight,  the  account 
Nearchus  gave  of  his  voyage,  and  the  discoveries  he 
bad  made;  nnd  bid  him  return  back,  and  go  quite  up 
the  Euphrates  as  far  as  Babylon,  pursuant  to  the  first 
orders  he  had  given  him. 

In  Carmania,  many  complaints  were  made  to  Alex- 
ander, concerning  governors  and  other  officers,  who 
had  grievously  oppressed  the  people  of  various  pro- 
yinces  during  his  absence;  for,  fully  persuaded  he 
would  never  return,  they  had  exercised  every  species 
of  rapine,  tyranny,  cruelty,  and  oppression.  Alex- 
ander, strongly  affected  with  their  grievances,  and 
pierced  to  the  very  soul  with  their  just  complaints,  put 
to  death  as  many  as  were  found  guilty  of  mal-admin- 
istration.and  with  them  600  soldiers,  who  had  been  the 
instruments  of  their  exactions  and  other  crimes.  He 
ever  afterwards  treated  with  the  same  severity  all  such 
of  his  officers  as  were  convicted  of  the  like  guilt,  so 
that  his  government  was  beloved  by  all  the  conquered 
nations.  He  was  of  opinion,  that  a  prince  owes  these 
example*  of  severity  to  his  equity,  which  ought  to 
check  every  kind  of  irregularity ;  to  his  glory  to  prove 
he  does  not  connive,  or  share  in  the  injustice  commit- 
ted in  his  name;  to  the  consolation  of  his  subjects, 
which  he  supplies  with  a  vengeance  which  themselves 
ought  never  to  exercise;  in  fine,  to  the  safetv  of  his 
dominions,  which,  by  so  equitable  an  administration,  is 
tecured  from  many  dangers,  and  very  often  from  insur- 
rections. It  is  a  great  unhappiness  to  a  kingdom, 
when  every  part  of  it  resounds  with  exactions,  vexa- 
tions, oppressions,  and  corruption,  and  not  so  much 
as  a  single  man  is  punished,  as  a  terror  to  the  rest: 
and  that  the  whole  weight  of  the  public  authority  falls 
only  upon  the  people,  and  never  on  those  who  ruin 
them. 

The  great  pleasure  Alexander  took,  in  the  account 
which  Nearchus  gave  him  of  his  successful  voyage, 
inspired  that  prince  with  a  great  inclination  for  navi- 
gation and  voyages  by  sea.  He  proposed  no  less  than 
to  sail  from  the  Persian  gulf,  round  Arabia  and  Africa, 
and  to  return  into  the  Mediterranean  by  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar,  called  at  that  time  Hercules's  Pillars;  a 
voyage  which  had  been  several  times  attempted,  and 
once  performed,  by  order  of  a  king  of  Egypt,  called 
Necho,  as  I  have  observed  elsewhere.  It  was  after- 
wards his  design,  when  he  should  have  humbled  the 
pride  of  Carthage,  against  which  he  was  greatly  exas- 
perated, to  cross  into  Spain,  called  by  the  Greeks 
Iberia,  from  the  river  Iberus:  he  next  was  to  go  over 
the  Alps, and  coast  along  Italv,  where  he  would  have 
had  but  a  short  pa<tage  into  i'.pirus,  and  from  thence 
into  Macedonia.  For  this  purpose,  he  sent  orders  to 
the  viceroys  of  Mesopotamia  and  Syria,  to  build  in 
several  parts  of  the  Euphrates,  and  particularly  at 
Thapsacus,  ships  sufficient  for  that  enterprise;  and 
he  caused  to  be  felled,  on  mount  Libanus,  a  great 
anmber  of  trees,  which  were  to  be  carried  into  the 
aoove-men'ioned  city.  But  this  project,  as  well  as 
•  great  many  more  which  he  meditated,  were  all  de- 
feated by  his  early  death. 

Continuing  his  march,  he  went  to  Pasargada,  a  city 
•f  Persia.  Orsines  was  governor  of  the  country,  and 


the  greatest  nobleman  in  it.  He  wan  a  descendant  of 
Cyrus;  and,  besides  the  wealth  he  inherited  from  hi* 
ancestors,  he  himself  had  amassed  great  treasures 
having,  lor  many  years,  ruled  a  considerable  extent  Oi 
country.  He  had  done  the  king  a  signal  piece  ol  ser 
vice.  The  person  who  governed  the  province  during 
Alexander's  expedition  into  India,  happened  to  die; 
when  Orsiius  observing,  that,  for  want  of  a  governor, 
all  things  were  running  to  confusion,  took  the  admin- 
istration upon  himstlf.composed  matters  very  happily, 
and  preserved  them  in  the  utmost  tranquillity  till  Alex- 
ander's arrival.  He  went  to  meet  him,  with  presents 
of  all  kinds  for  himself,  as  well  as  his  officers.  These 
con-i-ted  of  a  great  number  of  fine  and  well-trained 
horses,  chariots  enriched  with  gold  and  silver,  precious 
furniture,  jewels,  gold  vases  of  prodigious  weight, 
purple  robes,  and  4000  talents  of  silver  in  specie.1 
However,  this  generous  magnificence  proved  fatal  to 
him:  for  when  he  presented  such  gifts  to  the  principal 
grandees  of  the  court,  as  infinitely  exceeded  their  ex- 
pectations, he  passed  by  the  eunuch  Bagoas,  the 
king's  favourite;  and  this  not  through  forget fulnen, 
but  out  of  contempt.  Some  persons  telling  him  how 
much  the  king  loved  Bagoas,  he  answered,  "  I  hon- 
our the  king's  friends,  but  not  an  infamous  eunuch." 
These  words  being  told  Hagoas,  he  employed  all  hi* 
credit  to  ruin  a  prince  descended  from  the  noblest 
blood  in  the  East,  and  irreproachable  in  his  conduct. 
He  even  bribed  some  of  Orsines'  attendants,  giving 
them  instructions,  how  to  impeach  him  at  a  proper 
season;  and  in  the  mean  time,  whenever  he  was 
alone  with  the  king,  he  filled  his  mind  with  suspi- 
cions and  distrust,  letting  drop  ambiguous  expres- 
sions concerning  that  nobleman,  as  if  by  chance;  and 
dissembling  very  artfully  the  motives  of  discontent. 
Nevertheless  the  king  suspended  his  judgment  for 
the  present,  but  discovered  less  esteem  than  before 
for  Orsines,  who  knew  nothing  of  what  was  plotting; 
against  him, HO  secretly  the  affair  was  canied  on;  ana 
the  eunuch,  in  his  private  discourses  with  Alexander, 
was  perpetually  charging  him  either  with  exaction* 
or  treason. 

The  great  danger  to  which  princes  are  exposed,  l* 
the  suffering  themselves  to  be  prejudiced,  and  over- 
reached in  this  manner  by  their  favourites;  a  danger 
so  common,  that  St.  Bernard,  writing  to  Pope  Euge- 
nius,*  assures  him  that  if  he  were  exempt  from  this 
weakness,  he  may  boast  himself  to  be  the  only  man  in 
the  world  that  is  so.  What  is  here  spoken  of  princes, 
is  applicable  to  all  who  are  in  power.  Great  men 
generally  listen  with  pleasure  to  the  slanderer:  and 
for  this  reason,  because  he  generally  puts  on  the 
mask  of  affection  and  zeal,  which  soothes  their  pride. 
Slander  always  makes  some  impression  on  the  most 
equitable  minds;  and  leaves  behind  it  such  dark  and 
gloomy  traces,  as  raise  suspicions,  jealousies,  and  dis- 
tru»t«.  The  artful  slanderer  is  bold  and  indefatigable, 
because  he  is  sure  to  escape  unpunished;  and  is  sen- 
sible, that  he  runs  but  very  liltle  danger,  in  greatly 
prejudicing  others.  With  regard  to  the  great,  they 
seldom  make  inquiry  into  the  grounds  of  these  secret 
calumnies,  either  from  indolence,  inattention  or  shame 
to  appear  suspicious,  fearful,  or  diffident;  in  a  word 
from  their  unwillingness  to  own  that  they  were  im- 
posed upon,  and  had  abandoned  themselves  to  a  rash 
credulity.  In  this  manner,  the  most  unsullied  virtu  re, 
and  the  most  irreproachable  fidelity,  are  frequently 
brought  to  inevitable  ruin. 

Of  this  we  have  a  sad  example  on  the  present  occa* 
sion.  Bagoas,  after  having  taken  his  measures  at  a 
distance,  at  last  gave  birth  to  his  dark  design.  Alex- 
ander having  caused  the  monument  of  C\ru»  to  be 
opened,  in  order  to  perform  funeral  honours  to  the 
ashes  of  that  great  prince,  found  nothing  in  it  but  an 
old  rotten  shield,  two  Scythian  bows,  and  a  scimetar; 
whereas  he  hoped  to  find  it  full  of  gold  and  silver,  as 
the  Persians  had  reported.  The  king  laid  a  golden 
crown  on  his  urn,  and  covered  it  with  his  cloak; 
vastly  surprised  that  so  powerful  and  renowned  a 
prince  had  been  buried  with  no  greater  pomp  than  a 
private  man.  Bagoas  thinking  this  a  proper  time  for 


About  CUU.OOO/. 


•  De  Coniider.  lib.  ii.e.  14. 


59'i 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


him  to  speak,  "  Are  we  to  wonder,"  says  he,  "  that  we  I 
find  the  tombs  of  kings  so  empty,  since  the  houses 
of  governors  of  provinces  are  tilled  with  the  gold  of 
which  they  have  deprived  them?  I,  indeexl,  had  never- 
seen  this  monument;  hut  1  have  heard  Darius  say, 
that  immense  treasures  were  buried  in  it.  Hence 
flowed  the  unbounded  liberality  and  profusion  ot  Or- 
sines,  who,  by  bestowing  what  he  could  not  keep, 
without  ruining  himself,  thought  to  make  a  merit  of 
this  in  your  sight."  This  charge  was  w  ithout  the  least 
foundation;  and  yet  the  Magi  who  guarded  the  se- 
pulchre, were  put  to  the  torture,  but  all  to  no  purpose; 
and  nothing  was  discovered  relating  to  the  pretended 
theft.  Their  siltnce  on  this  occasion  ought  naturally 
to  have  cleared  Or*'nus;  but  the  artful,  insinuating 
discourses  of  Bagoas,  had  made  a  deep  impression  on 
Alexander's  mind,  and  by  that  means  given  calumny 
an  easy  access  to  it.  The  accusers,  whom  Bagoas 
had  suborned,  having  made  choice  of  a  favourable 
moment,  came  and  impeached  Orsines,  and  charged 
bin>  with  the  commission  of  several  odious  crimes,  and 
amongst  the  rest,  with  stealing  the  treasure  of  the 
monument.  At  this  charge,  the  matter  appeared  no 
longer  doubtful,  and  no  farther  proof  was  thought  re- 
quisite; so  that  this  prince  was  loaded  with  chains, 
before  he  so  much  as  suspected  that  any  accusation 
had  been  brought  against  him;  and  was  put  to  death, 
without  being  so  much  as  heard,  or  confronted  with 
his  accusers;  too  unhappy  fate  of  kings,  who  do  not 
hear  and  examine  things  in  person;  and  who  still 
continue  infatuated,  notwithstanding  the  numberless 
examples  they  read  in  history,  of  princes  who  have 
been  deceived  in  like  manner. 

I  have  already  said,  that  there  had  followed  the 
kin?,  an  Indian,  named  Calanus,  reputed  the  wisest 
man  of  his  country,  who,  though  he  professed  the 
practice  of  the  most  severe  philosophy,  had  however 
been  persuaded,  in  his  extreme  old  age,  to  attend  upon 
the  court.  This  man.J  having  lived  fourscore  and 
three  years,  without  having  ever  been  afflicted  with 
sickness;  and  ttaving  a  very  severe  fit  of  the  colic, 
upon  his  arrival  at  Pasargada,2  resolved  to  put  himself 
to  death.  Resolute!)  determined  not  to  let  the  perfect 
health  he  had  always  emoyed.be  impaired  by  linger- 
ing pains;  and  being  also  afraid  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  physicians,  and  of  being  tortured  with  loads 
ot  medicine,  he  besought  the  king  to  order  the  erecting 
of  a  funeral  pile  for  him;  and  desired  that  after  he 
had  ascended  it,  fire  might  be  set  to  it.  Alexander  at 
tir-t  imagined  that  Calanus  might  easily  be  dissuaded 
from  so  dreadful  a  design;  but  finding,  in  spite  of 
all  the  arguments  he  could  use,  that  Calanu?  was  still 
inflexible,  he  at  last  was  obliged  to  acquiesce  in  his 
request.  Calanus  then  rode  on  horseback  to  the  foot 
of  the  funeral  pile;  offered  up  his  prayers  to  the  gods; 
caused  the  game  libations  to  be  poured  upon  himself, 
and  the  rest  of  the  ceremonies  to  be  observed,  which 
are  practised  at  funeral*;  cut  oil  a  tuft  of  his  hair,  as 
was  done  to  the  victims  at  a  sacrifice;  embraced  such 
of  his  friends  as  were  present;  entreated  them  to  be 
merry  that  day  and  carouse  with  Alexander;  assur- 
ing them  at  the  same  time,  that  he  would  soon  see  that 
prince  in  Babylon.  After  saying  these  words  he  as- 
cended, with  the  utmost  cheerfulness,  the  funeral  pile, 
laid  himself  down  upon  it,  and  covered  his  face;  and 
when  the  flame  catched  him,  he  did  not  make  the 
lesist  motion;  but  with  a  patience  and  constancy  that 
surprised  the  whole  armj, continued  in  the  position  in 
which  he.  at  first  had  laid  himself;  and  completed  his 
sacrifice,  by  dying  pursuant  to  the  custom  practised  by 
the  sages  of  his  country. 

The  historian  informs  us,3  that  people  differed  very 
much  in  opinion  with  respect  to  this  action.  Some 
C'liidrnmed  it,  as  suiting  only  a  frantic,  senseless 
wretch  ;  others  imagined  he  was  prompted  to  it  out  of 
vain-glory,  merely  for  the  sake  of  being  gated  at,  and 
to  (in--  l«r  a  miracle  in  constancy  (and  these  were  not 

i  Arrian.  lib.  vii.  p.  270.  Diod.  lib.  xvii.  p.  673,  574. 
riui.  in  Alfix.  p.  703. 

»  ["Pee  a  former  mite  on  Paisacaril*,  where  tbia  paMnpe  i* 
(v-ii-i.lprcd.  in  the  attempt  to  prove  the  identity  ul' Pussagar- 
dai  with  Pernepolw.] 

*   Diuilorui. 


mistaken;)  others  again  applauded  this  false  heroism, 
which  had  enabled  him  to  triumph  in  this  manner  over 
pain  and  death. 

Alexander,  being  returned  into  his  tent,  after  thii 
dreadful  ceremony,  invited  several  of  hi*  friends  and 
general  officers  to  supper;  and  in  compliance  with 
Calanus's  request,  and  to  do  him  honour,  he  proposed 
a  crown,  as  a  reward  for  him  who  should  quad  most- 
He  who  conquered  on  this  occasion,  WHS  Pioiuachua, 
who  swallowed  tour  measures  of  wine,  that  if,  eighteen 
or  twenty  pints.  Alter  receiving  the  prize,  which 
was  a  crown,  worth  a  talent,*  he  survived  his  victory 
but  three  days.  Of  these  guests,  forty-one  died  of 
their  intemperance:  a  scene  worthy  of  closing  that 
which  Calanus  had  a  little  before  exhibited  ! 

From  Pasargada,5  Alexander  came  to  Persepolis; 
and,  surveying  the  remains  of  the  c.ontlngration,  wa« 
exasperated  against  himself  for  his  folly  in  setting  it 
on  fire.  From  hence  he  advanced  towards  Susa. 
Nearchus,  in  compliance  with  his  orders,  had  begun 
to  sail  up  the  Euphrates  with  his  flett;  but  being  in- 
formed that  Alexander  was  going  to  Susa,  he  came 
down  nu;iiii  to  the  mouth  of  the  Pasitigris',  and  sailed 
up  this  river  to  a  bridge,  where  Alexander  was  to  pass 
it.  Then  the  naval  and  land  armies  joined.  The 
king  offered  to  the  gods  sacrifice;',  by  way  of  thanks 
forhis  happy  return;  and  great  re joic.ings  were  made 
in  the  ramp.  JVearc.hus  received  the  honours  due  to 
him,  for  the  care  he  had  taken  of  the  fleet;  and  for  hav- 
ing conducted  it  so  far  safe  through  numberless  dan- 
gers. 

Alexander  found  in  Snsa  nil  the  captives  of  quality 
he  had  left  there.  He  married  Statira,  Darius's  t  Idest 
daughter, and  gave  the  youngest  to  his  dear  Hephaes- 
tion.  And  in  order  that,  by  making  these  marriages 
more  common,  his  own  might  not  be  censured,  he  per- 
suaded the  greatest  noblemen  in  his  court,  and  his 
principal  favourites,  to  imitate  him.  Accordingly  they 
chose  from  among  the  noblest  families  of  Persia,  about 
fourscore  young  maidens,  whom  they  married.  Hii 
design  was,  by  these  alliances,  to  cement  so  strongly 
the  union  of  the  two  nations,  that  they  should  thence* 
forward  term  but  one,  under  hi*  empire.  The  nuptials 
were  solemnized  after  the  Persian  manner.  He  like- 
wise gave  a  feast  to  all  the  rest  of  the  Macedonians, 
who  had  married  before  in  that  country.  It  is  related 
that  there  were  9000  guests  at  this  feast,  and  that  h* 
gave  each  of  them  a  golden  cup  for  the  libations. 

Not  satisfied  with  this  bounty,  he  would  also  pay 
his  soldiers'  debts.  But  finding  that  several  would 
not  declare  the  sum  they  owed,  for  fear  of  its  bring 
an  artifice,  merely  to  discover  those  among  them  who 
were  ton  lavish  of  their  money,  he  appointed  in  his 
camp,  offices,  where  all  debts  were  paid,  without  ask- 
ing the  name  either  of  the  debtor  or  creditor.  His 
liberality  was  very  great  on  this  occasion,  and  pave 
prodigious  satisfaction;  we  are  told  that  it  amounted 
to  near  10,000  talents;8  but  hi?  indulgence,  in  per- 
mitting every  person  to  conceal  hU  name,  was  a  still 
more  agreeable  circumstance.  He  reproached  the 
soldier?  for  their  setming  to  suspect  the  truth  of  his 
promise,  and  said  to  them:  "That  a  king  ought  nt-ver 
to  forfeit  his  word  with  his  subjects;7  nor  hi* subjects 
suspect  that  he  could  be  guilty  of  so  shameful  a  pre- 
varication:" a  truly  royal  maxim,  a§  it  forms  the  se- 
em itv  ofa  people, and  the  most  solid  glory  of  a  prince; 
which,  at  the  same  time,  may  be  renounced  for  ever, 
by  the  violation  ofa  single  promise;  which  in  affairs 
of  government  is  the  most  fatal  of  nil  errors. 

And  now  therearrired  at  Susa 30.000  Persianyoung 
men,  most  of  the  same  age,  and  ciilli-d  Epigoni,  that 
it.  succetsors;  as  coming  to  relieve  the  old  soldi*:*  iq 
tneir  duty  afld  long  fatigues.  Such  only  <TC  u^.*.u 
made  choice  of,  as  were  the  strongest  and  Lest  shaped 
in  all  Persia;  and  had  been  »ent  to  the  governors  of 
such  cities  ns  were  either  lately  founded  or  conquered 
by  Alexander.  These  had  instructed  them  in  military 


*  A  thousand  crowns. 

»  Arrinn.  de  Indie   p.  357,  ?5£. 

*  About  fifteen  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

*  O\i  J  *  (  xt***'   «•>'  '»*  *C»   cacr.Xi*   «>.).« 


Arritn. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


593 


discipline,  and  in  all  things  relating;  to  the  science  of 
war.  They  were  all  very  neatly  dressed,  and  atmtd 
after  the  Macedonian  manner.  They  came  and  en- 
raiiiped  before  the  city,  where,  drawing  up  in  battle 
arrav,  tli«-y  were  reviewed;  and  performed  their  ex- 
ercises before  the  king,  who  was  extremely  well  pit  as- 
ed  and  vt-i  y  bountiful  to  them  afterwards,  at  which  the 
Macedonians  took  great  umbrage.  And  indeed,  Alex- 
ander observing  that  the  latter  were  harassed  and 
tired  out  with  the  length  of  the  war.  and  often  vented 
niuruiuri  and  complaints  in  the  assemblies,  was,  for 
that  reason,  desirous  of  training  up  these  new  forces, 
purposely  to  check  the  licentiousness  of  the  veteran*. 
It  is  dangerous  to  disgust  a  whole  nation,  and  to  show 
too  marked  a  preference  to  foreigners. 

In  the  mean  time  Harpalus,'  whom  Alexander, 
during  his  expedition  into  India,  had  appointed  go- 
vernor of  Babylon,  quitted  his  service.  Flattering 
himself  with  the  hopes  that  this  prince  would  never 
return  from  the  wars  in  that  country,  he  had  given  a 
loose  to  all  kinds  of  licentiousness,  and  consumed  in 
his  infamous  revels  part  of  the  wealth  with  which  he 
had  been  « -nlrusted.  As  soon  as  he  was  informed  that 
Alexander,  in  his  return  from  India,  punished  very 
severely  such  of  his  lieutenant?  as  had  abused  their 
power,  he  meditated  how  he  might  best  secure  him- 
self; and  for  this  purpose  amassed  5000  talents,  that 
is,  about  750.000/. ;  assembled  6000  soldiers,  withdrew 
into  Attica,  and  landed  in  Athens.  Immediately  all 
such  orators  as  made  a  trade  of  their  eloquence.^  ran 
to  him  in  crowds,  all  ready  to  be  corrupted  by  bribes, 
as  they  were  before  by  hopes  of  them.  Harpalus  did 
not  fail  to  distribute  a  small  part  of  his  wealth  among 
these  orators,  to  win  them  over  to  his  interest,  but  he 
offered  Phocion  700  talents,'  and  even  put  his  person 
and  property  under  his  protection,  well  knowing  the 
prodigious  influence  he  had  over  the  people. 

The  fame  of  his  probity, and  particularly  of  his  dis- 
interestedness, had  gained  him  this  influence.  Philip's 
deputies  had  offered  him  great  sums  of  money  in  that 
prince's  name,  entreating  him  to  accept  them,  if  not 
for  himself,  at  least  for  his  children,  who  were  so  poor 
that  il  Toiilcl  be  impossible  for  them  to  support  the 
glory  of  his  name:  "  if  they  resemble  me,"*  replied 
Phocion,  "  the  I  ittle  spot  of  ground,  on  the  produce  of 
which  I  have  hitherto  livec',and  which  has  raised  un- 
to the  s;-|i)i  ••  you  mer.iion,  "ill  be  sufficient  to  maintain 
tln-m:  if  it  will  not,  1  do  not  inieml  to  leave  them 
wealth,  inertly  to  foment  and  heighten  their  luxury." 
Alexander,5  having  likewise  sent  him  100  talents.6 
Phocion  nsked  those  who  brought  them,  "  with  what 
design  Alexander  hail  sent  to  great  a  sum  to  him  alone 
of  all  the  Athenians?" — "It  is,"  replied  they,  "be- 
cause Alexander  look:)  upon  yon  as  the.  only  ji.st  and 
virtuous  man." — "  Let  him,  then,"  says  Phocion,  "  suf- 
fer me  still  to  enjoy  that  character,  and  be  really  what 
[  am  takt  n  for." 

The  reader  will  suppose,  that  he  did  not  give  a  more 
favourable  reception  to  the  persons  sent  by  Harpalus. 
And  indeed  he  spoke  to  them  in  very  harsh  terms,  de- 
claring that  he  should  immediately  take  such  mea- 
tures  as  would  be  very  disagreeable  to  the  person  on 
whose  errand  they  came,  in  case  he  did  not  leave  off 
bribing  the  cit)  ;  so  that  Harpalus  lost  all  hopes  from 
that  quarter. 

Demosthenes  did  not  at  first  show  more  favour  to 
Harpalus.  He  advised  the  Athenians  to  drive  him 
out  from  their  citv.  and  not  to  involve  it  in  a  war  upon 
k  very  unjust  occasion,  and  ut  the  same  time  without 
the  least  neces>-'ty. 

Some  days  after.  Harpalus,  as  an  inventory  was 
taking  ol  his  goods,  having  observed  that  Demosthenes 
took  a  particular  pleasure  in  viewing  one  of  the  king's 
cups,  and  that  he  admired  the  fashion  and  the  beauty 

i  PIu i.  in  fVrnoil.  p.  P57,  858. 

•  Plui.  in  Klioe.  |i  751. 

'   S'-v-ii  hundred  ilmu»and  rrnwni. 

«  r"i  ini-i  Mimlvx  i-runt,  idem  Inc.  inijuit,  agellui,  ilk*  (let, 
«ui  nn1  ail  li;tn<-  <li_'H>iuifm  perduxit:  lin  itisiimilc*  *unt 
'uturi,  niilu  ni.-iK  ini|«.'ii«i*  illorum  all  •u^triijue  luxuriant. 
Cor  }f<p  in  P/ioc.r  1. 

•  Pint  in  Plioc.  |i.  74<». 

•  A  luinrlr<.>.-l  (houiend  erowiw. 
Vol.  I. —75 


of  the  workmanship,  desired  him  to  take  it  in  his  hand, 
and  tell  him  lite  weight  of  the  gold.  Demostht  net 
taking  the  cup,  was  surprised  at  its  heaviness,  and  ac 
cordingly  asked  how  much  it  weighed?  Harpalui 
answered  with  a  smile,  Twenty  talent  t' ,  I  believe;  and 
that  very  evening  sent  him  that  sum  with  the  cup;  for 
so  great  was  Harpalus's  penetration,  that  he  could 
discover  by  the  air,  and  certain  glances,  the  foible  of 
a  man  struck  with  the  charms  of  gold.  Demosthenes 
could  not  resist  its  power;  but,  overcome  by  this  pre- 
sent,and  being  no  longer  master  of  himself,8  hejomed 
(MI  a  sudden  Harpalus's  party;  and  the  very  next 
morning,  having  wrapped  his  neck  well  in  wool  and 
bandages,  he  went  to  the  assembly.  The  people  the* 
ordered  him  to  rise  and  make  a  speech,  buttle  refused, 
making  signs  that  he  had  lost  his  voice;  upon  which 
some  wags  cried  aloud,  that  their  orator  had  been 
seised  in  the  night,  not  with  a  tqninancyf  but  an 
argyrancy;  thereby  intimating,  that  Harpalus's  mo- 
ney had  suppressed  his  voice. 

The  people  being  told  next  day  of  the  gift  which 
had  been  sent  to  Demosthenes,  were  highlv  exaspe- 
rated, and  refused  to  In  ar  hi*  justification.  Hurpalus 
was  thereupon  expelled  the  city;  and  in  order  to  dis- 
cover the  persons  who  had  taken  bribe«,  tiie  magis- 
trates commanded  a  strict  starch  to  be  made  in  all 
houses,  that  of  Caricles  excepted,  who  having  married 
but  a  little  before,  was  exempt  from  this  inquiry,  out 
of  respect  to  his  bride.  The  politeness  shown  on  this 
occasion  does  honour  to  Athens,  and  is  not  always 
exercised  elsewhere. 

Demosthenes  to  prove  his  innocence,  proposed  ft 
decree,  by  which  the  senate  of  tha  Areopagus  was 
empowered  to  take  cognizance  of  this  matter.  He 
was  the  first  they  tried,  and  £ned,  upon  lit  ing  con- 
victed, fifty  talents,10  lor  the  payment  of  which  ne  was 
thrown  into  prison;  however,  ne  found  means  to  es« 
cape,  and  It  it  his  country.  Demosthenes  did  not  be- 
have with  resolution  and  magnanimity  in  his  banish- 
ment, residing  generally  at  £gina  or  Troezene;  and 
every  lime  he  cast  his  eyes  on  Attica,  his  lace  would 
be  covered  with  tears;  and  he  suffered  such  words  to 
drop  from  him  as  were  unworthy  a  brave  man;  words, 
which  by  no  means  correspond  with  his  resolute  an'd 
generous  behaviour  during  his  administration.  Cicero 
was  reproached  with  the  same  weakness  in  his  exile, 
which  shows  that  great  men  are  not  such  at  all  times, 
nor  in  all  circumstances. 

It  were  to  be  wished,"  for  the  honour  of  eloquence, 
that  uhat  Pausanias  relates  in  justification  of  Demos* 
thenes  were  true;  and  it  is  very  probable  it  WHS  so. 
According  to  this  author,  Harpalus,  after  flying  from 
Athens,  was  seized  by  Philoxenus  the  Macedonian; 
and  being  racked  to  extort  from  him  the  nmnesof  such 
Athenians  as  had  been  bribed  by  him,  he  did  not  once 
mention  Demosthtnes,  whose  name,  hud  he  beea 
gniliy ,  he  would  not  have  suppressed  before  Thilox- 
enus,  as  that  orator  was  his  enemy. 

Upon  the  first  report  of  Hxrpalus's  flying  to  Athens, 
Alexander,  fully  determined  logo  in  person  to  punish 
Harpalus  and  the  Athenians,  had  commanded  a  fleet 
to  be  equipped.  But  alter  news  was  brought  that  the 
people  in  their  assembly  i-ad  ordered  him  to  depart 
their  city,  he  laid  aside  all  thoughts  of  returning  >i<to 
Europe. 

Alexander,  having  still  a  curiosity  to  tet  the  ocean, 
came  down  from  Suna,  upon  the  river  Ktikrti*:  and 
after  having  coasted  the  Persian  gulf  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Tigris,  he  wtnt  up  that  river  towards  the  urarjr 
which  was  encamped  on  the  banks  of  it,  near  the  city 
of  Opis,  under  the  command  of  Hephaeslion. 

Upon  his  arrival  tin  re,  he  published  a  declaration 


'  Twenty  thousand  crown-. 

•  Thf  expression  in  lh<-  fJreck  is  foil  of  beauty  and  »piri'. 
Plutarch   compare!  the   (.-old  which   had  been  arcc|iicd  by 
Hi  nui-ilifin-i,  tonrurrm-ii  (of  I  HP  rncmO  which  a  povernof 
liud  rt* (•••iverl  inio  hi*  city,  and  thereby  /tit\»tnri»vA  himnli 
of  lh«  romcinnd  of  it.     JUi!>iij  t»4  ii«  J«,(&i»«i'»s  «rvit 
wmuSttlfnirn  cjov»i». 

•  II  in  imrHwsilile  to  translate  the  agreeable  play  of  thpM 
Gicck  M-onU.      Ox   -,»i    fvtx}X*i,   iCf»V.»,  «XX'  •»'«{• 
J--»»>X»{  lixif  co«.  .i«T»p  T!»  t«ft*y  •*)  •'*. 

>•  Fifty  thousand  crowni.  >>  Pausan.  1.  ii.  p.  148 

2z2 


594 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


m  the  camp,  by  which  alf  the  Macedonians,  who,  by 
reason  of  their  age,  wounds,  or  any  other  infirmity, 
»  ert  unable  to  support  any  longer  the  fatigues  of  the 
lervire,  were  permitted  to  return  into  Greece;  declar- 
ing that  his  design  was  to  discharge  (hem,  to  be  boun- 
tiful to  them,  and  send  them  back  to  their  native  coun- 
try in  a  safe  and  honourable  manner.  His  intention, 
:"n  making  this  declaration,  was  to  oblige,  and  at  the 
tame  time  to  give  them  the  strongest  proof  of  his  affec- 
tion for  them.  However,  the  very  contrary  happened ; 
lor  being  already  disgusted  upon  some  other  accounts, 
especially  by  the  visible  preference  which  Alexander 
gave  to  foreigners,  they  imagined  that  his  resolution 
was  to  make  Asia  the  seat  of  his  empire,  and  to  dis- 
engage himself  from  the  Macedonians;  and  that  the 
only  motive  of  his  discharging  them,  was,  that  they 
might  make  room  for  the  new  troops  he  had  levied  in 
the  conquered  countries.  This  alone  was  sufficient  to 
exasperate  them  to  fury.  Without  observing  the  least 
order  or  discipline,  or  regarding  the  remonstrances  of 
their  officers,  they  went  to  the  king  with  mi  air  of 
insolence  which  they  had  never  assumed  till  then,  and 
with  seditious  cries  demanded  to  be  all  discharged; 
saying  farther,  that  since  he  despised  the  soldiers  who 
bad  gained  him  all  his  victories,  be  and  his  father 
Ammon  might  carry  on  the  war  against  whomsoever 
•nd  in  what  manner  they  pleased;  but  as  for  them- 
selves, they  were  fully  determined  not  to  serve  him 
any  longer. 

The  king,  no  way  surprised,  and  without  once  hesi- 
tating, leaps  from  bis  tribunal;  causes  the  principal 
mutineers,  whom  he  himself  pointed  out  to  his  guards, 
to  be  immediately  seized,  and  orders  thirteen  to  be 
punished.  This  bold  and  vigorous  action,  which 
thunderstruck  the  Macedonians,  suppressed  their  in- 
iolenre  in  an  nstant;  quite  amazed  and  confounded, 
mod  scarce  daring  to  look  at  one  another,  they  stood 
with  downcast  eyes,  and  were  so  dispirited, and  trem- 
bled to  prodigiously,  that  they  were  unable  to  speak 
or  even  to  think.  Seeing  them  in  this  condition,  he 
reascended  his  tribunal,  where,  after  repeating  to 
them,  with  *  severe  countenance,  and  a  menacing  tone 
of  voice,  the  numerous  favours  which  Philip  his  father 
bad  bestowed  upon  them,  and  all  the  marks  of  kind- 
ness and  friendship  by  which  he  himself  had  distin- 
guished them,  he  concluded  with  these  words:  "You 
all  desire  a  discharge;  1  grant  it  to  you.  Go  now, and 
publish  to  the  whole  world,  that  you  have  left  your 
prince  to  the  mercy  of  the  nations  he  had  conquered, 
who  were  more  affectionate  to  him  than  you."  Alter 
•peakiig  thii,  he  returns  suddenly  into  his  tent,  ca- 
tniers  his  old  guard;  appoints  another  in  its  place,  all 
composed  of  Persian  soldiers;  and  shuts  himself  up  for 
tome  days,  without  seeing  any  person  all  the  time. 

Had  the  Macedonians  been  sentenced  to  die,  they 
could  not  have  been  more  shocked,  than  when  news 
was  brought  them,  that  the  king  had  confided  the  care 
of  his  person  to  the  Persians.  They  could  suppress 
their  grief  no  longer,  so  that  nothing  was  heard  but 
cries,  groans,  and  lamentations.  Soon  after, they  all 
ran  together  to  the  king's  tent,  threw  down  their  aunt, 
confessing  their  guilt;  acknowledging  their  fault  with 
tear*  and  sighs;  declare  that  the  loss  of  life  will  not 
be  to  grievous  as  the  loss  of  honour;  and  protest  that 
they  will  not  leave  the  place  till  the  king  has  pardoned 
them.  Alexander  could  no  longer  resist  the  tender 
proofs  they  gave  of  their  sorrow  and  repentance;  so 
that  when  he  himself,  at  his  coming  out  of  his  tent, 
taw  them  in  this  dejected  condition,  he  could  not  re- 
frain from  tears;  and  after  some  gentle  reproaches, 
which  were  softened  by  an  air  of  humanity  and  kind- 
nest,  he  declared  so  loud  as  to  be  heard  by  them  all, 
that  he  restored  them  to  his  friendship.  This  was  re- 
storing them  to  life,  as  was  manifest  from  their  shout*. 

He  afterwards  discharged  such  Macedonians  as 
were  no  longer  able  to  carry  arms,  and  sent  them  back 
to  their  native  country  witn  rich  presents.  He  com- 
manded, thai  at  the  exhibiting  of  the  public  games, 
they  should  be  allowed  the  chief  places  in  the  theatre, 
anil  there  sit  with  crowns  on  their  heads;  and  gave 
orders  that  the  children  of  those  who  had  lost  their 
lives  in  his  service,  should  receive,  during  tneir  mi- 
aority  the  same  pay  which  had  been  given  their  fa- 


thers. Such  support  and  honours  granted  10  veteran* 
must  necessarily  ennoble,  in  a  very  conspicuous  man- 
ner, the  military  profession.  It  is  not  possible  for  a 
government  to  enrich  every  soldier  individually;  but 
it  may  animate  and  console  him  by  marks  of  distinc- 
tion, which  inspire  a  stronger  ardour  for  war,  more 
constancy  in  the  service,  and  nobler  sentiments  and 
motives. 

Alexander  appointed  Craterus  commander  of  thet* 
soldiers,  to  whom  he  gave  the  government  of  Mace- 
donia, Thessalv,  and  Thrace,  which  Antipater  had 
enjoyed;  and  the  latter  was  commanded  to  bring  th* 
recruits  instead  of  Craterus.  The  king  had  loug 
«ince  been  quite  tired  with  the  complaints  of  his  mo- 
therand  Antipater,  who  could  not  agree.  She  charg- 
ed Antipater  with  aspiring  at  sovereign  power,  and 
the  latter  complained  of  her  violent  and  untractabla 
disposition;  and  hud  often  declared  in  his  letters,  that 
she  did  not  behave  in  a  manner  suitable  to  her  dignity. 
It  was  with  some  reluctance  Antipater  resigned  hit 
government. 

From  Opis,  Alexander  arrived  at 
Ecbatana  m  Media,  where,  after  A.  M.  3680 
having  despatched  the  most  urgent  Ant.  J.  C.  324k 
affairs  of  the  kingdom,  he  again  so- 
lemnized games  and  festivals:  there  had  come  to  hio) 
from  Greece,  3000  dancers,  maker*  of  machinery,  and 
other  persons  skilled  in  diversions  of  this  kind.  It  hap 
pened  very  unluckily,  during  the  celebration  of  thes* 
festivals,  that  HephxMion  died  of  a  disease  which  h* 
brought  upon  himself.  Alexander  abandoning  him 
self  to  immoderate  drinking,  his  whole  court  followed 
his  example,  and  sometimes  spent  whole  days  and 
nights  in  these  excesses.  In  one  of  them  Hephaestiou 
lost  his  life.  He  was  the  most  intimate  iVieno  the 
king  had,  the  confidant  of  all  his  secrets,  and,  to  say 
all  in  a  word,  a  second  self.  Craterus  alone  seemed 
to  dispute  this  honour  with  him.  An  expression, 
which  one  day  escaped  that  prince,  shows  the  differ- 
ence he  made  between  these  two  courtiers.  "  Crate- 
rus," says  he,  "  loves  the  king,  but  Hepha-stion  lovet 
Alexander."  This  expression  signifies,  if  I  mistake 
not,  that  Hephaestion  was  attached,  in  a  tender  and 
affectionate  manner,  to  the  person  of  Alexander;  bat 
that  Craterus  loved  him  as  a  king,  that  is,  was  con- 
cerned for  his  reputation,  and  sometimes  was  lew 
obsequious  to  his  will,  than  zealous  for  his  glory  and 
interest.  An  excellent  character,  but  very  uncom- 
mon. 

Hephaestion  was  as  much  beloved  by  al,  the  cour- 
tiers as  by  Alexander  himself.  Modest,  even-tem- 
pered, beneficent;  free  from  pride,  avarice,  and  jea- 
lousy; he  never  abused  bis  credit  with  the  king,  noi 
preferred  himself  to  those  officers,  whose  merit  mad* 
them  necessary  to  his  sovereign.  He  was  universally 
regretted;  but  his  death  threw  Alexander  into  excel- 
sive  sorrow,  to  which  he  abandoned  himself  in  such  a 
manner,  as  was  unworthy  so  great  a  king.  He  seemed 
to  receive  no  consolation,  hut  in  the  extraordinary 
funeral  honours  to  be  paid  to  his  frienr1  on  his  arrival 
at  K*\>\  Ion,  whither  he  commanded  Perdiccas  to  carry 
his  corpfe. 

In  order  to  remove,  by  business  and  employment 
the  melancholy  ideas  which  the  death  rf  his  favourit* 
perpetually  awakened  in  his  mind,  Alexander  marched 
his  army  against  the  Cossaei,  a  warlike  nation,  inha- 
biting the  mountains  of  Media,  whom  not  one  of  th« 
Persian  monarch?  had  ever  been  ablt  to  conquer. 
However,  the  king  reduced  them  in  foi  y  days,  after- 
wards passed  the  Tigris,  and  marched  towards  Baby- 
lon. 

SECTION  XVIII.— ALEXANDER  ENT«»»  BABYUOK, 
IN  SPITE  OF  THE  SINISTER  PREDICTIONS  OF  TH» 
MAGI  AND  OTHER  SOOTHSAYERS.  HE  THERE 
FORMS  THE  PLANS  OF  SEVERAL  VOYAGES  AND 
CONQUESTS.  HE  SETS  ABOUT  REPAIRING  THE 
BREACHES  MADE  IN  THE  EMBANKMENTS  OF  THS 
TIGRIS  AND  EUPHRATES,  AND  REBUILDING  TUB 
TEMPLE  OF  BELLS.  HE  ABANDONS  HIMSELF  TO 
IMMODERATE  DRINKING,  WHICH  BRINGS  HIM  TO 
HIS  END.  THE  UNIVERSAL  GRIEF  SPREAD  OVEB 
THE  WHOLE  EMPIRE  UPON  THAT  ACCOUNT. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


595 


6AMB1S  IS  WOT  ABLE  TO  SURVIVE  HIM.  PREPA- 
RATIU.VS  ARK  MADE  TO  CONVEY  ALEXAM>ER'S 
CORPSE  TO  THE  TEMPLE  OF  JUl'ITEK  AMMON  IS 
LIBYA. 

ALEXANDER  being1  arrived  within  a  league  and  a 
balf  of  Babylon,1  the  Chuldeant,  who  pretended  to 
Know  futurity  by  the  stars,  deputed  to  dim  *oiue  of 
their  old  men,  to  warn  him  that  he  would  be  in  danger 
of  his  life,  in  case  he  entered  that  city,  and  were  very 
Urgent  with  him  to  pas*  by  it.  The  Babylonish  astro"- 
logrrs  were  held  in  such  great  reputation  that  this  ad- 
vice made  a  strange  impression  on  his  mind,  and  filled 
him  with  confusion  and  dread.  Upon  this,  after  send- 
ing several  of  the  grandees  of  his  court  to  Babylon, 
be  himself  went  another  way;  and  having  marched 
•bout  ten  leagues,  he  slopped  for  some  time  in  the 
place  where  he  had  encamped  his  army.  The  Greek 
philosophers  being  tolrl  the  foundation  of  his  fear  and 
fcnijilt-v,  waited  upon  him;  when  netting  in  the  clear- 
est lit;ht  the  principles  of  Anaxagoras,  whose  tenets 
the\  ful  lowed,  they  demonstrated  to  him,  in  the  strong- 
est manner,  the  vanity  of  astrology ;  and  made  him 
have  so  great  contempt  for  divination  in  general,  and 
for  that  ol  (he  Chaldeans  in  particular,  that  he  imme- 
diately marched  towards  Babylon  with  his  whole  ar- 
niy.  He  knew  that  there  were  arrived  in  that  city,* 
ambassadors  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  who  waited 
for  his  coming;  the  whole  earth  echoing  so  much 
with  the  terror  of  his  name,  that  the  several  nations 
CHine,  wilh  inexpressible  ardour,  to  pay  homage  to 
Alexander,  as  to  him  who  was  to  be  their  sovereign. 
This  view,  which  agreeably  soothed  the  strongest  of 
•11  his  |>assions,  contributed  very  much  to  stifle 
every  other  reflection,  and  to  make  him  carelest  of 
•II  advice  that  might  be  given  him;  so  that  he  set 
forward  with  all  possible  diligence  towards  that  great 
city,  there  to  hold,  as  it  were,  the  states-general  of 
the  world.  After  making  a  most  magnificent  entry, 
he  gave  audience  to  all  the  ambassador"!,  with  the 
grandeur  and  dignity  suitable  to  a  great  monarch, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  with  the  affability  and  polite- 
Des*  of  a  prince,  who  is  desirous  of  winning  the  af- 
fection of  all.  He  loaded  those  of  Kpidauius  with 
great  presents  for  the  deity  who  presided  over  their 
city,  as  well  as  over  health,  but  reproached  him  at 
the  same  time.  "  jEsculapius,"  says  he  "  has  show- 
ed me  but  very  little  indulgence,  in  not  preserving 
the  life  of  a  friend,  who  was  as  dear  to  me  as  my- 
self." In  private  he  discovered  a  great  friendship 
for  such  of  the  deputies  of  Greece,  as  came  to  con- 
gratulate him  on  his  victories  and  his  happy  return; 
and  he  restored  to  them  all  the  statues,  and  other  cu- 
riosities, which  Xerxes  had  carried  out  of  Greece, 
that  were  found  in  Susa,  Babylon,  Pasargada,  and 
other  places.  We  are  told  that  among  these  were  the 
gtstiifs  of  Harinodius  and  Aristogiton,  and  that  they 
were  brought  bark  to  Athens. 

The  ambassadors  from  Corinth  having  offered  him, 
in  the  name  of  theircity,  the  freedom  of  it,  he  laughed 
•t  an  ort'er  which  seemed  altogether  unworthy  ot  one 
who  had  attained  so  exulted  a  pitch  of  grandeur  and 
power.  However,  when  Alexander  was  told  .that 
Corinth  had  granted  this  privilege  to  Hercules  only, 
he  accepted  it  with  jov ;  and  piqued  himself  upon 
trending  in  his  step*,  and  resembling  him  in  all  things. 
But.  cries  Seneca,8  in  what  did  this  frantic  young 
man,  with  whom  successful  temerity  passed  for  virtue, 
retemble  Hercules'?  The  latter,  free  from  all  self-in- 
lereMed  views,  travelled  through  the  world,  merely  to 
benefit  the  several  nations  whom  he  visited,  and  to 
purge  the  earth  of  such  robbers  as  infested  it:  whereas 
Alexander,  who  is  just)  v  entitled  the  plunderer  of  na- 
tions, made  his  glory  to  consist  in  carrying  desolation 

•  Arrian.  lib.  vii.  p.  204—309.  Quint.  Curt.  lib.  x.  c.  4— 
T.  PI ui.  in  Alex.  p.  705- 707. 

v  Diml.  lib.  xvii.  p.  577— 5?<3.     Ju«tin.  lib.   xii.  e.  13—16. 

»  Uiiid  illi  *imile  habctnt  veisanu»  »dule>wen«.  rui  pro 
ririutu  erol  felix  temerilm  ?  Hrrculei  nihil  >ibi  virit. 
OrlxTti  terrarum  transivil,  non  roncupiscendo,  «ed  vindi- 
eand.i — nialurum  hiwiin,  booorum  vuidfi,  lerrarum  marn- 
qu"  (lanirir.  At  bic  a  pueritia  lalro  genliumquc  vatialor 
— •uniir.um  biinum  duxil  lerruri  esce  cunctii  murtahbu*. 
•race,  it  Btntf.  lib  i.  rap.  13. 


into  nil  places,  and  in  rendering  hiritelf  the  terror  of 
mankind. 

At  the  same  time  he  wrote  a  letter  which  wastob* 
read  publicly  in  the  assembly  of  the  Olympic  games, 
whereby  the  several  cities  ot  Greece  were  commanded 
to  permit  all  exiles  to  return  into  their  native  country 
those  excepted  who  had  committed  sacrilege,  or  anj 
other  crime  deserving  death;  and  ordered  Antipater 
to  employ  an  armed  force  against  such  cities  as  should 
refuse  to  obey.  This  letter  was  read  in  the  assembly 
But  the  Athenians  and  ./Etolians  did  not  think  them 
selves  obliged  to  put  these  orders  in  execution,  which 
seemed  to  interfere  wilh  their  liberty. 

Alexander,  after  having  despatched  these  affairs, 
finding  himself  now  at  leisure,  began  to  think  of 
Hephaeslion's  burial.  This  he  solemnized  with  • 
magnificence,  the  like  of  which  had  never  been  seen. 
As  he  himself  undertook  the  management  of  this  fu- 
neral, he  commanded  all  the  neighbouring  cities  to 
contribute  their  utmost  in  exalting  the  pomp  of  it. 
He  likewise  ordered  all  the  nations  of  Asia  to  ex- 
tinguish what  the  Persians  called  the  $ncrtdjirt,  till 
the  ceremony  of  the  interment  should  be  ended,  which 
was  considered  as  an  ill  omen,  it  being  never  practised 
in  Persia,  except  at  the  death  of  its  monarch*.  All 
the  officers  and  courtiers,  to  please  Alexander,  caused 
images  to  be  carved  of  that  favourite,  of  gold,  ivory, 
and  other  precious  materials. 

At  the  tame  time  the  king,  having  procured  a  great 
number  of  architects  and  skilful  workmen,  first  caused 
near  six  furlongs  of  the  wall  of  Babylon  to  be  beaten 
down;  and,  having  got  together  a  great  number  of 
bricks,  and  levelled  the  spot  designed  for  the  funera' 
pile,  he  had  a  most  magnificent  monumental  structure 
erected  over  it. 

This  edifice  was  divided  into  thirty  parts,  in  each 
whereof  was  raised  a  uniform  building,  the  root  of 
which  was  covered  with  gre&t  planks  of  palm-Ire* 
wood.  The  whole  formed  a  perfect  square,  the  cir- 
cumference of  which  was  adorned  with  extraordinary 
magnificence.  Each  side  was  a  furlong,  or  100  fa 
thorns  in  length.  At  the  foot  of  it,  and  in  the  first 
row,  were  set  244  prows  of  ships  gilded  on  the  but- 
tresses4 or  supporters  whereof,  the  statues  of  two  ar- 
chers, four  cubits  high,  with  one  knee  on  the  ground, 
were  fixed,  and  two  other  statues,  in  an  upright  pos- 
ture, completely  armed,  bigger  than  the  life,  being 
five  cubits  in  height.  The  spaces  between  the  prowt 
were  spread  and  adorned  wilh  purple  cloth.  Over 
these  prows  was  a  colonnade  of  large  flambeaux,  the 
shafts  of  which  were  fifteen  cubits  high,  embellished 
with  crowns  of  gold  at  the  part  where  they  are  held. 
The  flame  of  those  flambeaux  ending  at  top,  termi- 
nated towards  eagles,  which,  with  their  heads  turn- 
ed downwards,  and  extended  wings,  served  as  capi- 
tals. Dragons  fixed  near  or  upon  the  base,  turned 
their  heads  upwards  towards  the  eagles.  Over  this 
colonnade  stood  a  third,  in  the  base  of  which  was  re- 
presented, in  relievo,  a  parly  of  hunting  animals  of 
every  kind.  On  the  superior  order,  that  is  the 
fourth,  the  combat  of  the  Centaurs  was  represented 
in  gold.  Finally,  on  the  fifth,  golden  figures,  repre- 
senting lions  and  bull*,  were  placed  alternately.  Th« 
whole  edifice  terminated  with  military  trophies,  af- 
ter the  Macedonian  and  barbarian  fashion,  at  to 
many  symbols  of  the  victory  of  the  former  and  de- 
feat of  the  latter.  On  the  entablatures  and  roof 
were  represented  Syrens,  the  hollow  bodies  of  which 
were  filled  (but  to  at  not  to  be  discerned)  with  mu- 
sician", who  tang  mournful  airt  and  dirges  in  honour 
of  the  deceased.  This  edifice  was  upwards  of  130 
cubits  high,  that  is,  abo»e  195  feit. 

The  beauty  of  the  design  of  this  ttructure,  the 
singularity  and  magnificence  of  the  decorations,  and 
the  teveral  ornaments  of  it,  surpassed  the  most  won- 
derful productions  of  fancy,  and  were  all  in  an  exquisite 
taste.  Alexander  had  appointed  to  superintend  the 
building  of  this  edifice,  Staticrates,  a  great  Krchitect, 
and  admirably  well  skilled  in  mechanics,  in  all  whose, 
inventions  and  designs  there  appeared,  not  only  pro- 


•  In  Or«#Jt,'E»«Ti'Ji;,  or  tan.     Theite  »re  two  pieew 
timber  which  project  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  prow. 


596 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


digious  magnificence,  but  a  surprising  boldnetf ,  and 
such  grandeur  as  was  icarce  conceivable. 

It  was  this  artist,1  who,  in  a  conversation  some 
time  before  with  Alexander,  bad  told  him,  that  of  all 
the  mountains  he  knew,  none  would  so  well  admit  of 
bfin;;  cut  into  the  shape  of  a  man,  as  mount  Athos,  in 
Thrace:  that,  if  he  therefore  pleased  to  give  orders, 
he  would  make  this  mountain  the  most  durable  of  all 
statues,  and  that  which  would  lie  most  open  to  the 
view  of  the  universe.  In  its  left  hand  it  should  bold 
a  city,  consisting  of  10,000  inhabitants;  and  from  its 
right  should  pour  a  great  river,  whose  waters  would 
discharge  themselves  into  the  sea.  One  would  have 
thought  that  this  project  would  have  pleased  Alexan- 
der, who  sought  for  the  great  and  marvellous  in  all 
things;  nevertheless,  he  rejected  it,  and  wisely  an- 
swered, that  it  was  enough  that  there  already  was 
one  prince,  whose  folly  mount  Athos  would  eternize. 
This  wtis  meant  of  Xerxes,  who  having  endeavoured 
to  cut  through  the  isthmus  of  that  mountain,  wrote  a 
letter  to  it  in  the  most  proud  and  senseless  terms.* 
"  \Yith  regard  to  myself,"  says  Alexander,  "  mount 
Caucasus,  the  river  Tanais,*  the  Caspian  sea,  all 
which  1  passed  in  triumph,  shall  be  my  monument." 

The  expense  of  the  splendid  monument  which  this 
prince  erected  in  honour  of  Hephaestion,  with  that  of 
the  funeral,  amounted  to  upwards  of  12,000  talents, 
that  is,  more  than  1,800,0001.  But  what  man  was 
ever  so  ridiculously  and  extravagantly  profuse!  All 
this  gold,  all  this  silver,  was  no  other  than  the  blood 
of  nations,  and  the  substance  of  provinces,  which 
were  thus  sacrificed  to  a  vain  ostentation. 

To  crown  the  affection  which  Alexander  had  for  his 
deceased  friend,  something  was  still  wanting  to  the 
honours  he  paid  him,  which  might  raice  him  above 
human  nature;  and  this  was  what  he  proposed,  and 
for  that  purpose  had  sent  to  the  temple  of  Ammon  a 
trusty  person  named  Philip,  to  inquire  the  will  of  the 
fod.  It  doubtless  was  the  echo  of  that  of  Alexander; 
•nd  the  answer  was,  that  sacrifices  might  be  offered 
to  Hephaestion  as  a  demi-god.  These  were  not  spared 
in  any  manner;  Alexander  himself  first  setting1  the 
example,  when  he  made  a  great  feast,  to  which  up- 
wards of  10,000  persons  were  invited.  At  the  same 
time  he  wrote  to  Cleomenes,  governor  of  Egypt,  com- 
manding him  to  build  a  temple  to  Hephaestiou  in  Alex- 
andria, and  another  in  the  island  of  Pharos.  In  this 
letter  (which  is  still  extant,)  to  excite  his  diligence, 
•nd  to  hasten  the  work,  he  grants  the  governor,  who 
was  despi*ed  universally  for  his  injustice  and  rapine, 

•  general  pardon  for  all  his  crimes,  past,  present,  and 
future;  provided  that,  at  his  return,  the  temple  and 
city  should  be  completed.    And  now  nothing  was  seen 
but  new  altars,  new    temples,  and   new   festivals;  no 
oaths  were  administered  but  in  the  name  of  the  new 
deity;  to  question  his  divinity   was  a  capital  crime. 
An  old   officer  (a  friend  of  Hephaestion)  having-  be- 
wailed  him  as  dead,  in  passing   before  his  tomb,  had 
like  to  have  been   put  to  death  for  it;  nor  would   he 
have  been  pardoned,  had  not  Alexander  been  assured, 
that  the  officer  wept,  merely  from  some  remains  of  ten- 
derness, and  not  as  doubting  Hephaestion's  divinity. 
I  cannot  say  wintrier  Alexandtr  prevailed  so  far,  as 
to  make  any  one  give  credit  to  Hephaestion's  divinity  ; 
but  he  himself  appeared,  or  at  least  endeavoured  Id 
appear,  firmly  persuaded  of  it;  and  gloried,  not  only 
that  he  had  a  god  for  his  father,  hut  that  he  himself 
Could  make  gods.     How  ridiculous  is  all  this! 

During  almost  a  year  that  Alexander  continued  in 
Babylon,  he  revolved  a  great  number  of  projects  in  his 
mint!;  such  as  to  go  round  Africa  by  *ea;  to  make 

•  complete  discovery  of  all  the  nations  lying  round 
the  Caspian  sea, and  inhabiting  its  coasts;  to  conquer 
Arabia:  to   make  war  against  Carthage,  and  to  sub- 
due the  rest  of  Europe.     The  very  thoughts  of  silting 
still  fatigued  him,  and  the  great  vivacity  of  his  imagi- 
nation ana  ambition  would  never  suffer  him  to  be  at 


I   P'ut.  ile  forlun.  Alex.  mrm.  i.  [>.  335, 

•  Proud  Alhue,  who  lificsl  thy  hea«l  to  hoarm,  be  not  to 
•old  is  In  oppose  tu  my  workmen  ouch  rook«  and  stones  an 
they  rannoi  cut  ;  oiliprwiw  I  will  cut  the*  quite  to  pk»<v«, 
%ad  throw  thee  into  the  sen.  Ftutartk,  dc  ira  cohib.  p.  555. 

>  Tti«  Uxartei  is  ben  meant. 


rest;  nay,  could  he  have  conquered  the  whole  world 
he  would  have  sought  a  uew  one,  to  satiate  the  avidity 
of  his  desires. 

The  embellishing  of  Babylon  also  employed  hii 
thoughts  very  much.  Finding  it  surp«?stii  in  extent, 
in  conveniency.and  in  whatever  can  be  wisind,  either 
for  the  necessities  or  pleasuics  of  life,  all  the  other 
cities  of  the  east,  he  resolved  to  make  it  the  seat  of 
his  empire;  and  for  that  purpose,  was  desirous  of 
adding  to  it  all  the  conveniences  and  ornaments 
possible. 

This  city,  as  well  as  the  country  round  about  it, 
had  suffered  prodigiously  by  the  breaking  of  the  bank 
or  dike  of  the  Euphrates,  at  the  head  of  the  canal  called 
Pallsu  opa.  The  river  running  out  of  its  usual  channe* 
by  this  breach,  overflowed  the  whole  country;  and 
forcing  its  way  perpetually,  the  breach  grew  HI  last  so 
wide,  that  it  would  have  cost  almost  ts  much- jo  repair 
the  bank,  as  the  raising  of  it  had  done  at  first.  So 
little  water  was  left  in  the  channel  of  the  Euphrates 
about  Babylon,  that  there  was  scarce  depth  enough 
for  small  boats,  which  consequently  was  of  great  pre- 
judice to  the  city. 

Alexaodtr  undertook  to  remedy  this,  for  which 
purpose  he  embarked  upon  the  Euphrates,  in  order  to 
lake  a  vitw  of  the  place.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that 
he  reproached,  in  a  ludicrous,  insulting  tone  of  voice, 
the  Magi  and  Chaldeans,  who  accompanied  him,  for 
the  vanity  of  their  predictions;  since  notwithstanding 
the  ill  omens  they  had  endeavoured  to  terrify  him  with, 
(as  if  he  had  been  a  credulous  woman)  he  however 
had  entered  Babxlon,  and  was  returned  from  it  very 
safe.  Attentive  to  nothing  but  the  subject  of  his 
voyage,  he  went  and  viewed  the  breach,  and  gave  the 
proper  orders  for  repairing  and  restoring  it  to  its  for- 
mer condition. 

This  design  of  Alexander  merited  the  greatest  ap- 
plause. Such  works  are  truly  worthy  great  princes, 
and  give  immortal  honour  to  their  name,  since  thej 
are  not  the  effect  of  a  ridiculous  vanity,  but  solely 
calculated  for  the  public  good.  By  the  execution  of 
this  project,  he  would  have  recovered  a  w  hole  provine 
which  lay  underwater;  and  have  made  the  river  more 
navigable,  and  consequently  of  greater  service  to  the 
Bab)  Ionian*,  by  turning  it  all  again  into  its  cbanne  ai 
before. 

This  work,  after  having  been  carried  on  the  length 
of  thirty  furlongs  (a  league  and  a  half,)  was  stopped 
by  difficulties  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  soil;  and  the 
death  of  this  prince,  which  happened  soon  after,  put 
an  end  to  this  project,  and  several  others  he  had  formed. 
A  supreme  cause,  unknown  to  men,  prevented  its  ex- 
ecution. The  real  obstacle  to  the  success  of  it,  was 
the  curse  which  God  had  pronounced  against  this  city ; 
an  anathema  which  no  human  power  could  divert  or 
retard.5  "  I  will  cut  off  from  Babylon  the  name  and 
remnant,"  had  the  Lord  of  hosts  sworn  above  300 
years  before:  "  I  will  also  make  it  a  possession  (ot 
the  bittern,  and  pools  of  water:  and  I  will  sweep  it 
with  the  besom  of  destruction.* — It  shall  never  be  in- 
habited, neither  shall  it  be  dwelt  in  from  generation  to 
generation — neither  shall  the  shepherds  make  their 
told  there."  Heaven  and  earth  would  sooner  have 
passed  away,  than  Alexander's  design  have  been  put 
in  execution.  IS'o  river  was  now  to  tlow  by  Bali}  Ion; 
the  places  round  it  were  to  be  overflowed  and  changed 
into  uninhabitable  fens;  it  was  to  be  rendered  inac- 
cessible, by  the  prodigious  quantities  of  mud  and  dirt; 
and  the  city,  as  well  as  the  country  about  it,  were  to 
be  covered  with  stagnated  waters,  which  would  make 
all  access  to  it  impracticable.?  Thus  it  now  lies;  and 
all  things  were  to  conspire  to  reduce  it  to  this  cUjerted 
slate,  in  order  that  the  prophecy  might  be  completely 
fulfilled;8  "  For  the  Lord  of  hosts  hath  pu. -posed, and 
who  shall  disannul  it?  And  his  hand  is  stretched  out, 
and  who  shall  turn  it  back?'  Nothing  shows  more 
evidently  the  strength  and  weight  of  this  invincible 
curse,  than  the  efforts  of  the  most  powerful  prince  that 


«  Unas  Pelln'0  juveni  non  lufficit  orbii.    Jut. 

•  I-.*  xiv.  22.  '£3.  •  Chap.  xiii.  30. 
'  See  what  u  suid  on  this  subject  in  the  liiitury  nl' 

•  Isa.  xiv.  27. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


597 


ever  reigned ;  a  prince,  the  most  obstinate  that  ever 
wag,  with  regard  to  the  carrying  on  his  projects;  a 
prince,  of  whose  enterprises  none  had  ever  miscarried; 
and  who  failed  in  this  only,  though  it  did  not  seem  so 
difficult  as  the  rest. 

Another  design  which  Alexander  meditated,  and 
had  most  at  heart,  was  the  repairing  the  temple  of 
fielus.  Xerxes  had  demolished  it  on  his  return  from 
Greece,  and  it  had  lain  in  ruins  ever  since.  Alexander 
was  resolved,  not  only  to  rebuild  it,  but  even  to  raise 
a  much  more  magnificent  temple.  Accordingly,  he 
caused  all  the  rubbish  to  be  removed ;  and  finding  that 
the  Magi,  to  whose  cure  he  had  left  this,  went  on  but 
•lowly,  he  made  his  soldiers  work.  Notwithstanding 
10,000  of  them  were  daily  employed  at  it,  for  two 
months  successively,  the  work  was  not  finished  at  the 
death  of  that  prince,  so  prodigious  were  its  ruins. 
When  it  came  to  the  turn  of  the  Jewish  soldiers  who 
were  in  his  army,1  to  work  as  the  rest  had  done,  they 
could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  give  their  assistance; 
but  excused  themselves  with  saying,  that  as  idolatry 
wai  forbidden  by  the  tenets  of  their  religion,  they 
therefore  were  not  allowed  to  assist  in  the  building  of  a 
temple  designed  for  idolatrous  worship;  and  accord- 
ingly not  one  lent  a  hand  on  this  occasion.  They 
were  punished  for  disobedience,  but  all  to  no  purpose; 
so  that,  at  last,  Alexander  admiring  their  constancy, 
discharged,  and  sent  them  home.  This  delicate  reso- 
lution of  the  Jews  is  a  lesson  to  many  Christians,  as 
it  teaches  them  that  they  are  not  allowed  to  join  or 
assist  in  the  commission  of  an  action  that  is  contrary 
to  the  law  of  God. 

One  cannot  forbear  admtring  the  conduct  of  Provi- 
dence on  this  occcasion.  God  had  broken  to  pieces, 
by  the  hand  of  his  servant  Cyrus,*  the  ido!  Belus.the 
god  who  rivalled  the  Lord  of  Israel:  he  afterwards 
caused  Xerxes  to  demolish  his  temple.  These  first 
blows  which  the  Lord  struck  at  Babylon,  were  so  many 
omens  of  its  total  ruin,  and  it  was  as  impossible  for 
Alexander  to  complete  the  rebuilding  of  this  temple, 
as  for  Julian,  some  centuries  after,  to  restore  that  of 
Jerusalem. 

Although  Alexander  employed  himself  in  the  works 
above  mentioned,  during  his  stay  in  Babylon,  he  spent 
the  greatest  part  of  his  time  in  such  pleasures  as  that 
city  artorded;  and  one  would  conclude,  that  the  chief 
aim,  both  of  his  occupations  and  diversions,  was  to 
•tupify  himself,  and  todrive  frcm  his  mind  the  melan- 
choly and  afflicting  ideas  of  an  impending  death,  with 
which  he  was  threatened  by  all  the  predictions  of  the 
Magi  and  other  soothsayers:  for  though  in  certain 
moments,  he  seemed  not  to  regard  the  various  notices 
which  had  been  given  him.  he  was  however  seriously 
affected  with  them  inwardly;  and  these  gloomy  re- 
flections were  for  ever  returning  to  his  mind.  They 
terrified  him  at  last  to  such  a  degree,  that  whenever 
the  most  insignificant  thing  happened  (if  ever  so  lit- 
tle extraordinary  and  unusual)  his  imagination  swel- 
led it  immediately  to  a  prodis^.and  interpreted  it  into 
an  unhappy  omen.  The  palace  was  now  filled  with 
sacrificers'with  person*  whose  office  was  to  perform 
expiations  and  purifications,  and  with  others  who  pre- 
tended to  see  into  futurity  and  prophesy  things  to 
come.  It  was  certainly  a  spectacle  worthy  a  philoso- 
phic eye,  to  see  a  prince,  at  whose  nod  the  world 
trembled, abandoned  to  the  strongest  terrors;  so  true 
it  is,  says  Plutarch,  that  if  the  contempt  of  the  gods, 
ami  the  incredulity  which  prompts  us  neither  to  fear 
nor  believe  any  th'ing,  be  a  great  misfortune,  supersti- 
tion, which  enslaves  the  soul  to  the  most  abject  fears, 
the  mofrt  ridiculous  follies,  is  a  misfortune  no  less  to 
be  dreaded, and  no  less  fatal  in  its  consequences.  It 
is  plain  that  God,  by  a  just  judgment,  took  a  pleasure 
in  degrading,  before  the  eyes  of  all  nation*,  nnd  in 
every  age,  and  in  sinking  lower  than  the  condition  of 
the  vulgar,  the  man  who  had  affected  to  set  himself 
above  human  nature,  and  equal  himself  to  the  Deitv. 
This  prince  had  sought,  in  all  his  actions,  that  vain 
glory  of  conquest  which  men  most  admire;  and  to 
which  they  affix,  more  than  to  any  thing  else,  the  idea 


>  Joirphu*  contra  Appion.  lih.  j.  cap.  8. 
t  God  gives  him  thii  nauje  in  Isaiah. 


of  grandeur:  and  God  delivers  hinr.  up  to  aridiculooi 
superstition,  which  men  of  good  sense  and  understand- 
ing despise  most,  and  than  which  nothing  can  be  more 
weak  or  grovelling. 

Alexander  was  therefore  for  ever  solenmiiing  new 
festivals,  and  perpetually  at  new  banquets,  in  which 
he  quaffed  with  his  usual  intemperance.  After  having 
spent  a  whole  nigl.l  in  carousing,  a  second  entertain- 
ment was  proposed  to  him.  He  met  accordingly, and 
there  were  twenty  guests  nt  table.  He  drank  to  the 
health  of  every  person  in  company,  and  then  pledged 
them  severally.  After  this,  calling  for  Hercules'* 
cup,  which  held  six  bottles,  it  was  filled,  when  he 
poured  it  all  down,  drinking  to  a  Mctcedonian  of  the 
company,  Proteas  by  name,  and  afterward*  pledged 
him  again,  in  the  same  enormous  bumper.  He  had 
no  sooner  swallowed  it,  than  he  fell  upon  the  floor. 
"  Here,  then,"  cries  Seneca,*  (describing  the  fatal 
effects  of  drunkenness.)  "  is  this  hero,  invincible  by  all 
the  toils  of  prodigious  marches,  by  the  dangers  of 
sieges  and  combats,  by  the  most  violent  extremes  of 
heat  and  cold;  here  he  lies,  conquered  by  his  intem- 
perance, and  struck  to  the  earth  by  the  fatal  cup  of 
Hercules." 

In  this  condition  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  fever, 
and  carried  half  dead  to  his  palace.  The  fever  ,-on- 
linued,  though  with  some  considerable  intervals,  in 
which  he  gave  the  necessary  orders  lor  the  sailing  of 
the  fleet,  and  the  marching  of  his  land  forces,  being 
persuaded  he  should  soon  recover.  But  at  last,  finding 
himself  past  all  hopes,  and  his  voice  beginning  to  fail, 
he  drew  his  ring  from  his  finger, and  gaveit  to  Herdic- 
ca«,  with  orders  to  convey  his  corpse  to  the  temple  ol 
Animon. 

Notwithstanding  his  great  weakness,*  he  however 
struggled  with  death,  and  raising  himself  upon  his  el* 
bow,  presented  his  soldiers  (to  whom  he  could  not  re- 
fuse this  last  testimony  of  friendship,)  his  dying  hand 
to  kiss.  After  this,  his  principal  courtiers  «!-k ing  to 
whom  he  left  the  empire:  he  answered,"  To  the  moft 
worthy ;"  adding,"  that  he  foresaw  the  decision  of  this 
would  give  occasion  to  strange  funeral  gmnes  alter  his 
decease."  And  Perdiccas,  inquiring  farther  at  what 
time  they  should  pay  him  divine  honours;  he  replied, 
"  When  you  are  happy."  These  were  his  last  words, 
and  soon  after  he  expired.  He  was  thirty-two  yean 
and  eight  months  old,  of  which  he  had  reigned  twelve. 
He  died  in  the  middle  of  the  spring,  the  first  year  of 
the  cxivth  Olympiad. 

No  one, says  Plutarch  and  Arrian, 

suspected  then  that  Alexander  h»d  A.  M.  '3683. 
been  poisoned;  and  yet  it  is  at  this  Ant.  J.  C.  321. 
time  that  such  reportsgenerally  pre- 
vail. But  the  state  of  his  body  proved  that  he  did  not 
die  by  that  means;  forall  his  chiefofficers  disagreeing 
among  themselves,  the  corpse,  though  it  lay  quite 
neglected  for  several  days  in  Babylon,  which  standi 
in  a  hot  climate,  did  not  show  the  least  symptoms  of 
putrefaction.  The  true  poison  which  brought  him  to 
his  end  was  wine,  which  has  killed  many  thousand*, 
besides  Alexander.  It  was  nevertheless  believed  af- 
terwards, that  this  prince  had  been  poisoned  by  the 
treachery  of  Anlipater's  sons;  that  Calender,  the 
eldest  ol  them,  brought  the  poison  from  Greece;*  that 
lolas,  his  younger  brother,  threw  the  fatal  draught 
into  Alexander's  cup,  of  which  he  was  the  bearer;  and 
that  he  cunningly  chose  the  lime  of  the  grent  feag'. 


•  Alexundrum  tot  ilinera,  lot  prKlia.  lot  hii'mis.  per  qua*. 
»icta  temper  im  locorumque  dimrullale,  transicrat,  tot  flu- 
miiia,  ex   i?  olo  cadentia,  lot  maria  tutum  dimi«  runt  ;  io- 
tem|K>rantia  Iiibendi  el  ille  Hernulineus  ac  fatalis  sryphui 
condidil.     Srnee.  Kpitt.W. 

•  Quanqtiam    violt-mia    morhi    dilabrhatur,    in    rubilom 
tnmen  erectu*.  dextram  omiiiuim,  nui  earn  contir. 

lent,  porrexit.  Quit  autem.  illam  ofcnlari  non  rnrri'rot, 
qua;  jam  falo  opprema,  irmximi,  exerciliia  comploxui,  hu- 
manitate  quam  tpirita  vividiurc,  eufficit  7  fal.  Maz.  I.  v. 
r.  1. 

•  It  in  pretended  that  thii  poison  wst  an  extremely  coW 
water,  which  distill  drop  bv  drop,  from  a  rock   in  Arcadia, 
called  Nonacris.    Very  little  of  it  fall« :  and  it  is  M>  irriroo- 
nioas,  that  it  corrmWwhatever  vrwel  rec»M»Cf  it.  thrwe  ••• 
copied  which  are  made  of  a  mule'«  h«of.     We  are  told  that 
it  was  hroupht  for  thif  horrid  purpose  from  Greece  to  Babj. 
loo,  in  a  vo«tel  of  the  lattel  *oru 


598 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


mentioned  before,  in  order  that  the  prodigious  quanti- 
ty of  wine  he  then  drank,  might  conceal  the  true  cause 
of  his  death.  The  state  of  Antipater's  aliairs  at  that 
time,  p.ave  some  grounds  for  this  suspicion.  He  was 
persuaded  that  he  had  been  recalled  with  no  othei 
view  limn  to  ruin  him,  because  of  his  nial-administra- 
tion  during  his  vice-royalty  ;  and  it  wai  not  altogether 
improbable,  that  he  commanded  his  own  son  to  com- 
mit a  crime,  which  would  save  his  own  life,  by  taking 
away  that  of  his  sovereign.  An  undoubted  cncum 
stance  is,  that  he  could  never  wash  out  this  stain;  am 
that  as  long  as  he  lived,  the  Macedonians  (itttsted  hin 
as  a  traitor  who  had  poisoned  their  king.  Aristotle 
was  al-o  suspected,  but  with  no  great  foundation. 

Whether  Alexander  lost  his  life  by  poison  or  by 
excessive  drinking.it  is  surprising  to  see  the  prediction 
of  the  Magi  and  soothsayers, with  regard  to  hi«  dying 
in  Babylon, so  exactly  fulfilled.  It  is  certain  and  in- 
disputable, that  God  had  reserved  to  himself  alone  the 
knowledge  of  futurity;  and  if  the.  soothsayers  and 
oracles  have  sometimes  foretold  things  which  really 
came  to  pass,  they  could  do  it  in  no  other  way  than 
by  their  impious  correspondence  with  devils,  who  by 
their  penetration  and  natural  sagacity,  find  out  several 
methods  whereby  they  dive  to  a  ceitain  degree  into 
futurity,  with  regard  to  approaching  events;  and  art- 
enabled  to  make  predictions,  which  though  they  ap- 
pear above  the  reach  of  human  understanding,  are  not 
yet  above  that  of  malicious  spirits  of  darkness.  The 
Knowledge  those  evil  spirits  have  of  all  the  circum- 
stances which  precede  and  Uad  to  an  event;1  the  part 
they  frequently  bear  in  it,  by  inspiring  such  of  the 
wicked  as  are  given  up  to  them,  with  the  thoughts  and 
desiie  of  doing  certain  actions,  and  Committing  cer- 
tain ciiines;  an  inspiration  to  which  they  are  sure 
those  wicked  persons  will  consent;  by  these  things, 
devils  are  enabled  to  foresee  and  foretell  certain  par- 
ticulars. They,  indeed,  often  mistake  in  their  con- 
jectures, but  God  also  sometimes  permits  them  to  suc- 
ceed in  them,"  in  order  to  punish  the  impiety  of  those, 
who,  in  contradiction  to  his  commands,  inquire  their 
fate  of  such  lying  spirits. 

The  moment  that  Alexander's  death  was  known, 
the  whole  palace  echoed  with  cries  and  groans.  The 
vanquished  bewailed  him  with  as  many  tears  as  the 
victors.  The  grief  for  his  death  occasioning  the  re- 
membrance of  his  many  good  qualities,  while  all  his 
faults  were  forgotten.  The  Persians  declared  him  to 
have  been  the  most  just,  the  kindest  sovereign  that 
ever  reigned  over  them;  the  Macedonians  the  best,  the 
most  valiant  prince  in  the  universe;  and  all  exclaimed 
against  the  gods  for  having  enviously  bereaved  man- 
kind of  him  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  and  the  height  of 
his  fortune.  The  Macedonians  imagined  they  saw 
Alexander,  with  a  firm  and  intrepid  air,  still  lead  them 
on  to  battle,  besiege  cities,  climb  walls,  and  reward 
such  as  had  distinguished  themselves.  They  then 
reproached  themselves  for  having  refused  him  divine 
honours;  and  confessed  they  hud  been  ungrateful  and 
impious,  for  bereaving  him  of  a  name  he  so  justly 
merited. 

After  paying  him  this  homage  of  veneration  and 
tearst  they  turned  their  whole  thoughts  and  reflections 
en  themselves,  and  the  sad  condition  to  which  they 
were,  reduced  by  Alexander's  death.  They  considered 
that  they  were  on  the  farther  fide  (with  respect  to 
Macedonia)  of  the  Euphrates,  without  a  leader  to 
head  them,  and  surrounded  with  enemies,  who  abhor- 
red their  new  yoke.  As  the  king  died  without  nomina- 
ting hi«  succe«or,a  dreadful  futurity  presented  itself 
to  their  imagination;  and  exhibited  nothing  but  divi- 
sions, civil  wars,  and  a  fatal  necessity  of  still  shedding 
their  blood,  and  of  opening  their  former  wounds,  not 
to  conquer  Asia, but  only  to  give  a  king  to  it:  and  to 


>  DcmoneM  pervernis  (wilent)  malefacta  puadrro,  de  quo- 
rum morilius  cert)  stint  qu&d  fint  eis  liilia  *uadentibus  con- 
•enauri.  Suadent  autem  miris  tnvisibilibu*  mod  is.  5.  .#«• 
gutl.de  Mvintt.  Damon,  p.  509. 

*  Funle  est  el  win  incongruum,  nt  omnipoteni  et  Justus 
ad  corinn  pa-num  quibua  a'a  prcdiruntur — occultn  appnratu 
•)iiii«teiiorum  nuorum  etiam  »piritibu«  talibus  aliquid  divi- 
natioiiiH  iin|*rtmt.  5.  Jlvg.  de  Die.  Quasi,  ad  Simplic.  I 
ti  QuMft.  3 


raise  to  the  throne  perhaps  some  mean  officer  or  wuk 
ed  wretch. 

This  great  mourning  was  not  confined  merely  to 
Bab*  Ion,  but  spread  over  all  the  province;  and  the 
news  of  it  soon  reached  Darius'*  mother.  One  of  her 
grand-daughters  was  with  her,  still  inconsolable  for 
the  loss  ol  Hephsestion  her  husband,  and  the  .sight  of 
the  public  calamity  recalled  all  her  private  uoes.  But 
Sysigambis  bewailed  the  several  misfortunes  of  her 
family  ;  and  this  new  affliction  awakrd  the  remem- 
brance of  nil  its  former  sulierings.  One  would  have 
thought  that  Dai  ins  was  but  jolt  dead,  and  that  this 
unfortunate  mother  solemnized  the  funeral  of  two  sons 
at  the  same  time.  She  wept  the  living  no  less  than 
the  dead:  "Who  now,"  would  she  say,  "will  take 
care  of  my  daughters?  where  shall  we  find  another 
Alexander?"  She  would  fancy  she  saw  them  again 
reduced  to  a  state  of  captivity,  and  that  they  had  lost 
their  kingdom  a  second  time:  but  with  this  difference, 
that  now  Alexander  WHS  gone  they  had  no  refuge  left. 
At  last  she  sunk  under  her  grief.  This  princes*,  who 
had  borne  with  patience  the  death  of  htr  father, 
her  husband,  of  fourscore  of  her  brothers,  who  were 
murdered  in  one  day  by  Ochus,  and  to  say  all  in  one 
word,  that  of  Darius  her  son,  and  the  ruin  of  her  fami- 
ly ;  though  she  had,  1  say,  submitted  patiently  to  all 
these  losses,  she  however  had  not  strength  sutfu  lent 
to  support  herself  alter  the  death  of  Alexander.  She 
would  not  trtke  any  sustenance,  and  starved  hersell  to 
death,  to  avoid  surviving  this  last  calamity. 

After  Alexander's  death,  great  contentions  arose 
among  the  Macedonians,  about  appointing  him  a 
successor;  of  which  1  shall  give  an  account  in  its 
proper  place.  After  seven  days  spent  in  Confufktfl 
mid  disputes,  it  was  agreed  that  Aridaeus,  bustard 
brother  to  Alexander,  should  be  declared  king,  and 
that  in  case  Roxana,  who  was  eight  months  gone  with 
child,  should  be  delivered  of  a  son,  he  should  share 
the  throne  in  conjunction  with  Aridirus,  and  that 
Perdiccas  should  have  the  care  of  both;  for  Aridaeus 
was  an  idiot,  and  wanted  a  guardian  as  much  as  a 
child. 

The  Egyptians  and  Chaldeans  having  embalmed 
the  king's  corpse  after  their  manner,  Aridaeus  wai 
appointed  to  convey  it  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter- 
Ainmon.  Two  w  hole  years  were  employed  in  prepa- 
ring for  this  magnificent  funeral,* which  made  Oly  inpi- 
as  bewail  the  late  of  herson,  who  having  had  the  ambi- 
tion to  rank  himself  among  the  gods,  was  so  long  de- 
prived of  burial;  a  privilege  generally  allowed  to  the 
meanest  of  mortals. 

SECTION  XIX. — THE  JUDGMENT  WHICH  WE  ARK 
TO  FORM  OF  ALEXAMDER. 

The  reader  would  not  be  satisfied,  if,  after  having 
iivtn  a  detail  of  Alexander's  actions,  I  should  not 
here  take  notice  of  the  judgment  which  we  are  to 
form  of  them;  especially  as  authors  have  entirely 
diflered  in  their  opinions  w:ith  regard  to  the  merits  of 
this  prince.  Some  have  applauded  him  with  a  kind 
of  ecstacy  as  the  model  of  a  perfect  hero,  which  opi- 
nion seems  to  be  the  most  prevalent:  others,  on  the 
contrarv,  have  represented  him  in  such  colours  as  at 
least  sully,  if  not  quite  eclipse,  the  splendour  of  his 
victories. 

This  diversity  of  sentiment  denotes  that  cl  Alex- 
ander's qualities;  and  it  must  be  confessed,  that  good 
and  evil,  virtues  and  vices,  were  never  more  equally 
Blended  in  any  prince.4  But  this  is  not  all;  for  Alex- 
ander appears  very  diHerriit,  according  to  the  times  01 
•ircuimtances  in  which  we  consider  him,  as  Livy  has 
very  justly  observed.  In  the  inquiry  he  makes  concern- 
ing the  fate  of  Alexander's  arms,  supposing  he  had 
turned  them  towards  Italy,  he  discovers  in  him  a  kind 
of  double  Alexander;8  the  one  wise,  temperate,  ju 


»  yElian.l.  xiii.  c.  30. 

*  Luxurifi,  induatria1  ;  comitate,  arrogantiA  ;  malii  bonb- 
que  ambus  mixtui.  Tacit. 

>  Et  Inquimur  de  Alexandra  nomlurn  mcreo  recundit 
rebus,  quarum  nemo  intolrrantior  fuit.  Qui  si  ex  hahita 
love,  fortune,  novique,  ul  ita  dicam,  infenii,  quod  sibi 
victor  induerat,  spectetur,  Darin  mupis  similis  quam  Aler 
nndro  in  Italiam  vetiiinet.et  exercilum  Macedonia;  obliliuk) 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


599 


diciou?,  brave,  intrepid,  but  at  (he  same  time  prudent 
and  circumspect;  the  other  immersed  in  all  (he  wan- 
toniK -i  .-it'  a  haughty  prosperity;  vain,  prou.l,  arro- 
gant, fiery;  softened  by  voluptuousness,  abandoned 
to  intemperance  and  excesses;  in  »  word,  resembling 
Darius  rather  than  Alexander;  ami  having  made  the 
Macedonians  degenerate,  into  all  the  vices  of  (lie  Per- 
sians, by  the  new  turn  of  mind,  and  the  new  manners 
he  assumed  alter  his  conquests. 

I  shall  have  an  eye  to  this  plan  in  the  account  I  am 
now  to  give  of  Alexander's  character,  and  shall  con- 
sider it  uuJer  two  aspects, nnd  in  a  manner  two  eras; 
fiist,  from  his  youth  to  the  battle  of  Issus,  and  the 
siege  of  Tyre,  which  followed  soon  after;  and  se- 
condly, from  that  victory  to  his  death.  The  former 
will  exhibit  to  us  great  qualities  with  fewdifects  (ac- 
cording to  the  idea  the  heathens  had  of  these:)  the 
second  will  represent  to  us  enormous  vices;  and,  not- 
withstanding the  splendour  of  so  many  victories,  very 
little  true  or  solid  merit, even  with  regard  to  warlike 
actions,  :t  few  battles  excepted,  in  which  he  sustained 
his  reputation. 

First  Part. 

We  are  first  to  acknowledge  and  admire,  in  Alex- 
ander, a  happy  disposition,  cultivated  and  improved  by 
an  excellent  education.  He  had  a  great,  noble,  and 
generous  soul.  Fie  delighted  in  beneficence  and  libe- 
rality;1 qualities  he  had  acquired  in  his  infant  years. 
A  yo'ing  lad,  whose  business  it  was  to  gather  up 
and  throw  the  balls  when  he  played  at  tennis,  to  whom 
he  had  given  nothing,  taught  him  a  good  lesson  on 
that  subject.  As  he  always  threw  the  ball  to  the  other 
player?,  the  king,  with  an  angry  air,  cried  to  him, 
"  And  am  I  then  to  have  no  ball  1" — "  No,  Sir,"  replied 
the  lad.  "you  do  not  ask  me  for  it."  This  witty  and 
ready  answer  gave  great  satisfaction  to  the  prince,  who 
fell  a  iHiighing,  and  afterwards  was  very  liberal  to  him. 
After  (his,  there  was  no  occasion  to  excite  him  to  acts 
of  generosity ;  for  he  would  be  quite  angry  with  such 
as  refused  them  at  his  hands.  Finding  Phocion  con- 
tinue inflexible  on  this  head,  he  told  him  by  letter, 
"  that  he  would  no  longer  be  his  friend,  in  case  he  re- 
fused to  accept  of  his  favours." 

Alexander,  from  his  early  years,  as  if  he  had  been 
lensible  of  the  mighty  things  to  which  he  was  born, 
endeavoured  to  shine  on  all  occasions, and  appear  su- 
perior to  all  others.  No  one  was  ever  fired  with  so 
strong  a  love  for  glory;  and  it  i«  well  known,  that 
ambition,  which  is  considered  by  Christians  as  a  great 
vice,  was  looked  upon  by  the  heathens  as  a  great  vir- 
tue. It  was  that  which  made  Alexander  support  with 
courage  all  the  toils  and  fatigues  necessary  for  those 
who  would  distinguish  themselves,  in  the  exercises 
both  of  body  and  mind.  He  was  accustomed  very 
early  to  a  sober,  hard,  plain  way  of  life,  uncorrupted 
with  luxury  or  delicacy  of  any  kind;  a  way  of  life 
highly  advantageous  to  young  soldiers. 

[  do  not  know  whether  any  prince  in  the  world  had 
a  nobler  education  than  Alexander.  He  was  very 
conversant  in  eloquence,  poetry,  polite  learning,  the 
whole  circle  of  arts,  and  the  most  abstracted  and  most 
sublime  sciences.  How  happv  was  he  in  meeting 
with  so  great  a  preceptor!  None  but  an  Aristotle 
was  fit  for  an  Alexander.  I  am  overjoyed  to  find  the 
disciple  pay  so  illustrious  a  testimony  of  respect  to  his 
master,  by  declaring  he  was  more  indebted  to  him  in 
one  sense  than  to  his  father.  A  man  ivho  thinks  and 
speaks  in  this  manner,  must  be  fully  sensible  of  the 
great  advantages  of  a  good  education. 

The  effects  of  this  were  soon  seen.  Can  we  ad- 
mire loo  much  the  great  solidity  and  judgment  which 
thisynung  prince  discovered  in  his  conversation  with 
the  Persian  ambassadors?  his  early  wisdom,  whilst, 
in  his  youth,  he  acted  as  regent  during  his  father's  ab- 
sence, and  pacified  the  feuds  which  had  broken  out  in 
Macedonia?  his  courage  and  bravery  at  the  battle  of 
Cha-ronea,  in  which  he  so  gloriously  distinguished 
himself? 

It  is  painful  to  me  to  see  him  wanting  in  respect  to 


togcnerantcmque  jam  in  Persarum  more*  ai'duxiuct.     Liv. 
ix.  n.  18.  >  Pint,  in  Alex.  p.  687. 


his  father  at  a  public  banquet,  and  even  employing 
severe,  insulting  expressions  on  that  Deration.  It  is 
true,  indeed,  that  the  affront  which  Philip  put  upon 
Olympias  his  mother,  in  divorcing  her,  transported 
him  in  a  manner  out  of  himself;  but  still  no  pretence, 
no  injustice  or  violence,  can  either  justify  or  excuse 
such  usage  to  a  father  and  a  king. 

He  afterwards  discovered  more  moderation,"  when 
on  occasion  of  the  insolent  and  seditious  discourses 
held  by  his  soldiers  in  an  insurrection,  he  said,  "That 
nothing  was  more  royal,  than  for  a  man  to  hear  with 
calmness  himself  ill  spoken  of,  at  the  time  he  is  doing 
good."  It  has  been  observed,3  that  the  great  prince 
of  Conde  did  not  think  any  thing  more  worthy  of  ad- 
miration in  this  conqueror,  than  the  noble  haughtiness 
with  which  he  spoke  to  the  rebellious  soldiers,  who 
refused  to  follow  him:  "  Go,"  says  he,  "  ungrateful, 
base  wretches,  and  proclaim  in  your  country,  that  you 
have  abandoned  your  king  among  nations  who  will 
obey  him  better  than  you.  Alexander,"  says  that 
prince,  "abandoned  by  his  own  troops  among  barba- 
rians, who  were  not  yet  completely  conquered,  be- 
lieves himself  so  worthy  of  commanding  over  others, 
that  he  did  not  think  men  could  refuse  to  obey  him. 
Whether  he  were  in  Europe  or  in  Asia,  among  Greeks 
or  Persians,  it  was  the  same  to  him.  He  fancied,  that 
wherever  he  found  men,  he  found  subjects. "  Alex- 
ander's patience  and  moderation,  which  I  took  notice 
of  at  first,  are  no  less  worthy  of  admiration. 

The  first  years  of  his  reign  are  perhaps  the  most 
glorious  of  his  life.  That  at  twenty  years  of  age  he 
should  be  able  to  appease  the  intestine  feuds  which 
raged  in  the  kingdom;  that  he  either  crushed  or  sub- 
jected foreign  enemies,  and  those  of  the  most  formida- 
ble kind;  that  he  disarmed  Greece,  most  of  the  na- 
tions whereof  had  united  against  him;  and  that  in 
less  than  two  years,  he  should  have  enabled  himself 
to  execute  securely  those  plans  his  father  had  so  wisely 
projected;  all  this  supposes  a  presence  of  mind,  a 
strength  of  soul,  a  courage,  an  intrepidity,  and,  what 
is  more  than  all,  a  consummate  prudence;  qualities 
which  form  the  character  of  the  true  hero. 

This  character  he  supported  in  a  wonderful  manner, 
during  the  whole  course  of  his  expedition  against  Da- 
rius till  the  time  mentioned  by  us.  Plutarch  4  very  just- 
ly admires  the  bare  plan  of  it,  as  the  most  heroic  act 
that  ever  was.  He  formed  it  the  very  instant  he  as- 
cended the  throne,  looking  upon  this  design,  in  some 
measure,  as  a  part  of  what  he  inherited  from  his  father. 
When  scarce  twenty  years  old,  surrounded  with  dan- 
gers both  within  and  without  (he  kingdom,  finding  his 
treasury  drained  and  encumbered  with  debts  to  the 
amount  of  200  talents,5  which  his  father  had  contract- 
ed; with  an  army  greatly  inferior  in  number  to  that 
of  the  Persians;  in  this  condition,  Alexander  already 
turns  his  eyes  towards  Babylon  and  Susa,  and  pro- 
poses no  less  a  conquest  than  that  of  so  vast  an  em- 
pire. 

Was  this  the  effect  of  the  pride  and  rashness  of 
youth?  asks  Plutarch.  Certainly  not;  replies  that 
author.  No  man  ever  formed  a  warlike  enterprise 
with  go  great  preparations,  and  such  mighty  succours, 
by  which  I  understand  (continues  Plutarch)  magna- 
nimity, prudence,  temperance,  and  courage;  prepa- 
rations and  aids,  with  which  he  was  supplied  by  phi- 
losophy, which  he  had  thoroughly  studied  ;  to  that  w* 
may  affirm,  that  he  was  as  much  indebted  for  his  con 
quests  to  the  lessons  of  Aristotle  his  master,  as  to 
the  instructions  of  Philip  his  father. 

We  may  add,  that  according  to  all  the  maxims  of 
war,  Alexander's  enterprise  must  naturally  be  suc- 
cessful. Such  an  army  as  his,  though  not  a  very 
great  one,  consisting  of  Macedonians  and  Greeks, 
that  is,  of  the  best  troops  at  that  time  in  the  world, 
trained  up  to  war  during  a  lone  course  of  years, 
inured  to  toils  and  dangers,  formed  by  a  happy  expe- 
rience to  all  the  exercises  of  sieges  and  battles,  ani- 
mated by  the  remembrance  of  their  pnst  victories, 
by  the  hopes  of  an  immense  booty,  end  still  more  by 

•  Plut.  in  Alex.  p.  68?.  *  St.  Errcnoad. 

•  Plut.  de  Fortuo.  Alex.  Oral.  l.p.  327. 
<  Abo«t  30,0001. 


600 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


their  hereditary  and  irreconcilable  hatred  to  the 
Persians;  such  troops,  I  say,  headed  by  Alexander, 
were  almost  sure  of  conquering  an  army,  composed 
indeed  of  an  infinite  number  of  men,  but  of  tew  sol- 
diers. 

The  swiftness  of  the  execution  was  answerable  to 
the  wisdom  of  the  project.  Alter  having  gained  the 
affections  of  all  his  generals  and  officers,  by  an  un- 
paralleled liberality;  and  of  all  his  soldiers  by  an  air 
of  goodness,  affability,  and  even  familiarity,  which, 
so  tar  from  debasing  the  majesty  of  a  prince,  adds  to 
the  respect  which  is  paid  him,  such  H  teal  and  tender- 
ness, as  is  proof  against  all  things:  alter  this,  I  say, 
the  next  thing  to  be  done,  was  to  astonish  his  enemies 
hy  bold  enterprises,  to  terrify  them  by  examples  of  se- 
verity; and,  lastly,  to  win  them  by  acts  of  humanity 
and  clemency.  He  succeeded  wonderfully  in  these. 

The  passage  of  the  Granicns,  followed  by  a  famous 
victory;  the  two  celebrated  sieges  of  Miletus  and  Ha- 
licarnassus  showed  to  Asia  a  young  conqueror,  to 
whom  no  part  of  military  knowledge  was  unknown. 
The  razing  of  the  latter  city  to  the  very  foundations, 
spread  a  universal  terror;  butthe  allowing  the  enjoy- 
ment of  their  liberties  and  ancient  laws  to  all  those 
who  submitted  cheerfully,  made  the  world  believe 
that  the  conqueror  had  no  other  view  than  to  make 
nations  happy,  and  to  procure  them  an  easy  and  last- 
ting  peace. 

His  impatience  to  bathe  himself,  when  covered  with 
sweat,  in  the  river  Cvdnus,  might  be  looked  upon  as 
a  giddy,  juvenile  action,  unworthy  of  his  dignity;  but 
we  must  not  judge  of  it  from  the  manners  of  the  pre- 
•ent  age.  The  ancients,  all  whose  exercises  had  a 
reference  to  those  of  war,  accustomed  themselves 
early  to  bathing  and  swimming.  It  is  well  known, 
that  in  Rome,  the  sons  of  the  nobility,  alter  having 
heated  themselves  in  the  military  exercises  of  the 
Campus  Martius,  in  running,  wrestling,  and  hurling 
the  javelin,  used  to  plunge  into  the  Tiber,  which  rum 
by  that  city.  By  these  means  they  enabled  themselves 
to  pass  rivers  and  lakes  in  an  enemy's  country;  for 
those  are  never  crossed,  but  after  painful  marches, 
and  after  having  long  been  exposed  to  the  sun-beams, 
which,  with  the  weight  of  the  soldier's  arms,  must  ne- 
cessarily make  them  sweat.  Hence  we  may  apolo- 
gize for  Alexander's  bathing  himself,  which  had  like 
to  have  been  fatal  to  him;  especially  as  he  misrht  not 
know  that  the  waters  of  this  river  were  so  excessive- 
ly cold. 

The  two  battles  of  IMU?  and  Arbela,  with  the  siege 
of  Tyre,  one  of  the  most  famous  of  antiquity,  com- 
pleted the  proof  that  Alexander  possessed  all  the 
qualities  which  form  the  great  soldier,-  as  skill  in 
making  choice  of  a  field  of  battle;  such  a  presence 
of  mind  in  the  beat  of  action,  as  is  necessary  fnr  the 
giving  out  proper  orders;  a  courage  and  braver)-, 
which  the  most  evident  dangers  seived  only  to  ani- 
mate; an  impetuous  activity,  tempered  and  guided 
by  such  a  prudent  restraint,  as  will  not  suffer  the  hero 
to  be  carried  away  by  an  indiscreet  ardour;  lastly, 
*uch  a  resolution  and  constancy,  as  is  neither  discon- 
certed by  unforeseen  obstacles,  nor  discouraged  by 
difficulties,  though  seemingly  insurmountable,  and 
which  knows  no  other  limits  or  end  but  victory. 

Historians  have  observed  a  great  difference  between 
Alexander  and  his  father,1  in  their  manner  of  making 
war.  Stratagem,  and  even  knaverv,  were  the  prevail- 
ing arU  of  Philip,  who  always  acted  secretly,  and  in 
the  dark;  but  his  ton  pursued  his  schemes  with  more 
candour  and  without  disguise.  The  one  endeavoured 
to  deceive  his  enemies  by  cunning,  the  other  to  subdue 
them  by  force.  The  former  discovered  more  art,  the 
latter  more  magnanimity.  Philip  did  not  look  upon 
nny  methods,*  which  conduce  to  conquest,  as  igno- 
minious; but  Alexander  could  never  prevail  upon 
himself  to  employ  treachery.  He  indeed,  endeavoured 
to  draw  over  the'  ablest  of  all  Darius'*  generals;  but 
then  he  employed  honourable  means.  When  be 

•  Vincendi  ratio  unique  diverM.  Hicaprrte,  ille  artibus 
bclla  tractabat.  Deceptis  ille  gaudere  hoMibus,  hie  pnl«m 
fu»is.  Prudentior  ille  ronsilio,  hie  animo  nmgnificentior 
— Nulli  apud  Philippum  torpis  ratio  vincendi.  Justin,  lib. 
h.  e*p.  8.  «  Pautaii.  1.  vii.  p.  415. 


marched  near  Memnon's  lands,  he  commanded  tii« 
soldiers,  under  the  severest  penalties*  not  to  make  the 
least  havoc  in  them.  His  design,  by  this  conduct,  was 
either  to  gain  him  over  to  his  side,  or  to  make  the 
Persians  suspect  his  fidelity.  Memnon  also  prided 
himself  in  behaving  with  generosity  tounrds  Alex 
ander;8  and  hearing  «  soldier  speak  ill  of  that  prince, 
"  I  did  not  take  thee  into  my  pay,"  says  that  general, 
striking  him  with  his  javelin,  "  to  speak  injuriously 
of  that  prince,  but  to  tight  against  him." 

The  circumstance,  which  raises  Alexander  abov« 
most  conquerors,  and,  as  it  were,  above  himself,  i«  the 
use  he  made  of  victory  after  the  battle  of  Issus.  Th'n 
is  the  most  beautiful  incident  of  his  life;  is  the  point 
of  view  in  which  it  is  his  interest  to  be  considered,  and 
in  which  it  is  impossible  for  him  not  to  appear  truly 
great.  By  the  victory  of  Issus,  he  had  possessed  him- 
self, not  indeed  of  Darius's  person,  but  of  his  empire. 
Not  only  Sysigambis,  that  king's  mother,  was  his 
'captive,  but  also  his  wife  and  daughters,  princesses, 
whose  beauty  was  not  to  be  paralleled  in  all  Asia. 
Alexander  was  in  the  bloom  of  life,4  a  conqueror,  free, 
and  not  yet  in  the  bands  of  marriage,  as  an  author 
observes  of  the  first  Scipio  Africanus,  on  a  like  occa- 
sion: nevertheless  his  camp  was  to  those  princesses  a 
sacred  asylum,  or  rather  a  temple,  in  which  their 
chastity  was  secured,  as  under  the  guard  of  virtue 
itself,  and  so  highly  revered,  that  Darius,  in  his  ex- 
piring moments,  hearing  the  kind  treatment  inev  had 
met  with,  could  not  forbear  lifting  up  his  dying  fisnJs 
towards  heaven,  and  wishing  success  to  so  wise  aid 
generous  a  conqueror,  who  governed  his  passions  to 
absolutely. 

In  the  enumeration  of  Alexander's  good  qualit;«!s,  I 
must  not  omit  one  rarely  found  among  the  great,  i-nd 
which  nevertheless  does  honour  to  human  nature,  *,id 
makes  life  happy;  this  is,  his  being  informed  by  a  «oul 
capable  of  a  friendship,  tender,  unreserved,  active, 
constant,  void  of  pride  and  arrogance,  in  so  exalted  a 
fortune,  which  generally  considers  itselfonly,  makesits 
grandeur  consist  in  humbling  all  around  it,  and  is  bet- 
ter pleased  with  servile  wretches,  than  with  frank,  sin- 
cere friends. 

Alexander  endeared  himself  to  his  officers  and  sol- 
diers; treated  them  with  the  greatest  familiarity;  ad 
milted  them  to  his  table,  his  exercises,  and  conversa- 
tions; was  truly  concerned  for  them  when  involved  iu 
any  calamity,  grieved  for  them  when  sick,  rejoiced  at 
their  recovery,  and  was  interested  in  whate\er  befell 
them.  We  have  examples  of  this  in  Hephaestion,  in 
Ptolemy,  in  Craterus,  and  many  others.  A  prince  of 
real  merit  loses  none  of  his  dignity  by  such  a  familiar- 
ity and  condescension;  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  more 
beloved  and  respected  upon  that  very  account.  Every 
man  of  a  tall  stature,  does  not  scruple  to  put  himself 
upon  a  level  with  the  rest  of  mankind,  well  knowing 
that  he  shall  overtop  them  all.  It  is  the  interest  of 
truly  diminutive  persons  alone  not  to  vie  in  stature 
with  the  tall,  nor  to  appear  in  a  crowd. 

Alexander  was  dear  to  others,  because  they  were 
sensible  he  was  beforehand  with  them  in  affection. 
This  circumstance  made  the  soldiers  strongly  desirouf 
to  please  him, and  fired  them  with  intrepidity;  henct 
they  were  always  ready  to  execute  all  his  orders, 
though  attended  with  the  greatest  difficulties,  and  dan- 
gers; this  made  them  submit  patiently  to  the  severed 
hardships,  and  threw  them  into  the  deepest  affliction, 
whenever  they  happened  to  give  him  any  room  foi 
discontent. 

In  the  picture  which  has  hitherto  been  given  of 
Alexander,  whnt  was  wanting  to  complete  his  gloryl 
Military  virtue  has  been  exhibited  in  its  utmost  splen- 
.dour;  goodnes*,  clemency,  moderation,  and  wisdom, 
have  crowned  it,  and  added  such  a  lustre,  a?  greatly 
enhances  its  value.  Let  us  suppose,  that  Alexander, 
at  this  juncture,  to  secure  his  glory  and  his  victories, 
sto|»  snort  in  his  career;  that  he  himself  checks  hii 
ambition,  and  raises  Darius  to  the  throne  with  the 
same  hand  that  had  dispossessed  him  of  it;  makei 
Asia  Minor,  inhabited  chiefly  by  Greeks,  free  and  in- 
dependent of  Persia:  that  he  declares  himself  pro- 


i  Plut.  in  Apoph.  p.  174. 

*  Et  ju vcnie,  et  Calebs,  et  victor,    fa/.  M*z.  1.  iv 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER 


601 


tector  of  all  the  cftic*  and  slates  of  Greece,  in  no 
Other  view  than  tc  >ecure  them  their  liberties,  and  the 
enjoyment  oi'tln-ir  respective  laws  and  customs;  that 
he  atterwnrds  rtturnsto  Macedonia, and  there,  conten- 
ted with  the  lawful  bounds  of  his  empire,  makes  all  his 
glory  and  delight  consist  in  rendering;  his  people  hap- 
py, in  procuring  lor  them  abundance  of  all  thing?,  in 
«eeing  the  laws  put  in  execution,  and  making  justice 
flourUli;  in  causing  virtue  to  be  had  in  honour,  and 
endearing  himself  to  his  subjects:  in  fine,  that  now 
become,  by  the  terror  of  his  arms,  and  much  more  so 
bj  the  fame  of  his  virtues,  the  admiration  of  the  whole 
world,  he  sees  himself,  in  some  measure,  the  arbiter 
of  all  nations;  and  exercises,  over  the  minds  of  men, 
tuoh  an  empire,  as  is  infinitely  more  lasting  and  ho- 
nourable than  that  which  is  founded  on  fear  only; 
supposing  all  this  to  hare  happened,  would  ever  any 
prince  have  been  as  great,  at  glorious,  as  revered,  as 
Alexander? 

To  adopt  *nch  a  resolution,  a  greatness  of  soul,  and 
a  most  refined  taste  for  true  glory,  are  required,  such 
as  w  seldom  met  with  in  history.  Men  generally  do 
net  consider  that  the  glory  which  attends  the  most 
•hiring  conquests.1  is  greatly  inferior  to  the  reputation 
of  a  prince,  who  has  despised  and  trampled  upon  am- 
bition, and  knows  how  to  give  bounds  to  universal 
power.  But  Alexander  was  far  from  possessing  these 
nappy  qualities.  His  uninterrupted  felicity,  that  never 
experienced  adverse  fortune,  intoxicated  and  changed 
him  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  no  longer  appeared  the 
same  man;  and  I  do  not  remember,  that  ever  the 
poison  of  prosperity  had  a  more  sudden  or  more  forci- 
ble effect  than  upon  him. 

Second    Part. 

From  the  siej^e  of  Tyre,  which  WM  toon  after  the 
battle  of  Issus,  in  which  Alexander  displayed  all  the 
courage  and  abilities  of  a  great  warrior,  we  »ee  the 
virtues  and  noble  qualities  of  this  prince,  degenerate 
on  a  sudden,  and  make  way  for  the  grossest  vices  and 
most  brutal  passions.  If  we  sometimes,  through  the 
excesses  to  which  he  abandons  himself,  perceive  some 
bright  rays  of  humanity,  gentleness,  and  moderation, 
these  are  the  effects  of  a  happy  natural  disposition, 
which,  though  not  quite  extinguished  by  vice,  i»  how- 
ever governed  by  it. 

Was  ever  enterprise  more  wild  and  extravagant 
than  that  of  crossing  the  sandy  deserts  of  Libya;  of 
exposing  his  army  to  the  danger  of  perishing  with 
thirst  and  fatigue":  of  interrupting  the'course  of  his 
victories,  and  giving  his  enemy  time  to  raise  a  new 
army,  merely  for  the  sake  of  marching  so  far,  in  order 
to  get  himself  named  the  son  of  Jupiter  Ammon;  and 
purchase  at  so  dear  a  rate,  a  title  which  could  only 
render  him  contemptible? 

How  mean  it  was  in  Alexander.1  to  omit  always  in 
his  letters,  after  Darius'*  defeat,  the  Greek  word, 
?:hich  signifies  health,*  except  in  those  he  wrote  to 
Phocion  and  Antipater!  As  if  this  title,  because 
employed  by  other  men,  could  have  degraded  a  king, 
who  is  obliged  by  his  office  to  procure,  at  least  to  wish, 
all  his  subjects  the  enjoyment  of  the  felicity  implied  by 
that  word. 

Of  all  vires,  none  is  so  grovelling,  none  so  un- 
wcrthy,  not  only  of  a  prince,  but  of  a  man  of  honour,  as 
drunkenness;  its  bare  name  is  intolerable,  and  strikes 
us  with  horror.  How  infamous  a  pleasure  is  it  to 
apend  whole  days  and  nights  in  carousing,  to  continue 
these  excesses  "for  weeks  together;  to  pride  one's 
•elf  in  exceeding  other  men  in  intemperance,  and  to 
endanger  one's  life  in  no  other  view  than  to  gain^uch 
a  victory!  Not  to  mention  the  infamous  enormities 
that  attend  these  debauches,  how  shocking  it  is  to 
boar  the  frantic  discourses  of  a  son.  who,  intoxicated 
with  the  fumes  of  wine,  industriously  strives  to  defame 
his  father,  to  suliy  his  Priory,  and,  lost  to  all  shame, 
scruples  not  to  prefer  himself  to  him?  Drunkenness 

>  Scii  obi  vcra  principle,  ubi  cempiterna  nit  gloria— Ar- 
tun,  el  itatuan.  arai  etiam  templaque  demolilur  et  obscurat 
oblivio  ;  contra,  coniemptnr  ambition!*,  et  infinite  polemic 
domiior  RC  ft  trim  tor  animus  ipea  vetuttate  flureir.it.  Pii*. 
I*  />«».  TVa/on. 

•  Plut.  in  Prioo  p  749.  •  X« /<n». 

Vui-  1—76 


Is  only  the  occasion,  not  the  cause  of  these  excesses: 
It  betrays  the  sentiments  of  the  heart,  but  does  not 
place  them  there.  Alexander,  puffed  up  by  his  victo- 
ries, greedy  and  insatiable  of  praise,  intoxicated  with 
the  mighty  idea  he  entertained  of  his  own  merit,  jea- 
loos  of,  or  despising  all  mankind,  is  able  in  his  sobel 
moments  to  conceal  his  sentiments;  but  no  sooner 
is  he  intoxicated,  than  he  shows  himself  to  be  what  he 
really  is. 

What  shall  we  say  of  his  barbarously  murdering  an 
old  friend;  who,  though  indiscreet  and  rash,  was  yet 
his  friend?  Of  the  death  of  the  most  honest  man  in 
all  his  court,  whose  only  crime  was  his  refusing  to  pay 
him  divine  homage?  Of  the  execution  of  two  of  his 
principal  officers,  who  were  condemned,  though  no- 
thing could  be  proved  against  them,  and  on  the  slight- 
est suspicions? 

I  pass  over  a  great  many  other  vices,  which  Alexan- 
der, according  to  most  historians,  gave  into,  and 
which  are  not  to  be  justified:  to  speak  of  him,  there- 
fore, only  as  a  warrior  and  a  conqueror;  qualities 
with  respect  to  which  he  is  generally  considered,  and 
which  have  gained  him  the  esteem  of  all  nges  and 
nations;  all  we  now  have  to  do,  is,  to  examine  whe- 
ther this  esteem  be  so  well  grounded  as  is  generally 
supposed. 

1  have  already  observed,  that,  to  the  battle  of  Issus 
and  the  siege  of  Tyre  inclusively,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
but  that  Alexander  was  a  great  warrior  and  an  illus- 
trious central.  But  yet  I  doubt  very  much,  whether, 
during  these  first  years  of  his  exploits,  he  ought  to  b» 
set  above  his  father  Philip;  whose  actions,  though  not 
so  danling,  are  however  as  much  applauded  bv  good 
judges,  and  those  of  the  military  profession.  Philip, 
at  his  accession  to  the  throne,  found  all  things  unset- 
tled. He  himself  was  obliged  to  lay  the  foundation 
of  his  own  fortune,  and  was  not  supported  by  the  least 
foreign  assistance.  He  alone  raised  himself  to  the 
power  and  grandeur  to  which  he  afterwards  attained. 
He  was  obliged  to  train  up,  not  only  his  soldiers,  but 
his  officers;  to  instruct  them  in  all  the  military  exer- 
cises; to  inure  them  to  the  fatigues  of  war;  and  to 
his  care  and  abilities  alone,  Macedonia  owed  the  rise 
of  the  celebrated  phalanx,  that  is,  of  the  best  troops 
the  workl  had  then  ever  seen,  and  to  which  Alexander 
owed  all  his  conquests.  How  many  obstacles  stood 
in  Philip's  way,  before  he  could  possess  himself  of  the 
power  which  Athens,  Sparta,  and  Thebes,  had  suc- 
cessively exercised  over  Greece!  The  Greeks,  who 
were  the  bravest  people  in  the  universe,  would  not 
acknowledge  him  for  their  chief,  till  he  acquired 
that  title  by  wading  through  seas  of  blood,  and  by 
gaining  numberless  conquests  over  them.  Thus  we 
see,  that  the  way  was  prepared  for  Alexander's  exe- 
cuting his  great  design;  the  plan  whereof,  and  most 
excellent  instructions  relative  to  it,  had  been  laid 
down  to  him  by  his  father.  Now,  will  it  not  appear 
a  much  easier  task,  to  subdue  Asia  with  Greciau  ar- 
mies, than  to  subject  the  Greeks,  who  had  so  often 
triumphed  ovei  Asia? 

But  without  carrying  farther  the  parallel  of  Alex- 
ander with  Philip,  which  all,  who  do  not  consider  he- 
roes according  to  the  number  of  provinces  they  have 
conquered,  but  by  the  intrinsic  value  of  their  actions, 
must  give  in  favour  of  the  latter:  what  judgment  are 
we  to  form  of  Alexander,  after  his  triumph  over  Da- 
rius; and  is  it  possible  to  propose  him,  during  the 
latter  part  of  his  life,  as  a  model  worthy  the  imitation 
of  those  who  aspire  to  the  character  ol  great  soldiers 
and  illustrious  conquerors? 

In  this  inquiry,  I  shall  begin  with  that  which  is 
unanimously  agreed,  by  all  the  writers  on  this  subject, 
to  be  the  foundation  of  the  solid  glory  of  a  hero;  I 
mean  the  justness  of  the  war  in  which  he  engages,  with- 
out which  he  is  not  a  conqueror  and  a  hero,  but  an 
usurper  and  a  robber.  Alexander,  in  making  Asia 
the  seat  of  war,  and  turning  his  arms  against  Darin* 
had  a  plausible  pretence  for  it;  because  the  Persians 
had  been  in  all  ages,  and  were  at  that  time,  professed 
enemies  to  the  Greeks,  over  whom  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed generalissimo,  and  whose  injuries  he  therefor* 
might  think  himself  justly  entitled  to  revenge.  Bat 
then,  what  right  had  Alexander  over  the  great  nuns 
3  A 


f>02 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


B«r  of  nations,  who  did  not  know  eren  the  name  of 
Greece,  and  had  never  done  him  the  least  injury! 
The  Scythian  ambassador  spoke  very  judiciously, 
when  he  addressed  him  in  these  words:  "  What  have 
we  to  do  with  thee?  We  never  once  set  our  feet  in 
thy  ct  untry.  Are  not  those  who  live  in  woods  allowed 
to  be  ignorant  of  thee,  and  the  place  from  whence 
thon  comest?  Thou  boastost.  that  the  only  design  of 
thy  marching  is  to  extirpate  robbers;  thou  thyself  art 
the  greatest  robber  in  the  world."  This  is  Alexan- 
der's exact  character,  in  which  there  is  nothing  to  be 
rejected. 

A  pirate  spoke  to  him  to  the  same  effect,  and  in 
ctronger  terms.  Alexander  asked  '  him  what  right  be 
had  to  infest  the  neas?  "The  rome  that  thou  hast," 
replied  the  robber  with  a  generous  liberty,  "  to  infest 
the  universe;  but  because  I  do  this  in  a  small  ship, 
I  am  called  a  robber;  and  because  thou  actest  the 
game  part  with  a  great  fleet,  thou  art  entitled  a  con- 
queror." This  was  a  witty  and  just  answer,  »ays  St.  Aus- 
tin,2 who  has  preserved  this  small  fragment  of  Cicero. 

If  therefore  it  ought  to  be  laid  down  as  a  maxim, 
and  no  reasonable  man  can  doubt  of  its  being  so,  that 
every  war,  undertaken  merely  from  views  of  ambition, 
is  unjust;  and  that  the  prince  who  begins  it  is  guilty 
of  all  the  sad  consequences,  and  ail  the  blood  shed  on 
that  occasion:  what  idea  ought  we  to  form  of  Alexan- 
der's last  conquests?  Wag  ever  ambition  more  ex- 
travagant, or  rather  more  furious,  than  that  of  this 
prince?  Coming  from  a  little  spot  of  ground;  *  and 
forgetting  the  narrow  limits  of  his  paternal  domains, 
after  he  has  far  extended  his  conquests;  has  subdued, 
not  only  the  Persians,  but  also  the  Bactrians  and  In- 
dians; has  added  kingdom  to  kingdom:  after  all  this, 
1  say,  he  still  finds  himself  pent  up;  and  determined 
to  force,  if  possible,  the  barriers  of  nature,  he  endea- 
vours to  discover  a  new  world,  and  does  not  scruple  to 
sacrifice  millions  of  men  to  his  ambition  or  curiosity. 
It  is  related  that  Alexander,4  upon  Anaxarrhus  the 
philosopher's  telling  him  that  there  were  an -infinite 
number  of  worlds,  wept  to  think  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  him  to  conquer  them  all,  since  he  had  not 
yet  conquered  one.  Is  it  wrong  in  Seneca*  to  com- 
pare these  pretended  heroes,  who  have  gained  renown 
no  otherwise  than  by  the  ruin  of  nations,  to  a  confla- 
gration and  a  flood,  which  lay  waste  and  destroy  all 
things;  or  to  wild  beasts,  who  live  merely  by  blood 
and  slaughter? 

Alexander,6  passionately  fond  of  glory,  of  which  he 


>  Elegantcr  et  veraciler  Alexandra  ill!  Magno  eomprehen- 
•«8  pirata  respundit.     Nam  cum  idi-m  rex  hominem  interro- 
pa'sset.  quid  ei  vidcretur  ut  mare  haberet  inlemum  ;  ille,  li- 
bera  conlumacii:  Qu<xl  libi,    inquit   ut   orbem    terrarum. 
Bed  quia  id  ego  exiguo  navigio  fario,  latro  vucor ;  quia  tu 
magna  classe,  impcrator.     Refert  AVmitu  Mare,   ex  Cictr. 
Zderep.  »  St.  Aust.  de  Civ.  Dei,  I.  iv.  c.  iv. 

>  Agebat  infelirem  Alfxundrum  furor  aliens  devastandi, 
et  ad  ijrnota  mittebat — Jam  in  unnm  regnum  multa  regiia 
eonjecit ;   (or  congexsit)  jam   Gra?ci    Persttque   eundem  ti- 
ment:  jam  eliam  a  Dario  libers  naiiones  jugum  accipiunt. 
Hie  lamen,  ultra  Ocennum  Solemque,  indignatur  ab  HI-ITU- 
lii  Liberique  vestigiis  vic'.uriam  ntctere,  i|  si  naturae  vim 
parat— et,  ut  iia  diram,  mundi  rlaustra.  perrumpit.     Tanla 
e»t  rccitas  montium,  et  tanta  iniiiorum  Buorumohlivio    Ille 
modd  ignobilis  ani'uli  non  sine  conlrovcrsia  Dominus.  detec- 
to  fine  terrarum.  per    suum   ruditurus   orbem,  tristis  est. 
fence.  Epist.<H  &  Jltl. 

•  Alexandro  pertuH  innatiabile  laudif,  qui  Anaxarcho— in- 
numerabilrg  mundu*  es*e  rcferenti;  Heu  me,  inquit,  misc- 
rum,  <]u6d  nu  unoquidemadhuc  potitus  sum  !     Anguxta  ho- 
mini  posse£.--i<>  gloria:   fuit,  qu»  Deorum  omnium   doniicilio 
luflVcit.-    Val.  Mai.  lib.  viii.  rap.  14. 

•  Exitio  gentium  rlari,  non  minores  fuere  peste*  morta- 
lium,    quern    inundalin — quim   conflagralio.      Sencc.    Jk'at. 
Uufst.  lib.  iii.  in  Prafat. 

•  Homo  tlurio;  deditui,  cnju«  nee   naturam  nee  modum 
novcrat,  Hcrrulis  ve«tigia  scqueni,  nr  ne  ibi  quidem   rrns- 
ien«.  ubi  il'a  defecerant.     Quid  illi  (Herruli)  simile  habebat, 
>rsanu-<    adolescons,   cui    pro  virtute  erat  felix  Icmerilu? 
HIT.-U.CS  niiiil  Mlii  vicit :  orbem  terrarum  iransivit,  noii  con- 
rupi*cendi>,  st-d  vindicando.     Quid  vinceret  malurum  liostis, 
bonorum   vindex,   terrarum  marisque   [wrntor  ?     At  hie  a 
m'-rina  latro,  genliiimque  vaitalor,  tarn  hostium  perniciei 
quam  amicoru-n,  qui  fummum  bonum  durerel   trrrori   e>w 
r.unrtii  mortalibut  ;  oblitui,  non   ferociesima  tanium  «cd  ig- 
nnri..ima  qnoeae  animalia  timeri  ob  virus  malum.      Sence. 
i*  Bntf.  L  I  e.  13 


neither  knew  the  nature  nor  just  bound?,  prided  him- 
self upon  treading  in  the  steps  of  Hermits,  and  even 
in  carrying  his  victorious  arms  farther  than  he.  What 
resemblance  was  there,  says  the  same  Seneca,  between 
that  wise  conqueror  and  this  frantic  youth,  who  mis- 
took his  successful  rashness  for  merit  and  virtue! 
Hercules,  in  his  expeditions,  made  no  conquests  foi 
himself.  He  overran  the  universe  as  the  subduer  of 
monsters,  the  enemy  of  the  wicked,  the  avenger  of 
the  good,  and  the  restorer  of  peace  by  land  tml  sea. 
Alexander,  on  the  contrary,  an  unjust  robber  from  hit 
youth,  a  cruel  ravager  of  provinces,  an  infamous 
murderer  of  his  friends,  makes  his  happiness  and  glo- 
ry consist  in  making  himself  formidable  toall  mortals", 
forgetting  that  not  only  the  fiercest  animals,  but  even 
the  vilest,  make  themselves  feared  by  their  venom. 

But  leaving  this  first  consideration,  which  repre- 
sents conquerors  to  us  as  so  many  scourges  sent  by 
the  wrath  of  heaven  into  the  world  to  punish  the  sins 
of  it,  let  us  proceed  to  examine  the  latter  conquests 
of  Alexander  abstractedly  in  themselves,  in  order  to 
see  what  judgment  we  are  to  form  of  them. 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  the  actionsof  this  prince 
diffuse  a  splendour  that  dazzles  and  astonishes  the 
imagination,  which  is  ever  fond  of  the  great  and  mar- 
vellous. His  enthusiastic  courage  raises  and  trans- 
ports all  who  read  his  history,  as  it  transported  himself. 
But  ought  we  to  give  the  name  of  bravery  and  valour 
to  a  boldness  that  is  equally  blind,  rash,  and  impetu- 
ous; a  boldness  void  of  all  rule,  that  will  never  listen 
to  the  voice  of  reason,  and  has  no  other  guide  th»n  a 
senseless  ardour  for  false  glory,  and  a  \\  ilil  desire  of 
distinguishing  itself,  at  any  price?  This  character 
suits  only  a  military  robber,  who  has  no  attendants; 
whose  own  life  is  nlone  exposed;  and  who,  for  thai 
reason,  may  be  employed  in  some  desperate  action: 
but  the  case  is  far  otherwise  with  regard  to  H  king, for 
he  owes  his  life  to  all  the  army  and  his  whole  king- 
dom. If  we  except  some  very  rare  occasions,  on 
which  a  prince  is  obliged  to  venture  his  person,  and 
share  the  danger  with  his  troops  in  order  to  preserve 
them;  he  ought  to  call  to  mind,  that  there  is  a  great 
di/ference  between  a  general  and  a  private  soldier. 
True  valour  is  not  desirous  of  displaying  itself,  is  no 
ways  anxious  about  its  own  reputation,  but  is  solely 
intent  on  preserving  the  armr.  It  steers  equally  be- 
tween a  timid  prudence,  that  foresees  and  dreads  all 
difficulties,  and  a  brutal  ardour  which  industriously 
pursues  and  confronts  dangers  of  every  kind.  In  a 
word,  to  fonfl  an  accomplished  general,  prudence  v  lust 
soften  and  direct  the  too  fiery  temper  ol  valour;  at 
valour  in  return  must  animate  and  warm  thecoldu«>« 
and  slowness  of  prudence. 

Do  any  of  these  characteristics  suit  Alexander? 
When  we  peruse  his  history,  and  follow  him  to  sieges 
and  battles,  we  are  perpetually  alarmed  for  his  safety, 
and  that  of  his  army;  and  conclude  every  moment 
that  thev  are  upon  the  point  of  being  destroyed.  Here 
we  see  a  rapid  flood,  which  is  going  to  draw  in  and 
swallow  up  this  conqueror:  there  we  behold  a  craggy 
rock,  which  he  climbs,  and  perceives  round  him  sol- 
diers, either  transfixed  by  the  enemy's  darts,  or  thrown 
hendlong  by  hugestones  from  precipices.  We  tremble 
when  we  perceive  in  a  battle  the  axe  just  rtady  to 
cleave  his  head;  and  much  more  when  we  behold  him 
alone  in  a  fortress,  whither  his  rashness  had  drawn  him, 
exposed  to  all  the  javelins  of  the  enemy.  Alexander 
was  ever  persuaded,  that  miracles  would  be  wrought 
in  his  favour,  than  which  nothing  could  be  more  un- 
reasonable, as  Plutarch  observes;  for  miracles  do  not 
always  happen;  and  the  gods  at  last  are  weary  of 
guiding  and  preserving  rash  mortals,  who  abuse  the 
assistance  they  afford  them. 

Plutarch,  in  a  treatise,7  where  he  makes  the  eulo» 
gium  of  Alexander,'  and  exhibits  him  as  an  accom- 
plished hero,  gives  a  long  detail  of  the  several  woundi 
he  received  in  every  part  of  his  body;  and  pretends 
that  the  only  design  of  fortune,  in  thus  piercing  him 
with  wounds,  was  to  make  his  courage  more  conspi- 
cuous. A  renowned  warrior,  whose  eulogium  Plutarch 


'  Plot,  de  forlcn.  Alex  Oral.  II.  p.  341. 

•  This  trcaiise,  if  written  by  Plutarch,  neemi  a  ji 
performance,  and  has  very  much  the  air  of  drrlamati 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


G03 


has  drawn  in  another  part  of  bis  writings,  did  not 
judge  in  this  manner.  Some  persons  applauding  him 
for  a  wound  he  had  received  in  battle,1  the  general 
himself  declared,  that  it  was  a  fault  which  could  only 
be  excused  in  a  young  man,  and  justly  deserved  cen- 
sure. It  has  been  observed  in  Hannibal's  praise,  and 
I  myself  have  taken  notice  of  it  elsewhere,  that  he 
never  was  wounded  in  all  his  battles.2  I  cannot  say 
whether  Caesar  ever  was. 

The  last  observation,  which  relates  in  general  to 
Alexander's  expeditions  in  Asia,  must  necessarily 
lessen  very  much  the  merit  of  his  victories,  and  the 
•plendourof  his  reputation;  and  thi.-i  is  the  genius  and 
character  of  the  nations  against  whom  he  fought.  Livy, 
In  a  digression,  where  b»  inquires  what  would  have 
been  the  fate  of  Alexander's  arms,  in  case  he  had 
turned  them  towards  Italy;  and  where  he  shows  that 
Rome  would  certainly  have  checked  his  conquests,  in- 
sists strongly  on  the  reflection  in  question.  He  op- 
poses to  this  prince,  in  the  article  of  courage,  a  great 
number  of  illustrious  Romans,  who  would  have  re- 
listed him  on  all  occasions;  and  in  the  article  ol  pru- 
dence, that  august  senate,  which  Cineas,  to  give  a 
more  noble  idea  of  it  to  Pyrrhus  his  sovereign,  said, 
was  composed  of  so  many  kings.  "  Had  he  march- 
ed," says  Livy,*  "  against  the  Romans,  he  would  soon 
have  found,  that  he  was  no  longer  combating  against 
a  Darius,  who,  encumbered  with  gold  and  purple,  the 
vain  equipage  of  his  grandeur,  and  dragging  after 
him  a  miiitilude  of  women  and  eunuchs,  came  as  a 
prey  rather  than  as  an  enemy;  and  whom  Alexander 
conquered  without  shedding  much  blood,  and  with- 
out wanting  any  other  merit,  than  that  of  daring  to 
despise  what  was  really  contemptible.  He  would 
Rave  found  Italy  very  different  from  India,  through 
which  lie  marched  in  a  riotous  manner,  his  army 
quite  stiipified  with  wine;  particularly  when  he 
should  have  seen'the  forests  of  Apulia,  the  moun- 
tains of  Lucania,  and  the  still  recent  footsteps  of  the 
defeat  of  Alexander  his  uncle,  king  of  Epirus,  who 
there  lost  his  life."  The  historian  adds,  that  he 
speaks  of  Alexander,  not  yet  depraved  and  corrupt- 
ed by  prosperity,  whose  subtle  poison  worked  as 
strongly  upon  him,  as  upon  any  man  that  ever  lived; 
end  he  concludes,  that  being  thus  transformed,  he 
would  have  appeared  very  different  in  Italy,  from 
what  he  had  seemed  hitherto. 

These  reflections  of  Livy  show,  that  Alexander 
partly  owed  his  victories  to  the  weakness  of  his  ene- 
mies; and  that,  had  he  met  with  nations  as  courageous 
and  as  well  inured  to  all  the  hardships  ofwaras  the  Ro- 
mans, and  commanded  by  as  able,  experienced  gene- 
rals as  those  of  Rome,  his  victories  would  not  have 
been  either  so  rapid  or  so  uninterrupted.  Nevertheless, 
these  are  the  points  from  which  we  are  to  judge  of  the 
merits  of  a  conqueror.  Hannibal  and  Scipio  are  consi- 
dered a»  two  of  the  greatest  generals  that  ever  lived, 
and  for  this  reason:  because  both  of  them  not  only 
understood  perfectly  the  military  science,  but  theirex- 
perience,  their  abilities,  their  resolution  and  courage, 
were  put  to  the  trial,  and  set  in  the  strongest  light. 
Now,  should  we  give  to  either  of  them  an  unequal 
antagonist,  one  whose  reputation  is  not  answerable  to 
theirs,  we  shall  no  longer  have  the  same  idea  of  them : 
and  their  victories,  though  supposed  alike,  appiar  no 
longer  with  the  same  lustre,  nor  deserve  tiie  same 
•pplaute. 

nlankind  are  but  too  apt  to  be  dazzled  by  shining 
actions  and  a  pompous  exterior,  and  blindly  abandon 
themselves  to  prejudices  of  every  kind.  It  rannot  be 
denied  that  Alexander  possessed  very  great  qualities; 
but  if  we  throw  into  the  other  scale  his  errors  and  vi- 

i  Timotlious,  Plut.  in  Pelop.  p.  278. 

•  Mrnt  inn  is  made  ofbut  onu  sinplc  wound 

*  Nan  jam   cum   Dario  rcm  egfe  dixissct,  quern  mulierum 
me  5|i;itli'iuiin   n^mi'ii   tralientem,  inter   purpuram  atque  au- 
rum.   om-nitum    t-irtuiiie   *ua>   apnaratibuit,   prirdam   vi-riiis 
qyam  hnstem,  nihil   aliud  quam  l»ene  uusus  vana  contemne- 
re,  inrrui'Mtus    ili-viril.       LongJ  alius   Italiff,  qnam    India1, 
per  quam  tcmulento  agminc  rommis>ahundui  inrpusil,  visu« 
ilh  habitus  csst-t,  culms  Apulieac  tunnies  Luranos  ccmcnti, 
ft  vestigia  recentia  domeitiee  cladis,  uhi  nvunculus  ejui 
Mper.Epiri  'ex  Alexander  absumptuicral.  Lie  I.  ix.  n.  17. 


ces,  the  presumptuous  inea  he  entertained  of  his  owe 
merit.4  the  high  contempt  he  had  for  other  men,  not 
excepting  his  own  father;  his  ardent  thirst  of  praise 
and  Mattery;  his  ridiculous  notion  of  making  himself 
believed  to  be  the  son  of  Jupiter;  of  ascribing  divini- 
ty to  himself;  of  requiring  a  free  victorious  people  to 
pay  him  a  servile  homage,  and  prostrate  themselves 
ignominiously  before  him;  his  abandoning  himself  so 
shamefully  to  wine;  his  violent  anger,  which  rises  to 
brutal  ferocity;  the  unjust  fand  barbarous  execution 
of  his  bravest  and  most  faithful  officers,  and  the 
murder  of  his  most  worthy  friends  in  the  midst  of 
feasts  and  carousals;  can  any  one,  says  Livy,  bi-litve, 
that  all  these  Imperfections  do  not  greatly  sully  the 
reputation  of  a  conqueror?  But  Alexander's  Irantic 
ambition,  which  knows  neither  laws  nor  limits;  the 
rash  intrepidity  with  which  he  braves  dangers,  with- 
out the  least  reason  or  necessity;  the  weakness  and 
ignorance  of  the  nations  (totally  unskilled  in  war) 
against  whom  he  fought;  do  not  these  enervate  the 
reasons  for  which  he  is  thought  to  have  merited  the 
surname  of  Great,  and  the  title  of  Hero?  1  leave 
the  decision  of  the  question  to  the  prudence  and  equi- 
ty of  my  reader. 

As  to  myself,  I  am  surprised  to  find  that  all  orators 
who  applaud  a  prince,  never  fail  to  compare  him  to 
Alexander.  They  fancy  that  when  he  is  unce  equal 
led  to  this  king.it  is  impossible  for  panegyric  >o  soai 
higher:  they  cannot  imagine  to  themselves  anything 
more  august;  and  think  they  have  omitted  the  stroke 
which  finishes  the  glory  ot  a  hero,  should  they  not 
exalt  him  by  this  comparison.  In  my  opinion  this  de- 
notes a  false  taste,  a  wrong  turn  of  thinking;  and  if  I 
might  be  allowed  to  say  it,  a  want  of  judgment,  which 
must  naturally  shock  a  reasonable  mind.  For,  as  Alex- 
ander was  invested  with  supreme  power,  he  ought  to 
have  fulfilled  the  several  duties  of  the  sovereignty. 
We  do  not  find  that  he  possessed  the  first,  the  most 
essential  and  most  excellent  virtues  of  a  great  prince, 
which  are  to  be  the  father,  the  guardian,  and  shepherd 
of  his  people;  to  govern  them  by  good  laws;  to  make 
their  trade,  both  by  land  and  sea,  flourish:  to  encourage 
and  protect  arts  and  sciences,  to  establish  peace  and 
plenty,  and  not  suffer  his  subjects  to  be  in  any  manner 
aggrieved  or  injured;  to  maintain  an  agretable  har- 
mony between  all  orders  of  the  state,  and  make  them 
conspire,  in  due  proportion,  to  the  public  welfare;  to 
employ  himself  in  doing  justice  to  all  his  subjects,  to 
hear  their  disputes,  and  reconcile  them;  to  consider 
himself  as  the  father  of  his  people,  as  obliged  to  pro- 
vide for  all  their  necessities,  and  to  procure  them  the 
several  enjoyments  of  life.  Now  Alexander,  who 
almost  a  moment  after  he  ascended  the  throne,  left 
Macedonia,  and  never  returned  back  into  it,  did  not 
endeavour  at  any  of  these  things,  which  however  are 
the  chief  and  most  substantial  duties  of  a  great  prince. 

He  seems  possessed  of  suchqualitiesonly  as  are  of 
the  second  rank,  I  mean  those  of  war;  and  these  are 
all  extravagant,  are  carried  to  the  rashesl  and  mod 
odious  excess,  and  to  the  extremes  of  lolly  and  fury 
whilst  his  kingdom  is  left  a  prey  to  the  rapine  and 
exactions  of  Antipater;  and  all  the  conquered  pro- 
vinces abandoned  to  the  insatiable  avarice  of  the 
governors,  who  carried  their  oppressions  so  fur,  that 
Alexander  was  forced  to  put  them  to  death.  Nor  do 
his  soldiers  appear  to  be  better  regulated;  for  the**, 
having  plundered  the  wealth  of  the  East,  alter  the 
prince  had  given  them  the  highest  marks  of  his  bene- 
ficence, grew  so  licentious,  so  disorderly,  so  debauched 
and  abandoned  to  \icis  of  every  kind,  that  ho  was 
forced  to  pay  their  debts  by  a  largess  of  1,500,000/. 
What  stiange  men  were  these!  how  depraved  thei» 
school!  how  pernicious  the  fruit  of  their  victories!  Is 
it  doing  honour  to  a  prince,  is  it  adorning  his  panegy- 
ric, to  compare  him  with  such  a  model? 


*  Referre  in  tanto  rege  piset  iuperbam  mutationrm  vc»- 
tis.  et  df-fideriitas  humi  jncentium  adulationcp.  etiam  viclii 
Marrdunibus  graves,  nedum  victoribui  ;  ct  firdn  supphria 
et  inter  vinumet  epulai  eaede*amicorum,et  vanitatem  emen- 
tiemlffi  stirpis.  Quid  si  vini  amor  in  dies  fieiel  m-rii.r  ?  quid 
fi  Irux  ar.  pripfervidtt  ira?  (nee  quicqunm  ilubium  inter 
•criptnres  ri-frro)  nullanc  lis'C  riaoina  imoeratortii  virlulibtM 
riucimui  t  Lin.  I.  ix.  n.  18 


604 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


The  Romans,  indeed,  ieemed  to  have  held  Alexan- 
der's meir.ory  in  great  veneration;  but  I  very  much 
question,  whether  in  the  virtuous  ages  of  the  common- 
wealth, tit  would  have  been  considered  as  so  great  a 
nian.  Caesar  seeing  his  statue  in  a  temple  in  Spain,1 
during  his  government  of"  that  country  alter  his  praetor- 
(hip,  rould  not  forbear  groaning  and  sighing,  when  he 
compared  the  few  glorious  actions  achieved  bj  him- 
self, ivith  the  mighty  exploits  of  this  conqueror.  It 
was  said  that  Pompey,  in  otieol  his  triumphs,  appeared 
dressed  in  that  king's  surlout.  Augustus  pardoned 
the  Alexandrians,  lor  the  sake  of  their  founder.  Ca- 
ligula, in  a  ceremony  in  which  he  assumed  the  cha- 
racter of  a  mighty  conqueror,  wore  Alexander's  coat 
of  mail.  But  no  one  carried  his  veneration  for  this 
monarch  so  far  as  Caracalla.  He  used  the  same  kind 
of  arms  and  goblets  as  that  prince;  he  had  a  Mace- 
donian phalanx  in  his  army;  he  persecuted  the  Peri- 
patetics, and  would  have  burned  all  the  books  of 
Aristotle  their  founder,  because  he  was  suspected  to 
have  conspired  with  those  who  poisoned  Alexander. 

I  believe  that  I  may  justly  assert,  that,  it  an  impar- 
tial person  of  good  sense  reads  Hularch's  lives  of 
illustrious  men  with  attention,  they  will  leave  such  a 
tacit  and  strong  impression  in  his  mind,  as  will  make 
him  consider  Alexander  one  of  the  least  valuable 
among  them.  But  how  strong  would  the  contrast  be 
found,  had  we  the  lives  of  Epaminondas,  of  Hannibal 
and  Scipio,  the  loss  of  which  can  never  be  too  much 
regretted!  How  little  would  Alexander  appear,  set 
ofi  with  all  his  titles,  and  surrounded  by  all  his  con- 
quests, even  if  considered  in  a  military  light,  when 
compared  to  those  heroes,  who  where  truly  great,  and 
worthy  their  exalted  reputation! 

SECTION  XX.— REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  PERSIANS, 
GKEF.KS,  AND  MACEDONIANS,  BY  MONS.  BOSSUET, 
BISHOP  OF  MEAUX. 

THE  reader  will  not  be  displeased  with  my  inserting 
here,  part  of  the  admirable  reflections  of  the  Bishop  of 
Mea-jx,8  on  the  character  and  government  of  the  Per- 
sians, Greeks,  and  Macedonians,  with  whose  history 
we  have  been  engaged. 

The  Greek  nations,  several  of  whom  had  at  first 
lived  under  a  monarchical  form  of  government,  having 
studied  the  arts  of  civil  polity,  imagined  they  were 
a_ble  to  govern  themselves,  and  most  of  their  cities 
formed  themselves  into  commonwealths.  But  the 
wise  legislators,  who  arose  in  every  country,  as  a 
Thales,  a  Pythagoras,  a  Pittacus,  a  Lycurgus,  a  Solon, 
and  many  others  mentioned  in  history,  prevented 
liberty  from  degenerating  into  licentiousness.  Law?, 
drawn  up  with  great  simplicity,  and  few  in  number, 
•wed  the  people,  held  them  in  their  duty,  and  made 
them  all  conspire  to  the  general  good  of  the  country. 

The  idea  of  liberty  which  such  a  conduct  inspired  was 
wonderful.  For  the  liberty  which  the  Greeks  figured 
to  themselves  was  subject  to  the  law,  that  is  to  reason 
itself,  acknowledged  as  such  by  the  whole  nation. 
They  would  not  let  men  rise  to  power  among  them. 
Magistrates,  who  were  feared  during  their  office,  be- 
came alterwards  private  men,  and  had  no  authority 
but  what  their  experience  gave  them.  The  law  was 
considered  as  their  sovereign ;  it  was  she  who  appoint- 
ed magistrate?,  prescribed  the  limits  of  their  power, 
and  punished  their  mal-administration.  The  advan- 
tage of  this  government  was,  that  Jhe  citizens  bore  so 
much  the  greater  lore  to  their  country,  as  all  shared  in 
the  government  of  it;  and  MS  every  individual  was 
capable  of  attaining;  its  highest  dignities. 

The  advantage  which  accrued  to  Greece  from  phi- 
losophy, with  regard  to  the  preservation  of  its  form  of 
government,  is  incredible.  The  greater  freedom  these 
nations  enjoyed,  the  greater  necessity  there  was  to 
settle  the  laws  relating  to  manners  and  those  of 
society,  agreeablv  to  reason  and  good  sense.  From 
Pythagoras,  Thales,  Anaxagoras,  Socrates,  Archytas, 
Plato,  Xenophon,  Aristotle,  and  a  multitude  more,  the 
Greeks  received  their  noble  precepts. 

«  Dion.  I.  xxxvii.  p.  53.     App.   de  Bell.  Mithrid.  p.  253. 
Dion.  I.  li.  p.  454.     Id.  I.  lix.  p.  65:1.    Id.  1.  Ixxvii.  p.  873. 
•  D.scourte  on  t'niversal  History.     Part  iii.  chap.  4. 


But  why  should  we  mention  phi.osophers  only? 
The  writings  of  even  the  poets,  which  were  in  every 
body's  hands,  amused  them  very  much,  but  instructed 
them  still  more.  The  most  renowned  if  conquerors 
considered  Homer  as  a  master,  who  taught  him  to 
govern  wisely.  This  great  poet  instructed  people,  no 
less  happily,  in  obedience,  and  the  duties  of  a  good 
citizen. 

When  the  Greeks,  thus  educated,  saw  the  delicacy 
of  the  Asiatics:  their  dress  and  beauty,  emulating  that 
of  women,  they  held  them  in  the  utmost  contempt. 
But  their  form  of  government,  that  had  no  other  rule 
than  their  prince's  will,  which  took  place  of  all  laws 
not  excepting  the  most  sacred,  inspired  them  with 
horror;  and  the  barbwrians  were  the  most  hateful  ot 
objects  to  Greece. 

The  Greeks  had  imbibed  this  hatred  in  the  most 
early  times,8  and  it  was  become  almost  natural  to 
them.  A  circumstance  which  made  them  delight  so 
much  in  Homer's  poems,  was  his  celebrating  the  ad- 
vantages and  victories  of  Greece  over  Asia.  On  the 
side  of  Asia  was  Venus,  that  is  (o  say,  the  pleasures, 
the  idle  loves,  and  effeminacy  ;  on  that  of  Greece,  was 
Juno,  or  in  other  words,  gravity  with  conjugal  affec- 
tion, Mercury  with  eloquence,  and  Jupiter  with  wise 
policy.  Wiih  the  Asiatics  was  Mars,  an  impetuous 
and  brutal  deity,  that  is  to  say,  war  carried  on  with 
fury:  with  the  Greeks,  Pallas,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
science  of  war  and  valour,  conducted  by  reason.  The 
Grecians,  from  this  time,  had  ever  imagined, that  un- 
derstanding and  true  bravery  were  natural  as  well  aa 
peculiar  to  them.  They  could  not  bear  the  thoughts 
of  Asia's  design  to  conquer  them;  and  in  bowing  to 
this 3  oke,  they  would  have  thought  they  had  subjected 
virtue  to  pleasure,  the  mind  to  the  body,  and  true  cou- 
rage to  brutal  strength,  which  consisted  inertly  in 
numbers. 

The  Greeks  were  strongly  inspired  with  these  sen- 
timents, when  Darius,  son  of  Hystaspes,  and  Xerxes, 
invaded  them  with  armies  so  prodigiously  numerous  ai 
exceeds  all  belief.  The  Persians  found  often,  to  their 
cost,  the  great  advantage  which  discipline  has  over 
multitudes  and  confusion;  and  how  greatly  superior 
courage  (when  conducted  by  skill)  is  to  a  blind  im- 
petuosity. 

Persia,  after  having  been  so  often  conquered  by  the 
Greeks,  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  sow  divisions  among 
them ;  and  the  height  to  which  conquest  had  raised  the 
latter,  facilitated  the  design.  As  fear,*  held  them  in 
the  bands  of  union,  victory  and  security  dissolved 
them.  Having  been  al  wa\  s  used  to  fight  and  conquer, 
they  no  sooner  believed  that  they  had  no  lunger  any 
thing  to  fear  from  the  power  of  the  Persians,  thsn  they 
turned  their  arms  against  each  other. 

Among  the  several  republics  of  which  Greece  was 
composed,  Athens  and  Lartda-inon  were  undoubtedly 
the  chief.  These  two  great  commoim  frflths,  whose 
manners  and  conduct  were  directly  opposite,  perplex- 
ed and  incommoded  one  another,  in  the  common  de- 
sign they  had  of  subjecting  all  Greece;  so  that  they 
were  eternally  at  variance,  and  this  more  from  the  con- 
trariety of  interests,  than  an  opposition  of  tempers 
and  disposition. 

The  Grecian  cities  would  not  subject  themselves  to 
either:  for  besides  that  every  one  of  them  desired  to 
live  free  and  independent,  they  were  not  plensed  with 
the  government  of  either  of  those  two  commonwealths. 
We  have  shown,  in  the  course  of  this  history,  that  the 
Peloponnesian,  and  other  wars,  were  either  owing  to, 
or  supported  by,  the  reciprocal  jealousy  ofLactdaemon 
and  Athens.  But  at  the  same  time  that  this  jealousy 
disturbed.it  supported  Greece  in  some  measure;  and 
kept  it  from  being  dependent  on  either  of  those  repub- 
lics. 

The  Persians  soon  perceived  thi«  state  and  con- 
dition of  Greece ;  after  which,  the  whole  secret  of  their 
politics  was  to  keep  up  these  jealousies,  and  foment 
these  divisions.  Lacedaemon, 'being  the  most  ambi- 
tious, was  the  first  that  made  them  engage  in  the  Gre- 
cian quarrels.  The  Persians  took  part  in  them,  with 
a  view  of  subjecting  the  whole  nation ;  and  industrious 


»  Isocrates  in  Panegyr. 


«  Plat,  de  Leg.      ni. 


HISTORY  OF  ALEXANDER. 


G05 


Co  make  the  Greeks  weaken  one  another,  they  only 
waited  for  the  favourable  instant  to  crush  them  alto- 
gether. Already  the  cities  of  Greece  considered,1  in 
their  wan,  only  the  king;  of  Persia,  whom  they  called 
the  great  king,  or  the  king,  by  way  of  eminence,  as  if 
they  already  thought  themselves  his  subjects.  How- 
ever, when  Greece  was  upon  the  brink  of  slavery,  and 
ready  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  barbarians,  it  was 
impossible  for  the  genius,  the  spirit  of  the  country, 
r.ot  to  rouse  and  take  the  alarm.  Agt-silaus,  king  of 
Lacedxmonia,  made  the  Persians  tremble  in  Asia 
Minor, and  showed  that  they  might  be  humbled.  Their 
Weakness  was  still  more  evident  by  the  glorious  retreat 
of  the  10,000  Greeks,  who  had  followed  the  Younger 
Cyrus. 

It  was  then  that  all  Greece  saw  more  plainly  than 
ever,  that  it  possessed  an  invincible  body  of  soldiery, 
which  was  able  to  subdue  all  nations;  and  that  nothing 
but  its  feuds  and  divisions  could  subject  it  to  an  enemy, 
who  was  too  weak  to  resist  it  when  united. 

Philip  of  Macedon,  a  prince  whose  abilities  were 
equal  to  his  valour,  took  so  great  advantage  of  the 
divisions  which  reigned  between  the  various  cities  and 
commonwealths,  that  though  his  kingdom  was  but 
small,  vet,  as  it  was  united,  and  his  power  absolute, 
he  at  last,  partly  by  artifice  and  partly  by  strength, 
rose  to  greater  power  than  any  of  the  Grecian  states, 
and  obliged  them  all  to  march  under  his  standards 
against  the  common  enemy.  This  was  the  Htate  of 
Greece  when  Philip  lost  his  life,  and  Alexander  his 
ion  succeeded  to  his  kingdom,  and  to  the  designs  he 
had  projected. 

The  Macedonians,  at  his  accession,  were  not  only 
well  disciplined  and  inured  to  toils,  but  triumphant: 
and  become,  by  so  many  successes,  almost  as  much 
superior  to  the  other  Greeks  in  valour  and  discipline, 
as  the  rest  of  the  Greeks  were  superior  to  the  Persians, 
and  to  such  nations  as  resembled  them. 

Darius,  who  reigned  over  Persia  in  Alexander's 
time,  was  a  just,  brave,  and  generous  prince;  was  be- 
loved by  his  subjects,  and  wanted  neither  good  sense 
nor  vigour  for  the  execution  of  his  designs.  But,  if  we 
compare  the  two  monarch" ;  if  we  oppose  the  genius 
of  Darius,  to  the  penetrating  sublime  one  of  Alexan- 
der; the  valour  ol  the  former,  to  the  mighty  invincible 
courage,  which  obstacles  animated,  of  the  latter;  with 
that  boundless  desire  which  Alexander  possessed,  of 
augmenting  his  glory,  and  his  entire  belief  that  all 
things  ought  to  bend  before  him,  as  being  formed  by 
Providence  supei  iorto  the  rest  of  mortals;  a  belief  with 
which  he  inspired  not  only  his  generals,  but  the  mean- 
est of  his  soldiers,  who  thereby  rose  above  difficulties, 
and  even  above  themselves;  the  reader  will  easily 
judge  which  of  the  monarchs  was  to  be  victorious. 

If  to  these  considerations  we  add  the  advantages 
which  the  Greeks  and  Macedonians  had  over  their 
enemies,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  it  was  impossible 
for  the  Persian  empire  to  subsist  any  longer,  when  in- 
yaded  by  so  great  a  hero,  and  by  such  invincible 


i  Plat,  de  Leg.  1.  Hi.    Isocrat  in 


armies.  And  thus  we  discover,  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  the  circumstance  which  ruined  the  empire  of  lh« 
Persians,  and  raised  that  of  Alexandtr. 

To  smooth  his  way  to  victory,  the  Persians  happen- 
ed to  lose  the  only  general  who  was  able  to  make 
head  against  the  Greeks,  and  this  was  Memnon  of 
Rhodes.  So  long  as  Alexander  fought  against  this 
illustrious  warrior,  he  might  glory  in  having  vanquish- 
ed an  enemy  worthy  of  himself.  But  in  the  very  in- 
fancy of  a  diversion,  which  began  already  to  distract 
Greece,  Memnon  died,  after  which  Alexander  obliged 
all  things  to  give  way  before  him. 

This  prince  made  his  entrance  into  Babylon,  with  a 
splendour  and  magnificence  which  had  never  been 
seen  before;  and,  after  having  revenged  Greece;  after 
subduing,  with  incredible  swiftness,  all  the  nations 
subject  to  Persia;  to  secure  his  new  empire  on  every1 
side,  or  rather  to  satiate  his  ambition,  and  render  hi* 
name  more  famous  than  that  of  Bacchus,  he  marched 
into  India,  and  there  extended  nis  conquests  farther 
than  that  celebrated  conqueror  had  done.  But  the  mo- 
narch, whose  impetuous  career  neither  deserts,  rivers 
nor  mountains,  could  stop,  was  obliged  toy  it- Id  to  the 
murmurs  of  his  soldiers,  who  called  aloud  for  ease  and 
repose. 

Alexander  returned  to  Babylon,  dreaded  and  re- 
spected, not  as  a  conqueror,  but  as  a  god.  Neverthe- 
less, the  formidable  empire  he  had  acquired,  subsisted 
no  longer  than  his  life,  which  was  but  short,  At  thir- 
ty-three years  of  age,  in  the  midst  of  the  grandest  de- 
signs that  ever  man  formed,  and  flushed  with  the  surest 
hopes  of  success,  he  died  before  he  had  leisure  to  settle 
his  affairs  on  a  solid  foundation ;  leaving  behind  him  a 
brother,  who  was  an  idiot,  and  children  very  young, 
all  incapable  of  supporting  the  weight  of  such  a  power. 

But  the  circumstance  which  proved  most  fatal  to 
his  family  and  empire,  was  his  having  taught  the  ge- 
nerals who  survived  him,  to  breathe  nothing  but  am- 
bition and  war.  He  foresaw  the  prodigious  lengths 
they  would  go  after  his  death.  To  curb  their  ambi- 
tious views,  and  for  fear  of  mistaking  in  hi*  conjec- 
tures, he  did  not  dare  to  name  his  successor,  or  the 
guardian  of  his  children.  He  only  foretold  (hut  his 
friends  would  solemnize  his  obsequies  with  bloody  bat- 
tles; and  he  expired  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  full  of 
the  sad  images  of  the  confusion  which  would  follow 
his  death. 

And  indeed,  Macedonia,  the  kingdom  he  inherited, 
which  his  ancestors  had  governed  during  so  many 
ages,  was  invaded  on  all  sides,  as  a  succession  that 
was  become  vacant;  and  after  being  long  exposed  a 
prey  to  the  strongest,  was  at  last  possessed  by  another 
familv.  Thus  this  great  conque*or,  the  most  renowned 
the  world  ever  saw,  was  the  last  king  of  his  family 
Hnc!  he  lived  peaceably  in  Macedon,  the  greatness  of 
his  empire  would  not  have  proved  a  temptation  to  his 
generals;  and  he  would  have  left  to  his  children  the 
kingdom  he  inherited  from  his  ancestors.  Bnt  rising 
to  too  exalted  a  height  of  power,  he  proved  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  posterity;  and  such  was  the  glorious  fruit 
of  all  his  conquests! 


END  OF  VOL.  I 


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